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moth-in-the-moon · 5 months

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Howdy I was that first ask (sorry I'd rather stay anon, bad xmen fandom experiences taught me to keep my opinions to myself or people will go after you personally). I'm only answering now cuz it doesn't look like we got the same timezones : I found your blog after looking up Margali related stuff (I needed this) and saw the reblog with the tag about "messy timeline". I like putting together timeline charts for my favs so I pulled out my Nightcrawler related one (slightly messy from following Si Spurrier's runs) and decided to give a shot to X-Men Blue. Big mistake. I should have listened to you. My 10 years in the making timeline chart is now only good for the dumpster and I'm done with Si.

I sent my ask to you because everyone is very hush hush about these kinds of complains and I just wanted you to know you weren't alone.

Okay so, I don't hate the Golden Child on her own, it's... How she came to be was unnecessary weird (genetically Kurt is as much her grandpa as he is her dad, wtf). What a weird road to go down instead of having her be like Cardinal. You know the chimera engineered from Nightcrawler's DNA +2 mutants that's straight up Azazel with red hair and eyes ? From PoX ? (Not sure if the editors remember him at all)

Funny stuff about Azazel btw, the demon thing was a retcon on his mutant status done after Austen left (he's back to being a mutant since 2019), Azazel keeps close contact with other Winding Way witches than Margali and Nightcrawler's ectrodactyly might have come from him too because he has been shown in a few comics (when doing his behind the scenes scheming with no one else around) to have that at least for his hands and uses his shapeshifting to hide it... For reasons.

I personally never cared about the Baron because he was a nothing character ? Man didn't even have a first name or canon appearance until TAS and his lastname's a plothole. This gets to the point where having him and Azazel turn out to be the same person, like a secret identity to the latter dude, would actually be an improvement and funny idea.

You're right, that "beloved darling child" is a straight up joke when looking at Mystique and Destiny's actions : They adopted and raised Rogue in 616 since she was a CHILD, raised both her and Kurt together in the "Children in the attic" what-if (Scott Lobdell but Mystique didnt throw Nightcrawler into a waterfall to save herself. Still calls Rogue the child she "always wanted" even then) and straight up let Nightcrawler die saving Hope when they were ready to sacrifice her as a baby to save Rogue (Kurt's death was avoidable and Mystique didn't know he'd be back to life like ever).

Mystique also raised Nightcrawler from birth in Age of Apocalypse where everything is Hell and he gets killed (Apocalypse attacks long after he was born so it's the same chain of events until that) and kept close contact and looked after Destiny's many human children, mutant grandchildren and grand-grandchildren throughout the years in 616... To the point of killing Graydon Creed, her biological son which she kept close watch on until his teens, to protect them. Kurt turns out to have been neglected more by her than Graydon at this point following this one shot.

The change made here on the "definite origin story" complicates and contradict stuff for no reason. It also adds another layer of unanswered questions which goes against the point of a definite story

"Why would Mystique and Destiny plan on having this kid, finally have him then straight up abandon him because of a 'sudden vision' when one of them is a precog who checks the future 24/7 to be sure everything goes perfectly fine but apparently kept things going when she saw 0 futures with that baby in it post due-date and never even once wrote about said baby in her future diaries for Mystique to do stuff for him in the future when she was gone (contrary to Rogue the child they adopted) ?" Si Spurrier doesn't care to think about important elements like that and just keeping throwing stuff on a wall to see what sticks

"Why didn't they rescue Nightcrawler before Xavier at any point and recruit him/secretly raise him with Rogue ?" Nightcrawler's first appearance was him literally running away from a mob (canonically not his first) before being saved by Xavier, one of the 3 people Mystique and Destiny were going to assassinate in their first appearance (Days of Future Past) which directly led to Nightcrawler being one of the first (avoidable) mutant casualties of that timeline. So even without years of baggage, these two didn't care about Kurt within their first X-Men issue with him. But sure the answer to this is probably the future vision excuse again I bet...

Well tell that to Margali Szardos, the circus fortune teller who managed to properly raise Kurt and protect him with half the power, wealth, means, knowledge and people. Oh wait we can't cuz she ded (Weird coincidence that the same writer behind this story which tries to make Mystique and Destiny look like the best moms for Nightcrawler turned Kurt's actual good mom into the complete opposite of who she was then unceremoniously killed her...)

Mystique has also spent her time using her knowledge of his origins as way to get him to do stuff for her then lied about them over and over again (this story makes it the third time she lied). Something she never hesitated or regretted doing

Then you have... Krakoa. So much to say. Most recent example ? Mystique and Destiny abandoned Kurt (for the 2nd time now) in the Sins of Sinister timeline when they left the island before he got switched with his sinister clone and Margali did her full corruption thing. They straight up ignored him when he grew horns in present time from beginning to end. He gets mind-controlled, murders people and has to leave to an Orchis filled Earth without keeping in touch with anyone, no reaction whatsoever from them

This reveal just turned Mystique and Destiny from bad to god awful parents in general (it looks like they never cared because they never raised him themselves) and yet the story pretends otherwise

One, before I get into anything, BIIIG ask. I've never had an ask that big. Two, Before I get into anything, Cardinal my beloved, my son, my beautiful beautiful boy, he and god baby should both be canon and like. weird universeally/timeline displaces siblings. A thing about Cardinal that I personally think is an interesting concept is how, being part Rachel (so a descendant of Jean) would make him probably be on the Phoenixes list of favourite hosts, which I think could be interesting with his anti-violence genes (<- whatever the fuck that was). Also they should remember him, since they made Rasputin 4 canon (I have my complaints about her genetic make up too, considering shes part. illyana and piotr.) Again, long thoughts under the read more

Yeah, again I completely agree on the neglect paart. The reveal managed to make Destiny and Mystique even more horrible parents, but it's trying to paint them as loving their son, which, is kinda nonsensical with past context. As I said, this retcon at this point in time is bad for the characters BECAUSE of the years of plot from the past. From mystique caring for other children to how they both act towards Kurt throughout things like Krakoa, it doesnt really add up. Plus, what would be the reason for them to not tell him sooner? Did destiny specifically see Kurt get a sick ass magic sword and go "this is incredibly important to the timeline" and thats why they stayed quiet? Having them make destiny and raven be heartbroken about the baby having to go and having the description literally be like "neither of us ever had any kids because of love until we decited to have you" It's a whiplash that could technically work if built up right, but this wasn't built up. Because I do think this could've worked with better set up, but its too late for that.

And yeah no, there have been what-ifs of mystique "successfully" raising Kurt, so it just makes the vision a weirdly cruel plotpoint. Plus that means Destiny is now canonically at fault for all that happened to Kurt, because she knew and actively set it in motion through this retcon. Which. is a wild thing to accidentally do.

Though I do like the moment where Mystique is like "I wished for a daughter", that feels fitting to her and kurts relationship.

Also this does make Kurt doing his "make 'em talk by letting them freefall under the threat of letting them splat" to Destiny funnier. You go boy, threaten matricide!

And man, yeah, Margali wasn't a perfect mom, but we have many scenes of her being a good mom or at least trying to be (specifically for kurt). Shout out to her calling Kurt her specialest boy that one time, she loved her baby. We need a Margali comic about her and her powers honestly, she's canonically one of the strongest sorcerers ever, bound by the moody nature of a living dimension, it would be so interesting to see how the way actually effects her and if she's like, bound to certain actions by the way, lest it destroys her or something. She is the sorcerer supreme of it iirc so there is a very specific connection here, especially since the wandering way is alive. With Kurt having the magic sword now too, it would be interesting for margali to come back (cause lets be real, she isnt gonna stay dead (<- threat. by me. at the comics.) and maybe teach him magic or how to work with magic. Let them actually work out the cracks in their relationship, show that they both do love eachother, but time and everything that has come up just kept tearing at them and margalis laissez-faire nature and following of the winding way didnt really help.

also man, krakoa was a good fun idea, i hate that they killed her, you couldve done alot of good with krakoa, the writers were just on their "uuuuh. shit we cant have mutants be happy" path again

#moth answers #less things to say on this one #long post #i really want a margali comic #i think she could be so interesting as a protagonist #she knows alot of outside characters too #make her visit the magic school!#she could teach about like. familiars or bonding with a magic source #also she knows wanda #i cant help but point at that #that is a canon thing that happened once and was never adressed if i remember correctly #she met wanda in a dream when wanda was a kid #wanda has a great comic series rn where she interracted with a bunch of characters that havent had a good amount of screentime (I think)#like Luna and Viv #Have margali show up and talk to her about issues #maybe have them meet up in dreams again!!#like margali calling out to wanda from the fuckin. glow ball dimension and ask wanda for help getting out #thank youuuuu rebecca for the glow orbs #<- mother righteouses name #i think she should be Natalie but yknow #yes I know shes supposed to represent his wife but the sinisters being three nathaniels and one rebecca is just so EH

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riverdalepolycule · 8 months

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HYOLO RANKING✨

it's been long enough I've developed my opinions

(ALL of this album is spectacular this is just Nataly vision)

1. Killin Me Good

2. Don't wanna go back ft. HEIZE

3. Room

4. Wishing on you

5. Nightmare

6. Talkin about it ft. 24kGoldn

7. Closer

#some of these choices surprise me too but Jihyo turning the Earth (Nataly's personal music taste) on it's axis in nothing new #posting this for me alone i guess and Coinneach if he sees cause he's my only twice mutual #if you're reading this tho STREAM THIS!!! its really soooooo good i would never lie okay thank you #Jihyo #mine #Nataly's music library

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mpaulluvr666 · 2 years

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Jane Eyre (2011)/ “It’s Not Just Me, It’s Everybody” Weyes Blood.

#mwahahahaha local girl figures out WEB WEAVING!!!!#surrender to my wrath!!! jane eyre sicko mode posting babeyyyy #jane eyre #jane eyre 2011 #anyway weyes blood new song made me ill in a really good way so beautiful natalie

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mysunshinetemptress · 1 month

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2007

Leah Williamson x brothers best friend!reader

Warnings: thought I better post something so here’s part 2 of 2005, slow burn to shit

You huffed taking a breath after passing the ball up the pitch to find Jacobs feet letting out a smile as you sprinted towards the boy ready to congratulate him on the goal "what a goal Jacob." Jacob grabbed you squeezing you tightly "that long ball assist Y/n I swear you have gotten so good." The pair smiled at each other before hearing Amanda and Natalie screaming at them to get back to their positions as their opponents took tip to restart.

Leah couldn’t help but laughed at the six year old holding her medal looking at it like she had won the World Cup "happy with it then." You looked up at the now ten year old "I know it doesn't compare to any of your Arsenal medals Lee but this is my first one." Leah smiled grabbing the medal to look at it "nah this medal is better then any of my ones trust me." You couldn't help but smile happily as you grabbed the older girls hand walking to the car. "Hey don't leave me behind." The pair turned to Jacob as he ran up holding his golden boot trophy under his arm "Leah, Y/n guess what Dad told me there's trials at Tottenham and that I could go he signed me up already." Leah smiled at her younger brother "that's great buddy you will do amazing, but Y/n." You looked up at Leah "what do we think of Tottenham." You looked around quickly for any parents that might scold you before whispering to Leah "shit." Leah laughed before continuing on "and what do we think of shit." You couldn’t help but smile at Jacob as he pretend to be annoyed "Tottenham." Leah laughed swinging her hand that was holding Y/n’s "that's my girl." Jacob let out a laugh "no it's no she's my best friend." Leah smiled tugging you towards her "oh yeah bet you can't take her away from me." The pair gotten into a friendly fight of pulling and pushing you between each other as you laughed.

Jacob had been gone all day at the Tottenham trial as you sat in the front garden waiting for any sign of him. Amanda looked out her window watching the younger girl smiling softly before going out to you "hi missus what are you doing sat out here." You looked up smiling softly at the older woman "waiting for Jacob so we can play." Amanda looked at you confused"oh honey he won't be home till Sunday night did he not tell you his dad and him are going to the match tomorrow after his trials today." You sighed standing up dusting yourself off letting out a quite oh in disappointment, Amanda's eyes softened as she looked at the girl "I'll tell you what is your Mum home." You nodded "right then let's head inside while I talk to her for a second." You sat in between Charlie and Melia tapping your leg against the couch as you anxiously waited to see what the older women were talking about, “Y/n stop moving your leg it’s so annoying” Melia snarled as she let out a huff you apologised quietly stopping your movements before your mum called for you "Hey Pumpkin could you come here for a second." You raced off the couch happy to get away from your sisters and into the kitchen. "I was just talking to your Mum and Leah and I have a spare ticket to the Arsenal women's match in Meadow park tomorrow as well why don't you come with me to Leah's training for Arsenal you can see what it's like tonight and your Mum has said if I think your good you can have a sleepover yeah." Your eyes lit up like you had just been told you was getting a puppy "can I really that would be so cool." Amanda smiled at the young girl "go get your clothes and head over to me when your ready then we will go get leah alright." You didn't need to be told twice as you raced up the stairs.

You stood on the sidelines watching the older girls go through their drills as Amanda stood beside her "you ok Y/n." You didn't take your eyes off the scene in front of you but nodded letting out a soft hum. The girls had broken into pair's practicing their passing when Leah looked around realising they where a player down "Lucy pair off with Casey I'll get a new partner." Leah walked over towards her Mum and the younger girl "everything alright Bubs." Leah smiled nodding at her mum "all good we are just a player short Y/n want to pass with me." Your eyes sparkled nodding your head before grabbing her hand as the older girl led you over before grabbing the ball "right stand here and we are doing long passes y/n just like in the back garden yeah." You nodded getting ready to receive the ball "and don't worry if yours goes the wrong way alright” Amanda couldn't help the smile that took over her face as she watched the pair pass back and forth you concentrating extra hard trying to make sure you could connect it to Leah as best as possible. "That was perfect y/n now this one is chipping it yeah” you nodded again getting ready to receive the ball. Leah's teammates watched on amazed as the six year old connected some of the balls to Leah as well as received it on a first touch no problem.

You was passed out in the back of the car on the drive home as the trio made their way back both Leah and Amanda keeping an eye on the younger girl making sure she was comfortable "I think you have a teammate in a few years Bubba." Leah smiled watching you sleep.

You woke up excitement coursing through her with the realisation that they would be going to an Arsenal match today. Leah groaned at the sound of her door opening "Lee it's match day." Leah let out a huff "I know but shhh it's not time to get up yet y/n go back to sleep." You sighed before looking at Leah “can I stay in here.” Leah sighed pulling open her duvet “come on.” You smiled running over to her and snuggling into Leah's chest closing your eyes as Leah welcomed it knowing she would get a lie in.

The pair had been screaming the minute Arsenal where lead out by Kelly Smith all the way to the final whistle when Leah had grabbed your hand pulling her in front of her as the players began their lap "stand here they might come over then mum can take a picture yeah." You nodded watching excitedly as Alex Scott came over "hi there what's your name "Y/n oh my god your Alex Scott you’re my favourite." Alex smiled looking at Leah "who's this then "you smiled at the older girl "this is my second best friend Leah she's a massive Arsenal fan." Alex laughed at Leah's offended face at the second place she had just been awarded "shall we take a photo and sign something." You nodded turning to smile at the camera Amanda was holding beside Leah grabbing her hand as a comfort before turning back to Alex "I don't have anything for you to sign but Leah has her jersey." Alex smiled signing Leah's jersey before looking around "I'll tell you what have mine I'll sign it." You nodded you head enthusiastically muttering out a thank you before Alex began taking off her jersey. Leah couldn't help but laugh as she watched the likes of Kelly Smith and Rachel Yankey make there way over offering to sign the jersey and Isla refusing but taking a photo instead stating it was an Alex Scott jersey and she was the only signature allowed (something that both you and Alex would laugh about shortly after becoming friends)

The excitement of the Arsenal match lingered in the air as you and Leah made your way back home. "That was amazing, Lee!" you exclaimed, your eyes still sparkling from meeting some of the players. Leah grinned, her excitement matching yours. "I'm glad you enjoyed it, Y/n. Maybe one day, you'll be out there playing with them." The thought made your heart race with excitement. "I'd love that, Lee! I'll train hard, just like you do." Leah tousled your hair affectionately. "I have no doubt about that, Y/n. You're a natural."

As the days passed, you found yourself spending more and more time on the pitch, honing your skills and soaking in every bit of advice Leah offered. You were determined to improve, fueled by your passion for the game and the dream of one day playing for Arsenal (or Man United) just like Leah.

At Leah's next training session, you were invited to join in a mini-match with some of the younger players. Your heart pounded with excitement as you stepped onto the field, wearing a borrowed Arsenal jersey that was a bit too big for you. But none of that mattered as you chased after the ball, dribbling past defenders with a skill that surprised even yourself.

Leah watched proudly from the sidelines, cheering you on with Amanda by her side. As the final whistle blew, you collapsed onto the grass, exhausted but exhilarated. "You were amazing out there, Y/n!" Leah exclaimed, rushing over to give you a high-five. You grinned up at her, feeling a sense of accomplishment like never before.

That night, as you lay in bed replaying the day's events in your mind, you couldn't shake the feeling of pure joy that filled your heart. Whether it was scoring goals on the pitch or simply spending time with Leah.

#woso #awfc #woso fanfics #woso one shot #woso imagine #leah williamson #leah williamson x y/n #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson x you #woso blurbs #woso x reader #woso community #woso soccer #woso couples

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russellsppttemplates · 5 months

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George saying you are pregnant in the post race interview and Max and Charles interrupt saying you guys plan to name your child after them until George tells them the baby is a girl

"George, what are your plans for the winter break?", one of the journalists asked, making him grab his microphone, "I really want to go home so I can sleep on my bed, and spend time with my family", he smiled.

"Yes, next year we'll have a new addition to the paddock", Charles smirked, "I can't wait to get them a Ferrari onesie, our merch shop has this really cute one with a vintage car".

"I wouldn't bother because they're going to name the baby Max, after me", the Dutch driver said. "Y/N and I have been friends for a while, and my wife spends most of the race weekends with her. It's obviously going to be Charles, it's a very pretty name after all", the monegasque retorted.

"Tell us now, George, are those names you and Y/N are considering?", Natalie chuckled, enjoying the banter between them.

"Actually, none of those names are on the list", he smiled, "we are having a little girl, so Max and Charles haven't been the ones we're leaning into", George said as the whole room awe'd and gasped at the new information. While he kept his private life usually that, private, there was often a picture with his family or a picture of your baby bump, so to have this new information was different.

"Congratulations, then! I may be biased, but I find Natalie to be a really good name, it's not too short, not too big, so, you know, you can consider it!", Natalie added. "We are pretty set on one of them, but we'll keep that one in mind", George smiled at her.

(Thank you for submitting an ask 🤍)

#george russell blurb #inês writes blurbs #f1 blurb #f1 x reader

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bonbonshideout · 1 month

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Ticci Toby headcanons

Pre-Slender

♤ He's clingy. If he likes someone or is even remotely comfortable, he would follow them around just to feel comfortable.

♡ He's... playful, he isn't the brightest, but he would try and play some pranks if he can, usually learn about you and see what can get you upset & use that on you.

◇ Mf got that crow brain. He would see anything shiny and take it. He's got a growing collection and even looks for things to give to his favorite people. Lyra originally gave him a box to store the items in, but it started growing a bit 'out of control', and so he has shelves and other boxes with random nick-nacks.

♧ His little cow? Lyra, 100%. When he was younger he had a lot to deal with and Lyra wasn't always able to be with him so she saved up some birthday money and bought him a cow plush, due to it being from his sister, he's kept it and carried it literally everywhere with him. Multiple rips and tears, but his mom always fixed it up for him. He loved it and would take to around as he grew older, though he didn't have it out in public like he did when he was younger.

♤ His hoodie is one of a kind and handmade. His mom was the one to have made it. Originally, he wanted a hoodie that was like any other, but he couldn't puck between a couple of them; his mom, in the end, decided to create a simple looking hoodie for him.

Post-Slender

♤ He doesn't remember much. Yeah, he might get occasional flashbacks, but they leave him confused. He wants to figure out what they mean but at the same time he's a bit scared of doing so.

♡ His hoodie? he loves it, covered in patches of different colors, or at least he tries to color match.

◇ He still has his cow, but he doesn't carry it around as much. He keeps it in a safe place; having a connection to it but not knowing its origins anymore. He baby's it occasionally when he does take it out of his little storage area. That thing has gone through way too much, put it out of its misery already.

♧ Lyra's spirit haunts him, but it's not supposed to be much of a tormentor; though he sees it that way, Lyra is trying to guide him in life. I believe the operator's doing some shit to his mind that's causing him to see Lyra's spirit as vengeful, or it's simply creating an image of Lyra and whispering into Toby's mind about he's at fault for everything.

♤ He's still got that crow brain, still finding things to give to people (Natalie) , a pretty rock, maybe a button, anything he finds, he takes it and saves them.

♡ He's strangely affectionate, he isn't the type to be overbearing, but he likes to hug Natalie whenever he can, usually she accepts them, but there are times where she isn't in a good mood and it upsets him a little— he gets over it quickly though.

◇ He's terrified of cars and probably motorcycles, too (blame Nat for that one). Occasionally, though, he is forced into either one due to Natalie for faster transportation. He hates it and curses her out through the whole ride, but he does see how convenient it is.

♧ In Spanish, there's a term for kids who don't know anything, the "no sabo" kid. He is that type of kid, but with German. He knows very little, and even then, he can't form proper sentences. He's trying to learn when he isn't busy murdering people or starting fires. Usually asking Natalie to help him out— even though she doesn't speak German— he just wants someone to practice it with.

♤ He HATES being seen as vulnerable or lesser than. He doesn't really know why to the full extent, but he does know that it just sucks. He wants people to know that he can do as much as anyone else can, heck, maybe more and better.

♡ I wanna say he had an ego, but it's more playful. He jokes about having a huge ego, but he could care less if 'someone offends him' (aside from the previous hc).

I feel like some of these collide with some headcanons a friend might have? idk, I honestly forgot his entire essay 💀

#bonbonshideout #creepypasta #creepypasta fandom #headcanons #ticci toby #toby erin rogers #toby rogers #ticci toby headcanons

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cambrinkisbae · 18 days

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*•♡never be like you ♡¸.•*'

nika muhl x cheerleader!reader

"I wanna hold the hand inside you. I wanna take the breath that's true"

word count - 3.4k

themes :

-fluff

-comfort

-toxic rls

warnings :

-arguing

-mentions to abuse

-explicit language

-iowa winning

A/N - did I get you guys. y'all really thought I would wait any longer to post this....

"can we please not do this ash."

i practically pleaded for my boyfriend to not argue with me before a big performance.

it was the day I had been waiting for since I was ever even notified that there would be a uconn game against iowa. I couldn't be dealing with relationship issues right before.

i attempted slipping on my skirt in the bathroom while my boyfriends voice was ringing in my ear no matter how much I tried to ignore it. I hate arguments. especially when they are stupid and have no point in even happening.

"no we are doing this now I don't care! you need to tell me the truth before you leave." Asher growled from outside the bathroom door. part of me wanted to swing the door open and break his nose but I knew that I didn't have time for that. so I gently but swiftly opened the door and forced my eyes into his with probably the most 'i'm not fucking around right now' look I'd ever given him. which is shocking with all of the arguments we've gotten into.

"Asher just fucking stop! I wasn't anywhere, I was literally sitting on the bench waiting for katie to pick me up! why is that so hard for you to comprehend." I pull my face away from his and before I could close the door and continue getting ready I whisper under my breath "its like you want me to cheat on you." the door was about to latch onto the door frame when his pale and veiny hand gripped onto the wooden edge. "what the fuck did you just say?" shit.

he then swung the door open with a force I've never seen before and a wave of fear flushed through my head. there were already tears welling up in my eyes from the yelling and now this just made them fall down my face. inside I was screaming incoherently at his face, slamming the door on his fingers and bashing his head around the room.

this has happened too many times. where we argue and I end up bruised or crying and I have to walk to Natalie's place and cry even more but into her arms instead. there's been too many times where Asher gets away with shit that no other man could get away with. and too many fucking times have I stayed.

his hand was peeled away from the edge of the door and I swear there was hot lava falling out from his eyes instead of guilt tripping tears. "why do you do this to me y/n? it hurts." he dramatically let his hand fall into his palms as more tears fell from his clearly angered eyes. most times I would let myself feel guilty and sorry for him as if I was the one that did the hurting. but this time I was done. nothing was officially over but the moment definitely was. he's going to have to find a way to win my attention back this time.

i tightened my pony tail and grabbed my cheer bag before walking out of our apartment, slamming the door behind me. it was so early in the morning that the sun was only rising as I walked out the door. I'm almost positive that everyone else on the team was asleep so I had to walk to practice. I was only a couple steps into my long walk when a car pulled up in front of me. well not in front but beside me. I continued walking until a window was rolled down and I heard a familiar voice call out.

"yo are you good?"

i was not. I had tears streaming down my face and I probably looked like I was just thrown in a pit of piranhas, but I cant say that.

"huh?" I turn my head to the side to see a white BMW pulled over. the voice I had heard earlier had a very memorable accent in it. Nika Muhl. 5'10 point guard. pretty hair. pretty eyes. just pretty.

"are you okay?" another voice reached out from the drivers seat of the car. Paige Bueckers of course. I finally looked down from my own height and saw a the brunette looking up at me with kinda eyes. her head was slightly tilted to the side while she waited for me to answer her question. "oh. uh." I waited a moment.

just before this I was telling myself that I wasn't going to put up with asher's bullshit anymore. that included hiding what was going on. Asher put me through shit. I mean he curb stomped my head on a pile of shit and dragged my face through it with his bare hands and never felt any regret.

"n-no not really." yeah I did that. fuck you Asher. the feeling of just admitting that I wasn't made the rest of my tears started to drain back into my eye sockets. I could see it in Nika's eyes that she felt bad even if she was smiling and laughing. she popped open the car door and tapped her lap. "well c'mon." she swayed her head, gesturing for me to literally crawl over her lap and get into the backseat, as there isn't a back door. I didn't want to be rude so I sighed and crawling over Nika's lap and into the backseat. I was hovering over her long enough to smell the beachy sunscreen smelling perfume she had on. her hands grazed my thigh that was exposed after my skirt had started to hang down from my position. thank God the cheer uniforms had shorts under the skirts because when I was almost in the back seat next to Ice Brady and KK Arnold, my skirt lifted up right in Nika's face. I almost fell face first into the backseat before I felt Nika's hands grip onto my waist to support me until I was sitting down. I let out a sharp and quick sigh while fixing my hair and and un-ruffling my skirt, I looked into the driver seat to see Paige holding back tears of laughter. I could practically see how red Nika was from the back of the head rest she had her hair pressed against.

i didn't expect the car ride to be as comforting as it was. the entire drive was basically just the girls either singing or asking me questions about cheer. it was all fine before Nika decided to speak up about why I was sobbing on the sidewalk.

"so what was going on with you earlier? before we very obviously saved your ass." I couldn't help but laugh at her remark but quickly got more serious when Paige turned down the music so everyone could hear me. I felt like I was put on a stage with a microphone in a pretty pink dress waiting to win Miss America with everyone's eyes on me while they waited for me to answer.

"oh it was nothing just stuff about my boyfriend...." I tried to shake off the question even though a part of me wanted to scream how much I hated him. I trailed off and glanced to the side to find an unconvinced KK staring at me. KK is funny, I always see her jumping around after a win and shes always filled with energy.

I shrugged and threw my head back before actually giving in. "fine. he's like, really shitty honestly. I want to break up but I can't." the car was silent for a couple seconds while I patiently waited for someone to speak. "what way of shitty? like wants to break up constantly but wont or like- another way of shitty" Paige asked without making any eye contact.

another way for sure. every other way that you could think of Paige.

"guilt tripping manipulative way I guess?" I said, my voice slightly cracking. Nika clicked her tongue as she reached around her seat and looked back at you. "you know you don't have to stay. I know its hard to not stay but you aren't obligated to stay." thank you. that the only thing I was needing to hear in the past year I had been with Asher. I know I'm not obligated to stay with him but Jesus it feels like it. "thanks." the car ride was silent for a couple more minutes before Paige pulled into the driveway of my cheer practice building.

I was just about to get out of the car before realizing that ice was in front of the door I should've been getting out of. I had to crawl over Nika's lap again. I tossed my duffel bag into her lap and its like she could read my brain when she opened her door and gently set the bag out side. but this time she put down her car seat so that there was a (mainly) flat surface for me to crawl over. instead of crawling, I lifted my feet over Nika's body first and then slid myself over her. my ass gently bumps against her lap, almost sending a loud gasp from my lips. there her hands were again. I thought everything was going by quickly but she still had enough time to wrap her fingers around my waist and lifted me from the back seat out the door.

it was honestly hard for me to speak after having to be that close to a practical stranger in the span of 20 minutes but I tried my best.

"thank you guys for the ride. good luck on your game!" as I was waving goodbye while walking down the sidewalk towards the door of the building, Nika yelled out.

"y/n? I'll see you there right?"

oh my fuck she wants to see me at the game. she actually WANTS me to be there.

all I could manage to do without folding over and passing out of the concrete was throw a thumbs up from behind me and continue walking. the moment I stepped or slid out of that car, all the thoughts came back, rushing through my head. how the fuck was I supposed to focus on cheer when my relationship was on the brink of ending. I felt tears well up in my eyes just thinking about it. obviously I wanted things to end but its been a year and a couple months. I don't know how I was going to just break up and be fine. when I swung open the doors to my cheer studio I saw coach and couple other girls sitting down, tying their shoes and fixing each other's hair. coach waved at me once I got through the door. I made my way over to the other girls and gave them each a hug with a very fake warm smile plastered on my face.

"hiii, are you okay you look like you've been crying?" Taylor spoke in a soft, caring mom kind of tone. why is everybody so worried about if I was crying or not. its not that big of a deal just let me cry. I nodded aggressively "mhm. yeah I'm good." the two girls, Taylor and Caydence, looked at each other and they obviously could see through me. I held back even more tears when they shrugged their shoulder continued talking, I knew they didn't believe me but they didn't push an answer out of me like Nika and Paige.

a part of me has always been interested in basketball but the other part kept telling me that I was talented enough or masculine enough. Nika was always an inspiration to me even before I started cheering for UConn. sometimes after practice, as long as there is no performances and I'm not being held back by my coach, I like to go to the public gym and practice basketball by myself. every time I do, I always wish that there was someone there to practice with me. that is part of the reason I went on to cheer for UConn basketball.

i was still stretching when some more girls off the team walked through the door. makeup done, lashes curled ready to go. I still sat in the corner with a couple mascara streaks running down my face. sadly, there weren't any wipes anywhere in the studio so I had to sit with dried cracky mascara on my face instead of my lashes. I stood up after stretching and actually set my bag and water bottle down at some benches before going up to my best friend, Farah, and squeezing her tightly. she had just walked through the door holding a bag with her cheer supplies and another that had a bow tied around it. it wasn't too big but definitely noticeable. my eyes were immediately drawn to it but I waited for her to bring it up after we finished hugging.

"don't act like you aren't wondering what's in here." she shook the yellow back in front of me, letting me take it out of her hands. I scrimmaged through it and found a piece of paper in the bottom. it looked blank until I flipped it over.

mother fucking Farah.

"YOU GOT ME TICKETS TO OLIVIA RODRIGO? WHAT THE FUCK?" I squealed loud enough for the entire team and coach to hear. all eyes were on me but I didn't care. there was literally no reason for Farah to do this at all. shes just a really fucking nice person. she bent over, holding her stomach with laughter pouring out of her mouth. I felt all sorts of feelings rushing through me. confusion, happiness, more confusion, a little bit of sadness because there was only one ticket at the bottom of the bag.

that when everything died down. I realized that she only got one? no way.

"wait did you-" I began to question but Farah stopped me by shoving her finger over my lips.

"nope." she pulled out her hand from her bag and there were two other tickets. why two? why two. two. fuck.

"for Asher!" she held onto my wrists more excited than she was walking inside of the studio. that giddy smile on her face fell quickly. there is no way I'm bringing Asher with to a concert that he wouldn't even give a shit about. all he'd care about is getting in my pants afterwards because my feet will hurt too much to walk away and say no. I pulled myself towards Farah's ear and whispered softly "Asher cannot come with. I'm planning on breaking up with him."

Farah's eyes widened once I pulled my mouth away from her ear. all she did was nod and dropped my hands back to my side. we walked over to the bench and continued waiting for the rest of the team to show up.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

practice went smooth. now its about to start. UConn and Iowa. fuck I'm nervous. I've been a UConn fan for years and this game is one of the things I've always wanted to see in person. they start introducing players while the cheer squad was doing our main routine to the rhythm of a random Taylor swift song. I think it's I knew you were trouble. ironic. the one thing I was not allowed myself to think of was Asher. if I wanted to think about him I would just trick myself into thinking about Nika. wait that came out wrong. anyways. I was just let down on the floor after doing a thigh stand and the team continued dancing until it was finally tip off. I scurried off the court with the rest of my team and sat to the side while a couple girls above me kept moving around with pom poms. we got the ball first and stayed in the lead for a while.

as much as I was pretending to focus on the shots all the players were making, I couldn't peel my eyes away from Nika. she was on Caitlin Clark's ass. not even letting her shoot a three pointer. shes doing so good. she had her hands surrounding the ball, barely letting Clark shoot at all. I admire her for her defensive skills. I believe her aggression really helps with that. shes passionate. she obviously wants to win but on court it looks like shes playing with her life on the line. but she does it with ease. the one thing I kept forgetting was that this could be her last college game. ever. no one knows where shell go after UConn. lots of people are saying overseas and I think that would be the death of me. I watched every move she made. not in a stalker way but in an invested in her game way. the way her hair swayed back and forth while she shuffled around Caitlin. the way she already had a couple balls of sweat falling off of her forehead. I would be lying to myself if I didn't think she looked really hot right now.

and I'm up again. Caydence was holding onto my hips before she tossed me in the air, I landed on her and angels palms before flipping off and landing feet flat on the floor. still holding a pretty fake smile on my lips. once it was someone else's turn to do a crazy flip, I took the chance and looked back at the bench, watching as Nika took multiple sips out of a Gatorade water bottle. her hand rested on Paige shoulder while she shot something that probably motivational and worded beautiful to Paige's ear.

the game was going smooth until the 4th quarter. I could feel my blood boiling while watching the timer tick lower and lower without our score going higher. this cant be happening. 3.9 seconds on the clock. I could practically feel the vibrations of every UConn fan tapping their feet waiting for someone to shoot a three pointer and give us the win. but no. a foul was called on Aaliyah. I don't think it was a foul but what do I know.

as much as I was desperate for us to win, I knew we wouldn't be taking home the win this time. 4.6 seconds. now Paige. what is it with these bullshit calls.

i never liked Iowa. in my opinion, Clark is good at basketball but can be conceited and over hyped. of course I didn't want anyone to come at me with that when Iowa "wins the natty" so i'll have to keep that in my head for now.

i started calming down, trying to accept the fact that there wasn't a point going on but they from the far side of the court I saw Caitlin Clark. the basketball player dubbed as the goat and a women's basketball savior, bounce a basketball off of her so called friend? fuck that shit. I almost stood up and sprinted across the court. me and Paige may not be close but I cant take shit like that. Farah rested her hand on my thigh, telling me to not do anything. because its "out of my control"

it could be in mine. just saying.

and just like that, number 20 gets the ball, throws it in the air, and declares the win for Iowa. I could physically feel my face getting hotter with each tear I saw fall from Nika's eyes. Iowa doesn't deserve this. they have everything. and UConn gave up everything. I couldn't stop myself from crying too. I shoved my face in my hands trying to dry the tears that were slowly ruining my eye makeup/ I feel fucking terrible. how could UConn give so much for this and barely get anything back. just the noise of all the Iowa fans cheering and laughing and the sight of them smiling made me sick. I wont even hide it. I was jealous. jealous that they had such dick riding refs.

who said that.

i wanted, so badly, to stand up and wrap my arms around Nika and Paige and Aaliyah and all the others to just give them some sort of recognition but we had to go. coach led us through the tunnel and that was it. I sat on a bench in our locker room, debating what to do.

and I figured out what to do. right then and there.

even with my hands on my forehead, crying and stressing, the inside of me was happy because I knew that someone wouldn't be feeling so bad on April 22nd.

#nika muhl #basketball #lesbian #uconn wbb #uconhuskies #paige bueckers #never be like you #Nika muhl x reader #Iowa wbb #nika x reader #cambrinkisbae

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kyoukamybeloved · 7 months

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“You sound like you’re certain he’s human.”

“There’s no way I could hate a man-made character string this much.”

“Look at us getting along so well. That’s what makes me love you!”

similar posts: 1, 2, 3

little beast - Richard Siken// art by @velaversal// I know the end - Phoebe Bridgers// cinnamon girl - Lana del Rey// This poem is want - Seema Reza// art from @seukorei// portrait of a blank slate - lovejoy// stormbringer - Kafka Asagiri// the secret history - Donna Tartt// art by @greendy2l// renegade - Taylor swift and big red machine// persuasion - Jane Austen// letters to Sartre - Simone de Beauvoir// art by @lotus-pear// pretty when you cry - Lana del Rey// for memories - wilbur// art by @liyv// Stormbringer - Kafka Asagiri// bite the hand - boygenius// shrike - hozier// Dazai Chuuya age fifteen - Kafka Asagiri// art by @thornedarrow// on a red horse - Marina Tsvetea// think of you - bleached// fragile - Molly Burton// art from dead apple manga// lonely - Natalie Wee// a loving feeling - Mitski// manga panels from Dazai Chuuya age fifteen and Dead apple// good light - Andrea Gibson// the papa and mama dance - Anne Sexton// ruin & rising - Leigh Bardugo// she is made of chalk - L.M. Dorsey// a farewell to arms - Ernest Hemingway// perfume - lovejoy// art by @j11nko// tasting the moon - Caitlyn Slehl// bonjour tristesse - Françoise Sagan// trust - Lucy Dacus// art by @pleucas// opera house / cigarettes after sex// on earth we’re briefly gorgeous - Ocean Vuong// the basket - Willa Cather// art by @pleucas// wanting - Emma Bleker//

tagging moots and some accounts who seemed to really like my other skk webweave, if you want me to untag you no worries just send me a message :)

@amagami-hime @philzokman @vivid-vices @nnavia @dazaiyuri @aelxr @bunglegaydogs @circuslemon @ricelover888 @anneme404 @charlidrawz @gorotic @oatmilkbasic @zamxii @dinosaur-mayonnaise @pendragonstar

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nolita-fairytale · 1 year

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make my heart surrender | carmy berzatto x fem!reader | chapter four: friday

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

warnings: lots of swearing, angst, use of she/her pronouns, friends to lovers, smutty smut-smut, this is an 18+ chapter so minors dni, no use of y/n, second person pov

word count: 6.7k

summary: buckle up people, because this is a long one! tonight is the night: the night you and marcus' dessert menu goes live, the night you meet natalie berzatto, and the night that truths are revealed.

a/n: is it hot in here or is it just me? who's ready for some smut? this will be the last chapter i post till sunday/monday, so we can all sit with this. hear me out: it's not that i think carmy is really good at sex. but there's so much tension between these two, i think reader is good at sex, and there's something to be said for being so turned on by the other person that it just hits different.

and here is that song -- the jazz standard turned acoustic cover.

read: part three | masterlist

Friday

“Just remember that we don’t have to reinvent the wheel here. You just have to deliver a really damn good dessert time after time,” you instruct, setting Marcus up, pre-dinner shift.

“I think we should focus on the burnt basque cheesecake in lieu of the classic. You already have a heavier lift on the bake for the chocolate cake. That way, whatever happens with the mixer, or the ovens… this version of cheesecake is pretty forgiving. And you don’t have to fuck around with a water bath just yet.”

“The tiramisu is perfect because it’s a no-bake option, and you can mix it up with different kinds of flavors – call it a special.”

“Like what we’re doing Sunday?” Marcus suggests, in reference to the strawberry, lemon, and mascarpone version you be doing at the end of the week.

“Exactly,” you reply.

“Hell yeah.”

“It all fits into the menu so nicely too: elevated classics.”

“A play on tradition.”

“Exactly."

“Ah, I see you, chef,” Marcus nods along, excited about tonight’s R&D night.

The game plan is to serve smaller portions of each dessert for the price of one, then get feedback by the end of the weekend.

“Hey, family’s up in a minute. You guys ready to roll tonight?” Carmy asks, stopping by you and Marcus’ little pastry corner.

“Yes, chef,” you both answer, in staggered timing.

“She got me workin’ on a strawberry compote. Here, try it, chef,” Marcus encourages, grabbing a clean spoon and scooping out a spoonful from the deli container it’s been stored in. Carmy takes it, putting the spoon in his mouth and he tries the compote.

“That’s gonna be really good with the tang and slightly bitter outside of the burnt cheesecake. Good work, chef,” he congratulates, inspiring a grin across Marcus face.

“I’m learning so much from you. Seriously. Thank you, chef,” he says, turning to you.

“Hey, you’re the one that made the compote,” you reply, redirecting the praise back to him. “Just sayin’.”

“Family’s up!” Sydney calls out to the whole kitchen.

You lock eyes with Carmy, and he nods towards the front of house as if to say, ‘follow me.’ You and Marcus file in through the limited space that leads from the kitchen to the front counter, then finally, into the dining area of the restaurant. Carmy had told you all about the hellish remodel of this place – that the two tops, booths, and bar remodel had taken for-fuckin-ever. That it looked like nothing more than a diner with a few arcade games before the reopen.

“Hey, thanks for jumping in so that Angel could cover me the other night,” Ebrahim says to you, as you find a seat next to Carmy, and across from Marcus.

“Oh, it’s no problem. You feelin’ better?” you ask back.

“Very much so. A little rest and a little maraq digaag and I’m good as new,” he answers.

“What’s good, Jeff? Surprised you’ve stuck around this long. Glad we haven’t scared you away yet,” Tina greets.

Carmy’s shocked, considering Tina rarely warms up to anyone.

You chuckle in response.

“It takes a lot more to scare me away, chef,” you reply, confident that you can keep up with everyone’s witty banter. Even though you’ve been welcomed in over the last few days, you know that they were a family before you came.

And will still be one after you.

Right. Because this is temporary. You’re only here for a week, you remind yourself.

“Yeah, thought she’d be long gone after workin’ the line the other night,” Richie chimes in. “Especially considering she’s way out of your league, cousin.”

“Yeah, yeah, fuck you,” Carmy shoots back, almost instantly.

“I’m just glad you’re here now. Man, it’s been three days and you’ve leveled my shit up already,” Marcus compliments.

“Besides, it’s nice to have some solidarity amongst the little boys club we work in every damn day,” Sydney points out, eliciting a scoff from Richie.

The two of you share a look, like a psychic high five or some shit. It begins to dawn on you that you could get used to this: this kitchen, these people….

“What? You got something against women supporting women, Richie?”

“Oh, so what? You’re the voice of feminism now, Syd?” Richie spits back. “Holy shit! Did you guys know that we were here in the presence of the new voice of-.”

You watch as Tina and Gary slump in their chairs, as if to say, ‘here they go again.’

“Don’t be such a prick, Richie. Oh wait.” Sydney challenges.

“You know what-?” Richie starts up, before being swiftly interrupted.

“Damn, Syd. This is fantastic,” you interject, your voice louder than normal, in reference to her family meal. “These tostadas are fuckin’ perfect and I’m gonna need the recipe.”

Richie continues to go on about god knows what, distracting himself, as Sydney mouths a, ‘thank you’ across the table towards you. You nod towards her as if to say,

I got you.

“Hey, I’m a little behind on plating. Sorry, chef,” Marcus apologizes, and you can tell he’s stressed. He gestures towards the plates that are ready to go out to the bar.

He hesitates before asking, “Oh and uh… these ones are ready to go out. Can you-?”

“‘Course, chef,” you answer, a mini-pep talk coming his way. “But uh… before you keep going, Marcus, take a breath. I know you struggle a little with pacing – you want everything to perfect – but, it’s gonna come with practice and repetition.”

You can see that he’s flustered – a little frustrated even.

“Expediting during dinner is a whole other animal, and it’s just night one. You got this,” you reassure.

You and Carmy had such different leadership styles. While you both had come up in the same kind of kitchens, you didn’t like to yell unless you had to. You were here to teach, and you can’t remember the last time someone screaming at you had ever helped you learn something.

You’re more than happy to support him by taking these plates out. You spent the first half of dinner service plating so that he could get some face time with customers – since you’d be asking for feedback. Then you’d switch halfway through service. You also thought it might be good practice for him to lead, considering they’d need to hire more help with the new menus.

You take a look at the ticket, one dessert tasting - two people - bar top, before taking the dessert plates out to the designated seats at the bar. There’s a gorgeous blonde woman sitting next to a guy in a sweater vest, as you make to approach the bar top.

“Hi, you guys,” you greet, a cheerful smile on your face. “Sorry to keep you waiting. We’re testing out a few new desserts for our dinner menu, so I’d love to hear what you think.”

“Oh this looks great,” the woman says, looking at both perfectly plated desserts.

“Here we have a burnt basque cheesecake with a strawberry compote, The Bear’s signature chocolate layer cake, and then a classic Italian tiramisu,” you explain, walking through each piece.

“Wow,” the man marvels, almost as if he’s surprised.

You share your name with them, and let them know that, if they have any feedback, that they can ask for you. As you turn to go, the woman calls after you, stopping you.

“Wait,” she says, her eyes lighting up. “You’re Carmy’s friend.”

“Yes.”

“Pete, it’s Carmy’s friend!” she exclaims, nudging the man next to her with her elbow to try to jog his memory. “You know! The one that’s staying in our airbnb.”

“Oh!” he says, as the light bulb goes on in his brain. “Yeah, we’ve heard all about you.”

“I’m sorry,” the woman apologizes. “I’m Natalie, his sister, but you can call me Sugar. This is my husband, Pete.”

“Oh my god! Natalie! Yes, I’ve heard so much about you too,” you reply, finally registering that this was the same woman in family photos that Carmy had shown you years ago. “It’s so nice to put a face to the name. And great to meet you too, Pete. Seriously, thanks for letting me stay at the place. I mean, you really didn’t have to.”

“Likewise,” she says back. She scoffs before rolling her eyes and continuing. “Leave it to Carmy to ask us for a favor and not even introduce you to us, that soft shitty bitch!”

“Babe,” Pete starts. “Maybe we shouldn’t be so hard on Carmy, you know, in front of his-.” He gestures towards you and you’re not sure what he thinks you are to Carmy.

Sugar brushes him off with a, ‘whatever,’ before you notice that they’re both in need of clean forks.

“You guys need clean forks. I’m gonna-,” you start.

“Oh no! I uh-, let me get it,” Pete interrupts, practically jumping out of his seat.

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” he agrees, leaving the two of you alone.

You lean against the bar top towards Sugar.

“Well, he couldn’t get out of here fast enough,” you say with a laugh, stating the obvious. She laughs with a nod towards her husband.

“Yeah he’s… special,” she replies. “I think he uh, I think he just wanted to give us some time to talk.”

You’re not sure what to say next, because you’re not sure what you and Carmy’s sister, one you’ve never met before, would have to talk about.

“So how’s the place? Do you have everything you need or-?” Sugar begins, in reference to the airbnb.

“Oh! Yeah, no it’s great. I’ve got everything I need. Again, thank you. You really didn’t have to do that.”

“No, we wanted to!”

“Thanks…” you trail off, suddenly feeling a little uncomfortable – nervous, maybe? Yep, definitely nervous, you realize, as you begin to ramble. “It’s a really great apartment. Beautifully styled.”

What the fuck are you even talking about, you think to yourself.

“Oh, I did that! Styled it, I mean,” Sugar’s quick to respond.

“Oh, wow!” you say. Were all the Berzattos creative? “Yeah, I just-, I really appreciate it. Made getting out here a little easier.”

“No, yeah, it’s-, it’s no problem,” Sugar continues. “Really… anything for a friend of Carmy’s.”

You’re not sure why it’s so awkward, and it feels like you’re somehow both dancing around something you’re not even sure you should be dancing around.

“I hope you don’t think I’m a total bitch for saying this but,” Sugar starts, cautiously. While she doesn’t want to make her brother look like a total loser in front of you, she’s also unsure of how else to say what she says next.

“Bear's never really had any friends… not a lot of them, at least. So I-. Thank you. I mean. For being his friend, I guess… is what I’m trying to say.”

Bear.

You figure it's a family nickname. You wonder why you’ve never heard it before, and yet, it’s no surprise that he kept it from you. He’d been so evasive about his family when you’d first met. For a bit, it just felt like a topic that was off limits.

You take a beat, processing what she’s just said. In some ways, you always knew that Carmy was a bit of a loner, but you could feel the weight of what she’s saying – how much it meant to her.

“I know he’s not always easy to love but. I don’t know. He acts like he doesn’t need people, and I know he does. I mean, people outside of this fucked up shit hole anyways,” she continues, gesturing to her surroundings.

You agree with a small laugh, “Yeah, he can be a real dick sometimes. That’s for sure.”

“Seriously. Thank you,” she says, genuinely.

“Of course,” you reply, making sure she knows that her words mean a lot to you. You take a more playful tone as you continue. “To be fair, we did meet in another fucked up spot. Not so much a shit hole though.”

“Yeah, and there’s that,” she sighs, lightheartedly.

“I’m just glad he has someone. He needs someone. Even when he doesn’t want to.”

The rest of dinner service is a blur, as your mind continues to incubate on what Sugar had said to you. You let your interaction with her sit there, but try your best to focus on supporting the rest of service.

You all work together to wrap up the evening – a chaotic dinner service with a lot of lessons learned. You and Carmy are the last to leave as you notice he’s wrapping up a few things in his office. With your jacket on, backpack slung over one shoulder, you stop by to say goodnight before heading out.

He’s sitting in the chair, furiously scribbling a few notes down on a few pages of graphing paper. Your eyes flicker over all of the silly doodles on the whiteboard behind him.

“Hey,” you say, causing him to look up from his notebook.

“Good service tonight,” he says back.

“Yeah,” you nod in agreement. “Desserts were a hit.”

“I heard,” he replies.

You wait for him to say more, only he doesn’t.

“So, I’m gonna get out of here. Marcus is gonna fly solo tomorrow morning, so I won’t be in till the dinner shift,” you start, shooting him a polite smile.

You take a few steps away from the office before he calls out to you.

“Hey!”

You stop, taking a few steps backwards so that you’re standing in the office doorway once again.

“You hungry?” he asks, tentatively.

There’s a look in his eyes that you can’t quite identify: a little nervousness, and something else you haven’t had a chance to name yet. It’s like he’s not ready to part ways with you yet. You smile back at him, hoping to quell whatever nerves he has about the question he just asked you.

“Always, Carm.”

You’re tired and your feet ache from a particularly busy service, but you’re not ready to part ways with him either.

“Watcha thinkin?” you ask curiously, sliding your other arm through the loose strap of your backpack.

“Can I cook you something?” he proposes, hopefully.

You laugh.

“Is that even a real question?”

You wait for him as he wraps up his notes and gather his things. Carmy slips on his jacket and ballcap, ready to head home with you. On the way, he lights up a cigarette, offering one to you, but you tell him that you’re trying to quit – or at least trying to cut back. It’s not a long walk back to his place, and you anticipate it being something along the same lines as what he had in New York: facebook marketplace couch, minimal food in the fridge, a TV and a bed.

Nothing else – just a place to sleep, before he spends most of his day at the restaurant.

When you arrive, you’re not surprised to see that your assumptions were correct. Carmy flips on a few lights as you follow behind him. You drop your book bag onto his couch, slipping your shoes off and removing your jacket, as Carmy bee lines for the kitchen. You hear the faucet turn on as you tentatively explore his small apartment, before meeting him in the small kitchen area.

He takes his time, washing his hands, before drying them on a dish towel and throwing it over his shoulder.

“So what are we makin’, chef?” you inquire.

“We aren’t making anything. You’re gonna sit right over here,” he begins, gesturing towards the area across from his gas stovetop. “Oh shit. Hold on. Let me grab you a-.”

“I’m good here, chef,” you interrupt, making a sound as you hop onto the kitchen counter. You immediately reach for the bag of chips he’s thrown onto it. It’s not even closed properly with a clip or anything so expect them to be stale as you pop one of the chips into your mouth.

“Sour cream and onion? Change up from your regular doritos, huh?”

A small smile spreads across his face as he moves around his kitchen, locating a quarter sheet pan. He opens his practically desolate fridge, pulling out a fresh brick of pecorino romano, guanciale, and a few eggs he throws right into the pint-sized deli container that lays on the sheet pan. The rest follow: an unopened pound of dried spaghetti and black pepper, before he gently places the sheet pan on the counter, beginning to preheat two pans on the stovetop.

“Are you-?”

“Uh huh.”

You smile to yourself. He’s making one of your favorites: carbonara.

The first time he’d made it for you, you had just started spending some of your days off together – had just agreed to be a part of each others' quarantine pods. You knew he had Italian-American heritage but it was blatantly obvious when you took your first bite.

“Holy fuck,” you had practically moaned at your first bite. “This-, please don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m pretty sure your talents are being wasted on fine dining, my friend. This is… this is fucking unreal, dude.”

You had tried to convince him that this is the food you both should be cooking, but he vehemently denied the idea, insisting the fine dining was the highest on the food chain and the only way he could make a name for himself.

He’d been drinking the kool-aid. You both had.

You sit quietly, as Carmy works. You watch as he cuts perfect lardons, then renders the fat from the cured pork bits. The smell of the guanciale begins to fill the apartment, and Carmy opens a window, just to let the smoke dissipate.

“You can uh, put some music on if you want,” Carmy says, motioning towards the small bluetooth speaker he has on the coffee table. You agree to, hopping off of the kitchen counter and making your way towards his living area to set up the speaker.

You flip through your phone, looking for a good playlist to put on, settling on one of your dinner party playlists. The speaker booms with the sounds of an old jazz standard, redone as an acoustic cover, and you turn the volume up a little as the water for the spaghetti comes to a boil.

You spend time looking through Carmy’s bookshelf. It’s filled with thick-spined cookbooks from James Beard winning best restaurants and chefs. You drag your fingertips over the spine of a few classics, but settle on a fairly new book, written by someone at the New York Times.

“Do you have any other books besides cookbooks?” you call out to him.

He lets out a dry laugh and you take it as a no.

You make your way back to your spot on the counter, sliding the open chip bag over, before hopping back up to your seat. You flip through the cookbook as Carmy stays busy with the pasta.

It’s quiet moments like these that you’ve missed so much. Some days the two of you could talk for hours about sous vide vs reverse searing, and the right way to make a fucking bearnaisse sauce. Other days, Carmy wasn’t much for conversation, and you loved those ones equally. Sometimes, you just wanted company, so he’d come over and work on a recipe and you’d read while he worked in your kitchen.

You could just be together, and it was nice to feel that again.

No awkward tension of things left unsaid.

But there was a different kind of tension that seemed to linger between the two of you and you wondered if it had always been there. Had you just never noticed? Between the little comments from Richie about being out of his league, and Pete’s open-ended ‘not in front of his’ you wondered if everyone knew something you didn’t.

“Which one’d you go with?” he asks, continuing his graceful dance around the kitchen.

“Korean American. Eric Kim. I hadn’t had a chance to pick up a copy for myself yet, actually,” you answer, flipping through the first few pages.

Your met with quiet as you continue your story.

“You know we’re kind of friends. We went out for drinks a few times. Before I quit my job. Went dancing in the east village and stayed out till two in the morning bar hopping and gossiping about our mutual celebrity crush, Timothee Chalamet,” you add, your attention still fixed on the vibrant, colorful food photographs.

“Timothee Chalamet, huh?” Carmy asks, amused.

Your attention isn’t on Carmy, or what he’s doing, save for the sounds of him moving around the kitchen. That is, until you look up to find him unceremoniously close to you, peering over onto the page you seem so fascinated with.

“Jesus Christ, Car!” you gasp, surprised by his close proximity. Your heart was beating faster as he took a step back. “You scared the shit out of me!”

“Sorry,” he mumbles, his head hanging as he takes a few steps back. “Didn’t mean to.”

“No, it’s okay!” you assure. But it’s too late, so you change the subject, deciding to finish your story. “Anyways uh… I had to hang out with someone after you left New York. Make some new friends.”

“We both know you’ve never struggled with that,” Carmy points out, eliciting a playful eye roll from you.

He returns with the most aesthetically pleasing twirl of spaghetti carbonara. It’s so perfect you almost can’t fathom eating it. He hands it to you, then returns to his kitchen counter, plating a second bowl for himself.

After finishing the second twirl, he carelessly tosses his carving fork into the sink, opening another drawer to grab two forks for eating.

“Come on. You don’t want it to get cold,” he encourages, handing you one of the forks.

He waits patiently for you to try it first, so you dig your fork in, creating a spaghetti twirl that hugs the fork, before raising it up to your lips. You open your mouth, taking a bite, before closing your eyes in absolute bliss.

“I can’t fucking stand you.”

He smiles, and it’s the biggest smile you’ve seen on his face this whole week.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I mean. Fuck you. Like… absolutely fuck you.”

He laughs, finally picking up his own fork and digging into the second bowl he’s plate for himself.

Holy fuck, is it out of this world.

“Like, do you think they’re such a thing as a talent aggression? Like a cute aggression, only I want to squeeze your head off because you’re so damn talented-kind of aggression?” you pitch your idea to him, playfully.

He laughs, a blush spreading across his cheeks, “Uh… no. I don’t think so.”

Carmy rests his back against the counter, as you eat together, side by side. You eat quietly, exchange looks and quiet giggles as the two of you finish your pasta, slurping up the cheesy, egg-yolk coated noodles. When you finish your bowl, you put it down on the counter next to you, throwing your head back with a sigh.

“Thank you,” you say, fully satisfied as you feel the dopamine rush of eating carbs.

“That good, huh?” he asks, a cocky smirk on his face.

“So good,” you exhale happily, as you rest your head on his shoulder. “And you know it, you asshole.”

He chuckles, turning his head towards you just as you lift your head off of his shoulder, your faces mere inches away from each other. You watch as his face turns a few shades darker, the blush across his cheeks running through his whole face.

Are you two fucking idiots to pretend that you were just friends?

Yeah. Yes, you are.

“Sorry, I’m, I didn’t mean to um,” he stutters, beginning to pull away from you.

“Wait,” you call out, reaching out to stop him. You grab his arm.

And there it is again… the tension. That thing that, even when you had talked it out, has remained between you two. He stops moving, his eyes fixated on your hand – the one that’s reached for him. The one that feels hot against his skin.

“Carm, I-. Um, I’ve really missed…” you stammer through, trying not to sound as breathless as you feel.

I’ve really missed you.

“... your carbonara.” He looks up at you with those beautifully sad, cerulean blue eyes, and if you weren’t breathless before, you certainly are now.

“You should make this more often,” is all you manage to get out, and you know you sound helpless.

He doesn’t know what to say back. That he can hear the ache in your voice – a yearning for him that he never imagined anyone could ever have for him. That it’d be world war three, trying to get a carbonara on the dinner menu. That screaming would ensue over a goddamn emulsion. That there’d be no way to pull this off authentically, and that he’d have to use heavy cream, and no fucking way would he compromise on that.

On your favorite fucking dish.

That he only has these ingredients on hand because he went out and bought them in preparation for your visit.

That he only got them for you.

Because he maybe only wants to make carbonara for you, and only you, for forever and ever.

That he’s missed you too, and that wanting you is one of the scariest things he’s ever felt.

His eyes flicker from your hand, the one still holding onto him, and then back to your face. He’s not sure what possesses him to do it, but he can hear his brother’s voice in his head, let it rip, pushing him to lean in – even closer towards you. You wrap your fingers around his arm, encouraging him closer to you – if it’s even possible. Your foreheads meet and it’s as if all the oxygen has been sucked out of the room. It’s like your vision narrows and the dimly lit apartment has faded away behind you.

It’s just you and him.

You feel dizzy – in the most delicious way possible.

You’re not sure who moves in first, but the tip of his nose is ever so gently bumping against yours. You brush the side of your nose against his, neither of you daring to take a breath.

“Carm?”

He doesn’t answer, so you gently begin to leave a kiss against the corner of his mouth.

“This okay?”

Then the side of his top lip.

“Mhm,” he nods, eager to continue where this is going.

Then you pull back, pulling him towards you so that, as you remain perched on top of his kitchen countertop, he fits perfectly between your knees. You lean in to kiss him, and this time, it’s not as hesitant… not as cautious as you’ve both been.

No, these kisses are different, each one opening up the door to more and more – more want, more need, more lust – and as it blooms, as it blossoms, you feel Carmy’s hand move gingerly to cradle your face as you fall down the rabbit hole. Your fingers tangle into his blonde curls allowing your sheer want for him to consume you. It’s lips, and tangled tongues, and tentative, soft moans as you continue to pull each other closer and closer.

And you slowly begin to understand: the lingering tension, the avoidance of labeling you from his brother-in-law, why he’s been terrified to say a damn thing to you this entire week.

As much as you tried, and as much as he’s tried, neither of you had put that night behind you.

Sure, it was shitty timing, and sure he wasn’t in the right headspace then. But now?

Now, could be different, if you’d let it.

Carmy pulls away from you, reluctantly, his face hot before asking, “You uh, you wanna take this somewhere else?”

His tone is hopeful, as if he’s the teenage dirtbag asking the prom queen out – like if you heard him, and you laughed in his face, he simply wouldn’t survive it.

But your response is quite the opposite, and he feels silly for worrying, as you manage a breathy ‘yes’ going back in for one more kiss. He gives you some space to hop off the counter and you grab his hand, leading him towards his bedroom. It’s not a huge place, so you put two and two together about where that is. Carmy leaves the lights off in his bedroom, the only glimmer of light either of you can see comes from the living room lamps, and the kitchen overhead.

With his hand in yours, you pull him towards you again, and he’s more than happy to let you lead. You begin to kiss him, taking note of how perfectly his top lip feels nestled in between yours. He follows you down to his bed, hesitant to put his full body weight on top of you. You giggle into the kiss, pulling him down to you.

“I’m not a porcelain doll, Carm,” you tease, gently.

You feel his lips twist into a smile against yours, as he begins to leave sloppier, wetter kisses down your neck. You allow him to explore as his hesitation lessens, his hands beginning to bunch up the hemline of your shirt. Higher and higher. And before you know it, you’re taking it off, impatiently throwing it somewhere you’ll barely remember in the light of day. You pull Carmy back down for another kiss, this time with a little more intensity, as he covers his body with yours, his hands and mouth exploring every inch of newly revealed skin that he possibly can.

You’re not sure when his shirt joined yours on the floor but before it registers, you’re running your fingers across the muscles of his back, exploring each peak and valley. You hiss in pure pleasure as he pulls down one of the cups of your bra, his tongue running across one of your nipples. You can feel him smile against your skin, a well-won reaction from the pleasure he’s giving you. His other hand reaches up to give equal attention to your other breast, and moments later, you’re both impatiently pulling your bra off.

“Wanna try something,” Carmy murmurs, his eyes meeting yours.

You can feel the wet heat pooling between your legs as you breathe out, “Okay.”

The anticipation is building in your body and you feel like your head might explode. Carmy busies his mouth once again, leaving kisses down your torso as his hands begin to fiddle with the button on your jeans. You giggle, more than willing to help him out as he gets them undone, lifting your hips so that he can slide them off.

He’s hesitant, and you’re trying your damnedest to be patient as he takes his sweet time to marvel at your almost-naked body.

“So fucking perfect,” Carmy whispers, in between leaving wet, open mouthed kisses across your hip bones. You can hardly breathe, panting out loud as he continues his exploration. You make space for him between your legs as he slips his hands into your panties, dragging a finger up and down your dripping sex.

He checks in with you, gauging your reaction, and you nod as he continues what he’s doing.

“This all for me?” he asks. He means for it to sound confident, but as the words leave him, he sounds more surprised than anything.

Before you can answer, he’s pushing your legs wider, his tongue gently running across your clit, causing you to cry out to the gods. He’s tentative at first, but it doesn’t take long for him to gather up the confidence to keep going, with the noises you’re making. At first it’s all tongue, licking, circling and flattening up against you, but you’re losing your mind as he adds his fingers back into the mix. His fingers are buried deep inside of you while his lips and tongue are bringing you far past your edge.

It’s as if the only words you can remember are his name, and ‘fuck.’

You feel his lips curl into a smile against you as he murmurs, “Just wanna make you feel good.”

You can feel it – your climax – building up, and Carmy groans, rutting his hips into the bed as he can no longer ignore how hard he is.

“Carmy, yes. Don’t stop, please. I’m-,” you beg, your voice shaking.

And he has no intention of stopping till he gets what he wants – till he makes you cum. He works you through your orgasm, groaning against you as you cum on his tongue and around his fingers. You swear for a moment that you can’t hear a single thing as stars fill your vision. As you come to, it starts with only the sounds of the heavy pants that escape your mouth. Carmy sits up, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

“Holy fuck,” you say, breathless.

Carmy lays over you once again, kissing you, and you can taste yourself on his lips.

Your hands fumble with the button on his jeans and you order, no patience left in a single cell of your body, “Off. These need to come off.”

He chuckles, hurrying through the removal of his jeans. You’re so eager to feel the weight of his body on top of yours again that you pull him back down to you before he’s even able to properly take them off.

He’s kissing you again as you reach down, grabbing his hard length through his underwear. He’s thicker than you remember. You slip your hand into the waistband of his briefs, causing him to grunt. He hisses your name as you wrap your soft hand around his dick, bucking his hips into your hand.

“Do you have a condom?” you ask, desperately. “I wanna feel you, Carm.”

“Mhm.”

He doesn’t keep condoms around. It’s not like this happens very often for him. But Richie had thrown a pack of condoms at his head the minute he found out that the friend that was coming to visit was a girl. Richie had teased him with some stupid quip like ‘don’t forget to wrap it up, cousin. No one wants a mini-eleven madison park dickhead running around here.’

He hadn’t expected this to happen. But it’s not like he’d thrown the condoms away either – tucking them into the single drawer of his nightstand.

You wait as he reaches over and pulls out a condom from his nightstand. You want to ask him about why he has them, but as long as you get to feel him, you’re not sure you care.

You’ve been here before with him, but this is different. He sits up on his knees and you follow him, pulling his briefs down properly and giving him time to roll on the condom. He follows you back down onto the bed as you wrap a leg around his waist so that he can fit perfectly between yours.

He waits a beat, and then you feel his thick tip pushing against you, causing your breath to catch in your throat. He rubs the head up and down your slick core, before slowly beginning to push into you.

You both gasp at the feel of each other.

“Fuck. You’re so fuckin’ tight,” he moans, dropping his head into the crevice of your neck. He hopes you can’t tell how utterly helpless he feels.

You hiss at the way he’s stretching you open, the pads of your fingertips digging into his arms. You’re holding onto his arms for dear life as he fills you all the way to the hilt. You let out another moan as you as he stays there for a moment.

“This okay?”

You nod, pulling him down to kiss you again. You start moving your hips against his as Carmy gives you shallow thrusts.

“Hold on,” he breathes out, holding your hips down for a moment. “Just-, just give me a second.”

And you do, allowing him to collect himself, before he’s giving you shallow, gentle thrusts.

But you’re in desperate need for more.

“Carmy?”

“Yeah?”

“Fucking move.”

Finally, finally, he pulls almost all the way out, before driving himself back into you, earning a cry from you as the pleasure is just too much.

“Oh fuck!”

You want more. You want everything and all of him and so much more. And he gives it to you, continuing to check in that what he’s doing is okay. Before you know it, you’re begging him to go faster, harder, convincing him that you’re not fucking breakable and that you want more, grasping at the sheets and his biceps, and his curls – anything you can hang on to as he’s bringing you over your edge again for the second time tonight.

You’re crying out his name as you cum, and Carmy thinks it may be the sweetest, best thing he’s ever heard in his life. He fucks you through your climax, beginning to slow down the pace of this thrusts. He pauses, kisses you long and hard, passionately pausing just to be in this moment with you.

“Carm?” you manage to get out. You wonder if he can hear how much you want him just by the sound of your voice.

“Hm?”

“I wanna ride you,” you say, and you can feel that your words have gone straight to his dick as he twitches inside of you.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The two of you clumsily change positions – him on his back staring up at you in awe, like how the hell does that perfect, beautiful, creature want to be here with me now? You reach down, guiding him back inside of you and you’re both gasping at the contact. You begin grinding your hips against him, watching his eyes roll back as you make your movement a little bigger.

“Jesus Christ,” he sighs out, the pleasure of it all taking over his brain.

You know he won’t last much longer as you begin to ride him, rocking your hips back and forth. Carmy hands are on your hips, then running up and down your torso, grabbing your tits, and then they’re pulling you down to him for another passionate makeout as you continue your movements. You can feel his thrusts becoming more erratic as he starts thrusting up into you. You keep riding him, reaching for his hands and placing them along your hips.

“Show me how you want it,” you whisper in between kisses.

“I think this is nice,” he manages to say.

“Show me how you want it, Carmen,” you demand, emphasizing your need for him with use of his full name. “Let me make you cum.”

You squeeze his hands against your ass, egging him on, and he’s not sure what he’s done to deserve this. He holds onto your hips, before thrusting up into you, setting a bruising pace as your moans become louder and louder. You scream out his name, as he brings you closer and closer to your high, chasing his with him.

He grunts, his thrusts becoming sloppier, messier, more desperate and you let him use your body in the most delicious ways.

“Are you gonna cum?”

Instead of answering, he’s driving into you like a fucking mad man, and you’re riding him through his high till you both collapse.

Carmy lets out a strangled moan as he cums, so you begin to slow your movements. You’re breathless, hunched over him, your foreheads touching as you exchange a laugh.

It's a kind of 'I can't believe we just did that' kind of laugh.

“Holy shit,” he says, shaking his head.

“Yeah,” you agree, a stupid, blissed out smile on both of your faces.

“That was-.”

“Yeah.”

You get off of him, allowing him to get up and dispose of the condom. He’s not gone long before he returns to you, wrapping the both of you up in his sheets and into his arms. It feels unlike anything you’ve ever had.

It feels… magnificent.

“Stay with me tonight?” he asks, leaving a few soft kisses along your shoulder.

“After that?” you giggle, as his lips against your neck begin to tickle. “You’re not getting rid of me, Berzatto. Not a fucking chance.”

read: part five

taglist: @lazypeachsoul @bookwormvoyageuse @allthefandomstogether @gaysludge @sobshoney

#carmy berzatto smut #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto #carmy x oc #the bear hulu #the bear fx #jeremy allen white #carmen 'carmy' berzatto #the bear marcus #sydney adamu #the bear tina #richie jerimovich #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto smut

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aestheticaltcow · 1 month

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The Social Media Manager: The Series (Part 2)

Another installment of the social media manager series

Another shout out to @thebearsoc for the inspiration!

The Moodboard/OG blurb

Part 1 Introductions and Donuts

Meetings, Meetings, Meetings

“Wait, wait, wait-” Richie started rubbing a hand against the back of his head, “You’re tellin’ me, Marcus’s party girl 20-somethin’ year old friend is getting access to our social media? That’s bull, and you know it, Natalie.”

Natalie rolled her eyes and glanced in Marcus’s direction, “Marcus, Rusty has done this before, right?” he nodded before explaining, “Nat, Richie, I’m tellin’ ya’, Rusty is really good at this shit. Just give her a shot.”

Carmy entered the sitting area of The Bear and sat next to Natalie without saying anything, “I don’t think we can afford this, Marcus. I’m sure Rusty is a wonderful social media manager, but the budgets tight.” Natalie sighed, staring at her computer screen.

“That's the thing- you guys have a hookup.” Marcus grinned, hoping that this would be enough of a selling point. “Rusty owes me one. She’d probably do the setup for free, and I can do all the posting. She helped me redo my account when I came back from Cophegan- I went from like 100 followers to like 1,000 in a month.”

Carmy looked around the group before nodding in Marcus’s direction, “Call her.”

Carmy stood up and walked out of the dining area through the kitchen and into the office, where his phone had been plugged in to charge. He quickly opened his phone, went to the seldomly used Instagram app, typed in your handle, and smiled as your account came up. He’d been Instagram stalking you since he’d heard Marcus giving Syd your handle. She’d laughed about it being a reference to a K-pop group he’d never heard of; granted, he’d never really listened to any of those groups. So far, he’d learned that you have an eclectic taste in music, an affinity for putting googly eyes on potted plants, a love for fancy coffees with overpriced pastries, and had, in fact, known Marcus since high school. He liked your style. There was something free about it; he admired your creativity. Carmy took notes about you through the account. Your highlight reels being indicative of your personality, the ‘Rusty cooking??’ highlight reel was particularly traumatizing. He wondered how you’d gotten into your 20s without knowing how to actually chop an onion, but he could show you how to do it properly; just the idea of that made his heart flutter. Carmy was incredibly attracted to you, but when you’d posted a boomerang of you kissing a guy’s cheek and tagged the guy’s account with a heart emoji, he was worried this would be another unrequited crush.

When you walked into The Bear the next day in a pair of trousers with your hair up and a pair of glasses perched on your nose, Carmy felt like his heart was going to explode. He beelined for the bathroom to make sure he didn’t have anything in his teeth and washed his hands in an attempt to get the smell of cigarettes off his hands before going to talk to you.

“So that’s what I would recommend doing for TikTok. The algorithm is tricky, but once you get on its good side, it can be really great publicity.” Carmy swallowed as he listened to you explain your strategy to Natalie and Richie. Natalie seemed impressed, while Richie seemed wary. “This is all really great Rusty. Thanks for getting back to me so quickly.” Natalie smiled as she shuffled a pile of documents into a yellow folder. You shrugged and responded with a playful laugh before explaining that work had been slow at the moment, so you had some extra free time to take a peak at the analytics you could see without access to the account details.

After Richie and Natalie said their goodbyes, Richie was still seemingly cold toward hiring a social media manager and you in general. The two of them discussed it as they walked toward the kitchen. Carmy waited until they had walked through the kitchen door before approaching you. If he struck out with you he’d prefer not to do it within earshot of his sister and Richie; he’d never live it down. “Hey.” Carmy greeted awkwardly, rocking on his heels.

You smiled back, “Hey you. Long time no see.” Carmy blushed at your flirtatious tone. “How you doin’ Carmy? Spendin’ a lot of time on Instagram, huh?”

Carmy needed some clarification on the comment. You noticed and giggled before explaining, “You liked a picture on my account from like two years ago.” Carmy tightly grinned out of embarrassment. He hesitantly nodded, “Uh yeah—Marcus recommended you do our social media stuff… I just wanted to check out what you post.”

He hoped he saved himself, but self-doubt was taking over. He watched as you began twirling a strand of hair on your index finger. “It’s okay, Carmy. I think you’re cute, and I’m going out on Friday with a couple of friends… if you happen to show up at this bar across town called The White Rabbit, I might let you buy me a drink.”

Carmy was speechless. He was by no means an experienced dater, and within that limited experience, he’d never had a girl come onto him like this. You noticed his awkwardness and found it endearing. “No pressure. You can also just call me sometime.”

You pulled a Sharpie out of your bag and grabbed Carmy’s wrist to write your number across his forearm, “Bye, Carmy.” you winked before walking past him, making sure he’d get a whiff of your perfume.

“B-bye Rus-sty.” Carmy managed to stutter out as he watched you walk out of the front entrance. He pushed the heel of his hand against his jaw. You were different, and it scared him, but also found it enchanting.

#the bear #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto imagine #carmy the bear #carmen berzatto one shot #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto fluff #the bear fx #the bear hulu #the bear fic #marcus the bear #natalie the bear #richie jerimovich #sydney the bear

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chefkids · 7 months

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Spoon Theory

This is arguably the single most important The Bear meta post I will ever make so please bear with me.

The first spoon we see in the entire series is when Carmy takes Sydney's spoon to try her stew. This is right after he cut his hand from not being able to find his sharp knife, and before he has to meet with Natalie to get Mikey's jacket, which was stressing him out. She "gave him a spoon" and a bit of positivity when he needed to calm down and get some energy by knowing at the very least Sydney can cook well.

Needing a spoon is needing help. When he hands over the brigade to Sydney he is waving around spoons the entire episode, when she really needed his help and his "spoons". Later on Sydney is not afraid to just ask him for his help.

With the risotto she gave him a "spoon" that would help the restaurant, that brought in a good review and customers, but he didn't have enough of his own "spoons" to deal with it as he was stressing out over the window that just got shot through and the IRS needing the missing tax returns. Right before trying the risotto Carmy had told Richie he is afraid of something good happening. He is afraid of Sydney and him doing well, because the better it gets the more it will hurt him when something goes wrong. That is why he keeps self sabotaging the restaurant and doubting Sydney.

After Sydney quit, she is still using her spoons for mental energy to make sure Marcus is okay and to try and figure out her next steps career wise. Carmy grabbed a spoon to open the tomato can lid, which he really didn't need because he could've just used the can opener, and then found the money. When he finds the money they both know they would be fine on their own, she could find another job, he could fix up The Beef. But they still need each others emotional spoons to achieve their passions, so he reaches out and she comes back.

In Season 2 she did need his "spoons" to help create the menu and decide on the details for the restaurant, but he barely gave her any because he was still so caught up in his past trauma and the literal and metaphorical forks in his life.

Fixing the table really didn't physically need more than one "spoon"/person. But he needed her there to work through his mental block. With the inspiration food tour, she did it on her own and she didn't physically need him for it, she needed his emotional spoons.

When they are not communicating well with each other and Carmy is trying to reach back and be involved again, he gets as close as he can to her spoon without actually using it.

And now the dark side of spoons.

The originator of spoon theory has lupus and first came up with this theory at a restaurant to explain what it was like living with the condition to a friend. They could've easily said Sydney's mom died of cancer or an accident or anything else. But this is all so intentional, out of all the things it is Lupus. I don't want Sydney to be sick as much as the next person, but Lupus is a chronic autoimmune disease that has higher likelihood of developing when you have a family member with it, and can be triggered by environmental factors such as stress. It is an invisible illness and Christine's own handle is butyoudontlooksick, which could really explain Sydney and what she has going on behind her walls that people can't see. She has been a rock to so many people and over exerting herself, but there might come a time soon when Sydney will genuinely need other peoples "spoons", especially Carmy's, because she's all out.

Now that Carmy said he is choosing to give Syd his focus aka his "spoons", will he actually be able to follow through?

Read The Fork Theory next

Read The Knife Theory

#spoon theory #the bear meta #the bear #sydcarmy #sydney adamu #carmen berzatto #chefs kiss #syd x carmy #platonic and messy #charged and sexy #carmy x sydney #christopher storer #joanna calo

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nayziiz · 2 months

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No Way | LN4

Summary: Lando Norris, an F1 driver for McLaren Racing, faces persistent attention on his single status. In an attempt to appease fans and quell rumours, his management suggests a fake relationship with a popular Portuguese model. However, Lando's PR manager, Natalie, disagrees, believing fans would see through the ploy. As an alternative, Lando's management notices the genuine bond between him and Natalie and proposes they feign a relationship for authenticity. Initially hesitant, they agree, given their existing friendship and professional connection. The fake relationship takes an unexpected turn as Lando and Natalie grapple with burgeoning real feelings, attempting unsuccessfully to conceal their growing emotions.

Pairing: Lando Norris x Original Character (Natalie)

Warnings: Mentions of physical and emotional abuse

Masterlist

CHAPTER 2

“Oh, sweetie, it’s so good to see you!” Lando’s mom, Cisca, squeals as she envelopes Natalie into a tight hug. The genuine warmth in Cisca's embrace reflects the affection she holds for Natalie.

“Yeah, we’ve really missed having you around.” Flo, Lando’s sister, adds, joining in the familial welcome. Natalie reciprocates the affection by folding her arms around Lando’s younger sisters, Flo and Cisca. The bond between them feels like a continuation of the family connection they've built over time.

“I think she’ll be around more often now.” Lando informs his family, a hint of assurance in his voice. Cisca shoots Lando a questioning look, curiosity twinkling in her eyes.

“I will be, I promise. I think you still owe me horse riding lessons.” Natalie concedes with a playful smile as she turns to Flo, acknowledging the young equestrian champion in the making.

The hotel suite is filled with joy and laughter as the Norris family re-welcome Natalie into its folds. The atmosphere is warm and familial, creating a scene that, to an outsider, might seem like a heartwarming reunion with in-laws rather than colleagues.

The night unfolds with shared moments of connection, laughter echoing through the room as they engage in spirited rounds of board games. The camaraderie extends beyond the professional realm, transcending the roles of F1 driver and PR manager. The familial bond they've built over time becomes more apparent with every smile and shared joke.

As dinner is enjoyed together, the sense of togetherness deepens. The suite becomes a haven of shared stories, genuine laughter, and a comforting sense of belonging. The familial embrace is not limited to blood ties, and Natalie finds herself enveloped in the warmth of the Norris family's acceptance.

As the night progresses, the exhaustion from a day filled with laughter and connection takes its toll. Natalie, finding a moment of comfort on the couch, succumbs to sleep. Lando, ever considerate, chooses the floor beside her with her hand resting gently on his chest, a silent testament to the unspoken bond that has grown between them. The hotel suite, once a space for family, fun and joy, now cradles the gentle stillness of a shared moment as they rest side by side.

- THE NEXT DAY -

“Job well done today, Lando. What are your goals for the race tomorrow?” The interviewer asks Lando post-Qualifying.

“The usual, really. We’re hoping for a good result tomorrow, possibly a win if we’re able to capitalise on the pace we showed today.” Lando responds, still slightly breathless due to the run from the garage to the media pen.

“Let’s get some fan questions.” The interviewer encourages and soon hands are flying up as the fans burn to ask Lando their questions.

“Who is here supporting you this weekend?” A young fan manages to squeal into the microphone the interviewer hands him.

“I have my family here this weekend, so I'm quite excited to perform well with them watching.” Lando sweetly responds to the young fan.

“There are rumours online that you have a girl here this weekend. Will she be watching from the garage?” A teenage girl asks Lando excitedly.

“Uh, no.” Lando hesitates before he regains his composure. “There’s no girl here this weekend.”

Lando finds himself increasingly anxious when faced with questions about his love life. The life of an F1 driver already comes with immense pressure, but the added scrutiny on his romantic relationships intensifies the stress. The expectation to have a glamorous partner by his side for public appeasement is an unspoken demand, and this season, the intensity of inquiries about his personal life reaches unprecedented levels.

Interview after interview, it seems there's hardly a moment without a probing question about his romantic entanglements. Lando, inherently private about his personal life, detests these inquiries and the unwanted intrusion into his private affairs. The constant spotlight on his love life becomes a source of discomfort and distraction from his racing focus.

Recognising Lando's unease, Natalie, his astute PR manager, has raised the concern with the management team. Together, they strategize to alleviate the pressure on Lando during interviews. The proposal includes reaching out to media outlets to request a ban on questions related to his romantic life. The goal is to create a boundary that allows Lando to maintain his privacy and redirect the focus back to his achievements on the track.

- THE NEXT DAY -

“Thank you for stopping by. I just wanted to briefly discuss a proposal with you.” Charlotte, head of communications and PR for McLaren, states as Lando joins her, Natalie, and Zak in the small conference room above hospitality.

“Sure, what’s up?” Lando asks, interested to hear what Charlotte had to say.

“As you know, the media has been trying very hard to draw blood from a stone when it comes to your love life. So, we think we may have a solution to that.” Zak begins.

“We are hoping you would agree to a fake relationship with an up and coming Portuguese model, Raquel Perrera. You’ll have the safety net of having a girl by your side on race weekends, shutting the media down, and she has the benefits that come with dating a F1 driver.” Charlotte continues.

“So, a fake relationship?” Lando clarifies.

“Correct.” Zak confirms.

Lando studies the faces of the people seated in front of him, their expressions revealing a mixture of anticipation and curiosity. His gaze eventually turns to Natalie, his trusted PR manager. The proposal catches him off guard, and while he's not entirely against the idea, he senses the weight of the decision.

Natalie, on the other hand, maintains a neutral face, concealing her emotions behind a carefully crafted expression. Internally, she is appalled by the idea of orchestrating a fake relationship for Lando. The concept contradicts her principles of transparency and authenticity, elements she values in managing Lando's public image.

The silent exchange between Lando and Natalie reflects their unspoken understanding. Lando contemplates the potential benefits of the proposal, primarily in alleviating the constant scrutiny on his personal life. Natalie, however, grapples with the ethical implications and the potential impact on Lando's credibility.

“Natalie, what do you think?” Charlotte inquires.

“No way.” Natalies quickly responds leaning onto the table in front of her. “That would be too obvious. They’ve never been seen together, nor have they interacted in any way, shape, or form. It would take ages to soft launch the relationship and he would just be peppered with the same questions every week. I don’t think it would work. The fans will see right through it and could cause more scandal than anything else.”

Natalie's immediate and firm rejection of the proposal reveals her astuteness in understanding the intricacies of managing Lando's public image. Her objections extend beyond personal discomfort; she sees the potential pitfalls in attempting to orchestrate a fake relationship with Raquel Perrera. Her analysis highlights the importance of authenticity in navigating the delicate balance of fame and public perception.

Charlotte sits back, realising they may have jumped too quickly with their proposal. Zak looks defeated, desperate to find a solution that could make Lando’s life slightly easier.

“Lando? What are your thoughts?” Zak asks him.

“Honestly, I’m not against it, but I have to agree with Nattie on this. It would be so far-fetched when I know nothing about her.” Lando responds.

Lando's honesty echoes Natalie's concerns about the lack of authenticity in the proposed plan. His reservations stem from a desire to maintain a genuine connection with his public image. The room remains enveloped in a contemplative atmosphere, grappling with the realisation that the initial proposal might not be the solution they had hoped for.

As Lando explains his thoughts, Charlotte’s expression softens as she watches Lando glance at Natalie every so often as he speaks.

“What about Natalie?” Charlotte pips.

“I’m sorry?” Natalie quickly questions her boss.

“You two get on well. You’re together pretty much all the time. Wouldn’t that be the perfect cover?” Charlotte explains. “You know each other well enough and are comfortable around each other.”

Silence hits the room as Natalie and Lando gaze at each other, each waiting for the other to answer. The unexpected suggestion hangs in the air, creating a palpable tension. The proposal challenges the boundaries of their professional relationship and introduces a dynamic that neither of them anticipated. The weight of the decision rests on the unspoken understanding between Natalie and Lando, leaving the room in suspense as they grapple with the implications of Charlotte's proposition.

“With all due respect, I don’t think that will work either.” Natalie states. “A relationship, fake or not, between the two of us would be a direct breach of our Code of Conduct.”

“We can make an exception. We can draw up paperwork or something to make it seem legitimate.” Zak adds.

Natalie sits back, folding her arms over her chest, not sure what to say. The room lingers in a moment of tension as the suggestion challenges the boundaries of professionalism. Lando's eyes remain fixed on Natalie, studying her, perhaps trying to gauge her thoughts and emotions in the midst of this unexpected proposal.

“I have to agree. It makes sense, sure. But, that brings a whole new list of problems. Fans would be coming after her like crazy and we’d be accused of being unprofessional.” Lando explains.

“Of course, I’m sorry. We’re just trying to find a way to make it easier for you to do these interviews. I’ll see if I can ban any personal questions in the meantime so we can think of something else.” Charlotte apologises, acknowledging the complexity of the situation and expressing a commitment to finding an alternative solution.

Charlotte and Zak leave the room after a few minutes of discussion, leaving Lando and Natalie to brew in an awkward silence. The atmosphere becomes charged with tension, and both struggle to maintain eye contact.

“Lando.” Natalie starts, but Lando interrupts her.

“You’re right, a fake relationship will just cause more trouble than good.” Lando states as he gets up and glances down at her still seated.

“We’ll find a way to get them to stop asking, I promise.” She assures him before he heads out to his race.

As Lando leaves the room, Natalie is left with a mix of relief and lingering tension, aware that the delicate balance of managing Lando's public image continues to pose challenges.

A small part of Lando feels disappointed and rejected. The swift dismissal of the idea by Natalie stirs a sense of disappointment in him. He recognizes that she may not have given the proposal proper consideration, and a subtle feeling of rejection lingers. Despite understanding the potential pitfalls, there's a fleeting sense of what could have been—a solution to ease the relentless pressure on his personal life.

Natalie, on the other hand, hates the sinking feeling in her chest. She knows that she could have potentially offered a solution to Lando's biggest problem, but her commitment to professional ethics and a sense of transparency prevails. The idea of a fake relationship goes against her principles, even though she acknowledges the potential relief it could bring to Lando.

- AFTER THE RACE -

Natalie sits quietly in her seat, her eyes fixed on the race unfolding before her. The air is thick with anticipation as the cars zoom around the track. However, her keen observation reveals that Lando seems distracted. Silly mistakes punctuate his performance, and the Ferrari relentlessly trails him around every corner on the last lap.

As the race reaches its climax, tension builds. The Ferrari seizes an opportunity and overtakes Lando on the final straight, securing the win as they navigate the last corner. The disappointment is palpable as Lando finishes in second position once again. The roar of the crowd and the cheers for the victor only serve to amplify the quiet frustration that lingers in the McLaren pit.

Natalie watches, her expression reflecting a mix of concern and understanding. She knows the weight that each race carries for Lando, and the disappointment in falling short of victory is a shared sentiment.

“That’s P2, mate. P2.” Jon, Lando’s race engineer, calls over the radio.

“Absolute shit.” Lando mumbles back over his radio.

The crew sighs with disappointment, but they still rush out to congratulate Lando on his second position. Natalie, aware of the impending media scrutiny, stays behind. Her phone immediately starts flooding with messages, signaling the onslaught of media questions Lando can expect once he gets to the media pen.

In the quiet aftermath of the race, Natalie prepares herself to manage the upcoming barrage of inquiries, shielding Lando from the immediate aftermath of disappointment. The pit buzzes with a mix of subdued chatter and the distant cheers of the victorious team. Lando's frustration is palpable, and Natalie readies herself to navigate the delicate post-race interactions with the media.

Lando returns to the garage after taking to the podium for his champagne celebrations and walks right to his driver’s room. Natalie follows him as she attempts to prepare him for his media debriefing. She runs him through some of the questions, but he merely grunts in response.

“Well done on P2, Lando. So close to that first F1 win. What happened out there on that last lap?” Jenson Button, the interviewer, asks Lando, the disappointment evident in his question

“It’s disappointing to say the least. And, frustrating. I don’t really know what happened, just stupid mistakes on my part. Braking too soon, I suppose.” Lando shrugs off the answer, visibly agitated and over the whole media session.

“That first win is so well within your grasp. What’s the next step to get you on that winner’s podium?” Jenson continues to ask.

“Just have to keep our heads down and keep pushing.” Lando bluntly responds.

“Any plans to relax and rewind tonight before heading to Australia later this month?” Jenson queries, changing the topic.

“Nothing special at the moment, we’ll see what the mood is like after debriefing.” Lando is stoic with his response.

“Hopefully the ladies can show you some love tonight to get your spirits up.” Jenson teases Lando with a light jab in the shoulder.

Lando grows visibly frustrated throughout the interview and before he can respond to the interviewer’s last statement, Natalie steps in, recognising the need to manage the situation and shield Lando from further agitation.

“Thank you for your questions. Please remember to refrain from making personal statements or asking personal questions in the future. That’s all for tonight. Thank you again.” She bluntly states before following Lando out of the media pen and back to his driver’s room.

The weight of guilt intensifies within Natalie. The frustration and discomfort Lando experienced during the interview only serve to amplify her sense of responsibility. As they retreat from the media scrutiny, the unspoken acknowledgment of the challenges in managing Lando's public image remains. The delicate balance between personal ethics and professional obligations becomes more apparent, leaving Natalie to grapple with the uncharted territory of their evolving relationship and the unspoken possibilities that linger beneath the surface.

“Why do they feel the need to know everything all the time?” Lando snaps once she closes the door behind her. “When did they become so entitled to the point where they need to know who I’m seeing and what I’m doing?”

The frustration in Lando's voice resonates, highlighting the relentless scrutiny that comes with fame in the Formula 1 world. Natalie understands the weight of the questions, the intrusion into his personal life, and the toll it takes on his mental and emotional well-being. In the silence that follows, she becomes a silent witness to the internal struggle he faces, torn between the demands of public life and the desire for privacy.

“As if I didn’t have a shit enough race, they feel the need to rub it into my face that I am single and have no one here to motivate me.” He continues.

“Okay, that’s enough.” Natalie sternly intervenes causing him to pause and look at her, his eyes widening just a tad. “When did you start caring about what others say or think about you?”

Natalie’s question hangs in the air, a gentle reminder that external opinions should not dictate his worth or define his identity. Her stern tone conveys a protective stance, shielding him from the unnecessary burden of societal expectations.

“So, you’re single. Great. Live your life, go out, go party, go hook-up with some random girls. You have nothing tying you down. Let them enjoy that, let them keep speculating, let them keep your name trending without any cause or facts. Your relationship status does not define who you are.” Natalie continues, exhausted and breathless.

Her words resonate with a sense of liberation, an insistence that Lando should not allow external perceptions to dictate his actions or self-worth. The exhaustion in her voice carries the weight of witnessing someone she cares about being affected by the incessant scrutiny. In this moment, Natalie transcends her role as a PR manager, becoming a confidante and a voice of reason for Lando, encouraging him to embrace the freedom that comes with being unburdened by societal expectations.

"And, there are plenty of people here to motivate you and support you." Natalie adds, offended by the fact that he has looked past her and the team's support.

Their conversation is cut short by a call from Lando’s best friend, Max. Recognizing the need for personal space, Natalie tactfully steps away, leaving Lando to converse with his best friend.

“Hey, buddy.” Lando answers.

“Hey, man. You good? What was that last lap?” Max asks.

“My head was not in that race at all today.” Lando admits.

“Why? What happened?” Max implores.

“You know how everyone’s been asking me about my love life. So, management suggests I fake date this model and Natalie shoots that down, and rightfully so, she made some good points. Then Charlotte asks if Natalie wouldn’t fake date me instead, since it would be more believable, and then she rejects that idea instantly.” Lando explains.

“So, are you mad that everyone keeps bugging you about it or mad at Natalie because she rejected the idea?” Max asks to clarify the situation.

“Is it wrong that I’m mad at her for not wanting to help me out?” Lando mumbles.

“Dude, she just got out of an abusive six-year relationship, do you really blame her for going the drama-free route?” Max counters.

“Of course, I don’t blame her for that. It’s just frustrating having to answer these questions all the time and deal with stupid statements.” Lando responds.

“She’s been doing a good job getting you out of answering those questions. Just ride the wave. They’ll get bored with this eventually.” Max assures his friend.

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Taglist: @noneofyourfbusinessworld

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