#behind the cut: carmen

[thebearer]

nothing in the world belongs to me |carmen berzatto x reader|

prompt: still new in your relationship, you show up to the bear for dinner unexpectedly, surprising carmen and the others.

based off this prompt from the other day :)

contains: fluff lol. really, it's just fluff. established-ish relationship (the others don't know). carmen being a little nervous and possessive but mainly cute <3 language.

“Alright, listen up,” Richie stood next to Sydney, flicking through the piles of tickets that were ringing through by the second. It was normal now, an expected task in their routine. “We need to walk the focaccia to table seven, please.” 

“Yes, Chef!” A chorus of nearly robotic voices rose from the sizzling hiss of the lamb searing in Carmen’s pan, lifting the spatula to tip the meat over, before giving it back to the chef on the line. 

“And for table nine, we’ve got a shellfish allergy, alright? So let’s triple check the cross contamination on that. T, can you handle that one?” Richie moved from his leather bound book of notes back to the ticket. 

“Yes, Chef!” Tina chimed, pulling a freshly washed pan, filling it with the veal stock. 

“Table nine, is that- that’s the senator?” Carmen turned to Richie, tasting the roux bubbling on Victoria’s station, giving her a curt nod of approval. 

“No, that’s table eleven.” Richie hummed, looking back at his notebook. “Nine, is… a birthday. Booked online.” Carmen had already begun to drone him out, mind racing with a million other things as Richie listed the guests name. Until he got to one. 

The name Carmen was sure he was hallucinating. The name no one knew- How would they know? How could they possibly know your name? 

You and Carmen had been seeing each other for a little while. A few weeks that were slowly turning into months. A casual thing that was slowly turning more serious. Dates and meetups are becoming more frequent. You’d even invited him over to your place a few times, he’d spent the night last week. 

Still, Carmen hadn’t managed to tell anyone. Selfishly, he liked that you were all his for now. Privacy was not guaranteed in the Berzatto house, in Carmen’s life still. He knew they meant well, they always did- he knew it wasn’t purposeful, the intrusion that almost always led to a demise. Carmen wasn’t ready for it, not yet, he still wanted you all to himself. 

“Carmen?” Sydney’s voice pulled him out of his panicked trance. “Chef, are you- are you good?” Her voice lilted with that familiar suspicious quip, the one always accompanied with her lifted brows. 

“What?” Carmen blinked, hands buzzing, heart thumping. He could see the window, Richie’s frame blocking most of it. “Sorry, yeah- yeah, I’m good, Chef.” 

Sydney watched him carefully, a slow nod before she continued calling out orders. Carmen could feel Richie’s eyes on him, narrowed with curiosity. Carmen tried to be nonchalant, crossing the kitchen back towards Tina, his eyes cutting carefully, looking out the window. 

There you were. 

Sitting pretty at the middle table, surrounded by friends, some Carmen recognized from your Instagram. He’d actually logged in to the app, looked you up after the first date, consumed every photo of yours in the dark of his room. Cheeks burning with excited heat, stomach fluttering in a way he hadn’t felt since junior high. 

“Alright, walk five salads to nine.” Sydney called out. “Where’s our runners? God, Richie, can you run-” 

“-I got it.” Carmen called, the urgency in his tone making Tina jump behind him. Carmen took the tray before Gary could, his hands shaking as he lifted it. 

“Cousin, I can get it.” Richie frowned. 

“No, I-I got it.” Carmen nodded, swallowing down his fluttering nerves. His eyes cut to your table through the window, heart skipping when he saw you. “I got it. I’ll be- I’ll just be a second.” 

“I don’t- I can’t even handle that one right now.” Sydney sighed in exasperation. “Alright, Chefs. Let’s get back on track.” She announced, shaking her head. Richie frowned, pulling out his phone. 

Sugar’s cell buzzed against the hostess stand, excusing herself to check it. 

From: Richie 

‘Look at table nine.’ 

Sugar huffed. 

To: Richie 

‘Why? Is there something wrong?’ 

She stepped back, casually turning to scan the room, eyes landing on the table. A small group of girls, younger, and amongst them- Carmen? 

To: Richie 

‘Is something wrong with the food? Do I need to comp it?’ 

From: Richie 

‘No. Cousin wanted to go out there.’ 

Sugar frowned, angling her body behind the large plant near the front as casually as she could. She watched through the leaves as Carmen passed out the salads, each girl grinning widely, but their eyes always cut to one on the end. 

Carmen saved your salad for last, hoping the lowlights of the restaurant would hide his boyish blush, setting the bowl in front of you carefully. “Hey,” 

“Hi,” You smiled sheepishly, looking to meet his gaze. “Everything looks so good.” 

“Yeah? Thanks.” Carmen nodded. “I-I didn’t know you were comin’ tonight.” 

“I’m sorry.” You cringed softly, embarrassed heat flooding through your veins. You knew better, knew you shouldn’t have done this- showed up at his restaurant unannounced. 

“I, uh, it’s my friend’s birthday.” You nodded towards Alicia at the end of the table. “And I was telling them about that pasta you made me, and they really wanted to come try it.” Your nerves bubbled, rambling in nervous peals that seemed to pour out before you could stop them.  

“Yeah, no, that’s really nice. Thank you.” Carmen nodded, giving a half smile to your friends, hoping they didn’t see the way he wiped his clammy hands on his apron. “Why didn’t- Why didn’t you just call me? Tell me you were comin’ in.” 

“I didn’t want to bother you.” You muttered softly. “I honestly didn’t think you’d even see us here, I swear. I didn’t mean to bother you or anything-” 

“-You’re not bothering me.” Carmen’s voice dropped to a coo, accompanied with a soft smile that had your head spinning. “Never a bother, but, uh, next time? Bother me, ok? Wanna make sure you get the best seat in the house.” 

Your cheeks flushed with heat, your friends excited giggles only intensifying the rushing heat blanketing over your body. Carmen’s own cheeks heated, tongue rolling on the inside of his cheek to hide his grin. 

“Alright?” Carmen added, and in a complete act of shocking boldness, his hand squeezed your shoulder affectionately. A small gesture on the outside, but for Carmen, it was huge. 

“Alright.” You grinned, leaning into his touch, your hands sliding over his. 

“How’s everything so far?” Carmen turned to the table, nodding at the excited gushes of compliments, not missing the way your friends cut their eyes to you with animated glee. 

“Just let me know if you need anything, ok?” Carmen turned to you.

“I will.” You nodded, starry eyed with love sick affection. 

“Good. I’ll see you before you leave, alright?” Carmen muttered, ducking down towards you. His lips brushed over your cheek, your perfume clouding his senses. “You’re not botherin’ me. ‘M glad you’re here.” 

Your cheek pressed to his, a gentle, affectionate rub before Carmen parted. Both of your features painted with shy delight. 

Carmen could feel everyone’s eyes, through flickering gazes and lifted brows. Sydney’s gaze lingering over him skeptically, still counting tickets. Fak’s wide grin from the corner, loading trays to take out. 

“Hey, uh, Marcus.” Carmen ignored Richie’s raised brows, a teasing, questioning remark on the tip of his tongue. 

“Yes, Chef?” Marcus muttered, looking up from the cannolis he was garnishing. 

“Table nine has a birthday. I was thinkin’ maybe the chocolate ganache, punch it with the little circle to make it look like a cake. Add a candle?” Carmen muttered, hand rubbing across his face. 

“Yeah, Chef, I can do that.” Marcus nodded. 

“Thank you.” Carmen nodded. “And Chef? Let me know when it’s ready before you walk it.” 

Marcus frowned. “No, it’s not- I just wanna walk it, ok?” Carmen shook his head. 

“Alright.” Marcus nodded slowly. “Heard, Chef.” 

Richie smirked, leaning against the stainless steel table. “So,” Richie hummed. “There a complaint or somethin’? Need me to go talk to ‘em-” 

“-No,” Carmen snapped, the possessiveness in his tone startling the both of them. “Sorry, it’s- No, I-I don’t need you to do that, Chef. Everything’s good.” 

Richie nodded slowly, passing the dishes to Gary with a nod. “You gonna tell me what that was about?” 

“No, Chef.” Carmen clipped, an edge to his tone that was teetering on annoyed. “But, uh, there’s not gonna be a check on table nine.” 

“What?” Richie frowned. “Did you mess somethin’ up? Seriously, Cousin, if something's wrong it’s my job to know-” 

“-No, it’s not-.” Carmen huffed, eyes pinching closed, running a hand over his face in frustration. “Look, that’s… The girl on the end? I-I’ve been kinda seein’ her, ya know?” He muttered. 

Richie gawked, blinking in disbelief. “No shit.” He grinned. “No shit? You-You’re serious?” He turned to look out the window. 

“Don’t fuckin’ look.” Carmen hissed. “Look, it-it’s not a big deal, alright? Just don’t-don’t say anything o-or do anything.” 

Richie swallowed back a teasing remark, a reactive reaction from years of being with Mikey. How the two of them used to tease Carmen endlessly, until they were fighting on the front lawn, Mikey howling with laughter while Carmen was red faced with mortified anger. 

This time, Richie held back. He wasn’t sure why, call it divine intervention, a gut feeling maybe, but it felt different this time. 

“Alright.” Richie nodded slowly. “No ticket for nine. Heard.” 

Carmen’s foot tapped anxiously. “I mean, right? Th-That’s what I should do right?” Carmen looked over his shoulder out the window. “That would be shitty to give her a check? Be a complete jagoff move to charge her?” 

“Yeah,” Richie scoffed lightly. “Jagoff of the fuckin’ year. Makin’ your girl pay to come to your place.” 

Carmen’s heart swelled at the term- your girl. His girl. You were his girl. 

“Walk four Pappardelle to nine. Walk one Pappardelle vegetarian style to nine.” Sydney called. 

Carmen dipped the spoon in the glaze, garnishing the plate before sliding it towards Sydney. “So, you gonna take these out?” He muttered. 

“No,” Carmen huffed. “Gonna wait until the cake.” 

“Yeah, good idea, Cousin.” Richie nodded with a proud smile. “That when you’re gonna tell them no check tonight?” 

“No,” Carmen shook his head. “I don’t- It would feel weird comin’ from me.” He looked up at Richie. “I was gonna let you do it.” 

“Yeah, I can handle that.” Richie smirked. “And I won’t say anything, Cousin.” He stopped Carmen before he could say it. “I got you, Cousin. I won’t fuck it up, alright?” 

Carmen nodded slowly, a strangled thank you on the tip of his tongue. The door swung open behind Richie, and for a second, Carmen caught a glimpse of you. Smiling and laughing, leaned in over the table, no doubt giggling with your friends about him. Carmen’s heart squeezed, but this time, without fear. No, there was no dooming fear that you were mocking him, making fun of him. This time, he felt the content rush of adrenaline filled love. A change in his routine, yes. Unexpected, sure, but he was glad for it. Glad that you were there- here, with him.

[animusrox]

TOP 10

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Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse

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Oppenheimer

Barbie

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The Holdovers

The Iron Claw

Killers of the Flower Moon

MY LETTERBOXD Grade A 11.    The Killer 12.    Beau Is Afraid 13.    Dream Scenario 14.    Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3 15.    Godzilla Minus One 16.    American Fiction 17.    They Cloned Tyrone 18.     Evil Dead Rise 19.    Eileen 20.    The Artifice Girl 21.   Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Mutant Mayhem 22.    Talk to Me 23.    Reality 24.    Leave the World Behind 25.    A Thousand and One 26.    Mission: Impossible – Dead Reckoning Part One 27.    Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret. 28.    Theater Camp 29.   Carmen 30.    Merry Little Batman 31.    Priscilla 32.    Society of the Snow 33.    Infinity Pool 34.    Enys Men 35.    Sanctuary 36.    Rye Lane 37.    Skinamarink 38.    Monster 39.    Anatomy of a Fall 40.    Landscape with Invisible Hand 41.    Reptile 42.    Sisu 43.    Pinball: The Man Who Saved the Game 44.    No One Will Save You 45.    Tetris 46.    May December 47.    The Zone of Interest 48.    V/H/S/85 49.    Dumb Money 50.    El Conde 51.    Arnold 52.    Maestro 53.    Napoleon 54.    20 Days in Mariupol 55.    Influencer 56.    The Creator 57.    Origin 58.    Thanksgiving 59.    Next Goal Wins 60.    The Boy and the Heron 61.    Bottoms 62.    Wonka

[Press Keep Reading For The Full Graded List]

Grade B

63.   God Is a Bullet 64.    No Hard Feelings 65.    Joy Ride 66.    Fair Play 67.     Cocaine Bear 68.    NYAD 69.    Asteroid City 70.    Nowhere 71.    The Angry Black Girl and Her Monster 72.    Divinity 73.    The Equalizer 3 74.    The Last Voyage of the Demeter 75.    Venus 76.    Butcher’s Crossing 77.    Somewhere in Queens 78.    The Persian Version 79.    Boston Strangler 80.    Polite Society 81.    Miguel Wants to Fight 82.    The Color Purple 83.    The Royal Hotel 84.    Saw X 85.    All of Us Strangers 86.    Fallen Leaves 87.    Ferrari 88.    Elemental 89.    Peter Pan & Wendy 90.    Renfield 91.    Cat Person 92.    Scream VI 93.    The Hunger Games: The Ballad of Songbirds & Snakes 94.    BS High 95.    Blue Beetle 96.    Huesera: The Bone Woman 97.    When Evil Lurks 98.    Dark Harvest 99.    A Good Person 100.    Final Cut 101.    Knock at the Cabin 102.    Quiz Lady 103.    Leo 104.    Air 105.    The Super Mario Bros. Movie 106.    Batman: The Doom That Came to Gotham 107.    John Wick: Chapter 4 108.    Beaten to Death 109.    The Wrath of Becky 110.    Passages 111.    Transformers: Rise of the Beasts 112.    Gran Turismo 113.    65 114.    Sick 115.    Sister Death 116.    The Blackening 117.    Please Don’t Destroy: The Treasure of Foggy Mountain 118.    Flamin’ Hot 119.    Nimona 120.    Cobweb 121.    Totally Killer 122.    What’s Love Got to Do with It? 123.     Sharper 124.    Unseen 125.    Dunki 126.    Bird Box Barcelona 127.    The Marvels 128.    Shazam! Fury of the Gods

Grade C

129.   Wildflower 130.    Freelance 131.    M3GAN 132.    Strays 133.    Sympathy for the Devil 134.    Creed III 135.    Chevalier 136.    The Marsh King’s Daughter 137.    A Haunting in Venice 138.    The Little Mermaid 139.    Silent Night 140.    Master Gardener 141.    The Flash 142.    Fast X 143.    The Pope’s Exorcist 144.    Saltburn 145.    Kandahar 146.    Stand 147.    Plane 148.   Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny 149.    Fingernails 150.    Quicksand 151.    Fool’s Paradise 152.    Migration 153.    Rustin 154.    The Covenant 155.    Good Burger 2 156.    The Pod Generation 157.    Alice, Darling 158.    Insidious: The Red Door 159.    Missing 160.    Shotgun Wedding 161.    You Hurt My Feelings 162.    The Boogeyman 163.    Showing Up 164.    Aquaman and the Lost Kingdom 165.    Champions 166.    Consecration 167.    The Nun II 168.    Biosphere 169.    House Party 170.    The Exorcist: Believer 171.    Big George Foreman 172.    Dungeons & Dragons: Honor Among Thieves 173.    Children of the Corn 174.    The Beanie Bubble 175.    Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantumania

Grade F

176.    Anyone But You 177.    Marlowe 178.    Paint 179.    Extraction 2 180.    It Lives Inside 181.    Deliver Us 182.    Trolls Band Together 183.    Finestkind 184.    Corner Office 185.    Wish 186.    Prisoner’s Daughter 187.    Pain Hustlers 188.    Foe 189.    The Mother 190.    Old Dads 191.    Ghosted 192.    Ruby Gillman, Teenage Kraken 193.    Haunted Mansion 194.    Mafia Mamma 195.    Five Nights at Freddy’s 196.    The Machine 197.    Justice League: Warworld 198.    We Have a Ghost 199.    What Comes Around 200.    Legion of Super-Heroes 201.    The Boys in the Boat 202.    Attachment 203.    Operation Fortune: Ruse de Guerre 204.    About My Father 205.    You People 206.    Meg 2: The Trench 207.    Pathaan 208.    Rebel Moon - Part One: A Child of Fire 209.    Assassin 210.    Dalíland 211.    Vacation Friends 2

Bottom 10

212.    Sound of Freedom 213.    Winnie the Pooh: Blood and Honey 214.    When You Finish Saving The World 215.    Heart of Stone 216.    Family Switch 217.    Expend4bles 218.    Sweetwater 219.    Hypnotic 220.    80 for Brady 221.    Spinning Gold

[teaspacebar]

spiced chai

pairing: carmen "carmy" berzatto x reader

summary: you've been living in chicago for about a year, and you're suddenly managing the coffee shop in the well beloved bookstore, nan's. you meet carmen berzatto on a not-so-good day. you're thrust into the everchanging societal landscape that is making friends in your 20s..

word count: ~9.7k

warnings: language, depictions of mental illness, barista!reader, afab!reader (but tried to be as neutral as possible), neurodivergent!reader, they don't kiss, could be read as platonic tbh but there's crumbs in there if you look, takes place over the course of a few months, probably doesn't follow canon fully (i'm not caught up yet forgive me)

a/n: *dumps this here and runs* but actually this piece of writing appeared in my brain and i've been picking away at it for a couple of months. i feel like i've put more of myself into this fic than with anything else i've written, so this is definitely more of a self insert (pls be kind or don't read if that's not your vibe). i'm queer, non-binary, and autistic and i just wanted to insert that into this space. i feel like there's more to explore here, so i might write more for this if i feel so inclined.

Meeting Carmen Berzatto was not on your to-do list for Tuesday morning.

Not that having to run down to the nearest corner store to grab milk - since the milk fridge was on the fritz…again - at 4am was in your plans either. It always seemed like one step forward, three giant leaps back with the little shop on the corner you basically called home. It was weird, to be thrust into leadership as your manager made an abrupt exit. 

The small bookstore, with an even tinier coffee shop, had been your place of work for the last year or so. You loved it. The people were great, and Nan, the shop owner, was absolutely lovely. She was getting up in her years, but the genuine care she had for the employees made all the difference. She put her trust in you to run the cafe, saying “You have the experience, and the care you have for people shows. I know this. Everyone knows this. Now you just have to see it - have confidence.”

“Confidence my ass,” you mutter, carrying five gallons of milk around the corner.

What happens next might have been considered the beginning of a rom-com, but you’re a realist, and the world is shitty.

There’s a crash, and the distinct sound of three of the five gallons of milk dropping onto the sidewalk. You stare, watching in slow motion as the milk forms into a river, dripping off the sidewalk into the gutter.

The person who ran into you curses, “Shit — fuck, sorry, I—I wasn’t looking where I was…dammit.”

You grip the other two jugs in your arms, blinking out of the haze to let out a hysterical laugh. “Great…cool cool.” Cold plastic bites into your fingers, and you take a deep breath. “Yeah, okay, what else was gonna happen?” You finally look up to see the one you collided with. The man looks extremely uncomfortable, foot tapping like he wants to bolt. Plastering on a smile you shake your head, “It’s fine. I’m the one who thought carrying five gallons of milk would be fine.” You ramble on, trying to ease his nerves, “I mean — why would I drive, like, thirty seconds. Park, get the milk, come all the way back. Seemed stupid…but now there’s milk in my socks.” You grimace, fighting the urge to chuck the remaining jugs of milk in the street so you could also hurl your milk-soaked shoes and socks after them. It makes the ache in your chest sharpen.

“Here, where are you —“

You cut him off, “No, no, it’s okay. I got it, thank you.” You gesture to the door that’s just a few feet away from you. “This is me, anyway.” You adjust your hold on the milk, brushing past the man to pull open the door. You catch it with your hip, not daring to look back as you head behind the counter. You release a sigh, setting the bane of your existence on the black speckled marble. 

“Fuck,” you whisper, pressing the backs of your hands to your eyes. You shake out your arms, biting your lip. “Okay, asshole, let’s get your shit together.” You quickly put the milk into the small fridge below the bar and walk to the back. The squish of your socks curdles your stomach, and you breathe through your mouth to avoid the smell. You take off your shoes, throwing them into a plastic bag to take home. Tossing your socks into the garbage, you grab your replacement sneakers and socks from your cubby. It wasn’t the first time you’ve dropped something on your shoes, it wouldn’t be the last.

You take your time in the back. You had gotten to the shop around 4am, unable to sleep. You were messing around with recipes, seeing if there was a possibility of baking some of the food in the cafe fresh, instead of outsourcing. It was something you put on your own plate, and you didn’t want to disappoint Nan. You had shown up early, looking to try out some muffins, and noticed the fridge had been hovering at sixty degrees all night. You’ll have to grab some more milk before the day starts, but that could be a problem for 8am you.

Walking through the swinging doors, you jump as you see someone at the bar counter. Pressing a hand to your fluttering heart, you finally take in the man that had run into you earlier. A mop of curly hair on his head, white tee, very blue eyes…and standing behind eight gallons of milk.

“Um…” you look between the milk and him a few times.

“The…uh – the door was unlocked. Figured I owed you one.” He rubs the back of his neck.

“How’d you even get it all here?” 

“Made two trips.” His gaze snaps back to you as you laugh, this time more genuine. “Fridge go out, or somethin’?” You’re still staring at him like he has two heads, and he rambles on, “Sorry for just…barging in. I used to go to this place…when I was kid. My sister and I would grab whatever pastries they had left for the day. And, yeah, we’d just sit, read random shit. I work at the restaurant just down the street…’s why I ran into you. Wasn’t paying attention – sorry, again.”

Suddenly, it all clicks. “You own The Bear.”

“Uh, yeah – yeah, I do.”

You feel nervous, out of the blue. Nan hadn’t stopped talking about the Berzatto’s, and Natalie had become a regular while the restaurant was being remodeled. You’re sure you’d seen other employees come in as well, for reading material. You vaguely remember talking to a very sweet man about baking, as he carried a ton of cookbooks in his arms.

You knew Carmen Berzatto, but only through the words of others – and the research you did late one night because you were nosey. To have him standing in the bookstore you worked at, for him to have gotten you milk, is sending you for a loop. Swallowing a lump in your throat, you begin to put the milk in their new home. You really need to call the refrigerator guy again. 

“That’s so cool,” the words fall from your mouth, others staying in your head. 

It's insane that someone like him is even speaking to you. He’s around the same age as you; He owns a restaurant and you’re barely able to run a tiny coffee bar in a bookstore. You’re an idiot who dropped milk onto the sidewalk. Why didn’t you just take the car? You should’ve just taken the car. Now Carmen fucking Berzatto has bought you milk at 5am because he feels bad for you. How pathetic. Call the fucking refrigerator guy.

“Thanks…for the milk.” You back away from the counter, gesturing behind you, “Lemme grab some money from the cash box real quick.”

“No, don’t worry about it.”

“It’s really fine, you didn’t have to go out of your way. I’ll be right back.” The itch creeps its way up your spine, and you push through the door as a shudder passes through you. You shake out the twitch, going and grabbing the cash box. You do mental math, trying to see how much you should give him. Did he even need the money? “Idiot,” you chide yourself. Today was not the day for your brain. 

Snagging a twenty and a ten, you rush back out to the bar, only to find the store empty. A groan escapes through your teeth, and you clench the cash in your hands, crumpling it. You walk to the front door, peering out to see if you can spot the chef. He must’ve made a quick getaway. As you turn to get prepped for the day, you spot a brochure on the counter, far away from its home of the stand at the front of the bookstore. Eat Your Way Through Chicago! 

Scribbled on the front is a phone number, and the words:

Fridge  Ask for Fak Say Carm sent you

“Fucking fuck.” You whisper, a smile creeping on your face against your will, “Asshole.”

It’s later in the week when you hear the bell attached to the front door – ding! You poke your head up from where you're arranging some alternative milks under the counter, seeing a familiar blonde.

“Hey, Natalie!” You pop up, an easy grin appearing on your face. “Half-caff?”

She nods, “Please.”

“How are you?” 

“Oh, you know.”

You ring her up quickly, then grab a pitcher to steam some milk for her latte. Natalie walks away from the counter to browse some books. The steam wand whirs, and you watch the vortex inside the pitcher. You touch the sides every so often, waiting for it to get to the right temperature. Making drinks is all muscle memory now, and you tamp the espresso grounds into the portafilter with precision. Wiping the excess from the lip, you lock it into the machine and press the shot button. As the shot pulls, you wipe down the steam wand with a wet cloth. 

“Is this any good?” Natalie has come back over, holding up a book with a half-naked man on the front.

You laugh, “It’s a Nan recommendation, so…” The shots are poured into the paper cup, and you swirl the milk into it, doing a quick tulip design. You sprinkle a little cinnamon over the top, before placing it in front of the woman.

“Smutty then, for sure.” Natalie laughs, then does a little excited gasp when she sees the latte art. “It looks so good every time!” 

“Thanks,” you reply, “Gets covered by the lid, but it’s fun to practice.”

“Too bad you don’t have for-here mugs,” she says thoughtfully.

“Ever the idea-haver! There'd be more spills to clean up – Nan would lose her mind if any books got ruined.” You point to the book still in her hand, “You want me to ring you up for that?” It was early enough in the afternoon that the only other person here was a part-timer, Jack, somewhere between the shelves stocking books. You had convinced Nan to upgrade to a different register system (which ended up saving money in the long run), so you’re able to ring up both books and café products at your register. 

She shakes her head, sighing. “I barely have any time to read, these days. I was thinking about trying out audiobooks? I used to listen to them at my old job, but it’s way too loud in the kitchen for that to work out.” The latte goes to her mouth, a pleasant hum leaving her as she takes a sip. “You’re the best.”

“Thanks, Natalie.”

She squints at you, “It’s Nat, c’mon.” A big conspiratorial grin makes its way onto her face, “So, I heard that you got some help with your fridge.”

A sharp pain twists in your chest. “Oh, um…yeah.” You let out a soft chuckle, “It’s working, which is great. Neil was a big help.”

“He said you made him the best hot chocolate he’s ever had,” Natalie taps the counter with her pointer finger twice. “Said he didn’t know how you got his number, though.” 

You shrug, wiping down the counter, “Nan had it. And the usual guy wasn’t calling me back.” Neil had told you the exact same thing, both about the drink and the number. Something had held you back from saying where you got the number from. Embarrassment, maybe? It felt weird, feeling like you owed anyone favors, or that things would be unbalanced. People usually never give without looking to receive.

“Frankie, right? He’s an asshole. Overcharges for everything.” Natalie doesn’t push you for answers, something you’re grateful for.

“Right! He disappeared one time and said he’d ‘be right back’ and then was gone for like, two hours! And he added that to his hourly!” The two of you giggle at the shittiness of people for a minute, when a ping causes Natalie to pull her phone from her pocket.

“I should run.” She reaches into her purse, and puts a five into your tip jar. “Thanks again!” 

As she turns to go, you call out her name. “Would you - maybe - I have some extra muffins. The place we get them from gave us some of the wrong ones…or they’re a tad over baked, or something. I can’t sell them. Would you wanna take them with you?”

“That’s so sweet of you! Yeah, I’m sure they’ll get eaten up.”

You grab the box of muffins, handing them over to her, “Thanks.”

“Thank you, babe.” She leaves with a smile, and you look down to brush the flour off your apron. 

“Hey, guys, I got some goodies!” Natalie sets the box of muffins on the table, where everyone is seated for family meal. 

Neil immediately grabs the box, pointing to the sticker on the top, “You went to Nan’s? Man, I could use a hot chocolate right now.” 

“I’m sure you can walk over there and order one, my love.” Natalie replies, waving for him to put the box back on the table.

Marcus snags two muffins, handing one to Sydney who is sitting on his right. Taking a bite, he stops chewing, eyebrows raised. “Dude,” he nudges the girl next to him.

“Dude,” Syd parrots, popping some muffin into her mouth. “Wait, woah.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” 

“Nat, where did you get these?” Sydney calls to the woman now sitting at the end of the table. The muffins are passed down the rest of the table.

Marcus has started dissecting the muffin, “Macadamia nuts, sick.”

“Oh they’re from Nan’s just down the corner!” She tells them how you offered them to her since they were the wrong ones from a vendor and possibly over-baked.

Syd snorts, “Over-baked? These are perfect!”

“What’s perfect?” Carmy walks out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel.

“Bear, come eat!” Natalie waves him over, pulling him into the seat next to hers. “You’ve been at it all morning, take a minute, okay?” She gives him a look that tells him not to argue, and he huffs in response, but does as she says.

“What’s perfect?” He asks again, taking the muffin box from Sweeps as it’s passed to him. As the cinnamon crumble topping hits his taste buds, he leans back in his chair. “Shit.”

“That’s what we’re saying!” 

Syd and Marcus begin talking over one another, the dull roar of family making its home in Carmy’s ears. He has another bite of muffin, thumb swiping over the sticker atop the box.

Nan’s Books & Brews

Simple lettering, surrounding a doodle of a coffee cup sitting on an open book.

“When did they,” he clears his throat as he leans closer to Nat, “when did they start doin’ stuff like this?”

Natalie purses her lips, “Not sure, honestly. They only had that small coffee machine and that plastic pastry case when we were growing up, remember? I think they added the actual coffee bar right before Covid?” Carmy nods, looking out the windows, a curdle in his stomach.

“A lot’s changed,” he murmurs.

“Yeah,” Nat sighs, a hand over her stomach, “a lot has.”

A few weeks go by, as uneventful as they can be. You try out more recipes, and the staff of Nan’s is always sent home with one treat or another. Muffins, cinnamon rolls, croissants (which were a bust), and the like. Natalie is still a regular, and Neil has shown up to save your ass more than once. The brochure with his number on it taunts you from where it’s stuck up on the corkboard in the back.

Which is what has led you to standing in front of The Bear, a joe-to-go in one hand, paper bag in the other. An envelope burns in the inner pocket of your flannel jacket. Steeling your nerves, you knock on the door. Some yells are heard from inside, nicknames getting passed around like it’s a holiday dinner. You see a man walk towards you, in a nice suit, and he opens the door.

“Can I help you?” It’s not said unkindly, but there’s a look in his eyes that’s making you nervous. 

“Coffee delivery?” You say sheepishly, holding up the coffee traveler by its cardboard handle.

“Richie, who’s at the - hey!” Natalie immediately smiles when she sees you, and you sigh a breath of relief. Things were easy with her; she had this amazing way of comforting you without even trying.

“Hi,” you wiggle your fingers, still keeping hold of the objects in your hands. “Wanted to say thanks for all the help Neil’s been giving me, and when Nan found out, she insisted I bring over some coffee for the team, so…”

“You workin’ at Nan’s?” The guy - Richie - asks.

“For the past year or so, yeah.” You reply, thanking Natalie as she grabs the paper bag from you.

“Let them in, Richie, c’mon.” She presses on his chest, causing him to back up with his hands in the air. “Come in! I’ve been meaning to ask if you wanted to come by for a tour.” You follow behind her, taking in the layout of the place. It’s absolutely gorgeous, and a sense of awe falls over you. She has you set the coffee traveler on the bar, letting you take the paper bag from her hands. You pull out a cup holder with two cups in it.

“One half-caff french vanilla latte for you and…a hot chocolate for Neil.” As if by magic, Neil pops through the door to the kitchen.

“For me?!”

You chuckle as he pulls you into a hug. When he pulls away, he grabs his cup with a happy sound, rushing back into the kitchen when “Fak!” is yelled.

“The fuck Fak get a coffee for?” Richie frowns, causing you to bristle. Natalie swats at him, beginning to explain as you continue to walk around the restaurant. As you pass by a wood table, your fingers tap on it, the sound echoing in your ears. It sends a shiver through you, and a small smile appears on your lips. 

Natalie calls out to you, tearing your gaze back to her. People have begun to swarm around the bar, placing food on it, and your coffee is suddenly surrounded by things that smell amazing. “Did you want to eat with us, babe?” Attention turns to you, and the itchiness in your limbs reappears with a vengeance.

 A tall man, wearing a beanie, grins, “Hey, those muffins were amazing, by the way.”

You sputter, “Oh. Um—“

“Tell the chef, or baker — whoever,” he laughs at himself. “They were fire.”

Warmth rises in you, “Yeah, I’ll pass it on.”

“Babe, lunch?” Natalie says again, louder this time. More of the staff have begun digging into their meals.

“No, it’s okay!” The corner of your mouth curves up in a small smile, this one less genuine than before. You begin to back up towards the door, a gnaw of guilt in your gut as Natalie frowns. 

“Cousin! Food!” Richie yells out, followed by laughter from everyone else.

“I’m coming!” A familiar figure bursts through the kitchen door, “You don’t gotta yell like an asshole.”

Carmen Berzatto stops in his tracks when he sees you; the envelope in your pocket burns hotter. You look down at your shoes, but they just remind you of the milk dripping down the sidewalk.

“Carm,” Natalie introduces you, “they work at—“

“Nan’s.” Everyone chimes in, and you have to stop yourself from flinching. You look over at Carmy, eyes meeting.

There’s a moment where you feel like you’re going to get swallowed whole. The pipes are going to burst and water will fill up the room and you’re going to drown.

You walked straight into a den of hungry beasts, and you’re just a measly rabbit.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay?” Natalie’s words are muffled in your ears, but you manage to shake your head.

“I have someone from books covering me, and they barely know how to work the espresso machine.” You force a laugh. It grates against your vocal chords. “It was nice meeting you guys, though.” With a meek wave, you turn on your feet and speed out the door. Rounding the corner, you keep walking until you’re sure they can’t see you. Veering into the alleyway behind the restaurant, you let out a shaky breath, leaning against the brick. 

You press your thumb into the palm of your hand. Inhale, hold four seconds, exhale. Inhale, hold four seconds, exhale. It’s over before it starts, but your chest remains tight. A reminder, which will eventually dissipate once you're back in the shop.

The coffee bar, your shield; apron, your armor. 

A door opening causes you to jump, startled. Your eyes meet blue, widening like you’ve been caught. “Sorry! I was just–” You push off the brick.

Carmen seems just as surprised as you, “No, s’fine.” He clears his throat, as the two of you settle into silence.

A fwip of a lighter. Four seconds. An exhale of smoke.

You’re unsure if you should leave, but it’s like the bottoms of your shoes are stuck to the ground. “Did you-” He starts, lifting up his hand that holds a lit cigarette.

You shake your head, “No, but - um, thanks.” Your fingers twitch, and you reach to pull the envelope from inside your jacket. Something that appears so insignificant, held out in the space between you. When he just stares, you wave it a bit, until he takes the envelope with his free hand.

“What’s this?” 

“Cash, for the milk you bought.”

“You didn’t have to-“

“I did.” You bounce on your heels, “I should actually get going this time. Just wanted to give you that but…” He doesn’t respond, something you’re getting used to. You wonder where the man who rambled about reading with his sister at Nan’s went, but decide now is the best time to make your escape. As you start to walk toward the street, you turn, “The restaurant looks great, by the way. Good luck with the opening.”

“Good luck with the opening.”

Inhale. Four seconds. Exhale.

"Let it rip, Bear."

Inhale. Four seconds. Exhale.

“-a complete waste of fucking time.”

Inhale. Four seconds. Exhale.

“I’m really sorry you feel that way, Carm.”

Natalie invites you to Friends & Family.

You don’t go.

The next month flies by. Marcus, Richie, and Syd have joined your little group of regulars. Richie even brings his daughter, Eva, whenever he’s able. She’s a joy and absolutely hilarious to have around. Richie has grown on you, the rough edges of him softening after a few cortados.

One night, he had rushed into the shop, Eva in tow, all but begging you to watch her for a few hours. He was supposed to be off for the day, to spend time with his daughter, but they’re understaffed at The Bear. A few weeks in, which confused you, but questions weren’t asked. You said yes - obviously - and had Eva help you with little things around the shop, until you close. The two of you bonded over a shared love of Taylor Swift while making muffins. By the time Richie came to pick her up, Eva was tuckered out in a loveseat, patchwork blanket tucked up to her chin.

“I owe you one,” Richie had whispered, holding his daughter in his arms.

You shook your head, “You deserve to have time with her.”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes, “Yeah, bring it up with the Bear himself.”

You weren’t planning on it. The man is barely on your mind. Except for every time someone from The Bear walks in. They look drained, more and more each day. It’s a certain type of pain, to watch people – that once had so much life in them – lose the light that you felt so harshly the first time you walked into the restaurant. You hear inklings; mentions of a changing menu every night, nonnegotiables, and the like.

It worries you. It’s not your place - you’re more than aware of that. But you’ve come to care for these people. And by extension, some part of you wants to see how he’s doing. It’s an odd - biting -feeling. How strange it is, to know someone through everyone else’s eyes but your own. You have to fight back the urge to force yourself into the places you do not fit. You’re resigned to watching from afar, providing comfort behind your coffee bar. It’s what you’re good at. It might be all you're good at.

Some sick twist of fate decides to upturn it all one Friday night.

Carmy had stayed late, to nobody’s surprise. He’d been adjusting the menu, preparing it for tomorrow, when the flashes hit him. He decides to walk it off, popping another thing of nicotine gum into his mouth. He walks aimlessly, trying to push the overwhelming thoughts out of his head. The street is dark - most places being closed - but light pours onto the sidewalk, just a few feet ahead of him. Almost a reflex, he peers into the windows.

A laugh of disbelief - more a huff of air through his nose - leaves him.

You’re dancing, headphones over your ears, as you mix something in a large bowl. It’s unlike anything he’s seen - from you or otherwise. There’s a sense of freedom in your movements, so different from the few times he’d seen you before. The tightness in his chest lightens, some, at the sight of you so obviously in your element.

And you're looking right at him.

“Shit,” he mumbles. You tilt your head at him, doing a little wave. He lifts a hand in reply, and you point haphazardly at the door. Before he can respond, or walk away – anything, you’re heading around the counter. A click of the door unlocking, and you pull it open part way.

“Hey,” you say, a little loud. With a wince, you pull the headphones off to rest around your neck. Music can be heard – a muffled, upbeat song that he doesn’t recognize. “Hey,” you say again, quieter this time. Silence passes between you, and he watches your nose twitch. “…did you wanna?” You jut your thumb behind you. You’re almost unrecognizable from the first time you met, calmer, somehow.

“Yeah, sure.” The words come out, easier than he thinks, and slips through the door you hold open. You lock it behind him, turning back around to slide behind the counter.

You grab a muffin tin, beginning to fill each one with a scoop of the batter you had been mixing. You make quick work of it, pushing them into the small commercial oven, wiping your fingers on the towel that’s pulled through a loop in your jeans.

Leaning against the counter, you finally look at him, “Okay, Pick your poison.”

“What?”

“Coffee? Americano, latte, cappuccino?” It’s like you’re trying to read him, wanting to crack the spine of a book and see what’s inside.

“I don’t really do the…caffeine.”

You hum thoughtfully, tapping your fingers on the counter in some type of rhythm. “Can I make you something? Low-caffeinated, of course.” He nods. “Anything you hate?” A shake of his head.

You grab a cup and get to work. You’re singing under your breath - the song that’s playing from the headphones around your neck. With your eyes off of him, he takes a moment to actually observe the shop. Warm lighting, with dark wood bookshelves making it feel cozy without being too claustrophobic. There’s smaller tables, with different recommendations for certain genres. A sprinkling of string lights and hanging plants just adds to the homey feeling, one so different from the pristine, white kitchens he’s used to being in. So different from his own restaurant. The coffee shop portion is close to the front, dark marble countertops and a chalkboard menu - swirling letters describing monthly drink specials.

“Alright, order up,” you call out softly.

Carmy walks back up to the bar, eyeing the cup. Warmth presses into his skin as his fingers curl around it. You mention that it’s hot, to let it cool for a bit. Silence falls between the two of you - in a way he finds comforting. Your eyes flick between him and the counter you’re wiping down.

“Do you normally do this?” He asks.

“The making drinks thing, or the staying at the shop way too late thing?” You give a wry smile. “Could ask you the same.”

He scratches at his nose, “Noted.”

The minutes pass; you go about cleaning the shop, rinsing dishes and setting things up for the next day. It’s an art he’s well versed in. The muscle memory takes over for you, and Carmen becomes invisible. It feels nice, to just be in a place where nobody has anything to ask of him. He finally tries the drink. It’s good, milky, if a little sweet, but it eases the last of the sourness in his stomach away. A timer on your phone goes off, and you tug on a flowery oven mitt to pull the muffins out of the oven. Chocolate and spice invades his nostrils, soothing him even more. You grab one, hissing a bit since it’s hot, and put it on a plate, bringing it back over to him. Leaning over the bar, you reach for forks that are in a metal cup, right near Carmy. You’re close, with no care about being in his personal space. It’s only for a second, and then you’re back in your previous position.

“You can have some, as long as you promise not to be an ass about it.” You hold out a fork for him. The words cause him to cringe, but he takes the utensil from you.

He stares at the muffin, running his thumb on the underside of the fork. “How much trouble am I in?”

You shrink back a little, “W-what?”

He’s met you what - twice? Both times felt clunky, an awkwardness to the both of you. Here, it’s simpler. Under the cover of night, huh? A voice that sounds awfully like Mikey’s says in the back of his mind. His family won’t stop talking about you. Or drinking your coffee.

“The Bear,” he mutters. “They talk to you, right?”

You laugh, surprised. “Do you actually want to know?” You hold up a hand before he can reply, “Actually, no. They don’t talk to me. I see things, sure. But I’m not getting anyone in trouble with the boss.” You’re on the defensive, not even for yourself, but for his kitchen.

“They-They’re not in trouble.” One look from you and he deflates, sighing. “Okay, yeah. Just…just say something.”

“I haven’t even been to eat there.”

“You should come,” he says.

Another laugh - a scoff, more-like, “You think I could afford your place?” You bite your lip, pinching the bridge of your nose. After a moment, you continue, gently, “Do you have any fun?”

“Fun.” The word is like poison in his mouth.

“Yes, fun. I know that food service isn't the best, but it’s good to have fun, or to at least enjoy it.” You wave your hands around, “That family meal stuff you guys do? That’s so sweet, and you have a whole family unit going on in that kitchen, or whatever. If this restaurant is supposed to be the rest of your life, you should like it, at least a little bit, right?” Your torso melts into the counter, and you rest your head on your arm. “And like, maybe? Don’t change the menu every night, or something. It’s new, right? You gotta work out the kinks first before jumping in all-” you blow air out through your cheeks.

A beat of quiet, then, “The menu, huh?”

“Eleven thousand for butter?” You parrot back. At his frown, you hold up your hands, “I’m just a barista, what would I know?” You say it without heat, and yet he feels guilt crawl up his throat.

“That’s not-”

“I know, Carmen.” A sigh leaves your lips, “You asked, so I talked. Again, take everything with a grain of salt.” The words get softer, as if you’re talking more to yourself than to him, “Just remember who’s going down with you if it ends up crashing and burning.”

You stab your fork into the muffin, tearing it in half. He follows suit, lifting a bite of it to his lips. Spice floods his taste buds, and he grunts. You blink up at him, fork hanging from your mouth. He’s suddenly starving, and he eagerly gets himself another forkful. “S’good.” He mumbles through the food. Carmen watches as you process his words, pressing your lips together to hide a smile. You two finish the muffin, and there’s an ominous sense of peace that covers him like a blanket. “Thanks.”

“For yelling at you?”

Carmy lets the chuckle spill out, “If that’s what you call yelling…” He trails off, sobering, “Do you have fun?”

You hum, contemplating. “Yeah. I mean, it’s coffee, at the end of the day. It’s just nice to see people, to make their day a little better than it was. I like to try out new things, to create, to get recommendations.” You stop, seeing him staring at you, “What?”

“You’re different…from the other day, s’all.”

You’re perplexed, scrunching your nose, “Well I had a bad day, the first time. And I don’t do…well, with new people.”

“Unless you’re behind the counter.”

Your eyes widen, something flickering behind them, like he’s seen something you didn’t want him to. “Touche.” Checking your phone, you clear your throat, “Alright, we should probably get out of here if we want any semblance of sleep.” He follows your lead, as you flick off the lights, throwing you backpack over your shoulder. He waits while you lock the front door, small key dangling on a keychain. You turn, looking at him, before holding out a paper bag, “Muffin for the road?”

He grabs it, an odd feeling bubbling in his chest, “Oh - uh, thanks.”

You suddenly look sheepish, fiddling with the strap of your bag, “And if you’re out late again, feel free to stop by. If you need a break, or something.” A beat. “Oh, again, take what I said with a grain of salt, yeah? Just - maybe - try to take care of yourself a little.” You laugh nervously, and Carmy sees the truth of his earlier observation. You’re still more relaxed, but the nerves have crept in as you step outside your comfort zone. Something he knows all too well. “Anyways, have a good night - morning.” You shake your head, blowing a raspberry through your lips.

“Night. Get home safe.” He murmurs. You turn on your heel, walking down the street. He tightens his grip on the paper bag.

Take care of yourself.

At least enjoy it.

You should like it, at least a little bit, right?

Carmy doesn’t know if he truly remembers what liking cooking is like. He’s found little bits of it, in moving back home. In Marcus’ eyes as he creates something new. In Syd’s determination to make amazing food. There’s a passion there that he’s lost somewhere along the way.

He sees it in you, and it calls out to him - the tide being pushed and pulled by the moon. A curious feeling, gnawing at his stomach. A hunger for something he can’t make sense of, but he pulls the muffin out of the bag to eat on his walk home.

Carmy keeps showing up at Nan’s, usually late at night. You didn’t expect him to take you up on your offer, yet a smile graces your lips every time he does.

He was right, when he said you feel most comfortable behind the counter. You knew it, but having someone else acknowledge it felt…weird. Like you weren’t playing your part right. Yet it also felt good, to be seen.

Conversation between the two of you still feels stilted, occasionally, but you find comfort in the quiet moments. And the not-so quiet ones; with music playing at just above a reasonable level, you mouthing the words as you dance around behind the bar. The mask slowly slides off when he comes around, and it’s easier to be goofy.

You think it surprises him. He’s not quite sure what to do, when you’re cruising on the linoleum tile you call a dance floor. But he never tells you that you’re weird, or too much. You’ve maybe even seen him bite back a smile. You swear there’s dimples hiding somewhere — a fleeting thought that you let fly away before you linger on it too long.

“What do you think?” You’ve turned the music down, notepad on the counter, your favorite pen in hand. You click it a few times, sound satisfying the little itch in the back of your brain.

“Not sure if I’m a matcha fan,” Carmy murmurs. You nod, writing down his response onto the paper. It’s almost filled — you’ll have to turn to the next page soon — with different drinks you’ve had Carmy try, determined to find the right one. He’s harder to pin than others, something you’re not necessarily surprised by.

That's partially on you. You're unsure of how much to ask. How much could you poke the both metaphorical and literal Bear until it breaks? You've been enjoying your time, but you've yet to ask him how work is going. He doesn't ask you about your personal life, so why would you ask about his?

There's a curiosity there, though. To see what makes Carmen Berzatto tick. You fear the two of you might be a little too similar.

You turn to go back to cleaning your mess — the reason being a fresh tray of cookies cooling on the counter, when he says your name. “Did you get a new tattoo?”

Gaze flashing to the wrap you have on your arm, peeking out from the sleeve of your shirt, you turn bashful. “Oh,” you hum, “I did. It’s been on my list for awhile. I’m keeping it wrapped at work while it heals - god knows I spill everything all over myself.”

“Can I — What did you get?” He’s just as sheepish as you, a boyish glow about him. You’d never talked about tattoos before. His evidence is on his arms; yours are mostly concealed — easy to hide with the oversized button downs and jeans you wear.

You pull your phone from your back pocket, “Here, I’ll pull up a photo of it.” Placing your phone on the counter, Carmy grabs it, zooming in on the two-headed calf that’s found its home on your bicep. The tattoo is fresher in the photo, line work popping out against your skin. “The longest living two-headed calf lived 17 months. Her name was Gemini — a little on the nose, I think. There’s also this poem by Laura Gilpin, that just kinda struck me.” Your ramble tumbles off, a half smile pulling at your lips. “It’s sad, but the kind that makes you hurt in a nice way? If that even makes sense.” You wave a hand around, then reach to take a sip from his cup.

The matcha settles the nerves hiding under your skin, the earthy flavor dancing on your tongue. As you set the cup back on the counter, you point at his hand, “What’s that stand for?” Your own fingers twitch, fighting the urge to brush them across his own. “S.O.U?”

“Ah, sense of urgency.” He says, fiddling with your phone.

You laugh, quickly covering it with a hand, “Sorry, I — sorry, that just makes so much sense.” Before he can speak, you shake your head, “Not in a bad way, necessarily. It’s just so obvious how little work-life balance you have.”

“We’re literally at your shop in the middle of the night.” Carmen huffs exasperatedly, corner of his mouth curling up.

You hold your hands up, conceding, “Okay, I get it. Misery loves company - or whatever. God, we’re both crazy, aren’t we? We should get out more.”

He hums in response, tapping his phone twice to check the time. Anxiety swells up in your throat, and there’s something biting at your heels. The silence doesn’t feel comfortable anymore.

You said something wrong, the little voice in your head whispers. You lost the script and got too close and now he’s pulling back. How can you fix it? You have to fix it.

“What’s your favorite one?” His blue eyes glance up at you. Invisible hand squeezing your lungs, you stammer, “Tattoo. What’s the one you like most?”

His words come out softly, “A house boat. I, uh, got it before leaving Copenhagen. I stayed in one while I was over there, and put out water for an invisible cat.” Relief floods you as he talks. It’s the most he’s spoken about anything, and you see a glimmer behind his eyes.

It feels a little too close to home.

“You really loved it over there, huh?”

As if caught, he clears his throat, “It was cool…different.”

Different from Chicago, you don’t say. “I get that,” you murmur instead.

You knew what it was like, to run away. The need for escape pushing you into flight as the metaphorical dog chases the rabbit.

You wonder what Carmen’s dog was. Or is. If it’s even a dog at all.

“What about you? What’s your favorite?”

You’re pulled from your thoughts. “Oh! Um, it’s silly.” You worry at your bottom lip.

“You don’t—”

“No, hold on, it’s just,” you push yourself onto the counter with the palms of your hands. Carmen leans back as you swing your legs over the bar, letting your feet rest on the barstool next to him. You lean over, pulling up your pants leg to show the tattoo on the right side of your calf. He stares at it for a moment, confusion clear in his gaze. “See, I told you.”

“Is it a moth, or something?”

“Moth-man, Carmen. Mothman.”

“Am I supposed to know what that is?”

“He’s a cryptid. There’s literally stories of a Chicago Mothman.” He peers up at you in amusement, causing you to scrunch your face at him. “I swear on my life Carmen Berzatto, don’t be an asshole.”

“I’m not.” He laughs, and your chest loosens. You got Carmen Berzatto to laugh. “It looks good, the style is nice,” he gestures to your leg.

You smile, “Thanks.”

Nodding, he goes to sip from his cup. He makes a face, pulling it away from him, “Yeah, I don’t like this.”

He holds it out to you as you reach for it, laughter spilling from your lips, “More grass for me.” You drink, and let the cup rest on your thigh, fingers tapping on the plastic lid.

“I’m not…” Your head turns to look at him, watching as he runs a hand through his hair. “I’m not really good at this.”

“...at what?” You whisper, scared if you talk any louder you’ll scare him away.

“Talking? Not working? Who the fuck knows,” his hand leaves his hair and passes over his face.

“I’m not either, really.” You pick at your jeans, “But we’re trying, right? You come by more than I thought you would.”

“Really?”

You snort, “Dude, the first time I was surprised you even came in.” Gently, you add, “And you don’t have to be perfect at conversation to be friends with someone.” His eyes meet yours as you nudge his shoulder with your knee. “I’m weird, you’re weird, that’s okay.”

Carmen rolls his eyes good naturedly. His legs are bouncing, and you can almost see him chewing the word around before it finally leaves, “Friends?”

“Friends.” You affirm. Silence passes between you, until a growl comes from your stomach.

The man laughs, looking all the prettier for it, “You hungry?”

“Starving,” you groan.

He gets up from his seat, grabbing his denim jacket that’s hung over the chair on his left, “C’mon.”

It takes a moment, but it clicks. “Oh my god,” you gasp out, hopping off the counter. With a speed you only have during a lunch rush, you run to the back. You untie your apron, hang it up on a hook, and grab your tote bag. “Wallet, keys, phone…phone!”

“Out here!” Carmen yells. You grin, rushing back out to the front, bouncing on your heels. “You good?”

“As I’ll ever be.” You shake your keys with enthusiasm. He laughs as you both leave, and you turn to lock up. There’s excitement buzzing through you, like caffeine would if your brain weren’t wired a bit funky. A thought cuts through the haze, “Oh shit, I forgot to–”

“I got the trash.” The street lights reflect off his blue eyes.

Your heart twinges a little, “Thanks.”

“No problem.” He gestures with his head, “Now let’s go before your stomach eats itself.”

“Hey Carm?!”

The man pokes his head into the office, one hand wrapped around the door, “Yeah, what?”

Natalie raises an eyebrow, “You busy?”

Carmy scoffs, “Yeah, Sugar, I’m busy.”

It’s lunch time. Marcus has pastries, Tina’s running prep. Syd is around…avoiding him. He tries not to think about it for too long. Richie is who knows where.

Fuck, don’t be an asshole, asshole.

Deflating, he asks, “What’s up? Everything okay?”

“I’m spending my hour of alone time figuring shit out here, while Pete watches the baby.” His sister sighs, glancing down at the paperwork on the desk, “I’m managing. Anyways, that’s not what I wanted to talk about.”

He wants to ask about the baby. His niece. But Natalie barrels over the topic to say, “Were you here late the other night?” He must have made a face because Natalie sighs, exasperated. “I know you stay later than everyone else, doing god knows what, but I got a notification on my phone the other night-“

“What notification?”

She rolls her eyes, “The alarm system, dummy. I get alerts.”

“No, yeah, I get that. But I turned it off.”

It could only be from the other night, when he brought you back to the restaurant. He’s not sure why he did — he almost had a panic attack in front of you while debating what to make. It's strange, how much an environment can affect someone. Nan's feels so comfortable to him now, like nothing can happen to him when he's in those four walls. Where was the last place he felt like that?

You don’t need to impress anyone, Carmen. It’s just me, you had said.

Simple words that cut through him like a knife. You asked for comfort food, so he made you grilled cheese with tomato soup. The little dance you did every time you took a bite relit a fire inside of him that had been burnt out by years of working in kitchens.

“I know. I’m asking because the alarm was set, and then you turned it off again a few hours later.” Natalie unlocks her phone, showing him her screen that has some app pulled up with timestamps on it. “Are you sleeping? Look, I know things aren’t great right now—" Natalie cuts herself off with another sigh.

“It’s fine. Things are fine.” At her pointed look, he holds his hands up in surrender. “I’m working on it, okay? Just…are you good? Do you need anything?”

“About 48 hours of interrupted sleep would be great.” Her gripe falls off into a laugh, which he returns.

Stepping into the room further, he pulls the door closer, just a slim crack of clean white light coming through. “I’ve been a shitty brother lately.”

“No…” Natalie snorts, “Okay yeah, a bit. I love you, though.”

He mumbles the words back, tapping out a rhythm on his thigh, “Maybe I could come by, sometime. See the baby.” It’s a blessing and curse how his chest aches when he sees the way her eyes light up.

“I’d love that, Bear.”

“Yo, delivery!” Marcus yells out, pulling the attention of the Berzatto siblings.

“The fuck?” There isn't supposed to be a delivery today.

Natalie gets out of her seat, “Oh thank god.” She ushers Carmy out of the office, pushing past him into the dining room. He follows after her, confused, only to stop in his tracks.

You’re here.

You stand next to Richie, talking animatedly, albeit shy. You’re wearing clothes he doesn’t regularly see you in, the worn denim jacket catching his eye in particular. It’s clear that you aren't working, yet you hold two cups from Nan’s in your hands, a few drink carriers littering a table.

“You’re literally my savior, thank you.” Natalie pulls you into a hug, and you look at Richie with wide eyes. Carmy has to hold back a snort at your expression.

“You should expect this reaction by now, kid.” Richie takes a sip from his drink when you gape at him in exaggerated outrage.

“Shut up, Richie,” Natalie is barely paying attention, saying the words more out of habit. Grabbing a cup from a drink holder, she says, “You’re coming home with me.”

Giggles bubble from your lips, and you go to cover them with the back of your arm. There’s a pull Carmy feels, instinctual, to urge your arm away from your face and hear your genuine laughter fill the room.

Your eyes meet his, finally noticing that he’s there. The smile you give him is earnest, a gentle hello without words. He forces his feet to move, closing the distance. Carmy blatantly ignores the looks both Richie and Natalie are making. You hold out the cup in your hand - the one you weren’t drinking from - and he takes it from you.

Condensation clings to the sides, his name hastily written on the side.

⋆⁺Carmy!⁺˚⋆

There’s a heart in place of the dot at the bottom of the exclamation point, little stars doodled around his name. His stomach flips.

“Iced?” He swirls the drink in hand, mixing it up.

You shrug, “Thought I’d try something different. It’s hot outside.”

“You off?” Bringing the straw to his lips, he hums at the taste. You’re watching him eagerly, head tilted to the side as you wait for his review. “This is nice.”

Squinting at him, you huff, “Not perfect, though.” You type something into your phone — most likely to add to your notebook later. “Had to run some more syrup by the shop. Saw Natalie’s car on the street so I texted her to see if she wanted something to drink. I have errands to run after this.”

“You a regular too now, Cousin?” Richie barks, and Carmy watches as you remember where you are. Who you’re with.

A protectiveness rises up in Carmen, hating the way you recoil into yourself. “Fuck off, Richie.” He looks over at you, “Hungry?”

“Dude, we got shit to do.”

“Richie!” Natalie hisses at the older man, shoving him back toward the kitchen. She calls back to you, “Thanks for the coffee! I promise I’ll come by when I feel more like a human again.”

The customer service clicks into place behind your eyes, “Take care of yourself! Hope the baby is doing well!” Once it's just the two of you, you sigh, knocking the heels of your boots together. “I should get going.”

Carmen nods, “Can I grab you a sandwich, first?”

“Grilled cheese?” You tease, stifling a smile.

He huffs, shaking his head, “Nah, but Ebra’s got window right now. I could throw something together real quick.”

“You don’t have to do that.” He glances down; you’re pressing your thumb into the middle of your hand. It's uncanny, the semblance of himself that is mirrored in you.

“I know.” He wants to, though. “Give me five minutes?”

A moment of hesitation, then, “Okay.”

“Cool.” And he’s off.

Chaos erupts the minute he’s back in the kitchen.

“Since when did the two of you become buddy-buddy?”

“Can we please get back to work? Richie, respectfully, what are you doing back here?” Syd is working on pasta, flour covering her work service.

“I got shoved outta my space, so here I am,” Richie waves his hands around.

The overlapping voices turn into white noise, and Carmy inhales sharply, “Fak!”

“Yes, chef!” Neil appears out of nowhere. Sometimes Carmen thinks there’s a series of underground passages that makes it so easy to get ahold of him. It’s not that crazy of a notion.

“Go and say hello to them, okay? I’m gonna throw together something, give it to them, and then I’ll be right back.” The last part is meant for everyone to hear, but is pointed more toward Richie. “Seriously, just leave it, alright?”

“I’m leaving it,” Richie snarks, but nudges Fak with his elbow. “Think there’s a drink out there with your name on it anyway. Snag me another one of those apple-donut-things too, eh?”

“Fritters!” Marcus calls out from his station.

Carmy sighs deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. He’s queasy; he’ll have to take some pepto later.

Inhale. Four seconds. Exhale.

Let it rip, Bear.

Neil barrels into you, wrapping you in a hug. He talks your ear off for the next couple minutes; you smile when you need to, laugh when you remember.

The yells from the kitchen are playing on repeat in your ears.

They’re talking about you.

The urge to flee tickles the back of your throat. You thought it would be nice to stop by and bring Natalie a coffee, but then you had felt bad about not bringing anything for everyone else, which turned into you jumping behind the bar to make ten drinks. It’s not like you were going to make Morgan, the barista on shift, make them all.

You always had a hard time not working on your days off.

“You should absolutely come!”

“Yeah, that’d be nice.” You reply, still not fully checked back into your conversation with Neil.

He smiles, “Great! I’ll send you the info!”

Before you can ask what you actually agreed to, Carmy pushes back into the room, to-go container in hand. “Hey, uh, Fak, can you go take a look at the toilet for me?” You barely notice Neil leave, focusing more on how your chest releases as Carmen walks closer to you.

He hands you the container, and you murmur a soft, “Thank you.”

“I’ll walk you out, yeah?”

The thought is nice. Glancing behind him, you see Natalie and Richie watching through the window. “It’s okay, you really don’t have to.” You take a step back just as Carmy reaches out to you. You can’t run, they’d see you. Ask questions. They probably see a caged animal.

“Hey,” he whispers your name, “it’s just me.” He’s repeating the words you said to him the night you were here. You tear your eyes away from the kitchen, looking at him. “Lemme walk you out?”

With a nod, you let him guide you out the front door. The warm summer air washes over your skin, and you take in a deep breath. You count the lines in the sidewalk as you pass them, sipping at your iced latte. “It was cool of you to come by,” Carmy says. “And your jacket’s dope.”

He’s trying to make you feel better.

“Did you just say dope?” You peek over in his direction, catching his shrug. “You’re so old.”

“Fuck off,” he laughs, and your smile widens.

You make it to your car, a little thing that has a new problem every other week. It’s been with you for years, moved with you to five different states. More of a sentimental object, than a real mode of transportation. You mostly used CTA these days if you were able, but it was nice to have a car for when you’re running errands all around the city.

“Sorry if they bothered you,” he apologizes, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“No, no, no,” you push out the words, throat tightening, arms hugging your middle. “I thought I was going to try to be a human today. May have jumped the gun on that one.” Fiddling with your keys, you continue, “It was nice to see you. Thought you might be a vampire or something, since I only ever see you at night.”

The joke causes Carmy to roll his eyes, “Is that considered a cryptid?”

You perk up at the word, “Oh, don’t get me started.”

He smiles big enough for his dimple to appear, “Oh, yeah?”

“Unless you want me to talk for hours on end. I’ll make a power-point presentation and everything.” You might already have one in the works, but he didn’t need to know that.

“You could - I mean, it wouldn’t bother me. If you did, you know?”

You blink a few times, frozen in shock. He looks shy, almost. Like the first time you met him, but there’s something between you now. A plant that will keep growing - might even bloom - if the two of you keep watering it. He keeps pecking away at your carefully crafted walls that let people see exactly how much you want them to.

Carmen Berzatto keeps seeing you. Whoever that is.

He coughs, scratching the side of his head. “I’ll see you later?”

“You know where I’ll be.”

“Yeah.”

You walk around to the driver’s side of your car, opening the door. You slide in, turning the key to let your car sputter to life. You roll the windows down, and music starts to blare from your speakers. “Kick ass tonight!” You yell the words as you pull away from the curb. You spare a glance in your rearview, watching Carmy wave before he starts walking back to his restaurant.

When you're parked outside your apartment, it hits you. You dig into your tote bag, pushing aside old receipts, chapstick tubes, and fidget toys. You cheer to yourself as you pull your notebook out, favorite pen hooked over the cover. Flipping to the back, you stare at the list of drinks you've had Carmy try.

You think you want to keep seeing him, too. Whoever that is.

You scribble at the bottom of the page, circling it twice.

Spiced Chai ~ HOT, xtra cinn

[newtkive]

practice - carmen berzatto

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader, mentioned platonic marcus x reader

summary: The sudden changes at your work prove to be a lot to keep up with, but Carmy notices your efforts where you think he’s just a tough boss. He proves to be more than that when he finds you pulling an all-nighter at the restaurant.

wordcount: 3.8k

warnings: none really, anxious reader, ooc!carmen (he would never let mistakes fly like this lmao), kinda fluff at the end

a/n: this is basically how i would react working there bc i almost have an anxiety attack every ep watching carmy yell at everyone. sorry for any typos!

The fast moving pace that Carmen Berzatto brought to The Beef was something extraordinary. The skill of his professional chef background was carried over into the small hole in the wall that otherwise would have never changed if it wasn’t for him.

His drive was contagious, even infecting the staff you knew like the back of your hand. You never would have thought your coworkers, ever comfortable with a stagnant pace, would become accustomed to such change around their second home.

It was great to see your favorite people quickly see their own potential thanks to Carmy’s vision. The only problem was you.

You were falling behind, and quickly.

You tried to convince yourself you could keep up as things changed. But your mind was faster than your barely skilled hands and you were terrible at cutting ingredients evenly during a rush and you always somehow got sliced or burnt and your eyes always stung from the onions you were stuck prepping because that was the one job you couldn’t fuck up but hated— to put it simply, you sucked.

The faces of your coworkers reflected what you feared every time you turned around to take a breath, heels of your hands rubbing tears from your eyes as Carmy screamed profanities at the crew. Tina’s eyes would linger on you, brows raised and silently asking if you were okay. You would nod and blink the tears away before jumping back in. By the end of every shift Ebraheim would pat you on the back before leaving, and Sydney would send you a small, sympathetic smile and wave while you tied your shoes on the bench near the locker.

Each time you could see the sympathy in their eyes and it made you hate yourself even more.

You were used to sandwiches; assembling simple ingredients between a hoagie bun on a slow Sunday surrounded by the people you called family. Cracking jokes here and there, no pressure to make things completely perfect, which ended up making things perfect. So much so that regulars even seemed disappointed to see you up at the register some days instead of in the kitchen assembling their lunch.

Carmy wasn’t blind, he could see exactly what was going on, which was why he didn’t pick on you as much as he did when he first arrived.

The first couples of weeks that Carmy was there he noticed the difference in your station compared to everyone else’s. Organized, cohesive, clean—save for the multiple drinks you always had. You worked at your own pace, not slow but definitely not up to par with Carmen’s standards. You made it work though, cutting ingredients almost perfectly and whipping up sandwiches and other specialties not a second too late.

The change happened when Carmy upped the stakes and encouraged—or yelled at—everyone to be as quick as they possibly could. His yelling was off putting, and you didn’t respond well to much other than positive reinforcement.

The chef didn’t notice until the uneven bread and too-thin tomato slices lead back to you. He was quick, marching over to you with a purpose; if it was a cartoon, his hair would be alight with fire. “Chef!” His voice was hard and urgent, because he didn’t have time to deal with this.

As he approached, he noticed your hands shaking as you held the dull shitty knife, head whipping up and cheeks red, all but heaving from the pressure. So much pressure.

“Yes Chef?” You asked attentively, waiting for him to explode.

Carmen had all intentions to do just that, tear you a new one, tell you that you’ve been here long enough to know how to cut a fuckin’ tomato the right way but he paused. The look in your eye was wild and scared. His face fell, obvious turmoil behind his blue eyes causing a change in his decision. You waited with bated breath, but what you were expecting never came.

Instead, Carmen did his best to be calm and set his hand on the counter, leaning a bit. “I want you to show me how to slice that tomato.” He said.

“What?” You were confused and it was clearly written on your face. So were your nosy coworkers who exchanged looks and shrugged, expecting the young man to wail on you with his words.

Looking over your shoulder at the others, you tried to exchange weary looks with anyone but Carmy pulled you back in with his words. “Don’t worry about their shit. C’mon, show me.” He said again, motioning to the tomato sitting on the cutting board, looking at you expectantly.

After a beat of weariness you did what he asked. With an exhale your knife pierced the red skin and cut it, your wrist dragging it back and forth to cut all the way through. You gave a few more slices, doing your best to ignore his scrutinizing gaze.

Reviewing your slices, you mentally pat yourself on the back at the sight of them perfectly even and a fairly thin. You turned to look at Carmy, and he seemed to have an epiphany as he stood there holding his chin. Eyes flickering up to you, he nodded. “You know what that showed me?” He asked, and before you could answer he continued. “You’re competent, you did that shit with a dull knife. Don’t cut ‘em too thick or too thin, you have no excuses.”

He should feel ridiculous, like he was coaching a baby how to do the easiest job in the world, but for some reason Carmen was able to swallow his irritation and try to guide you.

You nodded, back straightening and hands sweaty. “Yes, Chef.”

Carmy was about to walk off but stopped himself, turning back around, eyes boring into yours as he grew more serious. “You hear me yelling, you listen, but I need you to focus, Chef. You can do this shit, I’ve seen you pull through before. Don’t let my mouth get to your fuckin’ head.” He said low enough just for the both of you to hear.

He was close, blue eyes staring right at you, the smell of the kitchen clinging onto his apron. It should’ve been intimidating, and it was a little, but you knew this was his version of offering comfort and maybe even some sort of apology.

“Heard, Chef.” You said just as quietly back.

There was a second of him staring, before he simply walked away without another word, leaving you to your own devices. Whatever he said seemed to put some perspective into your work, because you didn’t have anys setbacks for the rest of the day.

On the way home, sitting on the train with headphones in your ears and a jacket wrapping you up tight, Carmy’s words swirled in your head. You knew you could do this, and you could somewhat see in Carmy’s eyes that he had faith in you too. It was just a new world you were all suddenly thrown into and it was hard finding your place. On days where you felt like a baby fawn standing on shaky legs, wobbling and failing to find your footing, you had to keep going.

A single word rang in your mind.

Practice.

Your apartment was pretty small and shared with a roommate, so you lacked the accommodations and tools to really do all you wanted. Aside from that, you didn’t want to be the rude roomie who clashed pans in the kitchen all night long. So, as you made your way off the train you didn’t leave the station. Instead, you waited for the next ride to the city and headed straight for The Beef.

The sun set as you approached the back door, humming a tune as you pulled out a spare key—one that definitley would be confiscated once Carmy found out about it, probably clambering about it not being safe in the foreseeable future—from under the fuse box outside and unlocked the door.

You entered the kitchen, brows immediately raising as you saw all of the kitchen lights on. Slowly moving forward, a sense of anxiety grew as you knew no one would usually be here except for Carmy, and you really did not want to get a talking to from him right now.

Turning the corner, you sighed in relief when you saw the familiar stature that belong to Marcus. He had his phone out, recipe pulled up in front of him and a song playing softly from the speakers that he sang along to. You chuckled softly, alerting him of your presence. Head snapping up at the sound, he almost looked like a deer in the headlights as he met your eyes.

Similarly to you, he let out a relieved sigh and sent you a smile. “Scared me, Y/N.” He laughed softly, hands whisking again.

“Sorry.” You apologized, tugging your coat off. “What’re you doing here, man?” You asked as you headed over to the lockers and shoved your stuff away.

Marcus shrugged. “Could ask you the same thing.”

“Practice.” You said simply, shrugging and tying your apron around your waist. Approaching the kitchen, you started gathering a few clean pots to start your work.

Humming and nodding, Marcus gave you a knowing grin. “Same here.” There was a beat of comfortable silence as you gathered a knife, cutting board, and an onion before washing your hands. “I actually stay here sometimes overnight. It’s easier, that way I won’t waste time going back and forth from home.” Marcus explained.

Surprise filled your features and you sent him an impressed look. “Wow, no wonder you’re getting better fast.”

He chuckles bashfully, filling another mixing bowl with flour and whatever else he desired. “Eh, I guess.” The shrug of his shoulders made you laugh before you turned back to your own work.

With one last question of Marcus asking if you minded his music, and you affirming that you didn’t mind at all, he turned the dial on his bluetooth radio up and you both fell into a comfortable rhythm; Marcus in his corner and you on the stovetop.

By the end of the evening you prepared a vibrant beef braciole dish that a few of the others had been practicing since Carmy introduced it. You brought it to one of the stainless steel counters with two forks, setting it next to the two pieces of cake Marcus had sliced up from his recipe of the evening.

You both dug in, humming in satisfaction as you tasted each other’s creations, sharing impressed and ‘holy shit’ expressions that made the other laugh.

“This is fantastic.” Marcus said, another mouthful of beef being added to his mouth.

You laughed and shook your head, muttering a thank you, trying to swallow down your surprise. Marcus could tell, because he doubled down. “No, really, Y/N. This is the best one I’ve tasted yet, aside from the big Chef.” He said with a grin.

Shaking your head, you gave him your appreciation. “Thank you, Chef. I can say the same thing from you.” You motioned with your fork to the cake. In truth, his words pushed you and affected you more than you lead on.

The both of you fell into a rhythm, whipping up treats and savory meals almost every day after work. Marcus playing music at his own station, you timing yourself relentlessly to try and replicate the fast pace of the open hours of the restaurant. You sometimes even found yourself staying overnight, taking turns with Marcus to use his sleeping bag—he insisted where you didn't want to overstep, but sleep called you and his pillow was comfy.

Relentless practice proved to keep you on track and up to pace with everyone else, slowly but surely. The impressed glances shared between Tina and Sydney every time you had them taste a dish or were quicker than usual were enough, but Carmen was ever the critic. A new menu soon graced The Beef alongside their regular sandwiches, and it was a tough menu to master. You almost had them all down pat, practicing relentlessly for almost four weeks now after work.

However, every time you presented a steaming spoonful of stew, or a perfect bite of chicken piccata that everyone else in the kitchen seemed to love, Carmen would bite into it, hum, and shake his head. "Good." He said every time.

"Good like.. good good? Or good but start over, it's trash, throw it away?" You would ask, clearly waiting with baited breath on a slow day.

Carmy shook his head again. "It's not ready yet, Chef." And then he would be off to collect more expo receipts and leave you there disappointed, shoulders deflating in defeat.

"I think it's great, Chef." Marcus would smile, hands busy working on dough for his unmastered donuts. You would offer a sad smile in return, marching off to assemble another hoagie and handing your failed dish to a waiting Richie in exchange for an appreciative rub of his hands together. The negative feedback only spurred you to improve your craft as much as you could.

It was a rare occasion that Marcus didn't stay at the restaurant overnight. He left early in a frenzy after a phone call, muttering something about his mom's nurse needing him. Offering comfort wasn't your strongest suit, so you bid him luck and made a mental note to bring him his favorite coffee during work later in hopes to cheer him up.

At the same time you were plating what felt like your dozenth chicken piccata of the week, soft footsteps approached the kitchen. As soon as the timer went off behind you, you whipped around and hit the top, a harsh exhale and wipe of your forehead following the silence. You felt proud, plating and finishing your dish in record time without any hiccups.

A soft chuckle brought you out of your stupor, head snapping up to meet bright blue eyes from across the kitchen. There stood Carmy with his unruly curls, white tee and brown jacket he was beginning to pull off. In place of his usual stoic face was an amused expression, clearly not expecting to see someone in the kitchen at this hour.

You froze at the sight of him, but his soft smile eased your shoulders a bit. “Smells good.” Carmy said as if it was the most casual thing, hanging his jacket by the lapels on a hook. He sat on the bench, beginning to change his shoes into nonslip ones.

Stuttering, your cheeks turned pink. “O-oh, uhhh, thanks.”

“You’re here early.” He said back, standing now and readying to tug on his apron.

Brows furrowed, you looked above him to glance at the kitchen clock. Big red numbers read 6:15 AM and your brows raised in shock. Before you had a chance to respond, he walked closer, beginning to talk again. “I’ve noticed you and Marcus are always here before anyone else.”

You shrugged, nervous smile gracing your lips as they upturned slightly. “Ah, yeah. We both wanted to practice. Y’know, catch up with everyone else.” You explained. Conveniently, you decided to not mention the instances of spending the night, figuring it would be a little to embarrassing or earn you a talking to.

Carmy was now approaching the other side of the counter where you stood, hands tapping the steel. His little smug smile didn’t leave his lips as he nodded. “I also noticed a few things missing from our inventory.” His words were clearly teasing, but they made your face run pale.

“Fuck, I'm sorry, Chef. Take it from my paycheck, please—I didn’t even consider—“ The rambling was embarrassing, and his head shake cut you off.

“No, stop, Y/N. I'm teasing you.” Carmy laughed softly with a small smile, clearly endeared. The use of your name made you bashful.

A beat of silence followed, your mouth opening and closing like a fish. Carmy glanced behind you at the dish that laid perfectly plated, motioning to it with his hands. “Let’s see if your hard work is paying off.”

Blinking in surprise, you obediently nodded and turned to grab the dish. Sliding it in front of him, you gathered a fork and knife. Carmy grasped the utensils with a ‘thank you’, fingers brushing yours. It didn’t take long for the chef to dig in, eyes immediately closing once the first bite hit his taste buds.

“So.. what do you think?” You plucked up the courage to ask after he swallowed.

Carmy looked up at you, lips curling upwards and a proud look dawning his features. “Great, as usual.”

Usually those words would make you excited, but Carmy had a habit of complimenting your dishes before declaring how they weren’t good enough just yet. You simply nodded, swallowing thickly as he took another bite and savored the taste. “What should I change?” You asked, straightening your back in preparation for the inevitable criticism.

Humming, Carmy shook his head, the same amused look as before coming back. “Nothing, Chef. It’s perfect.” He said firmly. Those words made your breath leave your lungs, hands becoming clammy, and before you knew it you were grinning.

“Really?” You asked, not able to keep your excitement together.

Carmy let out a full laugh at that. “Really.” He confirmed.

You clapped your hands together before covering your face, hiding the grin as best you could. It had been awhile since you felt so elated due to cooking, and you weren’t quite sure what to do with yourself. You felt like the whole month of dedicating your time to cooking was culminating to this moment. Carmen watched you with soft eyes, taking in how happy his words made you. You turned back to him, giving up hiding how ecstatic you were. “I braised it differently this time, could you tell? Well, obviously you could if it’s good this time.” You rambled on, a bit of a giggle in your voice.

“It’s always this good, Y/N.” Carmy suddenly said. His words had you pausing, tilting your head playfully. Hand trailing along the counter, he rounded it to stand next to you.

"What do you mean?" You asked, smile falling a bit. The man's words echoed in your head and you looked around the room as if to try and find meaning from his statement. Surely he didn't have you remake the dish for no reason, right? But Carmy's strong posture and raised brows, waiting for you to figure it out yourself, made you think that's exactly what he did. Sobering up, you scoffed and crossed your arms as you sent him a look. "Are you serious? This whole time..." You trailed off.

"Yes, this whole time." He said, leaning on the counter with one hand, eyes not leaving you. "I needed you to bust your ass, Chef. I knew you needed the practice, so I gave you the motive." Carmy explained. The scrunch of your nose made his chest hum with something warm, akin to looking at a kicked puppy that he wanted to scoop up and reassure. Guilt washed over him a little bit as he feared he was acting more and more like his old Chef, but he pushed those feelings down as best he could. He did this for the right reasons, unlike that dickhead in New York did to him. There was no berating and preying on insecurities, just some tough love.

Sighing, you were torn between being angry and feeling grateful that Carmy saw this potential in you. You didn't know what to say, so you blurted out exactly how you felt. "I'm embarrassed."

Carmy frowned, ducking his head to catch your eyes where you looked down a bit. "Why are you embarrassed?" His voice was soft, tiptoeing as to not make you more upset.

Allowing him to meet your eyes, you curled into yourself at the attention. "Because I've made a fool of myself these past few months." You murmured, spilling your guts to your new boss for some reason that you didn't know. Maybe it was the quiet kitchen, or the sudden defeat you felt, but your mouth was faster than your mind.

A small 'no, no, no' left Carmy and he shook his head, reaching a hand out to place on your shoulder. "Don't be. I came in and turned shit upside down, it just took you a bit more practice to get the hang of things." His hand started to rub your arm comfortingly, leaving heat where he touched. You knew this must have been a form of an apology in his own way. The words didn't come easy to Carmen, but he tried to convey it the best he could.

Leaning forward, Carmy mustered his best stern expression, wanting to keep your gaze so you couldn't look away and distract yourself from his next words. Your breath caught in your throat, not used to this proximity. "I'm proud of you. You should be proud of yourself too."

Heat encapsulated your cheeks and you nodded, spurring him to nod as well. "Okay."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

As soon as Carmy saw your shy smile he gave one right back to you. Still close, he radiated heat that made it all the more difficult to calm the butterflies growing in your stomach. Eyes never leaving each other's, the air grew tense as the dust settled. Unlike the usual sandwich smell, an aroma of a clean linen scent came off of him as you realized he must have showered before coming here. Carmy never would admit it, but your perfume filled the air for him, making him linger longer than he should have. The blink of your stare looking up at him made Carmy's chest tighten, and he immediately pulled himself out of whatever trance he was in.

Clearing his throat, Carmy let go of your shoulder and backed up a bit. "No more all-nighter's here. Okay, Chef?" He tried to seem playful to rid himself of awkwardness and whatever that just was.

Mouth falling open, you gaped at him. "How did you know?!"

Hands up in surrender, Carmy just shrugged. "A Chef never tells his secrets," He began, heading over to the drying rack to busy himself, playfully adding, "And someone kept leaving the spare key out, so I figured." The smirk he sent you made you grin and roll your eyes.

Carmy would never tell you he knew because that's what he used to do. Before he got the hang of things in his earlier days as a chef, late nights in the restaurant kitchen and a half hour of sleep was the norm for him. As you began cleaning up your work the chef's gaze lingered on you, blue eyes studying your form with a thoughtful look. Carmy shook his head, smiling to himself and starting his work. He reckoned he saw himself in you more than ever.

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

hi baby!! dont worry!! it was about reader getting so stressed and annoyed while building a gingerbread house that they throw it in the garbage because its going all wrong and carmy finds it hilarious lol then he builds one for her hehe<3 love u

Perfectionist.

Your boyfriend being a professional chef has its perks - especially when it comes to gingerbread houses.

pairing - carmen berzatto x female reader warnings - cursing word count - under 1k!! short and sweet author's note - just a little dose of carmy at christmas for you. thanks baby angel for sending this request in (twice!!) <3

masterlist. inbox.

"Fuck this."

Carmy hears your raised voice and immediately comes running, coming to a halt in the doorway of the kitchen.

"You good, baby?"

"No."

The frown on your face is amusing him to no end, fighting to keep his smile from breaking out. He doesn't want to minimise your feelings, but you're cutest when you're mad.

Carmy takes in the scene in front of him, surveying carefully. There's chunks of gingerbread scattered across the table, icing dripping from the tablecloth. Your kitchen looks like a candy store exploded - sweets in red, green and blue littered over every surface. You're caked in frosting, hair falling into your eyes as you take deep breaths to try to keep your anger at bay.

"I knew this wouldn't be easy, but fuck me, Carmy... I'm on the brink of a breakdown here."

He makes his way over, grinning like an idiot. It's not often he gets to help you with things - you're fiercely independent, determined to get stuff done all by yourself. He likes teaching you, getting to feel like he's easing your worries a little.

"You want my help?"

"I said I'd do it," you huff, on the verge of stamping your feet and pushing the table over.

"It won't kill you to ask for what you need, baby."

You roll your eyes, bottom lip caught between your teeth. It's difficult for you to admit defeat, but you might rip your hair out if your gingerbread collapses one more time.

"Can you help me, Carm?" you whisper.

"What was that, honey? Say it again?"

You sigh in exasperation, slumping back into your chair.

"Can you help me, Carmen? Please?"

He beams at you like the cat that got the cream, making his way over to sit next to you at the table.

"Lets start again, hmm?"

"Good idea."

You pick up the remnants of your gingerbread house and throw them so forcefully, the trash can almost tips over. Carmy laughs, wrapping his arms around you from behind.

"I think we've finally found the one thing you're not good at, honey. It's a Christmas miracle."

You can't help but chuckle, leaning your head back to rest against his shoulder. He presses a kiss or four into your neck, nosing at the spot under your ear.

"Okay, Mr Michelin Star. Show me what you got."

You bake, first, Carmy explaining how to get the perfect texture you need for structural soundness. He even gets out a ruler, measuring the rolled out dough so the sides will be even.

He kisses you lazily while your gingerbread is in the oven. You're propped up on the counter as he stands between your legs, arms thrown around his shoulders. He tastes like cinnamon and spice, groaning when you lick the sugar straight from his tongue.

When it's cooled, you begin your assembly, sitting back while Carmy trims and remeasures. He draws out a template with a pencil and cuts accordingly, ensuring each piece has a straight edge. You watch in awe as he works, so careful, so attentive. You're fighting not to jump his bones at any given moment.

It's time to build, and Carmy has the perfect plan. He's made a thickened sugar syrup that acts as a glue, hardening when it dries and keeping everything together. His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he concentrates, determined not to mess this up for you.

He steps back, then, to let you decorate. You clearly have a vision, your picturesque idea of what you wanted your original creation to look like. Carmy makes you multiple bags of icing in different colours, and melts down candies so you can make windows and doors. He opens packets of chocolates, and carves into them with a knife to make little trees for the yard.

Hours later, when you're both covered in powdered sugar and melted chocolate, you step back to admire your masterpiece.

"Holy shit, Carm."

"We did good, huh?"

"Is there like, a business in this? Can we do this for a living?"

He laughs, the sound vibrating through you from where his chest his pressed to your back. He's got you tightly in his arms, swaying gently to the soft music that plays from the radio.

"What were you saying about finding the one thing I wasn't good at, Berzatto? Hmm?"

He spins you, pressing his forehead into yours.

"I take it back. I take it all back, baby. You're good at everything."

"Especially gingerbread houses."

"Especially gingerbread houses."

You lean up to kiss him, wiping some frosting off his cheek with your thumb.

"Thanks for not making me feel like an idiot."

"I would never. Life is a learning curve, baby, You taught me that."

"I love you," you whisper. "And just so you know, we're never eating that. It's going to have to be display only."

He laughs, full chested and whole hearted, moving his hands to cradle your face.

"I love you too, baker extraordinaire. We don't need to eat it, anyway. We've got all this candy to get through."

You reach behind him to pick up a chocolate, tossing it into your mouth.

"It isn't as sweet as you," you wink.

A blush rises up his cheeks as he rolls his eyes, pulling you in closer.

"Merry Christmas, baby."

"Merry Christmas, Carmen."

[carmenberzattosgf]

I just feel like carmy would get hard again so fast if your mascara was running after he fucked you real hard and good in a position where he can’t see your face yk? Like you both finish and you turn onto your back and at first he’s like are you okay??? And then when you say you are he’s already prepared to go again

Carmen bents you over the counter of his kitchen almost as soon as he makes it home. He needed you too bad to make it to the bedroom first. Work today was hell for him. Absolute hell. The idea of fucking your brains out when he got home was the only thing keeping him from blowing up on the entire staff.

One of his hands grips your hip with bruising force, while the other rests on the middle of your back, holding you down.

He’s not going easy on you. Carmy pounds into you roughly, bottoming out with every stroke. The force behind his pace jolts you forward. You take it, though, voice growing desperate and whiney. Your cheek rests against the cool counter top, and it’s the only part of you that isn’t burning up. Soft whimpers leave your throat in sync with his thrusts.

Carmy’s barely saying anything, but he’s groaning loudly with no shame. The words he manages to get out are short phrases.

“Good girl”

“Perfect pussy—shit”

“Tight—so fucking tight. Needed this.”

“I gotcha—just a little more”

The “little more” is nearly ten minutes later. He fucks you through two orgasms before he spills into you. You’re so dazed when he turns you back around that you don’t pick up on the look of worry on his face. “T-thank you, Carm,” you say with a broken voice. He just fucked your brains out, all you can think to do is thank him.

“A-are you okay? Did I hurt you?” Carmy asks in a panic. “Shit—I’m sorry, baby. Don’t know what got into me I—“ he begins to ramble before you cut him off.

“What-what are you talking about?” He’s going to have to spell it out for you because you can’t figure out why he would ask if something was wrong. He just made you cum twice. Youre perfectly fine. Great, even.

“You have mascara running down your cheeks. I-I made you cry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

Your giggle breaks the tension in the air. “Carm—I cried because it felt so good.”

“W-what?”

“You were, fuck, so deep, Bear. Could feel you in my stomach. It felt so good it made me cry.”

“Oh.”

It was light the switch went off in his head again as you felt him harden against your thigh.

“Carmy…” Before you can finished your thought, he’s picking you up, carrying you to his bedroom, and throwing you down on the bed.

“Gonna make you cry again. Wanna see it run down your face with my own eyes this time.”

[love-quinn]

— REPAYMENTS

summary — carmen accidentally loses his chance with you after you all-but ask him out. luckily for him, you're sitting two tables away from the kitchen he runs.

warnings — swearing, smoking, i think that's it?

pairing — carmen berzatto x fem!reader

pronouns — she/her, reader is explicitly mentioned to be a girl

word count — 2.2k

note — i am still finding my footing writing for carmen so this has just been trial and error, i hope you enjoy this!!! thank you for 100 followers, i appreciate it so much omg <333

It's fairly well-agreed upon that family and business should never be mixed. Whoever said that had probably never met Natalie Berzatto. His sister infuriates him, but if Carmen is being honest that’s usually because she’s just there. She doesn’t pick fights, but she will call him out on his bullshit, even if he doesn’t appreciate it in the moment. Out of all of his relatives to be closely working with, Sugar was probably his best option.

No, it was far more likely that the coiner of that phrase did meet Richie.

Carmen loved Richie deep down. He would do a lot for Richie, and he’s seen firsthand that Richie would do a lot for him. But it’s really hard to remember that when Carmen’s having to leave the kitchen to go and talk to a table because something’s gone wrong.

“‘I’ll handle it,’” he mocks Richie under his breath. “‘Calm the fuck down, Carmen, I’m Richie and I’ll handle it even though I’m fucking incompetent.’” He abandons his station to go out into the dining room, already feeling a headache brewing behind his eyes. “Handle it, my ass.”

It’s a fairly simple problem to sort out, just an old man who was bound to complain about something wanting to talk to the owner about it. Carmen smiles and nods and apologizes and makes a note to comp that part of the meal and go chain smoke about it later. 

It’s not the interaction that causes Carmen’s chest to constrict, it’s what he sees on the way in. 

Usually, Carmen is safely in the back. He stays in his section, he spends each night being hyper aware of everything that goes on in the kitchen, and he doesn’t have to worry about anything outside of the kitchen (it took a second for that last part to be true, but he does trust Richie and Natalie enough to handle things out in the dining room. 

But of course he happens to be out in the dining room on the same night that you’re there.

He almost didn’t recognise you, the room isn’t very well-lit and he only met you once. It was about two weeks ago, but he’s thought about it quite a lot since. It had been two in the morning and he didn’t even remember what he’d needed but he’d ended up at the 24-hour convenience store down the street from his place. 

The fluorescent lights had been flickering and you had been standing right in front of the refrigerator he needed. You had been browsing the fucking chips or something and Carmen was too busy controlling the tapping of his foot so you wouldn’t hear it.

“Sorry, am I in your way?”

His head snapped up, eyes locking with yours. “Yeah.”

You tried not to frown at his bluntness, just raising your eyebrows and moving out of the way. Carmen yanked open the fridge door, rubbing his face to stop his eyes from drooping closed. He’d just left the restaurant and just wanted milk before he went home. His hand dropped and he opened his eyes to look for the milk only to find the slider-shelf thing that contained his usual stuff was completely empty. “Fuck.”

You were a few feet away, still making your way down the aisle, but you glanced at him out of the corner of your eye. The last bottle of yellow-capped milk is currently sitting in the basket dangling from your elbow. You finished up and decided to just make your way to the front, cutting your losses about getting more snacks.

You’re not usually up at 2am, but one of your friends was stopping by in the city for a few days and the two of you had gotten home from a late movie still wanting to spend time together so you’d ducked down to the store for some more snacks. 

You had put a few of your items on the counter for the store clerk to scan by the time he got to the front, and you pretend not to notice him. The clerk looked so exhausted you didn’t even try to make small talk, just flashing him a soft smile while he put your stuff in a plastic bag. While you were paying, the clerk turned his head to the guy behind you to see what he wanted. 

It was the guy from the fridge and he mumbled something about cigarettes. The clerk handed you back your card and your receipt before turning back to the cabinet for the cigarettes.

Carmen didn’t even care they didn’t have the usual type he liked, he just needed a smoke soon or his chest would cave in. He slapped the bills on the counter, grabbed the pack and was out the door before you had turned around. 

He smoked almost directly outside the door to the store, and you had to walk past him to get back to your building. Usually, when guys were dicks out in public to you, you’d ignore it and you’d move on. But this guy looked so defeated that you almost felt bad for him. 

He was sitting on the sidewalk, head buried between his knees. You tried not to make it obvious that you were looking at him but he looked so sad that you felt a begrudging amount of empathy for him. You dug the bottle of milk out of your bag and put it on the sidewalk next to him.

Carmen’s head shot up at the sound, looking back and forth between you and the bottle. “What?”

“You look like you need it more than I do.” If you were being honest, it did make you feel a little smug that he was slightly rude to you earlier and now you were being nice to him, but it was mostly out of concern.

Carmen’s mouth was dry, and he swiped his tongue over his bottom lip, hauling himself to his feet with the bottle in hand. “No, you don’t have to do that. Take your milk.”

“I don’t even want it,” you said. “Seriously, dude.”

Carmen looked down at the bottle of milk in his hand. “Now I feel bad for being an ass.”

You nodded. “You should.”

Carmen gave a tired laugh and you finally noticed how bright his blue eyes were, even in the dark street. “I’m usually not. An asshole, I mean. Well, no, actually. I… am making this worse.”

You watched him, amused, and Carmen felt his throat constrict at the sound of your laugh. “Way to sell yourself. You’re really making a meal out of this, aren’t you?”

“It’s what I do best,” he said absentmindedly. “I’m, uh, Carmen.” He tried to shake your hand but with the cigarette in one and the milk in the other, he couldn’t find a way to do it. Then he had the thought that nobody shakes hands anymore, and felt stupid for the whole thing. 

You weren’t in the habit of giving your name to strangers, especially not men you met outside the convenience store at two in the morning. “Just Carmen?”

Carmen hadn’t expected that to be your response, and he blacked out for a half second where he forgot his own last name, “Berzatto.” 

“Carmen Berzatto.” You nodded, knowing to give the name to your friend later, just for safety. You told him your own name, not bothering to shake his hand. 

You dug around in your purse quickly, grabbing your receipt and hoping you had a pen. You didn’t but you did find an old eyeliner in the bottom that would work. Carmen had taken a stance of leaning against the wall, smoking his cigarette and trying not to fall asleep standing up. If he was honest, he assumed you’d walk away after that, so he was surprised when he felt you press a piece of paper into his hand. “Your receipt. For the milk” Your smile was sweet and he didn’t even process that you’d scrawled your phone number on the back until you’d walked away.

That had been two weeks ago, and he hadn’t seen you since.

He bursts back through the kitchen. You’re sitting at table nine with two other women, and his number one priority is finding Richie. Or Natalie, someone who works out in the dining room and can do what he needs them to. 

Richie, as if he heard Carmen’s mental plea, is right behind him. “I need two more mushroom risotto for table fifteen and for table nine-”

“Cousin,” Carmen interrupts. “The, uh, table nine. They’re not gonna pay.”

Richie took that the wrong way, leaning down to talk right in Carmen’s ear conspiratorially. “They’re dashers? You want me to take ‘em down? I’ll go out there and fuck them up, you give me two seconds and twenty dollars and I’ll-”

“Richie!” Carmen shoved him. “No, they’re…” He’s been so pissed off with Richie lately, more so than usual. He’d gone back to the restaurant the day after meeting you, dumping his jacket in his office, receipt on the desk with every intention to at least text you during his break.

And then Richie had spit his gum into the receipt and thrown it out. 

“Listen. One of the girls, she’s… They’re just eating for free, okay?” Carmen lets himself sound desperate, maybe that will stop Richie from making fun of him.

Richie looks down at him, eyebrows raised. “You… alright, yeah. Good. Don’t make your girl pay. Good. Does she know you run this place?” 

Carmen shakes his head. “No, I kinda messed things up with her. I need everything to go good tonight, okay? Can you do that for me?”

Richie saluted. “You got it, cousin. Food’ll be good she’ll forget what a massive prick you are.”

That’s probably the best he’s gonna get, so he takes it. Then, he gets to work. He gets your order from Richie and the kitchen makes it in record time. Then, when it’s done, Carmen makes sure he’s the one to run the food.

You didn’t know what you’d been expecting when your friends had invited you out to a new restaurant, but it hadn’t been to see the guy you’d met at a convenience store in the middle of the night to be presenting you with your meal.

You’d liked Carmen, but it had been a while and you only met him for a few minutes. Once the sting of rejection had worn off, you’d almost forgotten about the encounter. He puts your dinner in front of you and practically bows. “Carmen,” you muse, mostly just taken aback. “I didn’t know you worked here.”

“I’m the owner,” he says, trying to ignore the way your friends are looking at him. “I saw you and I… I’m not really good at this shit, but I, uh. I meant to call you.” He sounds earnest, and he looks somewhat embarrassed by the amount of eyes on him. “I wanted to, I just lost your number and I didn’t know how else to talk to you but I wanted to call you.”

You watch Carmen as he speaks and the longer you’re silent, the worse he feels about it. He can’t read the expression on your face and he’s really regretting insisting that he walked your meals, he should’ve just sent Richie. But he also knew that it would seem more genuine if he did it in person. 

“So far you’re oh-for-two in terms of not looking like an asshole,” your tone is light and a bright smile is worming its way onto your face. Your lipgloss shines under the light and Carmen can’t stop looking at it. 

Carmen swallows, wiping his hands as inconspicuously on his pants. “Would it make it better if I told you that I already got your meals comped?”

“I mean,” you say, tilting your head up at him. “Yeah, that’ll do it, yeah.”

“I owe it to you,” he points out. “For the milk. Let me just go grab your receipt, enjoy your meals.” He flashes an awkward smile over at the two women you’re with, not noticing the way you’re looking up at him.

He walks away and your eyes follow him back into the kitchen. You had just assumed he didn’t really like you, so the idea that maybe he liked you so much he was willing to give you complimentary meals slightly overwhelmed you. Your friends swarm you the second he’s gone and you relay your very limited history with Carmen.

You almost forgot what it feels like to be in the earliest stages of romance. Slightly awkward flirting, fleeting glances, the butterflies in your stomach when you realize that the other person likes you just as much as you like them.

You don’t know much about Carmen aside from the fact that he’s apparently an insomniac who owns and runs a restaurant, has really pretty eyes and likes you. That was the part that got you. He likes you enough to come out and talk to you.

In fact, he likes you so much that once he goes back in the kitchen he dodges Richie’s attempts at a high five, and prints out your now-free bill. He likes you so much that he digs through his desk for the only working pen to scribble something on the bottom where the tip number would usually be. And, something that makes you positively giddy, he likes you so much that when he hands you the check with his number printed towards the bottom.

[fixyourwritinghabits]

No Such Thing As Filler

Okay, so yes, this is another post based on something I saw that irritated me, but it seems like this idea keeps coming up, so I need y'all to internalize this. There is no such thing as filler in good writing. None. Do not approach your work thinking you have to fill space in a story, I will beat you with this wiffle bat. Don't ask me where I got the wiffle bat. Don't even worry about it.

The idea of filler comes from a very particular place - when an anime or TV show has to fit in a certain number of episodes, but doesn't have enough content (hasn't caught up with the manga, the source material isn't long enough, etc) to cover those episodes. An episode has to be written, but the characters can't really progress, and so are given something else to do. Many a trope has come from these episodes, and they're sometimes necessary. Filler in this context is something that makes sense.

The dark side of filler is the idea that you need some space between Big Event 1 and Big Event 2 in your story, therefore you need throw anything in there to take up space and make your word count. This is a mistake I've made and I've seen plenty of other writers do it too, but it's a huge waste of your time. You do need something between those big action scenes, but you should always be writing to accomplish something.

Instead of thinking of that writing as filler, try to approach it with three things in mind:

Move Forward With Character Development and Backstory - Your characters barely survived a huge gunfight, and they won't encounter the big bad again for another few chapters. How do your characters decompress from that gunfight, and what does that say about them? Did a cocky character go in guns blazing, only to be deeply shaken by how a real fight works? Did that fight spark a moment of deep trauma for the main character that they have to reflect on afterwards?

Filling this space with meaningless scenes is a huge waste of opportunity. Think about how to dive deeper into your characters.

Move Forward With Plot and Subplot Development - The bad guy beat the heroes to the stolen gem, but they left behind a clue to why they want it. However that clue could reveal some painful truths about the protagonist's beloved great aunt... Carmen Sandiego???

A major goal following a big action scene is having the characters figure out what to do with what they've learned and what to do next. It's where romance subplots or secret relative subplots make progress, when truths are revealed and next steps are taken. You can absolutely do this in any setting - a flirty conversation while at the battling cages, a tense moment of feelings while hunting down a wayward chicken - but your main goal is making progress for both the characters and plot.

Move Forward With Worldbuilding - Worldbuilding has it challenges, believe me. You don't want to write a chapter on how an airship works only to have to cut it later. But you should still try to flesh out your world, and you should do so with the perspective of how to use that worldbuilding to your benefit. Maybe a critical scene hinges on the main characters knowing how that airship works, or that lake your main character often stares at is the setting of the big Act 3 Boat Battle. The weather can play into both perspective and emotions. Knowing what the main character's house and car looks like can reflect a lot on their personal character or backstory.

When you're struggling with a scene or a chapter, rather than writing filler, take a few steps back and think. What can you establish with your worldbuilding? What can you reveal about your characters through their dialogue and actions? What subplot could you explore or add in these between moments?

Filler from a fandom perspective - Now let me make this clear - if you're writing a fanfic just to have a cute moment between the characters you like, or you really want to force everyone to do that weird Twilight baseball scene, that's fine. You don't need a grand goal to achieve for every story, there's no need to justify your fanwork in any way other than you wanted to do it.

But I'd also argue fanwork doesn't fall under the filler label either - something you create, be it a character snapshot or a 'what if the gang meets Slenderman' parody, isn't taking up meaningless space. It's something fun you did that you and others enjoy, and there's nothing wasteful or pointless about that.

[papaya-twinks]

Can I request a fic about mean/bully Lando x sunshine reader. And one they there is this party or ceremony(something big) and she dresses up all pretty pink and Lando sees her and just amazed at how cute she is. But says something mean and hurtfull thinking she will brush it off but she takes ot seriously and cries? You can put smut in it if you want

Warnings; Smut, 18+, mean!lando

Pairing: mean!lando!norris x fem!reader

You’d been invited to a part with some of your friends and you were more than happy to attend. Alex had chosen a dress for you, pink, with your favourite pair of matching heels. She’d styled your hair into soft ringlets at the back of your head, and you looked pretty, and always. “I swear if I wasn’t with Charles, I’d date you,” she groaned, standing back to admire you as you flushed.

“Shut up, you,” you groaned, covering your face as she jumped up and down, her matching blue dress hugging her body. She’d chosen the colour the match her boyfriend’s race suit in Miami, and pink for you, because you looked good in it. Well, you looked good in everything, but this was your favourite colour too. “Oh my god!” she gasped, seeing her boyfriend in the large party hall.

The lights were turned low so you could barely see, except a few lights here and there to help you. It was light enough to see and make out familiar faces, such as George with Carmen and Alex with Lily and Lando. “Hi Lily,” you smiled warmly at your friend as she gasped. “Girl, gimme a twirl,” she held your hand above your head as she spun you around, “gorgeous, oh my god,”. She clapped her hands as you flushed, waving it off.

A small scoff made you turn to Lando, a small, confused frown across your face. “Hi Lando! Well done your win!’ you congratulated him, a beaming smile on your face. “Cheers,” he shrugged, hands in his pockets. Alex nudged him, making him scowl at the Thai and roll his eyes. “Why are you wearing that?” he said, nudging his chin at you. “M-my dress?” you asked, confused, as Lily went to say hi to Carmen.

“Yeah? What else?” he said, like it was obvious. “It’d a party, I thought I’d wear something that looked nice and Alex said-,” you started, but Lando interrupted. “Yeah yeah,” he waved it off, “don’t need your life story. You look weird,”. His lips turned upwards as his eyes roved over the material. Your cheeks flushed. “Like a right prat, prancing down here, god,” the Brit continued, eyes on your heels now.

“Oh, um,” you said, stepping back slightly. “I need the bathroom,” you muttered, hurrying off into the cloakroom, trying to ignore the tears in your eyes. “Lando, what the fuck?” Alex snapped, looking at the younger man. “What?” he asked, like he didn’t do anything. Lily came back, seeing her distressed boyfriend and turning to him. “Where’s Y/N?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “This one made her cry,” Alex shrugged, nudging his shoulder at Lando.

“Lando, what the fuck? You can’t even last ten seconds without upsetting Y/N, can you?” she cried, hands on her hips as Lando looked up guiltily. “She’s not crying, she’s-,” he started but Carmen cut him off. “Yes she is, I just went to see her,” she rolled her eyes at Lando. “I didn’t mean to make her cry, it was an off-handed comment,” he said, regretting what he had said. “Fucking move,” he scowled at Alex, walking to the cloakroom. “Don’t you fucking dare hurt her, Norris,” Lily snapped after him.

He ignored her, making his way to the cloakroom. You were sat on the floor, phone in your hand, scrolling through pointless TikToks. “Lando,” you said, wiping your face quickly. “Y/N,” he nodded, shutting the door behind him, “I didn’t mean to upset you,” he said, frowning slightly. “You didn’t upset me, it’s just, um, allergies,” you sniffed. “Really? You don’t always have to be such a people pleaser. I was a jerk, Y/N,” he dead, kneeling down to your height. “It’s your win day, Lando, don’t bother,” you brushed it off.

“Best reward right now would be a smile,” his index finger brushed against your jawline as you laughed softly. “Happy?” you smiled softly, realising how close he was to you. In truth, he found you pretty. And he didn’t know what to do, you were very beautiful, yes, but there was something so enticing about you. Maybe how innocent and adorable you were. How hot you looked, without intending for it to be like that. And he wanted to protect you from anyone else, but he didn’t know how to. He wanted you in filthy ways, in truth.

“Are we gonna kiss?” you asked, his lips a few centimetres from yours. “I dunno. Do you wanna?” he asked, a soft chuckle escaping his mouth. You hummed to show you did, letting his hand come to the back of your hand, other one pushing your knees down so he could pull you in closer. Your legs pushed between the inside of his thighs, his tongue playing at your lips as you gasped. “Lando…” you began, his knee parting your legs as you flushed. “Hmmm?” he hummed, pulling back and attaching himself to your neck.

“I want you,” you said, almost embarrassed. “You have me?” he asked, confused. “More,” you said, tugging at his belt. That was an action he had never predicted from you. “Thank god the music’s loud,” he groaned, unbuckling hidden trousers. The cloakroom was small, like a cupboard, just enough space for about four people if they squeezed, but you’d make do. Lando latched the lock on the door, lifting you into his arms. With his back against the wall, he place you on his stomach, panties pressed against his abs.

“Someone’s wet f’me,” he said, index slightly brushing over your clothed clit as you gasped. “Mhm,” you hummed, letting him move them to the side, the cool air hitting your body. “Gonna make this quick, or Lily would think I killed ya,” he grinned, shuffling you back, his cock springing against your thigh. “Please,” you said, palms flat on his chest as he slid you down, taking his full length. “Lando!” you cried, eyed wide at the stretch.

“Never gonna be mean to you again,” he hummed, bouncing you slightly as he thrust his hips upwards. Your face was above his chest, your mouth open in shock still, cheeks flushed and chest heaving. “So pretty,” he cooed, hand cupping your breast, teeth latching onto the exposed skin. “You like that, yeah?” he asked, tongue running over the faint mark. You nodded, both of his hands coming to your waist to hold you up and firm in place, so he could hammer into you from the bottom.

“Stay with me doll,” he tapped your cheek, your eyes regaining focus as he wiped your hair away. “‘M close,” you mumbled as he grinned. “Me too,” he nodded. You felt yourself release onto him, the music fading your moans as Lando groaned, pulling out and spilling onto his own stomach. “Good girl,” he panted, “wow, doll,” he slid you off of him, cradling your body into his chest. “Gotta clean up before they come back and try to kill me,” he wiped the excess off of his body and helped you look back to normal.

“Where were you two?” George said, eyebrows raised. “Takes a lot of convincing to apologise to her,” Lando said, trying to hide his smirk. “Alright, bro,” Alex nodded, turning back to George. “Mhm,” Carmen winked at you as you flushed,

[chefkids]

The Bear is A Midsummer Night's Dream and Marcus is making the violet love potion for Syd and Carmy

There have been Shakespeare references in The Bear from the very beginning. In the very first episode Marcus finds Carmy’s James Beard award for Fairest Creatures, which is a Shakespearean sonnet about life being short and how everything will end and die even if they're beautiful, but the only thing that survives are children, and not having children deprives the world of beauty. Nat's conversation with Jimmy about raising children was parallel with Carmy's conversation with Terry about starting a restaurant. Then of course there was Richie singing Love Story which is about Romeo & Juliet.

Violet and purple flowers are a reoccurring thing we see and learn about in Season 3 of The Bear. According to Roman mythology, the wild pansy, a type of violet flower, was originally white, then turned into the purple Love-in-idleness when Cupid accidentally shot one of his arrows at it, working as a love potion with Cupid's powers. The first time we see purple flowers is in Tomorrow when Carmy tweezing purple flowers next to Luca at Ever, this is the same wagyu dish they ate at the Ever funeral with Sydney. We see more flowers in montages, like Carmy eating them at Noma, bouquets in hotels, and at Marcus' mom's funeral and more.

A Midsummer Night's Dream TL;DR: The play starts with Theseus preparing for his wedding to Hippolyta, he declares that young people should have fun and celebration, not sadness like at a funeral. Hermia, Lysander, Helena, and Demetrius are in a love square and run away to the woods. Puck aka Robin Goodfellow, a fairy that enjoys mischief, manipulates them with the juice of a violet flower, love-in-idleness, that makes people fall in love with the next creature they see. Things get messed up, the wrong people fall in love with each other, and they all fight with each other. Puck reverses the magic, then the couples reconcile and get married at Theseus and Hippolyta's wedding. There is also group of 6 stupid men called the Mechanicals that put on a play, Pyramus and Thisbe (which is also the inspiration behind Romeo & Juliet) for the wedding. In the end, Puck breaks the fourth wall and apologizes to the audience for any offense the play might have caused. The Bear Season 3 started and ended with a funeral and an attempt at a celebration, and we know there will be a wedding in Season 4.

Marcus and his magic purple flowers are always tying back to Syd and Carmy. In Doors the purple flowers at the funeral cut to Sydney and Carmy's "cause you write in the margins" wholesome moment between them.

In Children, Marcus sees a white violet then it cuts to Sydney reading the partnership agreement that Carmy sent while wearing a purple flower scarf.

He then tells Nat about it, she mentions it's the state flower of illinois and he decides to make a white violet flower dessert.

In Violet, Marcus is working on some purple liquid and holds a violet petal, then it cuts to Syd and Carmy.

Even back in Season 1 Marcus was interested in the color purple and flowers, roommate Chester brought pantone color swatches. In Legacy Marcus and Carmy talk about creating magic to push his violet dish further, then Sydney appears.

In that same episode after the conversation about legerdemain and magic, Richie's notebook makes its own sleight of hand. It's a bit hard to read his terrible handwriting but on one page it says Lover for Syd on top and below:

Carmy -> Syd Luca -> Carm

And in another page he wrote:

Syd -> pansy Luca -> Carmen

Richie is Puck/Robin and he wants to see what would happen if Luca and Carmy start fighting for Syd. Richie and the Fak's have been fucking with the dream weave and Carmy’s love story for a while by pushing him to be with Claire.

The Faks are the Mechanicals, a group of incompetent manual laborers. We see Carmy tweezing herbs next to some pansy flowers, then Fak brings out the donkey piñatas. In A Midsummer Night's Dream, one of the mechanicals, Bottom, gets turned into a donkey then the rest of the mechanicals say they are being haunted. And we all know how much the Fak's love to talk about being haunted. Can't get more on the nose than that for them.

The Faks/Mechanicals are mechanics but they think they can make a movie/play. Theodore Fak thinks he makes art films, Sammy Fak argues with him over SD cards and tells him he makes films for children's parties. Even Francie Fak is a reference to one of the mechanics, Francis Flute, who is the only one forced to play the female role in the play they are putting on for the wedding. Also, In A Midsummer Night’s Dream (1999) Michelle Pfeiffer played Tatiana, the Queen of the Fairies, who Storer originally had in mind to play Donna. 

When Richie arrived to Ever he took off a fishing hook from a purple flower, then right after Luca appears and greets Carmy. Carmy's flower tattoo in his hand is a violet, and it was right in front of his face the whole dinner when he was next Sydney and Luca and they started vibing with each other. Next season will have a wedding and Marcus' white violet dessert will be tasted. Richie already told us plan he has for Syd, the pansy and it goes from Luca to Carmy.

At the end of the play Puck has an epilogue and breaks the fourth wall to apologize to the audience if they have offended them. Richie and Tiff broke fourth wall to address the "kids" aka us the audience in Apologies. In conclusion, The Bear is a Shakespearean comedy, but it is also first and foremost, a messy love story. 💜

[thebearer]

Ugh I love your writing 🫶🫶 could you do something where the reader and Carmen have that asshole to everyone but his partner trope 🫶like the staff see how he acts around the reader when they drop by to see him during his lunch break and they’re in shock ?

yes yes yes!! I feel like that's such a good trope for him!!

"Guys, what did I tell you? House keeping, please, fuck!" Carmen yelled, running a frustrated hand through his hair, a chorus of "yes, chef!" following him.

"Hey, Carmy," Neil puffed, carrying the ladder towards the bathroom. "Your girl's in your office."

Carmen's eyes lit up, frustration dissipated at the sound that you were here, waiting for him- surprised him. "Thanks, Neil." Carmen grumbled, non-slip shoes padding across the floor, rounding the corner with an announcement, slipping into the office.

There you were, sitting in the chair, legs propped up on his desk, lazily flicking through recipes. "Hey," Carmen greeted, lips curling when he shut the door behind him. "What're you doin' here? I didn't know you were stopping by."

You spun towards him, feet clomping on the ground at the movement, a tiny smirk on your lips. "Came to see you." You hummed. "Thought I'd take up your offer tonight and come have family with you."

"Yeah?" Carmen's eyes lit up, bright and excited- still a little bashful, even after all the time you'd been together. "That's nice, real nice. I'm glad you came, baby."

You giggled, flinging the recipes on the desk, hands cupping either side of his head to pull him closer when he ducked down for a kiss. Your lips slotted over his, hands sliding through his hair to push him further into you. Carmen laughed into the kiss, hands reaching for your jaw, tilting your head up towards him.

"Stand up," Carmen muttered, lips moving against yours.

You obliged, switching places with him so he was in the chair, you straddling his waist. Your arms looped around his neck, his on your back, the other cradling your ass, sliding and squeezing over the fatty flesh there.

"Hey, cousin, time for fami- oh!" Richie recoiled, slamming the door just as quickly as he opened it. "Oh, for fuckssake, lock the door if you're gonna be nasty! Christ!"

"How about you knock!" Carmen shouted back, cheeks tinging with the red tint of embarrassment. You bit your lip, biting back a laugh. Carmen glared at you lightly. "That's not funny."

"It's a little bit funny, Carmy." You grinned, gently petting down a stray curl tugged out of place. "Like a teeny tiny bit." You pressed your fingers together for emphasis, ignoring his light snort of laugher.

"Richie's runnin' his mouth in there, you know that right?" Carmen muttered, hands smoothing sweetly down your waist.

You shrugged. "He always is."

"Yeah," Carmen laughed. "You're right about that, c'mon." He patted your ass lightly for you to get up. You grabbed his hands, tugging him lightly out of his chair, swinging your arms between the two of you.

"Who cooked tonight?" You asked, arms looped around his waist, padding down to the back room.

"Sydney." Carmen replied, grinning at your hum of satisfaction.

"Oh, everyone avert your fucking eyes, here they come." Richie announced loudly, turning to the table before him. "Cousin, that was fuckin' quick, eh?"

"Shut up." Carmen rolled his eyes, annoyed, pushing past Richie. He ignored the snickers from Tina, placing a hand on your back, pulling your chair out for you.

"Here, baby, you want a pop or somethin'?" Carmen asked you in a hushed tone, reaching to grab a glass from the spaces behind him.

"I'll just do water." You nodded towards the pitcher in the middle.

"Sure. You want lemon?" Carmen asked, pushing your hand away lightly when you went to pour your glass, a simple "I got it" that shouldn't have made you as flustered as it did. You blamed the make out session that got cut short.

Tina's eyes cut to Richie, watching the two of you whisper gently. Carmen looked relaxed, shoulders not tensed and eyes not darting. No, he was calm when he talked to you... maybe even sweet? The smiles he gave you certainly were.

Tina shrugged lightly at Richie, a smug, knowing smile on her face.

[juuuulez]

📋 | carmen berzatto nsfw alphabet.

don’t ask what possessed me today. it was definitely all the weed.

soo much nsfw under the cut….this is just paragraphs of porn.

A= Aftercare (what they’re like after the act):

whatever ur carmy kink headcanons are i think we all agree that he’s really sweet afterwards :( he might suddenly get nervous or anxious and overthink everything you’ve done (“are you sure you’re alright?” “i know, i know, baby ‘m just.. i wanna take care of you, yeah?”) and you’ll have to assure him it’s okay! you loved it, he was perfect, he didn’t hurt you. he just wants some reassurance and then he’ll be finding you some water, a snack, whatever you need! (“just crackers? ‘cus i’ve got this new recipe, it’s a soup, i can make it—“ “nobody wants soup after sex, carm.”)

B= Body part (favorite body part their own or their lovers):

carmy doesn’t like many things about himself, initially.. until you’re quick to vocalise exactly how amazing he is. immediately, carmy is enamoured with just what he can do with his hands. his palm covering the entirety of your neck when you kiss, or how his fingers looked splayed over your hip. and fuck, his fingers! they’re really thick, and carmen secretly gets off on the fact that your fingers are so much smaller, so even alone, you’ll never be able to finger yourself as good, never be able to reach those spots that carmy touched with ease.

C= Cum (anything that has to do with it):

let’s be so honest carmen berzatto marking kink is so real. it starts out as a practicality, pulling out to spill over your thighs, sticky white liquid that clung to your curves, and carmy found himself growing more aroused the longer he stared at it. now, even if you’re on the pill, carmy will pull out for the sole purpose of pumping his cum wherever he can, a physical reminder of what’s his, because despite all his flaws, you belong to him.

however, assuming carmy can hold back cumming well enough for this is bold, so it usually ends in covering your already sticky cunt and lower stomach in it.

D= Dirty secret (Pretty self explanatory):

he jerked off with your panties once. it was near the start of your relationship, and carmen was so busy with the re-brand, he barely got to see you. so, one of the rare days he was over, he’d done some laundry for the both of you. and found some pink lace panties. and kept them. and, those nights he’d come home late and exhausted and slightly miserable, unable to call you for you were at home fast asleep, carmen.. used them to jerk off! sue him! he felt so guilty about it (poor baby) and admitted to it after a couple months of dating. he seemed so ashamed that you couldn’t help but go easy on the punishment… tying him to the bed and getting him off by only grinding over his swollen cock, wearing those same pink lace panties.

E= Experience (do they know what they’re doing):

of course he doesn’t. not properly, at least. carmy’s never had girlfriends, and maybe had a hook-up or two at fancy chef events in New York or Paris or wherever. nothing that mattered, at least. so this time, he’s careful and attentive. asking questions like he’s studying for a test, watching every single movement, every reaction. you wouldn’t be surprised if he was taking notes.

F= Favorite position:

ooof carmen definitely wants to see your face. he likes holding it in his big palms, whispering sweet words over your lips and swallowing your moans (“c’mon sweetheart, you can do it.. just one more for me, huh? fuck— your cunt fuckin’ wants it yeah? that’s it..”). probably missionary mostly, maybe he fucks you from behind one early-morning, his forehead pressed to your neck while the sun seeps in through the blinds.

G= Goofy (how serious are they):

not exactly serious, but he definitely gets into the zone. for him, sex isn’t casual, and it’s a time that means a lot to him. he’s choosing to be vulnerable for someone, and in turn, feels special that he’s allowed to see you like this. carmen can loose himself in the moment, his mind going uncharacteristically blank, too focused on the pure sensation and emotion connected with it. despite this, carmy can always be found gently tapping your cheek, pushing through the haze to ask “you with me, baby? feel good?”, because his pleasure only comes when you’re still into it.

H= Hair (grooming habits):

carmen doesn’t particularly allocate time to grooming down there, it’s not really a priority, unless his partner explicitly made it clear to him that was of interest. however, i don’t think carmy has the thickest of hair, just dark little curls in all the normal places. idk guys just thinking about shirtless lip…..he’s a pretty smooth guy.

I= Intimacy (in the moment romantic or rough/dirty):

definitely depends. i wanna say a mix of both? when you’re into it carmen is so lovely, making sure to express how much he loves you, how much you mean to him. but private time doesn’t come around very often, so it’s usually instigated with a needy carmen coming home, exhausted from a long shift, his hands gripping at your waist before the words come out. his actions aren’t demanding at all, still gentle, but hurried and desperate to get inside your cunt.

J= Jack off (do they masturbate and how often):

carmy is so a shower jerk person. i know guys i just know. he doesn’t like making a mess anywhere else, because it’s just an inconvenience, and cleaning the sheets or another shirt is just another useless task he doesn’t have time for. it’s rare he begins with the intention of jerking off, either. the hot shower melts away a day of tension, and carmen finds himself finally relaxing, finally tuning into his body, only to realise how much he needs this.

K= Kink (kinks what they like possibly unusual):

we’ve already established the marking kink… and now listen 😝 i am a sub carmy truther guys! i can’t help it he’s so baby i need him to cry for me ;( but carmy definitely likes being bossed around, being told what to do, when he gets to cum.. it’s a change from being in control of literally everything, which most of the time carmen feels all he does falls apart, so he enjoys not having to think (which usually means second-guess and reconsider and debate and obsess).

L= Location (where they like to get it on):

every single carmen office quickie fic is SO SO SO SO SO SEXY they always have me foaming and barking like a rabid animal….however i’m gonna have to say his or your bed! he likes the idea of you being comfortable..bonus points for you guys probably fucking more often on the couch, since needy carmen can’t wait long enough to split you open :(

M= Motivation (things that makes them tick/turn ons):

there are a variety of ways to get carmen in the mood, but his #1 is a confident partner who takes what they want. imagine carmy obsessing over the new menu, spending endless hours in the living room, papers and recipes and notes scattered over the table. you’ve barely gotten any attention all night, not necessarily in a needy way, just that this was supposed to be your night off together. the solution is actually quite easy: climbing onto the table, obscuring carmen’s vision of his work. before a protest can leave his lips, brows furrowed in confusion and slight distress, your hands are firmly pressing down on his shoulders. “you’re gonna eat me out, yeah? like you promised?” and he is DOWN on his knees, mind fucking short-circuiting, because suddenly there is nothing he’d rather do.

N= No (turnoffs or absolutely won’t do):

carmen really doesn’t like seriously hurting you, so no intense spanking or choking. however i really love choking 🙄🙄 so i think he’d wrap his hand around your neck, his finger rubbing the hinge of your jaw, his warm palm a gentle assurance of the power he has without fully exercising it.

O= Oral (receiving or giving and how skillful they are):

pussy eating champ…carmen genuinely gets off on being able to make you feel good. his strong arms bracketing your thighs, fingers digging into the plush skin, holding you to his mouth while his tongue fucks deep. carmy can’t help but rut against the mattress, hips hastily thrusting in tune to your moans, the swollen head of his dick rubbing against the sheets. “please, baby, please.. c’mon, just a little longer, please— i need it so fuckin’ bad.” he’ll cry into your cunt after your first orgasm, needing to eat your sopping pussy in order to cum.

P= Pace (how fast they are and how long they last in bed):

soft, grinding rolls of his hips against yours, holding your cunt against the base of his cock, letting your clit rub against his skin. carmen takes it slow, making sure to hit the spongy place right up inside you, the one that makes you cry and squirm.

Q= Quickie (do they prefer fast and hard):

carmen prefers to take his time with it, but more often you find yourself hurriedly making love on the couch, bench, shower, maybe even his car. clothes scattered around the room, a bra on the chair, carmen’s boxers under the coffee table. he’ll take you wherever he can, whenever the time finally allows it, and he makes it deep and fast.

R= Risk (do they like to try new things):

anything you want, he’ll hear you out. carmen loves to learn, he wants to know everything that makes you tick, and will willingly absorb anything you have to teach. that’s not to say he isn’t nervous, as he finds himself always double-checking you’re still alright, asking if it still feels good.

S= Stamina (how many times they can go and how long each round lasts):

definitely a multiple rounds kinda guy. he can’t help it! the sight of you laying there, stripes of cum over your stomach and shiny slick on your thighs, carmen finds himself hard all over again. expect a round two, maybe three from him, and even then he’ll probably eat you out again.

T= Toys (are they game for using sex toys on themselves or lovers):

carmen doesn’t see the use for sex toys, since he’d much prefer to be the one providing you pleasure. definitely not fully opposed, though, he’ll fuck you long and slow with a vibrator on nights where he just wants to watch and study you.

U= Unfair (how do they tease or do they enjoy suspense themselves):

i 🩷 edging so carmen 🩷’s edging! carmy puts on this needy desperate front (“please, fuck, i need’a cum, ‘m not kidding.”) but there is NOTHING alike to carmy’s mind going completely blank after denying his third orgasm in a row, his cock swollen and throbbing with each pass of your hand, only for you to finally give him permission (“cum for me, carmy, i’ve got you.”)

V= Volume (are they loud, what sounds, and do they talk):

think about the lowest, guttural moans you’ve ever heard. as carmen gets closer, they taper off into higher whines, soft whispers into your skin about how much he wants this.

W= Wild card (random sincannon of any sort):

now, carmen does not take disrespect in the kitchen, and clearly doesn’t tolerate people talking back. but you? there’s a certain fire in his stomach, when you glare at him over the pass, or don’t back up whenever he gets into your personal space. if you stand your ground, firm and sure about whatever you’re doing, carmen feels himself fostering a growing mixture of respect and arousal.

X= X-ray (what’s down below in dem pants):

i just KNOW carmen is thick…the stretch seems impossible every time, his cock filling up every inch inside your hot cunt, while carmen whispers that it’s going to be alright, that you can take it.

Y= Yearning (sexdrive level):

higher than carmen has time for. hence the jerking off in the shower, and fucking you on the couch. he’ll take anything that he can get, for he knows time isn’t on his side.

Z= Zzzz (do they sleep after if so how quickly after):

carmy will ask you a hundred questions about how you’re feeling, if you need anything, what he can do, before finally settling in beside you. sometimes he’ll lay there for a few minutes, before dragging himself up, uttering some excuse about needing to revise the new menu. you’ll fuss, try and pull him back down, and he’ll fold almost instantly.

[wannabeschyulersister]

might as well be drunk in love

*part two to lovelorn and nobody knows*

part one

warnings: mentions of a panic attack

It had been four and a half months since you left The Bear behind. Despite being so heartbroken over the what happened, you made yourself get up each day. There wasn’t time to let the sadness consume you. You had to move on.

Your dream one day was to open your own restaurant and you couldn’t do that if you were wallowing.

Part of you wanted to cut everyone off for the fresh start that you so desperately wanted. But it wasn’t their fault that you were heartbroken.

Plus, Tina would kick your ass if you stopped talking to her.

So, you kept up with everyone. Minus Carmen. It was just easier this way. The others mentioned him a couple of times and you’d noticed that it got easier and easier to hear his name without it hurting you.

You kept yourself busy with work and maintaining friendships that you built at The Bear while also making new ones. You tried so very hard to keep that tattooed blue-eyed man out of your mind.

The restaurant that you were a sous chef now wasn’t as flashy as The Bear had turned out to be. It still had that family-like style that you liked.

You still followed the same habits that you had at The Bear. So, you grabbed your coat and headed outside for your break. It was around 6:30. You liked to have some calming moments before the dinner rush.

When you stepped out the back door to the alley, you were stunned to see Carmen standing there leaning against the wall.

You both just stood there for a few seconds not saying anything. You wondered if you were truly losing it. If he was just a figment of your imagination.

“Hey.” He said snapping you out of your thoughts. He looked good like always. He was wearing his classic blue jeans, plain white tee and an olive bomber jacket. His hair was haphazardly styled but still looked incredible.

“What are you doing here?”

“I figured you still followed the same break time.”

“How did you know where I worked?”

“Syd told me. Well, I uh, I begged her to tell me. I didn’t know if you’d answer my calls. I’ve been wanting to talk to you.”

“About?”

“Why you really left the restaurant. I asked everyone when you left for a reason why. They didn’t know. Or they just didn’t want to tell me.”

“I already told you why I left.”

“Yeah? Well I don’t believe you, (Y/n).”

“I don’t have time for this.” You started to walk away but Carmen quickly moved in front of you. He blocked the back door.

“You practically ignored me the last two weeks you were there. You didn’t answer my calls and stopped texting me. Was it- did I make you uncomfortable?”

“No!” You quickly answered.

“Then what was it? I’ve been drivin’ myself crazy tryin’ to figure out why you left.”

“Because I’m in love with you!” You wanted to scream out.

Carmen froze. “You’re what?”

Shit. Looks like you actually did say it out loud.

“Uh, I didn’t mean-“

“Wait, you left because you have feelings for me?”

“Please forget that I said that. I didn’t mean it and I- I know that you’re-“ you felt like you were on the verge of a panic attack. You couldn’t believe that you’d blurted out that you were in love with Carmen to him.

“Hey. Hey, take a deep breath.” You felt Carmen cup your face between his hands. His face was so close to yours if you leaned up, your lips would be on his.

Carmen breathed in deeply with you, held it for four seconds and then exhaled. The breathing technique normally worked for you but it helped how close in proximity he was. His touch alone put you at ease.

You were more completely overwhelmed instead of having a panic attack. You knew the difference. The embarrassment of having told Carmen that you were in love with him made you just want to fall out.

“Are you okay?” He asked softly after a few moments.

“No, I’m mortified.”

You heard him chuckle, “That’s a first for me. I’ve never had someone say they’re mortified with being in love with me.”

Taking a step back, you removed yourself from his grasp. In that moment, you’d forgotten that he was spoken for. He had a girlfriend. It was inappropriate to be so wrapped up.

“I shouldn’t have said that. You’re with Claire and I respect relationships.”

“(Y/n)-“

“No, you shouldn’t be here. You should be with your girlfriend and I have to get back to work.”

Carmen raised his voice, “(Y/n)!” He stepped closer to you again, “Claire and I broke up.”

“What?”

“After you left, I, uh, I took it really hard. I don’t know if Sydney told you.”

You shook your head, “I told them I didn’t want to hear anything about…you. Or Claire for that matter.”

“I didn’t want to really interact with anyone. Even more than usual. I missed having you around and-and our talks during our break. You always put me in a good fuckin’ mood just by your presence. Sometimes when things were stressful as fuck, I’d look over at you, and-and you’d smile at me and-“

“And what?” He literally had you hanging on every word.

“And I knew that everything would be okay.” He answered looking deeply into your eyes, “When Claire confronted me about how I’d been actin’, I realized then that what we had it wasn’t how it should be.”

“What do you mean?”

“I should get those fuckin’ butterflies that people always talk about. I should be at ease when she’s around. I should be able to sit in silence with her but things not be so damn awkward. It should be comfortable. It should be like how I feel with you.” Carmen finished.

What a turn of events this conversation had turned out to be. One minute, you thought he was some illusion and the next he was practically confessing that he had feelings for you too.

“You have feelings for me?”

Carmen nodded, “It took me to realize it when you walked out of The Bear for the last time. I was scared that I’d never see you again. I gave you space because I thought that’s what you wanted. But, I’m crazy in love with you. I didn’t want to not tell you how I feel.”

“I’m glad you did tell me. I don’t think I’d ever have the courage to tell you.”

“I wish you would’ve. I feel like we wasted a lot of time where we could’ve been together.”

“And what would we be doing if we were together?” You confidently took a step closer to him again. He was close enough to kiss.

Carmen smiled, “Well, first, I’d grab you here,” he placed his hands on your waist pulling you towards his body, “then, I’d lift up your chin lightly,” he did so.

His face tilted down towards you, “and then I’d kiss you.”

When he finally pressed his lips against yours, the world around you went silent. In that damn moment, you didn’t even remember your name.

You didn’t care that it was freezing outside. You didn’t care that you were most likely past your fifteen minutes on your break. You just cared that Carmen Berzatto was kissing you.

The back door opened and you heard your friend and the pastry chef call your name, “(Y/n)? Do you always make out with strangers on your break?”

This made the both of you laugh. “I have to get back inside.”

“Can I come and pick you up afterwards? I want to see you again tonight.” Carmen asked after he kissed you softly one last time.

“I get out around 10. Don’t be a minute late, Berzatto.”

“I wouldn’t dare be late.”

[shoot-the-oneshot]

SOULMATE

Lando Norris x Reader F1 as romance tropes Masterlist

If anyone asked Lando always knew he was going to be an F1 driver. It was his dream, his destiny. Not the words imprinted on his arm.

“At least he’s an F1 driver” were the words that appeared on his 16th birthday. At first, he was ecstatic it was proof not only he had a soulmate but he achieved his dreams. It wasn’t until he’d been at McLaren for a few years the words almost haunted him seeing the other drivers meet theirs and he was still walking down the paddock alone, well almost.

“At least you’ll know immediately when you meet her, mine says “hello” that could be anyone!” His best friend Max spoke seeing the dark look in Landos eyes watching Alex and Lily.

Lando scoffed shaking it off “And she'll only care that I’m a driver not about me.” That was the problem the longer you took to meet the worse his thoughts got.

“You don’t know that, she might just think you’re stupid,” at his friends' words Lando turned to glare at him who held his hands in surrender, “You say stupid stuff sometimes”

“You’re not helping you know.” Anything else Lando wanted to say got cut off by a new visitor.

“How’s it going gents, wait Lando what’s with the murder face?” George spoke as he joined the two men, the black Mercedes race suit a stark contrast with the orange of Landos.

“Lando is pouting watching the happy couple over there.” Max's thumb jutting over his shoulder towards the Williams garage and the other British driver understood while Lando tried to look anywhere but the the man now looking at him with pity

George knew how he felt, he felt like half of himself before he met Carmen. “Carmen has a friend in town for the race Lewis and I were going to all go to dinner why don't you come along and get out of your head for a while”

“Appreciate the offer mate but I don't think being a fifth wheel sounds that fun.”

“Lewis had a last-minute meeting he can’t make it now, you should come so Y/n isn’t lonely” lies George spoke before he thought, Carmen would kill him for this.

“He would love to text him the time and place! See you later George.”

Max shoved his friend who was silently thinking of an excuse so he could go home and drown himself in his sorrows so he was ready to go for the race.

“I'm not going,” Lando spoke as soon as they were alone and started walking again towards McLaren hospitality and into his drivers' room

“No, you’re not going home to sulk this dinner will be good for you, get out and socialize.”

“I don't need to socialize I’m fine where I am” the driver huffed stuffing his clothes into his bag ignoring the look his friend was giving.

“You like George and food this seems like a win-win to me!” Max spoke trying to convince him “And maybe the friend is hot plus you need to get out of this funk it’s depressing now go home and shave that god-awful goate and make yourself presentable”

Ignoring in insult Lando swung his bag over his shoulder and caved.

“Fine I’ll go but only to get as drunk as I can on George's tab” and maybe his friends were right and an easy night out would soothe the ache in his chest.

“I am so glad you’re finally here I’ve only been begging to get you at a race for years!” Carmen exclaimed from her spot on your bed while you picked through your suitcase for something the wear.

“Well this might be my last chance to meet Lewis so I figured I'd take it.” You joked, flashing the 44 hat you brought for the race waving it like a flag as she rolled her eyes at your behavior.

“Better not wear that to the garage George might feel offended.” Carmen sang a smile on her face showing she didn’t mean it

“Listen I love George but just like with Toto Lewis is first in my heart George second.” You laughed dodging the pillow she flung at you.

“Alright come on George will be here soon we can wait downstairs.” Grabbing her bag you followed behind her making small talk as you both waited for the Mercedes to pull up

You fake gagged as George immediately jumped you to open your friends' door with a kiss. “Y/n always a pleasure good to see you again.” He said giving her a quick hug while opening the back door for her to get in the car. Returning the sentiment

“I wonder if they have any shawarma at the restaurant” your friend spoke you could hear the smile in her voice as she teased you obviously payback for your comment earlier.

“Oh wow, that joke still hasn’t gotten old.” You deadpanned making George look at the both of you in confusion not getting the inside joke of your soulmate's words.

Choosing to change the subject you felt excitement filling you the closer to your destination you got

“George I cannot thank you enough for setting this up it’s a dream come true I’ve been watching Lewis race for years!” You smiled while Carmen laughed

“She’s been geeking out over meeting Lewis” she spoke as her boyfriend’s shoulders stiffened.

“Well about that….Lewis had a meeting but don’t worry I already took care of it everything is fine and I promise I’ll introduce you tomorrow.” He rushed out white knuckling the steering wheel as you deflated, you were disappointed but it wasn’t his fault.

“Who’d you invite?” You asked before he could answer he was already parked, he turned in his seat looking back at you.

“We’ve been friends forever… I’m sure it will be fine” You would’ve had more confidence if he didn't pause and have such a nervous smile on his face

Lando who was leaned against the building next to the entrance he’s pretty sure he’s accidentally scared off a few couples from entering with his brooding. He glances up hearing a car pull up his back suddenly straightened as if he was struck by lightning when the back car door opened.

His feet moved faster than his brain as he rushed to hold a hand out helping you out of the car.

A soft smile slid across his face uncharacteristically for his recent mood, but before he could dwell on it he locked eyes with you.

Shyly taking the offered hand you got out of the car slightly shocked by the turn of events not having expected George's friend to behave like that.

“Hi, I’m Y/N nice to meet you.” You spoke looking into a pair of awestruck brown eyes. “Umm hello?”

“Lando!” George shouted when you looked around the group when the other Brit failed to respond in choice of staring

“Lando yeah I’m Lando hi.” The man rushed out then mentally kicked himself when you nodded with a smile that made his mind go black again as you walked ahead with Carmen.

“Mate, what was that?” George spoke staring at the fellow driver whose face was covered with his hands “I don't know….” He groaned.

When they entered the restaurant you and Carmen were already seated Lando ungracefully jumped to the empty seat in front of you as if someone else would take it. Huffing out a smirk when you looked up at the sudden noise.

“Y/n this is Lando he drives for McLaren we grew up karting together along with Alex,” at the mention of Alex, Lando recalled the scene from that morning at deflated back into his seat.

“Nice to meet you I haven’t met to many of the grid yet so I’m glad to have started small.” You smiled across the table, still slightly in a mood he just politely nodded back

“You went golfing with Lily a few months ago didn't you?” George asked hoping to spark Landos' interest which worked flawlessly as the man perked back up.

“You like golf? I played in a tournament with the PGA guys for Netflix”

Out of all the things he had to brag about the Netflix cup is what he chose, god, Max was right he does say stupid stuff sometimes.

“You must be pretty good.” If Lando wasn’t proud of his previous answer his next one wasn’t any better. “Oh yeah, practically just hole-in-ones.” He smiled ignoring the look from the other driver, who tried to subtly yank on his sleeve to get his attention away from the two women who were giggling at his poor attempts at impressing you.

“Anyone who’s played golf with you knows that a lie pull yourself together” George spoke his tone hushed “I’m trying I don't know what’s wrong.”

The two men straightened up as if their little conversation never happened and looked over the menus. Lando who was reading over every sentence trying to collect himself.

“What in the world what is chicken shar-sharwarma chicken shar warma.” Lando stutters out thinking it was surely a typo.

George slammed his menu down on the table and looked over at Lando with the most disappointment he had ever seen on his face.

“What did I just say to you!”

“I’m sorry it’s confusing!”

“Chicken shawarma Lando it is not hard if you can’t say it don't order it!” George barked any rebuttal Lando had gets cut off by Carmens' loud gasp. Making both men turn.

“Oh my god!”

“I know he's a muppet” George who thought she was baffled by his friend just waved it off and went to change the subject before you spoke

“At least he's an F1 driver” Lando froze at your words swearing he felt a tingle on his arm where those very words sat. “Oh my god!” Carmen squealed in excitement at what she was witnessing.

“Plus he's pretty.” You lightly spoke still in shock at finding your soulmate who whined “See why wasn’t that part on there.” Lando threw his hands in the air wishing that’s what he stared at for years.

“Wait you think I’m pretty?” He smirked snapping back into the personality he was known for. His question made a flush appear on your cheeks and Lando is sure he just fell in love harder at the sight.

“Can someone tell me what’s happening?” George demanded seeing his girlfriend tear up and you and Lando doing whatever it was you two were doing.

Lando still on a high leaned his arm on the table rolling his white button-down sleeve to his elbow revealing the words you spoke, not taking his eyes off you the entire time.

“That George, was me meeting my girl.”

The rest of the dinner passed by in a whirlwind, all you could remember was the feeling of meeting your soulmate you never thought you’d say this but you’re glad Lewis had a work obligation or you wouldn’t be walking down the paddock hand and hand with Lando a brand new McLaren hat on your head.

“I’m still upset you threw my hat across the room.” Your words did little to dim the smile on his face, glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

“I’m sorry love, would a first-place trophy make it better?” He boasted feeling as if he was on top of the world with you by his side.

“Oh big ambitions today, huh, feeling good?”

“With you here, babe I'll be unstoppable, and once I win you have to throw out that dreadful hat I’m the only British driver allowed in your heart now.” He declared, his hand sliding down your arm to grab yours. Pulling you to a stop outside his garage.

“There’s the happy couple!” A new voice shouted from the sea of papaya. Max ran out, making Lando roll his eyes and you smile. You spent the last two days glued to each other so you knew all about his best friend.

“Finally so nice to meet you thank you for showing up and fixing this muppet!”

“I wasn’t a muppet, you muppet!”

“It’s very nice to meet you as well Max.” You interrupted the two before they could get started on the back and forth. Landos attention switching as you spoke threw his arm over your shoulder, a smug expression on his face getting to show you off.

“I know what lover boys words were but what was yours?” Max ashed almost bouncing on his feet in excitement. Lando groans immediately holding his head in your neck.

Rubbing your hand through his curls knowing this was going to be rough on him, you showed Max your other arm. “Mate you wonder why I said she probably thought you were stupid!”

Lando felt your head nodding in agreement making his shoot up to pout at you. “I’m sorry but come on it wasn’t your best moment neither was spilling wine all over the table.”

“He spilled wine! Come tell me everything.” Max gasped, pulling you away from Lando lacing your arm with his leading you down the paddock. Leaving the driver to trail behind the two.

A year later.

A hand came into your view as the car door swung open revealing your fiancé.

“For old times sake huh?” you teased refusing to the time he nearly tripped over himself to get to your door the night you met. Lando fondly rolled his eyes. “You act like I don't always get the door for you.” He bowed exaggeratedly pulling the large glass door open leading to the restaurant.

“Like how you acted like you were a golf expert?” Lando's jaw drooped in mock offense before collecting himself pulling you closer to whisper in your ear.

“Got a hole-in-one with you though didn't I?” You giggled hitting his chest as you reached the table. Lando left to greet George while you sat with Carmen and caught up.

Eventually, the men joined you both again, you only noticed when your chair was dragged to your right until you were pressed against Landos side, who held a menu for you to share. You smiled at his determination to keep you close.

Squeezing your arm which you now knew as his ‘watch this’ motion he winked.

“I think I’ll have the chicken shaworma chicken shar warma!”

“Mate not again!” George groaned while Lando laughed in mirth. Looking around the restaurant hasn’t changed a bit since the last time you were here and yet your entire life had, you now travel with your best friend around the world, and most importantly, found your soulmate

Hey guys we are back! After a very long break i got inspired to write again and while this one isn’t the best the other parts of this series are some of my favorites I’ve written so go check them out here but i do hope you all liked it

<< Charles Leclerc as brothers best friend

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[thecapricunt1616]

Apple - c.b. one shot

𝓢𝓷𝓲𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓽 (𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓑𝓣𝓒): “Why?” he whispered, leaning in, more of his weight on your throat. The monogram was digging in, likely to leave a bruise. He tuts at your little squeak. “Don’t try to play stupid.” He leans in, his breath fanning your lips. “I was thinkin’ how nice it is that y’mine. Mm? How I can come take this pussy whenever I want” he trailed his hand that was thumbing over your tattoo down, down, down

*pretend this is a pretty cut ooo so pretty and dainty*

The fucking apple granite. The stupid, absolutely unnecessary apple granite. He had replayed making the dish in his head the rest of his shift, he looked right at it. He looked right. at it. Where the fuck was his head?

You.

His mind, it was on you. It was on that god damned tattoo you had shown him last week. In tiny letters - so delicate and pretty, dainty even - was his last name. Berzatto. The first time he saw it knelt before where you were sitting on the bed as if he were worshipping a goddess and hugged your middle, kissing your ribs just over the second skin bandage your artist placed for you.

When Richie came to the kitchen with a plate, there were a few confused whispers, when he walked to Carmen’s station, cleared his throat and went “uh- Chef?” Syd paid attention, because he was returning with a plate - and not joking about it.

“Yo” Carm replied not looking up from the oysters he was splitting for the next plate. Focused. Something he always was - used to be. Used to be - used to be. That’s what fucks with him, still. Each day, it got worse. The feeling, the pull. Whenever he shut the door to your shared apartment behind him, he was counting the seconds until he could return. It never used to be like this. This angered him to say the least.

“Table 13” Richie set the plate down in front of him, half eaten and Carmen quickly looks over, having realized the meticulous plating he quickly understood the work to be his.

“And?” He asked without missing a beat, his tone was growing more agitated, now. What, what could this fucking patron have a problem with? That was what he thought at first, until Richie said

“They um- the wife - she realized halfway that she didn’t get the apple granite. She asked if you can..add it.” His voice got small by the end. Richie knew he was sealing the god damned warrant for everyone’s day to go in the shitter the second he had come into that kitchen with a plate for Carmen, and a complaint.

“Add it?” Carmy snaps, before he angrily took the plate, chucking it in the garbage can so hard the glass shattered. “Comp the fucking table” he grabs another plate and both quickly and masterfully put together the appetizer they’d ordered once again, making sure it was pristine.

“Fucking apple granite” he mumbled angrily to himself. “Tina where the fuck is my saffron how long does it take, chef?!” He barked, handing the plate to Richie and he hightailed it out of the kitchen fast as he could.

“Sorry Jeff! You put it on the top shelf I had to have Marcus help me get it” she drops off the bowl of the prepared spice at his station and quickly heads back to hers. The rest of the day went like this, and Syd exhausted herself trying to keep 3 steps ahead of him to keep the peace in the kitchen as best as she could.

She wasn’t always successful though, of course. Carmen flew off the handle a total of 3 times that shift, and his throat was actually a little raw from shouting. His voice sounded a bit deeper and horse due to this as well. He had scrubbed the skin off his hands just about brushing the grout until it damn near sparkled, and wasn’t walking in the door until around 12:05.

You were in bed, laid up watching some murder mystery show per usual in one of Carmy’s older ratty white shirts with sauce stains and random holes from god knows what. Your legs were bare, shining from having been slathered in Carmen’s favorite scented lotion after you’d had a shower. He nudged the door open with his knuckle, and you just stared at eachother for a moment.

The vibe radiating off him wasn’t the most pleasant. You’d known he’d had a bad day from the look on his face and the way he was holding himself. “You” he said. His voice was raw and scratchy, curls greasy from tugging on them all day.

“M-me?” You sit up a bit as he comes in the room, the fabric of his jeans swishing as he moved, the only other sound the soft volume on the tv and the hum of your bedroom fan. He dropped his backpack at the end of the bed, nudging off his sneakers and tossing them in the closet with a loud thud against the wall before flicking the door shut without a care of how brutely he was acting.

“What’s our word?” He asked and you swallowed thickly.

Oh…oh- he had one of those days

“Cocoa” you told him and sat on your knees politely, sitting back on your feet on the mattress as he approaches you and cups your cheek.

“M’not gonna go easy t’night, m’not gonna be gentle ‘er nice. You alright w’that?” He held your jaw, making you look at him, your cheeks slightly smushed.

“Yes” you said softly, looking up at him expectantly. He grabbed his ring you’d bought him from the nightstand, putting it on his middle finger while he watched you.

“Wanna know what happened at work today?” He muttered, flipping the ring to the inside of his hand so the initials were facing his palm and your eyes widened a bit. “Mmhmm” he nods and your cheeks heat at the realization of what was to come.

“W-what what did I do?” You squeak. In response you felt the cold white gold on your neck, pushing you back to lay down on the mattress and light pressure, just enough for that cool light feeling to start building in your head.

“This” he rucks the shirt up with his hand, calloused fingers brushing over your ribs to thumb over the now healed tiny tattoo under your left breast. “I can’t fuckin’ focus” he rubs his thumb back and forth over it, tightening his hand lightly.

“Why?” You asked lightly, since you could only get so much air. His piercing lust filled eyes met your glossed out ones, hazy, blissed out.

“Why?” he whispered, leaning in, more of his weight on your throat. The monogram was digging in, likely to leave a bruise. He tuts at your little squeak. “Don’t try to play stupid.” He leans in, his breath fanning your lips. “I was thinkin’ how nice it is that y’mine. Mm? How I can come take this pussy whenever I want” he trailed his hand that was thumbing over your tattoo down, down, down, until its cupping your heat through your daisy patterned panties.

You couldn’t think, all you could do was watch the Saint Anthony pendant dangling in front of your face “huh? Who owns this?” He spanks your pussy lightly, breaking you out of your daze with a small gasp. “I said who owns you?” He growled in the shell of your ear. You felt yourself dripping, your panties were becoming uncomfortable.

“You-“ you gasp as he spanked you again, harder.

“Who?” He challenged, rubbing away the sting with his cupped hand. “Try again.” He said in that soft, nearly patronizing way.

“Daddy” you whine, looking up at him with pleading eyes. “Daddy owns me” you widen your legs for him more, inviting him to take more of you.

“That’s a good kitten” he released your throat, kissing over the ‘CB’ that had been branded into your skin before grabbing your hips, and flipping you so you were stomach down like a rag doll. You gasp a bit, hearing the shhhlick of his belt after he unbuckled it and tossed it to the floor. “Do you care about these?” He snapped the waistband of your panties against your skin causing you to squeak in surprise

“N-no but-“

Your interrupted by the sharp sound of ripping fabric and suddenly your entire backside was exposed, “good” he said as he lined his tip up with your entrance. He holds you open with his fingers, spitting right over your hole that was clenching and unclenching in anticipation before thrusting in. You whine into the pillow, gripping the sheets with a white knuckle at the burning sensation as he splits you open. He growls hotly, pushing in deeper and you cry out in a mix of pain and pleasure.

Tears spring to your eyes, wetting the pillow below as he used you. He spanks you, hard enough that the monogram of his ring would leave bruises on your ass to admire later before roughly grabbing your hips and pulling you back and forth off his cock. “So fuckin tight. All f’me” he moaned, head falling back in bliss. He spanked you again, and again, your ass stinging and burning as he fucked up into your g-spot.

You were essentially sobbing with pleasure at this point, face buried into the pillow, muttering ‘please daddy please’ - babbling really. You weren’t sure what you were begging for at this point, mercy maybe? But Carmen wasn’t offering that until you’d been broken tonight. “Yeah? Beggin me t’use you? Mm? You like being my little cockwhore yeah?” He laid over you, tucking his hand underneath your frame and finding your clit, rubbing back and forth over the twitching nub.

He growls hotly in your ear “hear that? Mmm?” He thrusts harder. Your jaw was slack, face smushed into the pillow as the cold metal of his ring assaulted your clit. You whine in response, listening to the wet smacking sounds of skin against skin. “Fuckin suckin me in. Y’looove when I fuck you like this huh? Tell me how much you love it when daddy uses this pretty pussy” he spanks you “go’head. Tell daddy” he purrs in your ear.

“S-s’much!” You cry out, tears wetting your cheeks and your combined sweat causing your bodies to move together with no friction. “So much daddy- I love it- I’m yours. I belong to you” you clench around him, unable to stop it as your orgasm washes over you, making it hard for him to thrust it was so intense.

“Jeeesus” he spanked you over your raw pink flesh and you yelp “pussy is fuckin swallowing my cock huh? Beggin t’be fucked like this.” Your taken by surprise when he sits up, taking your hair in his fist and pulling fucking you faster. The entire bed shakes, the headboard slamming against the wall in a quick steady rhythm.

You couldn’t even think of anything. Your entire mind felt fuzzy and your body was overcome with pleasure. You weren’t even aware of the noises you were making, you could only focus on Carmy and what was making him feel good. Your back arched slightly and he pulls you up harder, you were now flush to his chest and he takes your neck into his hand once again, squeezing lightly and you smiled at the heightened pleasure it brought, looking back at Carm lovingly.

“Aww look at you huh?” He rubs your clit quicker and your hips jerk a bit “so pretty. Sooo pretty when I fuck y’stupid like this huh? Look at this droolin on my hand like a little animal” he thumbs the spit from the corner of your mouth.

“I-“ you rest your head back, trying to catch your breath. He released his hand lightly “I love you” you said softly and he kissed your forehead gently, tenderly - before holding your arm behind your back, and pushing you into the mattress, thrusts becoming sloppier.

“I know baby- I know. Y’take me so well huh? You were made for this cock” he moaned, his hand coming down on your ass and you flinch a bit so he rubbed the sting away with his palm, spreading you out with his hands so he could watch as he pounded you. Just jaw falls lacks as he sees the strings of your arousal coating his cock, pulling back and snapping with each thrust. The sounds he was making were lewd and whiny and raw

“So fuckin lucky- god I’m so fuckin lucky” he breathes, tugging your hips flush to his, filling you up with a low grunt, his chest rising and falling with each pant. He carefully pulled out of you, carefully rubbing up your sides with gentle hands. “Y’good baby?” He asked softly and squeezed your hips.

You let out a soft mmhmm before nuzzling into the pillow and closing your eyes, stray tears falling down your cheeks. “My sweet babygirl” he said softly and laid next to you, pulling you to his chest and stroking your hair. “You did so good mm? Such a good girl f’me” he kissed your lips tenderly.

You looked up at him, still fully blissed out and mind swarming with nothing but him. “We gotta get you some water huh? That was a lot f’you angel” he reached on your bedside table, grabbing your big pink owala bottle and clicking it open, holding it to your lips. “Drink f’me- at least 3 sips huh?” He coaxed, gently kissing your forehead and brushing your hair from your eyes.

You blinked a few times, finally digesting what he was saying and realizing everything was over. Your ass was sore, your pussy was sore, and your mouth was stuck together like glue. “Mm” your lip pouts out subconsciously. “I hurt” you said softly.

“Yeah honey? S’okay, let daddy take care f’you mm?” He pressed the bottle to your lips “drink-“ he ordered gently. You obliged leaning in slightly and sucking up the icy beverage. As soon as it hits your dry throat you moan softly at the relief, eyes fluttering shut as you gulp down the water. “Thas’a good girl” he coo’d, carefully brushing over your brow with his thumb. “Yknow I brought your favorite chocolate cake huh? There were a few pieces left - took ‘em all f’you” he mused with a slight smile.

You pulled away from the water, a bit dribbling down your chin from how desperately you were gulping down water, unsure how badly you needed it before he pressed it to your lips. “W’the-“

“Chocolate ganache? Mm- even put strawberries on the top f’each slice sweet girl, made y’a batch of chocolate covered strawberries too a dozen of em. Couldn’t let y’favorite chocolate go to waste, mm angel?” He rubbed over your bum gently, taking his hand away when you flinched. “Oo-“ he hissed through his teeth in surprise. “And some ice f’this poor bum eh?” He carefully sat up and padded to the kitchen.

He came back with a damp dish towel and gallon ziplock full of ice, as well as a spoon and plate of cake and a few chocolate covered strawberries. He set the supplies on the nightstand, opening the draw and you watched him as he pulled out your ‘after play numbing spray’ as the bottle called it, and aloe baby wipes. He took out 4 wipes, gently spreading your thighs. “Tell me if it hurts mm?” He said softly.

You watch as he carefully flips you over and cleans you up gently, assuring there was no cum left dripping out of you uncomfortably before picking you up carefully and taking you to the bathroom, setting you on the toilet and leaning against the wall as you went, crossing his arms and looking at the ceiling to give you some privacy. “Was I too rough?” He asked quietly as you tugged toilet paper off the wall and wiped gently to avert the soreness.

“No” you replied simply and stood, flushing and going to wash your hands. He wrapped his arms around your waist, carefully lifting your breast to observe his last name inked into your skin in the mirror.

“Y’sure?” He ran his middle finger over it, your nipple becoming hard at the action.

“M’sure. Can you feed me cake now?” You asked, shutting the sink off and drying your hands before padding back to bed, laying on your stomach. He laid the cool towel, before the bag of ice over your bum that felt like it was on fire and you groaned softly.

“Mm- thank you” you rested your cheek on your forearm as he sat, holding a chocolate strawberry to your lips. “So what really got you all worked up?” You asked, opening your mouth and taking a bite of the sweet and sour berry.

“Some dipshit lady realized I f’got the stupid apple granite.”

Fin

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Ava Gardner (The Killers, The Barefoot Contessa)— She's so goddamn hot. Her and Frank Sinatra could've sandwiched me and I would've thanked them for the privilege

Dorothy Dandridge (Carmen Jones, Porgy and Bess, Island in the Sun)— The first Black actress to ever be nominated for best actress, Dorothy Dandridge was a groundbreaking actress who deserved better. She started her career as a singer, being put in a song-and-dance duo with her sister by their stage mother, and singing in soundies (I highly recommend cow cow boogie, it's adorable), proto-music videos. She started appearing as a featured singer in films. Her star was on the rise and she soon became a star solo performer. She continued acting, but had limited options because she refused to do stereotypical roles. She finally landed a starring role in Bright Road in 1953, but it was the movie Carmen Jones that truly cemented her as a star and sex symbol. Not to sound cheesy, but she literally sizzles on screen. You can't help but understand how poor Harry Belafonte gets caught in her trap, just look at her. This is the role that got her that Oscar nom. She didn't win cause I mean #OscarsSoWhite, but she was a sensation and continued starring in films, despite troubles in her life (including a shitty director bf who fucked with her career and a traumatizing pregnancy/delivery). Outside of her filmwork, she was also an activist, fighting against racism. She left behind an amazing legacy, and continues to inspire many actresses to this day (including also very hot first (and only) black woman to win best actress, Halle Berry).

This is round 4 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Ava Gardner:

Ava Gardner is one of my favorite actresses of all time. Although a lot of her roles in movies are about her being beautiful and nothing else, there are some films where her acting truly shines.

Gifset: https://www.tumblr.com/pelopides/721438308726603776/ava-gardner-as-pandora-reynolds-pandora-and-the

Gifset 2: https://www.tumblr.com/portraitoflestatonfire/731899355804598272/if-the-loustat-reunion-doesnt-look-like-this-then

HER FACE. LOOK AT IT. Also was a life long supporter of civil rights and a member of the NAACP, had lots of fun love affairs with other stars, bullfighters, married several times but was also happy in between to just have lovers and was unapologetically herself.

I literally gasp every time I see her.

Between 1942 and 1964, Ava Gardner was credited in no less 50 films, and is still considered by some to be the most beautiful actresses that ever graced the silver screen. Despite life-long insecurities regarding her talent as an actress, she weathered public scandal, industry hostility, and outright condemnation by the Catholic Church with fearless grace. She would later in life talk candidly about the reality and pain of living through two (studio approved!!) abortions during her short marriage to Frank Sinatra, and while the two of them could not make their relationship work, they remained in each other’s lives for nearly 30 years. She would forever describe herself as a small-town girl who just got lucky, but always felt like a beautiful outsider.

Really genuinely one of the most beautiful human beings I have ever seen. An autodidact. Had amazing chemistry with Gregory Peck to the point where I do think about watching On The Beach again sometimes because they're so good together even though that movie did destroy me. Was a great femme fatale in many movies.

Dorothy Dandridge propaganda:

Beautiful actress and hand-working and talented singer, she's especially notable for the number of firsts she accomplished such as the first African-American woman to receive a nomination for the Academy Award for Best Actress and the first African-American woman to appear on the cover of Life magazine.

Dorothy Dandridge was a classic Hollywood triple threat, singing, dancing, and acting with the best of them. She was the first African American nominated for an academy award for Best Actress for her role in Carmen Jones and she was just jaw-droppingly beautiful.

this og of black film needs no introduction (star on the hollywood walk of fame anyone?), voice of an angel, heavenly features, just an overall stunning lady :)

Look at her!!! She is so unbelievably charismatic in Carmen, it’s insane. Her chemistry with Harry Belafonte is off the charts, and every time she puts another outdoor [sic] on it’s like ‘oh god this is a whole new level of stunning’ 🥵. She was so so talented, when she’s on screen I genuinely dare you to tear your eyes away from her. Deserves to be known so much better but due to Hollywood racism and a tough personal life she didn’t make it as big as she should have done. She’s incredible.

First Black actress to be nominated for the Oscar for Best Actress! Was the first choice for the role of Cleopatra that went to Elizabeth Taylor (we were ROBBED).