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#Best decoration Sydney
memorableeventz · 9 months
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Balloon Decorations for Party
Balloon decorations for party add a celebratory touch to any event. These versatile decorations are impactful, easy to make, and affordable.
If you’re throwing a graduation party for your son or daughter, these balloon polka dots are the perfect way to display yearbook superlatives. They also work well for a backyard BBQ or seasonal birthday party.
Helium Balloon Decoration
Balloons are a staple of party decorations. They're usually used to create arches, columns and centerpieces but can also be modeled into more ambitious balloon sculptures.
Fill an alcove with a bunch of coordinating colored balloons to create an eyecatching focal point. This would be perfect for a wedding reception, anniversary or graduation party.
Add a personal touch to any celebration by attaching photos to a bunch of balloons. This idea is perfect for a baby shower, birthday or graduation party.
Personalized Balloons
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Personalized balloon decorations for party with names and phrases are the perfect way to add a special touch to any party. They’re a great option for children’s birthday parties, and they can also be used to celebrate an anniversary or holiday.
Using custom printed balloons is an easy and cost-effective way to make an event more memorable. Printed balloons can be used to reveal baby genders, jazz up anniversaries, spice up Valentine’s Day, and liven up NYE parties. You can even use inside jokes and memories to make the birthday boy or girl feel extra special. The best part is that there’s no minimum order!
Balloon Centerpieces
A balloon centerpiece is a great way to make your party table look more special. The key is to choose a design that suits the event theme or color scheme. You can also use a variety of balloon sizes and shapes to create visual appeal.
Create a hoop balloon wreath that matches your party colors to serve as an attention-grabbing centerpiece. Or, try a confetti balloon centerpiece to add a pop of color to your table.
Balloons are an affordable and versatile option for table decorations. Whether you're planning a themed birthday party or a summer celebration, these ideas for balloon centerpieces will brighten your party tables.
Balloon Chandelier
Whether it's for an engagement party, birthday or other celebration, a photo balloon decoration wall chandelier is sure to catch everyone's eye and spark memories. This DIY decoration is easy to do and so effective.
To make your own, you will need two large hoops and some short strings. Start by creating an 'x' with the two long strings across the top of the big hoop then suspend the smaller hoop from the 'x' using four shorter strings.
Next, stick your photos on the 5x7 card stock with double sided tape and attach curling ribbon to all of them. After the party, your guests can take the photos home with them.
Balloon Picture Frame
A balloon picture frame makes a show-stopping backdrop for guests' photos at birthday parties or other celebratory events. This unique balloon decoration idea is also a fun and easy DIY project that gives your event a custom look.
Bring out your inner artistic image with a free-standing sculptured balloon frame that can hold 3 1/2'' X 5'' photographs. This adorable graduation Best decoration Sydney idea works well for either high school or college grads and can be personalized with their year.
Ethereal balloon clouds are perfect for creating celestial themes at weddings, baby showers, or themed parties. Combine them with fairy lights or tulle fabric for an extra enchanting effect.
Balloon Car Surprise
If you’re looking for a fun and romantic way to surprise someone, stuff their car with balloons and lights. You can even add a custom message or photo for extra effect. This set includes one large pink bow, one proposal flag, three 12-inch wave balloons, five 10-inch silver balloons, red Valentine’s Day small crown, and 20 10-inch white balloons. The light-up feature requires a total of 11 AA batteries (excluded). All balloons ship flat and deflate. This is the best way to ensure safe delivery and a long lifespan of your decorations. It’s easy to blow them up with hot air and tape them to the ceiling before your party.
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A Comprehensive Guide to Interior House Painting Sydney
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Interior house painting Sydney is the most effective and cost-effective approach to liven up your home and give it a more vibrant, contemporary appearance and feel. It will not only boost its market value, but it will also make you appreciate your home even more. It may brighten up space unless you pick a deeper hue. Whatever your project goals are, one thing is sure: your home will look brand new in no time and without breaking the bank.
While it is perfectly feasible to do a paint job as a Do-It-Yourself home project, it is also advisable to leave it to professional house interior painters in Sydney. Why? Because there are several elements to consider and choices to be made before embarking on such a project, like time, money, colour scheme and theme, and so on.
Continue reading this comprehensive guide to learn more about interior house painting Sydney.
What You Should Know Before Beginning Your Interior House Painting Job
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Keep the paint's shine or gross level in mind when starting a painting task. The shinier the look and finish, the greater the gross level. Here are some things you should know before beginning your interior house painting Sydney project:
1. Prepare
One of the most important tasks is to prepare a space for interior painting. You want your freshly painted finish to endure as long as possible. As a result, homeowners should prepare the space and remove any extra clutter. Disinfecting the area would also be good for preventing paint-destroying germs from spoiling the paintwork.
2. Remove Pictures and Decorative Items
Allow enough time to prepare your house for the arrival of professional painters. Rushing about at the last minute while your painting staff attempts to set up might result in missing or damaged products. Allow enough time to prepare your house, ideally at least a day ahead of time.
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Take down all objects from the walls and drapes. Items on the table should be moved to a closet or cupboard. If feasible, move houseplants outside to a patio or garage—secure cabinet and furniture doors to prevent objects from falling out when the furniture is moved.
3. Colour Choice
Choosing the correct paint colour for an interior area is essential. Choosing a few colours for an interior painting job is preferable, so you may take your time selecting. There are several paint colours to choose from.
However, consider the area's proportions, function, and lighting condition while deciding on the ideal paint colour for a space. Painting a space is more than just picking a colour and getting started.
Consider the aesthetic elements of the space, as well as the furnishings and flooring.
4. Choose the Right Paint Finish
It is vital to complete your pride and joy correctly. A skilled house painter can advise you on the best solution for your property.
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Flat paint may conceal many defects if your walls are rough or have faults. If your surface is rough and pitted from time's wounds, be wary of painters who aim to achieve a high gloss finish. The most important factor to consider is the correct finish: the look must be suited to your house and your needs.
How Frequently Should You Paint the Interior of Your Home?
Repainting your home is a significant undertaking with a large visual impact. But how frequently should you repaint the inside of your home? It is dependent on the space. Because of regular usage, certain rooms need to be more frequent than others. Nevertheless, rooms that aren't utilised often may not need a fresh coat of paint. You may engage expert interior painters for interior painting regardless of how many rooms you need to repaint.
Bedrooms
Although bedrooms are used more frequently than dining and living rooms, they do not experience as much damage. Adult bedrooms do not even put much wear on the paint, so that it may stay for a long period.
Children's bedrooms are an exception. Because children frequently use their rooms to play and sleep, their paint may get scuffed. As a result, adult bedrooms should be repainted every 5-10 years, although children's rooms may need a new coat more regularly, like every four years.
Bathroom
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Your bathroom, like the kitchen, is being used daily and is prone to a lot of wear and tear. Consider how much steam and water splattered on your bathroom walls daily.
In addition, condensation may drastically wear down the paint in this area, whether you're cleaning your hands or having a shower. Bathroom walls must be repainted every 3-4 years to maintain them in good condition.
Living and Dining Room
The dining room is often one of the house's least-used rooms. Many individuals utilise their dining rooms just a few times yearly for formal holidays or events. If such is the case in the dining room, the paint will experience minor wear and tear, allowing it to last longer. You can get away with repainting it every seven years.
While you generally spend more time in your living room than in the dining room, it may not need as much painting. Most people use their living rooms for low-stress pastimes such as sitting, watching TV and socialising, none of which will rapidly wear off your paint. Because of this, if you don't have children, you may go 6 or 7 years without having to repaint your living room.
Rambunctious kids may inflict more excellent wear on the walls, necessitating more frequent painting.
Kitchen
Because your kitchen is one of the most utilised rooms in your home, it requires more frequent painting. You use your kitchen daily for cooking and dining, and it is often exposed to water from your dishwasher and sink.
As a result, there is a lot of activity in this space daily. Because of the tension and regular cleaning, the paint may wear out rapidly, so you should repaint your kitchen every three years.
Ceiling
The paint on your ceiling is some of the most resilient and long-lasting in your home. Abrasion from heat and humidity, moisture, and normal wear and tear may cause abrasion on your ceiling over time. However, you should anticipate your ceiling paint to last around 10 years before it has to be repainted.
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If you’re looking for professional exterior or interior painters, look no further than Clear Finish Painting, the top 1 rated painters in Sydney.
Conclusion
A new coat of paint might be the greatest thing to enhance the appearance of your house if you pick the perfect paint colour and apply it appropriately. It is a great option to save money and time since it is less expensive than remodeling your home. There are several factors to consider before beginning an interior painting project, but it is easy to complete it perfectly if everything is well-planned.
We at Clear Finish Painting care for all the little details that make your property seem great. We have a competent painting team specializing in interior and exterior painting. Contact us today and get a free quote for the best exterior and interior painting services at the best pricing.
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jarrodrobinsonposts · 2 years
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Explore Our Wide Selection Of Stylish Hall Console Table Australia
If you are looking for the best Hall Console Table Australia, we offer you a diverse range that can fulfil your needs and budget. Our products are carefully selected and made of high-quality materials that ensure their durability. Please give us a call now to learn more about our products and services.
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opcpaintings · 2 years
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nikkisheep · 5 months
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To Be Alone With You (Part 4)
Anthony Bridgerton x female!sharma!sister!reader (soon)
mentions of Benedict Bridgerton x female!sharma!sister!reader
Warnings: cheating (Anthony is engaged to Edwina), SMUT!!!!!! oral (f), fingering, over stimulation, sexual tension, cursing, body worship, jealous Anthony, biting, angst at the end, hair pulling, breeding kink
I'M SO SORRY IT GOT TO BE SO LONG :)
Summary: Anthony finds out about your art session with Benedict and means to remind you who you belong to as you remind him who he chose to belong to.
Songs to listen to while reading: **= smut part, *=angst
**Amantes: Esme (song is in Spanish but is very soft and sets the mood)
**Take Me To Church: Hozier
**I Wanna Be Yours: Arctic Monkeys
**Shameless: Camila Cabello
**wRoNg: ZAYN
*The Great War: Taylor Swift
*Say Don't Go: Taylor Swift
Tag List: @shealuna, @m-rae23, @littlepeanut03, @aellabridgerton, @sydney-m, @faatxma, @wildthoughtnananna, @uraesthete, @themadhattersqueen, @sydney-m, @theantiquehobbit
LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED, COMMENT OR MESSAGE ME
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You watched the Lady's maids get you ready in front of a large mirror. When it came time for you to get your hair done, your best friend, Phoebe, ushered the other maids out. Phoebe was the daughter of your mother's Lady's maid. The two of you grew to be fast friends as you grew older. Phoebe hoping for marriage and you planning to find a man worthy of her.
"If you are not careful, the others will know what you and those two Bridgertons are up to," She said as she pulled your hair off your neck, revealing the bruises from your "art" session with the second son.
"Phoebe!" You gasp. "I told you that as you are my best friend, not for you to use it against me."
"Darling, I am not using it against you nor am I blaming you. Do you know how many women would kill to be in your position?" She giggled as she put your hair in the tight bun that it needed to be in.
"I would rather not be in my position if I could help it," You said while looking down at your hands.
---
The Bridgerton house was covered in their signature baby blues. There were flowers, candles, and other decor everywhere to be seen. All the Bridgerton brothers were decked out in their fancy suits with those beautiful neck ties. Benedict's was a soft yellow and Anthony's was a dark blue. The others wore white.
Dressed in your family's dark purple color, your mother had the neck line deeper than what is normally accepted. You knew that she just wanted to help you find a man but the only man that you really wanted was one who was engaged to marry your sister.
Moving to the drink table, you grab a cup of water. You notice that nearly everyone else had chosen the lemonade. When you turned back around from the table to the ballroom, one Colin Bridgerton was making his way to you.
Giving a short bow, Colin moved to stand beside you.
"Do tell me, Miss Sharma, how have you enchanted my two idiot brothers?" He asked with a sly smirk on his face.
"Why, I do not have the slightest idea," You reply, hoping that he wouldn't pressure.
"See, I don't know if I can accept that answer, Miss Sharma," Colin said. "It seems that their eyes have not left you since you walked into the room."
With that he left your side, only for one Anthony Bridgerton to step into his place.
"Evening, Miss Sharma."
"Viscount Bridgerton." You nod.
"How have you been?"
"I've been fine, my Lord," You quip. "How has your engagement been?"
He looked at you with a flash of hurt at the sudden mention of his engagement to your sister.
"How was the art session with my brother?" He said with a jealous undertone in his voice.
"It was wonderful. I learned a lot. A lot that some men can't teach." You walked away at the end of your sentence as you moved to the dance floor with Anthony.
The way his eyes looked at you with such passion and desire at the same time nearly dizzied you as his left hand came to rest on your waist and his right holding yours. His warm skin melted through the soft white fabric of your glove and you could feel his warmth through your gown.
Your bodies moved in waves of motion as you stared into each other's eyes, mapping out every hue of color as though this will be the last chance you would see each other. After all, this will be your last chance to see Viscount Anthony Bridgerton unwed. The last chance to be with Anthony Bridgerton. Your Anthony.
"Your gown is exquisite, Miss Sharma." Anthony moves to turn you so your back is pressed against his chest, his arm holding yours across your chest. His lips near your ear so you are the only one to hear, his warm breath fans over your exposed neck and the top of your chest as it rises and falls with the sheer excitement and nervousness that came to being this close with the Viscount, your lover in the darkest nights.
"Thank you," You said. "You don't look to bad yourself, My lord. "
"Anthony," He said. "I have told you to call me Anthony."
"My lord, I have only called you that in private." You began to become flustered with the memories of your night meetings before his engagement.
"You seem to be flustered," He says as he pulls you closer as the music stops, his lips directly beside your ear. "Tell me, do you still think of me when you are with my brother?"
You pull back quickly with surprise. You go to say something, anything but you can't seem to find the words.
"It's okay, darling. My brother is a worthy lover, however, I must make you remember who you belong to." He says before squeezing your dress to walk away to greet a man by his mother.
---
You sit in your room, looking out the window at the small lake outside. The night reminds you of when you first let Anthony touch you.
His skin against yours in the cool water as he moved his lips against yours in fever as he wanted to consume your every thought and replace it with him. The way he picked you up out of the water and laid you on that dock. The way he ravaged you with hunger and lust as he picked you apart and put you back together with pleasure being his glue.
Your hands start to wander up and down your body as you remembered the ways that he touched you, making you feel immense pleasure that you had never known until that night. You shake the thoughts away from your mind as it started to thunder outside, signaling a thunderstorm was about to hit. Just as a loud crash of thunder clapped, a small thud against your window sounded so much louder in the howling wind and rain. You open the window to find Anthony Bridgerton soaked head to toe in water. His hair was stuck to his face and his clothes were stuck to his body. He waved you down and you went.
"Have you gone mad?" You whisper shout.
"Mad? No. In love with you? Yes." He smiles.
"You don't mean that, My lord."
"But I do."
"You made me believe you loved me only for you to propose to Edwina. My sister!"
"I never meant to actually fall in love with you!" He yelled, hands coming to be thrown up in the air.
"So it's my fault that you love me? Is that what you are trying to tell me?"
"No! Yes! I don't know how I fell in love with you." He stared at you as the rain continued to pour around you. "I just know why I love you. Let me show you how much I love you."
"What about Edwina?"
"What of Edwina?" He asked, confused at the even mere mention of her. As if the mention of his fiancee was left a bad taste in his mouth. Not that she wasn't a lovely girl, but because she wasn't you.
"What has happened between you two?" You tremble at the thought of the two of them doing the things that you have done together.
"What do you mean by that?" He asked. "Nothing has happened."
"Have you kissed her?"
"No."
"Have you held her body close to yours?"
"No."
"Has she been given the same pleasures that you once gave me?"
"You are the only one that I have ever wanted to be with that way in a long time. I do not care for Edwina that way. When I told you that I only feel this way about you at the lake, I meant it." He said, moving to grab your hands to pull you closer to him.
His brown eyes bored into yours as he scanned your face for any resistance. He pressed his body against yours as he bent his head down to press light kisses on your neck.
"I desire you so deeply I feel it in my bones."
"I believe that may be the cold and the rain."
-----
You lead him into the house, quietly to not wake anyone, and held his hand as he followed behind you up the stairs. As he stared at you with want, you lead him to your bedroom. He helped you run a warm bath as the two of you had been in the rain for the last hour.
You step closer to him, hands coming up to cup his jaw as you pulled him down to you level and kissed his lips. He gasped at the chill of your lips which lead you to slipping your tongue inside his warm mouth. You moaned as your hands wandered his wet body and started to slip his waistcoat off his shoulders to reach his shirt. His own hands came up to start unbuttoned his shirt before you ultimately ripped it off him.
"I quite liked that shirt," he said with a smirk.
"I'll buy you a new one," You said as you unbuttoned his pants and stripped him bare before you.
Your hands came up and started to touch his body as he kissed you, removing your wet clothes for your body. The two of you laid in the tub as the warm water surrounded you both.
Your head on his chest and his chin on the top of your head gave the two of you the feeling of closeness that you needed.
"I love you," he whispered into your hair.
"I know. I love you too."
You turned to kiss his lips and hold him close to you. Your tongues move together as if they were dancing, in secret promises of love and lust. Your hands explore each other's wet bodies as you lay in the warm water. Anthony's chest tickles your back lightly and you can't help but sigh at the thought of being like this forever.
----
Anthony dried you in the white fluffy towel and wrapped you up before grasping your face to kiss your lips once more. His kiss was slow, exploring your mouth as though it would be the last time, not knowing if there would ever be another time he could touch you like this, to taste you like this.
His arms came to pull you flush against his bare body as his hands caressed every inch of your skin, wanting to memorize the feel of your skin underneath his hands, to feel your warmth radiating from you.
He walks you back to your bed, never breaking the kiss until he pulls away long enough to gently push you back so you fell onto the mattress softly, swiftly landing on top of you, connecting your mouths once more. It felt like your air was stolen right out of your lungs and your body set aflame. Your legs spread to allow him to lay in between them as his hands ran down your sides as he kisses your thoughts and air away from you.
Anthony's scent filled your nose as you breathed him in. His touch washed any thought away as his lips ventured down to your neck, kissing and sucking lightly, making you sigh in content as you felt Anthony's tongue gently soothed over any bites that he left as he moved down your body.
Quiet whispers of "You're so beautiful" and "I love you" slipped into the night as Anthony kissed down your stomach and met your hips. Brown eyes met yours as he looked at you for permission. You nodded for him to continue and you closed your eyes as you awaited the blissful pleasure of his mouth on you but it never came.
"Words," His eyes said. "I want to hear you say it."
"Anthony, please! I need you!" You moan as you try to grind your hips into his face.
"I love you," was all he said before he held eye contact as his mouth opened and his tongue touched your pussy. His lips came to your clit as he closed his eyes at the sweet taste of you. He moaned softly into your cunt as you gripped his hair with one hand and the other, the bed sheet. Your hips rolled against his mouth as he pleasured you. You noticed that the bed was moving slightly as you opened your eyes and saw that he was staring at you as he ground his hips into the mattress to relieve himself some of the pressure that was torturing his cock.
"Oh my Lord!" You nearly shout as you clasp a hand over your mouth to quiet yourself.
"Do not bring my title into this bed," He grunted against your body.
You moaned at the sheer feeling of his fingers slipping into your hole, stretching you for the later events with his dick. He looked at your with admiration as he played your body like a violin. Anthony slipped from your hips as he moved himself to rest his face above yours.
"So beautiful."
"Anthony," You gasped into his mouth, panting to catch your breath.
"Does this feel good?"
You moan as his fingers brush your g-spot before curling there and massaging it.
"It does feel good, doesn't it?" He smirked. "So pretty. My pretty girl."
"Anthony," You keen. Your stomach tightening. "Please."
"My sweet girl, you don't have to beg." He looked down at your soaked pussy. "Cum."
Your orgasm wracked through you as Anthony continued to finger you through it. Waves of pleasure washed over you as over stimulation started to set in.
"Anthony," You whine.
"One more."
His fingers sped up as his search for another orgasm from you became desperate.
"Such a good girl," He praised. "My good girl. Doing everything that I tell you. Thinking that she can just fuck my brother but look who has her now. Look at how good you are being for me."
Your back arches as you let out a moan and Anthony clasps a hand over your mouth to silent you. You cum once more before Anthony moves in between your legs once again to line himself up with your entrance.
"Gonna fill you up so good," He groaned as he sunk into you. "Gonna see you so full of me, going to be dripping me for days."
You groan as he starts slowly moving against your walls as you clamp down on him, slowing his movements even further.
"I want to feel you," You moan as your arms wrap around his shoulders and pull his weight on you. You hand goes to his hair and you gasp when he thrusts deeply.
"Oh, Anthony."
"Yes, moan my name. Forget my brother. Forget any other man but me. I am the one making you feel this good." He groans into your neck as he starts to pick up pace.
"Only you, Anthony," You moan, back arching off the bed and your hips rising to meet his. "Only you make me feel this good."
His lips find yours and swallows your loud moans, keeping them for himself and only him. His hips move faster as he starts to get near his release. His thumb moves to your clit and starts to circle it as he kisses your neck and move down to your breasts, sucking softly.
"So beautiful," He moaned. "My pretty girl."
Your orgasm hit you like a train and you bite down where his shoulder meets his neck, earning a hiss from Anthony as he moved over you quickly, jack-hammering into you, trying to reach his end. You hands pull at his hair and his lips find yours.
His warmth spills inside you, your eyes rolling back as you feel him fill you completely. He falls on top of you, trying to catch his breath. You look at him in the soft moon light shining from your window. The rain was still coming down hard outside.
"I love you," You whisper.
He turns to look at you, smiling at your words.
"I love you too."
You smile before sliding closer to kiss his lips. His arms come around your body and pull you closer to his body so your legs tangled together.
"I wish we could be like this forever," You sigh, drawing circles on his chest with your finger.
"I know, I know." He sighed as he relaxed against you. "I wish it wasn't like the way it is."
You turn to look at him with a frown.
"When do you need to be back home before one of my sisters find us?"
"I can leave in about an hour," He said, looking into your eyes before kissing you softly.
"I can work with that," You smile before turning over to sleep against his chest.
"I love you, Miss Sharma."
----
You awoke with the other side of the bed cold. You turned over, hoping, wishing, that Anthony was still there. That he had chosen to stay, to risk being caught just so he could wake up next to you. You remember the feeling that you got when he used "Miss Sharma" rather than your name when he told you that he loved you. It was too vague for your liking. There were three "Miss Sharmas'." You sigh before getting up to start your day.
You look at his side and realize that there was a letter on your bedside table.
My Dearest, Miss Sharma
I awoke with a perplexed train of thought as I watched you blissfully sleep. I love you as deeply as the deepest parts of the oceans and even further than that. I wish there was a way for me to sleep in the same bed as you. To stay in the same home with you, to hold your love as close as I can until it was the only thing that I knew. I wish there were a way for me to undo everything that I gave done. I struggle with words compared to Benedict which on the subject of Ben, I give you my full permission to pursue him. Just because you can not find the happiness that you deserve with me, does not mean that my dear brother can not full fill that void that I have caused to be created in your soul.
I love you, Miss Sharma. How I wish I were able to say, "I love you, Mrs. Bridgerton. My viscountess." Perhaps in a different reality were I didn't propose to your sister, it would be you who I am marrying. Someone that I truly love despite that being everything I did not want when I was looking for a bride.
Yours true and with my deepest love,
A.B.
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blinkblindsau · 2 years
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Best Custom Blinds in Sydney
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Are you looking for the best custom blinds in Sydney? Blinks Blinds is the leading supplier of quality custom blinds in Sydney. Give us a call at +61(2)-4019-9014.
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nolita-fairytale · 11 months
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Carmy as Your Baby Daddy | Social Media AU & Headcanon Series | part six
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part five | masterlist | part seven
your third trimester & meeting baby bear
your third trimester fatigue really starts to set it, rendering a slow-down on you and carmy's sex-a-palooza (era coined & named by @starbritestarlite). the less-than-desirable symptoms come back: extreme fatigue, smell/food sensitivities, and your back and feet are almost always tired/sore.
sugar insists on throwing you a baby shower, and you let her because you know how happy it makes her. you can't believe she actually wants to throw (and host) the party, even though she has a fourteen-month old, but like she said, she insists. sydney offers to cater it and with that addition, you and sugar are both game.
it's there at the baby shower that sugar finds she's pregnant AGAIN and sydney cannot fathom what she must've done in a past life to deserve two pregnant best friends who can't even drink.
sugar gets pastries from your favorite bakeries around the city: marcus' croissants, mochi donuts decorated like baby bears, cupcakes, while sydney takes care of the rest of the food. it's the sweetest thing and carmy is grateful yet a little overwhelmed by the huge celebration that sugar has orchestrated because you swear she's invited everyone you and carmy have ever known.
most sundays when you host brunch at your place, you whip up a great brunch spread and fantastic playlist, and after all of your guest are done, you and carmy spend the afternoon napping, making out, and dreaming up the rest of your life together.
i'd just like to reiterate the pregnant people in overalls concept because i did in fact go to a ceramic sale and see so many pregnant people in overalls. it's a thing. it's a vibe. i'm not sorry. just picture it: you, pregnant in overalls, painting the second bedroom and turning it into a nursery. you and carmy tag team this huge diy project. while you paint, carmy can't stop checking in: "are you sure you're supposed to be around these paint fumes? you feeling okay? you want to sit down, sweetheart? how's baby bear?" and it's so endearing that he's worried but you're having fun doing this with him and you'd really like for him to stop worrying for a second.
shopping. for. baby. clothes. one day you come home from the office with a tiny little denim baby jacket. "i know baby bear won't be able to wear it for a while but..." and carmy is just in tears.
baby bear pajamas. baby bear bed sheets. baby bear wall decals. baby bear everything.
one day when carmy has a night off, he's made dinner for you by the time you get home from the office. while you insist on doing the dishes, he cuddles up with you on the couch later that night. without warning, he begins giving you a foot massage, and it's the best one you've ever gotten. "baby, if you ever decide to change careers, you might have a future in massage." he blushes, reluctant to tell you, but inevitably shares that pete took him to a prenatal massage class. you are speechless. "i'm sorry. you went to a prenatal massage class with pete?! better not let richie find out." but all of your teasing falls by the wayside as you more than happily accept his foot and back rubs night after night.
on top of talking to baby bear, you and carmy begin reading to baby bear. you buy baby bear a few children's books to start and while you prefer to read them to baby bear, carmy has another idea. one afternoon when you fall asleep, he begins reading (and commenting) on a few cookbooks he's owned for most of his career. things like: "hmmm that seems like a little too much salt." and "2 oz of carrots, shredded, then pickled with-. would you pair carrots with jicama for an escabeche, baby bear?" some days you pretend you're still sleeping just to hear him do it because it truly is the most precious thing you've ever heard in your life.
carmy is terrified that he'll be a bad dad, considering his dad left and his mom is... his mom and freaks out one day. in an effort to calm him down, you finally admit that you've been listening to him read to baby bear when you fall asleep. "a man that a works on a recipe with his unborn kid... that's dad material if i've ever seen it." while he still has his worries and anxieties, it makes him feel loads better when you remind him that more than anything, you believe in him.
when you go into labor, carmy drops everything to get to the hospital as soon as possible. while not planned or preferred, you end up having to have a c-section with baby bear. it's the strangest experience (did you know they literally have to take your organs out to get to the baby?!?!?!) and it's not what you pictured, but the minute you hear baby bear cry, it doesn't matter. it is emotional: army is crying and you're crying and baby bear is crying, and you both know your lives have just changed forever.
"welcome to the world, josephine antonia berzatto," you whisper as you hold your baby girl in your arms for the very first time.
a/n: my heart exploded writing that last part. rip to me.
in a wild turn of events, i WILL be writing a 'your life with baby bear' headcanon for this series NEXT, and then eventually a 'carmy as a dad/you and carmy as parents' headcanon.
i forgot to add... i just want to say that @carmensberzattos did in fact call it, insisting that baby bear be called antonia. which is insane considering in season 2 we learned that carmy's middle name is anthony. and that's on being psychic. name was edited bc it flowed better this way!!
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wardenparker · 4 months
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Hummingbird Has Landed, ch 3
Marcus Pike x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst
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After the debacle of his failed engagement and relocating to Washington to take charge of his task force, newly minted Special Agent Marcus Pike is ready to get back out into the dating pool once more. A slew of bad dates has him feeling a little down, and he takes an old friend up on an invitation to get away and get his head on straight. Imagine his surprise when he finds not only fresh air, but his soulmate as well - hiding in plain sight but in the unlikeliest of places.
Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 11.1k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: occasional mention of American politics, pregnant character, food/alcohol consumption, mentions of clothing/regulated dressing for occasions, mentions of therapy because we believe in self care here, reader is in a previous relationship, love triangle* Disagreeing amongst partners, disappointments, unexpected turns, denial of feelings, unwanted revelations. Summary: It's Valentine's Day and no one's date seems to be going quite the way they expected. Notes: Apologies for the posting delay, my lovelies! Please enjoy 💖
Ch1 ~ Ch 2
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When you still haven't heard from Marcus the next day, you're really pretending not to be bothered by it. You go about your work as usual, take care of your guests, manage a few nibbles of lunch, and work through the Valentine's check-ins with Malachi to make sure that everything goes smoothly. The whole day is chaotic and the inn is completely sold out, and yet you can't stop glancing down at your phone to see if you've gotten a text back.
You've just slipped into the kitchen after your shift to see Sydney after her spa-and-afternoon-tea date when the restaurant's hostess on duty comes in with a reservation slip to add to the board. The restaurant is basically fully booked now, with a few last minute cancellations and reservations working themselves out throughout the day, and a part of you wishes you could just stay here tonight and keep working, but you promised Sam. And you promised your mother's office that there would be social media updates tonight. This date might as well be public, so there is no backing out now.
“Hey babe!” Sydney grins as she looks up from the cake she is decorating, the piping bag in her hand full of dark chocolate buttercream. “Checking in before going to get ready?”
“Yup. Just came in to say hi and check the last minute reservations.” You take the slip from Sydney’s hostess with a flourish to tack it up on the board, and immediately make some sort of inhuman squawking noise that has your best friend whirling around in the kitchen.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” She demands, rushing over to the board. From the noise you made, it’s either incredibly good or incredibly bad.
“Nothing’s wrong.” Not technically, anyway. But you hand over the slip with obvious discomfort — or maybe a tinge of something else deeper and darker — on your face. “It’s…I guess…Marcus has a date tonight.”
“What? Oh…” she takes the slip and reads it, frowning slightly as she looks up to see you fidgeting and looking away from the paper. “Well, um, I guess that means he will be here and it’s good that you are going out with Sam.”
The frown that has formed on your face cuts deep, and you put down the empty mug you had grabbed to pour yourself a late afternoon cup of coffee with a slam. “Of course it’s a good thing.” You state unequivocally, not wanting to deal with or admit to the burning feeling in your chest. “He’s my boyfriend. It’s a very good thing.”
Sydney doesn’t comment, just pins the reservation to the allotted slot: 7 pm for two. There’s a note on the reservation to have a bottle of champagne brought to the table with dessert, so she’s not sure what to make of that. It seems unlikely that he’s taking his mother or sister out for a romantic meal.
“I have to get changed.” Comes the unnecessary announcement as you pace a little square around the corner of the kitchen only to end up facing Sydney again. “I just wanted to say hi, and I hope you and Juan had a good day.” Before this…intrusion into your thoughts, you had wanted to know everything. Every single thing they ate at tea and did at the spa. Now you feel like throwing up from pure discomfort.
“We did.” It seems wrong to rub it in your face right now, since you seem to be having some sort of reaction to the idea that Marcus would book a date here. She has to wonder if there’s meaning behind it, or if he had just imagined bringing someone here because it was a wonderful little place. The dining room of the restaurant is intimate, perfect for romance, especially tonight with the lights lower and the decor that had been brought out for the holiday.
“Good. I—okay. I’m going to go up, then. Malachi has a full reservation book and there’s an extra bellhop on tonight for the full house.” Sweeping out of the room is probably an overstatement, but you certainly move fast enough that Agent Bailey has to hop to in order to keep up with you as you head for the back stairs. Suddenly you have all the nervous energy in the world to walk all the way up to your apartment instead of taking the elevator.
“Okay…bye.” Sydney calls out, eyes wide at the dramatic exit and she pulls out her phone to send a quick text to her husband.
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You might have tried a little harder than was strictly necessary to look good tonight. Not because Marcus might see you — that doesn’t make any sense — but to try to shut up all the whirling thoughts in your head about your loyalties and your attachments. You’ve been with Sam for almost a full year. It’s eleven months next week. And he deserves your complete attention. So if he gets you in your best little black dress and the earrings he gave you for your last birthday? That’s good, too.
Sam is nothing if not punctual, actually showing up fifteen minutes before you needed to leave. One of his office aides had run out to get you some flowers, now in hand, and he smiles widely when he sees you. “Wow.” He hums, whistling appreciatively. “I feel underdressed.” He jokes, wearing a smart suit like he normally does.
“You haven’t been underdressed since the day you were born.” Sam is perpetually put together, so you have definitely stepped up your game from the jeans and cheeky blouses that would normally have been good date clothes in the past. “Hi honey.”
“Hey, sweetheart.” He offers you the flowers with a smile. “You look incredible. These are only half as beautiful as you.”
“Thank you, honey.” The large bouquet is all red and pink buds, clearly done up for the holiday, and you let the day’s earlier tension roll off your shoulders as you inhale the sweet scent. “Let me put these in the vase in my office and we can get going?” Upstairs in your place they’re beautiful, but downstairs means anyone who sticks their head in your office will see them.
“Of course.” He nods and looks towards Agent Bailey. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Agent Bailey.” He tells her politely. “Would you mind following us to the restaurant tonight?”
“No surprise stops, Congressman?” Following behind isn’t unusual, but Bailey still had to do her job. Any unexpected additions to the night just complicate matters.
His smile tightens slightly. “Just the itinerary you have planned out.” He comments, slightly irked that he has to have plans approved through the Secret Service. It’s not exactly his idea of pleasant.
“Ready to go?” It only takes a moment to get your flowers in water, and you reach for Sam’s hand. After spending your time getting ready reminding yourself to focus on your relationship and stop being so wishy-washy, you’re trying to put your best everything forward for tonight.
“Absolutely.” Sam smiles broadly, his shoulders rolling back and he puffs his chest out proudly. “Let’s go get romantic.”
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The restaurant that was picked out is small and welcoming, a  homespun but upscale bistro owned by a couple from New Orleans that moved up to Maryland sometime during the raising of their children. You had read the website while you were getting ready for tonight. The place boasts an impressive menu and a fan favorite étouffée, as well as an entire family working every aspect of the restaurant. From what you can tell, it looks like a perfect date spot. When you pull up it’s brimming over with people, too, which makes you even more excited. Busy means tasty, of course.
“Well this looks promising.” Sam comments, looking over at you. “What did you say the menu was?” He hadn’t really paid attention to where it was, just that you had said it was a good choice for a dinner out and photographs. You know how to work PR from your mother’s campaign, something he admires.
“New American through a New Orleans lens.” That’s what the website had said, and you could swear you already hear jazz pouring out the front door.
“Interesting.” He doesn’t particularly care for spicy foods, his stomach never agrees with it, but he trusts your judgement. “It’s perfect for the photographer and I’m assuming there’s some heartwarming backstory to the place?”
“Family owned and family run.” You can practically hear the silent commentary in his head, and you touch his arm as he holds the door for you. “I read the reviews in advance. Not everything is spicy. Don’t worry.”
“You know me too well.” He throws you a grateful look and leans forward to open the door for you to enter the bistro.
“Good evening.” The hostess at the front of the restaurant knows exactly who you are, just like everyone working tonight does. Just like their entire family does. Getting a visit from the Secret Service and having a discreetly placed photographer arrive just a little while ago gives the whole night an extra flare of the unbelievable. With two menus in her hand, she smiles a shaky, bright grin. “Please come right this way.”
Sam’s hand is on your back, knowing that a lot of eyes are turning from the staff to the patrons. It’s expected when your significant other is a recognizable face. He doesn’t miss that they put you and him at a table in the middle of the room.
There are small vases of red carnations on every table, and candles, and neat purple tablecloths that look like they have been given a little extra pressing for the occasion. You thank the girl politely and smile, not thrilled to have all eyes on you but already knowing that there is nothing you can do about it.
Sam is the one to pull out your chair and help you sit down before he pulls his own chair out. “Shall we order a bottle of wine?” He asks. “Or would that not look good?”
“How about a half bottle?” You suggest, showing him the part of drinks menu that lists half bottles. “Celebratory but responsible.”
“Perfect.” Same agrees, knowing. It wouldn’t be a positive image to have drinking and driving be recorded.
“Whatever you want to choose.” He’s pickier than you are in general, and definitely about wine, so it’s up to him.
He smiles at you in gratitude and immediately dives into the wine list to see what they have available.
“Oysters Rockefeller to start?” As a Maryland boy he loves seafood, and there’s some sort of odd determination in your mind to prove to yourself that your focus is entirely on Sam.
“Absolutely.” He agrees while wholeheartedly and when your server approaches, he finds in a polite smile to give them.
He orders the wine and your appetizer, and beams a smile at the flustered waitress before the two of you are left — sort of — alone again. Agent Bailey has gone to sit with the designated White House photographer at a separate, discreet table. It leaves the two of you to pretend that this is just as normal a date night as any other. “So,” you hum, looking over the menu. “How was work?”
“It was good.” He had kept his office hours short today, like most of the House, so he could get out on time. Plenty of other members had plans or just didn’t show up at all today. “Worked on the bill I want to introduce.”
“How close are you to having the draft done?” The House Judiciary Committee has been an important posting for him, and though you can’t claim to understand the nuance of every single detail of the bill he has been working on, you know that it is a big offering to make from such a new member of the committee.
“First draft is almost complete.” He tells you proudly. “Only a few more hours of work to be honest. My team has been working hard on it.”
“The first bill you’re sponsoring yourself is a big deal. I’m glad you’re proud of it.” Given how much of his work is paperwork and legal-ease, it’s good to have something tangible to work on and be proud of. Certainly not everyone who works in the government can say the same.
“Thank you.” He smiles, leaning back as the waiter comes back with the glasses of wine. “Hopefully it’s just the first of many.”
"I hope so, too." He has high hopes for his career, and you know he'll work hard for it. There's just the tiny voice in the back of your head reminding you that he might not value your success as highly that is bothering you. Still, you raise your glass to him and smile. "Happy Valentine's Day."
“Happy Valentine’s Day, darling.” Sam smiles and taps his glass to yours before taking a sip. “Have you given any thought to my proposal?”
“I thought we could talk about it tonight?” The mention of a proposal specifically makes you shiver in a way you didn’t know you could shiver, but here you are. “Starting with…the logistics of it all.”
He admires the practicality of your statement and nods. “What are your concerns?” He can hear that you have them and hopes that the two of you can come to some kind of agreement. He’s negotiated a lot in his position and knows there is always give and take for things to work.
“I…” He’s practical. Pragmatic. And you know that. It’s something that you have always said you liked about him because it balances against your tendency to dream. “I want to move forward. Take another step.” In your impulse, you reach across the table and take his hand. “But I’m not sure I’m ready yet. So I’d like to do it slowly.”
“Maybe a drawer for when you stay over?” He offers, lifting a brow. “Space for a toothbrush?”
“That’s kind of what I was thinking, yeah.” A relieved smile spreads, glad to see that he isn’t upset at your still moving slowly in this relationship. Moving too fast in the past is what you blame some very serious relationship failures on. “Maybe try to see each other more than just once a week? Work permitting, of course. I know we’re both busy.”
“That was kind of the point of moving in together.” Sam reminds you, although he’s not put out by it. “Maybe we can, but you will have to spend less time at the inn.” He hums. “You are always there. You even live there.”
"I know." That's on you, and you know it. But you still shift in your seat like you've been called to the principle's office. "I have to cut back on late nights. Malachi is more than capable of running the place any time of day and the new night manager is doing really well."
Sam nods, it’s a conversation that he’s had with you several times but nothing has changed so far. “I understand being passionate about your work.” He reminds you with a smile, reaching for your hand. “But I also want you to be passionate about other things too.” He squeezes your fingers. “Maybe kids, one day?”
"You know I want kids." That is never something that you have hemmed or hawed about. Wanting a marriage and a family is something you were pretty up front about. "Kids, a dog, the whole white picket fence thing."
“I know.” It’s a good thing too, because he wants the same thing. Although he knows that can’t really happen if you are running yourself ragged at the inn. “Just wanted to make sure that was still the case.” He jokes.
"It is." Your fingers squeeze his gently. "I haven't changed my mind about what I want."
“That’s good.” Sam smiles and feels a little better about the fact you aren’t jumping at the chance to move in with him. He had expected less resistance if he was honest with himself.
"So the next time I come over I'll bring some things to keep at your place?" A little bag of work clothes and duplicate toiletries at his house sounds positively quaint, but very sweet.
“If that’s what you want.” He agrees, leaning back again when the waiter comes with the appetizer. “Are you still planning on staying tonight?”
You pause long enough to thank the waiter and for both of you to order your entrees and have a sip of your wine after the waiter goes again. "Of course I was planning on it. It's what we talked about. But...I felt like packing a bag to bring over tonight felt a little...presumptuous? I didn't want to jinx it."
“Nothing presumptuous about it.” Sam disagrees with a smile, knowing he would have loved if you had started bringing things over. “But we will do things on your schedule, as long as our end goal is the same.”
End goal. That part still bags at you a little and you still aren’t sure if you’re overreacting. Marcus seemed to agree with us, and so did Sydney…and it’s making you wonder. But will it ruin the night to make a fuss over it? There’s really no way to tell. “I want to make sure we’re on the same page about all of it.” You decide, making sure there is no worry or waver in your voice as you reach for an oyster. It’s just a conversation. Just a conversation with your boyfriend. No big deal. Just clearing the air.
“Good.” There’s a moment’s pause where the two of you start to split the appetizer, each of you tasting it and Sam hums in approval. “I say we live together for at least a year.” He looks up at you. “What do you think?”
“At least a year before what?” The clarification seems important, since the two of you seem to have slightly different expectations. It’s slight, but it’s there.
Sam chuckles slightly. “Before the next step?” He asks playfully, shrugging slightly.
“That makes sense.” But not knowing exactly what he meant makes you feel a little foolish, so you huff a laugh and have another sip of wine. “Of course. That makes perfect sense.”
“You seem off tonight.” Sam tilts his head curiously. “Fight with Sydney? Never thought I would see that.”
“No, god no, nothing like that.” A fight with Sydney is about the farthest thing from the truth. The trouble is…you can’t really tell Sam the truth. It would be a ticking time bomb in the middle of your relationship. To not only think that you might have met your soulmate but to suddenly find yourself caring immensely about what that could mean? Hell, even being attracted to him? It would be a disaster. And you can’t blame him because you would feel exactly the same way if Sam came to you after meeting the girl that the universe says is his perfect match. Instead? All you can really do is make an excuse. “I haven’t really been feeling myself for the past few days.” That is very much true. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t let it affect tonight.”
“Don’t worry about that.” Sam’s brows pull down. “Do we need to ask them to box up our meals? The photographer can take their photos now and we can go home if you aren’t up for a night out.” Despite his own views of how the night would go, he would never drag you around if you’d rather be in bed sleeping.
It’s sweet of him to offer, but you know he would be disappointed. And, unfortunately, no amount of sleep is going to pull you out of the Marcus-shaped funk you have found yourself in. No, sleep won’t help. And tonight is supposed to be about you and Sam, so it’s going to be. “That’s okay,” you assure him, shaking your head and promising yourself that the smile on your face won’t falter again tonight. “I’d rather spend tonight celebrating with you.”
“Okay, if you’re sure.” He’s giving you a doubtful look, but he doesn’t call the waiter over. “Maybe it’s just that you need a night away.” He suggests. “I have a late morning scheduled so we can sleep in.”
“Unfortunately, I have an early morning.” You bite your lip, knowing he’ll hate that. “We have a big event tomorrow night and they’re showing up early in the day. Early bird check in, venue set up, all of it.”
Sam is quiet for a minute and then looks down at his plate again. “Well, I guess that can’t be helped.”
"It's all hands on deck right away." And suddenly you feel horribly guilty about it, even though it's your job. It's something you do out of love and a deep passion for the industry that you've chosen to work in. But a morning of just sleeping in sounds so nice.
“You don’t need to explain.” It’s not like you would change your plans anyway, but it definitely sours the idea he had for the next morning. “You have priorities.”
“Yes, I do. Just like you would if you had a day full of meetings to handle.” He sounds cold, and it bothers you so much more than you would have thought. Like you’d had disappointed your parents with a bad grade on your report card instead of telling your partner than you’re anticipating a demanding work day. “I would support you if that was the case, so I don’t understand why you seem so upset with me.”
“Because we had talked about it.” Sam reminds you. “Two days ago.” He clenches his jaw and takes a breath before releasing it. “You’re right, you have work and it’s important.” He agrees. “Forget I said anything.”
“We did talk about it two days ago. And we talked about me staying over, but not about doing anything the next day. Because I told you weeks ago when this group booked their party that it was going to be a big deal.” Barely managing not to drop your fork in the table, your eyes drop to your lap and you can feel the pressure of disappointment driving at the backs of your eyes like fire and you have to take a deep breath to steady yourself. “I feel like we haven’t been communicating as well as we used to.”
“After we talked about you staying over, I asked if you wanted to have a lazy morning and you said ‘sounds good’.” Sam realizes you had told him about the booking. “We got our signals crossed. It happens. We will need to work on it.”
“Yeah.” You nod, quietly sitting back in your chair again while being very aware of the pairs of eyes that have all turned to witness the First Daughter argue with her boyfriend over their romantic Valentine’s dinner. Fuck. Mom’s going to kill me. “Yeah,” you agree with a vague nod of your head. “We’re just a little off. We’ll work on it.”
“It’s okay.” Sam promises with a smile, reaching out and taking your hand again. He doesn’t want you to be photographed looking unhappy, because then rumors would fly. Public figures aren’t allowed to have bad moments. “We will make the best of tonight.” He tells you. “Or…we can go back to your apartment if you’d prefer?” He offers. “That way you can sleep a little longer?”
"You normally hate staying at my apartment." The water pressure is better at his house, you'll give him that. And the bed is bigger. But the breakfast at your place is far superior every single time.
“I know, but I also know that you have an early morning and I would like to compromise.” He offers.
His hand fits around yours, anchoring you to the table and to him, and you remind yourself to breath. A miscommunication isn't an argument. And even if it is, an argument isn't the end of the world. "I would really like that," you agree, squeezing his hand just a touch. Trying to show him silently how much you appreciate that he's willing to bend a little for you. It has never bothered you that you go to him — stay at his place, attend his work and social events, usually let him pick restaurants for dates as well. But it's nice to feel a little give in your direction as well.
“Alright, then it’s settled.” He nods quickly and smiles at you. “We will have to swing by my house to pick up a change of clothes though.”
"We can do that." You'll tell Agent Bailey after dinner, and the message will get relayed. It will all be fine. Whatever is causing this gap between you and Sam, you'll figure it out. Starting with a little bit of compromise. "And tonight we'll clean out a drawer for you at my place. We'll each have a drawer."
It’s on the tip if his tongue to refuse, to remind you he doesn’t like staying at your place. It’s too busy and he likes privacy in his home, not people coming and going at all times. “It’s a plan.” He decides to say instead, happy that the meal is coming out.
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The restaurant is busy tonight, full up with reservations for dates and girls’ nights out. Tables are packed full and the kitchen is bustling, but Malachi sits calmly at the reception desk making sure that all of the inn’s reservations for the night are being taken care of to the best of his ability. The less you have to worry about tomorrow with that incoming party, the better.
Marcus smiles as he walks up to the desk, guiding Vanessa up with a warm hand on her lower back. He hadn’t wanted to be alone, especially on Valentine’s Day, so he had once again tried one of the dating apps. Tinder Without Marks was kind of the opposite of Mate Marks and he appreciated that. There wasn’t any emphasis on tattoos or scars, just on personalities. He had been talking to Vanessa since you had bailed on his offer of dinner and tonight was the first date. “Reservation for Pike.” He greets Malachi warmly.
"Special Agent Pike!" Malachi was not going to forget that face or those shoulders anytime soon, and he smiles genuinely for what seems like the first time all night. Holidays are always a lot of extra running around. "Reservation for the restaurant tonight?" He would have noticed the name if the FBI agent had reserved a room at the inn. He definitely would have noticed that.
“Yes.” Marcus nods and smiles. “How are you Malachi?” He remembers the concierge’s name and greets him like a friend. “I knew that coming here would be a fantastic treat.”
“And…Miss D’Amario.” When the concierge’s eyes light on the woman beside Special Agent Pike, he nearly bursts out laughing. This is going to be the biggest gossip amongst the staff. Multiple staffs. “Does chef know to expect you? Or should I let her know?”
Marcus tilts his head and looks at Vanessa. “I didn’t realize you’ve been here before.” He had told her where he had made reservations, but she hadn’t said. “Do you come often?”
“Once or twice.” She admits with a sheepish smile as Malachi comes out from behind the desk to escort them into the restaurant. “Usually just to run errands. My boss…he comes here a lot.”
“Interesting coincidence.” Marcus muses as the two of them follow Malachi. “You never actually said who you worked for.” He reminds her.
She hadn’t. That’s true. Because on a dating website all kinds of information can get taken out of context or photoshopped into other things. All she had said before now is that she works on Capitol Hill. “Congressman Chase.” She tells her date, a little more secure in handing this information over after having looked into him and agreeing to this dinner. A girl can never be too careful, after all. “I’m the senior aide in his office.”
To his credit, Marcus doesn’t freeze, although his eyes blow wide. He can hear Malachi snicker quietly, although the agent isn’t sure why. Even though he doesn’t have anything against the congressman, the knowledge that she is his senior aide dulls the excitement of the date almost immediately. “I met him just the other day.” Marcus admits. “My friend and former colleague is the event planner here.”
“You know Juan?” Vanessa seems to ease immediately, the tension of meeting a stranger off the Internet soothing with the knowledge that Juan Badillo is an excellent judge of character. “Okay. So you know who owns the inn, then. And why I’m running errands here fairly often.” She smiles when Marcus pulls out her chair for her and thanks him before sitting. “I’ve always wanted to try the restaurant but never have a chance.”
Marcus smiles and nods, even though he’s not exactly sure how this dynamic would work. “Then it’s a good thing I got reservations here.” He tells her and picks up the menu. “Do you want some wine? I think I would like some.”
“That sounds great.” She nods happily, not catching the change in his demeanor even in the last few seconds.
He’s still not going to be rude. Vanessa is a lovely woman, and he shouldn’t feel guilty for being here on a date with her. Not even if you know her and she works for your boyfriend. “Are you a red, white or rosé kind of woman?” He asks, scanning the selections and looking back up at her.
“Usually white. But if you like red I’m happy to try something new.” Vanessa is happy to let Marcus take the lead, not feeling strong enough one way or the other to have a preference.
“There’s a wonderful Prosecco on the menu.” Marcus offers, lifting his brows. “It’s Valentine’s Day after all, and we aren’t alone. We should celebrate.”
"Perfect." Her smile spreads again and she sits back, looking over the menu and regarding the man across from her. "So what department of the FBI are you in? We haven't really talked about work yet."
“Art Crimes.” He supplies wondering where you and Sam are. A discreet glance around the restaurant was a relief and a disappointment not to come up with you. “I’m actually the head of the department.”
"So...is that forgeries and thieves? Like in caper movies?" Vanessa sounds suitably impressed even though it isn't the part of FBI work that gets glorified on tv or in movies. "I didn't know that was a whole department on its own. You must have a lot of responsibility."
“It’s a lot of paperwork.” Marcus admits. “Although I’m sure you have plenty yourself.” He chuckles. “I wish that it was like the movies, or that show White Collar that was on a few years ago. I could use a Neal Caffery sometimes.”
"Oh, I don't think I've ever seen it. I guess I have a little homework to do." On whatever the show is, plus on art as a whole. Art class or art history...museums in general aren't really Vanessa's thing. It just never seemed very practical. "Paperwork is okay when there's a rhythm to it. Sometimes I even turn on music quietly in the office while I'm copying and filing. It's really helpful even though it's kind of a no-no."
“Why would that be a no-no?” He wonders if Sam is a stick in the mud. “Most of the time, I encourage my team to listen to music, it helps engage your mind.”
"We try not to have anything on in the office that could interfere with being understood on the phone," she explains, like it's some kind of party line or sage advice that has been handed down to her. "Staying on message is important. And it's hard to stay on message if you can't be heard."
“And what’s your message?” He asks, finding it slightly intense, but he’s not the politician.
"Right now, our message is about serving our community. Working to bring business into our district without threatening existing small businesses, and making sure that we take safety standards into account." Obviously very proud of her work, Vanessa sits up straight in her chair and folds her hands in her lap with the air of someone being interviewed. "The Congressman is paving his own path and we're all on board for the ride."
“I see.” He can approve of such a message, admire it even. The congressman is obviously working for the best of his district and there is something noble about that. “That’s a good message to have.”
“It really is.” When Vanessa nods, it’s eager. “He’s on the fast track to the White House. It’s a privilege to get to work for him now.”
“A fast track, you say?” Marcus works so hard to keep from frowning, not liking the way that it makes it seem as if you are a steppingstone for Sam. Even though that shouldn’t bother him as much as it does.
“Absolutely.” She pauses long enough for the waiter to return for their drink order and explain the beautiful Valentine’s prix fixe menu before leaving them be again for a few minutes. “Congressman Chase has seven more years to be the youngest president ever elected, and he can do it.”
“That’s a lofty ambition.” Marcus agrees, wondering how much of dating the current president’s daughter is included in those plans for the White House.
“It’s going to be great.” She laughs, not the least self-conscious, but shrugs her shoulders. “I like my job a lot. Sorry if I get carried away a little.”
“Nothing to be sorry for.” Marcus waves that away, although he’s sure he sees hero worship in Vanessa’s eyes, and perhaps a crush on her boss. Nothing wrong with that unless they are being inappropriate and he can’t see the congressman doing that with his ambitions. Some congressmen, sure, but not Sam. “I wish a lot more people enjoyed their jobs like that.”
“It makes hard work worth it,” she agrees, though she does demure and tuck a stray hair behind her ear. “You…must love art? To be so involved with those crimes specifically?”
“I have come to really appreciate it.” Marcus tells her. “I never really stopped to look and think about much art before, but some weekends, I enjoy going through the museums for pleasure and not trying to research a piece.”
"DC is a very good place if you like museums." Even if she's not very big on them herself, she knows that to be absolutely true. It's where she ends up bringing family whenever they visit, so she has seen quite a few of the Smithsonian museums by now. She'd just rather be at a game.
“They are nice. Especially if a game gets rained out.” Marcus agrees, leaning back when the waiter comes back with the first course. “Thank you.” He hums and looks up at Vanessa. “This looks amazing.”
“It really does.” Vanessa looks as delighted as Marcus does and she offers him a sincere smile. “I’m very glad you decided to ask me out tonight.”
“I am too.” He smiles at her even if he feels guilty that he’s not as glad has he had been before he realized the connection to Sam Chase and therefore….you. He picks up his Prosecco and holds it up. “To positive first dates.”
“Absolutely.” Their glasses make lovely clink as they tap together and Vanessa smiles again, very glad that she decided to take this step to try to get over the crush she has on her boss.
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“Looks like the inn is fairly packed tonight.” Sam hums as he pulls into the employee only portion of the oyster shell parking lot. He’s not upset for you business-wise, but he wished there weren’t so many people there.
“The night manager had the idea to keep our sitting room open for some live music, and it seems like people have stayed. It must have been a success.” The rooms aren’t sold out tonight because there are early check-ins for that party in the morning, but managing to keep people in house and engaged is a huge deal.
“Interesting concept.” Sam’s not really sure if that would attract the kind of clientele that you want here, but he’s a politician, not an inn owner. “Hopefully not too late?” He asks, wondering if it will be noisy into the late night. That’s not romantic.
“It should be over soon,” you promise him, seeing that your watch reads almost eleven o’clock.
“Good.” Once out of the car, he rushes around the hood and wraps his arm around your waist. “I don’t want them to interrupt our plans for tonight.”
“Nothing’s going to interrupt us.” Heading for the back door, you can pop right into the elevator to head upstairs without having to interrupt anything that’s going on or get sidetracked by Malachi. You just want to take a peak into the sitting room but that’s all. “And you can sleep in, in the morning after I’ve tired you out.”
"Is that a promise?" Sam asks playfully, allowing you to lead him away from the elevator and down the hall.
"Absolutely." The rest of the date had smoothed out, being a relatively quiet and pleasant night Now that you're back at the inn with a bag of Sam's things to stash away in your bureau, you're feeling a little bit flirtier and more upbeat. "And when you come downstairs after you finally drag that excellent butt out of bed, I'll have Syd make you some breakfast."
“I do love her breakfasts.” Sam groans, smirking at you playfully. “So you are planning on wearing me out completely?” He squeezes your waist and looks ahead towards the music.
"I'd say you deserve a night of intensely deep sleep, and I intend to make sure you get it." There is a little line waiting for the elevator as guests start to go up to their rooms for the night, so you hang back with Sam and look toward the sitting room instead. The music coming through is atmospheric and sweet and you are right about to lean your head on Sam's chest while you wait — when you spot someone unexpected in the sitting room.
Marcus had decided that just because Vanessa works for Sam doesn’t mean that he can’t have a nice night with her. The music had sounded lovely floating from the sitting room and he had asked if she wanted to stay. Now, they are dancing and he hasn’t thought about you in at least five minutes.
It's not exactly a gasp, but you end up trying to swallow whatever noise of surprise you were going to make when you spotted Marcus with his date in the the other room — and instead of keeping your reaction to yourself you end up choking on your own damn spit and coughing hard enough to worry Sam.
“Are you alright?” Sam pats your back and leans in with a worried look on his face while you wave him away. “What’s—” he glances around the room and immediately stiffens. “What is he doing with Vanessa?” He asks, his voice bristled with a slight anger he can’t shake.
"Vanessa?" You hadn't even seen who he was with, just choked at the sight of Marcus enjoying a quiet, romantic moment with another woman — something which you know shouldn't bother you but it had been a whole five minutes since the last time you thought about him so apparently that is your maximum. "Like your aide Vanessa?"
“How does he know her?” Sam ignores the question, staring holes into the FBI agent that is currently slow dancing with said aide and making her beam up at him in a way that has Sam wanting to drag her away from him.
"I don't know." He's practically fuming, and your forehead furrows as you turn your eyes back from the couple in the other room to Sam beside you. "Why does it matter?"
“I find it funny—” his tone definitely says otherwise, “that this man just magically shows up, gets invited to a game night and is now cozying up to my top aide.” Sam knows that he’s already been tagged by the DNC as a rising star, his own seat on the council is indicative of that, and now there’s this FBI that is showing up everywhere.
"He's friends with Juan." The defense in your voice is impossible to miss, and you cross your arms defiantly over your chest like you're waiting for him to pick a fight. "Maybe they were introduced by a mutual friend? Met in a coffee shop? Found each other on a dating app? Who knows?"
“And they just happened to book your inn as a date?” He scoffs slightly, unable to believe that fanciful tale and narrows his eyes as Marcus twirls Vanessa around and pulls her back against him.
"Why don't you go interrupt them and find out if you're so curious?" This has taken a very deep turn for the worse, and you can only be glad that the last guests waiting for the elevator near you have gone up so you're more or less alone now. Of course Agent Bailey is nearby, but she never comments.
“No.” He wants to. That’s the problem, and he knows it’s not a good move. Frowning, he turns away from the dancing couple. “Let’s go upstairs. The music is horrible.”
It's not. At all. But this isn't about the music and both of you know that silently even if it isn't said out loud. Sam jams his thumb in the 'Up' button for the elevator again but you say nothing, glancing back at the sitting room one more time to wonder if Sam is upset about the date that is happening for the same reason you are. And if he is...what does that mean for the two of you?
Once upstairs, Sam steps out of the elevator and sighs. “Can we just have the apartment to ourselves?” He directs his question to Agent Bailey, not looking at you.
There are certain protocols that have to be upheld, and Agent Bailey looks to you before starting them. “Ma’am?”
In your mind it’s awfully rude, knowing that asking her to sit in the hallway means hours and hours of uncomfortable sitting, but you also know that Sam is…in less than a good mood right now. And while you’re cranky too, you would rather try to smooth things over if you can. “If…you wouldn’t mind?”
“Please stay here.” Bailey directs you both. She’ll do a sweep of the apartment to make sure no one is waiting for you, and then she’ll take a chair into the hallway. She won’t say so, but she doesn’t mind not hearing a fight if it happens. Or the makeup sex. Neither one is her favorite.
Once you two are alone, Sam sets his bag down, aware that the mood of the evening is ruined and it’s his fault. “Do you want me to leave?” He asks, not even sure if he wants to stay at this point. Especially if Vanessa and that agent will also be spending the night under this roof. He’s not happy to see his best aide here, and usually he’s always happy to see her.
“Can you explain to me why you’re so upset?” It’s definitely uncomfortable, this tension that hangs in the air now, and you try not to let your eyes drop to the right before going back to him. You didn’t do anything wrong. You were just surprised. He’s the one who got mad.
“It’s— I’m not—” There’s not a rational reason why he’s upset, and logically he knows this. “I don’t like the fact this man seems to be everywhere.” You had told him about meeting Marcus at the market and it seems as if he’s suddenly everywhere when a few weeks ago, no one knew this man was even in the area. “Strange in my eyes.”
“It’s just a coincidence.” That’s what you’ve told yourself, anyway. It has nothing at all — nothing whatsoever — to do with the universe putting you into situations where you’ll bump into each other. Not at all. “The Secret Service did a background check on him. He’s totally clear.”
“Then I guess I’m just overreacting.” Sam sighs and wipes a hand down his face. “I should go.” He knows that if he stays, the night won’t proceed like it was planned and he’s better off going home. You don’t seem too happy with him. “Unless you want me to stay?”
What you want, and what you should do, and what seems like the healthiest decision for your mental health all are different things. You should tell him to stay, brush it off, and try to salvage the evening. You want to go downstairs and interrupt that damn date to find out if Marcus Pike is as good a dancer as he seemed to be in the small space of the sitting room. But what’s best for your mental health? Is probably neither of those things. “Maybe I can come over this weekend and we can try to have a less stressful night at your place instead?”
Sam is silent for a moment and then nods. Understanding that something has fundamentally shifted in your relationship and trying to figure out what that might mean for the future. “Sounds good.” He agrees and looks at his bag before picking it up. “I’m sorry about how the night ended.”
“So am I.” The air between you feels different. Colder or heavier or just more tense, but you won’t back down just for the comfort of having him next to you in bed tonight. That isn’t fair to either of you.
Instead of a romantic kiss, Sam leans in and presses his lips to your cheek. “I’ll text you when I get home.” He promises, stepping back and frowning slightly before nodding. He had honestly expected you to change your mind, but he won’t beg to stay, knowing it’s not the best idea.
“Get home safe.” A long moment passes with thick air hanging between you before Sam nods again and opens the door, stepping out of your apartment and back in to the elevator. “It’s just us tonight,” you tell Agent Bailey, who comes back into the room the moment she hears the door. “The Congressman has gone home for the night.” And of referring to him by his title instead of his name isn’t a big fucking clue to you right then and there, it should be.
It’s not surprising, given the way the evening has turned sour, but it’s not her place to say anything. “Very well.” She nods. “If you need anything, let me know.” She intends to stay outside and let you sulk if you need to. She hadn’t missed ’the Congressman’ title instead of Sam.
“You can stay inside.” Banishing your Secret Service detail to the hallway is one more thing that rubbed you the wrong way. “I’m just going to go to bed. But the coffee you like…the vanilla caramel one? It in the cupboard above the coffee maker. Any time you want to make some.”
“Thank you.” The couch you don’t mind her sitting on is a lot more comfortable than the chair in hallway and she appreciates that you don’t mind her using the bathroom either. “Is there anything you need before you go to bed?”
“No.” You’re too afraid to ask if you did wrong by letting Sam go home, so you don’t even consider it. “Tomorrow’s an early morning. Agent Sisson coming to relieve you early?”
“Five.” She nods. “If you need to be up earlier, I will be here.”
"I won't be up until after that." Unless you can't sleep, which is a serious possibility considering how poorly the night went and how half of your thoughts are currently downstairs in the sitting room. "So I'll see you tomorrow, Agent Bailey."
“Goodnight, ma’am.” It’s best to keep things formal, although she feels bad that your evening did not end up like it was supposed to. And incredibly interested in the reaction of the congressman to Marcus Pike’s presence.
"Good night." Going to your room alone isn't what you wanted for tonight, but it feels like it's for the best. All you can do now is hope that you sleep.
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The next morning is a flurry of activity, but Sydney notices that you aren’t rushing in from the parking lot when you come into the kitchen, looking like you didn’t get much sleep last night. “Good morning sunshine.” She teases, reaching for the coffee pot to pour you a cup.
Teasing barely earns her a grumble in return, but you gratefully accept the cup of coffee she pours you and turn to doctor it immediately. “That early check-in group should be here in a half hour.”
“I already have a breakfast spread ready for them.” She motions to the counter and the baskets she has already started filling with baked goods. The bowl of fresh fruit is inside a hollowed-out watermelon. “I couldn’t sleep.” She explains. “Indigestion.”
“There’s a joke in there about swallowing too much cum, but I’m too tired to make it.” You huff though, trying for a smile for your best friend. “It looks great, Syd. Thank you for working so hard.”
She sees through you instantly and frowns, moving around the counter and wiping her hands on the ever present rag tucked into the pocket of her chef’s jacket. “What’s wrong?” She asks, feeling your forehead and looking like an over anxious mother hen worrying over her baby. “Are you not feeling good? Juan, Malachi and I can handle this if you need us to.”
“Not a chance.” Considering you never take sick days even when you’re actually sick, there is no way you would make your team handle a big event without you. “It’s nothing. I just…had a bad night. That’s all.”
“Everything alright?” She frowns, tutting at your stubbornness and moving over to the espresso machine to give you a shot to help boost you up.
“Sam and I had a little…series of tiffs,” you admit with a sigh. There is a pan of her fresh baked broscia nearby and the Sicilian brioche-style bread is calming to you to be crammed full with jam and butter so you grab one still warm. “We got into it at the restaurant over me having to be at work early today and then again later when he flipped out about Marcus being here on his date.”
“Marcus?” Her head whips around and she gives you an utterly confused look. “One, why was he here? Two, why was Sam upset about that?”
“He must have stayed after dinner. For the musician that Malachi brought in.” Sam had been cranky about it, but you thought the singer at the piano had been lovely. “He…uh…Marcus, that is…did you see who his date was? When they came in for dinner last night?”
“I didn’t see, it was crazy in the kitchen, but Malachi told me that it was Vanessa.” She huffs. “How the hell do they know each other?”
“I don’t know. But the same question made Sam so upset that he ended up leaving my apartment last night instead of staying over.” The best you can do is shrug your shoulders. Because as much as it bothers you? You know why it does. There’s no mystery there, only guilt. “He thinks there’s something suspicious about Marcus, apparently.”
“Something suspicious about Marcus Pike?” She chokes out, trying not to laugh at the absurdity of it. “The FBI agent? The man who was an Eagle Scout?” She and Juan had pulled that nugget of information out of him at game night.
“Because apparently, he’s ‘suddenly everywhere’ when none of us had seen him before.” Jam and butter join your bread roll and you sigh a little at the comfort of it. “I think it’s just confirmation bias. Like we probably were in the same places as him before, we just didn’t know to look for him.”
“Well…Juan would have recognized him.” Syd reminds you. “So that’s not exactly true, but I understand what you mean.” She sighs and hesitates for a moment. “Do you think it’s him or because he was with Vanessa?” She knows the other woman has a crush on Sam, it’s obvious from the hero worship stars in her eyes when she’s around. She knows Sam isn’t the type to cheat, but maybe there’s some feelings there that are repressed.
“I feel like that didn’t help.” Coffee and a little breakfast is helping. You can think a little straighter even if you don’t like the thoughts. “I know Vanessa has a thing for him. It’s not subtle. But before now I didn’t think there was cause for concern the other way.”
“It could be that Sam thinks that Vanessa could give away information that he could use if Marcus wanted to cause problems between you and Sam.” She rationalizes. “Slightly conspiracy theorist in my mind, but I could see how it could be construed.” Sydney enjoys playing Devil’s advocate, even if she likes Marcus and doesn’t think he is angling for anything.
“Before last week, I didn’t think there were problems between me and Sam.” It’s disconcerting to realize, as you stand here and talk through it with your best friend, that your relationship has not been as steady as you once thought. “Now? I don’t know.”
“Other than his overreaction, what makes you think that?” She asks, aware that you’ve been a little edgy lately but every relationship has ups and downs at times.
“He seems…really agitated lately. Much more upset than usual about having an agent around. Last night he wanted Agent Bailey to sit out in the hall while we slept, how does that make sense? And making comments about the future of our relationship to other people?” To Vanessa’s parents, now that you think about it. It sometimes slips your mind that his most trustworthy aide is also the only daughter of one of his largest donors. “Everything just feels on edge.”
“Have you talked about all this? Like really sat down and talked?” She frowns, not liking what she is hearing, although it could just be a case of miscommunication.
“Before now there hasn’t really been a reason.” Or at least, there hasn’t been such an obvious compilation of reasons. “And considering he never texted me back when he got home last night, now I’m wondering if he’ll be willing to sit down and hash things out.”
“I’m sorry.” She slides the shot of espresso over and reaches for your hand. “I like Sam, but if it doesn’t work out, it’s better to find out now, than down the road.”
“With the whole soulmate thing and now this kind of…weird accumulation of things?” You shake your head and just sort of shrug awkwardly. “I feel discouraged in a way that I really wasn’t expecting.”
“I’m sorry.” Immediately feeling guilty, Sydney’s shoulders drop and she bites her lip. “I shouldn’t have teased you about finding out what kind of hummingbird tattoo he has.” She hadn’t expected it to cause so many problems, or for you to be so resistant to it. Before Sam, you would have demanded to see the tattoo right away just to disprove the soulmate theory. “What can I do to help you?”
“Honey, you’re growing a literal human. You have enough to deal with.” It’s disheartening, and confusing, and frankly you’re shocked that you’re so willing to throw up your hands. That’s not like you at all.
“That doesn’t mean I can’t and won’t be there for my best friend.” She argues, frowning at you. “Your shit is my shit, remember? I’ll be expecting you to do a rotation getting up with the baby.” She jokes, wanting you to laugh a little.
"If we still lived together, I absolutely would." Being in this apartment upstairs is actually the first time you've ever lived alone — taking over the role of caretaker for the inn when Sydney moved out of the apartment you had been renting in Old Town to buy a house with her soulmate. "At this point I feel like I'm between a rock and a hard place...and one of those blockages is purely made up of how confused I am over...just feeling like I want to throw in the towel instead of working things out. That's not who I am. Or not who I have been."
“Honey, sometimes you just…don’t want to work things out. That doesn’t make you a failure.” She hums. “You might just realize that you have different goals.”
"But why do I feel that way?" There's only a few bites of your bun left and you know that today is going to be a peckish day. You tend to nibble when you're worried. "Is it just because I'm having doubts? And why am I even having doubts? It's...soulmates never mattered to me before this."
“Maybe it’s because of the man and not the soulmate aspect?” She probes gently. “Let me ask you this….if you weren’t in a relationship with Sam, would you be interested in Marcus. Even without the soulmate possibility?”
"I—" It feels dirty. A kind of guilt you really don't like and makes your skin crawl. But this isn't a situation you're going to lie about. Not when you're literally asking your best friend for help. "I mean...probably. Yeah."
“Then you should step back. From Marcus or Sam, that decision is yours. But some space might be needed to figure out what you are feeling.” Syd suggests.
"All the social media shit from our date last night is going to go viral really fast if anyone gets a whiff that we've broken up." Just as astonishing as the idea that you would even consider ending things, it's alarming how fast your heart knows the right decision to make. Or at least what you perceive as right in this moment. "It's going to be a shitshow..."
Sydney doesn’t comment on the fact that it seems like you’ve made up your mind, just humming. “Take it slow. It doesn’t have to be some kind of announcement.”
"The last thing I want is to have to make an announcement." The end of your coffee cup comes all too soon, and you fill it up again with a sigh. This morning is going to be a lot for many different reasons. "Syd...you would stop me if you thought I was making the wrong choice, right?"
“I would definitely try to talk to you.” She promises. “I like Sam, I really do, but if you don’t see yourself marrying him, well—” she shrugs. “Just give yourself a week, how about that?”
"Have I really reached the point in my life where it's not worth staying with someone that I don't see myself marrying?" That is a fairly rude awakening because of how honest it is, and you stifle a groan in one hand. "You're right, and I know you're right. But the State Dinner for the Spanish royal visit is in just over a week. The last thing I want is to have to go to that alone."
“To make it fair, give yourself that time.” She tells you. “Give him an honest try and if you still can’t see it, then you have your answer because Sam is the type to want marriage.”
"I want to get married, too." You always have. Ever since you were little. You reveled in family weddings and dreaming in your own big day. You had even talked to Marcus about it at the market. But whenever the future comes up with Sam, it ends up feeling tense now. "I just...it's a lot to even think about, Syd. You and Juan just...you're so good together. I don't think I'll ever get that lucky."
“I think you will.” She encourages. “My relationship with Juan isn’t without work.” She reminds you. “We still have to communicate and work through issues.”
"But it's worth it because you love each other so much." The sentence is out of your mouth before you have a chance to really sit on what you're saying, and just seconds after you hear yourself say it, your shoulders fall in defeat. "Oh...fuck..."
“What is it?” She asks, frowning at the way you just seemed to deflate.
"It's worth it for you and Juan to work through your issues because you love each other so much." Repeating the phrase makes it hurt all the more, because you didn't realize until this exact moment that it doesn't apply to you. At least, not anymore. "I...don't think I feel the same way..."
“Oh honey.” Her expression softens and she is immediately around the counter again, this time pulling you in for a big hug.
"I'm okay," you insist, through very obvious tears that announce the contrary. "I'm okay." You have to be. You have work to do, and you can't greet a large family party here to announce and celebrate an engagement with runny mascara. "I...have to be okay."
“Listen.” She lets you go and takes your shoulder to look you in the eyes. “You are going upstairs. Ahhh.” She stops you when you start to protest. “Take ten minutes, take an hour, take all day, but take some time to yourself before you start running around dealing with the very obvious results of love.” She tells you. “I can get them started with food and then Juan can take over to take them to the venue.” She shakes her head, huffing when you open your mouth again. “No, I’m not listening. Now go.”
"I'll be back in ten minutes." The best thing you can do for yourself today is keep busy, but she's right that you need to have a clear head for things to go well. "I just...I didn't know this was going to happen today. Or ever."
“I know, babe.” She squeezes you again and sighs. “But I’m here for you. Completely.”
"Thank you, love." Squeezing her tight against you as much as you can, you steal your second coffee away with you from the kitchen and head back upstairs with Agent Sisson following behind.
Sydney sighs as she looks at the door you disappear through for a moment before turning back to her work. The best way she can help you right now, is to make sure the incoming clients are happy.
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Walking out through the back hall, you clutch your mug of coffee and try to hang onto a thread of dignity until you get back upstairs. There are more tears pressing at the back of your eyes and you absolutely do not want them shed in public. The elevator is in use, apparently, and you jam your finger in the button a second time for good measure before blowing out a sigh. What a great fucking Valentine’s last night turned out to be, and what a terrible fucking day this is looking like…
The little toiletry kits provided in the rooms are a godsend and both Marcus and Vanessa quickly clean up after the alarm had woken them. “Can’t believe we drank so much and we don’t have hangovers.” Marcus hums, riding the elevator down to get a quick breakfast with his Valentine’s date. They had ended up finishing a bottle and then having another few glasses while dancing. Feeling too drunk to safely get home, the night manager had agreed to let them take one of the rooms on the promise they would check out early. He has been grateful and eagerly agreed. “How about you?”
“Normally I would say I’m still drunk,” Vanessa admits with a sheepish laugh. “But I’m okay. I think it’s just a miracle and I’m not in the habit of questioning those. Though I could use some breakfast.”
“I’ll get you fed and then get you home so you won’t be late to work.” Marcus promises. He will be late, but he had already told his team to come in late, so it’s just paperwork that he’s missing.
“In case no one has ever told you before, you are a consummate caretaker.” It makes a girl like Vanessa feel very special, who spend her working hours caring for someone else and her downtime making sure to live up to her parents’ expectations, and while Marcus Pike isn’t quite her dream man — he’s handsome and sweet and she would be stupid to ignore that.
"I like to make sure people are happy and safe around me." Marcus shrugs off the praise with a small grin. "I took you from your house, it's only right I deliver you back to it." He hums as the elevator stops and dings before the doors open. "Now to get you fed."
When the elevator doors slide open in front of you, the most unwelcome sight in the world is waiting. The vision of Marcus Pike and Vanessa D’Amario in the same clothing you saw them wearing last night, looking refreshed and giddy huddled together in one corner of the elevator car makes you want to turn on your heel and flee back into the kitchen. And you probably would, if you weren’t rooted to the spot in shock and trying to remember how to breathe.
Vanessa murmurs your name in surprise. "I—I didn't expect to see you here this morning!" Her eyes dart around, almost nervously as she expects Sam to pop up. "I—uh, is Congressman Chase here?" She asks, "I thought— he said that you had a date." Normally dates between you and Sam included sleepovers.
“He’s not here.” You won’t invite questions by giving extra information, but when your feet remember how to work, you step out of the way to let them off the elevator. “I—um—I was just headed upstairs.” Sam is going to be in a very foul mood if he’s coming off a bad night and Vanessa walks in looking freshly fucked, and that almost makes you sob all over again. “N—nice to see you, Vanessa. Marcus.”
Marcus can't even do more than just nod and lift his hand and wave slightly, feeling foolish as he watches the doors slide closed and your eyes meet his in a kind of silent agony. "Well," Vanessa giggles and Marcus can't help the way that he swallows guiltily, like he's done something wrong. "I guess that's one way for my boss to learn I had a date."
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Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer
HHL: @haileymorelikestupid @anoverwhelmingdin @storiesofthefandomlovers @missladym1981 @babeincolor @storiesofthefandomlovers
My Masterlist!
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wwry2018 · 9 months
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Curse of Yes/No
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My name was Jace, I was 26 living in the suburbs of Sydney, it was getting close to the end of my year at uni and my girlfriend Sherry wanted me to go out and have some fun. She slid over a flyer for a local festival. A Halloween festival.
We don’t really celebrate Halloween in Australia. But as time has gone on it seems to be more and more present. Decorations being available to buy in stores, kids talking about trick or treating and festivals and street markets advertising Halloween themes.
My friends wanted me to go to one that was on tonight in town. It promised Fall themed food, spooky rides and classic Halloween fun. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to go or not. Usually I let others decide for me. And it was hot as hell. Fall themed food wasn’t what I was looking for when it was 35 degrees c in the shade. But as I said I wasn’t big on making decisions. 
So my best mate Ricky said he would pick me up at 8pm and we would go and have a look. Sherry was working late and said it would be good for me to get out and try to relax. Being a third year accounting student it didn’t come easy. She said go relax just don’t let Ricky get you drunk.
He picked me up at 8 as he said and I climbed in his car, “Jesus man, for a doctor you don’t exactly promote healthy lifestyle  do you?” Smoke was billowing out of he car “it’s my one vice, I know it’s not healthy but hey I’m addicted and I enjoy it” “is that your professional opinion?’ ‘Shut the fuck up and let’s go” we drove towards the fete.
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He picked me up at 8 as he said and I climbed in his car, “Jesus man, for a doctor you don’t exactly promote healthy lifestyle  do you?” Smoke was billowing out of he car “it’s my one vice, I know it’s not healthy but hey I’m addicted and I enjoy it” “is that your professional opinion?’ ‘Shut the fuck up and let’s go” we drove towards the fete.
As we walk into the festival it has this classic spooky horror theme of a gypsy caravan.. There are rides and haunted mansions to walk through but mostly it’s to theme. Ricky spots a fortune teller carriage at the end of a line. ‘Perfect” he says. ‘This is what you need. Go get your answers as you can never decide for yourself’. I um’d and ah’d if I should do it or not. Ricky just said ‘exactly” he put $50 in my hand and pushed me in the tent yelling”I’m going to hit on the hot carnie, have fun”
I tumbled inside and looked around seeing a man lounging in a chair having a drink. ‘I’m so sorry’ I said gathering myself.
‘My Friend was being pushy, literally and wanted me to have my fortune read, but I don’t know if I should or not. It’s not a very me thing to do, I mean it sounds like fun and all but, you’re here I don’t see an old crone and a crystal ball anywhere. Haha ‘
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Old crone and crystal ball. Well that’s not a very nice stereotype!’ The man said. ‘ but I wouldn’t expect a ginger accountant named Jace to come for a reading in Australian either, so I guess we are even.’
‘How do you know my name? ‘ I said in shock and backing towards the door.
‘We are not all old crones or female, that was just to show you I’m the real deal. Com now sit. Ricky has paid for your thirty minutes, let’s not waste this.’ He says as he walks behind me and guides me to a chair across from him. ‘Hold out your hand, palm up’ I do so in shock and almost trance, I’ve never been a big believer but I always believe  in what I experienced.
He looks at my palm only briefly and starts to speak. ‘ you are not on the right path’. I snap out of it. ‘Really ?” ‘I thought accounting was the right fit.’  
‘Nothing is right’ accounting, your clothes, Sherry. All wrong, because all were not your choice. You simply let others decide for you, so now you are on the wrong path. Ricky. Ricky is the one right thing in your life. He will be the one to correct it. Trust in Ricky. Ironically it will take someone else to tell you what to do to make you get on the right path and choose your destiny’
As I snatch my hand away I get upset ‘what do you mean, all is wrong with me. Who says that to a person. And I love Sherry, I’m going to marry her,…. I think’ ‘I don’t know who you are or how you know these things but it’s wrong.’
As I go to storm to the exit I feel like I’m in a tumble dryer the world spins on its axis. I look back and the Gypsy  is muttering and then spits at me. ‘ I give you a Curse! Not to hurt but help’ as I steady myself he walks towards me. ‘Use this to your advantage, not all curse’s can be detrimental. Until the clock strikes 12. Any question that is asked of a Yes. Or. A No. the opposite will be a reality. It has the power to rearrange you future your past. So be wise young Jace. And remember my words Ricky is the one to put you on a try path. Go now
I stumbled out of the carriage dazed wondering what had just happened. I looked at my watch. It was 9:15 pm. Sherry would be here soon and we can go home. I wasn’t looking and a bumped into a guy. “ watch where you’re going mate!” He yelled. “ hey do you smoke? Can I bum one?” 
As I went  to say no it was as if time slowed down and rewound very quickly to the day in the 8th grade when Tommy Doyle asked me to meet him behind the sheds at school to try smoking, he stole a pack from his dad. I had said no, but in this flash I has said yes. I joined Tommy, I had memory flood through my brain of school and uni and clubs always smoking, my friends were a little bit different to,, Ricky was there of course but they all didn’t seem so straight laced, my clothes seemed to feel looser, darker a little more edgier, I felt slightly more confident and strangely fitter, felt my arm tingle as a tattoo appeared as the spin came back to reality.
‘Yeah sure man”  I think passed him the packet and lit the lighter from my pocket, “ sorry I wasn’t watching where I was going”
 ‘No problem” as the guy walked away I looked back and the gypsy was standing in the door way, laughing.
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Something didn’t seem right, I turned to to go taking an another deep inhale on my smoke. I needed to find Ricky and get home to Sherry.
This is the first of a few chapters, let me know if I should continue.
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yannaryartside · 8 months
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SydCarmy vs Lucus
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AMBITIONS AND PERSPECTIVES ON ART
This is a long one. Is about the series's themes on pursuing the arts, and the reasons that this ships work as symbolism for it.
When thinking about the reasons Marcus and Sydney were not going to work out (as far as we can see), I read a comment saying: "they are not on the same level" and the more I thought about it, I realized it not only meant they are not equal in culinary expertise, but they also have different ways to "live" their path in the culinary arts, almost opposite philosophies about it. And all of it is explained in their conversations with their (possible) romantic interest. 
WHAT IS AN ART PHILOSOPHY?
When you enter a path in the arts, any part, at some point, you will have to make decisions about how you are going to transit this path because there are very different ways to live a creative life, to make money out of it, and how feel fulfilled about it. Many people will enter their path with an idea of what success looks like, probably modeled after an artist that you admired, the desire for your art to be recognized as good, or as "the best," or even to disrupt what came before you. Shortly, art philosophy is how you value your path in the arts: What makes it good art? What point of your career is gonna bring you satisfaction? What guides you to it?
CARMY AND SIDNEY : "LET'S BE THE BEST AND REACH LOST OF PEOPLE"
They both want to be "the best," their definition of it equals stars, reviews, magazine interviews, and restaurant numbers. The creative impulse is only as valuable as is booming, and a chef is only as good as the size of their kitchen.
They both want exterior recognition and aspire to a big audience, and their satisfaction in their craft depends on that; what makes their unbearable jobs worth it somehow is if "people loved the food." They both have wounds and bonds formed around food and love making people happy with the food, but they have selected a perspective of what "the best" is and is an ambition they run almost blindly to. You can think the burger place on your block has the best food in the world. There are cooks utterly content with that, but the Michelling stars are telling otherwise.
Of course, this is the most tangible way to measure success in arts, the singer with the most loved songs, the book with the most readers. Quality is supposed to be evident by popularity, and they want it, decorated with the prize of succeding in such a competitive industry. They have tried to win the culinary rat race and have regrets about it.
Carmy (motivated by the rejection and abandonment from his brother) worked his ass to unhealthy levels to climb the culinary ladder, living to best everybody around him and run the best restaurant on the planet (which, if we believe his monologue, only took two fucking years). Sydney is presented to us as somebody with equal creative powers, intelligence, and instincts as Carmy, which is particularly obvious in their brainstorming sessions. But she hasn't been offered the same opportunities. Her previous bosses described her as "incredibly talented, impatient, and green." and one friend told her as "always trying to be the best." There is much to say about how her impatience may sabotage her ambitions. Still, it may be because she fears getting stuck, labeled, or never recognized by her talents.
These two have 3 things they prioritize in their art paths:
Creative expression+people love the food
Exterior recognition based on the industry standards (stars and big kitchens)
A rat race (sense of urgency) and your ability to play on it.
What makes your food the "best" is comparing it to everyone else and "winning" in a particular category. 
Not to mention, they are both deeply aware of the logistics and money sides of the restaurant life. It is not like they don't value inspiration, but their ambition is the defining force behind said inspiration. 
MARCUS AND LUCA: "LET'S BE INSPIRED AND EVOLVE"
Luca was introduced to us as someone who was "trying to keep up with Carmy, who was much better than him," the same way the audience feels Marcus is someone trying to impress and keep up with Syd. Luca knows the culinary world, has traveled, and has a privileged position making high-end desserts (possibly in a place with stars). He is the Carmy to Marcus's Sydney. 
Btw, there are some crazy parallels here too:
Marcus and Sydney have a wound/fear related to their mothers.
Luca and Carmy have strained relationships with their siblings (Luca has a sister he cannot find).
Both Carmy and Sydney got into cooking because of early childhood passion
Marcus and Luca got into it by "chance," discovering a passion that they never expected to love this much or be good at.
Mentor x student relationship.
Back to Marcus and Lucas's perspective of art. Notice how Carmy was trapped in a sense of urgency environment, with many people working for him, in NYC, a chaotic city; while Luca seems to work entirely by himself, in a pretty chill environment, in a rather peaceful city. Luca and Marcus thrive on this environment, which is about thought and delicacy, unlike the "efficient, fast run kitchen" Carmy and Sydney established.
Marcus had no philosophy about his craft because he was barely starting. Still, he adopts Luca's philosophy, which has 3 parts:
You may never be the best. Some artists have to let go of the idea of being "the best." There is a lot to say about this. But I want to express this using an example of the craft that I aspire to get into: writing. A friend once told me that some books are not meant to reach millions because they have a very specific audience, and what makes them good is how "memorable they are." More of it, some artists are never recognized in their times. The industry may not be made for them, or it may be just luck. Limiting the value of art by the industry standard is depriving the world of art that needs to be more exploratory, spontaneous, or just free. 
Since industry validation may not be available to you, instead of "being the best" against others, you can decide, "My only competition is me from yesterday." This perspective is super important because it gives you something to aspire to, ensures your creative growth, and allows reinvention.
It is not about skill but being open to the world, yourself, and other people. It is not about fancy techniques or recognition but about being inspired. 
To Luca and now Marcus, the creative process is as good as is honest, and a chef is as good as the effort he puts into it. The "self-exploration" and the recognition of the people surrounding him allowed Marcus to create his desserts: The Copenhagen sundae, for his ultimate school (and Luca), "Mum's" honey bun, Sidney's donut (the first one in believing in him and when he recognized his dreams), and "The Michael" the one that put him to make bread, and the tribute that needs to be made.
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cloveroctobers · 10 months
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LUCA — summer prompts 🍋
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A/N: taking a shot writing for Mr. Luca! Love when the bear gives us crumbs and I’m able to create/build more off what was given. Let’s give it up for Mr. Eyebrow king being in lurve 💛 also I promise this is the last time I’ll be using a song from this album but the entire album fits for the bear in my humble opinion, I’m not going to hold you!
WARNINGS: still trying to get a feel for Luca’s character so I hope I wasn’t too far off for him! Feels! A supportive partner! Mentions of mental health & dark thoughts that lead to dark actions—but not overly described but definitely hinted!
Added summer prompts from here & I’m using these two: “hey, you said to keep hydrated! i’m pretty sure there’s some water in this cocktail.” + “i’m not happy you’re sunburnt, but i am enjoying getting to be the one helping you put aloe vera on.”
*GIF BELONGS TO: @goodsirs
❛ ༉‧₊˚ - ̥۪͙۪˚ ┊ ˚ ̥۪͙۪◌ ❛ ༉‧₊˚ - ̥۪͙۪˚ ┊ ˚ ̥۪͙۪◌ ❛ ༉‧₊˚ - ̥۪͙۪˚ ┊ ˚ ̥۪͙۪◌ ❛ ༉‧₊˚
Being back in Copenhagen was a whirlwind of emotions but Peyton picked the very best one.
To tell you the truth, Peyton’s been away for about three months, and decided to take the trip back but not alone.
She’s the one leading the way, natural sway in her hips even beneath her cream shacket as she’s all smiles to the familiar workers who seem to be moving at ease. It’s a Sunday, a little after twelve and the restaurant isn’t as busy yet. In her mind, it’s the perfect time to show up, unannounced, although Sydney and Marcus were definitely questioning it.
Carmy doesn’t say much, deciding to take in the architecture of the dark painted walls and the industrial decor instead. He still follows behind as Peyton pushes the back doors open, holding it in place as she waves the three to where the real show is located.
The kitchen is louder and lively compared to the main floor: which is quiet with small chatter, cedar wood infused air, and the gentle splashing from the large stone water fountain, that’s tucked in the back of the main dining floor.
There’s at least six chefs moving around in the kitchen, handling different tasks and talking to each other in calm tones that aren’t as similar back in Chicago. It’s a whole different atmosphere, Carmy thinks and he knows his thoughts are matched as his round eyes peek over at Sydney’s while Marcus sends all split-tooth grins.
It doesn’t take long for Peyton’s eyes to find Luca’s frame, who has his back turned to the four, large hands tending to the dough on the counter that he’s kneading.
“Is that the guy?” Sydney asks, only hearing a few stories from Carmy and occasionally Marcus.
Carmy nods, “yeah, yeah. That’s Luca.”
Peyton continues holding the door for the chefs who start to leave the area, greeting Peyton on their way before she lets the door gently flap behind them after they take their exit. The woman with the hair full of volume takes a stand in between Marcus and Sydney.
“Welcome and welcome back to Brimstone’s Gate.” Peyton introduced the trio who further took in the environment of the kitchen.
Marcus took a deep inhale, “it’s nice to be back…after everything you know?”
A solemn mood is felt after his words.
“I absolutely get that,” Peyton comments as she rests a hand on his shoulder, “just consider this your second home. A place of comfort and to relax your mind.”
Marcus gives a small smile, “thanks, Peyton.”
“Of course.” Peyton moves to face the three again, smile on her glossed lips as she clasps her hands together while she begins walking backwards, “so brimstone’s gate is one of the popular restaurants here in Copenhagen just like the lovely owner and manager of this place that you just met, Ragmus previously said. It’s mainly known for its intricate desserts and quaint and savory cuisine.”
“You’re really selling it, Peyton.” Sydney tells with two thumbs up.
Peyton winks as she points out at the twenty-something year old, “thanks girl, it’s what I do.”
Peyton’s a successful Editorial Food Photographer and it became the best decision she’s made for her career.
“Should we be calling you presenter chef instead?” Carmy teases, “we could have used some of those skills at the bear.”
Peyton laughs as she rolls her thumb over her fingers, “where the money resides, honey.”
“Ah, and here I thought we were friends.” Carmy’s got a crooked smile playing on his lips while Peyton playfully scoffs.
They both know if Peyton was in Chicago on better terms, Peyton would definitely shoot some photos if that’s what Carmy really needed for The Bear. She met Carmy years ago, attending the same restaurant alongside Luca, until she decided creating food wasn’t her passion like her well-known food critic mother wanted it to be. Instead she liked seeing the visuals and telling hundreds of those stories through film.
“That’s a likely story,” she responds as she purposely bumps into Luca who hadn’t noticed they were here, “oh my apologies! Didn’t see you there, Chef.”
Both Marcus and Sydney both squinted and furrowed their brows at each other while Carmy folded his arms, waiting to see how this would play out.
Luca exhales, assuming it to be one of the new clumsy younger chef’s that just started here two weeks ago. He pulls some of the wet dough that sticks to his finger tips and barely glances upwards, a routine of words spewing from his lips, “t’alright chef, let’s just remind ourselves the notices we give out to one another when we cross around, yeah?”
“Sure thing,” Peyton says, “Mind telling us what you’re preparing?”
His arched brows immediately furrow before he focuses in on who exactly is speaking to him. There’s surprise written right on his face, brows raising while Peyton is still full of soft smiles that she sends his way. He’s grabbing a rag then, struggling to break his eyes away to see the other three faces.
“Hey man,” Marcus starts which makes a slow grin appear on Luca’s own face.
“Good to see you again, Chef.”
Luca’s eyes trail over the small group, his eyes then settling on Carmy’s who still looks the same as he leans from one foot to the other but he’s full of more tattoos. Which almost makes Luca want to glance down at his own filled arms but he decides against it. He still liked his own artwork better.
“Carmen Berzatto.”
“Luca Hodgson.”
The three are watching the pair as if this is a pickle ball match. Sydney’s holding a breath as Luca makes his way over to Carmy, towering over him and face not revealing any emotion while Marcus is sending glances to Peyton who is behind analyzing Luca’s dish.
Luca says, “Are you still a know it all prick?”
Marcus was not expecting this since it was Carmy who reached out to Luca in the first place for his experience here months ago. He figured they were on good terms if Carmy wanted Marcus to learn from Luca. What changed?
“Well that uh depends, you still a show off, jackass?” Carmy met Luca’s eyes, not backing down in the slightest.
They hold each other’s stares before Luca breaks off into a laugh, followed by Carmy as they briefly embrace, hands clapping each other on the back in greeting.
“Oh, okay then.” Sydney mutters as she gazed over at Marcus who is also confused with a shrug of his shoulders.
Carmy then does the honors of introducing Sydney and Luca, who immediately shakes his hand, despite the sticky and warm residue from the dough.
“Pleasure to meet you, Chef Sydney. You probably can’t say the same now with dough on your hand, I suppose. I’ll grab you a wet nap.” Luca tells as he moves around to grab the said item.
He leans against the opposite counter where he was previously working, now fully wiping his own hands, glancing over at Peyton who’s all up in his dish as he voices, “I wasn’t aware any of you were coming. A heads up would have been cool.”
“So you’re not a fan of surprises, noted.” Marcus says while Luca dips his head about in a sorta motion.
Carmy scratched at his brow then, “We were under the impression that Peyton had it all sorted.”
Luca’s eyes are back on Peyton who’s listening but doesn’t provide anything to the conversation, it’s not like Luca could do anything about it now since they were all here.
“Don’t touch the remonce.”
“It’s not remonce yet,” Peyton looks over her shoulder at Luca who rolls his eyes.
Luca then says, “nice of you to let me know you were bringing guests.”
“They’re not guests, they’re practically family.” Peyton fans her hand about while Luca just lets out a sigh.
Carmy cuts in, “we’re not trying to disrupt the flow you have goin’ on here by any means.”
Luca snorts, “uh huh. It’s slow right now, so you lot are lucky I don’t mind.”
Sydney awkwardly claps her hands together, “great! We’re also really curious to what you’re working on…here at work.”
“Smooth, Syd. Real smooth.” Marcus teases while Sydney tightens her eyes sarcastically.
Luca looks back at his dish where Peyton is ready to show it off, posing in front of it like they were on jeopardy. The man cant help but to shake his head at her antics but announces, “I’m making frøsnapper.”
“It’s a traditional dish here,” Peyton mentions, “frø is a danish word for seed and frog.”
Sydney jokes, “Is it also going to leap off the tray after you take it out of the oven?”
Luca blinks but says with a straight face, “maybe if I throw in a few drops of green food coloring.”
It took a few seconds for Sydney to get the joke back, breathing out some slow laughter, while Marcus shook his head at her and Carmy watched as Luca briefly touched Peyton’s hips to make more space for him to talk about the pastry.
“Yes so, frøsnapper. Also known as for the English, seed snapper or frog snapper. It’s got remonce filling and once it’s done baking, it’s sweet and savory while the texture falls between flaky and delicate.”
“Like a croissant.” Marcus pointed out.
Luca shook his head, “Not quite, Marcus. This is Denmark.”
Marcus paused as he picked up on Luca’s mannerisms, “…fucker.”
Which makes Luca grin again.
“How long is Prep time?” Carmy asks as he makes the first move to get closer, peering at all the ingredients.
“About 12 hours or so.”
Carmy let’s out a low-whistle, “Shit.”
“Shit’s right mate and I started yesterday. It’s a excellent breakfast or pick me up for the afternoon, which is why I planned for it to be done today.” Luca explained.
Peyton speaks up, “and it will be…how long for the oven?”
“Fifteen minutes.” Luca automatically answers as he looks at the clock on the wall behind them all.
“See…Patience.”
“Every second.” Luca moves his winter deep ocean eyes to her ink colored ones, the two holding each other’s stare before he turns back to the rest.
“Any of you have allergic reactions to sesame or poppy seeds?” He asks, watching their facial expressions.
Carmy shrugs while both Marcus and Sydney shake their heads, ‘no.’
“Great, grab some aprons by the door there while I roll out the dough.”
“Oh, we’re doing work too on this vacation. Okay, yeah! I’m down.” Sydney rubs her hands together in excitement as she elbows Carmy lightly, who twists a smile onto his own lips.
Marcus is the first to move while Sydney follows. Carmy stays behind with Luca and Peyton as he picks up on the end of their hushed conversation:
“…I’ll be much better when we have dinner?”
“Cant. Not sure how long I’ll be here tonight, we have a few summer birthday gatherings here later. What about breakfast? It’ll be my day off.”
“Early meeting for me, I’ll be at the office.
“Lunch then?”
“…That works.”
“Finally.” Luca mutters as he takes his time but adds just enough pressure to roll out the dough, which makes Peyton let out a small laugh.
Sydney comes back, handing Carmen a apron who was mostly in a trance watching the dough get flattened that he didn’t bother to interrupt the conversation between old friends. He silently thanks Sydney before securing it around his waist.
Peyton leaves room for Marcus and Sydney to take her spot on the left of Luca, “and this is where I leave you three in good hands.”
“Wait…you’re not gonna get in on this?” Sydney is surprised while a smile is still planted on Peyton’s lips.
She motions to her outfit, “Looking this good? Not today, girl.”
Sydney eyes Peyton’s outfit which consisted of her brown voluminous hair pulled back into a claw clip, a cream opened corduroy shacket and a orange and white floral mini dress, “…fair point. I’m sure if you really wanted to, you could button that thing up and throw a apron on. Doesn’t seem like something you’d want to miss.”
“Your concern is touching, sis. But I actually can’t wait to get home and I’m sure Luca will save me one to try.” Peyton says as Luca is back in his zone now, trimming the edges of the dough and slides off the ingredients of the remonce to Marcus to mix together by hand.
Luca is listening as he replies, “yeah I will, see you at home.”
“See you at home.” Peyton repeats before winking at Sydney who is gapping, Marcus widens his eyes a bit, and Carmy is covering his snickers with a balled up fist.
Sydney turns back to the dish after Peyton leaves and mumbles, “so yeah, next time I’ll shut the fuck up.”
Which earns a laugh from both Luca and Carmy.
“You could have told us, Carmy!” Sydney whisper yells at Carmy who shrugs his shoulders.
Marcus chuckles, “Hey don’t feel bad, Luca didn’t tell me shit either the last time I was here and I’m kinda feeling a way about it now.”
Luca instructs Marcus to spread half of the remonce on one side of the dough then says, “I didn’t think we needed to share love stories just yet, Chef. The love was already there in the pastries.”
“Booo, how corny of you. Where’s the tomatoes?” Marcus snorts which Luca can’t help but to chuckle back.
Luca jokes after he nods his head in approval at the amount of remonce, “Looks like all of us were left out of something, huh?”
“If you don’t mind me asking…how long…?” Sydney starts as Luca takes over after Marcus folded the dough again, slicing it into twelve rectangles before he shows Sydney what to do next.
“What? How long have we been in love and decided to get engaged?”
“This fucking guy, how did you deal with him?” Marcus laughs, asking Carmy.
Carmy says, “we handled our beef outside.”
“What?!” Sydney squawks, “there’s no way you two fought.”
Luca explains, “it happened only once not far from the restaurant we worked at. And I don’t really classify that as much of a fight.”
“A punch to the eye wasn’t good enough for you?” Carmy’s eyes are in slits at this.
Marcus comments, “Damn.”
Luca defends, “A sucker punch isn’t fair. But I got you back, we scrambled a bit and then moved passed it the next day, bruises, cuts and all.”
Marcus concludes, “Sometimes that’s just how it works.”
“It smells like too much testosterone in here for me.” Sydney cuts in.
“Not sugar?” Luca lightly questions as he starts with the egg wash before handing another brush over to Sydney to help finish the rest.
Sydney scowls, “Yeah dude, I don’t know if I like you.”
“Join the club,” Luca winks over at Carmy who rolls his eyes with a small smile.
“Are you serious?” Luca wants to know just what his soon to be wife thought she was doing.
He met up with her, right on time, finding her sitting on the stone wall with what looked like a bright Orange cocktail in a plastic cup decorated with a little umbrella and fruit jammed along the straw.
They’re at the beach, it’s mid seventies, and there’s not many people on the walkway that rests along the sand. Mostly everyone else is taking advantage of the comfortable warmth on the sand. Luca and Peyton weren’t really beach people, preferring a lake and cabin any day but it was Peyton who suggested they meet out here since it was closer to her job.
It was far from their detached home but Luca didn’t mind the drive. He loved sight seeing when he made the time for it and usually when he had the time off, which was rare, he tried to get out there and see the world since there was so much to offer. He also couldn’t wait to be in Peyton’s face again; he wouldn’t count spooning her last night either, considering his face was covered with her bonnet.
Which he missed.
Conversations were meant to be had so that they could continue on with their journey together. She had to step away from their relationship for a few months and Luca was nothing more than understanding…although it stung a bit. He even offered to pick up and go to Chicago with her but Peyton told him life couldn’t be put on pause for her low moments, yet she was appreciative.
She dressed in jeans today as she hops off the wall, a smile in her brown eyes as she holds out her arms innocently, “hey, you said to keep hydrated! i’m pretty sure there’s some water in this cocktail.”
She’s mentioning the text message Luca sent to her a few hours ago, after she announced a headache was coming on after her meeting with her pushy manager. He was just checking in as he did a bit of laundry around the house but that didn’t stop his concern at all.
“Give me that,” Luca plucks the drink from her fingertips, fast as he sniffs at it before placing his own lips right on the straw, “hmm and here I was expecting vodka.”
“It’s not that kind of party, baby.” Peyton peers up at him as she locks her arms around his waist.
One hand comes up to palm her cheek, leaving Luca to take his time trailing his eyes all over her beautiful features, “So good to have you back.”
“Kiss me then.”
Luca snorts, “is this you asking for my consent?”
“Sure, uh huh.” She’s almost swooning in his eyes and Luca smirks as he leans closer to her lips.
“Eh, maybe later.”
“You asshole!” Peyton pushes at Luca’s back after he circled around her.
He’s laughing as he tosses a tatted arm over her shoulders, liking the feel of her being tucked right underneath his arm. She doesn’t miss how he’s holding onto her drink now, but she doesn’t mind it as long as she gets to keep him close.
They’re enjoying each other’s company again, almost as if the last three months didn’t happen but they both know it did.
“So…tell it to me straight. You’re back here with me now and I was left in the dark as soon as you were checked in.”
“I wanted to call rather than write you but I never had the words.” Peyton quietly says, “And I know you wouldn’t have minded if I just said a simple hello and we breathed on the phone for twenty minutes or whatever. I just didn’t want to make it worse for you.”
Luca hums, “Guess I can appreciate you taking my feelings into account but I can’t say I wouldn’t have rather talk to you than your mum, no disrespect.”
“Yes I know, she’s a lot.”
“Most families are.”
Peyton lays her head against Luca’s shoulder as they continue walking along the path, “Well you’re my family too and I’m sorry for handing over nothing but white noise to you while I was trying to get a better hold on this.”
It was extremely hard not knowing where exactly Peyton was and dealing with a mother like her’s.
“I don’t want you to apologize for doing what you thought was best for your mental health.”
“And I don’t want you to feel like I was shutting you out…you’re the last person I’d want to ever to do that to. I love you too much, to the point where I realized that I’d always want tomorrow’s with you.”
Luca felt his heart swell at that. It was always a good feeling to know that someone loves you just as much as you loved them. Luca was always known for his banter especially back when he worked at Noma years ago with both Carmy and Peyton but it seemed like Peyton’s energy meshed well with his.
He instantly thought Peyton was attractive and didn’t enjoy how she got on with Carmy equally at the start. Her approach to cooking wasn’t as serious as it was for him and Carmy but she was curious to learning. That’s something that was brought into their soon romantic relationship, they were open to go with the flow and it led them right to Luca putting a ring on it.
Peyton never had regrets about saying yes. She knew what she wanted with Luca and although the black parts of her brain gave her heavy blues, her heart still told her all that she needed to know.
Luca was patient, tender and he was still her man. They wanted forever and had to find balance even when it became shaky at times. They wanted to stick it out, be together and they lost touch once before when Peyton was the first to leave Denmark but somehow they always found their way back.
“I think that counts for a kiss, don’t you?” Luca whispers, stopping right in their path as he stares down at the dark umber skinned beauty.
Peyton almost pounces on her toes, “thank you! As if we haven’t deprived each other enough.”
“Gosh, so needy.” Luca teases, curling a finger underneath her chin to tilt her ready lips to meet his.
They both exhale as their lips touch after being away for quite some time. Her hand is resting against his clothed ribcage and their lips move together in sync as if there isn’t any limit to time. It’s when his tongue traces the outline of her full bottom lip that she pulls away, fanning herself.
“This man is trying to get me to buss it open in public on the beach, Chile. Relax yourself Hodgson, before we catch a charge.”
Luca’s nose crinkles at this as he chuckles, “fine…save it for the indoors, yeah?”
“Maybe even in the backyard?”
Luca raises his arched brows, actually considering it, “Nah, I don’t want to hear you yelling at me for messing up your edges in the grass. Mind you, that you’re probably allergic to.”
It wouldn’t be the first time he’s messed up Peyton’s edges.
However Peyton always appreciated the concern.
“What about the garden room on the side of the flat?” Luca soon suggested, leaving Peyton to also think about this before she eyed Luca up and down.
It must have still been empty since she left, that area of the home completely slipped her mind when she settled back in, even after leaving Brimstone’s gate yesterday afternoon.
“I think you forget how big you are sometimes.”
A smirk appeared on Luca’s lips then and before he could even open his mouth, Peyton was slapping her hand right over his lips.
“Don’t finish that sentence, there’s kids around.” Peyton warned.
Luca frowned as he muffled, “you started it!”
Peyton smiles at a father who is holding the bars of a tricycle of his toddler, leading them down the path, excusing them as they make their way by. Once they’re out of ear shot, Peyton lowers her hand from Luca’s lips until he pulls the sun glasses from her combed out pin-curled hair to place over his own eyes.
“You’re very handsy today.”
Luca’s arm drapes back over Peyton’s shoulder, pulling her into his side, then he presses a kiss to her temple, “I don’t see you complaining.”
“You’re right.” She pulls her cocktail back to take a sip, “why would I ever?”
“Exactly,” Luca speaks, “…going forward, whatever you need from me, don’t be afraid to let me know please, Mrs. Hodgson.”
Peyton places a kiss to Luca’s pink neck, “thank you baby.”
“Don’t start singing that pasta and lobster song please,” Luca groans after picking up on her tone.
Peyton sends him a look of innocence, “what do you mean? Are we not having that back at the house when the three bears come over?”
“What’d do you mean?”
“There’s no way we’re not inviting Carmy, Marcus, and Sydney over for dinner.”
Luca shrugs, “I didn’t know they were comin’ ‘round anyways.”
“Luca!”
“What? What if I wanted you all to myself first?”
“And you will, they’ll only be here for a week.”
“…A week too long.” Luca mutters making Peyton laugh as she shakes her head, shoving his shoulder.
“Stop it, Luca Lamar Hodgson.”
“No.” Luca chuckles as he points at the beaming woman, “Now you know that is not my middle name, at all.”
What do you have against Lamar’s Luca?
“I’ve talked to Lulu on my way here.”
Luca feels his eye twitch at the mention of his gossiping little sister, Luella. He of course loved her dearly but she could be a brat sometimes and when he misses her call, Peyton was next in line for her dramatics.
“The elevator doesn’t always go upstairs with that one. Especially with whatever she’s gone and said to you.”
“You are on a roll today,” Peyton laughed with her head thrown back, “and you’re not about to do my good sis like that either.”
“She’s my sister first and I know she didn’t say my middle name was that.”
“You don’t know our conversations.”
“Thank heavens for that.”
Peyton paused as she untangled herself from Luca who lifted up her shades to peer at her in question. She held her arms out as she says, “there’s space and opportunity if you wanna fight.”
Luca scans Peyton up and down, taking his time as he did and scoffs, “You don’t scare me, babe. I’ll have you over my shoulder like flour in seconds.”
Peyton cracks her neck and motions her hand, “come on then. Remind me, which one of us was the athlete here?”
Yeah Peyton was deeply invested in tennis once upon a time and originally that’s what Luca thought she wanted to make a profession. She still participated down at the court during the weekends and man was she fast along with those long arms that provided powerful swings. Luca couldn’t see her on the court when it came to tennis, he almost pulled a damn hamstring but he wouldn’t tell any of his mates that.
As for football and cycling…that was a different story.
“That was then and what year are we in now?” He tapped his apple-watch.
Peyton cupped her ear, “Do I hear shade?”
Luca looks around at the sky, “doesn’t appear to be partly cloudy at all. It’s actually very sunny.”
Peyton let out a whole karate sound and tried to strike one, which was humorous but Luca was swift as he easily gripped her thighs and lugged her right up onto his shoulder, holding her in place.
“I told you.” Luca said after awhile, causally walking down the path while Peyton attempted to wiggle around, “let me know when you’re done. I’m just enjoying the view.”
Peyton huffed, “now what if you made me drop my cocktail?”
“I’ve got actual water back in the car, love.”
Peyton mocked Luca who laughed and patted her backside, carrying on in Copenhagen’s sun.
Up in their bedroom, Peyton is lounging on the bed, phone raised up in the air browsing food TikTok’s until she hears Luca letting out a string of curses that sound heavy in his accent from their en suite bathroom.
“Luca, you good?” Peyton calls out to the man, breaking her eyes away from her screen.
“Y-Yup!”
That didn’t sound convincing at all.
So Peyton’s on her feet now, phone tossed to the side of her as she enters the bathroom. She gets a nice view of reddened skin that’s leading from Luca’s neck and down the upper part of his back.
“Ouch.” Peyton remarks, “I did not notice this earlier. I would have sprayed your ass down with my own sunscreen.”
Luca pinched at his skin and flinches a bit, “summer’s aren’t nearly as hot here. I don’t understand why I look like bloody salmon.”
Peyton covers her giggle, knowing why as she stands beside him, after eyeing the change in his skin tone. “I got you, don’t worry.”
There was no doubt in his mind.
Mintues later, Peyton’s retrieved the goo that she had mashed in the container, stored in the back of the fridge, knowing Luca wouldn’t have went searching through there since he tended to eat out at restaurants or order out majority of the time. He had a sweet tooth so she had to be the one to remind him to actually eat full meals instead of desserts from time to time. Which means they’ll have to go grocery shopping at some point, something Luca truly loathes. unbeknownst to him, his mother all the way out in London had grocery deliveries sent to his home, realizing that he didn’t keep his fridge stocked much after Peyton went back to the states.
Peyton first went off to California to visit her father and grandmother in search of different scenery, taking a break from the growing stress but that stress turned into something else. Luca looked back and saw the signs as they laid on the floor together in the dark, with her talking about the end but figured it was just conversation back then. It wasn’t until she went to Chicago to spend time with her controlling mother that she actually tried and it wasn’t just thoughts. Unperceived to Luca and that’s when Luca’s own mother came to be with her son during this difficult time, then he finally got the call that Peyton was being admitted, just to later learn Peyton’s mother called Luca’s first.
He couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t a little irked that people were going behind his back when it came to Peyton. He should have been there…but he knew he couldn’t blame himself. He thought he was just sending his wife to be off for a simple get away…overall he was happy that she was still here fighting day by day.
He knows it’ll be tough but not everyday will be full of clouds.
“i’m not happy you’re sunburnt, but i am enjoying getting to be the one helping you put aloe vera on.” Peyton says as she’s on Luca’s back, knee’s on either side of him, lathering his back in the cold gel.
Her eyes observe the doodles of ink that decorated his arms and smiles at the sunflower on his shoulder, which he dedicated to her.
Luca exhales at the temperature as he continues resting his cheek against his arm, ready to doze off, “Why’s that?”
“I enjoy taking care of you too, duh.”
“I think you like to touch my body, Mariah Carey.”
“That tooooo-ooh,” she tries to belt out a whistle tone that sounds like a rooster being strangled—“but I also love you.”
“I love you lots too, even when you’re trying to make my eardrums bleed…but don’t ever forget that, yeah?” Luca says over his shoulder as he tries to ignore the sting in his skin but knowing that the comfort is coming from Peyton’s hands, he’ll survive.
Peyton leans forward again to place a kiss to the back of Luca’s head, “I won’t.”
Once enough of Luca’s back in covered in aloe, Peyton leaves to wash her hands and place the gel back into the fridge downstairs. When she comes back into the bedroom, Luca is still in the same position she left him in. Usually her side of the bed is closest to the door, which is something they deeply debated over, she climbs over him to tuck herself underneath his folded arm.
His lips press into her clothed shoulder, his t-shirt, before resting his nose against it later, breathing in her homey scent with his eyes closed. One hand goes to run through his sun lightened hair, further soothing him to sleep as she’s back on her phone now, letting him rest.
No more cold sides of the bed because Peyton was home with her warmth and Luca couldn’t wait for tomorrow.
And the next day after that.
And so on and so forth.
❛ ༉‧₊˚ - ̥۪͙۪˚ ┊ ˚ ̥۪͙۪◌ ❛ ༉‧₊˚ - ̥۪͙۪˚ ┊ ˚ ̥۪͙۪◌ ❛ ༉‧₊˚ - ̥۪͙۪˚ ┊ ˚ ̥۪͙۪◌ ❛ ༉‧₊˚
Go back and read my current flop summer prompt here.
Continue along with my anthology summer prompts here.
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memorableeventz · 9 months
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hourglassfish · 9 months
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On Season 1, Episode 7 Part Three : Risottogate
OK look,
Go and get yourself an ecto cooler or something, cus this is long, OK? This is long.
You comfortable?
Alright, let’s go.
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don't forget the Xanax!
Elevated Beef (stock)
There’s a connection drawn between Sydney and veal stock in the Bear. She spills it all over herself during Brigade. Claire interrupts Carmy purchasing veal stock for menu testing her bone broth idea at the end of 2:2.  It’s an interesting ingredient to align her with: a staple of French cuisine, something you’ll find in a professional high end kitchen but not necessarily at home, a distinctive, practical component which provides a subtle, solid umami base for a range of dishes.
The first time this connection is drawn is during one of my favourite interactions: the ‘plum haribo’ story in Brigade. Marcus has decorated his work station (I love him), and despite the fact that Carmy says he’s having flashbacks (eeeeeeek), I think he is happy to see this coming together of his two worlds.
They start talking about this fancy plum dish, and a gelee component (which will reappear in Honeydew!) that had to have a very specific texture. Carmy has been talking about the dedication needed to make this dish work with pride, presenting the texture of the gelee as a huge challenge, something it took someone a year to figure out. Sydney cracks it in less than a minute. Veal fat. She knows what’s needed, and she knows why: it congeals when it’s cold. Boom!
Carmy’s response to this always amuses me. He is not…dismayed exactly. Not quite. After all, it’s a reminder of her brilliance, and also that that world is not so far away.  That being said, she cuts across a punchline here; and what was a mystery to the best chefs in the world for a year is immediately obvious to her, to the extent that it’s not even really a flex on her part: she states it quite diffidently. Marcus’s gleeful ‘Mission Accomplished’ is very different from Carmy’s, which is a bit more ‘…oh.’.
On rewatches where I feel charitable, Carmy then implements the brigade cus he's been reminded that he has someone close by from that world, he has an ally that speaks his language, who is talented. On days when I feel less charitable, I combine this with him later talking her through the differences between stock/jus/demi-glace in front of Tina  like an asshole, and see him handing the brigade over at that specific moment, in the specific way that he does as passive aggressive. Most days I’m with the former! Still…we’re back in the grey areas of Syd and Carmy’s  dynamic. Where all the good shit is!
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He's so glad she figured that out so quickly, absolutely not feeling a type of way about it, nope, not at all
I wanted to start with this story cus it opens up three things for me:
a) just a frisson, a hint, a delicious drop (!) of competition between Syd and Carmy 
b) the question, beloved by fanfic writers everywhere, of what the dynamic between these two might have been if they had met in a different context.
c) a third, messier thing, about Carmy going away, tooling up, coming back and it needing to be worth something, that going way. As far as he knows at this point, It didn’t achieve what it was meant to achieve, it didn’t get Mikey’s attention. Maybe he didn’t need to leave Chicago to do it. Sydney's talent tickles that tension, as does Marcus's (trios, trios!). So what was it for? What were the past few years of his life for, if a bunch of this stuff was in Chicago all along?
Who was Carmy away from Chicago? Who is he without his family? We’ve only seen one flashback so far, very much from inside Carmy’s head. The way he tells it is very different from what we see. At Al Anon, he describes himself like this:
‘when somebody new came into the restaurant to stage, I’d look at them like they were competition, like I’m gonna smoke this motherfucker’.
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But you're tall and sexy, so don't worry about it babes
Gosh. Yes Chef!
I don’t think Carmy holds anything like this level of aggression towards any of the original staff of the Beef: it would be absurd: they don’t have his training or experience. For the most part we see doing the work of pulling a team together, which explicitly involves putting that kind of competitiveness to the side.
I don’t think he has this energy for Sydney.
Not quite.
I do think it’s an important thing for us to learn about his character. I do think that we are told it at the beginning of Episode 8, after Sydney has quit, because there are ugly feelings around the risotto dish. I do think that those feelings drive a lot of how Review goes down, and that Carmy knows this.  
This ferocious comparison and competition, used as a driving force, is a part of who Carmy is, and a part of the kitchens that he has come from. In another context, Sydney would have just been competition. And he’d have been trying to smoke her.
Let’s follow a humble bowl of risotto through THREE EPISODES, and about 5000 words, good GOD.
Tracing the Journey of the Risotto: Unanticipated
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I tried to find appetising pics of her cooking the risotto but mostly it doesn't look very aesthetic, so here is Syd in my fave of her scarves.
A Risotto, playing on ‘tongue in cheek’ is first tentatively pitched in Sheridan, as an idea for a new menu that they have ‘spoken about’. Carmy is… noncommittal. He’s not into it, but he doesn’t say that, he just doesn’t really engage. I think there are a bunch of valid reasons to not be into it, tbh. I’ve ordered risotto to go. It’s always kind of gluey and disappointing. Sydney isn’t given a clear no, so she decides to cook it: it becomes something she has to convince him on.
He doesn’t get to try it in this episode as there are drugs to sell and about a million different fires to fight. We know that she dreams about this dish though. In this episode she talks about how thinking about her mistakes with Sheridan Road keep her up at night,  but the last images of the episode are of her dreaming: beef… raspberries… cola… fire: there it is. Cola braised short rib. We’re back in the realm of deeply personal creative expression that I spoke about in part two. That anxious energy around failing with Sheridan Road? Is going somewhere else, is being transformed. This is important, and has the potential to be profoundly healing. This dish has meaning for her.
The dish returns in Ceres. Syd is an unstoppable force with the dish, and having said she wants to be listened to, is not listening to several requests from Carmy for more time. Stressful! He deals with it well, at first. He is calm, and polite and asks her to hold on. Which is not a no. But then -
 ‘I know everybody you used to work for, I called them before hiring you’
oooooh weeee.
There is nothing wrong with him seeking out references. His reasons are logical, and he’s transparent about them. Personally? I think it’s sensible to let employees know you’re seeking out references to avoid paranoia, but it’s not a legal requirement. People do it informally via whisper networks all the time, both purposefully and by accident. Gotta say though, the phrasing and the timing of this ‘reveal’ made me wince.
There are a million different theories of feedback, of how to give and receive it well. One argues that feedback must be asked for, accurate and measurable. If it’s not measurable, then you are nitpicking. If it’s not accurate, you’re hating. If it’s not asked for, or at least delivered in an environment where it’s anticipated, it is unlikely to be received well. Carmy, unfortunately, delivers a whopper of unanticipated feedback here: ‘me and all your old bosses (I know EVERYONE YOU USED TO WORK WITH)have been talking about you and they all agree on this flaw’.
YIKES
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Would I let Syd stab me for a bowl of this? Maaaaybe. Maybe.
My reading is that he wanted to ask for her patience, and to say that his decision to pace out the changes is coming from experience, but he’s being backed into a corner, so he summons up the spectre of her old bosses for back up. Syd had opened up last episode, and is still very vulnerable about Sheridan, so he unintentionally wounds her here. We can read this in her response. He says her employers said she was smart, talented,  green and impatient, she hears ‘me and everyone you’ve worked for think your business failed because you were green and impatient, that’s why you’re here, and why this dish can’t go on the menu’. This dish is getting entangled in so many other things about where they’ve come from.
He does take the time to reframe it: outlines his practical concerns, and starts to articulate that he wants to maintain calm before they make more changes - 
And then Sugar is banging on the door, demonstrating his point.
At this point, Carmy is trying to build a parachute. They don’t have one when Jimmy comes to visit in Hands, but they do have one that becomes Richie’s bail by Braciole. Reserve building takes steady, dull consistency, but this isn’t communicated, and they don’t agree on a timeframe for the menu development, or even to come back to this conversation. This is small stuff, I know I sound nitpicky! But in my experience managing people, tension builds in the unknowns, in the places where there aren’t specifics, especially when you have a team member like Sydney who is ambitious and dynamic.
Sydney is firmly in the realm of the job that Carmy specified here. He is dialling business, she is doing everything else. If you’re a nerd and you zoom in on her CV, she has done menu development before. She is green, but not that green. She is impatient, but she also doesn’t have the same complicated relationship with change at the Beef that pretty much everyone else but Marcus does. The risotto is the first unofficial test of the impact of strain on their (messy ass) working dynamic, to Review’s much more official gauntlet.
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Why would they write a proper CV and film it if they didn't want me to spend 5 minutes hitting pause repeatedly until I'd read it?
*squints* designed daily specials with complete creative control! At Alinea! A THREE STAR MICHELIN RESTAURANT! At the time they wrote this, it had held and retained those stars for twelve years! She is not new to this!
Tracing the Journey of the Risotto Two: Unmeasurable
They try again with the risotto later. She is a little more patient, initially. She makes the effort and he thanks her for it. He tries it, which she really wanted (surely that will convince him!), and she has modified her request, from to-gos, to trying it as a special. Her equivalent of baby steps. She listened. She’s trying. Lovely Angel and my main man Ebra come by, taste and support Carmy’s ‘tremendous’.
But here Carmy gives feedback that isn’t measurable. It’s not perfect, but he doesn’t say why, even though he knows, and it’s an easy fix! He’s nitpicking, because he doesn’t, for a bunch of practical reasons, want to put risotto on the menu, but doesn’t want to shoot her down. He asks her if she understands after she has explicitly said that she doesn’t (cus he’s not being up front), and then doesn‘t explain himself. He’s not really asking if she understands, he’s telling her to stop. It’s not really the dish that’s not ready, not really, it’s him, he’s not ready to make a new raft of changes, to think through the gap between the Michelin star excellence he has come from, and the budgetary, practical restrains of where he’s at.
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I think this is really fair. Or at least understandable. Carmy just wants to catch a breath, and he has to have oversight on so many different things at once, adding something else to that must feel terrifying. But the way he communicates this shuts down and restricts: he switches the dynamic from one where they listen to each other (which requires that they both explain themselves) to one where he tells and she does. It doesn’t really give her anywhere to go, so her frustration is inevitable and also understandable. Measurable feedback! Clarity. If you don’t want risotto on the menu Carmy, rip the band-aid, and say it, and say why. Get her to work on something that is going to fit with the menu in a different way, in the way that you want, and be clear about the way in which you want to shape it!
He knows he’s not been great here. Carmy apologises for ‘being shitty’ later in the episode (as others have noted, it’s a shit apology) and he also starts his apology with ‘needs acid’ in 1:8. He knows that a lot of Review is to do with this dish.
When Carmy apologises about being shitty later in Ceres, she doesn’t mention that she put the dish out earlier. It’s framed as a little moment of.. if not revenge, then a little something for herself. I think she knows it’s not OK, not really, or she’d have mentioned it, and her face says a lot when she says it’s cool.  I’m not a chef, I only ever worked FOH, but my instinct is that its dodgy and it fills me with unease. A grey area. A pop of tension.
Tracing the Journey of the Risotto Three: Hating
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Whenever I think about the strikes, I think about the broader ensemble in this show.
The next time the risotto turns up, it’s being mentioned in a review. A lot happens here, so I’m gonna bullet point out all the references, then analyse some of them afterwards. I’m also gonna jump a whole bunch, cus I want to stay tightly focused on the risotto itself, and the dynamic between Syd and Carmy as relates to it:
Ebra reads the review out!
Syd has a lovely, gentle smile for Ebra as he reads it, her whole body relaxes as she taps at the tablet. This validation clearly means a lot to her. Ebra’s dynamic with both Sydney and Marcus is consistently a joy to behold. When he tells her in Dogs that she’s given Marcus a lot of confidence, she glows, and I think it’s something she really needed to hear. He’s subtle about it, but he never makes her life difficult when she implements the brigade. There’s something about the oldest member of the team, reading the review out, a little haltingly cus English isn’t his first language, that doubles down on the love that can be present in the Beef, making it all the more jarring when –
Carmy cuts across this and starts talking about the day’s opening with a ‘stop reading that shit’
Fam ‘that shit’ just described your food as elevated and elegant! In the foodie heaven that is Chicago! In your restaurant which is kind of failing! It’s your team’s first review since you’ve been there! So straight away you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop, because what has got his knickers in a twist?
Carmy is justified in being pissed off about Syd’s actions here. What he is not justified in, is not finding a way to celebrate the review itself with his team, who deserve to have this moment. It’s a milestone for them to get some external validation, and the restaurant, quite frankly, needs it. A five star review! Tina squeals with delight when she hears it. Before a new program and a busy shift is the perfect moment to read this out, and go into the work feeling good. A united, gassed up team? Would have killed those to gos.
Sydney is also responsible for this messiness though. In going rogue the episode before, something which could have been about the team becomes about her in a way that is sticky, and it becomes harder to celebrate. It was not her intention, but this is the outcome.
Ebra ignores Carmy
(cus he’s redundant and white JK JK don’t cancel me)
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There is a double edged shout out to the team
‘the staff moves are next level’: this is such brilliant, important feedback from a team that has had to weather so much change! Also calls back to Richie:  ‘Uh oh, Sydney making moves!’ in the car in Hands.
‘The sandwiches are so delicious as ever, but the standout dish that... that, that encapsulates all, this was the risotto with braised beef. The rice was luscious with a surprising ribbon of brine running through the sauce. The chef obviously knew what she was doing’
THAT REVIEWER IS A SNITCH
Did Syd know that reviewer was a reviewer? I dunno man. Maybe! She’s Chicago born and bred, knows the food scene well. It’s not outside of the realm of possibility that she’d recognise him. Maybe she just wanted some good immediate feedback, while she was feeling shitty! Maybe all she wanted was him to send a message back to the kitchen that’s like tell Syd the risotto was great: the impact of his Review but on a much smaller, less disruptive scale.
I think it’s genuine coincidence, which unfortunately looks… not like that. The thing is: the reviewer being a reviewer isn’t what the issue is. The issue is giving food not signed off by her boss to a customer.  She'd have never gotten away with that at the places where she was before. Putting the dish out is going rogue, regardless of who she gives it to. It’s not a team move. If Carmy called in her old bosses for back up, she calls in his potential new customers. Eek. EEK.
Sydney desperately tries to get Ebra to shush, to no avail
(extremely funny work from Ayo, but also he’s pissed, and she either already knows it, or already antipates it – it’s hard to get a read on how long they’ve been in and when they learnt about the review)
‘river of brine, huh?’ 
Carmy, you little snark!!! This is very much his wheelhouse of expressing displeasure, he loves a little jab to the emotional solar plexus. My reading of his line is that what the reviewer tried and what Carmy tried are different, because if it had a ribbon of brine in it, I think that means that there was enough acid. Syd has two dishes, and she’s specific about Carmy trying one and not the other, so my reading here is that Carmy’s POV is not only did a dish go out of my kitchen without my sign off, but it was different from the dish I was given to try. Wince. Wince, wince, wince.
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Sydney and Carmy have a fucking excruciating conversation.
Just the worst.
Carmy is not happy, but feels unable to voice this in a way that seems reasonable: he’s busy and stressed about to-gos, he hasn’t moved past the unreasonable feelings of resentment and annoyance to the clarity which enables you to articulate how you feel and why, and because Syd’s gamble paid off! It’s a net positive for the restaurant so it feels counterintuitive to reprimand her, but there is a conversation they need to have. He really does not want to have this conflict, because it’s complicated, and is, like most big blow outs over something small, about so much more than a plate of risotto.  He breezes over the conversation, but you can’t start with that ribbon of brine opener and then tell me shit’s not weird.
Compare this to Brigade, when Sydney is asked what’s up, and she is brave enough and vulnerable enough to be like – here are the things that weren’t OK, here are my expectations, here are my boundaries.
On the other side of the conversation, Sydney knows that she has slipped across a slightly odd boundary, but doesn’t acknowledge this. It’s good he liked it! All’s well that ends well. Right? RIGHT? But if he hadn’t? Very different conversation. It doesn’t matter who he is! He could have been anyone - someone that left a weird Instagram comment later, or someone who didn’t finish the meal and complained. Whatever the case may be, giving it to him unofficially was not an act of partnership, or listening, even if the initial communication was shitty.
She knows she’s overstepped,  but she doesn’t apologise and doesn’t acknowledge the specifics of what she’s done wrong, because she does not want to have the conflict that could come out of this either. She seeks affirmations that they are OK rather than trying to actually find out how Carmy feels and why, because at this point she doesn’t really want to hear it. She is seeking this conversation out 20 minutes before open! It’s not the time for a thorny, complex discussion.  
Compare this to Brigade. Carmy knows Sydney is pissed, and makes the effort to speak to her, in private, armed with the peace offering of Ebra’s Suqaar. He is very careful in that conversation to ask open questions (‘what’s going on with you? Say more?’) that enable her to respond honestly. He persists despite her having her walls up around the fact that she’s pissed. Sydney does not do this. The power dynamic makes it hard, but still. If she wants the connection needed to power reconciliation, that bravery needs to be in play.
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are you sure we can't just power through this with sexual tension?
Sweeps congratulates her and tells her she’ll have to tell her dad
Hope Mr Adamu got a newspaper clipping!
Carmy says the sandwiches are totally different and the reviewer is a fucking hack. Syd looks sad.
This moment is why I opened this essay talking about veal stock. We are back in a moment with a gap between what has been said, and what has been heard. The reviewer said the sandwiches were delicious as ever. That’s not a criticism at all! These are not words that justify being called a hack! Carmy is pissed because the reviewer says they are delicious and they always have been, that Carmy has not improved on the staple that was there before him.
And that shit hurts his ego!
His whole thing was going off to learn ‘how to be better than mom and dad’s piece of shit’. We know he’s changed a bunch of things about the sandwiches. In Hands,  Sydney mentions that they’ve switched to market produce, which I’m sure is not unrelated to Richie’s ‘You’ve been here for two weeks and we’ve had money problems for two weeks’ in System. In Carmy’s time there, the bread’s changed, the method for cooking the beef has changed, the way they braise onions has changed.
To that customer? Delicious as ever.It’s not a dismissal, or an insult.  It is a reminder that Carmy didn’t have to leave, and go through all he went through, that there was delicious food and skills to be learned and refined without it. We know Michael was a talented chef. Even now, with all of where he’s been, Carmy cannot surpass him or his memory.
The person that does surpass that? Is Sydney. With food his palate did not deem good enough! Sydney who has not had to leave Chicago and her family. Sydney who has found a way to be creatively free, even at The Beef, in ways that Carmy has not really been able to, because his primary concern has to be money. There is understandable resentment here. But there is competition to the way Carmy cooks, something to prove, someone to smoke. There are reasonable feelings here, but some of them are really ugly, too.
Tina describes Syd as Jeff’s friend
This is a strange little line – because we know that Tina respects Syd as a chef at this point, and she doubles down on it later when she asks Syd to teach Louis skills, like she herself has been taught. So why’s it there? My feeling is that it’s there to remind the audience of what Syd and Carmy’s relationship is usually like. I wouldn’t call it friendship, I think they operate in a weird place that defies labels, but they have this synergy which drives the business. Tina evoking that in this moment draws attention to the fact that they are not in that space right now.
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He's just got a very sweet face, it's hard for me to believe he's in trouble at school
Richie has a loud, performative conversation with Carmy about many things, but for the purpose of this section, he states that they don’t do risotto, asks if they’re going to, and Carmy definitively states that ‘no, they’re not going to do that’ he also repeats Syd’s phrasing that it was ‘an accident’
She stabbed the wrong ass if you ask me!
Nah, but for real, this is nasty work. I’m gonna come back to it in the next (penultimate!) bit of writing about the Beef, the Bear, Richie & Michael, Syd & Carmy. For now, I will simply say that Carmy is doing up major pass agg here, and it’s nasty to watch. He’s really, really unhappy with her,  and he’s struggling to hold it in, so it’s coming out in unhelpful and unpleasant ways that feel like humiliations in front of the whole team, and punishment.
There are really valid reasons for Carmy to be annoyed and to not want to talk about it right now.  The problem is that If you don’t create a pressure valve you take responsibility for, you will end up a) exploding instead (lol) and/or b) releasing that frustration in unhelpful and harmful ways.
They move towards this with their ASL sorry in Season Two. But here, Carmy says and implies a bunch of things to Richie that he needed to say explicitly to Syd two episodes ago, and two minutes ago: that he has no intention of putting risotto on the menu, and that he thinks her saying it was an accident was bullshit. He wants Syd to know it’s not OK without the hard, painful work of having to engage in conflict with her. It’s shitty.
Sweet Louis asks what a ribbon of brine is
He seems like a good boy, bring him back!
A BUNCH OF STUFF THAT I WILL WRITE ABOUT NEXT TIME HAPPENS
Richie, Syd and Carmy, it’s delicious (a nightmare).
Syd attempts a second conversation with Carmy – having vented some frustration  at Richie, and seeing how her workload is piling up and becoming untenable, she is much more open here. Carmy is not.
She’s blunt – we’re not on the same page. Carmy lies and deflects – we’re good, let’s get through the shift. He has his hands on his hips, with as much of his body turned away from her as possible, during this conversation, and walks off half way through it. Even if everything had gone right, this shift would have been a nightmare for Syd.
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Everything is awesome!
The penultimate mention of the risotto is here. There is very little I can say that has not been brilliantly said by eatandsleepwell here - https://www.tumblr.com/hourglassfish/726487509540962304/eatandsleepwell-melonatures-this-one-second?source=share so I’m gonna link it.
That’s the last we hear of risotto for now, other than a quick reference to Syd as an arrogant and condescending ribbon of brine from Richie later. It doesn’t turn up on the tasting menu at the Bear, where it defo feels like a riff on risotto could have replaced one of their pasta dishes. That switch from rice to pasta feels pointed.
Spaghetti
Let’s treat The Beef as a character. If Sydney’s ingredient motif is veal stock, then The Beef’s is that family spaghetti.
Cheap and simple. Fucking delicious. Makes no sense and shouldn’t work, but was somehow the best seller on the menu. Distinctively Italian. Stuffed full of drug money(!). Always, always presented at the table with love, like a gift. You can elevate it if you want, but the fact of the matter is that even at its very best, it’s only gonna hit so hard cus it reminds you of simpler times, like the ratatouille (that is not a ratatouille!) from the movie Ratatouille.
Carmy rejects that meal at the top of the series. It ‘doesn’t make sense on the menu’, so he doesn’t care that people loved it. So far, so EMP. When he starts to cook it in episode one, it feels like a relenting to Richie’s bullying, and him throwing WHAT WE NOW KNOW WAS PROBABLY A FEW THOUSAND DOLLARS in the bin at the end of the episode feels like this exhilarating rejection of mediocrity. They change the lines for System, but in the pilot, Carmy literally cannot make the spaghetti, that last lesson from Michael is a real missing puzzle piece.
In Braciole,  when he gets the recipe, he goes to cook it, for family. It’s really nice, that scene, feels comparable to Sydney making omelette. It’s quiet, and Carmy seems content, if wistful. The pork instead of beef panic of earlier is put to the side for now. The previous day, Carmy has gone to Al-Anon and confessed, unburdened himself. Then followed two quiet days and a blue hued night of atonement: he reaffirmed his commitment to Richie, paying his bail and keeping watch all night, gave Tina the night off, apologised to Marcus and acknowledged that his behaviour towards Sydney wasn’t acceptable, as well as speaking to her about her dish, like an adult. Carmy has to do all of this before he finds the money, before he gets the validation that he’s really longing for from his brother.
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JAW getting his Emmy, his Golden Globe, his SAG Award, his Bafta, his future Oscar Winning role.
If The Bear at its core is about grief, and the void that Michael’s death leaves, then one of the big journeys of Season One is the subsequent death of the Beef, ready for its rebirth as The Bear in the following season. Review is the short sharp stab to the gut, of Sydney leaving, and taking any hope that it can be reformed as is, with her work. I don’t think the nature of a puncture wound, and the shortness of that episode are unrelated.
Braciole is more of a death rattle: Jimmy’s debt keeping them trapped in shitty work they don’t want to do, situations that spiral out of control and descend into violence, their parachute turned to bail money. But Michael wanted more for his brother than that, and he has left him a foundation. He does not have to burn the place down, there need not be smoke and hellfire. There’s another avenue for rebirth, one where ‘set this place on fire’ does not have to mean an insurance scam, but instead can mean an ignition of all their ambition and dreams.
To get there there has to be an ego death first, a moment of hubris that gets our protagonists fresh, and clean, so they can move to the new. Sydney sees and experiences the worst of herself (more on this in the final part!). Richie gets stabbed (more on this in the next part).
Carmy? Carmy has to encountera crisis where not only could his training not save him but many of the lessons he learnt while he was away and his reasons for going in the first place actively made the situation worse, and those that had faith in him and his preferred system turned away from him, deeply hurt. His ego gets in the way of connection, and it shatters the partnership that he needs to make it all work. He is clinging to old ways of being that has not served him, but he needs to move forward into what is new. And he does.
Well.
He tries.
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SMDH
WHEW
Another long one, sorry fam. I’m almost there though. Am I sorry? No, I’m grateful if you read it, and I hope you enjoyed it.
I hope I’m pulling this together coherently, that I’m showing a sort of throughline to the way I view Episode 7. I don’t think Sydney is perfect! I do think her walking out is narratively and politically (the show wants better for the workplaces its drawn from) necessary, and I hate, hate, hate the simplification of that decision to ‘he shouted at her so she bailed’. Please, you can’t think this show is well written and think her decision is as simple as that, it doesn’t make sense. That exit is crafted so that it is inevitable, there is a movie’s worth of build up to it.
We’re looking at Richie, Syd and Carmy next time, fam. I am trying so hard to cut it down cus it’s currently sat at 15,000 words, but I’m gonna try really hard to edit down, OK? I’m gonna try really hard.
I can’t respond but I value reblogs and comments so much!
This is part of a five part series! You can find the rest here:
Expect More: Syd and Carmy's relationship,
I know you'll be listening: Marcus, McDonald's and Freedom
Risottogate
Hiring New Fucking Broads: Syd, Richie and conflict;
"That's Not You" The Moment Syd Walks Out
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softly-sirius · 5 months
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A little slice of heaven
sydney x fem! reader x carmen (they're all dating)
plot: syd and carm come home after a long day of work and find comfort in you. pure fluff!!
Warnings: Carmen is taller than the reader, reader wears a cropped top and panties. reader makes mac and cheese, but does not eat the mac and cheese herself! so ppl with dairy allergies don't feel left out
-
When Carmen gets home, all he can think about is sleeping.
Sydney is stood, at his side, hooking her puffer jacket onto the decorative coat stand that came with the apartment. It hadn’t been at the apartment on the initial viewing, but when they had moved in, there it was. Its brushed metallic paint shined gold in the sunlight. It wasn’t intended to be kept, but eventually, it felt like the apartment wouldn’t have been the same without it. 
Carmen felt like he had a lot in common with the coat rack. 
Sydney toed off her shoes in silence, pushing them neatly against the wall. He knew she was doing it for his sake. She did a lot of things she didn’t before, simply for his sake. 
They were both exhausted, too tired to talk. It was an established fact that talking with each other when they felt like this, still pent up from the day, could leave them more angry than not. So they stayed in comfortable silence. Sydney reflecting upon a fleeting day, Carmen brooding over what needs to be done on the next. 
Carmen goes to the kitchen, feeling like he would rather go anywhere but. He wants to shower, so he can scrub away the remains of the day. He wants to face plant into bed and sleep without setting an alarm. 
He knows he can’t though, while he would happily let himself go hungry, he wouldn’t let Syd. So he goes in with intentions to make a quick sandwich. A way to say thank you for not pushing him to talk even though he knows she so desperately wants to. He’s trying his best, but some days he still can’t handle it. 
Then he hears the sizzling of hot oil in a pan. 
He sees you, who should be long in bed, standing at the stove, spatula in hand. 
You’re barely wearing anything, a pair of panties and a cropped tank top. He and Sydney both have told you not to wear so little when cooking with hot oil. You never listen though. You’re wiggling your hips to a song that he can hear muffled, coming from your headphones. 
Carmen takes a moment to drink you, still getting used to the fact that this is real. That he isn’t alone anymore and he has two people to take care of, who in turn take care of him. 
Sydney wastes no time in making her way to you, arms wrapping around your waist, a kiss pressed to your cheek. Sydney has been used to your kindness far longer than Carmen. 
You squeal, at first from shock and then from affection. Giving Sydney two sticky kisses of her own. “Welcome home,” you greet, voice soft and silky. 
Not wanting your efforts to go to ruin, you squeeze Sydney tightly in one arm then use your other to stir a big pot, filled to the brim with Mac and Cheese. A simple meal, one you’re confident you can cook to edible standards. 
It’s still a little nerve-wracking, cooking for two people who are so talented. You feel like a child holding out a crayon drawing to Gustave Courbet. You’re not sure you’ll ever feel on equal footing with them in the kitchen, but you know, that your mac and cheese goes down well on nights like these.
Carmen is still awkward in his affections. “You didn’t need to do this,” He says timidly walking over to the stove. Carmen appreciates the tidiness of the kitchen, the pots already cleaned and drying on the rack. You’re stirring the mac and cheese around, waiting for the patties on the skillet to finish cooking. 
Syd’s head is resting against your shoulder, she’s completely lax against you. You have this magic about you that Carmen so clearly lacks, of making people feel calm. 
“I know,” You reply, a smug grin on your face as you lean up for a kiss. Carmen reciprocates, kissing you short and sweet.  Sydney pouts at being disrupted, half-asleep against you. You kiss her, to soothe her, but continue your doteing on Carmen. 
Your hand briefly leaves the wooden spoon, moving instead to run through Carmen's hair and scratch down the back of his neck. His shoulders relax a little, eyes closing at the brief feeling of bliss. 
He grimaces when your hand goes back to the spoon, in need of your tender touches.“Why don’t you go for a shower bear, it’ll be all ready when you’re done,” 
He nods, still not really up to talking if he doesn’t need to. He unhunches his back, going back to his full height but then hesitates, leaning down again to press a firm kiss to the side of your head. 
He leaves the room with pink staining his cheeks. You can’t help but grin, endeared by his little affections. 
Syd plays with your fingers, mumbling into your shoulder, now that Carmen has gone, about the stressors of the day. An asshole who kept sending food back, a delivery driver with no manors, a ruined pot of sauce. 
You nodd along, content to listen and let her burn off steam. 
“Is this ok?” You ask, holding out a spoon of pasta to her, hand cupped underneath. You know it is, but enjoy the act of feeding her too much to not ask for her opinions. 
She opens her mouth, letting you guide the spoon to her. You adore Sydney when she gets like this, like a tired baby, happy for you to dote on. Your tired baby. She likes to do things herself, used to being self-sufficient. You enjoy it when she lets do things for her.
She hums around the spoon, making no effort to open her eyes at any point. “Really good,”
You smile, unsure you can even feel more content. 
A few minutes later the shower cuts off, Carmen walks back into the kitchen, pyjamas resting low on his hips. Syd is almost asleep on your shoulder, drooling into your spaghetti straps. 
You couldn’t be more in love.
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opcpaintings · 2 years
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fence | d. targaryen
Description: Daemon Targaryen meets his best friend's daughter in a Taylor Swift concert.
Genre: social media au
Rating: Teen [age gap, dad's best friend, beach au]
Author's Note: picture below is by the lovely @nyctophilic0vitnir 🥰
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Daemon's smiles slowly - seeing that both of his daughters were enjoying the concert. Of course, it cost him a fortune - but anything for his twins. "If we survived the Great War!" Baela kept singing and dancing to the sound of Taylor's acoustic melody.
"Uhuh, uhuh..." she hummed while holding her sister's hand.
Daemon turns to the scene in front of him - another woman was blocking his view. You were wearing a white button down shirt, and colorful pants that were decorated with purple-pink butterflies.
"Clôture," he mumbled in French, and to his surprise you turned around. "Excusez-moi?" your eyebrows merged into each other. "Sorry," he rolled his eyes - not in the mood to get into a fight.
A frown is permanently etched on his face after that.
Annoying.
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ilikesojubutsojissilent 🔐 some old asshole called me a fence in taylor's concert....like know ur place oldieee mcoldddieee
swanchiken9: didn't u call him 'lana del rey' vinyl? - ilikesojubutsojissilent: I CAN'T REMEMBER THAT
ssexretary22: 'idc if he cheats on me or something but he's kinda hot' - ilikesojubutsojissilent: THE VOICES, THE MF VOICES 🥰
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Of course, fate wasn't happy with just one interaction.
Daemon saw you again - a few weeks after the concert.
"Ah, this is my daughter." Harwin smiles, pulling you closer to his body. "Last time I saw her, she was still 'this' tall." Laenor chuckled, hands pointing at his knees. Oh, does he remember seeing you - the little cunt that blocked his view during the concert.
"She's already taller than you," Harwin laughed, gaze trailing towards Daemon. "Don't remind me." Laenor rolled his eyes while taking a swig of his beer. His jaw clenches seeing you in front of him.
Plump lips that were perfect for kissing - eyes that were perfect for staring - most of all, he liked the way he hated you.
Harwin turns his head slightly in your direction. "He's Uncle Daemon - we used to be friends back in high school." Harwin explained and you extended your hand for him to shake. He clicks his tongue in distaste, but he still shakes your hand - soft and fragranced.
"It's nice to meet you," you mumble shyly - staring at the floor.
"You too." his lips settled into a thin line.
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itz_y/n: the mood for today 🦋
14 comments 459 likes
helaenablackwidow: amazinggh rhae_strong: I LOVE IT 💗 - itz_y/n: thanks auntie!!
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Daemon was beginning to regret staying in Harwin's house.
A groan escapes his mouth, watching you play with your food. It seems like everything you did managed to anger him. "So, Daemon? You've ever been to this part of Australia?" his friend inquires, one hand was holding a fork - and the other was around his new wife, Rhaenyra (his niece.)
"Never, actually - I've only been to Sydney." he confesses, choosing to ignore your existence. "Well, you're going to enjoy it here - it's calm and the beach isn't filled with that much wildlife." he pointed, and Daemon's gaze moves in your direction.
There was a slight tan on your face - hair slightly matted from saltwater and he could smell the salt breeze. He'd enjoy it here.
"I've heard a lot of conflicting reports," he chuckled, exchanging a knowing stare with his niece. "I got bitten by a spider once!" she defends herself, knowing that she wasn't used to Australia's fauna. "She got very lucky - it wasn't venomous." her husband grinned.
"But my daughter, not much." Harwin looked at you.
"Got bitten by a venomous one - but trust me, I wasn't the one panicking." you giggled, and Harwin smiled defeatedly. It was hard raising a child on his own - since your mother was a no show. "I had to rush her to the hospital via airlift, it was a good thing they got the antidote in time." he informed.
"Via airlift?" Daemon questioned.
"Yep, because apparently the car isn't fast enough." you rolled your eyes playfully. "The helicopter gives them a sense of urgency," Harwin shrugged, turning towards Daemon. "I'm sure you get it mate. We'd do anything for our daughters." your father looks for an ally.
Rhaenyra chuckles quietly.
"Don't let his cold exterior fool you. He once rushed Rhaena to the hospital because she got a rash - and he thought that it was sepsis." Rhaenyra rats out, and her uncle lets out a small laugh.
"I guess we are the same, Harwin."
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itz_y/n: surfing weather 🌊
10 comments 829 likes
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"I remember you, actually." your opened your mouth - taking a casual sip of the newly-fermented kombucha that your dad made. "You called me a fence," you pouted, and he kept staring down at you. He had a murderous glint in his eyes - one that spoke 'sex' and lust. He keeps looking at you - gaze trailing up and down from your navel to your face. "You were." he admitted, no sign of remorse on his face.
"It's not my fault that you're short," you rolled your eyes, adjusting your bikini top. "But I'm still taller than you," he yapped - amused by your sudden fieriness. What was inside that kombucha?
"It would be embarrassing if you weren't, right?" you smirked and he leaned down on your body, butt firmly pressed on your bed-bed. By this point, your hips were barely touching each other. "Shame too because you'd be handsome, if it weren't for your attitude," you mumbled - seeing how far his temper would reach.
A light scoff exits his lips, his hands were on your thigh.
"My attitude, now?" he growled - rubbing small circles on your inner leg. It made your blood pump - eyes see red. The thought that anyone could walk in on the both of you eye-fucking was exhilarating. The chase was fun - but to have this man? It was wrong, immoral, weird - and you liked that.
"You should be thankful that I find you handsome, not a lot of men are." you replied - seemingly unfazed with his seduction. "- and not a lot of women are pretty too," he answered, eyes staring deep into your soul. "When you say it - it sounds offensive," you narrowed your eyes and his hand reaches for your cheek.
"You're a pretty girl - if that eases the offensiveness," he mused. He was the pomegranate - and you were Persephone. "A little," you stared at his lips - smiling as his face moves closer.
He was just about to kiss you - but you pull away.
"It was nice chatting, Uncle Daemon." you grinned, rising to your feet and wrapping the dainty towel around your hips.
Uncle Daemon, the word seemed to stir something inside of him.
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itz_y/n: late nights and early mornings down under 🦘🪖
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Daemon keeps staring at your instagram post - he doesn't usually do social media but he wanted to pry deeper into your private life. It wasn't hard finding you - Harwin and Rhaenyra posted you regularly.
A low growl escapes his mouth seeing the first photo - only a sheet was covering your body.
"Daemon, we'll be gone for a few hours. Can you watch the little girl for me?" Harwin offers with a kind smile and he closes his phone immediately. His friend would kill him. "Sure," he nodded - quickly handed with a bottle of beer.
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He leans on your doorframe, watching while you scrolled through social media mindlessly. "Are you always left at home?" he cleared his throat and your attention shifts to him. "I don't mind," you answer, patting the empty space beside you.
"Well, I do - it's boring here." he complained - having no issues in laying down beside you. His father always told him that his best asset was his command of everyone. Daemon took up space, he could say what he wanted to without fear of consequence. "What do you propose we do?" you place your phone on the pillow.
"Fuck?" he teased - a laugh escapes your mouth. "You're older than me - aren't you supposed to make more sense?" you joked, staring deep into his purple eyes. He was wearing a tight shirt - you could make out the small curves of his body - his abs and his nipples. "I'm making perfect sense," he shrugged - hands moving to your hips.
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