#pen de lol

[headcutoff101]

#manpreet singh flora #headcutoff101 #headcutoff #sarkalam #sar kaat diya #boyfriend #sexy #indian #bodybuilder #model #gymlover #muscular #love #moustache #gay #penchood #harman cheema #pen de lol #kuta #gucci #guccibelt

[shivroy]

disco dudes

#garte is there because i fucking love him #and by extension his face #also i swear to god i will make more disco art #you just have to shake me by the shoulders and scream STOP DRAWING SUCCESSION SO YOU CAN DRAW DE #also also. for once the texture on this is physical and not an overlay lol #cuz this is just pen and ink that i turned the brightness way down on the scan #anyways Oh My God i love de so much i hope im not posting this at a horrible hour + i hope ppl see #i love them soooooooo so so so so much #i adore these men #KIM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! #art #traditional art #ink #inking #ink art #pen and ink #tried to recede their hairlines. i tried #salutes u #harrier du bois #harry du bois #kim kitsuragi #jean vicquemare #lawrence garte #disco elysium #de #disco elysium fanart #fanart

[rungian]

Oh boy oh boy they're finally done, and just in time for the 78th anniversary too!

Pride of the Furness Railway, the K2 Larger Seagulls will get you where you need to go come hell or high water. Why not steam down to Barrow, or take a relaxing summer trip up through the hills to Windermere?

Featuring Edward in his original livery alongside the brothers he would leave behind.

#wagahai wa train de aru #TTTE #TTTE OC #TTTE Edward #Edward the Blue Engine #Thomas the Tank Engine #Furness Railway #Marker pens #They're all scrap except Edward #I have too many things to say about these lads I love all of them unconditionally #Yes even you FR-22 #FR-38 (Edward) is the only number not accurate to real life #Oh yeah and happy 78th to RWS! #What a coincidence I happened to finish these lads today I hadn't even realised lol

[eternalfrowning]

some sketches!

#refs from championnat d'escalade videos on ytb! #climbing #gymnastics #stuff i draw #digital #original #traditional #felt tip pen #mixed media #the 'argh gah' txt is me going '??' while i draw plz ignore lol also it's marker spot from other page not grease iorbhobetrh #could have been tho my sketchbooks have chocolate and crumbs between pages - sketchbooks should be disgusting nods nods #maybe should have cleaned the page more on computer but now im too lazy :^> #took me longer to make the flat colors than drawing pfiouh #on va bien finir par voir des sketches sur ce sketchblog plus souvent quand même oh!! titre mensonger

[padfootastic]

out of all the marauders sirius is the one who has the most apparent dark side right? i read something on tumblr a while ago that said that sirius would have been like the male version of bellatrix had he joined the death eaters. honestly dumbledore should have been grateful that sirius wasn't a part of the so called dark side, because if he was, then the story would have taken a completely different turn. i mean just imagine sirius and bellatrix duelling together on the same side.

ooh, i must say--i think james is the only one who doesnt have an apparent dark side, actually.

peter, we saw his dark arc in real time. sirius, based off his capabilities, temper, and intensity as well as our own hcs. remus, more subtle but the manipulation + cowardice/running away + apathy & detachment sets a very good base for a dark side. also, if u want to go by some fanon interpretations of lycanthropy and the wolf being a separate entity. oh, also his ease with killing is a plus here.

with james, though, there's swm, yes but he was also a teenager who was incredibly spoiled and pampered with a b&w morality so i wonder how dark he truly could be.

that being said--absolutely the world would shudder in fear if sirius joined the dark side bc i truly think he had the ability and power to raze everyone to the ground. it's like,,,he was treated SO badly by the light side i wouldnt blame him for joining the DEs lol (read a few like that for harry. yum.) and then where would they be?

but even if he doesnt, and just chooses to go with a third side of his own, i still think he'd be formidable. not just because of his magic or his power, but because he's loyal to the bone and if he has to protect soemone, he'll do anything for them.

#sirius black #last time i said sirius could be a DE it became a bit controversial lol #but i like characters turning dark or joining the other side #it would be a bit ooc sure but... #ive seen it written convincingly #also our evil anon from a while ago--some of their asks had this as well #bella and sirius in the same room terrified everyone #and i tend to agree #i do see them as. mirrors of? similar to each other? #and a lot of 'what could've been's there #some imagery about being the elder sibling and being pushed to evil lol #but yes #pen’s asks

[mechahero]

"Not the kind of green ape I'm lookin' out for... but that is a pretty nice pen."

#//please lambda would have a much better time with de's green ape compared to well. broly bdhjfbhngjm #//and well #//he really likes that pen LOL #he's a killer queen... {ic} #pzfr

[tracybirds]

Hello! Sorry to hear you're unwell, and I hope your symptoms aren't too bad and that you have a speedy recovery.

Can I please get a ✨for Virgil? It's been a long exhausting week and I need a Vfix.

:)

*hugs* you're definitely having a rougher week than me and I hope you enjoy the below! The good news is that I'm still testing negative with no symptoms - it's my flatmates you gotta feel for :( Good luck with your crazy day ahead and I hope you get a rejuvenation period soon <333

Subsequently, to anyone reading this: Since I'm stuck at home for another four days - this is an open invite for any prompts. This particular game is send a character + ✨and I shuffle all my music and write a oneshot based on the song! Pretty please bc I'm so bored lol...

So! I shuffled "She's So High" by Tal Bachman and the lyrics that inspired this are of course the classic chorus: “Cause she’s so high, high above me, she’s so lovely.”

This one has one-sided pining Virgil/Penny and I'm leaning into the idea that everyone has had a crush on Lady Penelope at some point and rightly so. Intended to be TAG-verse (just bc most of the VxP stuff I've seen is TOS)

---

They return to the island under the grey light of dawn and Virgil hardly pauses to watch the colour return to the world. He doesn’t need to, still alight and alive with the sights and sounds of his first society party. Dazed, he doesn’t hear Scott’s gentle ribbing nor Jeff’s bemused queries.

Instead, he stumbles up the stairs, thoughts swirling and all undeniably tugging him to the single, crystalline point in time when he met Lady Penelope.

His heart bounds ahead, thudding in his chest and so surely shining on his face that it’s all he can do to stammer his excuses and escape to his room.

There Virgil sits, the shimmering pinks of sunrise glowing on his cheeks and the memory of her soft lips on them warms him to his core.

The daydream grows beyond the reality of a friendly, gentle kiss goodbye, and he shoves his burning face in his hands, squeezing his eyes tightly against the trail of her ghostly touch.

“Stop it,” he whispers, half hysterical. “You know nothing can happen.”

Scott snickers in his head, nudging at an imagined John, grinning at him with an odd smile that was half sympathy and half reminiscence. They’d told him, pulled him aside in a way he had thought only happened in movies.

“Listen,” said Scott. “Just act normal when you meet Penelope.”

“Yeah, yeah, I won’t embarrass you in front of any of the girls,” he’d said, rolling his eyes.

“She’s not like the girls from school, she’s a Lady,” insisted Scott. “Just don’t fall for her, promise me.”

“Why?” he’d asked, little brother senses pinging immediately at the scent of dirt on Scott. “D’you like her or something?”

John snorted.

“Everyone likes Penny. She’s magnetic.”

“And her family has expectations,” said Scott, firmly. “Which don’t include an American farmboy from Kansas.”

“Isn’t Dad rich now?”

“That doesn’t matter to these people,” said John. “It’s the name they’re after, and ours means next to nothing.”

“The point is,” said Scott, “you should just guard that heart of yours a little. It’ll be easier on you both.”

Virgil groans, flopping back on the mattress. Like that had happened.

He’s only gone and done exactly what his brothers had warned him against, all sense leaving him in the overwhelming presence of gently amused laughter and a scent just like the vase of peonies on the kitchen table back in Kansas.

It’s fine.

He was in love and it was fine.

Virgil knows he can’t dwell, knows he needs to pull himself out of this stupor, but he’s drowning and the thought of her binds him even greater than the weight of gravity.

He stumbles to his desk, the soft notes of a new day arising, and sketches on scattered paper with a fevered hand.

She’s there too – the curl of her lips in the waves, the high angle of cheekbones in the plunging cliffs. Her laughs live in the birdsong and her bright eyes lend more sparkle to the dew than the sun in the sky.

The door slammed opened, and Scott’s cheery voice cut through the haze in his head as he entered.

“Dad wanted me to check on you,” he says, still grinning. “Reckons you might be drunk or something after that display. What’s that?”

Virgil instinctively shoved the paper away, cheeks burning over what must seem to be no more than a landscape.

Scott shrugged and threw himself on the bed.

“You’re not drunk though, are you?”

“Of course not.”

“No,” he says. “You’re just another idiot who’s fallen for Lady Penelope.”

The warm feeling in his chest that had begun to ebb ever since Scott doused it with friendlier familiarity suddenly blazes like hot coals.

“No, I haven’t.”

The denial falls easily from his lips, coloured in righteous anger and falsehood. The lie shocks him more than Scott who only sniggers.

He doesn’t think it should be so easy to cover over a feeling that has shaken his entire world.

“Yes, you have.”

John leans against the door frame, that same strange smile still playing on his lips.

“I told you, she’s magnetic.”

Virgil looks between his brothers and falls forward with his head in his hands. The truth simmers beneath the surface and he knows they can already see it. Maybe it’s been written on his face ever since she waltzed into the room and asked his name.  

“She’s just… so lovely.”

“In every way,” agrees Scott, with no small amount of sympathy.

“A force to be reckoned with,” murmurs John.

His eyes are far away and he shakes his head, pulling him back into the present.

Scott barely spares a glance for him, his attention focusing intently on Virgil.

“So, what are you gonna do?”

“Do?” echoes Virgil.

“Yeah. Dad talked me out of it pretty quick, and John was too dead-set on space cadets for anything to happen. But you…”

He trailed off and Virgil saw an entire life in his words. A life where he ran through hellfire and British downpours, bold as Scott and sure as John, to sweep Penelope off her feet and bring her to a castle in the sky where he could love her and nothing more.

And he saw it clear as day, how he froze when Scott introduced them, how she looked him over with eager eyes and surmised his character without a word. How he would never persuade her to go, how they would both suffer for his foolishness.

“Nothing’s going to happen,” he says and the words sound hollow, their substance as flimsy as wisps of air without the fervent fire of love he felt mere minutes before.

Scott looks surprised for a second, but he doesn’t argue.

“And you’re okay with that?” asks John, eyes watching him carefully.

Virgil looks out the window. The sun still shines in the deep blue of the sky, but its light is cold. He can still hear her sigh in the wind, can still see the colour of her eyes in the sea. The vibrancy has faded but her touch is still there, blessedly changing the way he sees the world in a way he knows he’ll spend a lifetime trying to recapture. Already, he can feel a twinge of longing for the fantasy, only waiting for a moment’s silence to kindle the embers still glowing warm in his heart.

“I think so.”

“Good.”

He didn’t used to be so good at lying.

#poor guy #very relatable though 10 year old me saw the 2004 movie and my heart did the whole bump-de-bump thing *sigh* #anyway!! #virgil tracy #penelope creighton ward #virgil x penelope #you know how gords and penny are pen and ink.... well this can be pen and paint lol #okay i'm done now #thunderbirds are go #sometimes i fic

[hockeynoses]

I am requesting that I see some more of Tristan Jarry's nose. Thank you very much.

I’m so sorry, Anon, but I cannot help you there. I seem to have a thing about Jarry in that I have never found him attractive.

I know he’s a nice guy and seemingly normal, but...something about his face. I don’t trust it. He looks like in a previous life he was a meth dealer or a murderer or something. Plus, I don’t like that he got his teeth capped.

Sorry I’ve provided you with a Jarry roast instead of some cute nose pics. 😂

#I'm just speak/ing my tru/th lol #it's tough being a pens fan with a goalie you don't particularly care about #and of course de/smith is WORSE in a very real life way

[ticktokrobotsnot]

Turbulence

This is part 1.

You can read Part 2 here

Pairing: Carmen Berzatto x fem!reader 

Summary: An accountant helps Carmen organize his shit-hole restaurant.

Word Count: 14k

warning: panic attacks, stabbing Richie in the ass, mentions of suicide, tax evasion lol

__

After years of working in restaurants as an in-house accountant, Y/n met a lot of chefs. They were all the same, especially the good ones, and the worst part was that they all thought they were so unique and tortured. They assumed that their problems justified them yelling over a broken sauce or a pierced piece of veal. They made food look pretty and they served it to people. Women have been doing that for years and you don't have people praising them for that. Now some guy with a complex does it and its art, it's magical, it's jaw dropping. No, it was a waste of time and energy. 

It was food, a necessity and they had perverted it to some freak art show with conflicting flavors and overall mayhem. It was like a cult, where they convinced everyone that their ossobuco for breakfast, coq au vin for lunch, escargots de bourgogne for dinner, and crème brûlée for dessert wasn’t making them physically sick, mixing different cuisine in a failed attempt at being different. It was regular food served small, but the pretentiousness made y/n more sick than their food.

Y/n was willing to concede that Carmen wasn’t the worst chef she met. She got a job at the French Laundry a few years back and there really wasn’t a word that could adequately describe him because to her, Carmen was nothing but a shell of a man. 

In their brief encounters, y/n knew Carmen didn’t have a life outside of cooking. She would watch the chefs come in at the ass crack of dawn and Carmen was always there first. Even when he came to pick up his check at the end of the day, he would grab it before running back to the kitchen to check up on some marinated before he left. The stupid hunk of meat deserved more of his attention than the women handing him his paycheck. She had to refrain her self from screaming, “Look at me you stupid fuck, I’m here giving you your paycheck, look me in the fucking eyes. That steak isn’t going to do anything but get shit out in a few hours! I'm real, look at me.”

It was an immature and one-sided hate, Carmen didn’t really deserve it. However, she found it hard to resist seeing him as an easy target, given his passive nature and frustrating obliviousness to the situation. She never actually did anything crazy like mess with his paycheck or fuck with his W-2, it was more like glaring at him when no one was looking or taking a pen that feel out from his bookbag, holding on to it for a few days, and then dropping it near his locker a few days later. It was very harmless and it felt nice to finally have someone to bother, without actually bothering them. 

Every so often he would do something that would make it difficult to hate him fully. He would open the door for her when they were the first to come into work, or he would help her pick up some files that she dropped, or put that very pen back in her cup holder because he assumed that the pen was her pen to begin with. If he had said a single word to her, y/n would probably have had a bit of a crush on him but he never did, infact y/n never heard his voice. Her office was quite a walk from the kitchen so she was left wondering if he belonged to the boisterous brigade of chefs who bellowed at anything in their path, or if he truly possessed the quiet demeanor he exuded. If he were to speak a single syllable, he would transform from a mere embodiment of her job dissatisfaction into a fully-formed individual.

That's why she was confused when she got a phone call weeks after Carmen mysteriously left. The resignation was a shock to y/n, she never once expected him to quit, she thought he would die on top of the stove when his heart finally checked out from all that fat, sugar and acid at 65. She remembered mindlessly sticking his last paycheck in an envelope to ship to Chicago, maybe he got a better job there at Venteux, Brindille, or Les Nomades. They must have sent an amazing poacher for him to leave just about everything in his locker but his backpack and never look back. 

“Hello, is this y/n?” Y/n sat up on her couch wondering who was calling her at 9pm on a Tuesday.

“Yeah…Who is this?’ Y/n wondered if one of her friends gave out her number without asking her again. Even if this guy had a nice voice and sounded handsome she would have to reject him based on principle.

“It's Carmen…Berzatto… from the French Laundry.” Y/n dropped her phone in shock, not knowing what knocked the wind out of her lungs more, the fact that she was getting a call from an ex-employee, the fact that he had her number in the first place, the fact that she was getting this call scandalously late, or that he actually sounded like that. Jesus, he was really holding back on her. 

“Are you still there?” Y/n grabbed her phone from the floor and gave him a simple, “Yes.”

“How have you…been?” He was unsure how to approach this and he would never do this unless he was desperate, which he was. 

“I have been fine, I heard you moved to Chicago, a new exciting job?”

“That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about.” Y/n didn’t probe because this felt like payback for all the times that she said something to him hoping that he would fill the space just for him to walk into that stupid fucking kitchen and leave her standing around like a fool. 

“Umm…It's a long story but I have this restaurant that needs a bit of accounting?” Y/n didn’t say anything and let him suffer in his own silence like she used to. She chose to flop down on her couch again. 

“I'm not sure what the right word is, but the books are a mess and I was wondering if you could have a look.” 

“Paid of course. Obviously I'm going to pay you.” He stumbled out. Finally, y/n thought, he was fumbling which was a nice change of pace from his usual stoicism. 

“What’s the place's name?” 

“The Beef.” Y/n sat up on her elbows.

“I have never heard of it before, how many stars does it have?”

“It doesn't have any.” 

“Okay…okay?…” Y/n was assuming that he started working at some nepo babies new pet restaurant, the pay must be amazing for him to leave like that. A part of her was proud of Carmen for choosing money over his craft. 

Y/n continued, “Give me the owner’s number and we can get the details together.” 

“I'm the owner.” She didn’t think that she could be rendered speechless by a guy who would probably combust if you squirted cheese-wiz within a 10 feet radius of him.

Y/n composed herself, he was calling for her which means that he needed her. She had the leverage and she wouldn’t ruin it by babbling like an idiot. “I can come by next week.”

She heard a distant sigh, “That's…yeah…yeah, that's great, we will cover travel and get you a place to stay.” Y/n wanted to be a bitch and demand first class and a five star hotel but she had a feeling that he would actually think she was being serious. 

“I’ll send over the information, y/n.” The sound of her name coming out his lips felt foreign, she had never heard her name spoken like that. 

“Good night, Carmen.” Just as she was about to hang up the phone she heard a quiet, “She said yes?” He doubted her. Good, y/n thought, he should doubt her, he doesn’t know anything about her and that was entirely his fault. She hung up the phone and searched up The Beef, she found a hundred restaurants with the same name. What the hell was Carmen doing at a restaurant that couldn’t even come up with an original name.

She gave herself a week to prepare even though she didn’t have a job anymore. She quit a few days after Carmen did, she had lost all motivation to go there everyday, without a target she was just flying till she splattered on the ground. 

The underlying reason for her self-imposed week of preparation was a strategic move to play hard to get. Y/n wanted Carmen to realize her value and understand that he needed her and that she was just as good as him, if not better. 

Immature, petty, bitchy, difficult, mean; maybe her mother was right about her after all. 

A week flew by and she was at baggage claim when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned around and saw a short woman in a blue apron and an eye-sore of a bandana. 

“I'm Sydney, I'm new. I’m here to pick you up, Carmen says he’s sorry couldn’t do it but we have to prep for the lunch rush.” The way that Sydney looked when speaking about Carmen showed that she had a deep respect for him and a small evil part of y/n wanted to convince Sydney that Carmen was actually tied to the mob or did ballet in his spare time. Something that would knock him off of a pedestal and make him more like a person and less like a God. 

Y/n picked up her luggage and wordlessly rolled it over to where Sydney had it parked. The ride to the restaurant was filled with questions that she really didn’t know the answer to, What was Carmen like in New York? What was a dish of his that y/n liked the most? 

Sydney should have asked what his salary was, that y/n knew like the back of her hand. Y/n answer those questions by repeating things that other people have said about Carmen. His plum desert was to die for, he was very methodical in the kitchen, and he ran a tight ship, what more could she possibly know? 

Sydney finally pulled over in a rough neighborhood and y/n wondered if Sydney needed to do an errand before they finished their journey but when she saw through the window that another guy was wearing the same color apron as Sydney, she knew that this was the famous “The Beef'' that took Carmen away from her. It wasn’t even called “The Beef'' it was called, “The Original Beef of Chicagoland '' which was somehow even worse. 

Y/n told Sydney that she needed a few moments to herself and when Sydney slipped inside, y/n started sprinting towards the pub next door. She gave the bartender a sob story about how she was looking for a job next door as a waitress and how she wanted to know what the situation was next door, for her safety, before she asked for a job. The bartender bought her story and gave her a quick review of what had happened. The previous owner killed himself, shot his brains out, and now it was under new management, the old guy’s brother. Yikes didn’t even begin to cover what y/n thought but that was the best she could come up with, so...Yikes. 

She ran back to the restaurant, fixed up her hair and walked in like she didn’t just hear a horrific story that was going to make it very difficult to do her job. 

Y/n walked in, and she felt like she was in an alternate dimension, y/n was by no means spoiled and she had eaten in worse places than this, but the thought that Carmen Berzatto, her Carmen Berzatto, was working in a place like this felt like a joke. She wondered how stupid he looked in his chef whites, slicked back hair, and annoying long apron that looked like a skirt.

The restaurant hadn’t opened yet but she was greeted by a woman named Tina who basically rolled her eyes at y/n and then disappeared into the kitchen. Sydney chirped in with a comforting, “Yeah…she’s like that.” Y/n gave her an understanding smile. She wasn’t expecting much because nobody likes an intruder. 

“Carmen said I need to look at some books. Do you know where they are…or where he is so he can tell me where they are?”

“Sdy, can you cover for me.” Y/n’s head snapped up, she recognized that voice from the phone call and was rendered speechless twice. He wasn’t wearing those migraine inducingly ugly chef whites but regular clothes with a blue apron. He had many more tattoos than she thought. His hair wasn’t slick back with gel but it was actually relaxed barring any sweat that might have pushed his hair back. Carmen was buff, which was such a shock to her that she really did feel like this was not real. And lastly, he called this “new” chef Sdy, a nickname. They were close, and y/n couldn’t explain it but that made her eyes twitch. She worked so hard to get to know him the first few months at the French Laundry and got nothing and now “Syd” got a nickname. 

She took a deep breath before, “It's been a while.”

“Thanks for coming, let me show you the books.” She was surprised to hear any form of thanks from him but the lack of small talk was really nothing new. She followed him through the kitchen and heat from all the stoves made her nauseous. There was a lot of yelling and it looked like it was an overall mess both aesthetically wise and teamwork wise. 

They finally got to the office, it had a worn desk littered with what looked like a fuck ton of papers, scratch that bills. Y/n looked up at Carmen who looked…ashamed. She took a deep breath before sitting down on the chair and looked up at Carmen waiting for him to give her a rundown of everything. They were behind on every bill imaginable, they hadn’t been able to pay vendors, and there were quotes for broken machines. Looks like Carmen’s brother left him a real shit show. 

This felt like winning the lottery, not only was she seeing an interesting puzzle for her to solve, she was able to see Carmen look human for once. It was a shame, however, that the only human emotion that he was showing was stress but something was better than nothing. One thing that was untouched was the payroll, he never was behind on paying his workers, y/n felt a slight tug in her chest but she ignored that.

He looked down at her, and asked, “I’m going to leave this with you…umm….” And then he left the kitchen. Y/n starting grabbing floating folders and organizing. Most of the stuff was kinda sorted, but stuff like old payroll documents were in a file called “shit”, so she thought a total revamp was necessary. 

It felt like y/n was an intern again, resigned to tedious work. After a few hours and a quick trip to Staples for office supplies, she had made the cluttered desk look like her old desk in the French Laundry…empty, sterile, cold.

With a deep breath she left the kitchen to find Sydney so she could unlock her car so that y/n could grab her laptop. The heat was bad, but the yelling was mind scrambling. It felt like she was dropped in a war zone trying to find where she parked her car, an innocent civilian amongst the war torn soldiers. She couldn’t be here any longer, she practically ran over to Sydney and asked for her car keys and was mindlessly directed to some lockers. Y/n could tell that she was busy so she didn’t ask which one in particular. 

She started opening random lockers, and after her third one she saw a familiar sight. A brown wool jacket, the same one she had seen Carmen wear in New York, she quickly shut the door. This was too much, he was becoming a bit too human, too real. She finally found the right locker and rushed to get her laptop and the rest of her luggage and shut the office door. 

She spent the first quarter of her day digitizing payroll as a quick warm up, she had a feeling that she would need it.

Y/n moved on to a leather bound book under a gas bill and after a quick glance she knew that this was going to be a fucking disaster. Whoever did the books used different coloured pens, was writing outside the lines, circling stuff randomly,  doodling, and this was just the visual disaster, the closer she looked at the chicken scratch the more she realized how deep in debt this palace was. Thousands of dollars were being drained seemingly randomly and then money was being put back just as chaotically. There was no record of how the money was being spent or where the money was coming from. Even though y/n didn’t know Carmen very well she knew he would never do this, it was that brother of his. The inside of the cover said Micheal Berzzato. 

She spent the rest of the day organizing the accounts payable and receivables. It was like trying to go through a dense forest with a pair of nail clippers but she got through a fraction of it. She already knew that the money wouldn’t add up and that if they got audited, the restaurant would be in deep shit. 

She had her headphones in and nearly fell off her chair if Carmen didn’t brace her when he came in unannounced. Her heart practically shot out of her ass but she pulled herself together. 

“I thought you would have left by now.”

Y/n looked at the time on her laptop and saw that it was 11:30pm, she was a bit impressed with herself. Look at me Carmen, I can also throw myself at my work and I didn’t need people to think I'm God’s gift to man. 

“I lost track of time, is the restaurant still open?” Carmen shook his head. Y/n sat up and ushered him to the chair. She didn’t like it when people hovered over her and she wanted Carmen to look up at her for once. She placed her left hand on the back of his chair and her right on the laptop’s trackpad. 

“Your payroll needed to be updated, no one does this on paper anymore.” Y/n showed him how to move things around, how to change certain information, etc and she was expecting him to half heartedly listen but was pleasantly surprised when he sat there and listened. He asked meaningful questions which almost made her fall over, he wanted to learn and that was very… admirable. Y/n had to snap herself out of it, of course he was listening, she was brought here to fix and teach, and she wasn’t cheap either. 

She then directed him to the organized files and how to maintain file organization in case he was ever audited. He stared with such intensity that she had to turn around and pretend that she was looking for a file. She spent her entire career working in a building where almost no one knew her name, or really looked at her. The chefs were busy with their eye filets and lobster to look at her, management spoke to her through emails but now she was center stage which was making it hard to focus.

She ended her presentation with a short run down of the order that he should pay off certain bills based on priority. She finally looked down at him and was surprised that he was still looking back at her. 

“Wow…all that in a day?” Y/n only presented 50% of the work she did today, omitting the illicit money transactions Micheal had orchestrated, and here Carmen was looking at her like she was God’s gift to him. 

“It’s going to take a while to decipher this,” holding up the leather book, “but it's not impossible.” 

Carmen parted his lips before closing them a few times, “How long can you stay here? Like how many vacation days did you take?” 

Y/n debated telling him that she still had a job back home but there really wasn’t any point in lying to make herself look good for Carmen. Y/n was never one to be unnecessarily cruel, just a bit of a nuisance, so she would give him a bit of satisfaction. It was to make up for what she put him through in New York. She pretended to search for something on her laptop while avoiding Carmen’s eyes beneath her. 

“I don’t work there anymore.” Carmen’s head shot up and he wondered if he had heard that correctly. He wanted to ask why she left but he knew that would be crossing a line. 

“What are your future plans?” Y/n looked up and wondered that as well. 

She knew she had to leave French Laundry, she hated the long hours, overbearing bosses, and most of all she hated the people she worked with. There was a team of accountants who worked near her and even though she did the majority of the work she always had to fight to get a seat at the table. She was smart, talented, and competent but she was always officially relegated to payroll even when she was the one who spent weeks organizing binders filled with projection just for some jackass to get the credit. The issue wasn’t just her coworkers but her bosses that assumed that someone else had done the research and let her present, and infuriatingly no one ever corrected management. Add all of that with the loss of what she considered her only acquaintance, she ran as fast as she could. 

As for future plans, she had enough money to live a relatively nice life even if she didn’t find work for a year. She hated the French Laundry but she couldn’t sell them short, they paid her very well. 

“I don’t know, I will probably have to find a new job.” That piqued Carmen’s interest, he assumed that she had another job lined up because y/n didn’t seem like the type to get up and leave without an exit strategy. 

“If you're interested…” Carmen didn’t want to get his hopes up but he knew that he needed her here, this couldn’t work without someone like her. “You can always work here.”

Carmen’s head was swimming, if she said yes that would make his life a million times easier. He might actually be able to sleep a full eight hours. 

Y/n didn’t really know how to respond, she didn’t hate the idea. “Am I going to be the only one working finance here?” Carmen’s chest fell, of course this was too much for one person. 

“Yeah but if you need more peo-” 

“Just me is fine. I don’t like working with other people.” Clear and blunt, y/n didn’t want to waste his time. 

“Yeah..” Carmen looked one last look at the computer screen with the filled excel sheets that transformed his brother’s horrible business practices to legible spreadsheets and he knew he definitely needed her. 

“What time do you want me to come tomorrow?” 

“Whenever is good for you?” 

Y/n furrowed her eyebrows. “You are paying for my services so act like it.” What she said was rude and slightly uncalled for.

Carmen looked up at her and felt like he was back in New York again, like when he was too scared to talk to her or when he would catch her glaring at him from the corner of his eye. Carmen knew she didn’t like him but if he needed her so what could he do, most of his staff already hated him so what was one more. 

Y/n sighed, she tried to intimidate him to force him to toughen up but it looks like it just made him clam up. “That was really rude for me to say, but I think you need to hear it.” Y/n had a feeling that he was going to remember this so she thought she started to do damage control. 

“All I ever hear about your food is how amazing and jaw dropping and delicious and mind blowing it is. You are very..” Y/n struggled to find a neutral word that would allow her to lift his spirits but not too high, “..competent. Your staff however…”

That got Carmen to pick up his head, “They are goo-” 

“And I bet they are good but you can’t do your job and show off their skills and talents if they all walk around you like that. Can I be frank with you?” Carmen slowly nodded his head. 

“I don’t see your restaurant lasting very long with the crew you have here.” Carmen knew that but hearing it out loud stung. “You have to make a few changes, either swap out a few annoying chefs or make them change.” 

A few hours prior, y/n’s curiosity had gotten the best of her and she looked through Sydney’s resume. It was stacked with good restaurants and she even had a brief stint at catering, y/n didn’t hesitate to admit that Sydney was just as capable as Carmen. 

“Get Sydney more involved, she can do much more than what you have her doing now.” Y/n saw Sdyney’s pay which showed that she was getting paid a regular chef salary, she deserved sous-chef. Carmen nodded his head but he was looking away, in his mind he wondered how she could possibly even know that while sitting in his office all day. 

“They’re used to doing things a certain way.” 

“I'm guessing fear is not your management style.” Y/n pondered how she would fix a situation like this if she was in his shoes. “I would say avoid baptism by fire.” 

Y/n continued, “It's going to be a mess but you just need to lead the kitchen like you did in New York for the first few days and then transfer the responsibility to Sydney who will be watching the entire time so she isn’t thrown into a pile of shit on her first day and quit. That way you can continue to do whatever you were doing in New York.” 

It had never occurred to Carmen that y/n didn’t know what he did, but then again he barely  knew what she did. He would watch her typing away or he would hear fragments of urgent phone calls about audits, and give out checks. But other than that he didn’t know what she did for the rest of her day, so he had to swallow his discontentment with her not noticing him because he was no better than her. 

“I think you need to expect more from people, you don’t have to do everything by yourself.” Y/n concluded. 

It was quiet barring the sound of the lights buzzing. Just as y/n was about to slip out, Carmen swiftly stood up and walked out the office towards the kitchen and started pulling out bowls. 

“I thought you said that this place was closed, what are you making?” 

“What do you want to eat?” Carmen wasn’t looking at her as he grabbed a knife and a cutting board. 

“Umm…You don’t need-”

“Give me something, y/n”

“It's late, Carmen.” 

“You’ve been here all day and you didn’t eat anything…” Y/n gave him a disapproving look.

“Y/n.” He asserted, she couldn’t leave in good faith without eating something. 

She didn’t fail to notice that when he lost control back in the office he came rushing out to re-assert his power by forcing her to eat something he was going to make.

“I don’t know…something easy and wont fuck up my stomach.” Y/n conceded.

Carmen smirked, and y/n was able to appreciate his objective handsomeness. After a few minutes of chopping she was presented with a simple salad. 

“I tried to replicate the salad dressing from what I smelled from the last time I went to your office.” Y/n was shocked, she didn’t know that he noticed stuff like that, she was also amused that he had a great nose, both functionally and aesthetically. 

 Y/n was also surprised when Carmen asked her, “Why did you leave?”

“Why did you?” Y/n countered, she knew the answer but she assumed that he wouldn’t tell her. This felt like a decent way to manufacture some space. One step forward for making a meal and 2 steps back for asking probing questions. 

“My brother used to own this place…and he died…killed himself.” Carmen was full of surprises today. 

Y/n mumbled out, “I hated working there so much I would crawl out of bed hoping that I would fall, crack my head open and never have to step foot in there anymore… I would be gagging a block away from work every single day because I couldn’t stomach another second in my office.” 

Y/n assumed that Carmen couldn’t relate, he was a god back in New York.

“I used to throw up every morning.” Y/n put her fork down and looked up at Carmen who continued. “And I would get these heat flashes while I was there even when the kitchen was like negative three-thousand fucking degrees.” 

They were never good enough. 

It was an embarrassing thing for both of them to admit, they tried to survive in New York and failed because they were weak, but at least they were in good company. 

“My boss was a dick. He used to say crazy shit just to get a rise out of me.” Y/n didn’t know that Carmen had a boss, she just assumed that he ran the kitchen. 

“Who was your boss?” Y/n went down her rolodex of names before landing on, “That guy with the huge forehead?” 

Carmen covered his mouth with his hand but she knew there was a smile underneath. She was able to get a good look at his tattoo, she had only caught glimpses when he would grab an envelope from her or hold the door. At the time she thought it was out of place but seeing the whole picture, Carmen with his wavy hair, gold chain, smirk, and arm littered with tattoos she realized that she was missing out on a lot. 

Y/n finished her salad and helped him clean up before they locked up the restaurant and Carmen stuffed her luggage in the trunk. 

“You’ve seen our books..”

Y/n gave a small hum.

“So you know that we can’t put you in a hotel for weeks.”

“If I'm not staying at a hotel, where am I going?” Y/n was ready to jump out of the car if he said his house. 

“I have a family friend of a friend who is visiting family down in Florida, and she said you can stay there.” 

A weight was lifted off of y/n shoulders, y/n was feeling bold, “You’ve ever been to Florida?”

“I went once to check out a few restaurants when I was younger, you?” Y/n hid it well but she was shaking in nerves because it was the first time in years that she was getting some small talk out of him. 

“I went to Disney with my family and got a heat stroke. How long is your family friend of a friend staying in Florida?”

“More than 2 months later, she left like a few days ago.” That caused some concern for y/n, she was going to stay in a house that had been abandoned for a few days in a new city, it was like the beginning of a B - rated horror film. The possibility of a serial killer waiting to turn her into a lamp shade was probably close to zero but it still freaked her out. Carmen pulled into the driveway carrying all of her bags leaving her with just her purse. 

They approached the front of the house and Carmen opened the door and started placing the suitcases near the entryway, and y/n kept the door open, and Carmen got the hint. She wasn’t going to forge some type of artificial connection by asking him to help her walk through the house for any intruders because that would require her to rely on him. 

To y/n, Carmen was unreliable, he could ignore her for years, only to suddenly offer her rides and engage in small talk. What puzzled her even more was his transition from avoiding eye contact to intensely staring her down. Y/n could tell from the sound that leaked from under the office door that he had an underlying temper, a bad one too. She didn’t want to be swept up in his current and be left high and dry. He seemed like he picked up things quickly and left them just as sporadically. While she recognized his passion for food and cooking, ensuring her job stability, Carmen was…unsteady.

Y/n knew people like him, people who hurt those who were close to them when they felt trapped. What feared y/n the most was what would eventually come out of her mouth if they ever got too close and Carmen said something to make her go away. He would say something vile and y/n would probably say that he is nothing, or that he is a failure, or that it should have been him and not his brother. 

The thought of saying something so profoundly awful and untrue haunted her, making it impossible for her to bear the weight on her conscience. She had crossed that line before and was acutely aware of her limits. Carmen represented that limit—a boundary she couldn't afford to cross—rendering him off-limits in her life.

Carmen left a quiet goodbye and y/n gave him one back before shutting the door grabbing a knife and going through each of the rooms herself. She didn’t need him or anyone. 

Once she went through the house with a fine tooth comb she locked herself in one of the bedrooms, got ready for bed. Her lease in New York expired in a few weeks so she knew she had to fly back to grab her stuff. She couldn’t sleep in this grandma’s house any longer so she grabbed her laptop and started looking for apartments. 

Y/n woke up to the sound of her alarm and she felt nauseous before she remembered that she wasn’t crawling back to the French Laundry, she was trying something new. She got ready and spent the whole morning calling realtors and scheduling showings. She took the train to The Beef and when she came in, it looked like they were about to have some type of meeting outfront. Y/n slipped into the office and was momentarily shocked that Carmen was there. She put her bag behind the chair while Carmen was sitting, subtly telling him to fuck off and that this was her desk now. Carmen got up, “What a good boy? So smart”, y/n chuckled in her head. 

“What is happening out front? Do I need to sit in?” 

“We need to introduce you and we are going to transition to a french brigade, I just spoke to Sydney..”

“How did she take it? You told her you were going to take the lead or did-?”

Carmen was checking his watch obsessively, “She will be fine.” Looks like Carmen was in a hurry and so y/n didn’t even wait for Carmen to open the door before she walked over to the meeting.

She didn’t sit down because there wasn’t a chair for her. She saw the other chefs look at her but no one bothered to ask any questions. Sydney was standing right next to her and y/n saw that she was rehearsing her lines that were written in a small black notebook. 

“Don’t mention the role titles, it's just going to scare them off.” Sydney looked up at her. “And keep it short and don’t fumble your words, you’ll sound like a fourth grader.” Sydney opened her mouth but was cut off by Carmen walking out front. 

Carmen started explaining about how they were getting new aprons, how he wanted to reorganize the kitchen, and how they needed to be clean. He did not yet explain the elephant in the room to the rest of the chefs; who was y/n and what the hell is she doing here? Carmen was interrupted by a tall man walking in very late. 

He took one look at y/n before pointing at her with a coffee cup, “Who are you? Cousin, why are you collecting women?”

“I am y/n, I am the new accountant.” Any form of teasing and snickering died down as a new worry washed over the staff, if Carmen was changing everything he might start changing staff. If y/n could sense it, then so could Carmen and just as she looked up to him for support he quickly excused himself because he had somewhere to be. He just left her to deal with this mess. See? Not stable. 

“Do you have any questions for me?”

“Your not fucking firing anyone.” The tall guy threatened.

“Nobody is getting fired, no one is getting a pay cut and no one is getting replaced. If anything like that happens, that is Carmen’s decision.” Y/n allowed herself to throw Carmen under the bus just once because he left her. 

“I’ll just be keeping the books in order.”

“Richie, sit down.” An older woman instructed. 

“Carmen said something about a French brigade, it's essentially what you guys are doing just with more defined roles, it's not too different. Sydney will elaborate.” Y/n though she did an acceptable job not throwing Sydney head first like Carmen did and Sydney seemed to be a lot more comfortable then she was a few minutes ago. She didn’t title drop and she didn’t fumble. The crew was obviously annoyed but it was over quickly and Sydeny walked over to y/n. 

They walked into the kitchen and Sydeny was feeling overwhelmed because Carmen wasn’t here like he said that he would be. 

“Thanks for the pointers” 

“No problem. Do you need me to help?” Y/n had seen the inner workings of a kitchen before, granted it had been many years prior and in a different restaurant then the French Laundry but she thought that she would be better support then Carmen, who wasn’t even there. 

Y/n spent most of her time calling out orders, tracking what was sent out and doing quality checks, it wasn’t rocket science and she never understood why all those male chefs were screaming all the time, Sydney walked around and did her job as sous-chef. Overall, a very calm transition barring a few hiccups. A few of the chefs tried to steal some onions and y/n had to leave her station and tell them to basically fuck off. Sydney was already tense and doing stupid shit like that would send her over the edge.

The lunch rush was over and y/n was finally reprieved from her duties. She needed some air so she walked outside and into an alley where she saw Carmen.

She was beyond pissed at him, and the sight of him made her boil in rage but she couldn’t leave based on principle. 

“How was Sydney?” Carmen asked.  Y/n felt like murdering him. She took a few deep breaths before continuing to speak. He wouldn't listen to her if she screamed at him.

“You should have been there.” Y/n said with a bit of an edge.

It was quiet for a long time. Y/n put her head back.

“I went to an Al-Anon meeting, my brother was an addict. It’s his birthday today” 

“How often are the meetings? Once a week?” Carmen nodded.

“Did it maybe occur to you to push back the transition one more day so you didn’t leave Sydney alone?” Y/n said calmly and with no malice, she was so exhausted from her lack of sleep, food, and being on her feet all day. 

Carmen didn’t say anything, so y/n continued, “You're a steam roller. You don’t listen to other people and you don't think of other people. You left Sydney to drown, that wasn’t great. Not to mention you didn’t even introduce me.”

Carmen's gaze bore into her with undeniable intensity, yet y/n was too upset with him to be swayed by any semblance of attraction.

“I’ll do better. I’ll listen and be there.”

“We’ll see.” Saying you were going to change was different than actually changing. 

In an attempt to lighten the mood, she graced him with a small smile. "You know, your job isn't that tough," she playfully teased, tilting her head back slightly.

“Really?” Carmen thought she was being serious.

“No kidding, you should hand me your apron and the deed to this restaurant because I just killed it today.” Carmen caught on.

“What did you do today?” 

“Called out orders, made sure things were leaving the kitchen, blah blah blah. Honestly, it's kind of fun. It's like those restaurant management phone games, do you ever play those?” 

“That would hit a little too close to home.” Y/n snickered.

“My head is spinning and I didnt even start the work I'm supposed to do today.” Y/n sat up with a sigh.

“What do you eat?” Y/n didn’t respond. Carmen got up and came back a few minutes later with a plate of food. 

Y/n finished eating before walking inside and finishing up her actual work. The day ended and she was once again the last one left barring Carmen, who offered to drive her back.

As they both sat in the quiet car y/n spoke up, “I have to go back to New York.” Carmen’s grip tightened around the wheel.

“I said I would do better.” 

“I'm not leaving permanently, I need to grab my stuff and tell my landlord that I am leaving.” 

Carmen’s grip loosened, “You found a place here already?”

“I have a few candidates. I might have to leave in the afternoons for a few weeks to check out some places, I'll be back in an hour or two.” 

The rest of the ride was quiet, he dropped her off and y/n crashed into bed. 

__

Y/n had already been working for a few weeks when she came back to a dark restaurant. She walked in and saw Carmen and Fak talking, “ I thought you had a connection.” 

“Yeah, I definitely, definitely did not.” Which was followed by more whispering and then a loud, “Fuck” from Carmen. 

“What’s happening?” Carmen shot a look at Fak that sent him away and Carmen gave her a quick run down, the power was out and they needed 5,500 dollars to repair. 

“There isn’t any money in the budget but maybe if you finance…” Carmen looked around to check if anyone was there before directing her to his office. Y/n turned on her phone flashlight so they could see. 

“I’m going to ask you something, and it's completely hypothetical. Like not even a little bit true and you can tell me what the outcome would be.” Y/n nodded her head.

“Suppose we had a way to get the money but it wasn’t completely…legal…hypothetically. I'm not asking anything illegal because this is hypothetical… but what would happen to the books hypothetically?” 

“You can talk like a regular fucking person, you know, I'm not going to snitch. Do you need me to fix some books?” 

“I shouldn't have said anything.” Carmen started walking towards the door and y/n grabbed his shirt and pushed him towards the chair. He looked up at her and the phone light made her look like a prophecy discovered in a dream, so angel-like. Her words, not so much.

“You brother died so any fuck up that he did will result in us having to pay a fine which is not the end of the world, but if you fuck up… then thats malice and its jail time plus a fine…”

Y/n knew it was harsh so she softened her voice before uttering, “Let me help you, I want to help you.” Carmen was having a hard time focusing, she wanted to help him which means that she cared about him. Maybe her words were like an angel. 

“Is it a one time payment or is it…” Camen wasn’t responding, he was just looking up at her. Before she could ask what his problem was, he interrupted.

“I have to ask Richie.” Carmen peeled himself off the chair and opened the door for y/n. They walked to the front where y/n saw Richie and Fak were glaring at each other. Carmen and y/n took a seat.

“What is she doing here?” Richie said while not hiding his disdain for her. 

“She has to make this legal.” Carmen explained. 

Rcihie signaled for Carmen and Fak to come closer. “WHY DID YOU BRING A FUCKING NARC HERE?” Richie yelled into Carmen’s ears which made him reel back and clutch his ear. Y/n had to look away to hide her laughter. 

Carmen rushed to her defense, “She isn’t-”

“I won't. I'm just going to clean it up and we will never have to talk about it again.”

“We can’t trust her, why would you fucking bring her?” He asked Carmen who repeated what she said to him in the office about malice and jail. 

“I know you don’t trust me but I need this place running so that everyone here has a job next month. I don’t even need to know how you got it.”

Richie looked like he was thinking, before he threatened, “If you squeal i’m going to put your head on a fucking stick.” He looked like he was apprehensive but realized that this was the only way to protect Carmen so he had to risk trusting her. 

Y/n didn’t pay attention to their little squabble afterwards, but then the lights flickered on. They were back in business. Carmen slammed his palms on the counter and exclaimed a relieved, “Fuck” which made y/n short circuit for a second. It was nice to hear him happy for a change.

The rest of the day was spent creating fake receipts and adjusting inventory to account for the new money. It was busy work and after a long time, Carmen came into her office, it was her office for sure, squatters rights. 

“Are we good?”

“The IRS will be none the wiser…” Y/n said she wouldn’t ask but the curiosity was killing her.

“How did you guys get the money?”

“I don’t want to put you in deeper shit and this isn’t your scene.” He looked like he regret dragging her into his mess in the first place.

“Did you know when I was younger I used to shoplift.” Carmen looked at her with a raised eyebrow. 

“You don’t need to lie to-.” 

“I used to walk into stores and steal, I had the money to buy stuff but sometimes I just felt like taking something…so I did.” She wanted to be on an even playing ground as him so he wouldn’t hesitate to come to her in case something like this happened again. She couldn’t do her job if he hid stuff from her.

“You want to know what the most expensive thing I stole?” 

“I still don’t believe you stole anything.” He said with a laugh. 

“I stole someone’s wallet. It had $527 dollars and a bunch of credit cards, Ethan Thompson. Slid it right out of his pocket.” 

“What did you do with the money?” Carmen asked. Y/n debated lying but she thought honesty was how he would learn to trust her.

“I didn’t spend it, I waited outside till he came out and gave the wallet back. Told him that he dropped it. It was the only thing I ever gave back.” Carmen stared at her with a bewildered expression before laughing into his palm. 

“That seems like something you would do.” 

“Why do you say that?” Y/n was offended that he was insinuating that she was a loser.

“You are honest to a fault. Brutally honest.” 

“It's hard work but I try. Would you have returned it?” Carmen nodded his head. 

“Yeah, I bet you would have gone the extra mile and turned it into the police.”

A lull of silence passed and it was clear that Carmen wasn’t going to tell her so she switched topics. 

“I don’t want to be mean, but sometimes that's the only way I can get people to listen to me…I’ve been working on it.” 

Carmen didn’t want to be a smart-ass and say that he noticed a significant difference from her behavior towards him now compared to New York. She didn’t look like she was disgusted by him anymore. A bit of him wondered if he could change as effortlessly as y/n, she made it look so easy. 

“By the way…I'm going to take this office. Like it's mine now.” Carmen wondered if she was joking because she had a smile on her face.

“If you want it, take it. I never want to see another spreadsheet in my life.” If y/n smiled at him like that it would be nearly impossible for him to say no to anything. It was like finally getting her approval after working hard to get it in New York, like when he used to wake up early so he could walk in with her and open the door for her. 

There was a lull of and just as Carmen was going to fill it with a probing question y/n beat him to it. 

"Was it a murder-for-hire?" Y/n inquired, but Carmen remained silent, his expression unreadable.

"Sex work? Tax evasion? Robbery? Drugs?..." y/n continued, listing off possibilities, and in that moment, Carmen's lips tightened imperceptibly. It was a subtle movement, one that might have gone unnoticed by most, but for y/n, it was captivating, drawing her further into his enigmatic presence.

“Drugs.” She said with a slight smile,  

“I'm not admitting to anything. Did you find a place you liked?” Carmen wanted to distract her but he also wanted to keep her here longer and he finally had the confidence and momentum to keep her talking.

“I found one, it’s like 20 minutes from here. One-bedroom but it looks much better than my shit box in New York. And they are going to hold it for a while while i get my shit from back home” 

“What neighborhood?” Carmen’s heart leaped when she said the same neighborhood that he stayed in, but he controlled himself.

“That new building? I walk past it everyday.” Carmen didn’t offer to carpool because he didn’t want to hear a rejection. That would kill any confidence he might have gained in the last few weeks. 

“We're neighbors, that's nice. You have a car, can we carpool?” Carmen wondered if she could read minds. 

“I get here early and leave late-”

“I’ll just come and go when you do. I don’t have anything else to do in Chicago anyways…I booked a flight for tomorrow morning to get my stuff.” She moves fast Carmen thought. It was admirable how she knew what she wanted, planned her moves and executed them in record time. He wondered if she ever panicked and fumbled like he did, if she did he never saw it. 

“What time is your flight?”

“Seven” 

“I can drive you.” Y/n wondered if this was too much, she didn’t want to rely on him. 

“I’ll take a cab, you have to be here for Sydney.” She didn’t leave Carmen any room to argue. 

The next couple of months were much better than Carmen thought was possible. Y/n had engrained herself in their team, and Carmen was able to get his eight hours of sleep every night. They finally had enough money to not feel like the whole restaurant was going to crash and burn.

Sydney had brought up the idea of to-go orders placed through a tablet and after much deliberation and consulting with y/n, he decided to give it ago. 

Y/n had stepped out to sign for delivery and was making some pleasant conversation before she heard some commotion from the kitchen. She bid the delivery man a goodbye before walking in to see what the situation was. 

Y/n had never seen the kitchen in such chaos since her first day. Carmen's voice reverberated, barking out orders, while Sydney unleashed her own tirade upon Marcus for mishandling the cake cutting. Tension hung heavily in the air, thickening the atmosphere. It was clear to y/n that this wouldn’t end well. Jogging over to Sweeps, who thankfully wasn't completely overwhelmed, she learned that Sydney had messed up the to-go order settings, resulting in a barrage of pre-orders due within a few minutes. Y/n hesitated for a moment, positioning herself in a corner, desperately searching for a way to be of use amidst the chaos. With her limited culinary skills, she felt somewhat helpless, unsure of where she could provide the most assistance.

“Um, I’m doing them in five–” Sydney stuttered.

“No, no, stop. Fire everything right fucking now!”

“Step out.” He was interrupted by Sydney’s excuses.

“GET THE FUCK OFF MY EXPO, CHEF, NOW!” That made y/n jump, she heard him yell before but this was a lot worse, the shock made it impossible for her to look anywhere but the back of his head.  

Just as things looked like they couldn't get worse she heard a loud crash and saw two cakes on the floor. Y/n rushed over there to de-escalate and practically had to rip Sydney away from Richie.

“I said corner.” Richie said childishly. Y/n was starting to feel like a babysitter. And just as y/n was about to run over to her office to hide, she hears Sydney snap at Tina. Y/n guides Tina away from Sydney. 

“Somebody get me a fucking sharpie!” Carmen bellowed and y/n ran to the office and pulled out a few and placed them in front of Carmen then walked back to her little corner. She heard that Richie and Sydney were at it again, sensing that round two was going to be worse she had to go check on that mess. Sydney is harping on and on about how much of a loser Richie and y/n was forced to step in when she hears Sydney talk about Richie’s daughters while waving a knife. 

“What the fuck are you guys’ doing? We do not have the time for your asinine bullshit?” Sydney doesn’t even look over and y/n had to tug at Richie to get him to step down, normally y/n would appeal to Sydney’s good graces but she couldn’t go near her when she was waving a knife around. 

“Richie, why don’t we take a step back and-” y/n asked. 

“WHY ARE YOU FUCKING WITH ME!” Y/n turned her head and saw Carmen squishing something Marcus gave him before throwing it on the floor. 

“Yo, Cousin, just fuckin chill-” Richie stepped back and even when she saw where the knife was headed she was to slow to do anything. Richie walked into the knife and blood started pouring out. 

Y/n felt her breath pick up, her palms started to itch, and she was seeing double. She fought her nerves and led Richie to the front where Ebra would dress his wounds. Y/n didn’t want to look at Richie’s bare ass but she had to make sure it wasn’t bad enough to warrant a hospital trip, it didn’t and y/n saw that as a complete win. 

Y/n ran back to the kitchen towards Sydney where she was sitting near the lockers. She was about to leave. 

“We need you, you can’t leave. Tell me what I need to do to fix this.” Y/n desperate, she knew the face of someone who had given up and she saw it all over Sydney. 

“He is being a little bitch.” Y/n didn’t know how to fix Carmen’s attitude so she did the next best thing, stall.

“Please, give me a day to fix this. I’ll have him come around and apologize, I'll make him regret even getting out of bed. Just please stay till this blows over. We need you. Please.” Y/n was beyond desperate, she couldn't stand doing Carmen’s job of managing his team but she forced herself to pull through. Sydney backed down and went to the sink to wash her knife before going back to prep. 

Y/n hears Carmen walk over to Sydney and ask, “We good, chef?”, who wasn’t responding. This bastard was so incredibly dense y/n almost wanted Sydney to blow up in his stupid face and maybe stab him in the ass too but she denied herself that pleasure and quickly diverted Carmen over to the expo. 

“Now is not the time. Do this later… Please.” Y/n was grasping at straws here and she wasn’t even given the satisfaction of being able to yell at someone. Carmen went back to his expo but not before bending down and eating something off the floor. He has definitely lost it, y/n muttered. 

She went to find Marcus who was just about to leave. She thanked him for today and apologized on Carmen’s behalf. Y/n didn’t want to be a bitch but Marcus was not high on her priority list right now, him leaving would let her deal with less people and make her job easier. 

She ran out front to check up on Richie again. “Please tell me you're okay.” He gave a small laugh and then a grunt. She saw that he was grasping an empty carton of cigarettes. 

Y/n didn’t know how, but the storm passed and the doors opened for customers. Y/n slipped out and bought a carton of cigarettes and some painkillers from a nearby gas station and handed them over to Richie.

“I know this isn’t even a good enough apology but I’m really sorry about today.”

“You didn’t do anything.” 

“You're not going to get an apology from Sydney for a while so let my apology be a placeholder.” Y/n rounded her eyes and tried to see if there was any residual tension from this morning and to her relief Richie was fine. 

“Tell me if you need something.” She then went back to the kitchen and Sydney was still cutting stuff and Carmen was yelling out orders with less fury. Y/n wasn’t going to have anything positive to say to either of them so she would wait till after the lunch rush. She slipped back to the front and sat on a bar stool with her laptop. She couldn’t face either of the chefs right now. 

Looking at Sydney was difficult, and the longer that y/n waited out front with Richie to make sure he didn’t die of blood loss while manning the front, the more pissed she got at Sydney for not having the decency to come out to check up on Richie or even apologize. 

Looking at Carmen was even more difficult, a part of y/n wanted to be proven wrong about her previous notions about pretentious chefs. But both Sydney and Carmen were the only one’s screaming and that because they felt like they were entitled to it, that they were the only ones who were allowed to be stressed and upset. They were selfish and that was a painful thing for y/n to admit about Carmen because that meant that his promise to change when she first came here was a lie. He couldn’t handle any type of stress without flipping out and she wondered if this was even the right profession for him. 

The lunch crowd died down and she directed Sydney towards her office and shut the door, “You want to tell me what happened today?” Y/n faked the sincerity, Sydney wouldn’t talk if y/n was hostile.

“Carmen was being a dick. Everyone else is dealing with the same shit but now…” Y/n didn’t want to hear anything else for her. 

“How is Richie?” Y/n asked with a bit of an edge. 

“He walked into my kni-” 

“That’s not what I asked.” 

“I don’t know, okay? But it was his fault,” Y/n had to remind herself to take a few deep breaths, she wouldn’t let her anger get the best of her and she would refrain from yelling.

“When you finish with your shift, can you please talk to Richie, at least pretend like you care that you stabbed someone.”

“He called me a bitch and was all over my station, he deserved it, ” 

“You deserved to be called more than a bitch.” Y/n regretted the words as soon as they came out but she wasn’t going to lose face. Sydney looked shocked but y/n kept her face stoic.

“Talk to him.” 

Sydney didn’t respond but y/n knew she wouldn’t talk to Richie. 

Y/n felt her blood bubbling, “You could move to fucking Timbuktu and be a chef there and you still wouldn’t rise above average, do you know why?” Y/n didn’t give her a chance to answer. 

“It's because you are the problem, you are selfish and you don’t think. You can quit here and never look back and you know what is going to happen next? You're going to find another job and then leave that job and then find another job and leave that one too and keep doing that till you die.” It was getting harder for y/n to breathe. It felt like the walls were closing in. 

“I have been gracious enough to give you the space to grow, I told Carmen to make you sous but every second that I take my eyes off either of you, it's like shit hits the fan. Are neither of you capable of doing your jobs?” Y/n was ranting. 

“If today was so bad that you have to make someone else's life miserable and then whine about yourself, you shouldn’t even be allowed to work in soup kitchens.” Y/n took a painful deep breath, her head was spinning and she was suppressing the urge to start dry-heaving. 

“You will forever be nothing unless you change, you are impatient, selfish, whiny, annoying, vindictive, and…and..” Y/n had to end on a good note or else Sydney might actually quit. 

“..capable of doing better. I have seen the way you cook and manage a kitchen when it's not a shit storm. I bet in a few years you're going to make Carmen’s food taste like MREs. You are destined for good things but that will only happen when you grow up.” 

Sydney was quiet before she stomped out of y/n’s office and slammed the door shut. 

Y/n sank down onto the floor, her breaths coming in shallow gasps. It was as if she had been transported back to New York, constantly juggling her and her co-worker’s workload and assuming the role of the villain. She desperately sought control, but the grip of the panic attack tightened its hold, leaving her feeling vulnerable and exposed. Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision as she fought to regain control over her racing thoughts. It was an exhausting battle, one that felt all too familiar. She grasped at the chair trying to stay up right but after a few moments of dizziness, she slipped to the ground. 

She was keenly aware that she couldn't single-handedly orchestrate transformative change in just a few short months but she thought that Carmen would at least learn to step up. She longed for a sense of calm and it burned to know that Carmen was incapable of being that for her now. The knowledge weighed heavily on y/n's heart. The realization that Carmen, the one person she had hoped could offer her some semblance of stability and support because he said he would, was not yet equipped to be that pillar for her. It was a painful acknowledgement, one that underscored the inherent instability that defined their dynamic. Carmen was not stable. 

Y/n took a few deep breaths, wiped her tears, and stood up after pushing her sadness and disappointment with Sydney and, more importantly, Carmen in a deep crevice in her mind. 

The kitchen had lost two chefs but it was still running smoothly because it was a slow day. Y/n discreetly circled the kitchen, she made a conscious effort to conceal the fact that her blood was boiling, striving to maintain composure amidst the chaos.

And just as she was about to retreat to her office, the man of the fucking hour decided to show up. 

“Bad news guys, we have to close for dinner today because we are having a bachelor party in the front.” Y/n looked at a few sips of water, she needed to ground herself and resist throwing the cup of ice water in his face. Carmen glanced up at her and was met with the same eyes from New York, the ones which were glaring at him, disgusted with him, hated him. Y/n walked over to the alley and Carmen followed her even when she didn’t ask. 

Y/n indicated that he sat down with a pointed look with her eyes, y/n stayed standing. 

“I was hired to be your accountant, but today I was playing babysitter for a bunch of grown fucking adults. Why am I walking around your kitchen and apologising to your fucking staff while you do absolutely nothing.” She took a staggered breath.

"They were goddamn pre-orders, for crying out loud! If they were a little late, it's not like a customer would barge into the fucking kitchen to hang you. You guys have already had a C health rating and got into a fight with some customers a while back, so clearly customer satisfaction isn’t the issue.” The corners of her eyes were turning hazy. 

“Why the hell do other people have to clean up your damn mess? How hard would it have been for you to tell Richie to inform the customers that the orders were going to be a bit late?” Carmen didn’t look up, keeping his focus on y/n’s shoes. 

“Not fucking difficult at all, its like…like you wanted an excuse to be a prick.”

“Its your fucking entitlement, you are just like Sydney. You are selfish and you will never amount to anything unless you learn to deal with your problems. I mean this in the most blunt and sincere way possible: go to fucking therapy. If money's a problem, I'll foot the bill. I want you to go there and let them throw every damn thing they have at you, from drawing pictures to giving you a fucking lobotomy." Y/n’s face was getting hot and she could feel her forehead burn up.

“You are running a kitchen in a shitty neighborhood with people who would be happy if you served them insulation in between two pieces of drywall, it has never and will never be that serious.” Y/n gave herself some time to breathe before giving him a little bit more. 

“You’re the head of the kitchen, you're supposed to be everyone’s support. You have to be…s-stable.” It was difficult for y/n to choke out that word, it hurt too much. “Your team shouldn’t have to walk on fucking eggshells when things get tough.”

“You promised me that you would do better, that is the whole reason I chose to stay. Did you know that I was going to tell you that I changed my mind after I accepted your job offer? I didn’t because you promised you would be better…do better.” Y/n knew there was some stuff she missed but she was exhausted and wanted to go back. She uncrossed her arms and knew that it was time to do some damage control again.

They stayed in silence for a long time before y/n let out a deep sigh, “I'm sorry, it's just… today was a lot when it really didn’t need to be.” Y/n sat down right next to Carmen, she gave him a few inches of space, he still wasn’t looking at her. 

Carmen did well with praise y/n recalled, “You are a very talented chef and you are great at organizing a kitchen but that's very different from managing a kitchen with people in it.” A silence passed through them and y/n gave him the benefit of the doubt.

“Marcus was completely wrong and I don’t fault you for that. I know I would have done the same thing. What kind of idiot worries about donuts when everyone is asking you about cakes?”

“They were good.” Y/n almost missed it but she was glad she didn’t. That meant that she hadn’t completely broken him. 

“I bet they taste even better off the floor.” Y/n chuckled and even if Carmen doesn’t join her, he does pick his head up and look at her. The fact that she was still able to smile after ripping him to shreds was very reminiscent of many people in his life. He knew that she was probably right but he also knew that aspects of her criticism would keep him up at night for years to come

“Was I too much? ” Y/n asked.

“I needed to hear it…” Y/n let them stew in silence. 

“You need to find the root of your issues and fix them.” Y/n offered. 

“Are we good?” Carmen asked. Y/n was tempted to say yes so that they could move on but she had a feeling that was too easy for him. She worked hard today to be a force of stability and support for everyone and saying yes to Carmen’s question only comforted him. Y/n wanted to be comforted for once.

“No.” Carmen’s face betrayed his shock. 

“What can I do to fix it?” Carmen was desperate.

Y/n sighed before closing her eyes. Y/n didn’t respond because she didn’t know how either.  

Carmen felt a heat crawling up his chest, a sense of being trapped. He knew he could go back to Sydney, apologize, and promise to change, and they would be good. He knew that if he checked up on Richie, they would be good. He knew that if he swallowed his pride and prepared family dinner today, he would be in good standing with the rest of his team.

But Carmen was starting to realize that he didn’t really know enough about y/n to make this good. Carmen spent a lot of his time overthinking every minute detail of his life but no matter how hard he tried to come up with something to fix this, nothing seemed right. He couldn’t leave because he knew if he did that would be admitting defeat and that would ruin any friendship he earned with y/n but he couldn’t find the right words.

She couldn’t leave Carmen without it killing him. Her words echoed in his head and he tried to find a clue, something that would give him an opening to learn more about her so she wouldn’t leave the restaurant, leave him. 

“Why did you hate me? Back in New York.” It was a risk but it felt like his only option. Y/n parted her lips a few times, it was like she was formulating a response that wouldn’t hurt him. He didn’t need her to comfort him, he needed to comfort her.

“Don’t lie, y/n.”

“I didn’t hate you.” Y/n conceded. 

“Don’t bullshit me. The way you looked at me-”. Y/n didn’t know that she was being that obvious.

“You were…I don’t…” Y/n realized she had placed Carmen in an impossible situation by asking him to fix something without providing guidance, as she herself didn't know how to rectify her past mistakes without any guidance.

“I was really unhappy with my job and I thought that if I had someone, if I had you, we could stick together. We used to come and leave work at the same time, we were polite, you seemed like a nice guy. We could have helped each other out, I wanted so badly to have someone to rely on. It was selfish of me to put that pressure on you, I shouldn’t have done that…” That was the diluted version of the story, y/n was willing to take the blame for everything in New York but Carmen didn’t look satisfied, so she continued. 

“I used to hand you your paycheck and you never made eye contact. I didn’t even know your eyes were blue until I had been working there for two months.” Carmen locked his eyes on y/n’s.

“I would try to talk to you and you never responded, I didn’t even know what you sounded like. You called me a few months ago and I didn’t even know it was you because you never said a word to me. I used to think that you thought you were too good to talk to me.” Carmen fiddles with his finders and y/n had to tear her eyes away from his hand so she could focus.

“I worked hard for a while to get close to you but you clearly weren’t interested. I took the hint and backed off. The looks were…immature and stupid but I couldn’t help it…I hated my job and you were an easy target. It's easy to hate something you know nothing about.”

“Do you hate me now?” Carmen whispered. 

“Not anymore.” Y/n responded softly. 

Carmen's shoulders visibly relaxed as he heard Y/n's response. Relief washed over him, mingled with a renewed sense of hope. 

Carmen replied, his voice filled with sincerity. "I never wanted you to hate me. I just...you would look at me like that and it was one more reason that convinced me that I wasn’t fucking good enough for that job.”

Y/n had the daunting realization that she was one of the reasons why he left the French Laundry, why he left her. She felt extra guilt for yelling at Carmen for fucking up and being selfish when she did the same thing without knowing it. She blinked back some tears, she needed to hear this, even if it hurt. 

“I'm sorry, I was completely-.” 

“I used to be scared of you.” Carmen interrupted. Y/n sat up and raised an eyebrow.

“Why?” she asked in pure bewilderment.

“It felt like you were leagues ahead of me…it's like comparing an ant to…umm…” Carmen was struggling to spit something out, “divinity.” That made y/n widen her eyes and lean forward.

"I never saw you as beneath me, y/n. You were always on a higher plane, like we lived in different fucking planets." Carmen's voice held a touch of reverence, acknowledging the perceived disparity in their positions. 

“You were always so…perfect. I never saw you struggle. Even now, you pick things up fast, people like you, you are great at whatever you do, you never get mad for no reason.”

“People don’t like me and I did get mad for no reason, I just yelled at Sydney before I got to you.”

“We deserved it.”

"It wasn't my place. It's your kitchen, and I shouldn't have gotten involved." Carmen felt sick. She was distancing herself from the kitchen and from him. She was trying to run away and he couldn't let that happen.

“I wouldn’t have anything left if you left.”

“You would have been fine, you would have Sydney.” 

“But you…you…belong here. I can’t do this without you.” Carmen felt like she was slipping from his fingers and he was trying to grasp on to any part of her that he could convince to stay. 

“Give me a reason to stay, Carmen.” Y/n's whispered with a mixture of longing and uncertainty. She wasn't sure what words were left to be spoken, but she knew she had to say his name. Y/n wanted his name to swirl around her tongue, and imprint the feeling of his name leaving her lips. 

Y/n shifted her gaze, positioning herself to face him directly, and her eyes couldn't help but gravitate towards his slightly parted lips. It was clear that he had something to say, and she leaned in, eager to catch every word. In response, Carmen shortened the distance, drawn by the intimate proximity. It felt as if he was about to share a secret with her, a whisper that only they would hear.

With their faces mere inches apart, Carmen's right hand softly landed on the seat beside Y/n's thigh, subtly adjusting their positioning to align their faces. Y/n’s right hand began to rise, caressing his face tenderly. Y/n locked in with his cerulean eyes wondering if she was the only one feeling this. She tested the waters by running her thumb across his lips. They were a bit chapped from biting them all morning. 

Feeling the touch of Y/n's thumb on his lips, Carmen's breath caught in his throat. It was a gentle caress that sent shivers down his spine.

“We shouldn’t do this.” Y/n mumbled as she leaned in closer. 

Without breaking eye contact, Carmen reached up, gently cupping Y/n's face with his hand, his touch conveying tenderness and longing.

WIth a hoarse whisper, Carmen pleaded, “Kiss me, y/n.”

Y/n closed the gap and it was a collision of pent-up passion and aching yearning. Y/n's fingers tangled in Carmen's hair, pulling him even closer. Carmen’s thumb stroked y/n’s jaw and he couldn’t believe how soft her skin was. Their bodies pressed together, feeling the heat and intensity of their shared desire. Time seemed to stand still as they lost themselves in the sensation of each other. Every touch, every gentle nip of their lips, fueled the hunger that had been building between them for so long. It was a kiss filled with the weight of unspoken words. 

Carmen didn’t want to pull away because he wasn’t sure if he would ever get another kiss, he wanted this one to last. He didn’t want to regret 20 years in the future not kissing for a few moments longer. 

Y/n, breathless and in need of a moment to regain composure, pulled away from the kiss. Soft gasps escaped her lips as she tried to steady her racing heart. Carmen, caught in a blissful daze, found himself unable to flutter his eyes open. Carmen remained in a suspended state, savoring the lingering sensation of y/n's touch.

Carmen’s phone buzzed and that wasn’t enough to ground him. He felt like he was floating. If he didn’t move and really focused, he could convince himself that he was still kissing y/n. 

He felt y/n’s hand slid up his apron and trail up his leg. Carmen's breath hitched, his senses heightened, as anticipation swirled in the air. He sat still, nervous to do something like this in public but if y/n wanted him to do something he would do it in a heartbeat. He trusted y/n completely, willing to follow her lead without hesitation.

Finally, Y/n's hand reached its destination, and Carmen's pulse quickened. Y/n pulled something out—his phone. 

Confusion flickered across his features as he watched Y/n's playful expression. Y/n was teasing him, realizing the momentary tension she had caused. Carmen's anxiety gave way to relief, his lips curving into a smile of his own. He completely forgot about the buzzing so she answered the phone for him and brought it closer to his ear. He took the phone from her hands ensuring that their fingers grazed. It was a small, subtle gesture, yet it held the power to ignite sparks of electricity that danced along his skin.

“Yo, cousin. Where the fuck are you?” 

“Why?” Carmen wanted to stay with her for longer but Richie, being a gigantic cockblock, was ruining that for him. 

“You're out past your curfew. Why do you think?” Richie remarked sarcastically. “You still have a job, you can't just sit around in an alley like some kind of fucking sewer rat.” 

“Richie, I swear to fucking good if the kitchen is fine and you dragged me back there for no reason, im gonna stab your other ass cheek.” Carmen waited till Richie started to talk back before hanging up on him, he was being petty. Carmen saw that y/n tucked her lips to prevent a laugh from escaping.

Carmen sat wordlessly, not wanting to leave just yet. Y/n stood up and Carmen followed her. As they stood face to face, Y/n's hands instinctively brushed his hair back into place, fixing any stray strands. With gentle precision, she smoothed out the wrinkles on his shirt sleeves and straightened his apron.

Y/n's finger traced lightly across his lips a few times, and a mischievous smirk fell on her lips. "Your lips are going to be a problem," she teased, a twinkle of amusement in their eyes. Carmen's mind momentarily scattered, unable to fully focus.

"Y/n?" Carmen's voice wavered slightly, his thoughts still clouded by desire. 

Y/n, sensing his internal struggle, mustered a playful yet firm resolve. "Go back to the restaurant, I’m still mad at you." she gently nudged him toward the alley exit with an addictive smirk. 

Carmen blinked, trying to gather his thoughts amidst the haze of longing. 

"But when-" Y/n interrupted, her voice filled with anticipation. 

"I'll see you in just a few minutes."

As he busied himself with checking on Richie and apologizing to Sydney, Carmen didn’t miss how y/n slipped inside and walked into the office.

Carmen was still pissed at Richie, who was counting the money in the drawer as they were about to close early to do family dinner.

“Why even bother calling if the place is empty, you dick?” Carmen said in a huff.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt you sucking face with your new girlfriend.” Carmen’s jaw went slack.

“Carmy, you're so handsome.” Richie said in a hushed girly tone, mocking y/n’s voice. 

“How-” Carmen started.

“You left and y/n left and you both came back within 5 fucking minutes of each other.”  Carmen parted his lips trying to form a response. 

“You should learn to hide this stuff better. Your lack of girlfriends is catching up to you.”

__

End Notes:

This is purely experimental so I will most likely not write stuff like this in the future, but if people like it, who knows?

We can delude ourselves into thinking that Carmen would be boyfriend material, but he most definitely isn't. I wanted to write something with an unreliable y/n who complains that Carmen has all these anger issues, is domineering, doesn't listen to people, is controlling, is selfish, is extremely unstable, etc. However, she is exactly the same; she just doesn't realize it.

At the end of the day, Carmen meshes well with people who are similar to him, which is why he is close with Sydney and sometimes Richie (their shared love of Michael and The Beef). I wanted to write something where he pursues someone who has similar flaws as him. I guess it's up to you guys to figure out if it's the start of personal growth on both ends or if it's a doomed romance.

Part 2

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy x reader #carmy x you #carmy #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto #carmy the bear #the bear #the bear fic #carmen berzatto x y/n #carmen carmy berzatto #the bear x reader #the bear hulu #the bear imagine #carmen berzatto imagine #carmy berzatto x you #carmy berzatto imagine #jeremy allen white #jeremy allen white imagine

[beansprean]

I forgot to put these on tumblr lol! These romcom posters were made as an 'anonymous' gift for returnofthelu for the 2023 Halloween Exchangeapalooza! Check out all the entries on AO3 here!

These are also avail as posters, prints and stickers on my RedBubble!

Support me on Patreon or send a tip on Kofi!

(ID in alt and under cut)

1. Movie poster based on Practical Magic, with the title in the top center and the names Guillermo de la Cruz and Nandor the Relentless along the top. Nandor is close up in the center, face worried and thrown into harsh shadows by candlelight. Guillermo is just behind him, staring determinedly at the viewer with a stake raised. Nandor's left hand is held out behind him, the back of it pressed to Guillermo's chest as if to hold him back. In the foreground in front of them is a cluster of lit candles and the silhouettes of dozens of bats flying past. A tagline reads 'for a vampire with a lifetime of heartbreak, falling out of love is the trickiest spell of all.' Text at the bottom says 'a beansprean production.'

2. Movie poster based on While You Were Sleeping, with the names Guillermo de la Cruz and Nandor the Relentless along the top. Close up of Nandor in his super slumber robes, eyes half open, drooling and looking barely awake, head surrounded by question marks. Guillermo, a vampire, is beaming and hugging him around the neck from behind, a smear of blood on his cheek. The title 'While You Were In Super Slumber' lays across them in white with the tagline 'a story about love at second sight.' Text at the bottom says 'a beansprean production.'

3. Movie poster based on The Wedding Planner, with the names Guillermo de la Cruz and Nandor the Relentless along the top with the tagline 'a romantic horror comedy about love, wishes, and other events you just can't plan for.' Waist up of Guillermo and Nandor on a background of white roses dripping with blood, pooling and staining at the bottom. Guillermo is leaning heavily against the bottom of the poster with both elbows, one hand holding up his face as he stares blankly into the middle distance, tired beyond belief with dark circles beneath his eyes. Nandor is leaning into him from behind, one arm propped on his shoulders and holding a pen while he gestures vaguely. The other hand is holding up a notebook. Nandor, also with dark circles beneath his eyes but with a more manic expression, is looking upward and appears in the middle of reciting some new list of demands. The title 'The Wedding Planner' is scrawled over the top of them in fancy font. Text at the bottom says 'a beansprean production.'

4. Movie poster based on Pretty Woman, with the names Guillermo de la Cruz and Laszlo Cravensworth along the top. The title 'Pretty Vampire' is printed vertically on the right side with the tagline 'he flew into their lives, off the balcony, and needed medical attention.' In the center, Laszlo floats midair, facing left with one hand in his pocket. He is wearing a black suit with a patterned purple waistcoat and embroidered loafers. He is wrenched backward with a shocked and angry expression, bent almost in half, as Guillermo grabs onto his tie from behind. Guillermo, wearing a pink and red patterned sweater, black chinos, and black boots, is flailing midair, held up only by his death grip on Laszlo's tie as he pumps his legs back and forth in an effort to regain flight. His eyes are wide and panicked, teeth clenched together, and there are shadows of bat wings at his back. Text at the bottom says 'a beansprean production.'

5. Movie poster based on The Vow, with the names Guillermo de la Cruz and Nandor the Relentless along the top. Nandor and Guillermo are facing each other in profile, intimately close and with their foreheads pressed together, smiling gently and staring into each other's eyes. Nandor has his hands on Guillermo's hips and Guillermo has one hand on Nandor's waist and the other tucked around the back of his neck. Several top buttons of Guillermo's shirt is open, and there is blood staining the collar and dripping sluggishly from two holes on his throat. Blood is also smeared around Nandor's mouth and chin. The title 'The Vow' is overlaid with the tagline 'his word is their bond'. Text at the bottom says 'a beansprean production.'

6. Movie poster based on The Breakup, with the names Guillermo de la Cruz and Nandor the Relentless along the top. Nandor and vampire Guillermo are both sitting up on either side of a massive king-sized coffin with a double lid. A line of duct tape runs down the adjacent wall and divides the coffin down the middle. On the left, Guillermo, hair a mess and wearing a blue striped pajama set, sits with his knees to his chest, hugging his balled-up corner of their shared comforter to his chest and glaring off to the side, away from Nandor. On the right, Nandor, wearing a loose cream blouse, sits pouting with his arms crossed, glaring over at the side of Guillermo's head. The title over their heads says 'the break-up' with the tagline '…pick a side.' Text at the bottom says 'a beansprean production. coming on a sheet near you November 2023.'

7. Movie poster based on Failure to Launch, with the names Guillermo de la Cruz and Laszlo Cravensworth along the top. Full body of Laszlo and Guillermo as Laszlo, wearing a burgundy and pink suit, cheerfully pushes Guillermo across the screen from behind, grinning at the viewer. Guillermo, wearing a teal and brown patterned cardigan, beige chinos, and boots, is leaning back into Laszlo, body fully straight and rigid, digging his heels in as they scrape along the ground. He looks anxious and terrified, hands up in front of him as if to protect him from whatever he's headed toward. The title above their heads reads 'failure to launch' with the tagline 'to leave the nest, some fledglings just need a little push.' Falling down from the title is a little black and orange bat, a dotted line following it down as it fails to fly upward. Text at the bottom says 'a beansprean production.'

8. Movie poster based on 10 Things I Hate About You, with the title '10 Things I Ate Instead of You' large in the right center of frame with the names Nandor the Relentless and Guillermo de la Cruz above and below it, respectively. A tagline along the top reads 'how do I resent thee? let me count the ways'. In the center is Nandor from knees up, curled in an armchair with his knees tucked to one side, his left arm resting on the chair arm and his right elbow braced on the other to play idly with his hair. His expression is a practice in aloofness, looking off to the side. Behind him stands Guillermo, left arm leaning against the back of the chair and right elbow braced to lean his head against his hand. He stares longingly at the side of Nandor's head, face flushed and lips pressed together nervously. Text at the bottom says 'a beansprean production.'

9. Movie poster based on You've Got Mail, with Guillermo and Nandor. Their names are listed at the top. They are walking casually toward the viewer on far sides of the image, looking off to the side away from each other with dreamy smiles, ignorant of the other's presence. Nandor is wearing a brown and gold belted tunic and boots, twiddling his fingers together. Guillermo is wearing black boots, gray chinos and vest, and his trenchcoat, a stake loose in his hand as it swings at his side. The background is blurry green and white, shadows stretching out in front of them. Between them, a tagline reads 'Someone you pass on the street may already be the love of your afterlife.' and then the title 'You've Got Mail' beneath. 'Text at the bottom says 'a beansprean production.' /end ID

#wwdits #nandermo #laszlermo #romcom #exchangeapalooza #mlm #guillermo de la cruz #nandor the relentless #laszlo cravensworth #what we do in the shadows #what we do in the shadows fx #my art #fanart #image described #the super slumber one is not avail in rb right now bc its under copyright review lmao #but im sure it will pop back up in a few days

[vidavalor]

(Non-Frozen) Peas. A Good Omens Sex Meta Thing Side Dish

Shorter little vegetable-themed side dish to Crepes, which you do not have to have read first. All by way of Aziraphale's dirty French in S2 about how he has a craving for Crowley's Eden.

*slips into GO fandom quietly* *whispers*

Do you all realize that another translation of Aziraphale's "Ou est la plume de la jardiniere de ma tante?" is...

"Where is the feathered garden box of my queen?"

I probably don't need to tell you that both 'garden' and 'box' are sexual euphemisms for lady parts and, to make matters funnier, remind you of this scene earlier in the season, in which a literal box became related to... well, it's somewhat open to interpretation so let's just call it a gasp-worthy, part-related situation. :)

"Where is the feathered garden box of my queen?" is Aziraphale saying that it's been a minute since he worshipped Lady Crowley and he misses her.

This would account for Aziraphale's impish "but you understood me" and flirty little smile and wiggles. He's so cute about it that Nina comes out of her coffee shop to try to hear what they're talking about that's made the bookseller look so alive and has Snarky Sunglasses all flustered.

Crowley's "Only because, for two hundred and fifty years, you've been wittering on about the plume of your imaginary 'tante.'" = "Only because, ever since you took French lessons the human way, I've had to listen to you euphemistically referring to my occasional wild flower garden and calling me your queen in two different languages and I love to hate how much I absolutely love it."

We know that Crowley did understand Aziraphale and not just because he also speaks French but because his traditional choices in translating it back to Aziraphale in protest-- "you don't have an aunt, she doesn't have a gardener and he doesn't have a... pen"-- is intentionally a bit incorrect because Aziraphale used the feminine French word for 'gardener'-- la jardiniere-- in his sentence. As a result, Crowley is protesting that "the gardener" is a he right now, Aziraphale, and he doesn't have a-- pause of 'wait, this isn't going to work if I translate 'plume' as 'feathers'-- euphemistic or literal-- as I have both so I'll go with the other thing the word means instead'--... pen.

(Which winds up even funnier since a pen is phallic and euphemistic, in this sense, for currently having a penis, which is actually Crowley's current state of effort in that moment. Hold those thoughts until we get to turnips and inkwells down below lol.)

A 'plume' in French is a pen, a feather, a quill, and a cloud of rising smoke. In Good Omens, it's also used in the smoke-like definition by Michael to describe the pink plume of magical energy that came from the bookshop when Crowley and Aziraphale miracled together. Crowley responded with 'pen'-- which is a riff on the fact that Aziraphale is riffing on "la plume de ma tante", a cliched line said derogatorily to mean 'those sentences that you learn when you learn a new language that you'd never say in real life.' Crowley used 'aunt', 'gardener' and 'pen' as the translation in reference to the cliche Aziraphale was referencing. Aziraphale, though, adjusted the line, as we saw-- adding words to it to make it a stealth, flirty request-- and Crowley did hear the innuendo. Crowley correctly heard Aziraphale using 'plume' in the 'feather' sense (hilariously, considering that they have actual feathers in their angel/demon forms lol), with the 'feather'-context 'plume' being euphemistic for Crowley keeping it real down below.

(It could be worse, Crowley. He could be in a blasphemous mood and referring to it as "The Burning Bush"... which I feel like you'd actually find hilarious but anyway, moving on...)

In English, appropriated from the French, a 'jardiniere' is a flower box/garden planter. 'Tante' is French for 'aunt' but it's also a word meaning both 'queen'/'pansy' in the queer sense of the words (a 'pansy' also being a kind of flower, of course, adding to the Eden motif that "*the* Southern Pansy" Aziraphale has going on for his gardener partner here) but 'tante' is also one of the words that just means 'queen' as well, in the 'regal' sense of the word. It might not be the first word Aziraphale would use if he were, instead, speaking a sentence in French about, say, Queen Camilla-- but it's maybe a more appropriate one for flirting with his gender-everything partner by telling him in French that it's been too long since he spent some quality time with his queen's jardiniere.

'A la jardiniere' is also a French cooking term. It translates as "in the manner of the gardener's wife" (Gabriel: "Whatever that is."). It is obviously an archaic-sounding term when it comes to gender but, for the purposes of metaphor here, it's actually a little useful. The phrase is born out of the idea that the chef would be male, straight and married and that his wife would be keeping their kitchen garden-- which, even though she was probably running it, is credited to him, because the patriarchy-- from which fresh vegetables could easily be picked and used in a dish. As such, it's a lot more fun that Aziraphale is using the French here because the actual gardener doing the garden work in the definition of 'jardiniere' is specifically female by the term's description, so it's another way to reference Crowley's femininity.

There's also, of course, that "in the manner of the gardener's wife" is about as porny a definition for a phrase that can possibly be translated from one language to another lol and so adds to the idea of 'jardiniere' being sexually euphemistic. Atop that, there's the fact that the word itself relates food to romance and sex by referring to the chef and the gardener as married in its definition. The second half of this scene is the Nina & Crowley "partners" conversation. In a season that has Crowley and Aziraphale unable to deal with words like 'couple' and 'partners', if only Maggie and Nina understood that maybe they don't know how to use traditional words but damned if Aziraphale isn't already on covertly calling Crowley his spouse when flirting with him.

While 'a la jardiniere' is a cooking term, 'la jardiniere/jardiniere' is also a French food term. It is a side dish or a garnish of mixed vegetables, usually spring garden vegetables. So, carrots, green beans, potatoes (Crowley: "You say 'potato', I say 'excellent'" lol), turnips (Aziraphale can turn garden variety sex into inkwells!-- haha 'garden' pun, get it? please send help-- and inkwells are the things one dips a quill pen into.... and, now, we're back to the 'pen' translation of 'la plume...').

The most signature vegetables of jardiniere, though, are peas.

As Crowley would tell Shax and anyone who will listen, literal ducks-the-water-fowl need not get their actual jardiniere defrosted.

Aziraphale-- the more discerning duck-- likes his hot, though.

~~~

If you have not already and would like to read more meta like this:

#ineffable husbands #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #good omens 2 #good omens meta #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #good omens s2 #genderfluid crowley

[spilledkaleidoscope]

I really like your DE portraits artstyle! Do you have any tips on how to replicate it?

I THINK I've written about it before, but since I am too lazy to look for it...

There is some variation between how the portraits are done - I tend to refer to the Smoker, Glen, Titus and Trant in terms of style.

I think the most characteristic things about these is

Sketchy lines with bold shadows (think nose, neck, eyes). I usually have a brush that responds to pressure (size of brush) and velocity (faster: more transparent; combined with texture this allows me to add a bit of "crunch" if I want to)

noticable difference in detail between face and the rest of the figure

more painterly, often geometric background

color variation! Make your primary painting brush a flat one that has color jitter enabled. I change the settings around as I draw for more variety. It helps if you have a setup where you can make the tip of the brush rotate with your pen (I've had this since december and its very nice).

This also goes for your palette in general. The DE Portraits tend to use lots of different colors even in things that read as grey or white. For example, if you look at the Hanged Man Portrait, his grey skin is actually desaturated purple, yellow, green and blue. There is little to no mixing going on here, so what I do is make a little mixing palette and then just eyedropper colors from there. ALSO don't be afraid of saturated colors and color contrasts! Liz' portrait is done a bit differently than a bunch of others, but the green highlights are notable.

Finish up by coloring some of your lineart or painting over it in places to make it more lively. I feel like the less put together a character is, the more abstract the portrait becomes (I'm thinking of Idiot Doom Spiral or Cuno's Father) (Harry is the exception I guess) (Unless you are like me and refused to look into the mirror LOL)

Hope this is helpful! I learned this by doing some studies, including the Disco Sapphic portraits that are rather slight variations of existing portraits.

buuuut I feel like my "freehand" portraits have become competent too:

#askbox #art asks

[bigratsdeservebigpats]

Overblot Victims witnessing Yuu finally having enough of the overblots and stuff happening in the school that they basically scream into Crowley's face how sick and tired they are of seeing everyone, including themselves and the victims, suffer because of Crowley's irresponsibility.

These are so fun to write lol

It’s exhausting. 

Surely, if Yuu had magic, they would have overblotted themselves. It’s cruel to say they wish they could, that all their pain could be condensed into a single little rock and thrown into the ocean or the gaping maw of their cat, and all their troubles and worries would disappear. But they were the magicless prefect, and the Perfect Scapegoat. Because without that physical manifestation of anger and pain and suffering, they would never be heard. Because without consequences, actions wouldn’t matter. 

Like ink, these angers stain them. Like tar, they are dragged further by sticky, viscous threats. Like a black hole itself, they cannot escape, stretched impossibly thin where even their screams come out as a warbled, compliant, yes. 

Dorm meetings are incredibly, irrevocably important to the health of the students, as it is how the principle makes decisions that would best suit the student body, so it must be no wonder that everyone has suffered. For a man who’s very office gives him a view of the entire school, his mask must function more as a blindfold. 

For once, everyone is present for the dorm meetings. How this is possible? It’s because Yuu had to make sure everyone got their invites and arrived on time. The only one who physically and spiritually could NOT show, was Kalim, who was redoing an alchemy final he had failed. Therefore, Jamil would take his place. 

So all the dorms are here, even Malleus who they had to remind constantly, and Leona, who they physically had to drag. Everyone is here except one bastard. One bird brained, cackling motherfucker, who had decided that Yuu had enough time on their hands to deal with this VERY IMPORTANT FACTOR OF HIS OWN JOB.

They wouldn’t handle this treatment anymore. They couldn’t. There was already so much on their plate. They needed to keep their HOUSE from collapsing, they needed to reshape their entire perspective on what was possible to pass the most basic of tests, they needed to babysit a rampant, selfish … thing, they needed to worry about whether they would even have enough thaumarks to even eat, and now?

Even if ink does not flood the room, or fire does not singe the ground, the dorm leaders can feel the air thicken, the very atmosphere sinking over them with unparalleled pressure. No one can speak, let alone breathe as Yuu’s fingers drum the hollow surface of the desk. Their anger rolls off them in thick, misty waves, and when they finally stand, all eyes turn to them. “I’ll go fetch Dire Crowley myself then.”

“Prefect, I’m sure we can start without-” Azul is the first to jump in. This isn’t the first time he’s bartered with someone, so hopefully he can de-escalate the citation, but his words are instantly shot down. 

“I just wanna talk to em.” They grab a fountain pen off the desk, pricking their finger over the edge a few times. Malleus gulps. 

“W-Why do you have that pen.” Jamil is the one to jump up, he knows when someone is about to do something that may or may not have horrible consequences, but he is definitely not going to jump in the way of the steel nub. This was a different citation than trying to reason with Kalim. 

“I just wanna talk to em.” Yuu repeats, testing the swing of their pen before making a beeline to the door. Idia’s tablet flies out of the way with a squeal, but a few of the dorm members aren’t as cowardly. 

“This is ridiculous-” Leona starts, rubbing his temples at the sheer insanity of it all.

“I just wanna talk to em.”

“Put that pen away!” Riddle has dealt with annoyances and threats and all sorts of stresses, but this isn’t one of those hollow, tasteless messages. He could understand the feeling, but really, what were they gonna do with the pen against the head of NRC? He worried more about Yuu doing something stupid than anything. “What is- wh-what are you doing?”

“I just wanna talk to em.” The door slams with a deafening blow that rattles the very floor they stood. In the silence left behind, the dorm members share a knowing, worried glance before scurrying after like rats. 

-+-

The french doors that block off Crowleys office are ornate, drenched in a dreamy purple and highlighted with seven golden starlike symbols, the door handles meet together in three circles, oddly reminiscent of a certain mouse in their mirror. One of the more impressive parts had to be the door knocker, which was entirely unnecessary seeing as it led to a single, empty room.

Most people disregard it, but this time, Yuu disregarded knocking at all because he lost the respect and the dignity that basic humans deserved. 

Playing cards flew up like scattering crows, feet propped on the desk suddenly crossed neat and tidy on the ground. “Why if it isn’t the Prefect! I thought you would be hard at work collecting notes at the meeting!” 

His laughter fell on deaf ears, crossing the needlessly large space to the other side of his desk. “Get out of that seat. Stand up. Stand the fuck up.”

“Y-yes? Is something the matter? I’m a bit busy at the moment-!” Playing solitaire, that is. Brandishing the sharp nib of the fountain pen was enough to get him out of the way. He certainly didn’t expect the Prefect to sit down and prop their own feet on the desk. “And just what are you doing!”

“I’m the fucking principal now. Get out of my office you useless sack of shit and feathers.” The pen broke down on the desk, embedding itself in the center of the mahogany surface. Even if the poor table couldn’t scream, Crowley would do the honors. 

“That table is as old as the school! Crafted by the most talented of woodworkers! By the most grand and wise of trees!”

“Yea well now it’s my goddamn footrest. Are you deaf or just stupid? I’m the principal. Get out of my office. I’m gonna make this place as decrepit as the shitty ruins I live in.” Yuu leaned back, spinning in their seat to face the unkept image of the one and only, Dire Crowley. 

“And just who made you principal? This is a direct violation of-”

“I got rid of that rule, then. And it was voted on at the Dorm meeting.” They spun again, picking up one of the cards still on the table. The Joker. How fitting.

“That couldn't have-”

“And how would you know?” Eying the yellow divots in his mask, Yuu didn’t bother to let him speak. “You weren’t there. You don’t listen to your students. You don’t care about their health or their mental wellbeing. You talk as if you are the kindest ever, yet the Blots that are supposed to be rare, happen every month. Every single month, and you know why? It’s your negligence, and your lack of teaching and your shitty, greedy ideals. You are the denominator!”

“Yuu! Just what is the meaning of this behavior! I will not tolerate-” He leaned over the seat, so close that the edge of his crow mask threatened to gouge a part of their face out. 

“Tolerate? Oh, you wanna talk tolerating?!” They stood again, forcing the pen out from its upright position in the table to prod it against his chest, leaving black stains on his clothing. “Do you know what I have to deal with because of you?? Do you know what I lost and might never get back because of you?!? I can’t see my family anymore! I can’t see my friends anymore! They don’t even know if I’m okay or heck, even alive, and you in all your kindness, in all that slimy, filthy, fake gratuity, take advantage of it! You treat me like a servant, and then say that you are the one doing me a favor!”

The pen snaps, spilling ink down the front of his shirt. 

“If you really want this place to improve, then you’ll get the fuck out of here. But I know you won’t. I know that you won’t leave until it’s beneficial for you. So you know what? I’m gonna overblot. I’m gonna destroy everything until there’s nothing but crumbs for you to pick at, because that might be the only way you’ll ever learn.” They drop the pen, smearing the leaking ink off their hand with the leather of his fancy chair. He can take everything done today as collateral damage.

The door opens, and there stands several dorm leaders, who awkwardly back away to let Yuu pass. It’s obvious they’ve followed the Prefect from the beginning, and heard everything, but there wasn’t exactly a moment that could burst in, or needed to for that fact. 

Grim was right, Yuu goes for the jugular.

#RatWrites #twst wonderland #yuu #twst imagines #twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #overblotters #overblot #riddle rosehearts #riddle #leona #leona kingscholar #azul #azul ashengrotto #jamil #jamil viper #vil shoenheit #vil #idia shroud #idia #malleus draconia #malleus

[drurrito]

I wrote this fairly quickly bc my crim prof is painfully hot and I am suffering as a result. All mistakes are mine.

Pairings: LawStudent!Reader x LawProfessor!Wanda

Warnings: like one cuss word lol -- reader's age is not specified and neither is Wanda's at this point -- if you want to be a K-thru-JD, be my guest.

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

You’re staring at the heavy wooden door in front of you. Your eyes trace over the markings, this building is your favorite on campus because of the architecture. It was once a grand library in the late 1800s and now it holds most of your 1L classes. It’s also home to the office of your Criminal Law Professor whom you’re supposed to be meeting with in a few seconds.

You let out a long exhale as you stare at your watch. You try to ignore how sweaty your palm is as you clench your hand into a fist to knock on the door.

“Come in,” your professor’s voice is calm, with no hint as to why you were summoned to her office in the first place. It came through an email yesterday afternoon after class. You blinked at your screen while your friends teased you about being in trouble. 

Are you in trouble?

You step into her office and she’s sitting at her desk writing something down. 

“You wanted to see me, Professor Maximoff?”

“Yes,” she sets down her pen, “can I get you anything? Water? Tea?” She gives you a warm smile that would normally disarm anyone but it only makes you stiffen with nerves.

“No thank you, professor. I’m good.”

“Sure," she leans back in her chair and gives you a serious look that makes you flinch, "what did you think of the lesson yesterday? Any questions?”

Did she really call me in here to talk about yesterday’s lesson?

“No, professor, none that I can think of. Inchoate crimes seem pretty straightforward,” you nervously nod and her lips twitch into a smile.

“I look forward to reading your analysis on it for tomorrow’s discussion board then.”

“I’m just about done with it,” you breathe, it was the truth. You know you won’t see your class ranking until after your first year of law school but it seems to already be obvious to everyone that you’re top of the class. It’s not by luck, you've always had to work harder than everyone else to get where you needed to be. It does help that you’ve wanted to go to law school since you were a child. Now that you’re here, everything just clicks.

“Y/N,” Profesor Maximoff’s voice makes your eyes snap to hers. Her usually bright shade of hazel eyes are now much, much darker.  

“You’re a good student, you know that right?"

That makes you clear your throat, “thank you, professor, I’m just trying to make the most of this opportunity — it’s pretty busy at times.”

“You must be too busy to realize how you come across as well.”

“I’m sorry?” You have to ask to make sure you heard her correctly. 

“You realize this is the first time you’ve held eye contact with me for more than three seconds?" She crosses her arms and that makes you tense even more.

“You’ve been counting?”

“At some point, yes. It’s like clockwork," she unfolds one arm to frame her face and you can't help but appreciate her jawline and the perfectly manicured finger that's tapping away at her cheek.

You have to look away and take a breath. You feel like an idiot for having such obvious tells. Of course, if Sam and Bucky can clock your nervous habits, Professor Maximoff can too.

“You don’t let your eyes land on me for too long, they bounce around the room a lot, like right now.”

Your eyes fall on her again, but this time you make it a point to hold it for as long as you can physically bear it.

“I’m sorry, Professor. I’m not rude, just shy at times. I can see how that comes off as standoffish.”

“It’s okay,” she gives you a nod with a smile. It’s the same combo she gives during her lectures. You only know this because you’re its number-one fan. Your jaw reflexively drops but you quickly pick it back up before she notices.

“You know,” she slides out of her plush leather chair and saunters out from behind her desk, “at first I did think you were just rude.”

She shrugs for a beat before stepping closer to you, “but then I think about how often you hold the door for me.”

And closer.

“And how you say ‘good morning’ or ‘good afternoon’ whenever you pass me on campus.”

And closer.

“Now, it all makes sense.”

Your cheeks begin to burn, you want to step back to give her space but she’s already a breath away from you by the time your brain can form the idea.

“Y/n.”

“Yes, professor?”

“Do you like me?”

Fuck.

She asks it so innocently you almost forget where you are. You're not two people casually exploring each other's fascination with one another. You're not on some kind of date, she’s your professor and you’re just a 1L. She watches your throat squirm as you swallow. Your mouth is now bone dry. 

“I…it’s--just a little crush, yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, professor,” you respond so quickly and she hums in praise. Something pulls deep in your belly but you don’t have any time to figure out what it is before Professor Maximoff speaks again.

“Just a little?”

She leans impossibly closer to you. Your eyes don’t have a single corner to escape to, your breathing is shallow and sporadic. 

“Yeah.”

She doesn’t correct you this time and you can’t help but feel a heavy pang of want. You watch a smirk stretch across her face and you feel like prey that’s about to fall victim to--

“That’ll be all, y/n—please close the door on your way out.”

She backs away before you do, turning on her heel to sit at her desk just the way you found her.

You stand there dumbly nodding for a moment. She subtly raises an eyebrow in your direction and that’s when your limbs begin to move towards the door. You quietly shut the door behind you before slumping against it, air filling your lungs once again. You shake off whatever you're feeling and head home, still trying to wrap your head around what just happened. 

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x you #marvel fanfic #works

[celerydays]

Hey! I came across your blog and I was just wondering if you'd mind sharing where you get the inserts you're using for your new Filofax set up? thanks! :)

Hi there~ Of course I'd be willing to share! 🥰

I'm using downloadable printables from [Peanuts Planner Co.] and printing them on [these precut and pre-hole punched personal sized inserts]

However–! I'm very picky about my paper, and this paper is only just ~sort of okay~ for fountain pen imo (and I'm not willing to give up my Pilot Vanishing Point pen or De Atramentis Document Ink in "Urban Grey" for anything lmao).

I'm actually looking into buying some Cosmo Air Light or Tomoe River Paper personal inserts from [Paper Penguin Co.] once they come back from their break! I've gotten some TN inserts from them previously and quite liked them so I think I'll be pretty satisfied once I get my hands on better paper 🤌

Then one of my favorite things for my planner so far is actually these project manager inserts from Plotter [here's links for them from the Plotter USA site as well as from Atlas Stationers].

I'm currently using one to contain all my project and style guide notes for the fancomic I'm drawing and another is being used to hold all my notes, ideas, and product doodles for my plans to delve back into some light freelancing for 2024.

I hope this helped! Peanuts Planner Co. digital printables have been my go-to for years whenever I find myself in ring planners, but I've only just started trying out precut/pre-punched inserts to print on for the first time which has saved me a ton of hassle and has sorta let me overcome my laziness when it comes to planner setup a bit lol 💗

#ask #moniire #cel journals #filofax #filofax setup #commonplace book #planner #bullet journal #bujo #notebooks

[gracie7209]

Amaryllis Epilogue

Pairing: Frankie x f!Reader

Word Count: 1.8K

Warnings: Fluff, fluff, fluffy-fluff, reflection- (of more than one sort? I’m on one today. Don’t mind me lol), happiness, loved ones, we get to meet Reader’s momma! (Her English isn’t great so we will see her and Reader speaking Spanish) tiny sliver of angst? Lemme know if I forgot anything!

Summary: Just before your lives are set to change yet again, you and Frankie each get a moment alone to reflect on how life has brought you to where you are now. Santi saves the day yet again!

A/N: Guys…… This is it! We have officially officially reached the end of this story and I’m a whole mess of emotions. The has been such a labor of love and learning for me. It’s my very first fic and also the very first piece of writing I have ever shared with anyone. As previously mentioned, I have several new WIPs and I cannot WAIT to get to work on them! For everyone who has commented, liked, reblogged, asked questions or shown even the tiniest bit of love for my little story, I just want to thank you with everything I have. I have wanted to write since I was little, but could never put pen to paper until I forced myself to write a little 100 word Drabble, which literally turned into this series. The Pedro fandom alone has literally changed my life in so many ways and I will forever be grateful. So anyways....... Thank you all so much!!!!

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

When he sees himself in the mirror, Frankie is all nerves.

Checking and rechecking his hair, making sure his tie isn’t crooked… worrying the little patch in his scruffy beard that refuses to fill in.

His palms are sweating and his stomach is doing flips, but he’s unbelievably HAPPY.

He never thought he would be here. Never thought he would ever want to be doing this, but you had changed his way of thinking in more ways than one.

It had always terrified him to feel as though he were tied to something. Or so he thought…

In reality, he never felt he was worth enough for someone to ever want to be tied to him. The things he had done, the horrors he’d seen? The nightmares he still endured would run off anyone who might be even the slightest bit interested. Damaged…

Valid.

He was damaged. There was no way to come out from that other side and not be. But to those who weren’t there? Ones who could never understand what he’d been through? They would only pity him and he didn’t want that.

He just wanted understanding. Wanted someone to accept him as he was, without trying to fix him.

And then there was you. You never looked at him like he was damaged. You knew about things and yet you never held anything against him. You knew the atrocities he’d seen and those he had committed, yet you never backed away from him or looked down on him.

From the beginning, Frankie felt a connection to you. He didn’t know what you’d been through at the time, but there was an understanding there - “We’re not defined by our experiences Frankie,” you’d tell him.

“We simply learn from our mistakes, grow into better people, and if we are genuine, that’s all that really matters. —You yourself told me something similar at one time, remember?”

Frankie smirks at the memory. Shaking his head, as he gets back to the task at hand.

...

He doesn’t think he can tie it any better, so he takes one final look, takes a deep breath and smiles at himself in the oversized mirror. Just a small half smile, knowing that what he was about to do was going to change his life forever….

And he was ready.

—

It doesn’t start to sink in until about ten minutes beforehand that you are actually going to marry Frankie today. You’re in the small guest room, waiting for your mother to stop fussing over you already and to let you look in the mirror. “Mija, todo tiene que ser perfecta!” (Everything has to be perfect)

“Mamà, está bien... ¿puedo mirar ahora? Ya casi es hora de irse..." (It’s ok….. can I look now? It’s almost time to go…)” There’s no malice in your tone as your mouth turns up into a silly smile that you just can’t seem to hold back.

“Ah, si mi hermosa luz, creo que estes lista. Ven agora, and a y mira.”(Ah yes my beautiful light, I believe you are ready. Come now, go ahead and look.)

You stand up and slowly walk over to the full length mirror. The look on your face doesn’t at all match the sheer joy you feel in your chest. The initial shock wears off, but the weight of the moment hits you then; You’re marrying Frankie today. This incredible man who barreled his way into your life and decided he wanted to stay.

To see yourself in your mother’s wedding gown and jewelry, knowing that Frankie was waiting for you had your eyes welling up with tears. You silently prayed they stayed put as your mother had fussed with your makeup for a small eternity and Lord help you if you messed it up. So, you forced the tears back, albeit they were happy, joyous, singing to the choir tears that would surely fall once everything was said and done. You were more certain now in this choice, in Frankie, than at any other time in your life..

You gave yourself one final look in the mirror before turning back to your mother. Grabbing her small hands in yours and kissing her forehead, you silently thanked her for everything she had done for you; today and everyday.

“Ok Mija?”

“Si Mamà, Estoy lista.” (Yes, I’m ready.)

—

The ceremony was modest, with only close family and friends in attendance, but you were blessed beyond reason.

Those in attendance included your mother, who had brought along your Aunt and your two little cousins all the way from Cuba. You hadn’t seen her in ages, and this was the first time you’d gotten the chance to meet the little ones.

Frankie’s Mom and Step-Dad had flown in from Texas along with his older sister, which had been a surprise to the both of you, having never gotten to meet them prior. They welcomed you with nothing but warmth and love. Your previous apprehension at making a good impression, falling away the moment his mother wrapped you in her arms as she introduced herself.

She also took little to no time in latching onto your and soon-to-be Frankie’s son, her Grandson. Who she happily spoiled rotten from the get go and volunteered to be in charge of during the ceremony, giving your own mother a well deserved break as she had been deemed (by herself) as the primary babysitter.

And of course, Santi, Will and Benny were front and center. They would’ve all been groomsmen if you and Frankie had decided to have a wedding party. Instead you both opted for just a simple service. Santi would still supply the rings, but aside from the preacher, it would only be you and Frankie standing at the altar.

—

It was time.

You took a deep breath in, and let it out slowly as you turned the small corner to make your way to Frankie.

As you slowly made your way down the aisle, you didn’t expect to become breathless at the sight before you.

The expectation was that, the Bride-to-be would walk in and a hush would wash itself throughout the room. All eyes on her as she made her way to alter to join her fiancé.

You were sure your anxiety would rear its ugly head at being the center of attention, and had tried to give yourself a pep talk before walking inside. However, the moment you laid eyes on Frankie, you nearly stopped in your tracks.

You realized at that moment that you had never seen Frankie wear anything remotely resembling dress attire, let alone a suit and tie.

It was always jeans and a t-shirt, jacket when necessary and work boots… always work boots. He looked good on any given day and there had never been an occasion up until that point for him to “dress up.” But, you couldn’t take your eyes off of him…

His hair was still a disheveled mess of curls that you loved to run your fingers through. Not too long, but long enough that the ends would curl behind his ears. He just wouldn’t be Frankie without them, so you were grateful he didn’t try to tame them back. He was also wearing his glasses, which he had been trying to wear more and more these days as he couldn’t stand to wear his contacts after having gone without them for so long.

His tux was your normal coat and pants, but completely white, with a black bowtie and shoes with a shine that could blind a person if they got too close. You don’t think you have ever seen someone so beautiful in your life and he was yours.

You had managed to keep your pace steady all the way to the alter, even though you had half a mind to just run and get yourself there that much faster. Your mother was waiting up front to take your bouquet and give you over to the man you truly wanted to spend your life with. She kissed your cheek before turning to Frankie and offering him your hand. As he took it she wrapped both yours and Frankie’s hands in hers, saying she loved you both and giving a firm squeeze before letting you go and sitting back down at her seat in the front.

Frankie took both of your hands and whispered from under his messy bangs, “Are you ready?”

You couldn’t speak so you just nodded, trying not to cry before the preacher even had a chance to talk.

You tried to concentrate on the words being said, the prayer being read to the audience, but you could only focus on Frankie’s smile and his thumbs rubbing reassuring circles into your hands. You didn’t know why you were so nervous, but ultimately, it didn’t matter. Frankie was sure as stone and after you both repeated your vows and placed the rings on each others’ fingers, Frankie lifted your veil, seeing your lips quirk up into a smile and he kissed you. In front of all of the people who mattered to you the most in this world.

His kiss was equal parts strong and soft with his hand coming to your cheek while the other wrapped around your waist. You didn’t dip, but he held almost all of your weight as he put his entire life into that kiss. Letting you and everyone else know that you were it for him.

—

When you both came up for air, there was nothing but big smiles and happy tears from everyone around. Benny was hooping and hollering, and even Will had his hand to his mouth letting out a piercing whistle that echoed throughout the church. Santi was clapping along with the others, with an almost forlorn expression that seamlessly slipped back into a playful smile once Benny clapped him on the shoulder, joining in with everyone else in raining congratulations on the happy couple. Frankie took your hand and raised them both entwined up toward the sky as you walked back down the aisle, side by side, as husband and wife. The both of you more than ready to begin this new chapter in your lives.

Together.

—

—

Two hours earlier -

“Rings, rings…. Uh, shit!” Santi is looking around frantically, shuffling papers and patting down his pockets, seemingly having misplaced the rings he was in charge of.

“Haha, very funny pendejo…. Now’s really not the time to be fuckin’ around…” Frankie’s voice is playful, but when he looks over at Santi, he sees the panic starting to set in.

“Fuck man, seriously? You had one job… !” Frankie is pacing now alongside Santi as they both desperately search for the missing rings.

“Wait!! Wait, oh! Shit haha, we’re good, we’re good, man. We're fine, everything's fine... I just left them on the kitchen table after I grabbed the mail this morning. I only live like ten minutes away from here, I’ll be right back!”

“Jesus Pope! I about lost my goddamn ass over here man… Shit, just go grab them and come straight back, ok?”

“Alright, alright…. You need anything else while I’m out?”

“For fucks sake Pope! Just go!”

“Yep, yep on it!” At that, Santi runs out the door, leaving Frankie to his thoughts for the moment.

He sits down on the little couch in the sitting area and puts his head in his hands. He’s nervous and he wants this day to go perfectly, but he actually starts to laugh when he thinks about the circumstances.

All of this fuss over rings, when in reality, they were just a symbol. A token to show the world that you were his person, and he was yours. And even if Pope had lost them, it honestly wouldn’t change a thing. He was marrying you today, with or without a ring, and he could hardly wait.

—

It only takes Santi about eight minutes to get to his place. Possibly breaking a few speed limits to do so, but he did not want to be the cause of something ruining this day for either of you.

He goes inside and sees the ring boxes sitting right there on the table next to the untouched pile of mail. He lets out a deep breath, muttering under his breath, "Thank you, God!" Checking inside each box, making absolutely sure he had everything before putting them safely in his jacket pocket. Picking up the stack of mail, he quickly skims through it out of habit. Finding an envelope in the mix with only his name and address handwritten on the front with no return address.

He carefully opens it, revealing a small slip of folded paper. On the inside is a jumbled set of numbers and symbols…

Ones that he recognizes instantly—

—

—

Coordinates.

Coordinates to the money stolen out of the walls of Lorea’s house before it was burned to the ground. Money that was dumped in a ravine to get rid of extra weight that made flying too dangerous. Coordinates that only he, Will, and Benny knew about. Aside from one other person.

Tom.

Tom had found the money.

—

—

Taglist: @boliv-jenta @just-here-for-the-moment @quica-quica-quica @heythere-mel @sunnysidekit @dashavau @queridopascal @queridopascal-main @hnt-escape @rhoorl @readingiskeepingmegoing @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @bitchwitch1981 @jb2856 @mymo-n @littlemisspascal @tanzthompson @luciferiorbxtch @spookyxsam @imaswellkid @harriedandharassed @autumnleaves1991-blog @wildemaven @pastelnap @pimosworld @alwaysdjarin

A/N: Whoops!

*But seriously, from the bottom of my heart, thank you all for reading. It absolutely means the world to me 🥹

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