#syd has no chill

[kommandonuovidiavoli]

When Syd's skils of being a KND mapist got hardwired into his brain so hard that even after decommission he can still guess almost any places with the vaguest desc

There are some limits.

[ryanstillwrites-if]

so glad you finally found an apartment also WHAT THE HECK CONGRATS ON BECOMING PARENTS????? SO HAPPY FOR YOU I WISH YOU ALL THE BEST!!!!! SENDING CYBER HUGS FOR BOTH YOU AND YOUR GRACIOUS LADY!!!

thank you! honestly i still cant really believe it, like me? a PARENT?? i can barely keep myself alive and ive had almost three decades of practise. but it's okay, i have at least seven months to get my act together... wish me luck!

[world0fmadness]

⋆ ˚｡⋆ ✩ ˚ ROSBERG AND ROSBUG

nico rosberg x wife! reader x ( platonic! ) oc daughters

featuring: just a whole lot of domestic fluff with nico and nico adoring his babies

faceclaim: assorted

୨୧ the lack of fanfic for this man… oooh boy, pisses me off so bad i can’t even… so just have this short and sweet domestic fluff! reader can be of any profession in this fic to be honest, but i imagine them both to now be retired! fellow nico rosberg fans… eat up <3 some of the images don’t have two kids but pretend they do and some don’t really match the ages but i imagine little rabbit to be around 5 - 7 years old and little ladybug to be newborn - 2 years old throughout the posts

୨୧ related hc available here, here and here

reading music recommendations: to all of you by syd matters - youth by daughter - hey lover by daughters of eve

nicorosberg: i think yn likes being pregnant because she gets to use her baby bump as a table… hm 🤔 oh yes! yn is pregnant again!

nicoynforever: EXCUSE ME?

> nicoynforever: WHAT?

oldf1lvr: what a way to announce it 😭

sebastianvettel ✔️: you did not tell me? - sebastian

> jensonbutton ✔️: nor me 💔

> markwebber ✔️: me neither!

> nicorosberg ✔️: sorry mates, you know how me and yn are!

❤️ liked by sebastianvettel, jensonbutton and markwebber

> oldf1lvr: not the ex-drivers now dilfs being kept in the dark for so long too…

iluvf1: yep! she’s pretty pregnant! lmao 😭

loveunico: this is so them, i love it actually

f1lover: she’s such a comfy chill mom… i want this someday but only if the man is like nico

> ynrosbergln ✔️: word of advice: don’t settle for anyone who isn’t at least a little like nico 💘

❤️ liked by nicorosberg

nicorosberg: welcome the newest member of the rosberg family! my little ladybug or my little rosbug should i say 🤔 little ( or not so little anymore 😢 ) rabbit loves her new sibling so much already 🐰 🐞

oldf1lvr: rosbug… for his little ladybug… 🥹

> iluvf1: oh my god this is so cute i’m gonna go scream into a pillow real quick

jensonbutton ✔️: little rabbit has gotten so big! i’ll have to come visit you lot soon to meet the new addition, congratulations mate

❤️ liked by nicorosberg and ynrosbergln

> nicorosberg ✔️: yes! i feel it was only yesterday when she fit in the palm of my hand… but it feels great to relive those moments now with our new little ladybug ❤️

❤️ liked by jensonbutton

nicoynforever: first it was little rabbit for their first baby and for their second it’s little ladybug 🥹

> new2f1: have they ever explained the nicknames?

> nicoynforever: well we don’t know the story behind little ladybug yet but little rabbit is because according to yn, she had a twitchy nose ever since she was a baby

> ynrosbergln ✔️: little ladybug is because she has two identical beauty marks on opposite sides of her back! so she looks like a little ladybug

❤️ liked by nicorosberg

> nicoynforever: okay… i’m so calm about all of this… so calm about how cute that is… so calm about yn replying to my comment… so calm

❤️ liked by ynrosbergln and nicorosberg

> nicoynforever: THEYRE TRYING TO KILL ME 😭 THIS IS AN ATTEMPT TO GIVE ME A HEART ATTACK

sebastianvettel ✔️: congratulations nico and yn! i’ll have to come visit with the girls someday - sebastian

❤️ liked by ynrosbergln and nicorosberg

> oldf1lvr: YES, GO SEE THEM SEB 😭

> iluvf1: would be nice if someone else paid him a visit… hmph…

> oldf1lvr: 🫢

nicorosberg uploaded to his story!

nicorosberg and ynrosbergln: little rabbit finally has her own rabbit 🐇 🐰 welcome to the family britney

nicoynforever: BRITNEY?

> oldf1lvr: THEY DID NOT…

> iluvf1: THEY DID 😭

jensonbutton ✔️: looks like a britney to me! almost like someone else i know 🤔

❤️ liked by ynrosbergln and nicorosberg

> nicorosberg ✔️: oh? really? wonder who that could be…

❤️ liked by jensonbutton

nicontop: little rabbit with her own little rabbit 🥹 this is so cute

oldf1lvr: he seems so at peace now… good for him ❤️

iluvf1: no one could ever make me hate you nico rosberg…

> lovemyf1dilfs: yes! he’s just living his best life with his girls, he’s always been the best boy 🥹

nicorosberg: had a great time this week! thanks for the love everyone showed me, but truth be told, i can’t wait to go home to my girls ❤️ 🐰 🐞

nicoynforever: he just wants to go home to his girls already 🥹

> nicontop: he loves his girls so much 😭

nicontop: he’s still so hot to me 🫣

❤️ liked by ynrosbergln

ynrosbergln ✔️: we miss you ❤️ have a safe flight back, the girls send kisses

> nicorosberg ✔️: yes liebe, miss you too, many kisses back to my girls ❤️

❤️ liked by ynrosbergln

jensonbutton ✔️: always nice seeing you again mate!

> nicorosberg ✔️: of course, you too jenson 🙂

oldf1lvr: nico rosberg, the dilf that you are…

❤️ liked by ynrosbergln

> oldf1lvr: and yn ln, the milf that you are…

❤️ liked by nicorosberg

nicorosberg and ynrosbergln: this is the life 🍋 🐰 🌻

iluvf1: i want to live their life…

nicoynforever: NICO AND YN DO YOU NEED A THIRD CHILD?

nicoynforever: OR HOUSE ENTERTAINMENT?

nicoynforever: OR EVEN A PET?

oldf1lvr: their life looks so peaceful and happy 🥹

> iluvf1: yeah, i understand why he retired to live a life like this, just living life in the countryside with his girls

jensonbutton ✔️: they’ve gotten bigger! i’ll have to come visit again soon ❤️

❤️ liked by ynrosbergln and nicorosberg

> ynrosbergln ✔️: definitely do! little ladybug missed her favourite uncle ❤️

❤️ liked by nicorosberg and jensonbutton

> markwebber ✔️: excuse me? 🤔

> nicorosberg ✔️: what yn meant was, her favourite british uncle!

❤️ liked by ynrosbergln, markwebber and jensonbutton

nicontop: little rabbit picking lemons and little ladybug picking flowers… i can’t 💔

loveuyn: that picture of nico taking a picture of little rabbit… so cute

> nicoynforever: literally… i bet they have SO many photo albums already 😭

> nicontop: he’s such a proud dad 💔

nicoynforever: the pictures of nico and yn 🥹 they’re still so in love, love to see it

> oldf1lvr: literally… look at how she’s looking at him in the 7th picture

lovemyf1dilfs: nico rosberg, born to be a girl dad

❤️ liked by ynrosbergln and nicorosberg

⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨୧ ˚ NEW ADDED BONUS ˚ ୨୧ ⋆｡˚ ⋆

love you forever nico <3

[becsabillion4]

false god (we still worship)

pairing: carmen berzatto x f!reader

summary: Carmen has a bad shift, but you’re more than willing to turn his night around and show him exactly how good he is.

word count: 3,362

tags: SMUT, rough sex, unprotected sex, oral sex, creampie, semi-public sex, window sex, lingerie, praise kink, vulnerable Carmy, 18+ only

note: this is explicit 18+ only and yet again NOT an advert for safe sex. with that said, it’s fucking hot ;) and thank you to the wonderful person who submitted the prompt that inspired this, based around Carmy having a tough day and reader taking care of him (even though I’ve failed at tumblr and can’t find the original message). enjoy!!

thesydkid

Yo. Awful shift. Glad you weren’t here to see it.

whochefsouschef

fuckkk what happened?

thesydkid

Newbies think they know better than Tina because they went to CIA. You can imagine how Carmy took that.

whochefsouschef

was it kyle? he’s been like that since he started.

thesydkid

Yeah

Classic

whochefsouschef

syd?

I know that’s not all. kyle doesn’t warrant a text warning

thesydkid

Carm got food sent back.

whochefsouschef

shit.

thanks for the heads up

thesydkid

Good luck, cya tomorrow.

—------------------------------

It’s late, the kind of late where even the drunks winding through the streets have stopped their singing, the kind where it’s already too late to go to bed and get an ounce of good sleep. It’s the kind of late where you would have known it was a bad night even if Sydney hadn’t texted you first, because you know how hard Carmy cleans when he’s upset, and exactly how long that takes.

You sit up in bed abruptly, pushing your hair out of your face and considering your options. You have maybe ten minutes if Sydney texted you as soon as Carmy left, ten minutes to decide how you want to handle this kind of bad day. You feel a surge of frustration that you weren’t on shift tonight. As the Front of House Manager, you could have soothed the moronic, greedy, power-tripping customer who wanted to pull one over on the best chef in Chicago by sending back his perfect food-

Actually, maybe it was for the best you weren’t on shift tonight, or you might no longer have a job.

You smile when you think about how Richie will have handled it though. His courteous, collected energy even as he probably said something like, “Oh, you’d like to send this back? Wow, I’ve never heard a, uh - what do you call ‘em - oh, complaint before. Are you sure you know what this dish is?”

The smile fades when you think about Carmy’s reaction. You push yourself out of bed, decided by the image of his frustration, the anger he uses to hide his sadness. There’s been a few particularly bad shifts since you and Carmy moved in together - and Richie labelled himself as “matchmaker to the stars” for hiring you - and you know that if left to his own devices, Carmy will happily stay up all night stewing.

But you’re here now, and you’re determined not to let him. So you set your plan in motion.

By the time you hear his keys clink in the lock, you’re settled by the sofa, bare skin slightly chilled by the evening air coming in from the cracked window. You glance up as Carmy walks in, catch his eye, and he stops dead, hand still on the lock.

Bluer-than-blue eyes flicker across the scene you’re presenting for him - your best lingerie, your patient kneel, steady eyes - and he straightens from his tired stoop.

“Hey,” he murmurs, eyes still tracing how the lace drapes across your skin in the low light.

“Hi,” you smile. “Join me?”

Without looking away from you, Carmy shuts the door, drops his stuff in a careless pile. “Syd texted?”

“I couldn’t sleep. And I wanted to surprise you.”

Carmy’s eyes drift away from you for a second, glancing around the room, like he does when he’s thinking something through. You can almost hear his brain clicking through the gears. Turning the kitchen off, turning something else on.

“It was bad, sweetheart,” he says. “Fuckin’ shitty.”

“It’s over.” You raise a hand to him, tilt your head towards the sofa. “Get over here and let me do filthy things to you to make up for it.”

He laughs at that, toes off his shoes and takes the few steps to the sofa. He doesn’t sink into the cushions like you expected though, but kneels in front of you. You reach out, run a hand over the side of his face, feel the days-old stubble rasping under your touch. Bringing your other hand up, you cup his face, thumbs tracing over the bags under his eyes like you can smooth them out with that simple touch. You can feel his exhaustion in the way he leans forward into the feeling, and it breaks something in you.

When you kiss him, you intend for it to be careful and slow. Bring him out of his shell, remind him that things outside The Bear exist. But the moment your mouths press together, the moment you nip the edge of his bottom lip, the drained and defeated Carmy is gone.

He surges forward, almost sending you tipping over backwards, arms wrapping around your waist. One hand slides to your lower back, stretching to cover as much of your skin as he can possibly grasp. Pulling you forward, Carmy bows his head to suck a bruise into your throat and you know for damn sure it’ll be visible tomorrow. A glaring mark, a “fuck you” to the rest of the world painted on your skin.

Your hands are far from idle either, and as one pulls at his T-shirt, rucking it up to explore the muscles beneath, you run a finger from the other over the arch of his ear. Carmy shudders in a broad, full-body motion and his hips stutter, jerk forward into you. You both moan at the contact and you want to chase it, feel him pressed between your thighs, but clearly Carmy has other ideas.

He reaches under your arms and pulls you up to stand with him, letting his hands continue their journey down your sides to reach your waist. All you have time to do is gasp as he hoists you off your feet, and he’s already walking towards your floor-length window as you desperately try to wrap your legs around his waist. He doesn’t give you much chance to breathe, the hand not holding you up pushing deep into your hair and curling strands around his fingers so he can pull your head back, press more kisses to the hollow of your throat.

For a dizzying moment, you can see the lights of Chicago upside down, but you manage to pull your head up just before your back hits the cold glass. You hiss at the chill against your bared skin and Carmy runs a hot palm around to your back in apology even as his tongue continues its insistent sweeps against your own.

You barely register the soft clink of his belt, the push and rustle of fabric between you until his cock is pressed close, the only thing keeping it from filling you your own stupid lacy underwear.

With a frustrated groan, Carmy gently lowers you until your feet sink into the carpet, but he still gives you no room to move, pressing you into the misted-up glass as if he can’t tear his body from yours.

“Carmy,” you pant, unsure what you’re asking, but you know he understands when he grabs your upper arm, spins you around to face the view. The glass is warmer now, but still cold enough that the press of your barely-concealed nipples to its surface makes you moan as you hear Carmy kneel, feel him sliding your panties down your legs.

He doesn’t even let them reach your ankles before he’s up again, kissing his way along your spine as he goes, and finally, finally, the head of his cock nestles in where it needs to be.

Its hot and heavy presence has you pushing your hips back, wanting to feel the glorious slide of him, lose yourself in the moment he splits you, and all you can see, eyes half-slitted in pleasure, are the glittering lights of the city below. You live pretty high up and the lights are low enough that none of the busy pedestrians below should see, but all it would really take is a glance up and an observant eye. To see your breasts pressed against the glass, Carmy’s possessive hands gripping your hips as he finally drives into you. Even from this distance, you imagine the pleasure on your own face and your walls flutter around Carmy until he growls, pulls your hands from where they were flat against the window into a bind behind you.

There is nothing kind and gentle about this moment, no give in Carmy’s body as he fucks into you, and you revel in it. Let him take his pain and translate it into pleasure through your body. Let him take and take and take until he has nothing left to give, and let the world see him doing it. Let them see what’s his.

These thoughts alone have you teetering, desperate for a few more strokes, but the surprise of Carmy reaching around to draw lazy circles over your clit as he snarls, “Fucking look at you, look how good you take me,” has you seizing up instantly. You can faintly hear your own surprised cry through the buzzing in your ears, and Carmy’s gasps as he feels you pulsate around him, but you only fully come back to yourself when you press your forehead against the blessedly cool glass.

The strength of your orgasm is enough that your legs are visibly shaking now, and without a word, Carmy bends to scoop up your lower half and pulls you in, cradling you across his front. You close your eyes for a moment, trying to calm your breathing as you push your face into his chest, but before you can even begin to get your head straight, you feel soft sheets on your back as he lowers you to the bed.

He sinks down beside you, and all his desperation from a moment ago is gone as his body finally relaxes. He’s still hard and straining towards you, but the light has dimmed in his eyes, so when you reach for him, it’s to run a hand across his cheek, to bring his eyes to yours. When you move towards him, it’s to curl your legs with his, to press your forehead against his and settle his breathing with your own.

People think Carmy is so used to taking shit that it doesn’t hurt him anymore, but you know. You know how each word drives so deep that he doesn’t know how to take good anymore, how he invites the anger and the aggression of a kitchen into his soul because the alternative is realising that all the shit he’s been through is too awful, too devastating to reconcile. To keep feeling it, so he has no time to wonder what his life would be without it.

You see the weakness and the fear and the vulnerability, and you know how he absorbs the feeling and translates it into his work, how he uses it to fuel him, how he turns the criticism and the insults and the hatred into being better, being perfect, doing a good job.

“You are so wonderful, Carmy,” you murmur, and when he tries to look away, you hold his head still. “Tell me what happened.”

“Nothing. Shit, not really anything.” You’re silent, and he sighs as he caves under the pressure of your gaze. “Back when I was in New York, you remember that chef I told you about?”

You nod, because you know you can’t say anything remotely okay about that particular chef.

“He had this thing, about pasta. Thought he was some kind of expert because he spent, like, three months with Massimo Bottura. We had to boil water from cold every time, for every single batch of pasta we served, and there was this exact amount of salt we had to add. It wasn’t like a teaspoon, it was seven point three grams for every hundred of pasta. And he could fucking tell if you were off, he barely had to taste it. One time I saw him smell somebody’s pasta and tell them they were off by point two.” Carmy’s voice is shaking, and you move your thumb along his cheekbone slowly, calmly, giving him something to root himself to. Remind him he’s not there.

“And I was thinking about it while I was cooking the bucatini, and it’s like he was in the room again, saying the same shit he always did. Watching over my shoulder as I added the salt, and it made me so mad,” Carmy mutters, breaths coming in pants now. “And I didn’t even think, I just added like way too much salt. Enough to fuckin’ ruin it, ‘cos I just wanted to see him choke on it. And then I sent it out.”

You don’t take your eyes from his face as you curl one hand down to straighten the fingers of his, to stop the nails he’s digging deep into his palm from cutting into his skin.

“And of course it got sent back, and Richie apologised and comped their bill, and they didn’t care. But, like, I just sabotaged my own restaurant. My own reputation, becuase I can’t stop fuckin’ thinking about salting pasta,” Carmy finishes in a rush, and he finally meets your eyes.

“Carmy, you’re working in a kitchen every day. It’s no surprise you remember other kitchens you’ve been in, and the kind of behaviour you’ve had to endure. But it’s not that kitchen anymore. This is your kitchen we’re talking about, your space. When you look over your shoulder, he’s not there anymore. Syd is, and she’s got your back. We’re not some pristine, sterile team with no heart. Richie’s there.” You feel a surge of emotion so strong for the brilliant, vulnerable man in front of you that you push your face into his shoulder, hard enough that he has to steady himself from falling back onto the bed. His other hand comes up to card loosely through your hair, and you suppress a soft noise of comfort to finish with, “I’m there.”

“I know, baby,” he responds, pulling you closer until you’re practically curled into his lap. “And I think it’ll get easier, it’s already easier. I just don’t think I’ll ever entirely stop sabotaging myself. I’m not like the food I make, I’m not composed and-and, perfect. I’m not, uh, not always good at stuff.”

“Okay, but you’re good plenty of the time,” you whisper, looking up at him. You smile as he glances down, catches your eye. “I could go on for days about the stuff you’re good at.”

“Oh yeah?” Carmy murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead, down and round the edge of your face to the shell of your ear. You shiver instinctively, press into the feeling.

“You’re good at that. Good at getting me out of control,” and your voice is already shaking.

“You’re not out of control, babe. I’ve got you. You’re mine,” Carmy is muttering inbetween kisses as he rolls you onto your back, pins your arms to your sides with his legs and begins to fully slide off your lingerie, slowly, carefully. His hands are, as always, steady. You remember all the times you’ve watched him roll a cigarette, piece together edible art as flames lick at his chef’s whites, and you can’t remember a time you’ve seen them shake.

From the eye of the storm he’s creating in you, you watch as he slides down the bed, skimming his lips across your trembling thighs until he sits back, and moves his hands to your knees.

You can almost feel the pleasure it gives him as, at the lightest touch from him, you part your legs, let him see what he does to you. What he has done. When he growls, you realise he can see remnants of your earlier escapade against the window at your entrance, his come marking you.

When Carmy dips his finger inside you, your hips jerk towards him, but he holds them down with one hand. His finger delves deep for a moment, and then leaves you suddenly, but before you can protest, he brings his hand to your face, offers you the digit. You’re entranced by the silent command in his eyes, and with no hesitation, you open your mouth and let Carmy’s come-covered finger slide inside, press deep towards the back of your throat. When you swallow, the bitterness makes you moan, envision being on your knees for Carmy, his fingers twined so deep into your hair it hurts, feeling his white-hot heat at the back of your throat.

It breaks whatever tension was stretched taut between you, and Carmy wraps his arms around your legs, pulls your body towards him and lowers his face between your thighs. For a moment, he teases you, nibbling at the juncture where your leg curves into your hip, skimming his teeth across the bone, but you know he’s secretly just as impatient as you are, and when he takes his first tender lick across your clit, he moans even louder than you do.

Giving head is an art for Carmy, and feels like a privilege to you. You’ve seen him enjoy food in the kitchen, give somebody that blown-away glance that they’ve worked their whole lives to see, but he never takes more than one bite.

But this, with you, as you watch him devour you whole...It’s the only meal you’ve ever watched him finish.

Tongue swirling delicately across your center, breaking for hungry kisses to your thighs as his hands grasp at any inch of you he can reach, you can’t help the words that spill from you, “yes, yes, Carmy, you’re so good, you make me feel so good, my good boy, please-“, but you can’t continue as he slides two fingers deep inside your aching pussy, so deep you don’t ever want him to move.

At this point in the erotic novels you read during your lunch break (which, if Fak were to find them, would spell the end of your career), the heroine says something about how it feels like hours pass with her lover between her legs. But this is real life, and all Carmy has to do is mutter, “Finish for me baby, finish for me,” for you to come embarrassingly quickly.

You’re practically incoherent on the comedown, and all you can summon the strength to do is pull him into you, press kisses to his forehead and mumble over and over how fucking amazing he makes you feel.

“If you lose everything else, Carmy, if you ever think there isn’t a thing in this world you’re any good at, just know that you are a god at giving head,” you pant eventually, and when he pushes his face into your neck, you can feel his smile there.

For a moment more, you just enjoy the press of his body against yours, revel in the sweat and slick between you. It dawns on you slowly just how slick it feels, and you gasp as you realise-

“Carmy, did you-?”

Carmy laughs into your skin, tracing one hand across your chest idly until you shiver. “Yeah. You, uh, you were moaning and telling me how good I was and…it was hot.”

You laugh with him breathlessly, still kind of in awe at how well you fit after all this time, how at home you feel with him. “Well, I hope that made your bad day a little better.”

Carmy is silent for a second before he murmurs, “You have no idea what you do for me,” and you can see the shine of his eyes in the glitter of the city lights filtering through your window. “There can never be a bad day if I end it right here, in this bed, in your arms.”

You would reply, but he’s kissing you into silence before you can, and you wonder for a moment if any words will ever need to be said between you and Carmy again, or whether you can communicate all the fear, all the anger, all the love, just with kisses and touch and his lips against yours. But eventually, as you slip into sleep with his body twined around yours, you decide that tongues were made for more than just talking.

[if-chaos-was-a-boy]

Open Starter: Sneaking Out PT 2. The repetition.

[ok guys let’s wind it back again, this was the concept for one of my first ever open starters- and calix has grown so much]

You were in your cabin, probably chilling, maybe breaking down when you heard a knock on your window, accompanied with calix pressing his face and hands against it,

“LET ME IN.” He mouthed.

Do you let him in? Spray bug spray? Close the curtains? Cry? Laugh?

Anyways taglist:

@that-girl-cupid

@demigod-jack-hearth

@unhinged-waterlilly

@love-lightning-forethought

@iceweavercatlover / @debacleofdaemons

@chaos-pers0nified

@stephen-the-spider

@bambi-the-dummy

@emdabitchass

@i-was-never-sane

@athenas-weirdo-daughter

@divine-wine-daughter

@kaiaalwayswins

@smileyalater

@daonedaonlyskh

@kiaradaughterofselene

@pink-koi-lovejoy

@itsyourboyezra

@hispanic-child-of-hermes

@mireya-the-awkward-extrovert

@gellyhelio

@ariathemortal

@arisdaughter

@syd-the-nerd

@steve-the-union-man

@reyna4ever

[tightjeansjavi]

And They Were Roommates | drabble

“Lavender Haze”

A/N: I have no explanation for this other than the fact that I’m severely touch deprived and want to take a bath with Joel and Logan 😔 thank you to @syd-djarin for the beautiful moodboard and thank u @sinsofsummers for betaing 😩

word count: 1.6k

Summary: A three-way in the bath OR Joel complains that his back hurts and you and Logan take care of him ;)

Pairing | Joel Miller x Logan Howlett x f!reader

Warnings: mature, smut, mentions of alcohol, throuple, Joel and Logan are your boyfriends who are also boyfriends, language, +18 minors dni!

series masterlist

The days are growing increasingly shorter and colder, and the winter months are steadfast on the horizon. But despite the chill in the air, and the dull ache in his lower back muscles and shoulders, Joel is content; satisfied. He knows that you and Logan are at home, anticipating his arrival. Joel can’t help but wonder what compromising situation he’ll find you and the Wolverine in today.

Just last week he stumbled upon quite the erotic scene, finding you sprawled out on the kitchen table beneath the sheer mass of Logan and his claws leaving long, jagged marks in the once pristine furnished wood. It was Joel’s favorite table, one of his first furnished pieces that he carved by hand. Logan apologized profusely—on his knees for the extensive damage he caused.

Today, however, the house was quiet—sans the familiar comforting crackles emitting from the fireplace in the living room.

There’s no sign of you, or Logan, till Joel’s good ear picks up on the distinct rumble of a low grunt, followed by a soft giggle coming from upstairs.

He let out a disgruntled sound from the back of his throat as he bent down to unlace his boots and immediately felt that familiar strain in his lower back from being on patrol all day.

“Gettin’ too fuckin’ old for this shit.” He muttered under his breath, kicking his boots to the side of the worn down welcome mat and hung the strap of his rifle along the hook in the wall.

His good ear perks up at the sound of your soft, desperate, little moans coming from up the stairs. He lets out a huff, subtly glancing down at the noticeable strain in his stiff, worn down jeans. There’s an endearing patch of mix-matched fabric stitched lovingly right along the thigh where a large, and obvious rip used to exist.

He shakes his head, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth and looks towards the top of the staircase with an amused grin. His favorite spot, the leather recliner near the fireplace is calling his name, beckoning him to sit down and rest his aching muscles, but his hardening cock has a mind of its own, and he misses his two lovers that he fondly calls home.

As he ascends up the stairs, he discovers articles of yours and Logan’s clothing scattered about, and he bends down, looping one of his fingers through the delicate hem of your discarded panties.

He slowly brings them up to his face, inspecting them with a twitch of his lips and the scent of your arousal permeating in the air. He inhales deeply, burying the bridge of his nose against the damp patch of fabric with a content sigh.

He stuffs your panties into the back pocket of his jeans and gathers up the rest of yours and Logan’s clothing on his way up. “Fuckin’ animals.” He chuckles to himself and makes a pit stop to the laundry basket in the hallway, first.

That’s when a new scent invades his senses; lavender.

His footsteps are undetected by either you and Logan, as you’re far too consumed with one another to hear Joel’s arrival.

You were surprised to hear that Logan was eager to take your offer up on having a relaxing afternoon soak in the tub, but you came to learn that the Wolverine did in fact enjoy a bit of pampering every now and then.

It started off innocent, with you giving Logan a well deserved scalp massage, lathering his hair in homemade lavender shampoo, but then he kissed you—and well, you couldn’t say no, not when he was whispering absolute filth between heated kisses, and guiding your hips to straddle his own. He didn’t give two fucks that you warned him about the risks of getting soap in his eyes, not when you were nestled so warmly around his aching cock.

“Don’t stop—please.” Joel hears the desperation in Logan’s throaty voice, and his jeans grow even tighter as he quietly pushes open the ajar bathroom door to find you and the Wolverine tangled together in the sudsy water surrounded by the soft glow of flickering candles.

And despite the way that his skin prickles with jealousy when he finds you nestled in the Wolverine’s lap, his arms wound around your waist, holding you flush, strong hands gripping the soft swell of your ass, blunt fingernails latching on like hooks. He doesn’t want his presence to be known, not yet, not while he can watch the way your breath mingles, hitches with want, and the languid roll of your hips—a constant rhythm being met with the sheer force of the Wolverine’s desperate thrusts causing ripples along the surface of the tub.

He crosses his arms against his chest, resting his exhausted back against the wall, watching the hidden desperation in a chaste kiss between you and Logan. He can feel your body buzzing with need—and the Wolverine can sense it, too.

“Thas’ it, sweet girl. Doin’ so good for me.” Logan purrs against your lips, a smirk appearing when he feels your nails digging into shoulder blades. His eyes roll back from the sensation of pain blurring into intoxicating pleasure. “Takin’ my cock so well, jus’ like you always do.”

Joel pushes himself off from the wall, padding over to the toilet and quietly flips the seat up before he undoes the buckle on his belt, followed by the metallic scritch of the zipper being yanked down.

The movement in the tub finally stills, and Logan briefly detaches his lips from yours, swollen with your kisses and a translucent thread of saliva hangs between you and him.

“That you, bub?” He rasps.

“Don’t stop on my account, Logan. Don’t wanna leave our girl hangin’, do we?” Joel answers back with a grin. “By the way, it reeks like a Bath and Body Works threw up in here.”

The other man laughs, loosening his grip around you slightly when you begin to pepper little kisses and nips at the base of his throat. “We would have waited for you, baby. But Logan has a way with his words.”

“His words, huh?” Joel teases and eases his cock out from its confines so he can finally piss. “Sure it was his words, and not his cock buried inside of you that did it?”

“He’s very persuasive.”

“Don’t I know it.” He grunts in reply.

“It was her magic hands that did it. You ever gotten a scalp massage from this one? I’m sure you have—but christ, she had me practically purring in her lap.”

“Mhm.” Joel hums and re-zips his jeans, closes the lid to the toilet seat and then flushes. “She does have magic fingers, that’s for damn sure.”

“Why don’t you join us, baby? The water is still warm.” You suggest with a coy smile, slipping out of Logan’s loose grasp so you can rest your elbows along the side of the tub.

“Mmm…but you know I hate baths, darlin.’”

“He does hate baths.” You said with a sigh, leaning back against Logan’s strong chest when his arms wrap around you once more, and his chin comes to rest along your shoulder.

“‘Sides, my back is fuckin’ killin’ me after patrol. Think im jus’ gonna crash out downstairs for a bit.” He reassures you both, pivoting on his heel to leave.

You and Logan share a knowing look and he brushes his lips against the shell of your ear, hot breath fanning the sensitive skin.

“Work too hard out there, Miller. Let us take care of you.” His voice rumbles against your ear as you lean further into him.

Joel’s lips twitch upwards as if he’s going to grin. “I see what you two shit stirrers are doin’, and it ain’t gonna work on me.” He softly scoffs, but his words don’t mirror his actions, and he feels that invisible, magnetic pull guiding him towards the tub.

“How about a kiss instead, baby? We’ve missed you.” You cooed.

“Alright.” He concedes, “one kiss for each of ya, and then I’m outta here.” He insists, but even he knows he can’t resist you or Logan in the end.

“One kiss, bub.” Logan rasps, and is already tilting his head upwards when Joel leans down, resting his hands along the side of the tub. Their lips brush just as you grab Joel’s hand and Logan reaches for the hem of his shirt. Together, you manage to pull Joel into the tub, sending watering sloshing over the rim and creating an even bigger puddle than before.

Joel’s not even the least bit angry, even though his scowl says otherwise. He laughs, deeply, right from his belly when he feels two pairs of lips along the side of his face.

“‘Coulda let me take my clothes off first.” He chuckles, turning his head to the side so that he can meet your lips, first.

“You wouldn’t have gotten in otherwise, bub.” Logan says teasingly, reaching for his belt under the water and undoes it swiftly.

“Touché, Howlett. Touché.” Joel sighs into your mouth, jaw going slack under the Wolverines touch when he pulls his cock free, finally.

The candles surrounding the tub have almost completely melted down by the time that you, Joel, and Logan pull yourselves out of the now lukewarm water.

The ache in Joel’s back is duller, now, and he can’t really complain much, especially after you and Logan took care of him devotedly. He still ends up lounged out on his favorite recliner, fireside with his clothes drying. A glass of whiskey sits perched in his palm as he relaxes, listening to the soft chatter between you and Logan in the kitchen.

A hidden smile appears over the rim of his glass, and he lets out a content sigh, warmth flooding his heart, all the way down to the tips of his toes.

So, this is what it feels like.

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[kdogreads]

Love Story

Richie Jerimovich x f!reader fun flirty blurb where your friends are visiting you in Chicago 🤪🫶

Just fluffy funsies here but still 18+ as always bc why not. Love yous all💕

———————

The restaurant is mostly void of customers as the busy Saturday dinner service winds down. You look up from your glass as the last sweet drops of whatever wine Richie picked for you tonight dance onto your tongue. That sweet smile you love so much comes into view.

You are wrapping up an evening out with some close friends visiting Chicago. As perfectly timed as always, Richie approaches your party.

“Ladies,” Richie practically sings as he nears the table occupied by you and two of your closest friends, “It’s been my sincere pleasure serving you tonight, and watching you get my lady wine drunk.”

Giggles erupt as your (also slightly wine drunk) friends make heart eyes at you and Richie.

“Richie!” You screeched in mock-anger, “I am not that drunk, thank you very much. Even if I were… That’s on our host for over-serving meeee.”

More giggles dance from your table as your friends enjoy the show you and Richie are putting on.

“You’re right, sweetheart,” He winks your way, loving this game you play, “My apologies to our distinguished guests.”

Wine-fueled cackling erupts as you and your friends eat up every minute Richie spends with you. He really does make you swoon even when he isn’t trying to.

“One last thing before I turn you lovely ladies loose on the town,” The lilt in his voice has you all exchanging looks of excitement, “Dinner is on us tonight. Thank you for being here tonight and showing my girl such a good time.”

Richie’s hands cross over his chest, his gratitude on full display for the world to see. A series of happy sounds and light cheers fill your ears but all you can focus on is how damn blue Richie’s eyes are. How sincere his expression is.

You and your friends clink your wine glasses in a celebration and shrill “cheers!”

None other than the Neil Fak passes behind Richie and slips him a note during your toast. He glances down at it, smirks slightly, and flips it so you can see:

A scrawled out “last guests :)” in black ink. They are professionals to the minute.

Richie’s demeanor changes immediately. He loosens his tie and unbuttons the top button of his crisp white dress shirt. The way his strong shoulders relax slightly let you know that now he can be just be Richie, not maître d’ Richie.

Servers begin cleaning up around you but Richie shows no sense of urgency to leave. He pulls up a chair next to you and takes a sip of your wine, silently nodding to himself at his excellent choice. You shake your head at him teasingly but lean in to kiss his plush lips anyway.

Someone turns up the chill house music and your group settles into comfortable, lively conversation. Carmy and Syd come out to say hi while Fak brings yet another bottle of wine out for you to enjoy. It’s only then that it hits you: Richie is turning the restaurant into a private little nightclub for you and your girls to enjoy. Swoon.

“You look real pretty, baby,” He whispers in your ear and leaves a tender kiss on your temple, “Beautiful.”

Heat rises in your chest as you smile over at him, “So do you, Richie.”

You slide a finger over his exposed neck and find yourself practically drooling at the warm, smooth skin you find.

Richie sees the fire in your eyes and smirks back at you, one eyebrow cocked. He wraps his strong arms around you and pulls you close, his warm body sending goosebumps dancing across your skin.

“Patience, baby,” he whispers deeply in your ear. You pout jokingly for a beat before nodding your head slightly with a giggle. You know he’ll be worth the wait.

You begin to settle into his embrace when you realize the beginning to Love Story (Taylor’s Version, of course) is playing from the hidden speakers. Richie literally gasps in excitement, jolting you slightly before pulling you onto your feet.

“Hell yeah! We love T Swizzle! Right, baby?” The way he lets the joy radiate off of him sends butterflies to your stomach. It’s infectious you think as your closest friends join you in dancing along to this classic love song.

God, you love this man.

You feel the wine and the excitement and the love as you float around the room with Richie. By now, most everyone from the kitchen has joined your group. All you can see around you is a collection of your favorite people having so much fun and living in this very moment.

Your eyes feel watery as Richie tilts your head towards his and smiles warmly. The look of love his face filling your heart up to the very brim.

He gives you small, inquisitive look — silently checking in and making sure you’re okay. You nod and lift your lips in a smile to let him know that you’re perfect. This is perfect.

Richie twirls you around gently as your friends belt out the chorus: Romeo take me somewhere we can be alone.

You swear someone replaced Romeo with Richie and you’re 95% it was the goofy man himself.

“Thank you for this, Romeo,” You whisper to your man, adoration oozing from your lips. You’re lost in his kind eyes as he leans in for a quick kiss.

“Anything for you, my Juliet.”

———

The night slips away slowly, sweetly.

You spend hours just dancing, talking, enjoying the company around you, snacking on whatever Carmy or Sydney or Marcus want you to try next. All around you are your favorite people just having fun and being together.

While The Bear won’t be debuting its new nightclub hours anytime soon, this one-night-only event sneaks its way into your core memories. It’s fun, and comfortable, and happy.

You realize at some point, lost in the music and the emotions just how lucky you are to get to do all of this with Richie.

It hits you suddenly and wholly that you are so, so in love with Richie Jerimovich.

It’s a love story, baby just say ‘yes.’

Tagging some friends just for fun! 🫶 @foreveraimingtowardsthesky @ankhmutes @thebearer @potato-with-hair

[thebearer]

wait syd and willow. carm low key didn’t give syd a chance to say yes, but willows in her little high chair watching her cook and explain how to cook it, and once she’s down baby willow baby claps

"Can you watch her? I'll be two seconds." Carmen ducks his head in, propping the carrier on the table, not waiting for Sydney's response.

"Chef, wait. I-I'm not-"

"-Thank you, Chef! I'll be right back!" Carmen shouts, bounding out of the empty kitchen.

Sydney blinked at the baby, the newest Berzatto. Of course Syd had been around Willow, thought she was cute and sweet, but it was always with you or Carmen around. Never alone. That was Tina's thing, maybe even Marcus', not Sydney's. She didn't know what to do with a baby, what to do if she started crying.

Thankfully, Willow seemed content, sucking on her pacifier and giving Sydney a wide eyed gaze back at her.

"Uh, hey, Willow." Sydney said, voice lilting just a tad in a cringe high octave. She shook her head, moving back to the prep, eyes flicking from the baby back to the onions.

Willow started to whimper, a huff of a whine that had Sydney's spine straightening. Fuck, where was Carmen? Or you?

"Hey, uh, no, no, no, don't cry." Sydney pleaded. Willow seemed to relax at her voice.

Sydney briefly recalled Carmen telling Tina and Richie that Willow really liked watching him cook. Liked when he explained the recipes to her, like she understood. That you'd tease him lightly, but she loved it.

Sydney took a deep breath in, lifting up the knife. Just talk to her like you would the chefs who shadowed.

"Um, so I'm prepping the vegetables." Sydney started, feeling a little awkward, a little silly. "We're doing the chaos menu tonight, and that has this lamb sirloin type thing, and we let it marinate in a stock." Sydney's eyes flashed to Willow, who watched her contently, eyes still bright and wide, focused on her.

"Hopefully it will be good, because sometimes I let it soak too long and Carmen- your dad, gets kinda mad. Not mad, I guess, more like frustrated? I dunno, lamb's difficult, ya know? Tender so you've got to be careful with it because it absorbs-"

Willow's tiny gurgle cut Sydney off. A happy giggle around her pacifier that turned to a coo, legs kicking out in excitement.

Sydney paused, grinning gently back at the baby. "Yeah, well, I mean, it is exciting. You're right. It's cool because we got the rainbow chard in, and I'm going to make this take on collard greens out of it to pair with it. I hope it pairs good. It did when I tried it the other day." Sydney smiled when Willow laughed, a baby cackle that had her laughing too.

"You like that? Well, you probably like hearing about it, but I don't think you'd like to eat it... Maybe? I dunno, do you eat foods like that or is it still like sweet potatoes and mashed peas?" Sydney hummed, cutting the onions quickly.

"She's gotten more adventurous, but still a few more weeks until she could have the chard." You hum from the doorway, beaming with the baby bag over your shoulder.

Sydney flushed in embarrassment. "Hey, I, uh, I just... Carmen put her in here, and-and she started crying so-"

You shook your head lightly, walking over to Willow's carrier. "She liked watching you cook. I swear, she's her Daddy's child. Looks just like him too. Like, how's that fair?" You snorted lightly, fingertip tracing down the slope of Willow's nose- Carmen's nose.

"Thanks for watching her, Syd." You smiled softly. "She likes you, ya know?"

"Oh, c'mon. I-I mean, she's super cool. Like very chill to cook with. Therapeutic." Sydney muttered, grinning at Willow gently.

"She is." You nod. "Can you believe her and Teddy are related?" You snort lightly.

Sydney laughs, shaking her head. Teddy was not allowed in the kitchen, not since she snatched Carmen's knife and chased Richie. Truthfully, Sydney was rooting for her and thought the timeout Carmen gave her was unfair.

"No, I mean... they're both good kids, ya know?" Sydney shrugged lightly.

"Yeah, they are." You hum lovingly, cooing gently down at Willow. "I'll take her to Carm's office, but thank you-"

"-Oh, you know, you can just leave her here with me if you want." Sydney offered. Your brows shot up in surprise, and truthfully, Sydney was surprised herself. "I mean, if you have something to do. I know you've gotta place the orders and stuff, so I can watch her while you do that."

"Are you sure?" You asked carefully.

"Yeah, no problem. I was just explaining lamb." Sydney joked. "It's kinda therapeutic, really."

"Told you." Carmen quipped, holding Teddy upside down, dodging her kicking feet and shrills. "Helps you work through recipes. Wills' gonna have a Michelin star by nine, just you wait."

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head at him. "Don't get her crazy, Berzatto. You're gonna deal with her." You glared at him, blushing at the grin he gave you, pressing a kiss to Teddy's cheek while she squirmed and giggled loudly.

You rolled your eyes lightly, thumb running over Willow's soft cheek. "I'll be in the office if you need me, alright? Thank you."

"No problem." Sydney smiled softly, watching you shut the door to the office muffling Teddy's screech. Sydney looked back over at Willow, putting the freshly chopped prep into the container. "Anyways, so now we gotta get the marinate going with the stock...."

[aestheticaltcow]

The Social Media Manager: The Series (Part 3)

Another installment with a smidge of angst. Six Months Carmy is just very present in my brain...

The Bear Masterlist

Previous part Next part

Drinks?

Marcus laughed when Carmy walked into the kitchen with Sharpie covering his wrist and forearm. He’d known that Rusty thought Carmy was cute and that Carmy was stalking her on Instagram, but he didn’t think that Rusty would make the first move. Carmy walked past Marcus into the office and swiftly closed the door behind himself. Marcus shook his head and went to Syd’s station, “Yo. Hear me out, Rusty and Carmy. She’s into him, he’s into her… imma make it happen.” before Marcus could further explain his scheme on getting Rusty and Carmy together, Syd laughter cut him off. 

“Marcus, you shouldn’t do anything- do you really want your best friend hooking up with Carmy? You saw how he treated Claire. Do you want that for Rusty?” she challenged Marcus, “I like Rusty, and I want to be friends with her- if she and Carmy start dating and Carmy bitches out on her, I can’t be friends with her.” 

Before Marcus could respond, Syd further explained, “Marcus, do you really want your best friend to date your boss? Imagine you go over to Rusty’s place—Carmy's there. You ask her to hang out, and Carmy comes. Oh, you wanna go on a double date with her; Carmy would be there. You can’t complain to your best friend about Carmy anymore because that’s her boyfriend. What if Rusty breaks up with him? Would Carmy take it out on you? Maybe not intentionally, but we both know he would.”

Marcus sighed and crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned back against the wall, “I think he’d be good for Rusty.”

~

You groaned as you dug through her closet that night. Tonight was supposed to just be a chill night out, but you had to mess it up by inviting Carmy. You finally found the white tank top you’d been looking for. You pulled your oversized shirt off and threw it onto your bed before pulling the tank top on; you adjusted your boobs and were satisfied with the way they looked. Now you just had to find the right bottoms. Would jeans be too casual? Would a skirt be too much? Maybe shorts? You huffed in frustration and pushed through your drawers looking for the right bottoms. 

After meticulously applying your makeup and ensuring your hair was neatly styled, you were satisfied with your appearance for the night. “Rusty! You ready?” you heard your friend Sara yell as she walked into your apartment. “As ready as I’ll ever be.” you laughed as you joined her in the living room. 

“This Carmy guy has a chokehold on you, huh?” Sara laughed as she looked you up and down. You shrugged and grabbed your jean jacket from the back of the couch. “I don’t think he’s coming, but just in case…” you explained as Sara rolled her eyes and went on a rant about how there were never cute guys at The White Rabbit. You nodded occasionally as the two of you waited for your Uber.

Your phone vibrated in your pocket to display a text from Carmy.

See you @ 11

~

Marcus looked over his shoulder to see Carmy meticulously scrubbing his station. It was almost 11 PM, and he knew that Carmy had agreed to meet Rusty at some bar. He should have left by now, so why was he still at The Bear.

“Yo Carm. Thought you were meeting up with Rusty.” Marcus said, pulling at the sides of his apron awkwardly. Carmy shook his head, “Yeah- uh, not doing that.” he said as he dragged a dry microfiber towel across the stainless steel counter he’d been scrubbing. 

“Did you tell her that?” Carmy ignored the question and went into the office. Marcus huffed as his face scrunched up; he couldn’t let this douchebag hurt his best friend. “Marcus. Don’t do somethin’ stupid.” Tina warned from her station when she noticed his shoulders square up. Marcus shook his head and went into the office. Carmy sat at the desk going through papers; Marcus couldn’t help but notice his phone was next to him, lighting up with text messages from Rusty. Marcus frowned, “Are you seriously gonna ignore my best friend? She’s fuckin’ gorgeous and funny and kind and too fuckin’ good for you! Don’t treat her like how you treated Claire. Rusty isn’t the kind of girl who begs men to like her. Men beg her to like them, and for whatever reason, she likes you. I don’t care if you’re my boss- I’ll kick your fuckin’ ass.”

Carmy stared at him and ran his tongue across his top lip; he shook his head and went back to his paperwork. “Carmen. Don’t fuck this up. Y/N means everything to me.” Marcus sighed before exiting the office.

[katelynnwrites]

Girl Put Your Records On (Tell Me Your Favourite Song) | Sydney Lohmann

warnings: syd’s injury 😔

word count: 2077

summary: requested, domestic fluff with sydney

a/n: syd’s back! syd’s back! syd’s back!

It’s no secret that Sydney loves cooking. She has even said that if she wasn’t playing football professionally, she would be a chef.

And maybe you’re a little biased as her girlfriend and frequent beneficiary of her cooking but you are sure that she would have made an amazing one.

The German woman cooks a large variety of things and she is always down to experiment but her favourite is pasta.

Sydney’s homemade pasta is one of your favourite things to eat and you would even go so far as to call it your comfort food.

Your girlfriend makes the entire dish from scratch and you swear you can feel the love and care she puts into it.

The extent of your fondness for it and for any of Syd’s cooking really, is well known. There has been more than one occasion where your fellow Bayern teammates have teased you that you’re only with Sydney for her skills in the kitchen.

That couldn’t be further from the truth though.

You love everything about your girlfriend, from her every perfection down to her littlest flaw.

If it were up to you, you would say that a certain Sydney Matilda Lohmann is complete perfection.

There is so much you adore about her and that includes each moment that you spend with her.

Making pasta together with your girl is one of your favourite moments.

You and your girlfriend frequently have teammates over for meals. Sydney’s cooking tends to have that effect on people and while making pasta with friends is nice, you love making pasta with Syd much more.

When it is just you and her, the Bayern Munich midfielder putting her vintage record player on to as she put it, set the vibe.

Your girlfriend spins you around the kitchen when any of her favourite records come on and you’d ask her, her favourite song in between fits of laughter.

Sydney’s favourite song changes all the time based on how she’s been feeling so you like to ask her what it is. It gives you an idea of her current mood and state of mind.

Her hazel eyes are always bright when she answers you and you cherish all of her answers and the way she looks as she gives them.

More often than not, she has flour on her clothes and hair. She leaves streaks of it behind on you, a visible reminder of her hands on your body.

You love these smudges of white, left on your hips, shoulders and stomach, sometimes on your cheek if Sydney’s feeling mischievous enough to swipe her flour covered finger across your cheek.

It’s especially heartwarming after tough games and it goes like this.

Sydney makes her pasta dough and you hand her the ingredients in the right order, reading out the recipe from one of her cookbooks. Her scribbled handwriting in the margins of said cookbooks mark them as hers.

You continue leafing through the recipes, giggling at some of the notes and comments she has left while your girlfriend wraps the dough up before putting it to chill in the fridge.

The German woman then proceeds to make the sauce, tomato or cream based, depending on her mood.

She lets it simmer over the stove and it always smells so damn good. Syd stirs it and lets you taste test it as she cooks. The Bayern player feeds you those spoonfuls of little tastes with anxious smiles and hopeful looks, always waiting for your feedback.

You don’t know what she’s worried about because her pasta sauce is constantly amazing.

It gives you great joy to watch her face light up whenever you tell her so.

Sitting on the kitchen counter, most of the time in Syd’s clothes as you swing your legs back and forth, you fall even more head over heels in love with her.

You love watching her hum along to the song playing as she does little dance moves whenever inspiration strikes her.

Every now and then, she turns around to check on you and you have no shame in showing her just how captivated you are.

You’re starstruck because of her.

The way you look at her makes her blush and your girlfriend often ducks her head, looking back down at her pot of sauce to hide it. It really is cute of her.

When the sauce is done, Sydney washes her hands before pulling you off the kitchen counter. The German woman always takes the opportunity to kindly suggest that she can help pass the remaining time more quickly.

And you always take her up on it because who would say no to what she has in mind?

Making out with your girlfriend is like something out of a dream. With her lips on yours and whispered sighs, her hands skimming your bare skin, well you’re in love with the feeling and her.

The last minutes of chilling time for the pasta dough go by fast and then Sydney is waltzing you back into the kitchen.

You stand beside her, the only place you ever want to be, even if you are given the whole world to choose from and roll out the pasta dough with her.

The both of you take turns to run the pasta wheel over the rolled sheets and Syd never fails to make fun of you for how much neater hers turns out.

It is quick work after that, for the meal to be ready.

You set the plates out and your girlfriend finishes off her dish.

It is almost sacred to be able to curl up with the hazel eyed woman, with whatever show the two of you are binge watching playing on the television while you eat together.

Moments like that give you the much needed break from football. It’s lovely to be able to chase a dream you’ve had since you were a little girl but it’s also lovely for you to be able to spend time with your girlfriend.

Since Syd cooked, you pick up the plates and take them to the kitchen to wash.

It is everything to you, to be able to share this domestic bliss with Sydney.

******

Now that she is injured, things have to change.

Not by much but rather, a simple reversal of roles.

You make the pasta and let your girlfriend taste the sauce. The German player directs you from your usual perch atop the kitchen counter.

As much as she insists that she wants to help, you simply shake your head, giving her a firm no.

You just want her to rest her ankle.

The injury had been a devastating blow to your girl who had been so excited to start the season. Prior to the injury, her form had been brilliant and she’d just come off a solid win against Iceland.

Your girlfriend was just getting back the sparkle in her eyes every time she steps onto the pitch. It had been missing since Germany’s exit from the World Cup and now you feared it would be a while more before you saw it in its full beauty.

You hate how injury prone Sydney is, hate the way the world is so unkind to her. Her bad luck has it that she is always getting into a really good flow right before it is cut short. Fate is cruel sometimes.

There’s nothing you can do about that but you can make her dinner. It is the least you can do for the hazel eyed woman you are so in love with.

You’ve only finished simmering the pasta sauce and turned off the stove for a moment before Sydney is making grabby hands at you.

It’s tomato tonight because that is what the midfielder had been wanting.

You laugh at her gestures and scoop out a spoonful of sauce as she’d asked.

Carefully, you feed it to her but not before you make a show of blowing on it, to cool it down.

‘Good?’ You ask, taking a step back expectantly.

‘It’s really good.’ Your girl replies.

‘Yeah? Why do you sound so surprised?’ You tease.

‘I’m not! I-’ Sydney backtracks defensively, her eyes widening rapidly.

It’s adorable how easy it is to fluster her.

‘I’m just kidding sonnenschein.’ You admit and she scowls, crossing her arms and huffing, ‘I knew that.’

‘You sure?’ You mock and the taller woman deigns to reply you by dramatically rolling her eyes.

‘I’m sure. I am also sure that your tomato sauce isn’t as good as mine though.’

‘I know. Yours will always be better.’ You shrug easily, stepping back in between Syd’s legs and planting a gentle kiss onto her lips.

Your girlfriend chuckles and your heart lightens.

******

Eating dinner with the German player sitting next to you has your heart fluttering in all kinds of good ways.

You are never going to stop cherishing these moments with her.

Syd notices you staring at her and she blushes, mumbling, ‘Why are you looking at me like that?’

‘Because you are so incredibly beautiful and I love you.’

It is a simple, effortless confession but your girlfriend’s face lights up.

‘I love you too.’

She sets her plate down on the coffee table and smiles, ‘I fall more and more in love with you with each and every day that I spend with you.’

Sydney’s words give you the warmest of feelings inside and when she smoothly straddles you, despite the walking boot she has on, you know the feeling is mutual.

‘Syd…’ You groan, torn between wanting to make sure she is being cautious about her injury and wanting her to kiss you.

‘I’m being careful.’ She insists before leaning down to connect her lips to yours.

She tastes like tomato sauce and cheese but you don’t care because it’s Sydney.

Sydney who is the living definition of sunshine. Sydney who for reasons you can’t fathom is as in love with you as you are with her.

You have a lot of reasons to be thankful but your girlfriend is the biggest one.

******

It’s with kiss swollen lips and messy hair that you take yours and Syd’s dinner plates into the kitchen.

Your girlfriend trails behind you with her crutches, her lips and hair in a similar state.

There is no mistaking the satisfied smirk on her face though.

‘Here.’ You breathe, lifting her up onto the kitchen counter after depositing both your plates into the sink. Her crutches are propped next to her.

Sydney wiggles comically as she gets comfortable and you giggle.

You put her record player on and start on the dirty dishes.

‘Let me help please?’ The hazel eyed woman implores.

You’re going to refuse and assure her that you manage but remember how helpless the rehab has been making her feel despite her best attempts to hide it.

Ever selfless, you know that Syd would never do anything she deems might harm the team dynamic, even if it really wouldn’t.

You want to spoil her but know that that is not what she needs right now.

So as a compromise, you offer her a dish towel and ask, ‘You can dry if you like?’

The Bayern midfielder gratefully takes the towel from you. She knows you know and the soft look of adoration in her gorgeous hazel eyes makes you melt.

It’s quick work, made enjoyable by the music playing and Syd’s humming along.

******

Normally you brush your teeth together and your girl links her little finger with yours but now you support her with an arm gently wrapped around her waist.

Syd has taken her walking boot off for the night so she needs to be careful not to put any sort of weight on her injured ankle.

Before she’d taken it off though, she had affectionately touched the yellow smiley face sticker you had put on it.

She hopes you know how much you and all your little gestures mean to her.

Her injury is hurting her but you make it all bearable.

So she leans into you and soaks in your touch, giggling through the toothpaste foam in her mouth.

Your gaze meets hers and you know that you want this to last the rest of your life.

With the way Syd whispers about how much she loves you as she settles down to sleep with her head on your chest, you know in your heart that she wants the same.

German Translation:

sonnenschein - sunshine

[puppietooth]

let me preface this by saying i will love and adore and cherish s3 no matter happens. however, i will say — the one thing i want to see is carmy going out of his way to get back on sydney’s good side.

i’m talking begging for forgiveness, grovelling at her feet, bending over backwards for her.

imagine:

carmy gets out of that walk-in, sees the queasy look on her face, and is already drafting that notes app apology in his head. he tells her he’s sorry and that he fucked up and she tells him they managed to pull everything off without him but she cannot with his bullshit right now.

that hits him like a punch to the gut and, well, he gets it cause it’s definitely deserved.

but as the weeks go on, carmy tries to talk to her she only responds in shrugs, nods, and yes chefs. sydney goes home straight after service, after she helps with clean up, does not linger and talk in the office with him like they did before. carmy tries joking with her and she rolls her eyes more often than not. he asks her if she wants to work on the menu with him and she says no and he gets the feeling that she doesn’t even want to be alone with him anymore.

and that’s when he realizes — fuck. she’s so mad at him.

my girl is mad at me i want to die.

so? what else is carmy supposed to do but the most?

sydney comes in one morning and tells tina she was running late so she couldn’t stop by her favourite spot to get her morning latte. carmy overhears this and takes it upon himself to run to that spot, ten blocks over, to get her that latte. and when he gets back, sweetly and breathless, he gives it to her only to find out it’s the completely wrong order. but syd smiles, just a little, says a small thanks.

during family, he casually hints at the fact that he’s seeing a therapist now — says sorry chef i have therapy saturday afternoon when marcus asks if anyone would be down to go to the farmers market with him. because he needs her to know that he’s trying to get better. for himself, yes, but also for her.

his notifications are on and his phone is never on silent anymore — carmy vows to never miss a text or a call from her ever again.

carmy starts checking in with her about everything. when the walls need to be painted again he tells her, asks sydney if she’s okay with changing the floral arrangements but the bar, lets her know he’s ordering new aprons for the line cooks, runs tweets by her before posting them to the bear’s twitter account. and it gets to the point where syd has to tell him to chill — that she appreciates him not wanting to keep her in the dark, but some things just don’t need her approval. pats him on the shoulder and tells him it’s his restaurant, too.

it might come off as a bit showy but he tells her great work today, chef sydney after every service — because she is doing great work.

when sydney’s finally moving out of her dad’s place carmy is there, bright and early, moving her boxes into his car, trying to avoid the subtle stink eye her dad is giving him. again, deserved. he drives her out to her new place, helps her set everything up and lingers when she asks him if he wants coffee.

carmy shows up for her, everytime. he sets his own priorities aside, swaps them out for hers. sydney says jump and he asks how high?

it all comes to head on her birthday. before service he goes up to her and gives her a present — a scarf, fabric pink and decorated with prints of various different flowers. it’s soft and silky and he saw it on a mannequin in a window front while he was downtown a couple of weeks ago, immediately thought of her. she tells him it’s lovely and beautiful and she’ll wear it all the time but that he really didn’t have to — that he doesn’t have to keep trying to win her over, that she isn’t mad at him anymore, that she hasn’t been mad for a few weeks now, that she can see he’s trying.

then, sydney hugs him, strong and gentle at the same time, tells him — i see you, carmy.

whatever is supposed to happen after that does not happen because fak starts yelling about an exploding toilet from the room over so sydney scoffs and says she’ll go take care of it.

and it’s at that exact moment that carmy becomes aware of what he hasn’t been aware of but that has been there, right in front of him this whole time.

holy shit.

he likes sydney.

he likes her a lot.

[nolita-fairytale]

don't want to walk alone | carmen 'carmy' berzatto x fem!reader | chapter one: june/july

summary: you and carmy plan a wedding like it's the opening of a new restaurant.

warnings: swearing, eventual smut, lots of tooth rotting fluff, marriage, no use of y/n, second person pov

wc: 3.4k

listen to: let's get married (bleachers cover) - mitski

a/n: the long awaited wedding FIC!! welcome to part four of the 'make my heart surrender' universe (four part series). this takes place a month after the end of 'still into you' but before the carmy as your baby daddy headcanon series (my carmy masterlist is organized chronologically, if you'd like to read in order). anyways, i truly adore writing for these two and feel it important to note that after watching season 2, i've realized this has just become an animal of its own -- its own universe/timeline/entity which also means there AREN'T any SEASON TWO SPOILERS! this chapter was inspired by a conversation from two months ago between me and @carmensberzattos so courtesy of us, enjoy some healthy relationship-future husband!carmy. also don't worry syd will be starring in the next chapter. i missed her too. lmk if you wanna be added or removed from the taglist.

masterlist | part two

"let's just get married, don't wanna walk alone, so let's get married, 'cause we don't wanna walk alone or runaway." (bleachers, let's get married.)

'I just want to be married to you' are the words uttered (first by you, you think, but maybe he said it first, you really can’t remember) that lead you and Carmy to the decision that you should elope. Sooner rather than later, preferably, is what you both agree on. It’s not like you’re planning on having a big wedding anyways. How much work can a civil ceremony at City Hall and a nice dinner party afterwards be to pull off?

Famous last words. 

You’re not sure how you’ve gotten from there to here, locked in a heated debate over menu edits with your fiance in the middle of your shared apartment when the sun’s just barely come up, but here you are.

“I’m just saying that we should be open minded and leave room for his artistic integrity!” Carmy passionately argues, winding you up as he makes his case. 

“Artistic integrity? Carmy, are you kidding me right now? I-!” you fire back, shaking your head incredulously. “We said we were gonna keep everything chill.”

“It is chill!” he defends, matter-of-factly.

Oh, he’s just looking for a fight.

“There is nothing chill about a parm espuma and it certainly doesn’t belong anywhere near the carbonara!” you scoff, stubbornly. “I mean, the only reason he even brought up the idea of a goddamn espuma in the first place is because he was trying to impress you.”

Carmy’s jaw twitches in response as he grinds his teeth, a display of discomfort at the mere thought.

“He-he was not,” he denies with the kind of conviction of a five year old toddler who's sure as can be.

You shoot him a look. 

“Carmen,” you warn him. 

Sure it’s a silly thing to fight about, but there’s no malice in this argument. It’s all passion, artistry, and for lack of a better term, foreplay. You let out a sigh, softening before you rise out of your chair. 

“Baby, when are you going to admit that you’re kind of a big deal and that people want to impress you?” you level with him, making your way over to your very stubborn and very insistent fiance. You settle down onto his lap, before tucking a stray curl behind his ear as you break, giving the sweetest smile.

He laughs dryly, averting his eyes from you because he’s not sure how much longer he’ll be able to stand his ground (especially when you’re looking at him like that). 

You’re right. And he knows you’re right. 

And Carmy’s never been able to resist you for long anyways. 

A fox-like grin spreads across your lips and you know you’ve won the argument when you feel a pair of hands snake around your waist. 

“Don’t push it,” he warns you, seeing the look on your face as he shakes his head, finally returning his eyes to yours. 

You raise an eyebrow, “You like that I push.” 

He nods slowly in surrender, his face softening as he asks you:

“You really want to fight about this?” 

You shake your head with a laugh. 

“No, of course not! Of course, I don’t want to fight about this!” you exhale, sliding your hands over his shoulders to wrap around his neck. “But I do think that your new buddy is trying to impress us and that it may be wise for us to reign him in – clear the air on what it is we’re looking for.” 

A beat. 

“Don’t get me wrong. Of course, we can leave room for creativity… but I don’t want our wedding party to turn into some pretentious fine dining fancy party.”

“Well, we did meet because of some pretentious fine dining fancy thing,” he points out, giving your hip a squeeze. 

You giggle, “How could I forget?”

You shake your head once more, leaning in to press your lips against his. Carmy inhales deeply, enjoying the feel of your lips on his, your arms wrapped around his neck, the weight of your body on his lap. 

You indulge him for a moment, deepening the kiss as you feel your future husband relax against you, because you really are happy that Carmy’s made a new friend. 

Carmy had met a private chef a few months ago and had been trying to hire him for the restaurant for a while now. Wanting to work for himself, the chef had respectfully declined all advances, but he and Carmy had kept in touch, and it looked as if the relationship could potentially extend outside of the four walls of a kitchen. Since you both agreed that no one from the restaurant should work the party, it had been good timing (making a new friend and the fact that he was a private chef) and the right move for Carmy to ask his new friend to cater the wedding.

“Fine,” you resign yourself, pulling away from the kiss. “Derek can keep the liquid nitrogen but that is as far as it goes.”

Carmy shoots you a look – one that says he’s not quite convinced. 

“And I will be more open minded in the spirit of… artistic integrity. But I’m not changing my mind about courses. Family style or bust, baby,” you negotiate, a serious look in your eyes. 

Carmy thinks it over for a moment before finally coming to a resolution. 

“Deal,” Carmy nods with the same intensity as a ‘yes, chef.’

You nod too, completing the agreement. 

“I want it to be real, Carm. I want it to be us,” you reiterate, your voice soft as you make your condition loud and clear. 

“I know,” he returns, just as determined and committed to the idea as he is to you. 

You’re satisfied with the resolution – even more satisfied with the fact that you’ve come to it together. 

“You know…” he starts, something in his voice that you can’t quite make out, unsure if you’re going to like what’s about to come out of his mouth. “... it could be a perfect menu if you just let me-.”

“Don’t even finish that sentence, Carmen!” you interrupt, knowing exactly what he was going to say. 

You are so not playing this game today.

“You don’t even know what I was-!”

“Yes, I do! You are not catering your own wedding party,” you protest, adamantly.  

You know him too well. 

He laughs, shaking his head as he leans back against his chair, like he’s in high school again, and you’ve just caught him sneaking back into the house. 

“God, I love you! But sometimes you drive me up the wall, Carm,” you groan out of frustration, eliciting another laugh from his chest as you hang your head, resting your forehead against his shoulder this time.

“Such a control freak,” you sigh, against his chest. 

“Thought you like it when I take control,” he murmurs, beginning to leave kisses across your exposed skin. 

You giggle partially because it tickles, and mostly because of what Carmy’s said. 

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

You lift your head and Carmy kisses you again, this time savoring the way your lips feel against his for a little while longer – just long enough to remind himself that he wants to have the option to sneak away in the middle of your wedding party to have sex much more than he wants cater to be in control all the time. 

Sometimes, he thinks to himself, control is overrated anyways. 

Only sometimes.

“Okay, okay,” he mutters, letting go of the idea. “I’ll get back to Derek about final menu edits and make sure he knows that while we want him to be creative, we also want to keep it… you know….”

“Chill?” you emphasize. 

“Chill,” he confirms.

“Okay. Thank you, baby,” you smile softly, trying your best to enjoy the temporary moment of peace between the two of you. Carm squeezes your hip as you roll your eyes with a sigh, muttering an:

“Oh fuck.” 

“What’s up?”

You shake your head again, laughing incredulously before letting out another sigh. 

“Just wait till we go through this again with the cake.”

“Fuck!” Carmy shouts towards the ceiling, throwing his head back as you laugh. “Why did we say we wanted to plan a wedding again?”

“Well baby, I don’t think either of us can pass up on a chance to create a menu,” you giggle, leaving a few kisses along his jawline before you make your way up to his nose. “Can you imagine if we decided to have a full-on wedding? That’d be a freaking mess.”

He chuckles, “It’d be like opening another restaurant.”

“Yeah, pass,” you hum, so glad to have dodged that bullet.

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

By the time you and Carmy are even ready to focus on the cake portion of said wedding-dinner-party it’s a month later. You’ve been through half of the bakeries in the city, you think, and something’s just felt off. You’re practically eating your words, as it dawns on you that you’re having the exact same thought as Carmy: that it could just be perfect if you were able to make it yourself. 

Then again, you remind yourself that a cake is an entirely different thing versus running a dinner service, so it can’t be that unhinged to have these thoughts, right?

But you and Carmy made an agreement, so in solidarity, you decide it’s only fair for you to make like Tammy Wynette and stand by your man. 

You’re grateful for the half day you have today (“Summer Fridays”, as it’s so fondly referred to around your office) – and the fact that you get to work from home. What it means for you is that today you can clock out early and pick up samples from the tenth bakery (okay, so maybe it’s the eleventh but truthfully, you’ve lost count) in the running for your wedding cake. 

You change out of your pajamas for the first time today, throwing on a slip dress and one of Carmy’s crisp, white Ralph Lauren button downs – worn layered and open like a cardigan – before you head to the bakery, and then eventually, The Bear.

The restaurant is closed for the afternoon, as they do a shift change over: some stay and take a break, others go home, let the dinner crew come in and take over. It’s different these days and while some days you miss it – the hustle and bustle of the kitchen, the sounds of an ‘all day’ shouted by the expeditor, the careful dance that is working in a kitchen – you remind yourself that you’re enjoying a half day, and that when you’d chosen to leave, you were ready for a change. 

After entering The Bear, you make small talk with Gary while he finishes turning over the dining room for dinner, catching up over the flag football league he’s recently joined – one, it seems, to be taken very seriously by all participants. You tell him that you’re here with wedding cake samples, and he’s more than eager to give you some space to set up, because who doesn’t love free cake? Mid-sentence, Gary gestures towards a table for you to set up on, as you begin to unpack your large brown paper bag. 

“Well, well. Look who it is,” Marcus calls out, as soon as he sees you. “Heard a rumor you were out here. You brought cake?”

“I brought cake,” you repeat as confirmation, turning to see your dear friend and mentee. “But don’t worry. I’ll be thinking about yours the whole time.”

He snickers, moving in for a hug. 

“‘S Good to see you, Chef. How ya been?” he asks, enveloping you in his arms for a tight squeeze. 

“Good to see you too, Marcus. I’m good. Had a half day today so… you know, we’ve just been busy with wedding stuff. But what’s going on with you? What’s new?” you answer, turning the focus back onto him. 

“Oh you know. The usual. Though, I’ve been workin’ on some new shit for Syd’s new menu when I’m not here,” he answers, a broad smile spreading across his lips as he talks about. 

“Jeez, Brooks. I know, Carm’s got ya busy. When the hell do you ever sleep?” you ask, as you shake your head. 

“I don’t,” he answers plainly. 

And just as you’re about to remind Marcus to get some rest, Sugar comes bursting through the front doors, her rounded belly full on display now that she’s had a chance to tell almost everyone the news of her pregnancy. 

“Hey! Sorry I’m running late,” Sugar says, announcing her arrival. “Got tied up running an errand and then I had to stop at the store for Tums. This baby is killing me with the heartburn these days. Fucking christ.” 

“Oh, no big deal. I haven’t even seen Carmy yet,” you shrug, as she mutters a surprised ‘oh’ and Marcus mumbles something about going to get Carmy. “It’s good to see you!”

“Yo, Carm!” Marcus shouts, heading back to the kitchen while you and Sugar exchange hellos. 

“Awww, it’s good to see you too, sweetie,” she smiles, pulling you in for your second hug of the day. 

This is something you miss about working in the kitchen: the camaraderie, the found-family, all the love. 

“Wow this is… quite the spread,” Sugar mentions, eyeing the cakes you’ve laid out on the table.

“Yeah… they had a lot of ideas, I guess,” you say with a shrug. 

Sugar shoots you an unconvinced look. 

“Okay, fine.  I had a lot of ideas…” you admit guiltily. 

“...aaaand no one is going to do it the way you want it to be done,” Sugar sighs in the middle of your sentence. 

“And they were more than willing to play. I couldn’t help myself!” you finish, defending yourself. 

“Well, your enthusiasm is one of the many things I love about you, but… yeah, this is a lot,” Sugar grins as she gestures towards the overwhelming amount of cake you’ve just laid out on the table. 

Regardless, Sugar really can’t wait to be your sister-in-law. 

“Speaking of… I thought this was just a small wedding. It looks like you’re preparing to feed the entire French Army during Marie Antoinette’s reign.”

“Oh it still is – small,” you answer, simply. “I went a little overboard, didn’t I?”

“Why go through all this trouble? You might as well have a small ceremony instead of-,”

“No!” you protest, hearing another voice say the same thing. 

“Sugar, we’ve already told you that we don’t want to do anything big!” Carmy adds, as soon as he enters the dining room. 

“Hey, babe,” he says, sending you the softest smile as he looks your way.

“Hey you,” you smile in return as he approaches you, giving him a short ‘hello’ peck on the lips. 

“Fak attack!” Fak cries out, as he enters the dining room. “Ooooh cake tasting!”

“Yeah,” you chuckle, as Fak is quickly followed by some of the line cooks that have just wrapped up lunch service. 

It’s then that you hear Tina’s voice, growling something in Spanish as Richie speaks way too loudly about god knows what, as Ebra follows behind, somehow in the middle of a story that has little to do with whatever Tina and Richie are going on about. 

You smile to yourself, because you really do miss this part. 

“I told everyone we were doing a cake tasting,” Carmy starts, gesturing towards the rest of the staff as they join you. “That cool?”

“Totally. We have more than enough to share,”

“That’s true,” Sugar says. "And I can't complain because the baby is reeeeaaally craving cake these days."

As everyone at The Bear crowd around the circular dining table where you set up the cake tasting, you all enjoy bites here and there, comparing notes, sharing reactions to each flavor combo. 

Earl grey & lemon. A classic red velvet. And of course, you had to get a little weird with the black sesame clementine combination you’d dreamed up with the pastry chef you’d been working with. 

“I think my favorite is the black sesame and clementine but I doubt it’s a cake everyone will like. Doesn’t have the crowd appeal we probably should keep in mind,” you murmur to Carmy as the two of you watch his staff go on about the tiramisu-inspired one. 

“Well, babe, it’s our wedding! We can do whatever we want,” he encourages you. 

“I don’t know,” you sigh, paralyzed with indecision. 

“The tiramisu one is good. I’m leaning towards that,” Carmy shares with you, eager to hear your thoughts. 

“Yeah, I don’t know. Don’t you think it’s a little too on the nose?” you reply, unsettled and unsure that any of these are right. 

“Why don’t you guys just let me make it?” Marcus interjects, asking the question he’s been wondering this entire time. 

“I-,” you start, unable to help the fact that your eyes begin to wet with emotion. “Really?” 

He laughs, glancing sideways at you. 

“Uh yeah. I’m a little offended neither of you did in the first place,” Marcus teases the two of you, though you know there’s some truth to it. 

You and Carmy exchange a look that says something along the lines of: ‘oh shit.’

“Well, we didn’t think you’d-,” you stammer, beginning to explain the why behind you and Carmy’s hesitation in the first place.

“We just thought you’d want to- that you should be able to enjoy the party,” Carmy adds, finishing your sentence, his eyes widening as he realizes that you both kinda fucked up. 

“Chefs,” he says, looking from you to Carmy once more, with a seriousness in his voice as he rises to his feet. “It would be my honor. And just because I’m makin’ the cake doesn’t mean I won’t be able to enjoy the party. I can do it in the days leading up to it.”

“Oh-, okay, yes! Yes!” you cry, leaping to your feet this time, as if you’re accepting Carmy’s proposal again. 

Richie rolls his eyes in response, groaning as he mutters something snarky to Fak, as Marcus pulls you into the biggest bear hug. 

“You all are a bunch of saps,” he scoffs, directing this next comment to Marcus this time. “You big softie!”

“Richie!” Sugar hisses, glaring the sharpest daggers from her eyeballs into Richie’s skull. 

“Oh fuck off, Richie,” you snort, with a laugh. “You’re just salty because… wait. Carm, you haven’t asked him yet?”

“Babe, I-,” Carmy whines, his eyes wide. “You just ruined the surprise!”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah ‘fuck’ is right,” he pouts, though he can never stay upset with you for too long. 

“What the fuck are you guys even talking about?” Richie asks, squinting as he looks between the two of you. 

You and Carmy share a knowing look, deciding that now is a better time as ever. 

“We want you to be our witness, Cousin. At the courthouse,” Carmy says, a soft intensity in his eyes as he answers Richie’s question.

“Jesus Christ,” Sugar snarks, with an eye roll as she realizes she’ll be stuck with him at the damn courthouse as well.

“Wh-?” Richie begins to ask, looking from Carmy to you, then back to Carmy again, tears welling up in his eyes as he realizes what Carmy’s just said. “You-? Really?”

“Yeah, of course,” you reply, in a well-duh kind of tone. “Plus you know I can’t get married without my Ava there.”

“And sign the marriage license and everything?” Richie balks, because he really can’t believe it. 

“Yeah,” you reassure him. 

“Yeah. I mean, fuck yeah! Fuck yeah!” Richie declares, even more sentimental than Marcus this time. “Shit, Cuz… Hell yeah, I’ll sign the fuck out of that marriage license as your witness.”

Tina snickers, exchanging a look with Sugar, and earning a glare from Richie. He lowers his voice, directing the question towards you this time: 

“Oh and uh… cool if Ava still sings “Love Story?” I kinda promised her she could sing a Taylor Swift song as part of my best man speech and she insists that one is about you and Carmy,” Richie asks, looking around suspiciously, afraid of someone else hearing. 

“Awwww, Richie. Of course,” you coo, only melting inside a little at the thought.

“What?” Richie snaps, realizing that he hasn’t been as discreet as he thought he was. 

Sugar snorts in response, earning a laugh from both Tina and Marcus. 

It’s Marcus’ turn to roll his eyes at Richie this time. 

“What?” Richie repeats, this time with a little more annoyance in his voice. 

Sugar smirks, firing back with a:

“Who’s the big softie now, Rick?”

[yannaryartside]

My most blood chilling thought regarding sydcarmy is this

From Sydney’s point of view this has been nothing but a desolation game.

Carmy has left her to her own devices to handle his shit the whole show . While he is outside chasing other stuff in s1, another ass in s2, and goes s3 screaming to everyone while thinking about another ass.

And that is the part that it pains me. She knows. She knows he is been thinking about calling Claire. Everyone in “Next” created the correlation between the breakup and Carmy’s decent into madness. She has witnessed him talking about how Claire is in his mind “are you giving me shit for not calling people back?” To the computer.

If Carmy makes the attempt to apologize to Claire next season, even if they don’t get together right away, Syd has no reason to think Claire may not me still Carmy’s endgame. Carmy and Syd have no real friends underneath at this point. Maybe, she will realize that she should cut her loses.

And even if Carmy realizes his feelings for Syd…even if he tells her. She may be to tired of being the second choice after enduring all that she did. And I won’t blame her.

If you have seen the most recent “little woman” think of this scene, spoilers ahead.

There needs to be time, time where they work together and become friends after an ultimate breakup with Claire. Syd has literally no reason to say yes.

[timeforsomethrillingheroicsblog]

Syd/Richie Fic Recs

WIPS

Corner - Syd and Richie get sent on a roadtrip to pick up a new stove for The Bear, but they might get more than they bargained for along the way (Chapters: 3/?. Characters: Sydney Adamu, Richie Jerimovich, Carmen Berzatto, Neil Fak, Natalie Berzatto, Original Male Characters. Word Count: 8,510)

Loser Bitch (All The Way Down To The Bones) - Loster. N. A person or thing that loses or has lost something, especially a game or contest. (Chapters 2/3. Characters: Sydney Adamu, Richie Jerimovich, Carmen Berzatto, Marcus, Tina, Angel, Gary Woods, Natalie Berzatto, Eva Jerimovich, Emmanuel Adamu. Word Count: 7,623)

MULTI-CHAPTERED WORKS

In a New Light - Syd likes Richie a lot more than she initially thought she did. The only problem is that she isn't sure they're capable of liking each other without drawing blood. (Chapters: 5. Characters: Carmen Berzatto, Richie Jerimovich, Sydney Adamu. Word Count: 24,871)

SERIES

It Happened One Night - Sydney learned a long time ago to take her anger out on something she can’t hurt. (Works: 2. Characters: Richie Jerimovich, Sydney Adamu. Characters: 13,449)

ONESHOTS

All Good Here - The only times that Syd and Richie had ever managed to get along were in fleeting moments, seconds that never lasted long enough and were always brought to an abrupt end with a sarcastic or scathing comment. (Characters: Carmen Berzatto, Richie Jerimovich, Sydney Adamu. Word Count: 3,599)

As Long As You're Here - Sydney has had a really, really long month and now she's 5 second away from throwing a glass at an annoying bartender. (AU. Characters: Richie Jerimovich, Sydney Adamu. Word Count: 4,508)

Bone Broth - It’s a gray Monday afternoon when Sydney rounds a corner at the grocery store and sees him at the other end of the aisle. (Characters: Sydney Adamu, Richie Jerimovich. Word Count: 10,020)

Chill Out - “You’re cold.” “Am not.” (Characters: Richie Jerimovich, Sydney Adamu. Word Count: 2,141)

I Close My Eyes and the Flashback Starts - "D'ya like Taylor Swift or not, Syd?" (Characters: Richie Jerimovich, Sydney Adamu. Word Count: 2,410)

I Feel For You - The thing with Richie was an accident; as much as going down on a man in your boss’ office after work can be an accident. (Characters: Carmen Berzatto, Richie Jerimovich, Sydney Adamu. Word Count: 3,318)

The Horoscope Today Said Things Would Go My Way - "What happened to 'rules are just unhelpful suggestions' and 'let go and live a little, Sydney'?" (Characters: Richie Jerimovich, Sydney Adamu, Tiffany Jerimovich. Word Count: 1,909)

Tough - "Thanks," Syd said. "Mike, right?" "Berzatto," Mike said. He grinned, lopsided, and said, "It's a family place." (AU. Characters: Sydney Adamu, Richie Jerimovich, Michael Berzatto, Carmen Berzatto. Word Count: 13,737)

I'll Sleep in the Rain Under Your Headlights - “Wow, Richie, that’s so charming. You’re so fucking charming.” “Yeah, sweetheart, you could learn something.” (Characters: Carmen Berzatto, Richie Jerimovich, Sydney Adamu. Word Count: 6,407)

Mindfuck - "Alright, just checking. Because yesterday, you didn't even like me." "Well, whoop-de-fuckin'-do, I changed my mind," Syd said. (Characters: Carmen Berzatto, Eva Jerimovich, Richie Jerimovich, Sydney Adamu. Word Count: 25,232)

Sheets to the Wind - Sometimes you just want to be kissed. Sometimes you just need to feel somebody. Sometimes you have like, ten beers and you’re both there and bad tension is still tension so you make out. (Characters: Richie Jerimovich, Sydney Adamu. Word Count: 3,318)

[gallaghersgal]

sydcarmy x reader…..established sydcarmy and then they find you and they either both have separate panic attacks like ‘NOOO I STILL LOVE MY PARTNER BUT ALSO THIS NEW PERSON?’ or they mutually just go ‘oh my🤭’

and the insanity of having BOTH OF THEM FLIRT WITH YOU? goodbye. carmen’s trying to be chill but somehow comes off so strong with the words he just says casually (ex. i wouldn’t even wanna do this without you) and syd with her sweetness and her making you food to try, especially stuff she knows you’d love. and the YEARNING STARES they’d give you

just both of them trying to include in their world and eventually sitting you down like ‘hey…what if…now hear me out…we all dated <3’

sydcarmy x reader has my entireeee heart istg. bc its carmen your new boss, and sydney your new best friend (im thinking reader is a cook at the bear) so obviously you feel like you can't make a move on either of them and then suddenly they're together and you definitely can't make a move on either of them... but then they're both so so sweet to you, carm with his gentle hands guiding you while you learn new techniques, sydney with her dazzling smile and wonderful jokes.

you start catching their gaze lingering on you in the kitchen, inviting you over to carmen's apartment to try out new recipes together, etc. and then sydney takes you as your plus one on a girls night out and the two of you come home drunk to carmy's apartment because its closer and the words tumble so easily out of sydney's lips that the three of you should "try this out" and ofc carmy is confused, stuttering and blushing as syd stands with an arm around his waist.

'carm, you've told me what you think of her' 'y-yeah 's just... jesus!' 'cmon man you're scaring her!' and you're stood there in drunken shock, your cheeks heating up and your lips quirking up into a confused smile before carmy reaches out and grabs your hand, pulling you under his other arm.

[chefkids]

Knife Theory

This is the third part of the Spoon-Fork-Knife Theory  that I believe makes up the main themes of the whole series and each season. Make sure to read The Spoon Theory and The Fork Theory too.

Carmy was on his literal last knife, as none of them were sharp, until he found his good knife on the floor after trying Sydney's stew. Sydney spent years working at Michelin restaurants and then overworking herself and spreading herself too thin with her catering business, and this was her her last hope and push forward after failing on her dream. Carmy has been on non stop knife mode for a decade, he did not even stop to grieve his brother, he just kept working and working.

When Carmy didn't have any "spoons" or help, he hurt himself using a knife. The same thing happened to Sydney because she was over exerting herself. Both of them are used to living in full knife mode. Carmy was selling jeans and his brothers jacket just to buy meat. He was literally giving his blood, sweat, and tears for this place.

Season 1 was all about Sydney and Carmy's "knives" and having to push themselves to the limit because of their passion to try and make The Beef into something better. Sydney used her knives and overspent her energy until she hurt Richie, the person that kept getting in the way of her using her knives both literally and metaphorically, and eventually she broke down and crashed. Carmy who was already on his last knife, struggling just to keep the lights on before Sydney arrived, finally felt the burn out when she left and almost let the restaurant burn down.

At the start of Season 2, Carmy is at a somewhat peaceful and chill place where he actually has free time, and the first thing he does when he's by himself is play with a knife. He needs the chaos and he doesn't know how to exist without being on high alert and pushing his passions to their limit. He then goes and sets practically impossible standards by planning to open in 3 months. He thinks he's using his knives to push himself to greatness but at the end of it all, what he has done is created new set of problems, also known as "forks", by avoiding his responsibilities and forcing others to have to use their "knives" and "spoons" to get things done because he is absent.

Tina ends up getting Carmy's knife both literally and in terms of being the one to push herself to her passion. She was putting all her energy into helping Sydney with the menu and to trying to get Ebra to have the same drive as her. Both things that really should have been Carmy's responsibility as Syd's partner and Ebra's boss. All while Carmy is off doing whatever with whoever.

Now, in the words of Carmy: if they want a Michelin star they are going to have to care about everything, more than anything. They are going to have to push themselves to their limits and they are going to have to use their "knives" again, but if they do there will inevitably come a big crash and burn at the end when everything comes catching up to them.

Read The Spoon Theory

Read The Fork Theory