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ranikyani · 4 days ago

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You Don’t Know My Name

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black Reader MDNI.

Summary: Terry comes into your diner every. single. day. He don't even know what he's doing to you. Or does he?

Word count: 6.4k. This is a one shot with no planned sequel.

A/N: Got this idea the tiktok from the mufasa premiere... (yall know which one I'm talking about)

You enter the diner at 6 am sharp, the rising sun hasn’t even started lighting the morning sky just yet. As always, you start the coffee, unlock the back door for the delivery drivers, and set off to work. In the back of your mind you hear your best friend cussing you for having the doors unlocked knowing you’ll be alone for at least 20 minutes before your coworkers start showing up. But in a busy city like this, the yns are still sleep, and anyone awake at this hour is too focused on their own hustle to rob you.

The night crew, per usual, has done a shitty job closing. You wipe down tables, and do another sweep of the floor, finding balled up napkins from last night’s patrons wedged along the floor where the metal trim of the booths meets the piano stick tile on the floor. Grabbing the mop, you make a mental note to ask your manager Natalie, Who closed last night?

One by one, your coworkers filter in as you continue to prep and refill the condiment stations. Marcus and Sydney stroll in exactly 5 minutes apart just as they did yesterday, and the day before that. They think no one else in the morning crew can tell they’re together, but you can, and they’re doing a terrible job hiding it. You just don’t care enough to say anything and blow their spot. Then comes Natalie, looking like she just rolled out of bed but still managing to somewhat look put together. You both exchange a quick hello and she starts wiping down the counters picking up where you left off. Alicia is the last to arrive, much later than the rest, breezing through the door with her signature braids underneath her hair net.

“Hey, you’re early today,” she teases as if you aren’t always the first to arrive, tossing her jean jacket on the employee coat rack.

“Had to get the place ready for all my customers,” you reply with a smirk, knowing full well it’s just you, her, and one other waiter for the early shift. Every time the other servers call themselves “helping” you set up booths before opening, your customers end up complaining about something missing or out of place, it’s just easier to do it yourself.

You finish making sure the tables look good and walk the perimeter of the diner to ensure everything is set. At 7 o’clock on the dot, just as you’re putting the finishing touches on the napkin dispensers, you hear the soft jingle of the doorbell.

It’s him.

Terry Richmond.

Alicia leans over the counter to you, her voice low and amused, “Here comes your man”

A Man. In every sense of the word.

As a regular, Terry knows the drill. The hostess doesn’t bother seating him or giving him the standard greeting of offering today’s specials, she just smiles as he heads straight for your section like he does every morning. The other waiters learned long ago, don’t even try it. He’s yours, unspoken amongst you but understood by all.

The air thickens as soon as the door closes behind him, like everyone in the diner is holding their breath. You can hear the other women stifle their sighs, trying not to moan at the sight of him. Everyone in the room freezes for a moment, drawn to him without even meaning to. Even Marcus who doesn’t pay anything but his latest kitchen experiment any mind, glances up for a moment. You’ve seen Terry a hundred times at this point, but each time feels like the first. He moves through the dining area with the kind of confidence that just fills a space without trying. His eyes sweep over the room, scanning each face and offering a light smile and the occasional ‘hello’, but when they land on you. They stay there.

You can feel the weight of his gaze as it meets yours and unlike every other woman in the diner gawking, frozen in place while admiring him, you try to keep busy offering a small smile in return. You try to focus on what you were doing, but you can’t help it. Terry Richmond has that effect. The man commands attention.

He gives you a small nod and takes his usual spot in your section peeling his tan carhartt detroit jacket off of his broad shoulders before sitting down. He sits down, newspaper in hand, breaking eye contact and giving you just enough time to gather your composure. He doesn’t need to ask for a menu, he’s been here enough to know exactly what he wants. You approach his table, trying to keep your cool and softly smack down a stack of napkins you know he’ll need once his meal arrives.

“Good morning, the usual?” You ask while pouring hot black coffee from the steel carafe into a mug you’ve sat down for him as well.

“Yes Ma’am” he responds eagerly, looking up briefly from the morning paper to flash you that beautiful smile. It’s striking how his serious, focused expression as he reads today’s current events, contracts with the warm smile he gives when flashing every tooth in his mouth. It’s too captivating, that smile should come with a fucking warning label.

You make your way back to the kitchen to give the staff Terry’s order ticket being mindful of each step you take in your chef crocs, just in case he’s watching. You don’t want him to catch you slipping, literally, the floor behind the counter gets dangerous. His order is simple, a classic diner breakfast, 2 scrambled eggs, no cheese, double turkey bacon instead of sausage, and a side of well-done breakfast potatoes with extra bell peppers and onions. You try not to think too much about the man in your booth, but he’s hard to ignore, the way he looks at you with that quiet intensity in his eyes, the way his muscles flex with a motion as simple as flipping to the next page of the paper, the way his thick thighs and ass fill out the cargo pants he always chooses to wear, the way he always sits with his legs wide open to accommodate the size of that dic-

No.

Shaking it off, you turn your attention to the other customers, who’ve started tickling in to grab a little something before they head off to work as well. You check on them, make small talk, and go around to refill drinks well before they’re half way empty, anything to keep yourself distracted. The kitchen hums behind you, and the familiar buzz of the diner settles your nerves, for a moment.

Ding.

You jump slightly as the bell above the kitchen door rings, signaling Terry’s order is ready. You grab the plate quickly, making sure everything is just right before you head back to his booth carrying his plate and the coffee filled carafe with quick and practiced motion. You gently sit his plate down and refill his coffee silently, no need for small talk, just get it done and move on.

As usual, his debit card is sitting face down on the table, the numbers hidden from other guests passing by, just waiting for you to slip it into your apron pocket. You’ll charge him and bring his receipt as soon as he’s done eating, making sure he’s out the door and on his way to work. It’s an effective system the two of you came up with to keep things moving, so he never ends up late, even if the register backs up.

You walk back behind the counter, but your gaze lingers on Terry as he digs into his meal. There’s something almost mesmerizing about the way he eats, the way his jaw flexes with each chew. Jesus. Its too much and its too early.

His strong hands grip the fork, it looks so tiny in comparison to his paws, and your mind wanders, imagining those hands on you. How he could hurt you but he’d never do that unless you said please.

His lips part with each bite, just enough to make you wonder what those lips would feel like pressed against yours, or what they’d taste like covered in your essence if he’d just eat you out, ask you out.

Then, as he’s taking a bite of his potatoes a small drop of ketchup builds on the corner of his mouth. Instinctually, his tongue flicks out swiftly to lick it clean. The motion is so smooth, so effortless, it takes everything in you not to gasp. He’s a serious eater, you can just tell you’ve always had a knack for being able to smell a munch from a mile away.

As if he’s a mind reader, just as you take a step forward, tempted to let him know you’d like to find out what that mouth do, he looks up from his plate toward you forcing you to pull it together. Immediately losing the courage your trance bestowed that had you about to head his way, you leap forward in to pour more coffee from your carafe in Mr. Johnson’s cup in an attempt to look busy.

Does he even know my name? You wonder

He occasionally glances out the window, constantly assessing new customers entering the building through the side ramp. Every subtle shift of his muscles beneath the dark shirt he’s wearing is a reminder of just how well put together he is.

Damn.

The way he carries himself, the strength in every movement, he’s dangerous, and you want to be in danger.

You can’t stop thinking about it, and you lick your lips imagining how he’d feel under your hands as you rode him until the cows came home, or until he came, at least twice.

You can almost feel the heat of his skin, as if you’re sitting with him right now, the weight of him pressing you into the corner of the booth, his breath hot against your neck as he leans in…

Your breath hitches, and you dart to the other end of the counter taking newfound interest in the salt shakers to break the spell before your thoughts get too filthy. You’re supposed to be working.

Flustered, and seeing as though you just filled them this morning, you turn toward the kitchen, the heat in your cheeks evidence of the unholy fantasies you’re trying to suppress fighting to break free.

As Terry’s plate nears empty you head to the machine and punch in the total with practiced ease. $15.87 same as always and swipe his card into the machine. You grab a tray and a pen, ready to return to the booth with his card and receipt, but your chest feels tight. The thoughts you’ve been thinking swirling around in your head.

Ask him out, your inner voice tells you.

You make your way closer with your heart beating a little faster than usual. This isn’t the first time you’ve caught yourself fantasizing about him, but this time feels different. You’ve been making excuses every time he comes in to avoid this moment, but today? You can’t ignore the pull of your attraction to him any longer. You’ve had enough.

“Uh… Mr. Richmond?” you say, your voice coming out softer than intended.

You can’t stop your hands from nervously fiddling with the edge of his card, and you try your best to focus. You can do this.

He looks up at you, those beautiful green eyes meeting yours, but he notices your hands fidgeting and assumes there’s a problem with his payment. He shifts his weight to his right hip and leans forward to reach into his back pocket and pull out his wallet.

“I keep my card locked up,” he explains casually, his deep voice steady, “just to stay safe. Had someone try to run a $800 charge at a Home Depot in Texas last week. I ordered a new card but I’m still a little annoyed about it.” He chuckles, running a hand forward over his waves “I swore I unlocked it, though.”

You smile at his explanation, but you're distracted by the way his perfectly manicured and never dirty hands move with precision regardless of what he’s doing. And wonder how they would feel inside of you.

He pulls a crispy $50 bill from his wallet, his fingers causing the paper to crumple under his touch, and hands it to you with a small smirk.

“I’ve got money, I swear” he states with a playful glance.

“Oh, it went through Mr. Richmond,” you say, placing his money back on the table.

“Here’s your receipt, just sign at the bottom. The extra copy is for you, sir.”

His gaze lingers on you for a moment longer than necessary, as if weighing something in his mind.

"I would've stayed here with you and washed all the dishes, I could’ve taken out the trash too to work off my meal, but then I’d definitely be late for my first patrol. I’m working a double shift today."

You swallow hard, feeling heat creep up your neck as you think of this man carrying all the discarded boxes out back. Shirtless… Sweaty…

Focus! You tell yourself. Don’t back out now.

“Shame. I would have definitely found something for you to do” you blurt before you can stop yourself, the words just slipped out.

That is not what you were planning to say.

His brow furrows slightly, a confused look flickering across his face. “What was that?” he asks

“Oh… Nothing…I just meant…” you pause to gather your thoughts but before you can find your words, the sound of raised voices outside rip through the calm atmosphere inside the diner.

You glance out the window to see two familiar regulars, both younger men, standing on the ramp outside of the window arguing. It’s hard to make out their muffled voices and determine what the fight is about but it’s clear they’re not backing down.

“Excuse me,” he says, heading for the door.

Without a second thought, Terry stands up, his broad shoulders shifting under his shirt as he moves toward the door. His body seems to take up more space with each step, and the yelling outside grows louder once he cracks open the glass door to walk outside.

From where you're standing, you can see him step between the two men, his movements smooth, deliberate, like he’s done this a hundred times before. There’s a quiet authority in the way he stands, clasping his hands in front with his feet shoulder length apart, something you’ve only ever seen in action movies, where the hero arrives to save the day. His eyes narrow with a cold, unspoken warning, something raw and powerful that says, Fuck around and find out.

He mutters something to the men, just loud enough for them to hear. You can’t make out the words, but the effect is instant and they stumble back, silenced, cowed by the sheer force of his presence.

Still by the booth, you watch, captivated, as he commands the scene and sends them on their way with nothing more than a steady gaze and his natural poise. His stance is solid, unwavering. And you? You're breathless, caught in the magnetic pull of him, every inch of him exudes power and complete control.

When Terry returns to the booth, the energy you had mustered to ask him out seems to dissipate in the air. Does he not realize what he’s doing to you? He doesn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he does and just doesn’t mind as long as you keep making sure his order is always correct. With a softened expression he leans down on the table reaching for the pen you’d sat down in the tray earlier and pulls out a business card from his wallet. The name Terry Richmond is printed neatly in bold professional lettering but it’s the scribble he writes on the back that catches your breath.

His hand moves fluidly as he writes, the thick veins that travel up his arm twitching as his finger flex and grip your pen. Oh, what you would do to be a pin right now. Terry writes his personal number on the card and then adds his signature to the restaurant receipt before placing your pen neatly back in the tray.

“Just in case,” he says, his voice low and steady with a half smile that makes your pussy flutter; again.

His hand brushes yours and the touch alone tightens every muscle in your core. You glance at the card and stand frozen for a moment just staring up at him towering over you, your heart skittering in your chest. You can barely breathe as you look into his eyes, those green depths making you feel like you’re drowning.

“See you tomorrow” he says and then pulls his jacket on in a swift motion. You watch him walk toward the door, the familiar ding of the bell echoing in his wake. And just like that, he's gone.

For a second longer, you stand there, card still in hand, too stunned to move but the buzz of the kitchen quickly brings you back. Almost mechanically you go to clear his table. As you reach for his empty plate your eye catches the $50 bill folded neatly next to the receipt and the handwritten note he’s added to the bottom.

Something extra. For always taking care of me :)

“He obviously wants you. Just call him.” Alicia says later, breezing past you with an order of steak and eggs in hand.

“I am not calling him,” you hiss, dodging the swinging kitchen door before it smacks you.

“Well, that’s what I would do,” she shoots back, tucking a bottle of A1 steak sauce under her arm.

“I wouldn’t even know what to say…” You trail off thinking of all the ways you could embarrass yourself if he did answer the phone. Or even worse if he didn’t and you left a cringy voicemail. Evidence of your lust and desire.

“Then text him!” she calls over her shoulder heading to her table.

You want to argue, but she has a point. Still, the thought of texting him sends a wave of anxiety through you. What do you even say? What if he doesn’t respond?

The card burns a hole in your apron pocket, daring you to pull it out and make a move.

Your finger hovers over the send button, and with a deep breath, you tap it before you can second-guess yourself.

You: 9:12 AM Hey this is y/n, the waiter from your favorite diner 😊

Delivered.

Now all you can do is wait, you say to yourself, but your phone buzzes back as you go to slide it back into your apron.

Terry: 9:13 AM Is everything okay? You: 9:13 AM Yes! All good here. I just wanted to text you so you'd have my number Terry: 9:14 AM Received.

“Received!? That’s all he said?” you groan, dragging the word out as you swipe a hand across your forehead in a futile attempt to calm your nerves.

“That’s it. Imma just leave it there and back out now so that way I don’t get my feelings hurt” you tell Alicia, reciting the exchange to her as she refills coffee at the counter.

“No, y/n… This is when you lean in, full throttle!” she shouts causing a few patrons to look your way.

Her sudden outburst scares one of your regulars, a janitor who works at the school across the street.

“Sorry Mr. Johnson,” she mutters, grabbing a rag to wipe up the splash of coffee spilled on the counter when he jumped.

You sigh, shaking your head at her antics, but her words echo in your mind. Lean in. Full throttle.

You: 9:18 AM Hi Terry, I know girls don’t usually do this, but I wanted to take a chance anyway. You’ve been coming into the restaurant everyday, and I just had to let you know, I think you’re really handsome. I’d love to grab coffee or a drink with you sometime, away from the diner. I promise I look different outside of my uniform. I know you’re very busy but what do you say?

Terry: 9:19 AM What time do you get off? You: 9:20 AM 12 pm right before the lunch rush Terry: 9:20 AM Ok, You free tonight?

You hesitate for a second, caught off guard, but in a good way.

You: 9:21 AM Yes. I thought you were working a double? Terry: 9:21 AM I’ll leave early. Be ready at 6. Can I pick you up from home, or do you want me to text you details where to meet? You: 9:22 AM I wasn’t expecting you to say yes so quickly... but I’m glad you did. I’ll be ready at 6. You can pick me up, here's my address: Terry: 9:22 AM Ok, It's a date. Terry: 9:23 AM I think you look beautiful in your uniform by the way.

After work, you stumble into your apartment, exhausted but jittery with anticipation. A date. With Terry Richmond. The thought makes your heart race. The clock reads 2:15.

Plenty of time.

You set an alarm for 4 and flop onto the couch, hoping a quick nap will energize you and calm your nerves.

When the alarm blares, you jolt awake, heart pounding with excitement and a new resolve. Tonight, you’re going for what you want.

You stretch, still groggy but fueled by anticipation, and drag yourself to the bathroom. The hot shower is a necessary reset, the steam curling around you as you let the water cascade over your skin. You take your time lathering your body with a vanilla-scented cleanser that leaves your skin soft and warm.

After toweling off, you reach for your favorite shea body butter, scooping a generous amount into your palms. The rich, creamy texture melts into your skin as you rub it in, taking extra time to smooth it over your arms, legs, and collarbone. You breathe it in, letting it ground you, remind you to enjoy every moment your afternoon.

You slip into a pair of fitted jeans that hug your ass just right, pairing them with your favorite oversized sweater. Comfortable, effortless, but still intentional. A swipe of gloss, a touch of mascara, and by the time you finish your makeup, the clock reads 5:45.

Outside, you hear the unmistakable rumble of Terry’s truck. Your pulse jumps. He’s early. Of course, he is. Everything about that man screams prompt. But instead of coming right up he waits outside and 10 minutes later, your phone buzzes.

Terry: 5:55 PM I'm outside. Coming up now.

At exactly 6:00 PM, you doorbell rings, the chime echoing through your quiet apartment. You take a deep breath, smoothing your hands over your outfit one last time before opening the door with a playful, sing song

"Hiiii, Terryyyyy."

He stands there, a bouquet of flowers in one hand and that easy, confident smile on his face that always makes your stomach flutter.

"Hey, baby," he says, his voice warm and smooth.

"Oh? I'm 'baby' already?" you tease, raising an eyebrow as you take the flowers from him, their sweet floral scent fills the air and you step aside to let him in.

"Good, because I actually have a confession to make," you say, your voice steady but your hands trembling slightly as you set the bouquet on the counter. The words feel heavy on your tongue, but you push through, determined to say what you've been holding back for weeks.

“Go on,” he replies, his voice low and steady, instantly grounding you as he takes a seat at one of your barstools. His eyes never leave yours, and you can feel the weight of his gaze, like he’s already reading between the lines.

“I don’t actually want to go out,” you state matter-of-factly, cool as a cucumber on the outside. But on the inside? Your heart feels as if it’s about to explode, each beat thundering in your ears.

His brow quirks slightly, but his expression remains calm, unreadable.

“What do you want to do then?” he asks, his tone innocent, but you know better.

The way his eyes darken, the slight tilt of his head… he’s already figured it out.

He’s just waiting for you to say it.

You swallow hard, your throat suddenly dry. “I just... I really like you. I admire the way you carry yourself. Not a lot of guys move like they would actually even know what to do with a woman. I don’t even date because it just doesn’t seem worth the time, you know? But I don’t want you to think I’m…”

“You grown. We grown,” he says simply, his calm reassurance melting your nerves. His voice is like a balm, soothing the edges of your anxiety.

“Say it,” he cuts in, his voice soft but firm, like he’s coaxing the truth out of you. “Tell me what you want.”

Your breath hitches, and for a moment, the room feels too small, the air too thick. But then you meet his gaze, and something in his eyes gives you the courage to speak.

“I want you to fuck me,” you say, your voice steady but soft, the words hanging in the air between you like a challenge.

Terry cocks his head slightly, a mischievous smile playing at his lips.

“Come on, baby. You can do better than that. Say it again.”

Your cheeks flush, but you don’t look away.

“I want you to fuck me,” you repeat, louder and more sure this time, your voice carrying a confidence you didn’t know you had.

“There she is,” he breathes out, his tone is warm and laced with immense pride. The way he says it sends a shiver down your spine, and you feel a rush of heat pooling low in your stomach. And the longer you hold his gaze without cowering away the more his grin widens. He breaks eye contact first, pulling out his phone and handing it to you.

“This is my MyChart,” he says, his voice casual, like this is the most natural thing in the world.

You blink in surprise but unlock your own phone, pulling up your most recent results as well. Terry glances up at you from behind your screen, a teasing glint in his eye.

“If this was your plan, why’d you even bother getting dressed, mama?”

You smirk, locking his phone and setting it on the counter.

“Just in case you said no.”

“I’d never say no to you, y/n,” he says, his voice low and certain. The space between you feels electric, charged with an energy that makes your skin tingle.

You grab his hand, lacing your fingers together “Come with me,” you say softly, tugging on his hand gently.

Terry doesn't need to be told twice. He stands and squeezes your hand, letting you take the lead as you guide him toward your bedroom. The air between you is heated with anticipation, every step heightening the tension. Once inside, you turn to face him, and before you can second guess yourself, you're pulled into the kiss you've been waiting on for weeks. A kiss that make your knees weak and as his hands slide down to your waist pulling you closer you wrap yours around his waist to hold him tightly.

As your lips part briefly, you tug at the hem of his shirt, your breath coming faster.

"Take this off," you say, your voice edged with urgency.

Terry grins, his green eyes smoldering as he yanks the shirt over his head and tosses it aside. Your gaze rakes over his chest and broad shoulders, and you can’t help but touch him, your palms trailing over the hard lines of his muscles.

“You're unreal,” you murmur, almost to yourself.

"Is that right?” he teases, his voice rough with desire as his hands slide under your sweater.

“Don't get a big head now,” you quip, but the words dissolve into a sharp inhale as his hands move over your bare skin.

“Too late for that,” he says, lifting your sweater off in one swift motion. The way his eyes darken as they take you in sends a shiver down your spine.

He hovers over you, his lips trailing along your jaw and down your neck, each kiss igniting your skin. You arch into him, your fingers exploring the expanse of his back, pulling him closer, deeper.

When you tug at his belt, your fingers bold and eager, Terry lets out a deep, approving sound that vibrates against your lips.

“You’re not wasting any time, huh?” he murmurs, his eyes locking with yours.

“No. I should've told you how I felt the first day you came in,” you reply breathlessly, your confidence building with every touch.

He grins, his hands slipping under your thighs as he lifts you effortlessly. You wrap your legs around his waist, and he carries you to the bed, his lips never leaving yours. The way he lays you down, slow and deliberate, sends a thrill through you.

“Terry,” you whisper, your voice trembling with need.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs against your skin, his words a promise.

He kisses his way down your body, his lips leaving a trail of fire in their wake. When he reaches the waistband of your pants, he looks up at you, his eyes dark with desire.

“You so pretty, baby,” he says, before hooking his fingers into the fabric and pulling them down slowly, savoring every inch of skin he reveals. Once you’re completely bare, he takes a moment to just look at you, his gaze roaming over your body like he’s memorizing every curve.

“Perfect,” he murmurs, and the way he says it makes your heart skip a beat.

"I'm proud of you for speaking up," he says looking up at you from in between your legs with direct eye contact.

Then he lowers his head, his breath warm against your inner thigh as he places a soft kiss there. You shiver, your fingers tangling in the sheets as he moves closer, his lips brushing against your most sensitive spot.

“Terry,” you gasp, your back arching off the bed as he licks a slow, deliberate stripe up your center. He hums in approval, the vibration sending a jolt of pleasure through you.

He takes his time, savoring you like you’re the most exquisite thing he’s ever tasted in his life. His tongue circles your clit, teasing and tormenting, before he sucks gently, drawing a moan from deep within you. His hands grip the back of your thighs, holding you open as he devours you, each lick and flick of his tongue driving you closer to the edge.

“You taste so good,” he murmurs against your lower lips, his voice rough with desire. “Hmmm, I could do this all night.”

You whimper, your hips lifting off the bed as he slides a finger inside you, curling it just right.

“Terry, please,” you beg, your voice breaking as the pleasure builds, threatening to overwhelm you.

He adds another finger, and now you know exactly what his fingers feel like inside you. His pace is steady and relentless as he continues to lick and suck at your clit. The combination of his mouth and fingers is too much, your body arches off the bed and your thighs clamp around his head instinctively, as the sensation of cumming on Terry's lips leaves you trembling and breathless.

Terry doesn’t stop, drawing out your orgasm until you’re gasping for breath, your hands clutching at the sheets. Only then does he pull back, looking up at you with a satisfied smile.

“You’re so beautiful when you cum for me,” he says, his voice filled with awe.

"This is better than I imagined," you whisper , staring at the ceiling, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath

"Been imagining me, huh?" he teases, his voice dripping with amusement.

You’re too spent to respond, your body still humming with the aftershocks of your orgasm. Terry kisses his way back up your body, his lips soft and gentle against your skin. When he reaches your lips, he kisses you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

“You ready for me?” he asks, his voice low and rough, and you nod, your body already craving more.

"Say it out loud y/n.. Say 'Yes'"

"Yes"

He positions himself between your legs, his eyes locked on yours as he pushes inside you slowly, giving you time to adjust. The stretch is delicious, and you moan while nails digging into his back as he fills you completely.

“Fuck, you feel amazing,” he groans, resting his forehead against yours as he starts to move, his thrusts slow and deep.

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer as you move together, your bodies perfectly in sync. The room fills with the sounds of your moans and his low steady groans, the air thick with the scent of sweat and desire.

“I wish you could see how pretty you look right now,” he says, his voice soft but filled with awe.

Terry’s rhythm is relentless, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. His hands grip your hips firmly, guiding you as you move together, your bodies perfectly in sync. The sound of skin against skin fills the room, mingling with your breathless moans and his deep voice. Reaching down, he uses his thumb to circle your clit, and you can’t help but tighten your walls around him.

"That's it, baby" he murmurs against your neck "Just like that. Let me hear you"

You moan, throwing your head back deeper into the pillows as your hands grip his shoulders. His muscles flex under your fingertips.

"Terry," you cry out, your voice breaking once again as pleasure surges through you.

"I'm right here," he coos, coaching you on, "You're doing so good baby."

His words are meant to ground you and keep you present but your mind won't stop racing.

The quiet ones are always the freakiest, you think, biting your lip to stop yourself from laughing at your own thoughts. You’ve gotten everything you wanted, and it’s better than you ever imagined. Definitely didn’t see this on your bingo card when you opened the restaurant this morning. Terry is constantly talking in your ear as he thrust, but you’ve been paying him only half your attention. Everything feels too good… his voice, rich, velvety, and impossible deep. Wrapping around you like a magic spell pulling you deeper into the moment. Is he the voodoo man?

"Focus, baby" he says, slowing his movements and forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes are dark with desire but there's something else there too, something soft

"I need you here with me. Can you do that?"

You nod, then immediately correct yourself and respond "Yes," verbally before he can say anything else.

If he keeps talking to me like this, you think to yourself, I’m getting pregnant.

“Turn over,” he murmurs, his voice rough with desire, and you don’t hesitate. You roll onto your stomach, your heart pounding as you feel him shift behind you. His hands slide up your back, tracing the curve of your spine before gripping your hips again. He pulls you up onto your knees, and you brace yourself wrapping your hands around the pillows at the head of your bed for support.

When he enters you again it’s from behind where the angle his tip can reach is deeper and more intense. You gasp, your head falling forward as pleasure ripples through you.

“That’s it, baby,” he says, his voice a low growl in your ear. “Take it... You feel so good.”

“Yesssss,” you moan, matching his rhythm and rocking against him, the sensation overwhelming.

“Use me, baby. You’ve been working so hard, you deserve this,” he says, his voice a low rumble that sends a jolt of heat through you.

His hands roam all over your body, one hand glides up your side, before sliding around to cup your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple in a way that makes you gasp. The other hand trails down your back, his touch firm yet reverent, before finally tangling in your hair. His fingers twist gently into your braids and he tugs just enough to guide you upright. Your back presses against his chest, his warmth enveloping you as his other hand slides around your waist, holding you steady. His fingers find your clit and circle it with just the right amount of pressure.

“Terry… I … Oh God,” you stammer, your words dissolving into a moan as he picks up the pace, his thrusts becoming harder, faster.

“You close?” he asks, his voice strained but steady, and you nod frantically, unable to form any coherent words.

"I've got you," he murmurs. His voice is steady and grounding even as his thrust grow more urgent. His hand in your hair tightens slightly, his grip possessive yet tender.

“Let go, baby. I’ve got you.”

His words push you over the edge, and you cum with a moan loud enough that you're certain to get you a noise complaint in the mail. Your body swivering as waves of pleasure crash over you. Terry groans, his rhythm faltering as his grip in your hair loosens, letting go to tighten his hold on your hips instead. His breath comes in ragged bursts, his body trembling with the effort to hold on just a little longer. Without his hold to keep you upright, you collapse forward onto the bed, your arms barely catching you as your face presses into the sheets. Your breath comes in ragged gasps, your body still shaking from the aftershocks of your climax. But even as you try to catch your breath, you’re not done. You throw your ass back against him, meeting his thrusts with what little strength you have left, helping him chase his own release. You can tell he's moments away from spilling inside you.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Terry moans deeply, his breath warm against your neck, sending a shiver down your spine causing you to deepen your arch for him and lift your ass higher in the air. “Y/N…” “Y/NNNNN!” Alicia’s voice snaps through the fog of your daydream. She drags your name out, her tone harsh and sharp, clearly trying to catch your attention since you obviously didn’t hear her the first 5 times she called you. “Bitch! I know you hear me talking to you!” she whispers harshly, her words slicing through the fantasy. You blink rapidly, disoriented, heart still pounding from the scene you’d just imagined. The sound of Alicia’s voice has brought you crashing back to reality, and now you’re frantically scrambling. “Hello! Your customer is asking for you! Stop daydreaming and go see what that fine ass man wants! What’s wrong with you?” “Shit,” you mutter under your breath, snapping into action. You race to the kitchen, heart still racing as you grab Terry’s to-go order, this morning he told you he was working a double and needed to order out. Your hands are a little shaky, but you focus on making his drink, piling on the extras, whipped cream, a generous drizzle of mocha on top of the foam, everything you know will make him smile. Usually, your boss would make you charge extra for the toppings, but today? It’s all on the house. He deserves it. You rush back to Terry’s table, fully aware that the man runs on a tight schedule. You can’t afford to keep him waiting. “Here you go, Mr. Richmond,” you say, your voice quick but sincere, your words stumbling over themselves with a hint of nervous energy. “Sorry about the wait. I threw in a hot chocolate for you, and your receipt is in the bag. Again, really sorry about that. Have a great day!” Terry looks up from the newspaper with that easy, effortless grin of his. He doesn’t seem phased by the wait at all. “Eh, no worries,” he responds coolly, waving off your apology with a smile “You can call me Terry… What’s your name again?” Your heart skips a beat at the sound of his voice saying your name, and you quickly recover, offering a smile as you introduce yourself.

Extra A/N: Still recovering from the Flu so pls excuse any errors! This story takes place in a universe where niggas don't drink hot chocolate with catfish dinners at lunch time. Can you tell I was catching up on the bear and abbott today? I ended up inserting characters in here lol. On to the recruit & night agent season two ✌🏾. Now that I finally got this idea out of my head I can start my reading back up and try to finish SF Chapter III.

Ok bye 🏃🏾‍♀️💨

Tags: @ovohanna24 @skvrpion @thevelvetwhispers @persethegawd

#raniwrites💌#terry richmond #aaron pierre #x black y/n #terry richmond x black reader #terry richmond smut #x black fem reader #x black reader #aaronpierre #aaron pierre x black reader #rebel ridge #aaron pierre smut #x fem reader

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writers-hes · 2 years ago

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Sydney Saw it First (c. berzatto x reader)

You’re Carmy’s friend from Noma and he asks tou to mentor Marcus before he heads to Copenhagen to stage. Sydney thinks you’re both fools in love and she’s determined to fix it. (fluff, sydney being the best wingman, inspired by the scene in new girl when nick points his shoes to jess, two fools in love)

navigation | main master lists

It was hard for anyone to read if the Carmen Berzatto cared.

Some days, he was loving but most days he was tenacious. It’s not like he meant it. It was just how he was wired; how he reacts to things. The crew learned that the hard way, when he exploded on Marcus, when he screamed at Sydney…when the stress gets to him, it really gets to him.

He’s imposed penance on himself for his actions, secluding himself from the world…being unreachable. If there was one thing in the world that he craved and that he was afraid of, it was love. So he secludes himself until he feels alone. Relationships were unnatural to him.

But it came naturally with you.

You were training to become a pastry chef at Noma when Carmy was there. You met each other at the halls, shared friends that it was inevitable for you two to become friends. He was your first taste tester when you first made croissants. He helped you make your own sourdough starter for the sourdough cookies that you were experimenting on. You were the first person whom he cooked his mom’s picatta. You were his sous chef, helping him prep the vegetables on important dates. When news arrived detailing Mikey’s death, you were the first person he called.

You two were great. You were great.

If anyone deserved praise, Carmy thought that it was you.

He didn’t know why but when he saw that Marcus was really interested in pastry, he called you; asked you to come and teach a really, really eager student that was going to stage in Copenhagen soon. Sydney also suggested that sweets are needed in a restaurant. You didn’t hesitate to board the plane upon his request. If anything, you were glad that he was finally asking you for a favor. It only meant that he was still—if not more—comfortable with you.

You arrived in Chicago all smiles, and greetings. It was Richie and Carmy who picked you up from the airport and Richi was floored. How did his cousin even manage to tolerate you? He didn’t hate you immediately, of course. In any case, Carmy told you about his little girl; you decided to bring her a little gift.

“I didn’t know what to get you but Carmy said that you have a daughter so I got this instead,” you said, extending a toy. “My niece has the same one…so, I figured…”

“Yeah, yeah,” Richie nodded. He muttered a small ‘thanks’ before helping you with you luggage.

The night before, Carmy instructed everyone during family to behave.

“Look, there will be no funny business, alright? My friend is flying in tomorrow to oversee Marcus and act as his mentor while we fix the Bear. No taking her knife away, no screaming, no fighting, no fucking anything, alright, chefs?” he asked. When he was met with silence, “Alright, Chefs?”

A couple of ‘heards’ were thrown.

“Who is this friend, anyway, Jeff?” Tina asked. “You didn’t tell us to behave when Sydney over here first came,”

“Someone from Copenhagen. She, uh—“

“She?” Sweeps asked, his eyebrows raised in anticipation. “You got a girl, chef?”

“No,” he replied. “She studied in Copenhagen as a pastry chef, okay? No big deal—“ he proceeds to mention your name and how you’re just really super cool. “No big deal—“

“Wait, Chef, that’s a big deal!” Marcus said. “Oh, you know her recipes are all over my station, right?” he asked. “Sydney—“

“I went to the place she worked at in New York after I graduated. Everything’s just so…good. Amazing,” she recalled. “So, yes, it’s a big deal,”

“Yeah, whatever. Just promise me to behave, alright?” Carmy asked. “She’ll have to make do with what we currently have but I’ll try to stock up and set up the station before she arrives tomorrow.”

You arrived at the Beef—er, the Bear a day after your arrival in Chicago. You were able to find a place that was near the city center for a good deal. You were here indefinitely, still trying to figure out if you wanted to run your own bakery or just work with others for the rest of your life. Seeing Carmy take the leap was insipiring.

“Hello, chefs, I’m Y/N,” you said, a friendly smile gracing your features. Carmy was right beside you, watching everyone. “I’m a pastry chef and I graduated with Carmy in Copenhagen. I’m here to mentor Marcus but of course, if you have any questions regarding anything, you can ask me. I know how to cook too…and uh, I’ll be taking care of family tonight,”

Carmy jerks from his relaxed position.

“You sure?” he asks softly. “I can take care of family, if you’re too tired.”

“Yeah. It’s like initiation,” you nod, looking at him and then looking back at the new faces in front of you again. “Do you have any questions…”

Sydney raises her hand.

“Um, I’m sorry if this comes across rude but why are you here?” she asked.

“Oh, well, I’m not really tied down to anything right now. When Carmy called me, asking if I could come here, I decided to go. I’m here in Chicago indefinitely and I’ve been receiving invitations to cook, teach a class, whatever. I might accept some of those,” you said. Sydned nodded. Damn, Noma’s chefs were being chased from left and right. She was in the presence of two.

“Do you have a little notebook?” Tina asked, making Sydney scofd. “With recipes?”

“Um, no,” you shook your head. “I keep all my notes in my head and then write it afterwards,” Tina liked you already.

“What do you think about Carmen Berzatto—“

“Anyway, that’s all, Chefs! Marcus, come to the office with me, chef,” Carmy said, breaking up the huddle, and making you laugh. He discreetly pulls down your shirt, a sign that you should follow him too to the office. When you were both out of earshot, Sydney asked no one in particular.

“That girl and Chef? There’s something,”

That afternoon, during family, Sydney watched the two of you like a hawk. Confirming her suspicions when Carmy stayed for family and sat beside you.

Sydney notices it for the second time. You were going over the Noma “picture book” with Marcus, telling him how some of the desserts came about.

“What’s this?” Marcus asked, pointing at a photo of the dessert that put you on the map.

“That’s a dish of candied hallabong peel, with a prosecco peach sorbet, on a bed of meringue, topped with candied cherries. I got it because some of my friends went to Jeju sometime and brought back this orange hybrid. I think….I think we can recreate it but it wouldn’t be the same without the orange.”

“What about the flesh and the juice?”

“I turned it into like an orange-chocolate cake with chocolate mousse,”

Carmy was just passing by but he decided to watch you interact with his employees instead.

“Anyways, where’s your chocolate cake? Let’s taste it and compare it from the last one. Also, I can send you my recipe for sourdough doughnuts. Just give me your email,” you said, looking up briefly to find Carmy already looking at you. It made him feel good to see you incorporate yourself so well in the kitchen. Well, it’s not like the Bear is open but his staff went to you for some tips and advice. They were all undergoing some sort of training to make everything more elevated. “Hey, Carm. Do you need anything?”

“Hey-hey,” he coughed, ashamed for being caught. “Nothing. Uh—“

“Chef, did you ever try Y/N’s stuff?” Marcus asked. He’d really, really, really want to taste something that you made someday. They were all delicate and so detailed. It’s probably why you got multiple awards at such a young age.

“I did. She used to bring big Tupperware containers of things they made in the kitchen,”

“He finished them all,” you told Marcus. “Wouldn’t spare me a bite,”

“I don’t know, bug,” he teased. “I vividly remember you begging me to do it because you were so sick of fucking croissants.”

“You’re so annoying,” you huffed, a playful smile on your face. “Go on now. Marcus and I have stuff to do and you’re distracting us.”

“In my own restaurant,” Carmy mutters, shaking his head. Sydney’s eyes immediately directed to Tina. Did you see? Did you hear the word ‘Bug’?. Tina only shrugged.

Sugar dropped in to check on the improvements being done at the Bear when she saw you and Carmen at the back, talking. She had to double take what she saw because it was quite…odd to see him talk to you with the same twinkle he used to have. She has never seen him like this. He was genuinely laughing at some of the things that you were saying, a shared plate of leftover chocolate cake between the two of you.

“Who’s the girl outside?” Sugar asked, looking at Richie and Sydney for answers.

“Some fancy pastry chef Carmy met in Copenhagen,” Richie replied. “It’s a whole bet now, you know? They’re always out in their own world ever since she got here,”

“Everyone puts in 10 to predict what’s going to happen,” Tina said. “You’re betting?”

“Yeah, sure,” Sugar says, giving a bill to Tina. “I bet…I bet they’ll fall in love right before she leaves Chicago. Like, on the way to the airport. Carmy’s going to tell her that he loves her and she stays,”

Laughter echoes in the room.

“This is not some fucking movie, cousin,” Richie said. “Obviously, Carmy’s not gonna do shit about it.”

“I think…she’ll call him over and they’ll share a moment,” Marcus said. “He’s always at her place, did you know that?”

Meanwhile, unaware of the ongoing bet, Carmy looks at you.

“What do you think about Chicago?” he asked, a cigarette hanging idly on his fingers.

“It’s nice…chilly,” you said. “But it’s nice. I’ve been offered jobs here, you know?”

“Hm?” he asked. “Are you planning to take them?”

“I’m…thinking about them. They’re all the same but like, I want my own bakery, you know? My own place.” you said. “It’s going to be a lot of work if I do that and I don’t necessarily have the staff to do all that.” you said.

“If you want…you can come stay with us if you’re not sure,” he offers. “Like a pastry chef. Actually, I’ll have to ask Sugar and Sydney if it’s alright with them but you can stay here,”

“Bear, I don’t want to impose—“

Sydney was walking outside to throw the trash but she stopped her trackes when she heard you talk.

“I want you here,” Carmy said with conviction. “But if you don’t-don’t like it here in Chicago, I wouldn’t mind either, you know? It’s just that…I want you here and-and fuck, I don’t know. I guess working with you made it so much more fun again, you know? Like us in Copenhagen. I mean, we’re always a team and-and it’s nice to have you here with me. Sugar and spice? Sweet and spicy or whatever the fuck they called us back then,” he chuckled, inhaling his cigarette to calm himself down. “We can make it work,”

“Yeah, yeah. You go talk about it to Nat and Syd,” you said, taking a swig of your water. “And then we’ll talk. Cool?”

“Cool,” he shrugged. Sydney leaves and goes back to where the commotion was.

“I change my scenario,” she said.

“You can’t do that, Sydney,” Richie said. “It’s a bet! You have to pay again,”

Sydney breathed, what was ten more, right? Fuck.

“Fuck, sure, okay. Whatever,” she said, giving Richie the bill. “She’ll stay here. She’ll realize the there’s nothing waiting for her back home and she’ll stay here,”

“Where did you get this?” Fak asked. “Quite—oh my God. Sydney, did you fucking cheat?”

“No, I didn’t fucking cheat!” she defended, it was a lie. “Can’t you see the two of them? Always in their own world? How would Carmy let her go?”

“Jeffrey has a point,” Tina shrugged. “But if she loses, just know that you lost twice, Jeff,”

“I know,”

You, Sydney, and Carm all went to his apartment. It was where the two of them made a menu while you acted as a consultant and a taste tester. Their palates were fucked and they didn’t know what to do or what to cook anymore. So they asked you. But you weren’t there today. You and Marcus were in your apartment, making up stuff for dessert. The Beef has officially closed down and is a rubbled mess. There was no space and Carmy just wanted to be there with you.

“Can I ask you something and you can tell me to fuck off?” Sydney asked while she watched Carmy plate the hamachi crudo.

“Hm?”

“Do you…have feelings for Y/N?” she asked, looking at Carmy. He blushed, his ears turning red for being caught.

“Is it obvious?”

“To everyone but her,” she shrugged.

“Fuck, really? I thought I was being discreet,”

“Oh, you can stay here! You’re so good and so smart and so pretty,” Sydney gushed, mocking Carmen.

“Fuck off,” he laughs. “I…I do,”

“Yeah?”

“I just…just…she’s uh, so amazing, and like, I’ve been feeling these feelings since…since Copenhagen,” he mumbles, finishing the garnish with an oil.

“Damn. You never made a move?” she asked, getting forks. She gives one to Carmen and they both taste the crudo. It was amazing. “That’s good,”

“It is. Good job, Syd,” Carmy replied.

“It was her who told me to try adding jalapeno slices,” Syd said.

“You can’t do that,” Carmy warned her. Why did she want to get you two together so bad? “But I haven’t done anything. I mean, like, she was dating these guys and they’re so cool that-that it was never really my turn,” he remembered.

“But you’re the best chef in the world! That trumps that,” she encouraged. “None of them worked out?”

“No,” Carmy shook his head. “She’d always end things and I don’t want that for myself. She told me none of them worked out…wasn’t what she was, uh, looking for?”

“Oh,” Sydney nodded. “Well, if you’re feeling brave enough…”

“I haven’t been having…fun,” Carmy acknowledges. “With the Beef and the Bear until she got here, you know? Made me feel like I was young in Copenhagen again,”

“Another question. You can say fuck off if you want,” Sydney says and watches as Carmy bites a smile. “The last one. Is that why you asked her to stay? It’s just that I heard you the other day and…”

“Fuck off,” he laughs but Sydney noticed how everything about him conveyed everything that she needed to know.

“This is a quenelle,” you told Marcus. You, Marcus, Carm, and Sydney were at your apartment. It was bigger than Carmy’s and your oven didn’t have jeans in them. “This took me at least a hundred tries,” you chuckled. “You just…away, back, and then hands…” You demonstrated, making a quenelle of a yuzu mousse.

“Damn, Chef. How’d you do that?” Marcus asked, trying it for himself. He failed, his quenelle being a little bit smaller than yours.

“I had a friend named Luca. He didn’t let me out of the kitchen until I made a perfect one,” you recalled. “Carmy was there and he was laughing at me. He could do it in like three tries and I remember hating him,”

“You hate me?” he asked, leaning on the countertop. He didn’t like to hear about Luca. He only wanted you to talk about the two of you.

“Hey, Bear. Try this?” you asked, spooning him the raspberry curd. Carmy opens his mouth and you walk over, feeding him the pinkish liquid and then watching his face. “It goes with a black sesame shell. Do you like it?”

He notices your close proximity and flushes.

“Y-yeah,” he coughed, looking away. “Really good. Uh, very good,”

“No notes?” you asked and he swore he could kiss you right there because you were so beautiful.

“No notes,”

“Thanks, Chef,” you said. Sydney whistles as you help Marcus master his quenelle. Carmy looks at her and she teases him with a mockery of what he just said.

Carmy and Marcus left after cleaning up. You and Sydney decided to have a girl’s night. You were both sitting on the couch, mud masks on your faces when she turned to you fully.

“You know, he likes you right?”

“Who?” you asked, trying to fit a handful of chips.

“Carmy,” you heard and you choked on the bits of chips in your mouth.

“Fuck!” you choked. “Sydney!” You were coughing while Sydney handed you a glass of vodka cranberry. You gulp it down. “You—can’t say shit like that!”

“What?” she laughed. “Look, I’m not kidding! Whenever he talks to you, his feet are pointed at you. I’ve read enough fucking books and body language shit to know that he’s interested,”

“I don’t think so,” you said. “That’s bullshit,”

“It’s not though,” she shrugged. “He asked you to stay for a reason,”

“He needs a pastry chef,” you shrugged. “Besides, he and I are friends, Sydney. I’ve been trying to get him jealous all my time in Copenhagen but he never…he never got the signal,”

“Oh,” Sydney nods. Two idiots in love. “Have you ever tried telling him?”

“Of course not! He’s always on about how he doesn’t have the energy to love or date. I tried the jealousy thing before but it never worked. Trust me, there’s nothing.”

Carmy arrives at your doorstep the next morning, bright and early. Sydney had already left, telling you something about stopping by at her dad’s apartment to get stuff. You were going to the Bear with him to help Sydney choose plates for the restaurant.

“Good morning,” he greets. Two cups of take-out coffee in his hands. “I got us some coffee while we walk on the way,”

“Thank you,” You took the cup from his hands and clutched your jacket tighter. It was so, so, so cold. “Didn’t know it was going to be this chilly today,”

“You wanna wear my jacket?”

“You’ll be cold,”

“It doesn’t bother me,” he said, already taking off the jacket to the best of his one-handed ability. He was only wearing a gray sweater underneath. “I have something. See?” He doesn’t take no for an answer, taking your coffee and your bag from you so you could wear the colorful jacket.

“Thanks, Bear,” you said, smiling at him. The sight of you in his clothes does something to him and he couldn’t help except give you a slight nod before forging on in the chilly Chicago weather.

You both entered the Beef giggling amongst yourselves when the usual buzzing stopped.

“Remember when Luca—“

You halted, finding the silence odd. You looked around to see everyone looking at you.

“What’s wrong? Is something wrong?” Carmy asked, removing his hand from the small of your back. “Syd—“

“Love the sweater,” Richie teases. You look down and feel the warmth on your cheeks.

“It was cold and he asked me to wear it,” you shrugged, leaving Carmen to deal with the staff out front. You were signalling Sydney for help but she only looked away. Traitor. “Um—“

“Y/N, if you could please help me out here,” Carmy called you.

“Your boyfriend’s calling,”

“He’s not!” you huffed before walking over. “What is it?”

“I need you to time me, is that okay?” he asked. He nodded towards the stopwatch and you complied. “Thank you. I just need to check or like, map out the kitchen you know?”

“Of course,” you replied.

“Do you need help getting on—“

“It’s okay it’s just an old thing,” you replied.

“Yo, cousin! If you’re done eye fucking, Sugar needs you.” Richie calls.

“We’re not eye-eye fucking!” you complained. “What the fuck?” You stood up from your corner before you could even work and accidentally looked down. If a man is interested his feet will—

You move to the side and Carmy follows. And then to the side again.

“Y/N–“

“Stay there,” you asked, walking around him and him turning around. “Carm!”

“What?” he asked, grasping your shoulders. He looks down to his shoes. “Are my shoes dirty?”

“No, it’s just—“ you tried again but Carm still followed. “Sydney told me about like, how when a guy is, uh,”

“Cousin!”

“Fuck, okay. Let’s talk about it later okay? Once everyone’s out?” he asked, looking at you. “Can we do that?” His jacket felt softer on you than it ever did on him.

“Yea-yeah,” you nodded. “I’ll go help Sydney,”

The afternoon passed by and you were alone at The Bear. You waited for Carmen to finish up at the dining area like you promised. Your heart was beating so fast, maybe a thousand miles an hour. What Sydney said has been on your mind and what if it wasn’t true and you get embarrassed? Fuck, could you even handle that?

You sighed, burying your head between your hands when Carmy walks over to you.

“What’s up?” he asked. “Everything alright?”

“Y-yeah,” you nod. “Can you stay there and just, I don’t know, be Carmy?” you asked, standing up to test the theory again. He just stands there, dumbfounded. You circle around him and he follows. You were looking on the ground.

“Fuck, what the fuck?” he asked. “Is there something wrong with my shoes? I know they’re old and not—“

“Carmen, shh,”

“What?” he asked, grasping your shoulders for the second time that day to steady you. “What’s wrong?”

“Fuck, I don’t—“

“What’s wrong?”

“Sydney told me that there’s like, this body language thing and like, uh, says that when a guy is interested his shoes are always pointing at you and well, she told me to look at yours,” you rambled, looking away in embarrassment. “Look, if this will be weird between the two of us, I mean—“

“Why would it matter?” he asked, hands inching closer to your neck. He was nervous but maybe this is the opening that he’s been waiting for for years. When you didn’t reply, he asked again. “Why would it matter?”

“Because…because I’ve been trying to make you jealous for years in Copenhagen and it never worked,” you whispered. You were embarrassed. It felt like you were in high school telling your crush that you liked him. “I know you don’t see me that way,” you replied, trying to look for the right words. Carmy lets you finish. He wanted to hear you. “And it’s fine. If this is stupid, let’s forget that this ever happened. Okay? God, I’m so fucking embarrassed right now,”

“Hey, hey,” he cooes, his thumb tucked the hair back and then caressed your cheek. “Whoever said that I wasn’t jealous? I had to leave all the time because I was so fucking jealous. Those guys were cool. Don’t-don’t be embarrassed, okay? I like hearing that-you, uh, like me,”

“Carmy…don’t lie to me, okay? You don’t have to pretend—hm,”

Carmy had just kissed you. Carmen Berzatto just kissed you. You were clutching on his shirt so tightly, afraid that if he lets go, he’ll be gone. But he doesn’t. He just trails his hands down to your back, touching skin to skin until you’re one.

“I’ve been waiting years to do that,” Carmy rasps, breathing heavily.

“Yeah? Then, do it again,” you whispered, smirking slightly at how he seemed to blush hard. Before you could tease him though, he tucks your hair back again, bringing your lips closer to his.

He did.

A/N: Thank you for giving my recent fics so much love and for being so motivating. Your kind words really make my day and I hope that you love this too. Don’t forget to reblog and comment! Thanks again!

TAGLIST: @kpopgirlbtssvt

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmen berzatto #fanfiction #fluff #the bear #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto x you #the bear fic #carmen berzatto fluff #the bear fx

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softly-sirius · 1 month ago

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Are the Bear Staff Jacked and Kind? (Gn)

Currently on shift: Carmen, Luca, Richie, Sweeps, Tina, Sydney, Fak, Mikey, Marcus

TW: Lifting, mentions of weight, I kept this as gender-neutral as possible and tried to stay away from describing the reader's body type or weight, but pls reach out if there's any way I can make this more inclusive or you see anything that is upsetting <3

Thank you @laurenjbb for requesting this, I hope I did it justice! Also thanks to the person who pointed out I was missing Mikey :)

Carmen:

You had to goad him into it

If you straight up ask he’s saying no, but if you say he’s just not strong enough and scared to drop you he is manhandling you so fast.

A smug little grin on his face as he takes a moment to cop a feel of your plush thighs.

“You were saying baby”

You would boast about how strong he is all-day

Taking any chance to squeeze at his arms (and maybe nibble on them a little bit)

He’d be so blushy at the end of the day

Luca:

As soon as Luca sees the first TikTok, he waits for you to bring it up. You’re a sucker for these TikTok trends and he’s lost track of how many you’ve asked him to try out

So he waits

And waits

And what the hell? why are you not asking him to lift you up?

He wonders if you haven’t seen it yet, but then he catches you scrolling through the videos on your phone in bed, so he knows that can’t be it.

What if you think he can’t lift you?

He’s not having that, not at all.

He starts doing ‘casual’ push-ups in the bedroom

Lifting as many heavy things in his arms at once as possible

Not so subtly flexing his arms every time he catches you looking.

Eventually, he just gives up.

He sets it up himself, hiding his phone on the kitchen counter and asking you to come and taste something.

You stand in front of him, searching the counter and finding nothing there for you to taste.

Before you can question it, his hands are on you and he’s lifting you up and up until you are sat on his shoulder, shrieking.

“LUCA!” You’d yell, before you realise exactly what he’s been doing, also realising what all of his weird behaviour has been about.

He watches that video on a loop whenever he misses you, bc he loves hearing your giggle

Richie:

I’m so sorry, but no matter how much you beg and ask there is no chance he is lifting you like that

He is an old man and he will break his back, no matter your size it’s not happening

He won't lift Eva onto his shoulders anymore either

If you goad him about it, you will be called a brat and you will be in for it later

Lowkey turned on whenever you call him your old man

Call him your anything and he’s weak in his old man knees

If this takes place after forks he might let you try to lift him over your shoulder

If you succeed (after forks) he is so excited and gets you to do it again and again in front of everyone.

Smugly talking about how strong his fucking s/o is

But makes you lift so much heavy shit from now on

Fak:

Fak is the one who wants to do it, might not even ask, he’ll just grab you by the waist and hoist you up

Look people might disagree but you think your man is a beefcake, he’s hauling shit around all day!

His strength is not appreciated enough

His grip is iron-tight on your thighs to keep you stable

You’re giggling on his shoulder, stealing his hat and putting it on your head so you can get a hold of his hair

He’ll just walk around with you on his shoulder for a while, just because he can

Sweeps:

Did he just hear a thud?

You get on his shoulder and your head hits the ceiling

Might be taking you to urgent care, but he’s still pretty proud of himself

Sydney:

You both try and lift each other grappling at each other's waists

Too bad Sydney has the worst sense of balance known to man because whether she’s lifting or being lifted you both end up on the floor.

Wants to keep trying because she swears she’ll manage it this time

Swears she won’t lean too far backwards this time

Swears she won’t lift you too far over her shoulder this time so you fall right off

Swears she won’t spin around and take out the lamp this time

You need to buy a new lamp

Mikey:

Have you seen this man?

No matter what you weigh, even if you’re Mikey's carbon copy in stature, this man can lift you like it is nothing

Not only will he lift you onto his shoulder if you ask

He’s lifting you every which way, just to show he can

Just to get you laughing and smiling

Piggyback ride, check

Princess carry, check

Bent over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes, check

Pushed up against the wall, wrists above your head, check

Marcus:

How your sweet, loving partner got so ripped when he eats so many sugared treats you’ll never understand

Can’t say you don’t appreciate it though

I feel like Marcus does this all the time already

Like let's be real, Marcus is probably the best boyfriend you could have

He rarely brings his work shit home and if he does it’s because he knows how much better you will make him feel about it all

So if doing some little lifting trend makes you happy, he’s all for it

I think along with Luca, Marcus is the only other one who sees these trends

Is probably the only one willing to let you upload videos of the two

Might ask you to do the trend together before you do, just to see your excited little grin

You swear he is your dream boy jacked and kind

You remind him off it all night with sweet kisses and wandering hands

Tina

If you ask she gives you The Look

Still Hungry? Here is our Menu:

Would you love me if I was a worm?

Would you peel my orange?

Will you watch Barbie with me?

Wiping off their kisses

#carmen berzatto x reader #richie jerimovich x reader #sydney adamu x reader #carmen berzatto fluff #richie jerimovich imagine #carmen berzatto imagine #sydney adamu fanfic #carmen berzatto x you #richie jerimovich blurb #chef luca x reader #luca the bear x reader #mikey berzatto #mikey berzatto x reader

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astermath · 2 years ago

Text

nemesis; part two.

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

summary: with carmen reworking the restaurant, you’d think his mind would be far too occupied to even think about anything else. yet he can’t shake the guilt from what he’d put you through a month prior. after some talks in therapy, he decides to take a leap of faith and see if he can talk it out with you. he not only wants to convince you that he can be better, but he's got an offer for you too. one you truly can't refuse.

♡ landing page ♡

word count: 4.9K

tags: carmen being unsure about his feelings but trying to be better episode 3265742, letting reader in a little more, APOLOGIES!!!, cursing ig, carm goes to therapy yippee, syd being the absolute realest, regular font below!

notes: sorry this took literally forever omg, I lost my carmen muse for a bit but we are SO back baby. I missed him so much and so sorry if some things don't follow the canon completely (I've been watching season 2 on and off bc I've been so busy lol BUT my fics never follow the canon completely anyways),, hope u guys enjoy and let me know if you'd like a part three ;))

lmk if you'd like to be added to the tag list for further carmen berzatto related content! comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

Carmen’s life hadn’t known a moment of mental rest in ages. If you asked him when he last sat down with his thoughts or acknowledged his mental anguish, he probably would have said he couldn’t remember the last time. If ever.

With plans to completely revamp The Beef and everything that came with it, now his feelings should be the last thing on his mind. Renovation plans, unforeseen costs and a completely new menu, sure, he could worry his ass off about those, but feelings? Absolutely not. Good thing he was usually so good at suppressing those anyways.

So why was it that he couldn’t shake the thought of what he did to you?

Why, every time he had a moment to himself, would he be overtaken by this intense feeling of guilt? He didn’t even have to be alone, just a second of quiet and the image of you crying in distress would intrude on his thoughts.

It was getting to a point where he’d told his sister, Natalie, about it. Well, not all of it, he wasn’t even sure if he knew all of it. Just that he knows he hurt you, and that coming to terms with what he projected onto you might be a good first step in understanding himself better.

Or maybe it was something more along the lines of “I gotta talk my shit to some people”. Probably that.

To his surprise, it was actually helping. Besides the group therapy sessions where he’d talk about Mikey, the business and his future, he was talking to other people in his life too. Even told Sydney about you, kind of on accident. The words just seemed to… Flow out. It was probably the exhaustion doing its thing.

“I guess I just felt like,” he kept his eyes on the floor he was sweeping, “she was doing it all to fuck with me. I don’t even know where I got the sick idea that she had some obsession over me, but it— it drove me at the same time. It’s like her being on my heels at every aspect of culinary school just made me want to try even harder.”

“Maybe you painted her in that light because you knew it was a good way to keep pushing yourself.” Sydney spoke almost absentmindedly, sweeping the other side of the room. She listened to everything he said in the meantime, and though what he was telling her was a bit worrying, she was glad they got to have talks like this. Carmen often doesn’t like to bring up his past like that.

“Huh,” he paused sweeping for a moment, “yeah… yeah, maybe. Or maybe it was something else.”

Sydney wasn’t even sure he knew what he was referring to. It sounded like something entirely different, like a crush, but what kind of person treats their crushes like that?

Probably an overworked, pressured, overachieving culinary student with a dangerous need for validation. But she wasn’t about to tell him that.

“So yeah, I visited her restaurant, and… It just felt the exact same as back in New York, you know? Like she was rubbing it in my face again, and— and I know that sounds insane, or conceited, but I just can’t let it go. It’s like the thought of her is stuck to my brain like a stubborn piece of gum.” He wanted to smack himself for that stupid analogy, but what was said was said.

“So how’d you handle it?” Sydney’s head perked up, some of her braids now draping over her shoulders.

“Handle what?” Carmen became more and more uneasy the more he talked about you. Like his chest was tight, it was uncomfortable, but not in the way he was when the health inspection came by, it was different. Weirder. Unfamiliar. He didn’t like it, because he didn’t understand it.

“The talk with her.” She emptied the last bit of dust into the trash bag.

“Oh,” his mind took him back to the parking lot a month ago. The way he could almost taste the tears of your skin from how close he stood, he could hear the shakiness of your breath and the profound desperation in your voice when you apologized to him, when you really had no reason to.

If it was still so clear in his mind, then what must it be like for you?

“Carmen?” Sydney snapped him out of his oncoming train of thought.

“Yeah? Sorry, I— Uh, I don’t know it was…” He runs a hand through his hair, suddenly finding it in his best interest to look anywhere else but her face. “Bad. It was— It was bad.” He looks a bit shameful when he meets her eyes. “I fucked up. I like, went all New York boss on her. And then I just… Left.”

His colleague just stares at him for a moment. She knew what he was like when he snapped like that, but that was with his staff, people he liked. So how badly did he snap on you, a person he’d been resenting for years?

“I’m gonna go take out this trash, and uh… Head home.” She lifts the grey plastic bag she was holding. “But uh, Carm?”

“Yeah?”

“You got issues, man.” She has a bit of an awkward smile on her face, but he knows she means it. He knows she’s right. She usually is.

He nods, silently, letting her words sink in. He did have issues, everyone knew that, but most people didn’t just say it. That’s why he liked Sydney, she was so real, so honest. She was so good for the business, for the kitchen. And maybe her saying that to him was all part of grounding him in the reality of it all. Of his issues, just that they existed.

“Heard.” he says. His voice comes out raspier than he expected, like he’s struggling to say it.

“Goodnight, chef.”

“Night.”

He’d thought about what Sydney said the entire night. He does have issues, he knows that, he’s just mad at himself for letting everything get this far before seeking help. It scares him. Because it reminds him too much of Mikey. Or what he heard about him when things got bad.

He doesn’t want to make the same mistakes his brother did. Lock people out of his life just because it seems easier, because it’s better to minimize the damage than to figure out why you’re doing damage at all. And yes it’s uncomfortable, yes it’s scary, terrifying even. But he keeps being reminded of how it must feel for you.

It’s something he’d never considered before. He always thought he had you all figured out, all fake smiles and backhanded compliments to distract him. It never occurred to him to just… Ask. It was always just easier to assume. It fit his view of you and it kept him going, even if it was at the expense of ever getting to know you at all.

He’s hoping he can change that with a few text messages and a long, probably uncomfortable, talk over coffee. Just hoping, trying, that’s really all he can do. He’s well aware of how bad he is at communicating, but he has to give it a shot. For you, at least.

He stares at his phone screen for far longer than is necessary, continuously rereading the messages he’d typed. His eyes keep flicking to your contact, making sure he sent it to the right person. The only thing you two had texted about before was a time and place for him to try your new restaurant. His heart aches at the exclamation points and emojis you’d sent; you were so excited, and he drove all that excitement straight into the ground.

He closes his eyes and shuts off the phone. His chest hurts, like he’s been holding his breath the entire time. Maybe he has. You could have that effect on him, making it harder to breathe. He always wondered why he had such nervous reactions around you specifically. He always figured it had to do with your one sided rivalry, but it feels… Different. More complex.

Your eyes are finally peeled off your computer screen when numerous phone notifications alarm you. Truth be told, you’ve been trying your best to keep yourself occupied as much as possible. That usually helps when you get waves of emotions like this, keeping busy, distracting your mind from overthinking.

Ever since your last encounter with Carmen, you’ve been so on edge. Always trying to do something, anything, so you wouldn’t have to think about what happened, why he acted like that to you. Because you know if you did, you’d just start blaming yourself again, and you’d be back to square one.

Your eyebrows raise at the name of the contact. You were sure he’d blocked you, or at least deleted your number after last time. He was avoidant like that, and frankly, you weren’t sure if you wanted him to talk to you again after that anyways. Maybe it was just to drive the point home, make you feel even more worthless.

Still, you were curious. Even if it was just to cuss you out even more, at least you knew what to expect, right?

[carmen]: hey, I really want to talk to you about what happened last time.

[carmen]: well

[carmen]: I want to apologise

[carmen]: but I can’t do that like this

[carmen]: I’d much rather do it in person

[carmen]: if you’d let me

[carmen]: meet me at odette’s tomorrow around 10? coffee’s on me, I just want to talk

[carmen]: please

The last message was sent minutes later than the rest, while you were reading them. He was desperate for an answer, and though you wanted to hear him out, to talk to him, something in you felt off about the whole thing. Like he was just doing this to clear off his own guilt, only to then ditch you just like he ditched you after culinary school. Because you’re rivals, apparently. That’s what you do.

But then there’s something else in you too. The part that’s still nostalgic about New York with him. About the glances back and forth when you were timed on preparing certain things, about the way he’d stare at you when you got feedback, the ignorant bliss you lived in. When you still believed he might have liked you just a little.

That part of you takes the upper hand when you reply and take his offer. Your heart is in your throat, nerves overtaking you already and you weren’t even with him yet. He had that effect on you sometimes, making it harder to breathe.

You wondered what that meant.

Carmen sits alone at a booth, all the way at the back of the café he’d chosen. It’s rather quiet, as most Mondays are, yet at the same time, it’s so loud. Loud in the way he hears the clinking of every spoon against porcelain cups, the crinkling of a napkin and the not so subtle ticking of the clock above the entrance. 10:06. You were late.

Suddenly he's filled with more regret than he's ever felt before. He's not ready to see you again, only to be reminded of how he made you cry, and of his own tumultuous emotions and shortcomings that lead to this moment. It's surprising how fast the emotions he associates with you changed; he's not angry anymore, he's scared, guilty, nervous. He wants to see you so bad and yet he feels like you'd be better off never talking to him again.

It's too late to make a run for it when you finally walk through the door. Hair a little damp from the rain, just a bit disheveled from what he could only assume to be rushing over to the café. And that same angelic smile you offer to the barista that greets you, the same one you'd offer him every morning, whether he looked at you or not.

He had no choice but to look now.

Your smile falters into something more nervous, a little melancholic, when your eyes meet his across the café. Though you knew he was going to be there, something in you feels surprised to see him again. Maybe it’s because he isn’t yelling at you or throwing insults at your head this time. Or maybe because he’s actually looking you in the eye. Since when did he get so good at that?

You sit down across him, taking off your coat and putting your bag besides you.

“Hey.” You smile again, much more awkward this time.

“Hey.” He returns the same thin lipped smile.

It’s quiet for a few seconds. Carmen swears the whole café has gone silent in that moment, leaving the two of you to listen to the sound of your own breathing and heartrate picking up. You’re not sure where to look, not being used to being in such an intimate setting with him.

“Do you want a coffee?”

“Sorry I was late.”

You both talk over each other, and the urge to chuckle about it overtakes you. Carmen can’t help but smile as well. You seem nervous, and somehow that puts him a little more at ease. Like he’s not the only one who’s in their head about it.

“Sorry, I, uhm, yeah— I would like a coffee.” You scramble over your words. “Please.”

“Sure,” he nods, “and no worries.”

“Hm?”

“That you were late. I haven’t been here that long either.” He lied. He’d been there half an hour early, cursing himself for letting him sit along with his thoughts for that long and psyching himself out into almost leaving.

You both order and another heavy silence sits between you two. You both know why you’re there, what needs to be talked about. Yet neither of you know how to bring it up.

You’ve lived most of your lives believing this version of each other you had in your minds. Because it kept you grounded. Because it was easier. He never let you in and for the longest time, you were at peace with that. You could have a slightly distant view of who he was, your classmate, your rival. And he could do the same. Keep you out, pretend you were there to keep him on his toes, to always try to outdo him.

Those facades of each other don’t work anymore. The real world has forced you to reconcile with each other, whether you liked it or not.

Your coffee gets brought to your table, and both of you feel this urgency to say something, anything, at least.

“The pastries here are good too, if you want to get one.” He finally broke the awkward silence. He can start with talking about food, something he knows. If all else fails, resort back to that.

“I haven’t tried a pastry besides my own in a long time. Maybe I could learn a thing or two here.” You admit. He knows that feeling. He’s not nearly as adventurous with his food choices as he wants to be, but as a busy chef on the brink of a new entrepreneurship, it’s usually beef sandwiches and frozen meals.

“I think yours were better though.” He takes a sip of his coffee.

“Huh?” You look up, realizing you were avoiding eye contact by staring into your cup.

“The danish I tried at your place. It was fire.”

“Oh. Right. Thank you, we make everything from scratch.”

“I could tell.” He takes another sip. “I guess I— I kinda forgot to tell you that. In the heat of it all.” He huffs to himself. “Food was so good it made me upset.”

“Upset?” His word use frustrates you. Upset is when they forget to give you your sauce with your order. What happened back there was not upset. That was rage. Wrath. You raise an eyebrow and he realizes he said something wrong.

“Well, more than upset. Listen, I— We need to talk about what happened.” His blue eyes peer into your own. They’re almost distracting enough to avoid you noticing his fidgeting hands.

“I’m listening.” You lean back slightly in your seat. You’d played nice with Carmen all your life, given him every chance to return it. Now it was his turn to try.

"Right." Of course he has to talk. It's his fault, isn't it? He's the one who snapped-- why did he even imply you'd have to explain yourself? He runs a hand through his hair, and there he goes again, eyes darting across the café to find something to focus on as he sought out the right words. You'd almost find it endearing, how bad he is at this, if it wasn't so important to you.

"You don't do this often, do you?"

"What, like-- meeting up for coffee?"

"Talking about stuff. Your feelings and shit." You hid your slightly amused smile behind your coffee cup before taking a small sip.

"Oh. Yeah, no, I-- I don't. Not until recently." He takes a deep breath. Just like they had told him to. “I’ve been going to this therapy thing my sister recommended. S’not much, but… It’s a start. Talked about the restaurant, my brother—“

“Your brother?” Your eyebrows raise slightly.

“Yeah, my— my brother. Mikey.” He looks a bit surprised. He’s come to the shattering realization that he’s never told you anything about his personal life, ever. You don’t even know about one of the most important people in his life, his main drive. You’ve known each other for so long yet you know so little. “I never told you about him?”

“You never told me anything.” You answer curtly. “We never really… Talked, you know?”

“Yeah— yeah, you’re right. I just thought… Wow.” He smiles, more out of shock than anything. He feels so stupid. How immature is it to be feuding this much with a person who doesn’t know anything about you?

“I guess I really don’t know much about you either.” His fingers rake through his messy curls again. “Makes me feel like even more of an idiot for going off on you like that. Like I had you all figured out.”

“Yeah, that was uh... That was something." The mood shifts a little. His smile fades as soon as he sees the melancholy in your eyes return. Of course it wouldn't be that easy for you to forgive him, to feel better about all this. "You know, I never knew you thought of me like that." A small smile graces your features. Somehow it's sadder than the expression you had before.

"I mean, I knew you didn't like me. I was pretty much at peace with the fact that you were never going to like me, either. But I never thought you hated me that much." You sniffle, trying your hardest to blink away any oncoming tears. "Like your life, your entire career, would have been easier without me there at all."

His heart aches at the sight of you, all teary eyed and trying to be brave. You're much braver than him. Sadness is a much harder thing to express than anger. He's starting to figure that out more and more.

"I don't hate you." He starts. He sees the confusion contort your features, and he knows he's not making any sense. "I mean I did-- I did hate you. Or, maybe not you, just... The fucked up idea I had of you. And-- and that was on me, that was my own fault." He feels an urge to touch you; to rub your back, hold your hand, anything to comfort you. It's tearing him apart to know that he's the cause of all this.

"But why?" A single tear rolls down your cheek, leaving a wet streak on your skin in its wake. "Why did you think that about me? I-- I get that we had a little rivalry going but jesus Carmen, did you really think I spent my whole culinary school career trying to outdo you?"

"To be honest... Yeah." He feels ashamed. So ashamed. He hopes the waitress doesn't walk by and listen to any of this, see you crying, and make you feel even worse. "Cooking was always just... My thing. If I was good for anything, it would be that. So seeing you do so well at something I'd started to base my whole existence around, it made me jealous, so fucking jealous." He meets your eyes, even if it's hard. You have to know he's being sincere.

"And it's-- it's unfair, it's so unfair to you, I know, and I'm really fuckin' sorry. I'm trying to work on myself, on everything, and I hope I can prove that to you." His face has that red tint you recognize whenever he's nervous or stressed. You can tell this is taking a lot from him.

"Is that really all? You were just jealous?" Your voice is quieter, fragile almost.

"I don't know. I wanna think it's that simple but I really don't know. There's a lot I don't understand about me, or you, or us. My mind doesn't know how to react when I see you anymore I think, now that things are different." He takes a deep breath, like saying that took a physical toll on him. "You have this-- this weird effect on me, and I don't know how to cope with it. I think it was just easier to be mad at you than to be anything else."

Anger is easier to express than sadness. The easiest out of all emotions, actually. Sometimes a little too easy.

You look to the side, wiping your cheek with the back of your hand. You huff out something close to a laugh, and though he’s caught off guard by it, he doesn’t mind it. Even if you’re laughing at him, at least that means you’re not crying.

“You’ve got issues Berzatto. You know that?”

“Yeah. I’ve been told.” He smiles, and it’s heartfelt this time. Not nervous, or sad, or awkward. He’s happy to see you a little more at ease.

“It’s just really crazy to me.” You trace your finger over the edge of your coffee cup as you talk. “I spent so much time in culinary school looking up to you. And then I find out you were always just trying to keep up with me.”

Carmen’s eyebrows raise a little at your words. “Looked up to me?”

“Yeah, like… Your drive, your passion, it’s so impressive. Always looking to improve, to do better, it just— it inspired me to do better too. As cheesy as that may sound.” You smiled. “S’why I opened up in Chicago, you know.”

“Really? Huh.” He leaned back in his seat.

“Because I wanted to work with you. Or for you. Either would have been fine with me.” You sigh. “I like owning my own place, but… I don’t know, for some reason I always imagined us working together.” You smiled. “Is that stupid?”

“No,” he replied quickly, “no not at all, I— I totally get that.” He’s quiet for a few seconds, and you can practically hear the gears turning in his head when he stares at you for a moment.

“I mean you’re a remarkable chef, really, like— insanely remarkable, and, well, we’re revamping the restaurant completely right now. We need people— more people, new people, and so, I was wondering— or I’ve been thinking—“ He stops himself from losing his breath from all his rambling, before he freaks you out even more than he already has.

“I want you to come work for us at the Bear.” He puts his hands together, as if he’s about to beg. “Please.”

You can almost hear yourself blinking out of confusion. There’s suddenly no more loud silences, no, the café seems dead quiet for once. All you can do is stare at him, wait for a laugh, because clearly this was a joke right? There’s no way Carmen Berzatto, chef supreme, arch nemesis of yours, would want you anywhere near him, let alone work in his own establishment.

“I’m sorry?”

He feels stupid already. You had every reason to say no. He’d been the biggest asshole in the world to you, he’d kept his distance all his life, and now he expects you to be his employee. Or, well, colleague, more so.

“I’m uh— we’re redoing the restaurant entirely. New equipment, new staff, new everything.” He swallows; the thought of everything that needed to be done arises for a moment. “We need people that work hard, who know what they’re doing and who are passionate about it. And I barely know anyone who’s better at what you do than yourself.” He pauses, waiting for you to stop him. But you don’t.

“So I’m asking if you’d work for me. With me. It won’t be anything like old days, if anything I— I need to learn from you.” He scoffs at himself. “Could take a thing or two about how to communicate with my staff.”

You smile, and he genuinely thinks you’re about to start laughing at him. You chuckle, but it’s not mean, it’s honest. Cute.

“You know, you have great timing.” You grin.

“I do?” the smile on his face reflects the hope he feels.

“One of my chefs wants to take over the place for me. Well, has been wanting to. I haven’t had an exact reason to say yes to her yet.” You shrugged. “Guess I do now.”

“…Is that you saying yes?”

“It’s definitely not me saying no.” Your eyes meet his, and there’s something between you both that’s different now. It’s not like there’s a switch that’s been flipped. It‘s more like this conversation was the turning page of a new chapter.

“I’ll think about it. I want to see it first. Maybe talk to some of your staff.” Carmen’s chest strains a little when he thinks about you interacting with Richie. Then he’s reassured when he thinks about you interacting with Sydney or Marcus. You’d fit in well, you have great feeling for people.

“Yeah— yeah, I get that. Totally. I can arrange that. Uhm, we’re renovating right now, actually, it’s all really kinda wild, but if you wanna stop by, chat with Syd, or Nat, or talk about the plans, let me know. I’m sure they’d love to talk to you.” He’s not lying, you seem like you’d get along well with them. Especially Sydney. Your thinking processes are very similar to each other. And to his.

Carmen gets the bill, even though you try to pay for it.

“It’s just a coffee, just let me get this one.”

You let him have this one, simply because you can’t argue with him after the conversation you just had. You’re in too good of a mood after his proposition too.

He walks you to your car, hands in his pockets when you reach it. It’s cold outside, and his breath comes out in visible puffs of air. His nose is a little red, but you think it looks cute.

“Thanks for coming, by the way,” he starts, “I know you didn’t have to. Like— after how I acted to you. But— But I really do appreciate that you’re givin' me a chance here.” He’d always been confused about how positive and faithful you were in people. He never thought he’d be grateful for those exact features too.

“No worries, I… I had a good time. I’m glad we talked.” The keys jingle as you fidget with them. Among them is a keychain in the shape of a cherry, he recognizes it. It reminds him of how little you’ve both changed. And how much.

“Yeah.” He sighs. Relieved, almost. “Me too. But I’ll let you leave, might wanna tell your chef the good news.”

“Good news?” You quirk an eyebrow.

“That you’re selling them the business.”

“I haven’t decided yet, Carm.” You scoff. But he can tell you have, you look too excited about it all to not have your mind made up yet. It excites him too. Scares him a bit as well, but what’s a new chapter without a bit of tension?

“Right. Sorry.” He huffs. “Just text me when you wanna head over to see the place. It’s uh… It’s a work in progress, but it’s getting somewhere.”

“I believe you. I’m looking forward to it.” You lean back against your car a little.

“Yeah. Me too.”

“See y’around?” You unlock it and walk up to the driver’s side.

“Course. Uh, don’t be a stranger.”

You grin, leaning down to get into the vehicle. “Never with you, Berzatto.”

He watches you drive off, standing in the cold for far longer than any sensible person has any business standing there. But he feels good. He feels warm.

He thinks about what you said to him before you left. You were right, you were never a stranger to him. You were always like a constant in his life; whether you were actually present or not. And even if he didn’t know that much about you, which he was insistent on changing, you were never a stranger.

Never with him.

tag list <3

@beebslebobs @thatone-brightstar @spr3id @deadandstill @777iii @magicboytrash @dogdevourer @wiipes @sierrahhh @crayzmarvelfan800 @azxulaa @astridyoo15 @rexorangecouny @azxulaa @jointherebellion215 @diorrfairy @chanluuvr @idontexist-anymore @wolfiealina

#carmenmath #aster writes the bear #carmen berzatto writing #carmen berzatto x fem!reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto the bear #carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto fic #carmen berzatto blurb #carmen berzatto x y/n #jeremy allen white imagine #jeremy allen white fic #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto the bear fx

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readingwiththereids · 2 years ago

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yanda! speaks: hello my pretties! as promised, here is chapter 2! again, minimal carm so i’m sorry but we do get to see camila interact with the rest of the gang <3 hope you like it, don’t forget to like and reblog! lots of love and light 🤎

masterlist

night rain ; chapter 2

2022

Emilia was hyper and extremely difficult to tire out. Even after a two-hour trip to the park filled with nonstop monkey bars and swings, the young girl still always had another activity in mind for her and her mother to do. And that was why Camila was currently trying to stop Emilia from jumping from couch to chair and cracking her head open as they played “pirates”.

“Emmy, I swear to God if you jump, I won’t make you pudding for a week.” Camila yelled as she eyed her daughter sternly.

As the toddler huffed and sat down on the arm of the couch, a muffled ringtone sounded from under the pile of toys on the living room floor prompting Cam to rush to answer. It was Tina.

“Mami? ¿Qué pasó?” [What happened?]

“Why would you assume something happened, Camila? What if I just wanted to hear your voice?”

“Because when I tried to call you during the day last week you told me to, and I quote, ‘hop off your dick’.”

“Okay but that was different, I actually want something from you now.”

“So you do need something.” Camila chuckled into the speaker.

“Yes. Yes, whatever, God you’re just as bad as the new girl.”

“Who?”

“No one. Could you please be my darling daughter and bring me one of my extra clean aprons? Your boyfriend won’t stop yelling at me about it.”

Ignoring the way her mother referred to Carmy, Camila replied watching Emilia start to yawn on the couch, “Are you aware that your darling daughter is also the mother to a two-year-old?”

“Isn’t it nap time? Just bring her with, she can sleep in the car.”

A pause.

“Will you take care of her on Friday during the gala?”

^^^^^^^^^

“I’ll be right back.” Camila whispered as she exited and locked her child in the car.

5 minutes. Just 5.

The woman thought as she hesitantly walked through the door of The Beef before being met with almost half a dozen bodies hovering around what seemed to be sandwiches.

“Cam?”

Marcus spotted her first, immediately walking around the group to engulf her in a huge bear hug. Suddenly everyone was surrounding her. She couldn’t even count how many hugs, kisses on the cheek and pats on the back she received from her chosen family. The commotion obviously summoned the king of noise and ruckus himself, Richie and an unknown girl with multi-coloured braids trailing behind him.

“As I live and breathe!” Richie’s voice boomed through the front of house.

“Hey, Cousin.” Camila laughed as he picked her up and spun her around.

“Feel like I haven’t seen you in ages, Mini.”

“Likewise,” she said before turning to the girl she had yet to be introduced to. “Camila, nice to meet you.” she smiled.

“Hi! My name’s Sydney, I’m staging today.”

“Awesome, I hope everyone’s made you feel welcome.”

Angel stepped in, clearing up the confusion on Sydney’s side. “Cam is Tina’s daughter.”

“And Carmen’s ex-girlfriend.” Ebra loudly whispered.

“Ebraheim, you know you can’t whisper.” Tina rolled her eyes, slapping his arm.

Breaking the awkwardness, Sweeps walked up to Camila with a sandwich in his hand. “Yo, you gotta try this.”

“Holy shit, this is fu-”

“Fucking fire, we know!” Richie groaned. “I don’t know why you all act like Cousin shits out a golden egg every time he makes something, nothing is that good!”

“Well, have you tried it, Richard?” Camila asked.

The scruffy man paused before shaking his head as if that was one of the most absurd questions anyone had ever dared to utter in his presence.

“Exactly,” Cam continued. “Also, I’ve seen you eat a slice of pizza off the floor in the middle of Millennium Park, so I’m not entirely sure if your standards are up to code, Rich.”

That statement resulted in many exclaims and expressions of disgust, amusement and pure shock which were all interrupted when the kitchen door slammed open.

“Alright! Everyone stop standing around, we only have an hour left till-”

When Camen looked up from his phone and saw the very reason his employees refused to get back to work, he froze. Believe it or not, this was the first time in three years that he had seen Camila’s face. After she left, she never told him where she went, removed him from all her social media, left some money for him to pay off their apartment and basically disappeared off of the face of the earth. It hit him hard at first but he soon realised that he had to just keep going, keep himself busy, which his career did a fine job at.

However, it still felt weird seeing her again. Not exactly like reopening an old wound but rather reminding him of one that never really healed, that he’d just forgotten was still hurting.

Due to his train of thought, Carmy failed to notice that the room had almost entirely cleared out, leaving just him and the woman he’d been in love with once (and honestly was still in love with).

“Hi.” he eventually croaked out.

“Hi.” she smiled sadly.

yanda! speaks (again): cam in her bad mom era tbh. like girl why are you leaving your child in the car in the middle of river north?? 🤨

🏷️ list: @rexorangecouny @louderfortheback

[dm me to get on the tag list :b]

#carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto fic #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto imagine #the bear #the bear fanfiction #the bear fic #the bear fx #carmen berzatto x oc

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sydneyadamuhusband · 2 years ago

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SYDRICHIE FANFIC (cause im not good at titles, people) part one

note: never worked in a restaurant, I barely even know what I am saying with the slang being tossed around. Let's hope it makes sense.

words: 5k (ish)

rating: gen.

warnings: light mentions of anxiety. (And possible misspellings, im sorry in advanced)

﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋

It was peak hour and the tickets were coming in hot and fast. Richie was out on the floor, serving food to guests and buttering them up while Sydney was yelling out the rapid orders and taking them down.

They were packed tonight and people’s orders were shooting out the ticket machine faster than Sydney could see.

Clashing sounds of dishes, silverware and cups were all around. Clouds of steam and smoke were in the air followed by sizzling. Plates and plates were being dished out and walked in what felt like milliseconds to Sydney.

Unlike the first night, Sydney was prepared. Her braids were held back into a tight bun and draped over with a sharp white bandana wrapped tight around her head, her eyes darted with each order with proficiency, and her hands were quick to scratch out orders.

She was getting in a zone, a fast and stressful zone and it felt freeing. The zone wasn’t safe nor a fun, not even close. But somehow that made it more exhilarating.

She had control over the life of chaos and it was powerful. Being able to handle it and go with the flow in a world that felt like it had none, now that was a feeling like no other

Everything was under control and even if it wasn’t; Richie, Tina, Marcus, Sweeps and Sugar got her. Hell, even Fak got her. They have each other, they hired an excellent group. Everything was under her control.

Well almost everything.

“That’s not cooked all the way you are supposed to steam. them.” It was Carmy’s voice Sydney heard. Unfortunately she wasn’t surprised.

He was in tonight, disheveled and tired practically screaming down the ear of an employee, Jacob.

“Do you know how to steam vegetables chef!?” Carmy is practically on the guy's ear.

The vegetables are burnt with a tangy smell in the air floating all over the kitchen, Sydney’s nose wrinkles. The station’s stove is too hot obviously with the burst of more and more smoke coming out of the pot’s rim. But Sydney can’t focus on that right now.

“Fire two by two t-bones!” The chefs respond to Sydney quickly. “Thank you chefs!’

Jacob is shaking like a leaf, his blond hair starting to fall out of place as he quickly restarts his process of cooking. His hand’s trembles as he cuts. Carmy is still there though. He hovers over him with cold blue eyes, practically trying to pierce into him with his glare.

Sydney looks down, “Fire bucatini two by two. T-bone to table 15 please!” The chefs responded.

As long as they can get through it without paying too much attention to Carmy, they’ll be good. His yelling got louder though. Sydney can see the poor chef shrink under Carmy.

Carmy kept asking rapid questions leaving strays of spit and vicious anger flying everywhere. His face was getting hotter by the second. At this point, it looked like his goal was to keep yelling until his face turned blue.

Sydney tries to interfere. “Chef!-”

“Not now, Chef” Carmy replies smoothly to Sydney before she’s able to finish. He keeps his eyes on his target the whole time. “Answer the question, Chef.”

“Yes chef, I know how to make veg...vegetables, chef…” The man whimpers quietly.

Oh boy.

The air is thick in the kitchen next to it’s usual smokey delicious air from the various foods they cooked.

His hands were shaky and he was practically vibrating with the vibrato of Carmy’s voice. He was starting to get too loud. The other chefs were staring, distracted by their works which Sydney had to remind and repeat commands to them to get the orders across correctly.

Carmy kept pestering the chef to go faster and faster, cook better. Holy shit he was so red. Sydney looks back down, four more orders past her, fuck.

“We gotta go move faster chefs, fire two fishes, four by four copenhagen, one focaccia to table 11 please, walk bucatini, cannolis two by two!”

“You’re falling behind!” Carmy’s voice comes into view at the wrong time. Even though it wasn’t directed at her, Sydney still flinches with a pang of aching in her stomach.

They really were starting to fall behind right now.

“Fire two t-bones?” One of the chefs asked.

“Sorry, chef.” The man says, “I can’t focus with you this close-” Sydney can’t focus on that right now. She’ll deal with Carmy later. The five more tickets fire.

Sydney looks back at the chef who asked and shakes her head vehemently.

“No-” She glances at the clock, 5 more minutes. “Fire two fishes, four by four copenhagen,” She scratches out the various food items on the list below her.

So many fucking papers everywhere and the tickets won’t stop…

“One. Focaccia. To. table. 11. Please, walk the bucatini. And Marcus,” he raises his head up, “Cannolis two by two.”

Marcus nods, “Yes chef.”

He got her. The chefs are cooking, they got her. It’s fine they got this.

“Fire three t-bones and a welcome broth for table 12 and 8!” A rough jagged sigh drags from Sydney, “two by two focaccia.” And she keeps continuing the list.

“Four by four…” Deal with Carmy later,

“Two by two…” 4 1⁄2 minutes..

“Another four by four…” Why is Carmy so fucking loud?

“..to table 14 please!” Why is the ticket machine so loud??

“...hands for cannolis please, thank you chef!” Why is Sydney’s brain so fucking loud???

The kitchen’s door opens, it’s Richie.

He has a brisk pace, strolling in smoothly and so casually. He’s calm, level headed and relaxed. Sydney needs whatever fuck he’s on make him so easy going and clear headed in times like these.

He’s fixing his suit, pressing any creases and folds out with rough palms. He’s watching them, encouraging them yet pestering them to quiet and settle down so softly and nicely.

Good god it’s so uncanny of him. No more sweats, no more overpowering pine tree cologne, no more yelling and obnoxiously loud talking. He’s just oddly mature and reasonable, mannered and good. He smells good

And with that suit He looks so…

Sydney looks back down the tickets and continues calling out orders. She has no time to address whatever the hell that was because that’s not important. No more looking at Richie of all people like that.

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees when Richie finally glances over at Carmy who’s lashing out on the chef next to him. He turns to face Sydney and their eyes meet for a brief moment as he fiddles with the cuffs of his suit.

Richie leans over to her, close enough for just her to hear. His breath brushed against her skin. His hand on her shoulder.

“Carmy’s gonna need to step out, Syd.” He says and Sydney knows he’s right, “The customers can hear him.”

Just as she expected. Sydney looks over to him now, he’s close. He stares at her with those bright eyes, they're like ocean waves crashing in the sea on a sunny day.

Unlike any of the other times they have gotten close and personal in each other's spaces, Richie doesn’t smell like cheap cologne and cigarettes. He smells fresh, minty and so good. He’s looking at her soothing concerned eyes.

How are they always getting this close and personal in each other’s spaces?

She nods at him. “I know.” and Richie gets it.

He watches as she sorts out the orders for a brief moment, like he’s assessing what he was gonna do. Camry was still yelling, getting red in the face. It reminds Richie of someone but he quickly lets that thought pass him.

Richie takes a breath and begins to make his way over to Carmy. He slips behind chefs, announcing his presence incase of a run-in. Some are giving Carmy quick glances that dart between him and Richie, asking if they should do something. Richie just nods at them to continue their work and they do.

He squeezes in between Carmy and the chef.

The guy was trembling, nearly knocking into other equipment.Maybe if Carmy could just calm the fuck down, the chef could do what he’s ask him.

Richie clears his throat. "Hey, cousin-"

“Back the fuck off, Richie.” Carmy doesn’t even hesitate to say.

But Richie wasn’t going to back down. This restaurant needs to thrive and Richie isn’t letting one (or a couple of) bad day(s) fuck up this resteraunt. Especially since Carmy himself worked so damn hard for it.

“No.” Richie says plainly, “You gotta step out or calm down Carm, the customers can hear you.” He tries to reason. But Carmy shakes his head softly,

"What? you trynna say I'm fucking up business?"

"Two by two for bucatini." Sydney's voice rings in the kitchen, 2 ½ minutes left.

Richie raises his hands in a soothing gesture, softly shaking his head, "You know I would never say that, cousin."

Carmy doesn't meet Richie's eyes. He paces around, hands on hips. Eyebrows furrowed, Richie tried to meet Carmy's eyes again but he refused to look at him. It doesn't even seem like Carmy was looking at anyone or anything.

Richie grabs a hold of Carmy's arm in the middle of his pacing"Hey hey!" Carmy doesn't respond, his head down.

Richie likes to say he knows Carmy, hell he practically grew up with him and Mikey. He was changing the fucker’s diapers and taking him to school in a beat up honda. He should know Carmy.

He should be able to read him just as well as he could read Natalie or Mikey. But it wasn’t the case at all. Whatever the fuck was happening right now had Richie feeling like he was being thrown to the sharks.

It makes him anxious, and when he gets anxious, he gets shitty thoughts.

Thoughts about Donna, the way she blows up in people’s faces and lashes out so viciously. Thoughts about Mikey and how he was acting months before what happened. How he felt like he was being thrown to the sharks with him too. Got that same pit in his stomach like now…

They just kept coming. They do this really fucked up thing where they fill up in his brain, removing any distractions so his attention is on them. And they like to whisper at him. Tell him shit that he knows everybody would disagree too.

“You’re worthless..”

“You serve no purpose..”

“You’re a loser..”

He tries not to agree with them and let them win. But sometimes they’re just so loud and they remind him of—

Sydney’s chuckling but there’s no humor to it “You wanna talk about fucking ugly, Richie?”

—things he’d rather not think about.

Richie's grip tightens on him, Carmy flinches but doesn't move his head, "Cousin." No response again.

"You're getting too loud and you're holding your staff behind. Go step out for a minute, cousin" Richie whispers

Carmy glares at Richie.

Sydney voice calls from what feels like afar "Hands for Cannolis please."

“Yes Chef!” Fak says. Fak and Sweeps were the only ones out there. Richie can't be here all day, they have job to do. So he straightens up

"I'm serious." Richie gives him a hard stare. "Put on your big boy pants—“

“Don’t fucking tell me-“

“This is your restaurant cousin.” Richie continues, “don't you wanna see it exceed?" He emphasizes by sticking a finger out to Carmy’s chest.

It was ironic to think about. All the other times Richie has brought up this place being Carmy’s, it was usually as a way to talk shit. This time though, he was being sincere.

Reminds Carmy of the times Richie would apologize for yelling too harshly at him when he was nine. Or when he tried encouraging him on his academics in when he was in high school. It's raw, close and loving. Cause Richie cares about him and his little dream of a fancy restaurant.

That what's makes Carmy pause.

He's still staring at Richie but it's no longer a glare. It's just painful and blue. Like how his eyes would get when Mikey and him didn't invite a young Carmy to any of their parties. It sends nostalgic wave down Richie's back.

Finally, Carmy was stepping away, a hand drags down his face. He briefly looked at the chef, finally out of the dream (or nightmare). The poor guy was shaken up, eyes stinging and nose runny.

"Fuck. I'm sorry.." Carmy raises a hand and the guy moves away. "Yeah I'll uh, I'll step out"

The crew watches as Carmy walks from Richie and for the back door, his head low. The restaurant is silent again for a moment. Then Sydney calls out another order and the chefs are back at it.

Like Sydney said, they got her. Richie got her.

The Bear was going great, amazing actually. It honestly felt unreal. The work, frustration, anger, fees oh the fucking fees and construction had paid off so smoothly. The restaurant was upscaled now, beautiful and classy. It was a complete turn around from the beef.

The kitchen was sleek and pristine, no more random stains and ominous (possibly expired) food in the refrigerator. The chefs worked together strategically and were actually taking the job seriously.

Richie cleaned up pretty well and really improved on himself. He was still charismatic and raunchy. But during work he really toned himself down, became more softer and mature, stayed relaxed during peak hours, and Sydney has barely even had an argument with him in the past week.

It was incredibly weird but Sydney was grateful for it.

She does get an aching pit of guilt every time they talk though. Mostly about the day she quit and the things she said (and did) to him.

She should probably talk to him about it and apologize.

“Syd, you good in there?” Speaking of which. Richie taps at his forehead with his hand, the other holding the steering wheel as he drives.

The night had settled and morning came, the blue and purple waves came to paint the sky as the sun began to arise. Chicago's mornings were cold and brisk as the weather changed and Sydney could see her breath visibly each time she spoke.

She shimmies in her jacket, Richies AC’s still busted but hey, he cleaned the car up pretty good. No more Arby's cups (or bags) scattered around the floor.

“Yeah. Just thinking.” She replies absentmindedly. Her body’s slumped in Richie’s passenger seat.

“Don’t hurt yourself.” Richie teases.

“I should be saying that to you.”

“Yo you’re gonna be old too like me one day.”

“Oof don’t remind me.” And Richie laughs.

“Cold blooded, Syd, cold blooded.”

For the past few weeks, they’ve practically been carpooling. It started off as a one-off's, or just plan b's incase it was super late and money was tight. In plus Richie offered and Sydney doesn't turn down free rides. She was more than fine with sitting in tense, awkward silence as he takes her home.

But then it kinda became a habit. Richie always offered and Sydney always needed to save up money anyway.

Soon enough he was taking her everyday practically. They were listening to prank calls on the radio with small snickers and snorts by the absurdity. Sometimes quoting iconic lines to each other after work. Or listening in on talk about recent celebrity drama. Or maybe just sitting in silence as the engine rumbled.

The silence tension dimmed with every ride and soon enough, became comfortable and it was kind of calming. Something calm and quiet for once in the hectic world Sydney lived in. It was so so nice. To the point that Sydney was actually looking forward to the rides.

And Richie did that. So. Fucking. Weird.

She reminds herself to apologize. She'll find a way to. Kinda feels like it's a big conversation to have that needs time to be talked about.

But who was she kidding? Sydney chuckles at that thought. She doesn’t even have time for herself, let alone Richie.

“What’s funny?” Richie asks softly. Softly, surprising isn't it?

Funny thing about Richie is that in the morning his voice is so low and soft with a slight rasp. It's like whiplash to Sydney every time she hears that calm and quiet voice.

She wonders what he looks like just waking up in the morning. What his routine is like. Maybe he makes weird old man noises when gets up. Maybe he drinks coffee. He looks like he drinks his coffee straight black.

Then she immediately shoves those questions down into the deep pits of her brain to discuss with herself about later when she finds the time.

Which she probably won't so she's fine with that.

“You saw that video I sent you on instagram?” Richie ask.

“Yes I did and that was not funny at all.” Sydney remembers that dumbass video (and the other thousand videos) he sent her. She regrets ever giving him her instagram account.

She did skim through his though. Just a tiny skim.

He mostly post about sports teams, family, or Taylor swift? Didn’t expect him to be a Swifite but no judgment.

She saw his daughter, he post about her a lot. She’s adorable. Got those same bright blue eyes like her dad.

Richie smacks his lips “Ehh you don’t get it.” He makes a turn, “You’ll get it when you're my age.”

Sydney shakes her head, “Sure Richie, sure.”

The air between them is nice. Sydney liked it. Liked it feeling nice. She didn’t want to ruin that with weird feelings. She’s just gonna let the air be nice and not weird.

No weird air. Weird air can go fuck off. She’s not gonna be weird about this. She got better things to focus on, like the damn restaurant. And Carmy

Speaking of which, The Bear was doing good, stressful but good. A lot of orders means they’re getting a crowd. Means people like the food. Just need a new cook. They're good.

But Carmy. He's not good. Obviously. Sydney still doesn’t know what happened that night in the walk-in, but it was affecting Carmy and as a result, the chef’s workflow.

They’re lucky Jacob didn’t quit after what happened last night, they don’t need to be short of two chefs when they could barely find one as it is.

The new chefs, bless their hearts, have been getting the grunt of Carmy’s wrath. Mixed in with a couple of back and fourths he’s been having with Sydney. Which reminds her of Richie which gives her so much whiplash.

It’s like the two switched personalities on some Freaky Friday shit. Now Carmy is stressing her out more than anything.

Honestly, he's stressing everyone out.

He needs a break. (And he needs a damn hug, guy got a resting face of a depressed orphan puppy).

For the restaurant and for Carmy himself. Dude has just been so out of it it’s seriously scaring Sydney. When she’s talking to him, his gaze just seemed to be somewhere else so distant and far. Like he was in a different reality altogether.

Which Richie pointed out was weird cause he quotes, “always makes weird googly eyes at you Syd, kid’s obviously fucked.”

Which is–

Sydney’s not even going to go into that. No time for whatever the hell he’s going on about.

They pulled up into the parking lot, Natalie seemed to already be there. They come up right when she had gotten of her car, her hair blowing light with cold air.

Richie eyes her coat "She looks like a fucking eggplant.” He’s not entirely wrong.

She was wearing a warm looking purple jacket with a matching beanie, her hands shoved down into her pockets. She looked really snugged, probably warmer than Sydney is in this freezer like car. Dude really got to fix his AC.

But it's not like he has money for that anyway.

“You look like the grim reaper.” Sydney shoots back.

Small little smile grows on Richie’s face. He had on his infamous suit again, looks nice as always. And very professional. And that is all Sydney has to say about that damn suit. Not else. No other thoughts.

Richie murmurs as they pull up. “Better than looking like an eggplant.” And Sydney snorts.

Soon enough they were out of the car and coming to Natalie. She looked very worried…and tired. Her eyes were big and round with just worry all in them and her eyebrows were scrunched upwards.

Sydney, Richie and Natalie were all huddled in a circle at the front of The Bear, mostly for warmth.

Natalie crosses her arms, feet antsy. "You know, I really don't think he's okay..." she kept her voice low and soft like someone who hear besides them two.

Sydney noticed how her lips folding in on one another every breath she takes in-between talking.

"He's been really out of it lately." Natalie adds.

Richie nods in agreement, arms crossed and frame high.

"Was he ever okay?" Sydney says but immediately cringes at her wording. Richie and Natalie grimace at it.

Sydney's green jacket moves awkwardly with her as she tries to explain. "Sorry like- Was he, was he always like this but like-"

"Was he always so distant and estranged? I mean for these past couple of years, yes." Natalie began to answer, nodding along,"Have I ever seen him so..like that?" She takes a deep breath.

Her eyes are drawn down, her fingers begin to play with the fabric of her purple coat.

"No. Never."

Richie rubs a hand across his beard before grabbing his cigarettes. It'd be the first time in a while that Sydney had seen him smoke.

She guessed a new suit, proper manners, and calm mask doesn't fix a nicotine addiction and stress from work. She watches him as he pulls it out of his slick black suit and sticks one in his mouth. His lips aren’t necessarily pursed around the cig, more like dangling from the side of his mouth.

They seemed a little smooth too. Must've some chapstick on them. Maybe she was staring too hard because when she looked away from the, Richie’s eyes were on her's curiously.

She looks away.

‘stop it’, She scolds herself. No time to unpack or understand that.

Sydney turns her focus back to Natalie who hugs herself closer to her body. Her knit eyebrows creased her skin. She's looking at the ground as if the broken pavement and stomped out buds had the answers.

Sydney has bigger things to focus on. Carmy is the priority right now, not however the hell Richie smokes cigarettes or his lips.

"I don't want him working here," Natalie answers truthfully, "I understand it's his dream but, I don't want this to destroy him." Richie and Sydney get it.

It's Sydney who reaches out first, rubbing her arm soothingly. She gives her soft 'it's okay’ even if she doesn't believe it herself.

“I told him that he spent too much time here…I told him.” It's a quiet remark that could barely be heard under the breezy wind.

Richie grasps her shoulder with a sympathetic nod as well. the same way he did to Sydney a previous night.

“The kid’s not doing so great."

Way to state the obvious, Richie. Sydney doesn't say that out loud.

But it didn't take a genius to tell what she’s thinking by the look she gives him. Richie ignores it.

"The Claire thing has got em all screwed up right now." Richie continues. His words work around the cigarette. “He needs some time away from here so let’s give him that. Some time away from here and some support so he can get his shit together. Don't like seeing him like this.” Richie says that last part low.

“Yeah..” Natalie breathes.

It was strange how much he had changed in his week and it made Sydney think. Did he really change all that much?

Or was he always like this?

She thinks back to when he apologizes for the gun. When he asks her if she's okay after somebody shot their glass. Took accountability and felt guilty for the cigarettes being left out on the stove. How he was trying to help her with those damn vegetables when everything went to hell with the pre-order shit. How he was actually trying to help everyone that day.

How he didn't even give her shit for the knife.

‘Apologize to Richie about the knife’, She reminds herself. She should start putting some sticky notes on her mirror, her dad does that.

Sydney clears her throat and nods, "Agreed." She says simply, smoothing out her hair, "I'll text him that I can do interviews on my own."

Again, she thinks. Last time it was because of Claire too. Sydney didn't really know what happened to them, just that it was a pretty rough breakup.

She remembers trying to go back to comfort Carmy in some way that night. But the moment she was back inside, Richie had stopped her.

He had an inordinately soft look on his face, his posture heavy with ache. She doesn’t know what happened back there but from the looks of it, Richie and Carmy must’ve gotten into it. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and shook his head lightly.

It was the second time they had gotten close that night, the same good smell from earlier coming in to fill her senses. He rubs the thick hand on her shoulder as he dragged his palm up and down in a soothing gesture as if she was the one who’s hurt.

“He needs some time” is what Richie said that night, “Just go home, Syd, he’ll be okay.” Sydney remembers it vividly.

She also remembers wanting to give Richie a hug, pat, or something to soothe his troubles away. He looked like he really needed a warm hug. Maybe something even warmer..

She also remembers trying to shove that thought down the moment it reared it’s ugly head nights after. She has no time for that.

"Interviews?" Natalie asks. "For what? I thought all our spots were filled."

Sydney thins her lips. "Yeah well uh, Josh was smoking meth out back so obviously..." She trails off but Natalie understands nods.

Half of Sydney wishes she didn't tell her cause Natalie looks like she was just given a stack of paper work to do.

Natalie sighs, "Fucker..."

Richie softly snort.

“Yeah." Sydney grabs onto her bag at the hip, feeling for her papers through the fabric as a way to remind her of their presence, "The interviews are going to start at 10."

"Shit I'm sorry I can't help." Natalie softly murmurs, "I got an appointment at like 11:30."

Sydney smiles, it doesn’t reach her eyes though, "I'll be fine, don't worry."

Natalie still looks worried but she smiles, thankful. It seems like a worried face is the only thing she pulls these days. She really needs a break. Her sleeping schedule was worn around her eyes. Her skin’s been looking sickly for a while and Sydney can’t help but think the stress from here is what’s causing it the most.

“Okay, well" Natalie whispers quietly and then glances at her watch, "I should probably go, just wanted to uh talk to you guys real quick."

She goes in for a hug to Richie. Sydney watches the way Richie hugs her. He seems a bit surprised at first but he accepts no less. She watches the way he engulfs her into his arms. They wrap around her nice and snug with a lil squeeze and give her a soft lil pat on the back at the end.

He really likes giving those tiny little pats. He even does it to pens, markers and papers.

He whispers something low and quiet that gets a weak but genuine chuckle out of Natalie before he lets go. He relaxes at the smallest glimpse of a smile from her. Like it was a make or break moment. It's really sweet to see him care so much.

Once again, Richie was surprising Sydney.

"Bye." Natalie says as she now hugs Sydney. She’s warm and soft. Her hugs are surprisingly really comforting. But for some reason all Sydney can think about is how Richie’s hug must've felt.

To be pressed against his chest of nice black fabric and good cologne. To have his voice dangling above her ear, whispering some shitty joke just to hear her laugh. Would he ever even give Sydney one if she needed it? Would he give her a little pat at the end?

Sydney brushes those thoughts away and returns the hug, squeezing just a bit too tight.

She whispers before letting go. "Take care of yourself." And watches a warm but exhausted and fragile smile slip on Natalie's face before peeling away.

Soon, Natalie and her car were out of sight, leaving only Richie and Sydney. Alone. Together. It felt different from the car rides. Usually there's some type of low music, or just comfortable slience in the air as they drive to their destination. Now it feels weird.

It was quite early. Interviews don't start yet and they weren't exactly scheduled to be open today anyway. Sydney just came a little early to set up. Basically, there was no point for Richie to be here.

But he was anyway, standing around awkwardly. With a cigarette still lit, he takes a couple of drags.

“You don't have to stay, you know?' Sydney says and immediately regrets. "Like not in a mean way just like- if you're staying cause I'm here you don't have to." She fiddles with the restaurant keys as she speaks. “Like I don’t mind and-”

“Yo, I understand.” Richie looks down at her, seemingly amused. It was still so weird for her to see him so patient and relaxed.

Sydney nods with a small smile as she gets the door opened. The sound of the door creaking is met with silence as the two stand in the doorway. Richie stomps out the cigarette.

"I can help." He says finally, his voice echoing in the empty restaurant. "With the interviews." He clarifies, scratching a part of his beard. "If you want me too?" he says softly.

Sydney looks up at him surprised, "Really?" She says, slightly dumbfounded, "You, Richie, wanna help me?" she asks incredulously.

And Richie has to laugh at that. It's a nice gruff one with vibrato in it, the laugh bounces off the walls. He laughs like he gets it, like he knows and understands where Sydney’s coming from.

Surprises, surprises.

“Cut me some slack!” Richie’s got a sly smile dancing all over his face, “I’ve been killing it this past few weeks.” He says humorously, “I’m like your little helper. Sidekick even.”

And now Sydney’s laughing. It’s not a tense one nor a condescending one either. It’s genuine and real. Sydney notes that this was probably the first time she ever laughed with Richie and not at him and it's outside of their little carpooling. She doesn't know why but it makes it feel real.

Sydney, amused, replies. “Sidekick is pushing it.”

"Clyde to your Bonnie?"

“Clyde to my Bonnie?” She repeats.

“Yeah,” And Richie got a little smile on his face. “practically.”

Sydney gives him a look, “Sure, Richie.”

And Richie laughs again. Laughs that loud bright laugh. It makes Sydney’s smile widen and it's so weird because she used to hate it. She would always hear him joking or fucking around at The Beef, ignoring her so he could just kick it like it was a friday night.

And his laugh used to be what really ticked her off.

Made her feel like he was laughing at her and her authority. Like some mean girl was making fun of her from school all over again. Kinda felt weird to compare a grown ass man to a mean middle schooler but Richie wasn't really known for being mature anyway.

Now though, that laugh doesn’t piss her off. Doesn’t frustrate her or make her angry. It doesn’t feel mocking or rude. It makes her feel warm and soft.

Maybe it’s because for once, it’s with her and she’s in the joke with him. He's laughing because of her, for her.

And it feels too fucking weird. Richard dickhead Jerimovich was giving her the most sincere look with crinkled eyes and a huge smile and she felt weird about it.

‘Shut up.’ She chastises herself. Thoughts are for another time. (Time she still doesn't have).

It’s Richie who’s drawing her back to reality, “Hand me some of the resumes,” He nudges her. “I know you would print them out like a smartypants.”

"Yeah, because that’s what you’re supposed to do when interviewing, Richie.”

"That's what a smartypants would say." Richie says so facetiously with such a big smile. It should really irritate Sydney, it used to, but he doesn't.

Sydney shoves some papers in Richies face and his big fat smile. "Just take the resumes, Richard." And she's smiling right back at him.

"Knew it." He says. Their fingers brush one another when Richie grabs the resumes and Sydney’s very normal about it. So normal.

She watches as he goes through the papers, eyes darting from left to right. He looked focused, concentrated and actually invested.

He looks up at her for a moment and winks. "Let's do it sweetheart."

"Richie-"

"Yeah yeah sorry." He mutters playfully but genuine, "Don't call you sweetheart, sorry Syd." He nudges her a little with a playful smile crawling onto his face.

“Fuck off.” Sydney says to Richie.

But also to those stupid weird feelings that came up again.

﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋

Here's what I got so far for the starving Sydrichie fans out there. Next part might be more Richie centered idk idk. Let's pray I got the motivation to do a part two. This took about a few weeks but I'm really proud.

#sydrichie #sydney adamu #richie jerimovich #sydney x richie #richie x sydney

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scary-movies-on-netflix · 4 months ago

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NOCTURNE (2020)

This movie is about Juliet (Sydney Sweeney) and Vivian (Madison Iseman), who are twins, and they attend a music high school together, but before we get to them we watch as Moira plays “The Devil’s Trill” by Guiseppe Tartini (18th century). Then she throws herself off a balcony.

Now, to the twins. They return to school, and the principal tells everyone that, since Moira died, they need a replacement performer for the big school concert later that quarter. They will hold a competition in Moira’s memory. We then see the students practicing. Apparently, Juliet is good enough to turn the pages for Vivian. The sisters talk about what they’re going to play for the competition, but just then Moira’s old notebook falls on the floor, and Juliet sweeps it up. Juliet practices her Mozart, but she really wants to play Saint-Saens, which is Vivian’s piece! She tells “Dr. Cask,” a teacher, that she will play the Saint-Saens, instead of Mozart, and then practices late into the evening. She hears music from another practice room and ends up in the same room where Moira died! Juliet finds a symbol etched into the wall, and it matches a symbol on the front of Moira’s notebook! Juliet plays “The Devil’s Trill” from the notebook, which is also filled with strange drawings. There are five drawings, but then the next page is missing.

Anyway, the next day is the big competition. Juliet gets her period. They go to the auditorium for the competition. Juliet takes some pills. Vivian plays the Saint-Saens. Then Juliet plays the same Saint-Saens! Awkward! Then…Juliet is in a world of red! That is, she’s in a red hallway. There’s a brilliant yellow light at the end of the passage. She ends up in the practice room (where Moira died) and steps out onto the balcony, where she looks down on herself completing a successful concert performance. Everyone is clapping, and the Juliet on the stage looks up at the other Juliet and smiles. Then Juliet wakes up in the auditorium, by the piano. The principal tells her that she passed out. “How’d I play?” she asks. “Was I good?”

Later, Vivian is furious at Juliet, and Vivian even won the competition, so all of Juliet’s efforts were for naught. She goes to practice with her tutor, who tells her that she can have a perfectly fine career as a teacher or a member of a chamber group. Juliet says that she’s sacrificed everything for music and wants more. Her teacher tells her (and us) that she only applied to Julliard, and no other schools, and since Julliard didn't accept her, her career is on hold. Juliet then insults the man, and he slaps her. He is suspended, naturlich, and Juliet demands to be taught by Dr. Cask, who is also Vivian’s teacher.

Vivian responds by putting some bloody tampons in Juliet’s mailbox. Juliet goes to yell at her (on a roof), and Vivian plays it off as now they’re even. “Together forever,” she says. Juliet goes to her first session with Cask, and he asks why she changed her piece (to Saint-Saens). “I want to beat her,” Juliet says. Cask explains that the sisters are essentially equal in skill, but Vivian “plays like the Devil is at the door.” Juliet asks about Moira. “She played like the devil was in the room.”

That night Juliet looks at the drawings in the notebook in the mirror, because Moira could write backwards. The pictures have various ominous titles, but they aren't really important. Later, as Juliet is sleeping, she wakes up to a glowing yellow light in her bathroom. She sees Moira, whose head is bashed in! She smiles at Juliet, who then wakes up. She receives a text from Max, Vivian’s boyfriend, who invites her to the “senior party.” They head over. Juliet takes some drugs and is freaking out. She overhears Vivian telling someone that their affair is over. Juliet then talks to Max, Vivian’s boyfriend, but Vivian finds them and thinks that they’re flirting. The sisters shove each other, and then Juliet runs off. Juliet sees a brilliant yellow light before her, maybe like an eyeball, and she falls to her knees, but Vivian runs right past her and falls off a cliff. Max goes to help her and tells Juliet to tell everyone else to leave the party.

Juliet wakes up in the morning. She has scribbled “VI” on a bunch of papers. She is summoned to the principal’s office, and the woman explains that Vivian broke her arm in two places, and is suspended! The principal offers Juliet the solo in the big school concert! Vivian is pissed. There is some more bickering between the sisters. Juliet talks to Max, Vivian’s boyfriend, about Moira’s notebook, and then she tells him that Vivian is cheating on him. After some more stuff, Juliet and Max end up in practice room and have sex, and then Max runs away. Then we join the sisters, their parents, and Cask for the girls’ birthday dinner. Mom asks Cask about the future of “classical” music, since its audience is aging and shrinking, and Cask extols the sacrifice of musicians. “So long as there are people who appreciate that sacrifice, real music will live on.” Vivian dumps the birthday cake on Cask.

Cask then takes Juliet to his house. Juliet looks at a second-place prize he won twenty years previously. He tries to encourage Juliet, but she kisses him! He says that she’s misread the situation, but she tells him that she knows he and Vivian have been fucking. She makes fun of his second-place prize, and she says that’s she going to be “great.” Cask then tells her that truly great musicians are already accomplished by Juliet’s age. “You’re not going to miss your chance at greatness, Juliet. You already have.” She throws his second-place trophy, a conductor’s wand, into the fireplace. He tries to save it.

Juliet goes to her room and draws another picture into Moira’s notebook. It shows a woman standing on an edge, and it says, “SACRIFICE.” She burns the notebook. She wakes up the next morning, the day of the big concert! She goes to a dressing room and puts on a nice dress (the one she was wearing earlier in the vision) and then Vivian enters. She asks, “What did I do to make you hate me, Jules?” Vivian recounts a childhood memory, where she had to pull a panicked Juliet off a stage. Vivian says, “I told you I would always be there for you.” Vivian accuses Juliet of taking everything from her, but Juliet says that now she’s better than Vivian. “We’ll see what those scouts from Julliard say when the understudy walks out onstage in ten minutes’ time.” Vivian laughs and says that schools like Julliard don’t send scouts. “It’s the best art school in the world. It doesn’t need to.” Juliet is shaken. Vivian calls her “mediocre.” Or, “mid,” as the kids say these days.

Anywho, Juliet goes out onto the stage. Everyone is looking at her. She sits at the piano to play, but she freaks out and runs away. She sits in a stairwell and bangs her head against a door, but then an “EXIT” sign flashes yellow at her. It leads her to a ladder going to the rooftop, and Juliet climbs up and then moves to stand on the ledge of the building. A brilliant yellow light, like the symbol on Moira’s notebook, glows at her, and she steps off the ledge. Inside the auditorium, Juliet completes her performance, and everyone is clapping for her. Even Vivian is smiling at her. The principal says, “Juliet, you’re a star.” “I am,” Juliet says, and then we are back outside, where we see Juliet’s bloodied face as she hangs off a big art piece in the courtyard. She manages to smile before dying. People walk around the courtyard.

This was ok. There are hints of “Black Swan” (2010), what with the protagonist’s obsession with artistic greatness, but that movie was a work of art. This was middling. The movie is supposed to be about sacrificing everything for art, but it lacks any the mania displayed in “Black Swan” or even, say, “Whiplash” (2014). (“Not my tempo!”) We also have maybe hints of “Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Price” (2009), where Harry Potter is inspired by one of Snape’s old notebooks, but that movie actually shows us how the book teaches and inspires Harry Potter. “Nocturne,” on the other hand, simply says that Juliet is somehow a better musician, without showing us that she’s actually better or explaining how she accomplishes that improvement. So, yes, the story isn’t great, but the acting is fine. Sydney Sweeney and Madison Iseman are competent as bickering sisters, and Sweeney does what she can with the artistic mania. They both adequately pretend to play the piano. There are some strong images, such as the first red hallway, and the ending is nicely creepy and ambiguous, but everything is dragged down by the lackluster and underdeveloped plot.

#nocturne #horror movie #horror movies #movie review #2020 #ok #sydney sweeney #madison iseman

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evita-shelby · 1 year ago

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Love's a state of mind

Chapter 4

Cw: mentions of past trauma, mentions of death in childbirth, research about abortion

Taglist: @thegreatdragonfruta

He could lie and say he’s over her, but his resolve breaks the moment he turns and finds unresponsive on the floor.

Her PA had wanted to sweep this under the rug only for him to point out she hit the side of the table on the way down.

To let his ex-girlfriend have some dignity, no paramedics had been called and Rob was going to have Chrissy say whatever Eva was hiding while she drove them to the nearest emergency room.

It was far too easy; Chrissy had always been very chatty. Eva didn’t like silence and kept her no matter how many times she spilled any secret of her boss because while you could get Chrissy Gutierrez to speak, an extractor couldn’t rob them blind.

All Riley and Fischer Morrow employees with any access were trained against extractions, as a precaution. Everyone knows if you want to make it into the next decade you have to get on with the times.

“She’s been sick for a few days, after this meeting she’s supposed to go to the doctor.” The assistant isn’t lying, but he’s been around her enough to know there’s something else.

“Chrissy.” he warns as takes the backseat with a still unconscious Eva. The things he does for this woman, this fucking woman who used him and has him crawling back to her without any effort from her part.

“Six pregnancy tests, fifty percent chance it’s another scare.” The plucky assistant admits knowing he was there the last time.

Eva hadn’t told him; he’d found out on his own when she left the test in their bathroom. He had been nervous and a bit excited at the prospect of a life with her and their hypothetical children. She had been relieved when her doctor told them it was a false positive.

Her sister had died from childbirth complications, Eva was terrified of it happening to her. They’d talked about it that night, sitting on the rug with their backs to the bed. To think all of it was a fucking lie, maybe she just didn’t want to have kids with him.

Everything was as real as you and me, her words hadn’t left his head since she spoke them making him doubt his new perception of her.

He had kissed her thinking it would not be like the ones before and feel nothing after, and yet it had the opposite effect.

Robert had gone there with every intention of taking that wind park that gave her company its name and destroying it just as Uncle Peter had been meaning too. He had folded, not because she seduced him, but because she had told the truth.

He’s known her for a year, Eva’s a good liar but not good enough when she’s not firing on all cylinders. She hadn’t had a hair out of place, but he could tell from the way she tried to get the meeting over with and how pale she was at the end.

He was petty and taught to exploit his opponents’ weaknesses. Robert’s just never been as good as his father nor Uncle Peter.

Never good enough.

“Chrissy, you’re fired.” Eva keeps her eyes shut and mutters something in Spanish when she opens them to see him hovering over her.

“I’m fine.” She says and refuses his help as she moves as far as she can in Chrissy’s little sedan. “If there is anything you should know, I will tell you. If I don’t it’s because its none of your fucking business, Rob.”

Stubborn as always, even as she is shaking off the effects of a minor concussion and a fainting spell, Eva is as stubborn as a pack mule.

He always liked that about her, even in moments when it grated him.

Like now.

“I think it’s my fucking business, Evie, it is our baby you might be having.” He points out and she threatens Chrissy with a bad reference for running her mouth like that.

“Don’t you have a plane to catch?” Eva asks knowing he’d delayed his bimonthly visits home for this fucking meeting alone.

“No, my schedule is perfectly clear.” Just for you. “Besides, if that fifty percent chance turns out to be true, I would rather be here with you than in Sydney with my dad.”

“How sweet of you. What do you want me to do now? Give you a pat on the back? Feed you a treat, give you a belly rub and call you a good boy?" She mocks him, hitting every button she knows so he leaves and takes that fucking private jet to Sydney and all it does is have Chrissy call her out on being such a bitch.

But he won’t. His dad was right to be disappointed in him, Robert thinks as he shoots down every protest his ex throws at him as she tries to get him to leave.

Robert gets that look on his face like he did that time months ago when he thought she was pregnant as well. That dopey one that is already seeing them settle in some picture-perfect place with perfect kids and a perfect life.

Save for their bickering, you couldn’t tell they were over. He stood by her every fucking second and even told Chrissy ---told her as if he had any right to run her life--- he’d be taking her home before she left.

Eva hadn’t been in a good mood in days, while Robert was the perfect patient when he busted his knee when they went hiking one time, Eva was the worst.

“It’s pretty impossible for me pregnant, just so you know.” She says breaking him out of his thoughts as they wait for the ER doctor and the results of all her tests. “Even when we weren’t playing it safe, I never slipped up.”

“It surprises me that you didn’t jump at the opportunity to baby trap me.” He countered making her falter when he looked at her too intently.

“Please, your damn eyes had the guilt eating me up inside the whole time, its why I couldn’t say yes to a lifelong commitment to you. As much I ended up loving you, I just couldn’t look you in the eye without knowing I had used you.” Eva admits and now he’s the one looking away feeling conflicted.

Rob had been told the worst of her and his family couldn’t help but fan the flames of his loathing for her after they were proven right.

And yet he is here because there is a thin thread tying them back together like a red string of fate and Robert’s held to it like a lifeline.

It makes her heart hurt to know that she spent most of last night researching whether she could end her pregnancy at eight to ten weeks in the state of California. The answer was yes, she could.

“I thought you liked my eyes.” Robert says knowing she’s been very appreciative of his inhumanly blue eyes. Poetry, specific paint hues and a pendant he got her with the exact shade of blue as his eyes.

“I do, it’s one of the reasons actually.” She responds and both forget its over between them. Eva could taste him in her mouth still and burned to feel him under her hands and mar his fair skin with love bites. “Made me feel as if I was naked before you.”

Bad choice of words, she thinks when his pupils dilate and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed no doubt remembering their very extensive history.

Eva had no issue with physical nakedness, especially around him. Several times she’d surprise him at work by wearing nothing under her coat or wearing nothing at all when he came home. She’d worn nothing underneath her coat the day they left on his private jet to New York. Eva would bet her wind park that was what brings them here today.

But neither Eva nor Robert can seem to speak or do anything than stare at each other as they both come to the same realization: despite the way things ended, their feelings for each other are as strong as they were then, if not stronger.

I still love you; his eyes say just as the obstetrician comes in at last.

#eva smith riley #robert fischer x oc #robert fischer #robert fischer x reader #robert fischer x eva smith #love's a state of mind fic

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domocleaning1 · 10 days ago

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allareass · 2 years ago

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Aside from removing rubbish, they can also clean surfaces and tidy up the entire site. This is essential to ensure that your building is safe for employees and visitors. These professionals will remove all the dust and dirt and leave your building looking brand new. They will also ensure that all areas are free of hazardous materials and contaminants.

Cleaning is a necessity in the workplace, but it is also important to maintain hygiene in the personal spaces of individuals. This can be done through professional cleaners and cleaning services. Depending on the specific needs, these services can range from general cleaning to deep cleaning. In addition to sweeping, vacuuming, and mopping, they can perform sanitation and disinfection processes as needed.

Sydney is Australia’s oldest city, and it’s home to many cultural attractions, universities, and a bustling central business district. However, the hectic schedules of local residents can leave little time for household chores. This is why some people hire help from a maid service to keep their homes in tip-top shape.

The best cleaners in Sydney are friendly, trained, and experienced. They offer flat rate hourly pricing and can be booked online. You can also manage your bookings, payments, and cleaner feedback online. The process is fast, convenient, and secure. You can even choose the exact date and time that works best for you. To know more about Cleaning Services Sydney, visit the All Areas website or call 1300659609.

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flooringsupply · 2 months ago

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The Ultimate Guide To Choosing The Right Timber Flooring In Sydney: For Your Home

When it comes to enhancing the aesthetic and functionality of your home, few flooring options can compete with timber. Offering a timeless look, incredible durability, and a range of style options, timber flooring in Sydney is a popular choice for homeowners looking to elevate their interiors. Whether you're building a new home, renovating an existing space, or upgrading your floors, this guide will help you navigate the world of timber flooring, offering valuable insights on types, benefits, and where to find the best options in Sydney.

Why Choose Timber Flooring in Sydney?

Timber flooring is known for its beauty and versatility, and it’s easy to see why it remains one of the most popular flooring choices. Here’s why timber flooring is ideal for homes in Sydney:

Natural Beauty: Timber floors bring warmth, texture, and a sense of timeless elegance to any room. The natural grains, rich colors, and unique patterns of timber add a luxurious appeal that can suit any style, from contemporary to rustic.

Durability and Longevity: Timber is known for its strength and durability. High-quality hardwoods like oak, blackbutt, and spotted gum can last for decades with proper care. Unlike carpets or vinyl, timber doesn’t need to be replaced frequently, making it a long-term investment in your home.

Increased Property Value: Timber flooring is a premium feature that can increase your home’s market value. Many buyers view timber floors as a desirable feature, and homes with timber floors tend to sell faster and at higher prices.

Sustainability: Timber is a renewable resource, and many timber flooring options are sourced from sustainable forests. Choosing eco-friendly timber floors ensures you're making a responsible decision for the environment while adding beauty to your home.

Easy Maintenance: Timber floors are relatively easy to maintain. Regular cleaning involves sweeping or vacuuming to remove dirt and dust, and occasional mopping with a damp cloth keeps the floor looking fresh. Unlike carpets, timber doesn’t trap allergens, making it a healthier choice for those with allergies.

Types of Timber Flooring in Sydney

When considering timber flooring for your home, there are a few options to choose from, each with its own unique features. Here’s a breakdown of the most common types of timber flooring in Sydney:

1. Solid Timber Flooring

Solid timber flooring is made from a single piece of wood, and it’s often considered the most authentic form of timber flooring. It provides the natural beauty and durability of hardwood and can be sanded and refinished multiple times throughout its life. Solid timber is ideal for creating a classic and high-end look in your home.

Popular Species: Oak, blackbutt, spotted gum, jarrah, and maple.

Best For: Living rooms, dining areas, bedrooms, and hallways.

Pros: Long lifespan, can be refinished, authentic and natural look.

Cons: Can be more expensive, susceptible to moisture and humidity changes.

2. Engineered Timber Flooring

Engineered timber flooring is made of multiple layers of wood, with a hardwood veneer on top. This design offers greater stability and resistance to temperature and humidity changes compared to solid timber. Engineered timber is often more affordable and easier to install than solid timber.

Best For: Kitchens, bathrooms, and other areas with fluctuating temperatures and humidity levels.

Pros: More stable, cost-effective, suitable for underfloor heating, versatile designs.

Cons: Cannot be sanded and refinished as many times as solid timber.

3. Hybrid Timber Flooring

Hybrid flooring combines the aesthetic appeal of timber with the resilience of other materials, such as vinyl or stone-plastic composite (SPC). It’s an ideal choice for areas that require extra durability, like kitchens, bathrooms, and high-traffic zones. Hybrid floors are water-resistant, making them a great option for homes in Sydney, where humidity can vary.

Best For: Kitchens, bathrooms, and other moisture-prone areas.

Pros: Water-resistant, highly durable, easy to maintain, budget-friendly.

Cons: Limited natural wood appearance, may not have the same premium feel as solid or engineered timber.

4. Bamboo Flooring

Bamboo is an eco-friendly alternative to traditional timber. It’s a fast-growing grass that can be harvested sustainably, making it a highly renewable resource. Bamboo flooring offers the same durability and aesthetic appeal as hardwood but at a more affordable price point. It’s available in a variety of finishes and colors to suit different tastes.

Best For: Living areas, bedrooms, and hallways.

Pros: Sustainable, durable, affordable, hypoallergenic.

Cons: Can be prone to scratches and dents in high-traffic areas, susceptible to moisture if not maintained properly.

Benefits of Timber Flooring in Sydney

Aesthetic Versatility: Timber floors come in a variety of finishes, including matte, satin, gloss, or distressed. Whether you prefer a modern, sleek appearance or a rustic, textured look, there is a timber flooring option to suit your style.

Thermal Comfort: Timber naturally insulates your home, providing a comfortable and warm environment in cooler months. This makes timber flooring an ideal choice for Sydney’s varied climate, where temperature fluctuations can occur.

Hypoallergenic: Timber flooring is naturally resistant to dust, mold, and mildew, making it a great choice for allergy sufferers. Unlike carpets, timber doesn’t trap dust mites or allergens, improving indoor air quality.

Low Environmental Impact: When sourced sustainably, timber is one of the most eco-friendly flooring options. Many timber flooring suppliers in Sydney offer products that are certified by environmental organisations, ensuring that your flooring choice supports responsible forestry practices.

Where to Buy Timber Flooring in Sydney

There are several reputable flooring suppliers and retailers in Sydney where you can find high-quality timber flooring options. Some well-known stores to consider include:

Sydney Timber Flooring: Known for offering premium-quality hardwood and engineered timber flooring, Sydney Timber Flooring offers a variety of wood species to suit different preferences.

Bunnings Warehouse: A popular DIY store, Bunnings carries a wide range of timber flooring, including solid and engineered timber, at competitive prices.

Flooring Xtra: With an extensive selection of timber flooring options from both local and international suppliers, Flooring Xtra is a trusted retailer for homeowners and contractors.

Harvey Norman: This well-known Australian retailer offers a variety of timber flooring products, with options for both DIY installation and professional services.

The Timber Flooring Centre: Specialising in timber flooring products and services, this store offers expert advice and a variety of options for your next flooring project.

Timber Flooring Maintenance Tips

To keep your timber floors looking their best, regular maintenance is essential. Here are some easy care tips:

Sweep or Vacuum Regularly: Dirt and dust can scratch the surface of timber flooring, so be sure to sweep or vacuum regularly to keep your floors clean.

Wipe Up Spills Immediately: Timber is sensitive to moisture, so it’s essential to clean up spills right away to prevent warping or staining.

Avoid Excess Water: Use a damp mop, not a soaking wet one, to clean your floors. Too much water can damage the timber and cause it to warp over time.

Polish and Refinish as Needed: Depending on the type of timber you have, you may need to periodically refinish or polish your floors to maintain their shine and protect the finish.

Conclusion

Timber flooring is a beautiful, durable, and sustainable flooring choice for any home in Sydney. With a variety of options to choose from—solid, engineered, hybrid, and bamboo—you can find the perfect timber floor to match your style, budget, and functional needs. Whether you’re upgrading an existing space or starting fresh with a new home, timber floors offer timeless appeal and long-term value that will last for years to come.

Investing in high-quality timber flooring will not only enhance the look of your home but also improve its functionality and increase its value, making it a smart decision for homeowners in Sydney.

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asestimationsconsultants · 1 month ago

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The Queen Victoria Building: Sydney's Architectural Masterpiece

The Queen Victoria Building (QVB) is not only one of Sydney’s most iconic landmarks but also a stunning example of Victorian-era architecture. Located in the heart of Sydney's shopping district on George Street, the QVB is a historical treasure that seamlessly combines old-world charm with modern-day retail. With its beautiful architecture, fascinating history, and a wide variety of shops, the Queen Victoria Building offers a unique experience for visitors and locals alike. Whether you're admiring the building's intricate design, shopping for luxury goods, or simply exploring its rich history, the QVB stands as a testament to Sydney's enduring elegance and cultural heritage.

Historical Significance of the Queen Victoria Building

The Queen Victoria Building was originally built in 1898 and was designed by the architect George McRae. The construction of the QVB was part of a larger initiative to revitalize Sydney’s central business district, which had become overcrowded and outdated by the late 19th century. The building was named in honor of Queen Victoria, who was the monarch at the time, marking a period of prosperity and growth for the British Empire.

Originally intended as a market space, the QVB housed various merchants and tradespeople, with stalls selling everything from food to clothing. Over time, the building evolved and became a central hub for shopping in Sydney, as it offered a luxurious environment for both high-end and everyday retail. However, by the mid-20th century, the Queen Victoria Building faced significant decline. In the 1950s, plans were even made to demolish the building to make way for more modern constructions.

Luckily, the QVB was saved from demolition in the 1970s, thanks to the efforts of local citizens and preservationists who recognized the building's architectural and historical importance. A major restoration project was completed in 1986, which helped restore the building to its former grandeur and solidified its status as one of Sydney's most beloved landmarks.

Today, the Queen Victoria Building is not just an important historical site but a vibrant shopping center, attracting millions of visitors each year.

What to Do at the Queen Victoria Building

Visiting the Queen Victoria Building offers a range of experiences beyond just shopping. Whether you’re interested in the architecture, the shopping experience, or simply enjoying the ambiance, the QVB provides something for everyone.

Admire the Architecture: The Queen Victoria Building is a prime example of Romanesque Revival architecture, with its grand facades, soaring arches, and intricate detailing. Some of the standout architectural features include:

The Dome: The QVB’s stunning glass and iron dome is one of its most recognizable features. The dome, which is over 20 meters in diameter, is adorned with beautiful stained glass windows and intricate ironwork, creating a majestic atmosphere. The dome was fully restored during the 1980s renovation and is now a central focal point of the building.

The Stairs and Balconies: The building has multiple levels connected by grand staircases and open balconies, offering sweeping views of the shops below and the building's ornate details.

The Clock: One of the most famous elements of the QVB is its clock, which hangs above the main floor. The clock, installed in 1932, features the face of Queen Victoria and chimes on the hour, adding to the building's majestic presence.

The Tiles and Mosaics: The floors of the Queen Victoria Building are covered in beautiful marble tiles, with intricate mosaic patterns. Many of these details reflect the building's original Victorian style, providing visitors with a sense of history as they walk through the space.

Shopping: The Queen Victoria Building is home to a wide variety of shops, ranging from luxury boutiques to well-known high-street retailers. Some of the most notable stores include:

High-End Fashion: The QVB is renowned for its luxury retail options, featuring stores like Chanel, Gucci, Louis Vuitton, and Tiffany & Co. Visitors can indulge in a little retail therapy and browse the latest collections from some of the world’s most prestigious brands.

Australian Designers: The building also showcases Australian talent, with stores like Akira Isogawa, Camilla, and Zimmermann, offering everything from stylish clothing to unique accessories.

Specialty Stores: For those interested in unique and locally crafted goods, the QVB also features a selection of specialty stores offering Australian jewelry, homewares, gourmet food, and handmade crafts.

Bookshops and Art Galleries: The QVB also has a bookstore and art galleries, making it a destination for those seeking intellectual and artistic pursuits in addition to retail.

Cafes and Dining: The Queen Victoria Building has a variety of cafes and restaurants, perfect for a break after shopping or sightseeing. The eateries range from casual coffee shops to fine dining establishments, including the famous QVB Tea Rooms:

QVB Tea Rooms: Located on the top floor of the building, the Tea Rooms are a highlight of any visit. This elegant space offers a quintessentially British tea experience, complete with a wide range of teas, scones, sandwiches, and cakes. The traditional tea service is a favorite for locals and tourists alike, providing a taste of luxury in a beautiful setting.

The Glasshouse: For those who prefer a more modern dining experience, The Glasshouse offers contemporary Australian cuisine and stunning views of the QVB's interior.

Café and Restaurants: There are also several other casual cafes and dining spots around the building, perfect for a quick snack or a leisurely meal.

Heritage Tours: For history enthusiasts, the QVB offers heritage tours that explore the building’s past, architecture, and the restoration efforts that preserved it. These tours offer a fascinating glimpse into the history of the building, detailing its construction, decline, and eventual rebirth. Guided tours are available, and you can also explore the QVB at your own pace with audio guides.

Special Events and Exhibitions: The Queen Victoria Building hosts a variety of special events throughout the year, from art exhibitions to cultural festivals and seasonal celebrations. The events often include performances, art installations, and educational programs, making it a great place to explore Sydney's vibrant cultural scene.

Photography and Sightseeing: The QVB is an architectural wonder, making it an ideal place for photography. Whether you're capturing the beauty of the glass dome, the ornate clock, or the bustling shopping galleries, the building offers plenty of opportunities to snap some memorable photos. It's also a great place for sightseeing, given its central location in the heart of Sydney.

When to Visit the Queen Victoria Building

The Queen Victoria Building is open seven days a week, making it easy to visit at any time. However, certain times of the year offer a more unique experience:

Holiday Seasons (December to January): During the Christmas season, the QVB is beautifully decorated, with a grand Christmas tree and festive lights that make it even more magical. This is one of the busiest times of year, so be prepared for crowds, but it's also one of the most visually stunning periods to visit.

Autumn (March to May): Autumn is a great time to visit, as the weather is mild and the crowds are usually smaller than in the peak summer months. The QVB's proximity to other key attractions, such as Hyde Park and Darling Harbour, makes it a great stop while exploring Sydney’s city center.

Winter (June to August): During the cooler months, the QVB offers a cozy retreat with its warm atmosphere, perfect for a shopping spree or a relaxing afternoon tea. The crowds are thinner compared to the summer months, so it’s a quieter experience.

Spring (September to November): Spring is another ideal time to visit, as the weather is pleasant, and the building’s historical architecture provides a beautiful contrast to the blooming flowers in nearby parks like Hyde Park.

How to Plan Your Journey to the Queen Victoria Building

The Queen Victoria Building is centrally located in the Sydney Central Business District (CBD), making it easily accessible from most parts of the city.

By Train: The nearest train station is Town Hall Station, which is just across the street from the QVB. From the station, it’s a short walk to the building.

By Bus: Several bus routes pass near the Queen Victoria Building, including stops on George Street and York Street.

By Car: There are several parking stations in the area, including QVB Car Park, located beneath the building. However, parking can be expensive, especially during peak hours.

Walking: If you’re staying in the city center, the Queen Victoria Building is easily within walking distance from popular attractions like Pitt Street Mall, Darling Harbour, and Hyde Park.

Why the Queen Victoria Building is So Famous

The Queen Victoria Building is famous for its elegant Victorian architecture, rich history, and its position as a cultural and retail hub in the heart of Sydney. It’s not just a shopping mall—it's a piece of Sydney's history, a place where architecture, culture, and commerce converge. The QVB is a celebration of both old-world charm and modern-day luxury, making it one of the city's most beloved and visited landmarks.

Its restoration in the 1980s preserved its unique features, ensuring that future generations can experience its grandeur and beauty. From the grand dome and clock to the beautifully restored tiles and mosaics, the Queen Victoria Building stands as a testament to Sydney's architectural heritage and its commitment to preserving history for future generations. Whether you're visiting for a leisurely afternoon of shopping, a special event, or simply to admire its stunning design, the Queen Victoria Building remains one of the must-see attractions in Sydney.

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