Charlotte Sugar (Cracker X Reader)

The Charlotte kitchens were by far the best you'd ever worked in. Every tool you could ever dream of having at your disposal was there along with only the finest ingredients. You'd always been strapped for cash and made things on a budget which made this all the better. All your utensils and tools at home were second hand or bought cheap. And that's when you realized you had some advantage over the others.

They all seemed like they expected to be provided with what was allowed to be used, like they were accustomed to working with such quality. They didn't see everything available as a gold mine whereas you did. You'd be able to take full advantage of what was given to you and make something better than you'd ever had the chance of doing before and you knew exactly what to make.

Your family was always baking and your mom used to joke that it was in your blood, much like with the Charlottes. In fact, she used to talk about the Charlotte family often, how lucky they were to have the funds to make such a booming business out of their love for sweets. It was actually what inspired you to search for work with their company. Your mom was also the one that taught you all the tricks she knew when it came to baking and along with that, a cake recipe that was passed down from generation to generation in the strangest of ways.

It was never written down and each person that knew it never told the next generation how to make it. Instead, you were taught by watching and tasting. Like her mother, your mom never guided you on exactly how to make the cake and let you figure out for yourself how you thought she made it. It resulted in more failed attempts than you could count but by the time you'd figured it out, you'd had the recipe down to a fine science. Except with your first success, you'd realized your creation wasn't quite like your mom's. You remember how crushed you were by not having it just right, until your mom filled you in on some details.

"It's not the same!" You cried out in frustration.

You were ten years old and had finally made the family recipe from scratch perfectly, or so you thought until you did a taste test to compare it to the cake your mom had made. There was a definite difference in the flavor of each one.

Your mother laughed before taking another bite of yours.

"It's not supposed to be." She said around a mouthful.

"What's that supposed to mean?" You huffed in annoyance.

"Remember how you used to always say mine never came out like your Nana's?"

"Yeah."

"It wasn't supposed to. She taught me the same way I taught you. I learned at about the same age as you did too and I remember throwing the biggest tantrum when I thought I would never get it right. Your Nana tried my cake and you know what she told me?"

"What?" Your annoyance melted away and was quickly replaced by curiosity.

She carefully laid her fork down on the plate and scooted around in her chair to face you better, resting an elbow on the table. "She said my cake couldn't have turned out any more perfect. It was exactly right."

"How can it be right if it doesn't taste the same?"

"It's supposed to be your interpretation of the recipe and by having you make it without guidance, you do just that, interpret it in your own way. Every time one of us (L/n) make this, we put a bit of ourselves into it and that's what you did today. Because of that, this couldn't be any more perfect. It's a reflection of you my love."

Now with the challenge of making something that would knock the two Charlotte brother's socks off, you planned on making the family cake. It was the one thing you knew better than anything else and you were sure if it wouldn't win them over, nothing would. In all honesty, making it was a bit of a risk. Peros had said they were judging what was made strictly off of taste but as you scurried around the kitchen with the other applicants and watched their creations come to life, you were beginning to feel a bit uncertain.