#food testing sydney

[let-it-rip-bear]

it's finals season so i dunno how much i'll be able to write...but i have a moment stuck in my mind right now and i need to get it out. this takes place in the final scene of "Braciole".

he's here, he's with me, he never left.

Everyone's gathered at the table. There's plenty of conversation going on, people catching up and getting to know each other, people digging in. Carmy almost refuses a plate out of pure habit, but before he can, Sugar passes a plate full of spaghetti to him. He accepts it gratefully and finds that, for the first time in a while, he actually wants to eat the food he cooked. He wants to taste it—he wants this food to fill his stomach and make him warm. He hasn't felt like that in a long time.

Carmy's a bit hesitant to dig in, afraid that the food might make his stomach do flips until he has to puke. It smells really, really good. But his biggest meal in the past several few months was been a double peanut butter and jelly sandwich paired with a bag of chips and a soda. This food is rich, filling, and it's Michael's recipe. He's afraid his stomach has shrunk and learned to run solely on shitty food. What if this is too much? What if he fucked it up?

(He's so fucking scared that he's ruining Michael's legacy; ruining the Beef, the spaghetti, his recipes, and failing the people that lost Michael, too. The first and only time that Carmy tried to make the pasta, someone said It's not like Mikey's and it launched him head-first into a panic attack. He didn't try again after that. Except for that day, with the tournament, he almost made it—he almost accepted that his execution of the family meal spaghetti would be disappointing, subpar, and a disrespect of Mikey's legacy. He didn't know what else to do, so he was going to make the spaghetti, and then Marcus called him Chef for the first time in nearly 6 months, and he felt grounded in his own body. Less like someone trying to walk in somebody else's skin. He remembered what it was like to take risks and the impossible feeling of creation. He remembered why he became a chef in the first place. In the end, he threw the can in the trash. He made sure everyone stretched the gravy, beef, and bread, because his sandwiches would be enough.)

Richie cackles, louder than everyone else, and it snaps him back to the present. He hasn't heard that full-belly laugh since high school. Then everyone seems to feed off the energy, and everyone is cackling. It's not quiet. He likes it. It's so loud, but no one's yelling at each other, no one's yelling at Carmy. They're laughing and grinning and it fills the room to the brim. It's chaotic but it doesn't make him feel trapped or overwhelmed. The feeling is not entirely foreign, but it's so very different from what his life was for a very long time that he doesn't recognize it at first.

It takes him a long moment to realize that he feels safe.

So Carmy takes a deep breath and twirls some spaghetti onto his fork. Carefully, reverently, he brings it to his lips. It's a good mouthful, not the tiny bites he takes for tasting, and—

Carmy has to close his eyes against the rush of emotions.

It tastes like Michael’s cooking. It tastes like Tuesdays, like watching Mikey work, like learning to chop vegetables. It tastes familiar and safe and it’s good. He finally understands why it was the best seller.

It's almost too much, the realization that this is Michael's recipe and Carmy's execution, and that it tastes good. Really good. He almost can't breathe around the love and grief (but aren't they one in the same?) in his throat. He thinks of years past, of trying new recipes with Michael and tasting their work, realizing it's incredible, and feeling whole. For just a moment, he can imagine he's sitting in their kitchen in their home, gathered around the island and urging Sugar to try it, too.

Someone gently taps his hand, then covers it with their own. It's Sydney. He opens his eyes and sees that she's holding a clean napkin out to him. He blinks, feels tears already rolling down his face; he blinks again and feels another wave overflow. Carmy takes the napkin and mouths thanks, drying his cheeks. It's a pointless effort because he's crying in earnest now. She smiles softly, bittersweet. Marcus, who sits to his left, carefully puts his arm around Carmy's shoulder. He leans in, turning his hand so that he's holding Sydney's.

Everyone seems to realize at the same time that he's crying and, after a quiet moment, they continue with their conversations. Just as boisterous as before.

His eyes land on Sugar and sees that her eyes are wet, too, and Pete's rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. The tide of emotions comes back, nearly as strong as the first, and he covers his eyes with one hand. It feels like there's space for him, for his grief. He finds that he couldn't stop smiling even if he tried.

It feels okay. He feels okay. Carmy takes another bite, savoring the flavors.

It's been a very long time since he's felt this close to his brother.

[peonyblossom]

au where ethan is a cooking tiktoker and sydney is a comedy skit tiktoker

[woodywood101blog]

Experimental: Conception

Yazan loved learning about new medical breakthroughs. As a doctor, he spends a lot of time understanding how new technologies are being tested and introduced that help make his patients' lives better and healthier. He mostly found it interesting learning about the newest ideas. As soon as it says "first" in the research paper title or news report, he was right on it.

So when he saw a research paper from an Australian team that said "first experimental pregnancy in a man", he looked at it with both intrigue and concern. Clearly men shouldn't get involved in something so.. feminine, he thought.

Of course, when he read the paper, it explained that the researchers at the University of Sydney's School of Medicine were only able to confirm viability up to 3 weeks of pregnancy. They explained that the hormonal changes required for the pregnancy to continue in a man would be so overwhelming that it would cause harm to the man, and that is without considering that it would be medically an ectopic pregnancy from the get-go. Suffice to say, it's medically dangerous, and emphasised as such by the researchers.

Oh well, good try, Yazan thought.

A couple of weeks later, an email popped into Yazan's inbox about a conference in Sydney, and a request to present there. He actually had never been to Australia before, especially with how expensive flights and everyday costs there are, so he took the chance and agreed to present.

Yazan finally made it across to Australia and was able to present his new research in haematology, while also taking in the sights and experiences of Sydney. One night, he stumbled across Oxford Street, the hub for queer culture in Sydney and home of the Mardi Gras parade. He grabbed the first high table he could see at the Oxford Hotel, and just observed people going about their fun Saturday nights while tucking into a steak.

He saw someone eyeing him from the side, and when he turned he saw a beautiful man. Although he was short, he appeared built like Yazan. He had short brown hair, a square jaw and light stubble, but didn't appear stoic or aggressive like other men. This man slowly walked towards him and sat in the seat next to Yazan.

"You're Dr Yazan, right?"

"Yeah... and you are?"

"Mike! I think I saw you at the conference in Darling Harbour today? Well done today!"

Sure enough, Mike was sitting and observing Yazan's presentation, but also for other reasons. Mike was part of the Australian team that researched male pregnancy. He had been developing a form of hyper-concentrated hormonal medication that would allow a pregnancy to remain viable for longer than 3 weeks in men, but was a long way off small-scale animal testing, let alone human testing. Mike was getting worried the research would be wound down by the university, so was starting to think about ways of getting the research to speed forward, without the university's immediate knowledge.

And he knew exactly what he wanted to do...

"So, that's the general gist of what I've been researching on..." Yazan said. "I kinda need to pop to the bathroom quickly.. do you mind looking after my meal, please? Feel free to have some of the fries!"

"No worries!"

Show time. Once Yazan was out of sight, Mike grabbed a small vial of what looked like salt flakes, but were actually some of the experimental hormones. They looked almost exactly like the coarse salt already on Yazan's steak, so it could work, Mike thought.

"Here goes nothing..." Mike sprinkled the salt all over the steak and the fries. At the very least, his food will just be very salty.

"Hey there, thanks for that!" Yazan said as he got back a couple of minutes later. They ended up continuing their conversation about the research they were respectively undertaking. Yazan asked about the fertility trials Mike helped with, including the male pregnancy trials, but made it very clear he wasn't surprised with the outcome.

The talking slowly turned to flirting, especially after Yazan finished his meal. He started feeling quite flustered, and vaguely horny. Of course, it helped that Mike was one of the cutest Aussies he had met here. Eventually, Yazan took off his tie and unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt.

"Looking good, doc" Mike said with a wink.

"If you want to see more, want to come back to my hotel?"

And with that, Yazan and Mike sauntered their way from Oxford Street, across Hyde Park towards Sydney Town Hall. Mike took his chance and reached towards Yazan's hand. Yazan latched on without question.

Once they got to Yazan's hotel room, it was almost instant how quickly they got their clothes off each other. They were like two horny rabbits going at it, and they were at it almost all night. Yazan felt such a rush of energy throughout the whole time, and never once felt tired or spent. Mike wondered if the hormones were doing their thing, but those thoughts were overruled by the fact he was fucking the hottest doctor in town!

Each time, Yazan urged to be the bottom, which he found unusual as he normally is the top. There was something about Mike that just made Yazan want to be fucked by him.. maybe it was the muscles hidden under Mike's suit? All Yazan understood was that he needed to be fucked now through any means.

They woke up the following morning, the bedsheets sprawled in every direction on top of Mike and Yazan. Mike woke up with his dick still in Yazan, and still rock hard. Sure enough, it appeared that Yazan was still eager to go when he started waking up and felt Mike still in him.

"I could honestly keep going all day, Mike. I feel like I'm 18 years old all over again!"

"Really?"

After one (or two) more loads in Yazan, they finally moved into the shower. Yazan's abs had become slightly misshapen from how much Mike came in him. It was a bit surreal for Mike to see, because it really did look like he was pregnant.

What have I done, Mike worried.

***

I haven't done this in quite a while, but finally getting around to getting the first part out of a longer-form story I've been thinking about. Let me know your thoughts!

[faerygrant]

having a family with carmy thoughts and headcanons pt.1

summary: engagement, wedding, honeymoon, baby!

౨ৎ Carmen doesn’t propose until 5 years into the relationship! Which although felt like a longtime ended up being worth it, as he had been through extensive therapy and had learned to deal with his anxiety and family traumas.

౨ৎ The wedding is simple and spontaneous, early morning, family heirloom rings at the courthouse. With Nat and Pete being the witnesses. Carmen’s on edge most of that morning until Pete talks him down, which you’re thankful for.

౨ৎ The reception likewise is a simple affair held in Nat and Pete’s spacious backyard. Bright fairy lights are strewn about the garden, long tables laid out for family, friends and staff from the bear. You’d insisted on having a champagne tower, which Carmy had kindly instructed Richie and Fak to put together, to your surprise it had gone well, leaving guests in awe.

౨ৎ The cake was Millefeuille, a classic for Italian weddings, it was the only thing that Carmen had explicitly asked for during the wedding prep and you were happy to oblige. The catering was courtesy of Sydney and Tina and by the looks of the satisfied guests it was a hit. Carmen’s family sat across one large table, so did your family and friends, meanwhile the staff of the Bear had their own.

౨ৎ After your first dance, which Carmen had been apprehensive about from the beginning had actually gone well, the two of you made your way over to greet the guests. The staff were all smiles as they conversate amongst each other, Richie cracking jokes with them as he went back and forth between their table and the family one, Tina and Sydney chatting lightly and Fak and Ebra rating the desserts for Marcus, who was kind enough to prepare an array of treats for the occasion.

౨ৎ By the end of the night you’d ended up in Sydney’s arms, blackout drunk, while Carmen who didn’t drink much, save for a few flutes of champagne, bid the guests goodbye on your behalf. You didn’t remember much except Sugar and Syd helping you out of your dress and getting your settled into the car with Carmy.

౨ৎ The honeymoon is short but memorable, due to yours and Carmen’s hectic work schedules. Spent in the South of France, the two of you bond over food, wine and ofcourse the art. It’s so calming for you to see him so at ease, not on edge and genuinely relaxed, being surrounded by the two things he loved most, food and art, he really was in his element.

౨ৎ The conversation of kids is never brought up, but you see the longing glances Carmen gives his niece and nephew, or the genuine smiles he gives when Richie shows him one of Eva’s many accomplishments. Giving you hope, that maybe someday he’d be open to having some of his own.

౨ৎ Your world is turned upside down when during an early summer morning you’re awoken by violent fits of illness. Throwing up into the toilet bowl while experiencing the most painful acid reflux in your life. You’re tired and upset and Carmen’s freaking out, opting to call in for the day incase you’d come down with a bug, as to not get the rest of the staff sick. When the sickness persists however and Carmen doesn’t seem to be getting sick, he goes back to work and that’s when you notice something strange.

౨ৎ A little red punctuation mark had been missing for a month now and that’s when you knew you’d have to take a test, for better or for worse. So once Carmy had left for the restaurant you’d scrambled to CVS for the test and taken it in the bathroom because you couldn’t wait for the results.

౨ৎ Explaining that you were 3+ weeks pregnant to your husband with commitment issues, anxiety, ptsd and familial trauma was nerve wracking. You didn’t know how to do it, when to do it and honestly you’d contemplated just placing the test on his side table and hiding in the attic of your new home, but alas you couldn’t.

౨ৎ Carmen’s day off was the day you’d deicided to come clean, he could tell you were still feeling well but thankfully hadn’t put two and two together. So early in the morning after making him breakfast you’d sat him down and cut to the chase. It’s safe to say that tears were shed, good and bad and after guiding him through breathing exercises his therapist had taught the both of you, you were able to get him to calm down.

౨ৎ He admitted that he was scared and you were so glad he was able to be so vulnerable with you, in sharing his fears and doubts. You assured him, held each other and made promises you’d hope the other could keep. As the months of your pregnancy passed you saw growth in Carmy, he lit up at the ultrasounds, cried from joy during the first scan, went above and beyond for your private gender reveal and was so hands on when it came to nursery duty.

౨ৎ Valentina Berzatto’s arrival took place during the early hours of the 14th of February, Valentine’s Day. Hence the name Valentina. (Also to stick to his Italian roots) you were exhausted, carmen was in tears as he laid his daughter against his bare chest as you watched the two of them, feeling so thankful for your family.

౨ৎ Your parents had come in about the same time as Sugar, Pete and their kids, all of whom were all smiles carrying with them; gifts and flowers in tow. The cousins were so excited to meet the baby, squealing and giggling as their parents assisted them in taking turns to hold her. Your parents were equally as excited, snapping photos of the ordeal, congratulating both you and Carmy.

౨ৎ Valentina hadn’t met the staff of the bear till her 3rd day on earth, as the two of you had been so exhausted and all you both seemed to do was sleep. So Carmy had offered for his staff to come visit the hospital around afternoon before the two of you fell asleep. Tina was the first to come say hi, happily taking her namesake into her arms and cooing in delight. Before she had passed the baby back to Carmen to fuss over you and ensure you were feeling okay. Sydney was as expected, frightened but excited for the both of you, she was scared to hold Val at first, but Carmen insisted she wouldn’t harm her so she did, smiling at you when your baby had opened her eyes and stretched while in Syds arms.

౨ৎ The boys from the bear were as expected, obnoxious in their introduction to Valentina. Richie and Fak insisted on showing up in suits to make a good first impression on their “niece” to which Carmy had just rolled his eyes and smiled. Richie however was dead serious and you were pretty sure you’d seen a stray tear fall from his eyes, when he first held the baby (which he was quick to cover up). You smiled in joy however when you witnessed him take Carmy aside, hugging him tightly and letting him know that Mikey would’ve been “fuckin’ proud.”

౨ৎ The first few months of parenthood aren’t easy on the two of you, at all. Carmen is caught up at work, while you’re left with Valentina for hours on end most days. Carmen tries, he really does, to keep you happy, taken care of and make you feel supported but he gets consumed by his work too often. The fourth month in particular is hardest on you, Val suffers bouts of colic daily, Carmen is nonstop at the bear and getting his attention is near impossible and you’re just utterly exhausted. That’s when Carmen and Nat find you curled up in a ball beside Val’s bassinet one day after work. You’re distraught, disheveled and inconsolable, while your daughter sleeps soundly.

౨ৎ Carmen genuinely feels like he’d failed in life, the sight had him so fucking scared that he thought you would do something tragic. He immediately takes time off work, spending most his mornings and nights feeding, burping and soothing your baby. He stays by your side throughout the day, ensuring you’ve eaten, bathed and had some alone time away from the baby. After the heartbreaking scene from that evening, Nat had sat him down after he’d had a full blown panic attack and warned him of the consequences of postpartum, and gave him tips on ways he support you through it.

౨ৎ As Valentina approached ten months it was clear to the both of you that your girl had quite the personality. The two of you spent most of your days together, seeing daddy off to work in the early mornings before a feed, followed by a diaper change. Tummy time was Val’s favourite and you always snapped photos of her gummy smile to send to her dad. Nap time was your personal favourite due to the few hours of baby free peace you got, it was made even better when Carmen’s lunch would fall under this time, giving the two of you some time to be together.

౨ৎ Both you and Carmen did bath time together, Valentina splashing around happily as the two of you happily allowed her to soak you, every time. After lots of water, bubbles and smooches, you have Carmen sit in and quietly read to your girl as you feed her before bed in her cozy rocking chair, courtesy of Donna (one of many things she’d spontaneously brought over for the baby during a fit of hysteria)

let me know if you’d like a part 2!

[katelynnwrites]

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

warnings: syd’s injury 😔

word count: 2077

summary: requested, domestic fluff with sydney

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That couldn’t be further from the truth though.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re starstruck because of her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

******

Now that she is injured, things have to change.

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

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

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

You just want her to rest her ankle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your girlfriend chuckles and your heart lightens.

******

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

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

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

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

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

‘I love you too.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

******

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

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

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

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

Sydney wiggles comically as she gets comfortable and you giggle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

******

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

German Translation:

sonnenschein - sunshine

[dreamgirledward]

sydney's omelette........what a perfect scene. the omlette's not frilly but made with so much care. all the recipes she tested alone or with carmy were off because she was trying too hard to make something she thinks would be considered the best, the most unique, the most different. but the omelette is the most simple thing made fun and delicately. it's eggs and cheese and potato chips and scallions and butter. "best part of my day. like ten minutes ago, I made nat an omelette." "yeah you love taking care of people". she's cooking out of love, which is the easiest thing for her to do. "let me make you something". let me take care of you! she makes nat the most delicious omelette without thinking about it because she sees she's hungry and needs to be taken care of for just a fraction of her day! that's what cooking is for sydney. it's love. food is love. god.s

[propertyofwhitney67]

How would the LIs take care of an academic achiever Pc who's pushed themselves to their limit and clearly exhausted and close to passing out, but insist they're fine and should continue studying since they have a test tmr?

Whitney doesn’t realize it at first, he knew something was off but not exactly what. He only fully realizes you’re not well when your knees give out while trying to take your book back from him. He’s pissed at you for doing this to yourself and pissed he didn’t realize how bad it was. Probably destroys the book just to force you to stop and rest. He can’t have his slut giving out on him.

Kylar notices everything and is very aware and very worried. He’s been trying to get you to rest but it took you almost collapsing for him to really ramp up his efforts. Honestly? He probably kidnaps you so you’re safe with him. No tests to worry about while you’re with him :)

Robin actively voices their concern, but never pushes. When he finds you up in the middle of the night looking close to passing out, he finally forces you to stop. He pulls you away from your desk and helps you into bed despite your protests. “You need to rest, otherwise you'll pass out and not even be able to take the test." or something

P!Sydney can see how hard you're working yourself and they're very concerned. Tries to get you to rest in the library but you keep insisting you're ok. By the time you look physically unwell he confiscates all your study material and forces you to rest. Will not take "no" for an answer.

Alex only notices when you damn near pass out in the fields. Helps you back inside and upstairs to your bed. Tells you that you have to take better care of yourself but probably doesn't take your books.

Avery is pissed when you damn near pass out when you're dancing together at a party. The most he does is get you some food just so he doesn't look like an asshole. Docs your pay at the end of the night

Eden notices how tired you are in the garden and easily scoops you up and takes you to bed. He revokes your town privileges until you learn to take better care of yourself.

[wardenparker]

Hummingbird Has Landed, ch 15

Marcus Pike x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

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: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 10k 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, reader is mentioned as turning 30 during the course of the story, dom/sub dynamics* Tooth-decaying sweetness, talk of pregnancy/impregnation, unexpected visitor, references to rough sex, possessiveness. Oral sex (female receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex. Summary: After almost a year together, you and Marcus celebrate your first Valentine's Day together with a weekend trip away. Notes: We are inching closer to the wedding with every chapter! This week enjoy some sex and romance, Pike style.

Ch1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12 ~ Ch 13 ~ Ch 14

The flight from Dulles to JFK would be shorter, but there’s a certain charm to taking the train. The rhythmic clacking of the wheels on the track is almost romantic and Marcus had secured an entire compartment for you, him and Agent Sellers. Agent Bailey will meet you in New York with a car and to trade off with your other security detail, but for now, it seems like it’s just the two of you in the car. “Hotel first?” Marcus asks, kissing your fingertips and you look out the window at the passing scenery.

“Because you want to drop off our bags or because you want to test out the mattress?” Either way the answer is yes, and you relax in your seat all over again. This idea to go away for a few days for Valentine’s Day had made you feel guilty at first, but you were easy to convince once you remembered that it was around Valentine’s last year that everything has started to happen between you. Now that chaos of finishing the house and moving in together is over with, a couple of days in New York sounded perfect.

"I do need to see if your legs look different on my shoulders in New York than in D.C." he teases, wagging his eyebrows playfully. "Three days of no house details, no work, and all we have to worry about is walking out of our hotel room dressed."

“And making our reservations on time.” With your fingers tangled through his, this time you pull his hand over to kiss his fingers instead. “I may have called in a favor for our dinner tonight.”

"Where are we having dinner?" He had left the dinner reservations up to you, knowing you would have a list of favorite places you would want to go.

"Tonight we're going to see a friend," you hum, leaning into him as much as you can in your seat as the train speeds toward New York. "One of Syd's friends from culinary school opened a restaurant right in the city a couple of years ago and I've just never gotten the chance to go up and try it out. So I called in a favor and got us a reservation for after the theater tonight. Neo is an Italian steakhouse, which sounded right up your alley."

"Nice." He's impressed by the idea of a nice steakhouse that is close to you and Sydney. His hand slides down to your thigh and he squeezes it gently.

"And then tomorrow night..." Your hand over his on your thigh is basically just grounding. Holding you to him and making sure you don't float away on the bliss of having some time off with your fiancé. "Every time we watch FoodTV you get obsessed with watching Alex Guarnaschelli, so I got us a reservation at Butter."

"Really?" His eyes widen in delight and he can't believe that you would go through the trouble for something like that. It's the small things that you notice that makes him feel special. You do so many little things that show him you pay attention to his interests, passing or intense. "That's— wow." He shakes his head. "Thank you."

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” you hum, leaning your head on his shoulder. The train ride was a special treat but now that you’re almost in the city you’re eager for your trip to really begin. “I love you more than anything.”

"I love you too." He leans his own head against yours. "I booked our tickets to the Met." He tells you quickly, knowing you will like that.

“I’m sooooo excited for museum time with my own personal art expert.” He claims he isn’t, but you’ve learned in the last year not to listen to his protests. He practically gives guided tours whenever you go to the Smithsonian together.

He rolls his eyes playfully but he doesn’t naysay. He knows that you look at it as a point of pride almost. “Anything else you want to do? I think it’s a little too cold to take a boat out in Central Park.”

"There are a million museums and historical sites." And you can't wait to explore each and every one of them with him. "It's just too bad it's too early in the year for a ball game."

“We can always make a summer day trip.” Marcus immediately offers. “Maybe the subway series?”

"That would be fun." You perk up instantly at the idea of it. "The MET is tomorrow, so how about we ask the concierge at the hotel what their favorite underrated attraction is for today before the theater?"

“That sounds good.” He agrees. “Something that is kind of off the beaten path sounds fun.”

The last hour of the trip is smooth sailing, and early check-in at your hotel means that you and Marcus are unpacking your suitcases in almost no time. It’s snowy in New York but not in a way that will add up, and it makes the whole thing look quite picturesque from your seventh-floor window.

“Too bad the fireplaces have been closed for years.” Marcus comments. “Couldn’t you imagine curling up next to a fire and watching the snow fall?”

“Next year let’s rent a cabin,” you hum, leaning back in his arms as you look out the window together. “Get snowed in.”

“That sounds like something we can definitely do.” For the suggestion, you deserve a kiss. “Unless you are pregnant. Then I don’t know if I would want to risk it.”

“If I’m pregnant we’ll choose a very easily accessible hotel where we can watch the snow fall instead.” His concern is sweet enough to earn him a kiss in return, and they’re getting longer every time. “Someplace where we can get snacks delivered.”

“Pregnancy cravings.” Marcus practically moons at the idea and he cups your cheeks to kiss you again.

“So…I’ve been thinking about something.” This calls for a face to face conversation, and you turn around in his arms.

“Oh yeah?” He doesn’t think that it’s anything bad, you come to him when something heavy is on your mind. “Tell me what you’ve been thinking, sweetheart.”

The two of you have always agreed that the timing of your lives needed to be a joint conversation, but somehow you don’t think this particular idea is going to need much debating. Not much if any, knowing Marcus. “I think I’d like to stop taking my birth control the day before the wedding,” you tell him, slipping both arms around his waist. “I know it might not happen for us immediately, but I think everything else has fallen into place for us so maybe this might, too.”

Marcus tilts his head, a slow smile spreading over his face and lighting it up. “Yeah? You want to do that?” He asks quietly. “I— I think that’s perfect.” He admits. “As long as you are ready.”

You're glowing as you lean into him, already feeling like you could burst with happiness and pride. "I'd say we should start now but there's no way my wedding dress will fit me if I'm pregnant."

“I want you to be able to drink a toast at our wedding if we can help it.” Marcus admits.

"Especially since you went through all the trouble to pick out good toasting champagne with the wedding planner." It had been an entire conversation of wine pairings and champagne choices that you hadn't understood a word of but watching Marcus get excited about tasting notes had been well worth it.

“I think you will enjoy it. It will go well with our wedding cake.” He reminds you, knowing you are excited for the replica cake the bakery in Boston had fallen over over themselves to agree to bake.

"I'm excited for everything to come together." After so easily picking out bridesmaids' dresses last weekend and even finding a mother of the bride dress at the same shop, the wedding is feeling like everything is really falling into place. "Last things are to pick a place for the rehearsal dinner and to book our honeymoon."

“We’ve had so many ideas for our honeymoon…” he laughs quietly, remembering all the various places you’ve both come up with. “Have we actually decided on where we are going to go?”

"I think we've talked about almost every place on earth," you laugh right along with him. "But no. We haven't decided. I think the last time we talked we said it should be someplace that neither of us have been."

“Maybe we need to make a honeymoon wheel.” Marcus snorts. “Have you seen the trend where a guy will make a restaurant wheel to spin when their girlfriend or wife can’t decide?” He shrugs. “We could do the same thing with our honeymoon ideas.”

“Hotel room crafts.” It’s silly and sweet enough of an idea to make you giggle, and you press more kisses to Marcus’s lips and cheeks. “I don’t know about making a wheel, but we could do slips of paper with destinations on them in the ice bucket instead of a hat.”

“Like a lottery drawing.” He snorts. “That could be fun.”

“I have a notebook in my purse.” Which doesn’t surprise him one bit, but you tug Marcus back into the room from the window. “Grab the ice bucket?”

“In a minute.” He smirks and his hands slide from your waist to your ass. “You remember what I told you I wanted to do on the train?” He coos, leaning in and kissing your neck.

“Mmmmhmm.” A soft moan of approval and agreement sounds from deep in your throat, but you feel like teasing him just a tiny bit. “Something about…shoulders?”

“Your legs, my shoulders.” He grinds his hips against yours, his hardening cock proof of his desire and he smirks. “I need to see if you taste different in New York.”

It is pretty much never difficult to convince either of you when a good time to be intimate has appeared, and you nudge him backward again toward the bed. “Then why are we still wearing clothes?”

“That’s a good question.” He goes willingly and he reaches for the edge of your sweater to pull it up. “You’re wearing far too many of them right now.”

Sweaters, t-shirts, pants, and everything else end up scattered around the room, littering the carpet with evidence of the romance in the air. Marcus has you laid out on your back on the bed in no time and you happily tug him down to you for a kiss when he climbs in with you.

“My gorgeous hummingbird.” His hands slide over your clavicle and he kisses your collar bone gently. Worshipfully. “My love, my soulmate.”

“I love you.” Simple words, but meant with all the feeling in the world as your limbs curl around him and you melt under his kisses.

“I. Love. You. Too.” Every word is punctuated by a kiss. Making sure that he teases and caresses your skin with his lips.

“Baby.” After almost a year together, you and Marcus have no trouble finding the right buttons to push. You know each other’s favorite things, each other’s ticks and hidden kinks. You know Marcus adores being showered in praise just you like him to have a firm hand. The flow of your relationship has been built on respect and trust and mutual admiration. Which has made experimenting and finding the things you enjoy together all the more rewarding.

“What do you need, sweetheart?” Marcus pops his head up, eyes dark and fixed on you. “What do you want me to give you, sweet thing? I’ll give you anything you want, you just have to tell me.”

"Just you, baby." Anything and everything he is will to give you is always what you want. Just him. As much of Marcus as he is willing and able to pour into you any time you have moments to yourself.

“You have me, baby. You’ve got all of me.” He groans, adding to teeth to his kisses as he starts to move down your body.

"All of me." It's so true. And true for both of you. The complete devotion you have to each other is obvious. Lying naked wrapped in each other's arms might be the most honest and most vulnerable you ever are, and there is no one in the world you are more grateful to share that feeling with.

Marcus groans, your words of affirmation and affection always affect him, but none like they do when you are both stripped bare. When there is nothing between you but the air and your beating hearts. He drops a featherlight kiss on your stomach, which will one day hopefully protect his children, and then down to your hip.

"We really need to start asking hotels if they have sound proof rooms," you giggle, already sighing as Marcus moves lower and lower on your body.

"Let them hear." He chuckles, never having a problem with others knowing how satisfied you are. He brings your leg up onto his shoulder as he settles between your thighs and he licks his lips as he parts your folds to expose the sensitive little clit that he will lavish with attention.

The touch of his fingers makes you gasp, but you still chuckle despite yourself and know that you'll hold back more here than you do at home. Having the house finally be finished has been a blessing. "Last thing we need is a sound bite of the First Daughter getting eaten out."

"Then it's a good thing they don't have access to those little videos we've made, isn't it?" He smirks, having enjoyed the clips of sexy scenes both of you had made together and while you were apart to send to each other. They were in a locked file and heavily guarded so no one could get to them.

"Well I don't want you to miss me while you're on a long case," you rationalize, letting out another deep sigh as his finger paints a long stripe along your slit.

"Oh I always miss you." He promises, leaning in and nudging his nose against your clit before he samples a small taste of your essence.

He knows how to make you moan. He knows as well as he knows his own name. And yet the first moment your back lifts off the mattress always takes you by surprise and you have to remind yourself not to squeeze his head too tight between your thighs when they clench with that first feeling of pleasure. "Fuck, baby."

The noises you make are always so fucking sweet. He’s addicted to them, to you. His own groan is sounded into your pussy as his tongue flutters around, sweeping the edges of your folds in a pattern that always makes you whine.

The fingers of one hand twist into his curls and you’re prepared to thank every possible god all over again that Marcus has been growing out his hair. It’s all his own style of course, but you don’t mind having a handle to keep him close as he devours your pussy every chance he gets.

The small whine of pleasure that he gives at the pressure of your hand in his hair is one you thoroughly enjoy and he gives you that sound every time his cock twitches against the bed. Making him even more eager in his task as he flicks his tongue over your soaked hole.

Curses and praise and moans of pleasure fill the room, babble verging on incoherent as Marcus plays you with as much skill as his bass or guitar. It’s the w of pleasure that makes you feel like you’re floating all the way above the mattress. It’s ecstasy, all on the curls and flicks of your soulmate’s tongue.

Marcus has always enjoyed sex, enjoyed giving and receiving pleasure, but there is something incredibly unique about his intimacy with you. There is a fusion of your bodies that match your souls, where your pleasure magnifies his own and he gets lost in it.

You shatter for him as easily as breathing, although in the moment you come apart you’ve replaced panted breaths with an orgasm so intense that your mind goes blank as you sob his name into the bright white afternoon. It’s almost like being at peace, the way he breaks you apart and puts you back together with tender caresses and loving kisses, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Your come down is his favorite part of foreplay. The pliant limbs and pleasure warmed skin. He loves the dazed look in your eyes, as if you are surprised by how good you feel. “Maybe I need another taste.” He murmurs against your lips.

“Babyyy.” You whine and grab his shoulder when he ducks his head like he’s going to travel down your body again. “Don’t you need to see if I ride you just as well in New York?”

He stops, tilts his head as if he is considering that point before he sighs. Making it seem like it’s a big concession on his part. “I think that needs to be explored too.” You love to ride him and he always lets you be in control when you want it, since so often you want him in control.

“It seems very important.” You nod in agreement, grinning lazily to see his eyes light up at the prospect of having your tits in his face while you bounce on him.

He comes back up to kiss you thoroughly before rolling onto his back. His hard cock laying against his stomach as he reaches out and caresses your side. “Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

It’s just teasing, but you straddle his waist and lean over to press a kiss over his heart before shifting back into position. “That’s a very dangerous thing to promise your fiancée.”

“Not at all.” His hands find your waist and he squeezes gently. “I mean every word.”

“Dangerous.” You admonish him again with a tsk, but sink down on his length all the same — making both of you gasp and moan in unison.

Marcus’s eyes flutter closed with a silent prayer of thanks. His fingers digging into your flesh and for a second, he wishes you were already off your birth control. “Fuuuuuuuuck.” He groans when you roll your hips in a little circle and clench down around him.

“Fuck, you always feel so fucking good.” Letting your head fall back makes it feel like he’s gotten all the way up into your throat and your whole body tightens like a bowstring in response.

“That’s because you’re so perfect.” He groans in appreciation, rocking his hips up. “Tightest little cunt I’ve ever fucked.” He flashes a grin and twitches inside you. “Last little cunt I’ll ever fuck too.”

"All yours." As many times as you promise him that, it never diminishes how much you mean it. He has your whole heart for your whole life. "All yours and you're all mine and fuck you have the best cock in the world."

He chuckles, proud of your happiness with his abilities. His hand slides up your neck to cup the back of your head as he drags you down for a kiss.

The rhythm you set is quick but thorough, making sure to rise and fall on every inch of him to swallow his moans in equally thorough kisses.

He loves when you ride him. Your tits bounce and your kisses are greedy, leaving him to touch you how he wants to while you use his cock for your pleasure. “Fuck, baby.” He grunts, twitching when you swivel your hips.

The figure eights you draw in his lap are his favorite. They always have been. They're brilliantly drawn out and exaggerated to leave him groaning and greedy, pawing at you as you bounce on him. It's greedy for both of you in different ways, which is probably why this is one of your favorite positions.

“You’re teasing me.” Marcus huffs, lunging up to capture one tit in his mouth and scrape his teeth over your sensitive nipple.

"You — ah! — love when I tease you." And since he's so good at teasing you back, you don't ever hesitate.

Marcus just groans against your breast and slaps your ass playfully. Rocking you harder on his cock as his mouth works your breast.

It’s the hungry kind of sex where you know you’ll be sticky and sweaty and need a shower after. Where you know Marcus is going to leave teeth marks pebbling your skin. Where you know without a shadow of a doubt that you’ll be achy and feeling him in your theater seat tonight. And it’s exactly the right kind of fierceness for both of you, so you amp up your pace and throw your head back, letting the bliss of it all wash over you. Lovemaking is what you’ll do tonight, with moonlight streaming through the windows and soft touches and whispered promises. This is a deeply cathartic and energizing fuck — the perfect way to start your weekend.

“Fuck.” Marcus hisses and his fingers slide down to find your clit. Sensing the urgency to your pace and knowing how badly he wants to see you fall apart for him before he finds his own release.

Your whine of agreement is high from the added touch. His fingertips are calloused, giving you added friction as well as added tension, and every time you roll your hips you get more pressure and friction. It's stunning, the way he drives you toward the edge of that cliff of pleasure, and your head spins from how close you are.

“That’s it baby, you’re so good to me.” Marcus groans, loving how you just give him everything you’ve got. “So pretty on my cock. You gonna cum for me? You know I want to see it. Cum for me, sweetheart.”

"I'm so close baby." So close that you feel like you're about to fall over onto his chest from the way you're tensing up. Every part of you is tense, right down to the way your greedy cunt is clamping down on his cock.

“That’s it, fuck- you’re so tight.” Marcus hisses, watching you as your hips stutter and your shoulders start to shake. “So good baby, want to feel you.”

"Fuck, fuck, oh my god, Marcus!" The freedom to cry out, even though you joked about volume earlier, isn't lost on you. The way you tense and shatter and cry his name is his favourite music in the world.

He can’t help himself. Lunging up, he presses his lips to yours desperately and rolls you over to keep pistoning his hips and drilling into your spasming walls. Working you higher through your orgasm and chasing his own.

It would be a whole different ballgame if you were already off your birth control, but you still want Marcus to cum inside you. There's no better or more indulgent feeling in the world, so you wrap your legs around his waist and shake with the last waves of your own orgasm knowing that it will bring him toward his own.

“I love you, I love you. I love you.” Marcus begins to chant as his hips rock forward desperately, barely pulling back as he feels his body pull tight.

"I love you." Those words never diminish, especially not when he's driving his hips forward to bury his cock deep inside you, coating your walls with his searing hot release.

He whines your name as he rides out the release of every tense bone in his body. Pouring himself into you as he collapses against you. “Fuck.” He huffs, face buried against your neck and panting softly. “Always.” He murmurs, kissing a damp patch of skin over your pulse.

“Always.” A fact which leaves you breathless and tangled up in each other more often than not. Right now you hold him tight, hanging on to a confessional sigh. “I almost wish I was off my birth control already,” you admit quietly.

“Me too.” He chuckles because the two of you seem to always be so in sync about your goals and desires. “But we know that it would be better to keep to our original timeline.”

"It's a nice dream, though." Your fingers run up his shoulder and through his hair, and the softness in your eyes is pure adoration when your eyes meet again. "And I can't wait for it to come true."

“I know.” He smiles softly as he presses his lips to yours. “You know I’m going to be feral over you.” He warns. “Not going to be able to stop touching you.”

"Oh nooo." The laugh in your voice is as joyous as your smile but you toss a tone of sarcasm into your teasing. "That will be terrible. I just hate when my fiancé, the sexiest man in the whole world, wants to fuck me."

“You might hate sex while you are pregnant.” He huffs, knowing he would hate it, but he would never pressure you to sleep with him if you don’t feel like it. From what he can tell, it’s hard work to grow a human.

"I don't think I will." Of course, you can't be sure. But as you stretch your neck to kiss him again you enjoy the image tucked away in your mind. "I think I'm going to melt in your arms every single time like I already do."

“I love you.” The simple words are more vow than statement, completely true and undeniable. Luckily, the nasty rumors have tapered off and you have been able to enjoy the wedding planning so far.

"I love you, too." It doesn't take much surging to kiss him one more time, and then you're grinning all over again. "Now...how do you feel about naked honeymoon planning?"

“Naked anything with you is good for me.” He jokes. “Unless it’s frying bacon.”

"Aprons when we cook." You quote Sydney with a grin. "I think I can walk. I'll grab the notebook from my purse and we can write down the ideas we're serious about?"

“If you can’t, I’ll grab it for you.” He smirks, a little pleased when you are unsteady on your feet climbing out of the bed after he rolls off of you.

"Why don't you grab the ice bucket, baby?" Your purse is much closer to the bed than anything else, so it barely takes you two shaky steps before you're slumping back onto the mattress with a grin.

“Can’t make it, can you?” He chuckles as he stands up and crosses over to the desk where the ice bucket is located.

"Shut up." A playful little huff and a pout comes from the bed as you stick your tongue out at him. So what if you barely made it? You managed to grab your notebook and a pen and that's what matters. "You fucked me so good I can't walk, be nice."

He winks at you. “I fucked you so good you can’t walk because I’m nice.”

"I love you very much, now come and get back in bed," you stick your tongue out again and pick up your pen. "So what are your top choices. Are we doing top three each or top five?"

“I say we do five.” Marcus suggests, grinning as he saunters back over and plops down beside you with the bucket. “And then we use the bucket idea for the next nine anniversaries.”

"That's actually super cute." So much that it earns him a kiss when he comes and sits back down with you. A sheet of paper from your notebook is torn up into ten strips, and you hand him five. "I'm thinking my top five are Paris, Scotland, Napa Valley, New Zealand..." You grin unapologetically. "And Disney."

He shakes his head, faking a disappointed pout. “No naked honeymoon in Disney.” He grumbles. “We would be banned and then our kids would never forgive us.”

“We can still be naked in the hotel,” you remind him, grinning unapologetically as you drop the last destination into the ice bucket.

“Yeah, yeah.” He swats your thigh gently and sighs. “So I need to pick other destinations, right?”

“That’s the idea.” Being done before him lets you lay back in the pillows and idly stir the slips in the ice bucket while he thinks.

“Okay, okay…” he takes the notepad you’ve left on the bed and writes on the first one. “Ireland.” He shoots you a grin. “It’s different from Scotland.”

“Yes, it is.” You smirk at him, wondering if he’s going to pick places near all of yours.

“Let’s see…” He taps his chin. “Ohhhh Bora Bora would be good.” He scribbles it down. “Fruity alcoholic drinks, and tiny bikinis for you the entire time.”

That earns a grin from you, and you lean over to press a kiss to his shoulder. “Tiny bikinis are a favorite vacation theme for you.”

“It’s as close to naked as I can get you.” He huffs. “Unlessssss…” Marcus flashes you a teasing grin. “We go to one of those nudist resorts. Should I write Hedonism II down?”

“You try explaining that to my mother when she asks for vacation photos,” you snort, knowing that that choice would go over like screen doors on a submarine.

“Yeah…no to Hedonism.” He doesn’t write that, but he pretends to and mimes ripping the sheet out and balling it up. “How about Chile?” He asks, tilting his head curiously. “I’ve always wanted to go to the Atacama Desert or Easter Island.”

“Chile would be gorgeous. It’s too bad we couldn’t bring your bike down with us.” The image makes you hum, and your shoot him a grin. Marcus sitting astride his motorcycle in any setting just does things to you. “We’ll have to rent one when we go.”

“Absolutely.” He has rediscovered his love of having a woman on the back of his bike and often will bring you along if you can get away for a quick drive in the evenings.

“So…Ireland, Bora Bora, Chile,” you prompt him, tucking off your fingers. “Two more.”

“Greece.” Marcus decides and sends you a small smirk. “Rome.” He writes them down as well so they can be added to the trip bucket.

“Alright.” Dropping each slip into the ice bucket and stirring it around, you give it a few shakes for good measure before holding it high above either of your sight lines and angling it toward Marcus. “Go ahead. What’s our honeymoons going to be?”

Marcus grins and takes the bucket from your hands. “Let’s not pick now.” He teases. “Why don’t we pick at the end of our vacation?”

“You live to torture me!” You groan dramatically, dropping the ice bucket between you. “Do you really want to wait?”

“You don’t want to?” He teases, leaning in and kissing you playfully. “I guess we can decide now.” He rolls his eyes and picks the bucket up. “You choose. That way you can’t blame me.”

"Blame he says, as though they aren't all great choices." It calls for blowing a raspberry in his general direction, but you dip your hand into the ice bucket high above your head and swirl your fingers around to snag a single slip of paper. "Here we go," you intone dramatically, pulling the slip open and wiggling it around. "Looks like it's going to beeee..." Flipping the paper up, you grin at him. "Scotland!"

Marcus laughs at the glee on your face, knowing he would be happy going anywhere with you. “A stone cottage in the Scottish highlands where we walk the moors and burrow into each other in front of a roaring fire sounds perfect.” He puts on a thick Scottish accent for the dramatic flair.

"We can see the Highlands and the cities and go all over." Actually having a location picked out makes you giggle with excitement, and you lean over to kiss him before practically jumping out of bed. "Just like we can go explore this city right now. With clothes, of course."

“Now she can walk.” Marcus groans, climbing out of the bed after you. “What do you want to do before Ellis Island?”

"We should check what time the ferry runs." The concierge downstairs had given you a few ideas but ultimately you had decided to take the trip out to Ellis and Liberty Islands. It’s an important piece of American history and Agent Bailey won’t admit to it but she’s excited to look up her family from their crossing. "Why don't we grab a quick lunch? Give ourselves back some of the energy that we just burned off?"

“That sounds perfect.” He agrees, unable to resist grabbing a handful of your ass when you bend down to pick up your clothes. “Build up reserves for tonight.”

It's hardly a surprise when you and Marcus end up in a little café halfway between your hotel and the ferry to Ellis Island, ready to feast on French bistro classics for lunch. It's warm in the picturesque little restaurant and the snow is still falling without collecting on the sidewalk, so it's a picture-perfect winter day in the city.

“I think it’s safe to say that I will have to have the French onion soup.” Marcus tells you as he looks over the menu. “At least to start. What about you?”

"I think it's going to be a boeuf bourguignon day," you hum, spotting the item on the lunch menu and salivating over it immediately.

“Would you hate me for hurting Thumper if I had the rabbit cassoulet for the main?” He’s grinning and shrugging slightly.

"Not if you won't hate me for having cute little escargot for my first course." The one time he had expressed finding snails cute had obviously stuck with you, and since they're one of your favorite gourmet treats, it's a fair trade.

He huffs in feigned offense and sighs dramatically. “I suppose.” He jokes. “It’s only fair and I know it makes you happy.”

"What do you want to see first at the MET tomorrow?" The café is buzzing around you but you're happy in your little bubble. Just you and Marcus, cuddled together and happily plotting out the rest of your day.

“I’m not picky?” Marcus asks, playing with your fingers. “But Lady with a Parot and Perseus.” He rattles off with a guilty grin.

"Not picky, but two very specific choices." You grin at him, charmed all over again by the beauty and relaxation of the day. Agent Bailey is enjoying herself at a table across the café, also doing her best to relax despite being in the busy city. "Okay, you're on. And I want to track down Madame X."

“The American Wing.” Marcus instantly replies.

"That's my man." Of course he knows, that doesn't surprise you at all.

What does surprise you is the woman walking behind the hostess, currently approaching your table to be seated right next to you. "Vanessa?" Of all the gin joints in all the world, you think ruefully, but it's been so long since you heard from either her or Sam that you're just sort of shell shocked to see her instead of upset or angry about it.

Marcus turns to see the ex that he had hoped to never run into again - even more than Teresa - and wonders what the hell is about to happen. He warily glances behind her and around the smaller café. “This is a surprise.” He intones dryly.

“Just a coincidence.” Vanessa promises. She thanks the hostess and takes a seat, though she wishes there was literally any other table left. “I’m just having a bite after class. Forget I’m here.”

“Class?” That catches Marcus’s attention and he glances over at you to make sure that you are comfortable continuing the conversation. He feels like if there’s a change in the dynamic of your foes, you should learn all you can.

You nod subtly, but Vanessa doesn’t catch it. She’s thanking the waitress for her water. “Class,” she confirms when the waitress is gone. “I’m getting my master’s. I—” she looks between you, her former foes, and shrugs slightly. “A lot has changed.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” There’s no pressure to be applied, but it’s an offer. An olive branch, just like the one extended at the engagement party.

That’s a bit of a sticky question, but Vanessa nods. Her own is far less subtle than yours, as it’s meant to be seen. “I left Sam,” she begins, feeling that that is the most important news. “He was…he was getting out of control. There was never going to be an end to it as long as he had people on his side.”

Marcus squeezes your hand gently, the confirmation of it being on purpose was right there between the lines. “I’m sorry.” He murmurs quietly. “When you said you had discovered your soulmate, it was Sam, wasn’t it?”

“It was.” Vanessa confirms. There’s no reason to beat around the bush after everything that’s happened. “He’s just…he’s not the man he was when I first fell in love with him. Not anymore.”

“Vanessa….” Marcus sighs softly. “What was the root of the issue? We didn’t cheat. Why was Sam so obsessed with hurting us?” He phrases it that way so she doesn’t feel like he’s attacking her, and because he honestly never really imagined Vanessa being the ringleader. Now it seems as if she was a hopeless idealist, blindly following her soulmate down the wrong path.

She sighs, biting her lip slightly, and looking between you both with regret shining in her eyes. "Birdie was supposed to be his ticket to the White House," she admits, although the confession isn't hers to make. "When Marcus appeared on the scene he started getting paranoid, and then...then when you broke up with him? He seemed like he was just taking it a little too hard in the beginning but he started to go down a dark path pretty quickly."

“Did he hurt you?” Marcus’s voice gets soft, his jaw tense at the idea of violence perpetrated against any woman, even one who has wronged him. “Or made threats against Birdie we should know about?”

"No. No, he never would have had the resolve to hurt me physically. And the only threats he made never worked out." Vanessa assures him. "The worst founded one was the engagement party. Whatever you two and your social media team did to get ahead of that, well done."

“You went along with it because he’s your soulmate?” Marcus guesses. “The rumors and the whispers that were being fed from somewhere?”

"I can't exactly defend myself." Vanessa twists in her chair to face you fully, so this conversation can be quiet. "I was jealous."

"Of me...for being with the man you were in love with." You finish her thought without effort, understanding the instinct fully but from the opposite direction. "I was jealous of you. When you were with Marcus. We just...we had things switched around, I guess."

Marcus frowns, never realizing that she had been so involved with her feelings in the brief relationship. “I thought…you were waiting for your soulmate and just having fun with me?”

"I was trying to get over Sam." This is bound to be an uncomfortable conversation of confessions for Vanessa, but she is going to tell the truth. "In a sense you were a rebound for a relationship I never had. And when I realized who my soulmate was I thought everything was finally going to work out the way I wanted. But...that was even more wrong than I ever could have guessed."

“I’m sorry.” Marcus murmurs softly. “I hope that one day, you find the love and happiness you have been searching for.”

"I think I have to love myself first." Vanessa shrugs her shoulders and laughs. "I know that sounds cheesy, but...I started seeing a therapist and I got myself into grad school, and taking control of my own life has been really good for me."

“That’s great.” Marcus assures her, squeezing your hand again and glancing at you. “I can tell you that therapy will be good for you. Doesn’t matter what you’re going through. Sometimes it’s good to just learn how to cope with life.”

"I'm doing my best." Marcus has always been a kind man. It's good to know that that is just who he is, and that Vanessa hadn't been so blinded to people's good natures as to have misjudged him at any point. "I really want to apologize to both of you. Some of the things we did...that I did for him...were truly despicable. If I could take it all back, I would."

It’s not his place to accept an apology, especially when most of the attacks were focused on you. He squeezes your hand again, and defers to you.

"I wish we could have made amends sooner." You tell her, gently squeezing Marcus's hand in return. "But I'm glad that things are looking up for you, Vanessa. And I hope they continue to go in a positive direction. Nobody deserves to be defined by their mistakes when they're trying to better themselves."

It’s a gracious acceptance of the offered apology and so on point for who you are that Marcus wants to kiss you. “I completely agree.” He adds. “You focus on yourself and things will work out for the best.”

"That's very kind of both of you." And probably more than she deserves, but Vanessa isn't going to split hairs when she's stumbled into the chance to move forward. "And very diplomatic. It's...it's very easy to see, from the outside, why you're such a beloved couple." A fact which had made you both difficult to tear down, and is probably why Sam failed so entirely.

“We had some not so diplomatic moments.” Marcus admits, feeling that she is owed some truth as well. “But we aren’t going to punish you for mistakes that you are owning up to and trying to rectify.”

"Thank you." Vanessa half-smiles, looking around the small café, and makes the decision for herself with a small feeling of relief letting her shoulders relax for the first time in longer than she cares to admit. "I should let you enjoy your lunch," she says after a pause, and she stands. "It...was good to run into you. To clear the air."

“Good luck.” He won’t ask her to stay and continue the conversation and neither will you, but he wishes her well as she gathers her things.

"That was...unexpected." You murmur, watching Vanessa cross the street outside quickly, and duck into a pub instead of the little café you're still sitting in.

“Yeah.” Marcus blows out a breath and picks up your other hand. “How do you feel about it?”

"Weirdly...good?" It feels awful to admit, but getting an apology from someone who was actively trying to ruin your life not so long ago feels incredibly settling. "Or at least it feels validating. To know that we weren't crazy in thinking that Sam really was trying to hurt us so actively." It also feels awful to know that you were right about your ex not caring about you during your entire relationship, but that is a separate issue.

He sees the frown and he brings your hands up to kiss them gently. “At least we know now. You know.”

“Knowing is good.” You can agree to that, even as downtrodden as you feel right now. You got out of the relationship, found your soulmate, and are getting married. Everything is falling into place in the best way possible. But the sticky, icky, despicable sensation in your chest at being used isn’t exactly nice. “It still doesn’t feel good, though.”

“No it doesn’t.” He knows that feeling in a sense. Looking back at things objectively, it seemed like Teresa used him to prod Jane along, to pull his buried feelings out of him. “Do you want to go back to the hotel?” He asks softly, hating how your shoulders are rounded and your voice has dipped down.

“No.” This awful feeling will pass, you’ll regain your good humor, and this weekend won’t be ruined by a chance encounter in a restaurant. You won’t let it happen. “Let’s enjoy our lunch.”

He wants to ask if you’re sure, but he doesn’t. Giving you a reassuring smile, he glances towards the waiter. “How about a glass of wine?”

Determined to smile and to not be upset over a relationship that you ended willingly to begin with, you sit up your seat, roll your shoulders back, and turn your eyes back to Marcus. “Something bubbly, I think? We’re on vacation, after all.”

He smiles and nods. “I think that is completely appropriate. And it looks like they have a nice champagne on the menu.”

“Perfect.” You squeeze Marcus’s hand gently, thanking him for sticking with you through the tidal waves of clashing emotions you’re dealing with.

“Not nearly as perfect as you are.” There’s an odd sense of relief to have that chapter firmly closed, at least on Vanessa’s end. “Hopefully nothing else will happen.”

“Fingers crossed.” Huffing a soft laugh, you just shrug your shoulders and get in with ordering your lunch. It does no good to dwell and ruin the time away you have with Marcus. No good at all.

Panting, Marcus stares at the ceiling, nearly giggling at the bubbly, blissed out exhaustion that settles in the very marrow of his body. “Good girl.” He praises. “Good fucking girl.” Your own body is collapsed in a spent heap and he trails his fingers over your spine as you come down from the last, most intense orgasm of the night.

A matching giggle bubbles out of you as you curl into his side, utterly spent and gazing up at him with moony eyes. “Baby…” you laugh again, and half-turn toward him lamely. Your wrists are still bound with the tie he wore out to dinner. “Can I have my hands back?”

“Maybe I like you all bound up for me.” He teases, turning and working on the knots that are now harder than what he had originally tied because of you pulling and tugging on the restraint. Eager to touch him and frustrated by your inability to do so. “Next time I’ll tie you to the bed.”

“We’ll be back in our big four poster at home tomorrow night.” With your hands free, you loop your arms around his neck to kiss him soundly. “I’m already looking forward to it.”

“There’s something about being at home, isn’t there?” He asks, his hand coming up and tenderly caressing your throat where he had held it as he pounded into you. “I wasn’t too rough, was I?”

“Perfect level of rough,” you promise. Experimenting with his more dominant side had turned into a much-loved habit over your year together, and though you don’t get rough every single time you have sex it is definitely something you both enjoy.

“Do you need anything, sweetheart?” He asks. “Water, a rag?” Sometimes you like to keep his cum inside you, sometimes you like to clean up right after. And after every rough session, he likes to dote on you.

“I should say water.” Your eyes gleam with mischief. “But do we have any more wine? That bottle we bought in the Village was amazing.”

He smirks at your cheeky response and leans in to bite your bottom lip. “Sure.” He hums before he is climbing off the bed to get the lovely wine the two of you indulged in before your romp.

Tonight is one of those nights that you both indulged in the fantasy of getting pregnant, and lying in bed with a glass of wine with the sticky slick combination of your cum slowly dripping from your pussy sounds like pure indulgence. Plus you stashed Marcus’s Valentine’s gift in the bedside table, so there’s that too. You grab it now and slip it under your pillow, waiting for him to come back.

Pouring two glasses he turns back to admire your sprawled form as he bites his lip. It’s Valentine’s Day and the two of you have completely indulged today. Now, he needs to give you the gift he had picked out months ago.

“What’s that look for?” You hum, grinning back at him when he returns to your side in bed. “Did you suddenly remember how amazingly lucky I am to have you as my soulmate?”

“More like I remember how lucky I am.” He retorts. “I have a wonderful, sexy woman who indulges my desires and matches them.”

“So I guess we’re both lucky, then.” He hands you your glass and you take a sip, glad that you opted for a white wine tonight so you won’t accidentally ruin the sheets if you get playful. “Happy Valentine’s Day, my love.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” He smiles as he leans in to take a kiss from your wine soaked lips. “Have you enjoyed our weekend away?”

“To me it’s been perfect.” There are more kisses for both of you, never able to have enough of tasting or even just being near each other. “Have you enjoyed it too?”

“Hell yes I have.” He promises. “It’s been an incredible weekend, one we needed. No work, just us.”

“I’m just glad we both got through the weekend without any work emergencies.” The inn is in good hands, as Selena has finished her training to become your new manager and she and Malachi are running the place as smoothly as ever between them in your absence.

“Yeah, me too.” He takes a sip of the wine and sighs softly. “Part of me doesn’t want to go back. Just live in the hotel and run away from responsibility.”

“You would miss work pretty soon.” He loves his job, and you know that. It’s a very serious point of pride even though it’s very taxing on him sometimes. “My offer still stands, my love. Whenever you decide to retire from the FBI, you have my full support.”

“I know, and I’m very grateful for your support.” He promises. “It will come eventually, but I’m happy in my career right now and my team is excellent.”

“As long as you’re happy, I’m happy,” you promise him. With Marcus it’s always about support and communication, so having the small check-ins often is key.

“How about you?” He asks. “The inn is becoming even more popular and nearly full every night.”

“It’s nice that we’re not seeing the after affects of the smear campaign anymore.” It seems like the good will from your social media posts surrounding wedding planning has really worked to verse the damage Sam did months ago, and ever since the holidays the inn has been booked solid. “I’ve been thinking about adding an afternoon tea,” you admit, giving him a sheepish look. “Syd’s sous chef is English and French trained and the three of us were thinking about trying out an Italian-inspired tea service for Mother’s Day.”

“Like the tea cakes and sandwiches?” Marcus smirks slightly. “I can see that being a real draw.” He admits. “Older ladies coming in to socialize and then young girls coming in to learn how to take tea. Paninis and cannolis. Cups of tiramisu.”

“Teacups full of individual tiramisu was Syd’s first idea.” It’s sweet to see him get excited and you glow with pride. “I thought it would be nice to give Syd this Mother’s Day off but she came back with a whole new business idea.”

“I think she’s imagining Constance having tea there, with our girls when they are old enough.” Marcus smiles at the thought.

“It’s a beautiful thought.” The dreaminess on his face is obvious, making your heart swell at the promise of growing the family you’re building with this man. Your other half. Your better half. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” He promises softly, his own dreams for the future in his eyes. “I have your present, to show you how much.”

“I thought my roses were my present?” In fact, you and Marcus must have given the hotel staff a good chuckle this weekend, because you both ordered a dozen long stem red roses to the hotel room — addressed to each other — that arrived with your breakfast tray with room service this morning.

He gives you a look, one that tells you that you are being ridiculous and moves to his bag to pull out the lovely wrapped gift he had brought for you.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you laugh, sliding his gift out from under your pillow to hand over to him.

He huffs at you, even as a grin tugs at the corners of his mouth. “You should know that roses were going to be your only Valentine’s Day gift.” He hadn’t been expecting anything, and his eyes soften at the sight of a gift for him.

“They weren’t going to be your only gift either,” you tut. But sitting up together in your hotel bed, naked with glasses of wine and hearts utterly full, seems like the perfect time to exchange gifts. “This looks suspiciously like a jewelry box, Agent Pike.”

“I don’t know what you could possibly mean.” Marcus pleads his innocence, even as he smirks.

“Mmhmm.” Giggling to yourself all over again, you nudge Marcus’s package toward him so you can both open them at the same time.

“I need you to open yours first.” He wants to watch your expression and put it on you if you want.

“Very mysterious.” You eye him but obey, pulling open the ribbon on the little wrapped box and tear away the dark red paper to reveal a silver jewelry box — exactly as you suspected. When you remove the lid, a small gasp of surprise and wide eyes come with an open mouth reaction. “Is this…?” The delicate silver necklace inside has a heart pendant hanging from it in the center, but the back clasp is on display in the box: a lock, not a claw.

“A collar.” Marcus nods, watching you seriously as he picks up the small, ornate key and showing it to you. “We’ve talked about it, teasing about it, but I found this and I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

"Honey, it's beautiful." To the outside observer, the inconspicuous little heart is a sweet token of love from your soulmate. For you and Marcus, it's a next step into the world that you've been exploring together. "I wouldn't have been able to stop thinking about it, either."

“You know you have me, every single part of me, and I have you.” He reaches out and caresses your neck. “This would be between us. Our little secret from the world. My claim on you.”

The little lock on the necklace is meant to be done for you, and you raise your eyes back to Marcus. "Will you do the honors?"

“Do you want to wear my collar, sweetheart?” He asks seriously. “Keeping me close to your heart every day?”

"I really do," you lean across the small expanse to kiss him, just as soft and steadily as the rhythm of your heartbeat. "Even though you're already in my heart every single day. This is just another way to show the whole world."

Marcus hums as you hold out the necklace to him and he carefully unlocks it. “I don’t ever want you to feel like you can’t take it off.” He tells you as he wraps it around your neck and closes the lock to secure it around your neck.

"I know I can always ask you." There are some occasions when it won't be appropriate -- State dinners, your wedding, the fanciest things that you'll do in your lives -- but each and every day of your life the necklace will either go on or off and that means that Marcus will always be with you even when he's away.

Once the necklace is locked around your neck, Marcus leans in and presses his lips to it and your skin gently.

"I feel a bit like I underdid it now," you admit, touching the necklace gently with your fingertips. "But I still hope you like it."

He snorts, not even able to imagine you not putting incredible thought and time into his gift. He picks up the box and shakes it like a kid at Christmas, grinning at you. “Nahhhh, sounds fun.”

"Oh yeah." You snort and wave one hand casually. "I figured Lincoln Logs were the most romantic gift possible."

He laughs and shakes his head as he starts to unwrap the beautiful paper. “Whatever it is, I appreciate you getting me something.” He murmurs. “A lot of women seem to think valentines is only for them.”

"You are the most romantic man on the planet." While he works open the paper you lean back in the pillows and toy with your new necklace. "I couldn't possibly leave you out of the celebration this weekend. That would be awful."

“You would be surprised how often it happens.” He knows you wouldn’t and it makes him appreciate you even more. “Babe….” he freezes when he opens the box and sees the lighter that is nestled into the protective fabric. “Is this— it’s a 1939-45 World War II Trench lighter.” He murmurs, admiring how the patina on the metal is meticulously cared for. “How did you know to get this?”

The awe on his face is enough to tell you that you made the right decision, and you leave a kiss on his cheek with pleasure. "I may have dug in your eBay search history a little," you admit without shame. "Your lighter collection is a point of pride and I know you want to keep growing it."

“I- I love it.” He promises you, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours. “So many of these have been lost or discarded but they all have so many stories ingrained in every flick of the flint.”

"The shop I got it from had a little history of previous owners." The handwritten card is tucked inside the lid of the cigar box, and you nudge Marcus to keep going. "You have to keep unwrapping, though."

“There’s more?” He huffs, rolling his eyes playfully and carefully setting the lighter aside to pull out a box of cigars. “Very nice.”

His smile makes you glow, so happy to see him accepting these shows of love and tokens of affection. "Now that you have a porch to sit out on at night, I thought you should be able to enjoy an indulgence you couldn't have while living in an apartment or the inn."

“That is as long as you don’t hate the smell.” He eyes you, even as he opens the box and pulls out a cigar to smell, groaning at the aroma.

"I called your dad to make sure I got the ones you and he smoke when we're in Texas," you admit. "So I already know I like the smell of these."

“Good.” He chuckles quietly and kisses you again. “You’re perfect, you know that?” He asks. “The universe couldn’t have chosen better.”

"I was just thinking the same about you." Nudging his nose with yours brings a smile to both of your faces. The perfectly contented kind of smile that is somehow both enraptured and at peace all at once. "So I'm very glad we agree."

“That’s why we are soulmates.” He reasons, giddy to be celebrating the holiday with his soulmate, his fiancée and the woman he will spend the rest of his life with.

______

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 @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

My Masterlist!

[dathen]

Normally you’d know that any character that hurts a cat goes on my shitlist to never return, but the Griffin testing the invisibility experiment on one has so many tiny character details that it honestly fascinates me.

The flaw that undermines Griffin the most is that he is practically incapable of parsing simple cause and effect, and that he never manages to think ahead.

When he’s experimenting on the cat and it makes a lot of noise, he doesn’t comprehend that it’s because it’s in pain, because he then immediately uses that process on himself and is shocked at how agonizing it is. He’s no Sydney Atherton out to torture and kill a cat for his own sick amusement, he’s not even Jack Seward insisting that vivisection is necessary because it’s medically useful—he’s just seeing if his process works on a living creature immediately before using it on himself. He didn’t even realize he’d hurt the cat until he was in the throes of agony.

And then a more down-to-earth detail that re-emphasizes this: the cat was hungry, so he gave it some milk. He tried to give it more milk later when it was upset, only to find all his food was gone. Not only does it paint more of the picture of what a stripped-bare life he lived, this unfurnished room stuffed with scientific apparatus and a bed he rarely uses—but how he can’t even piece together “give the cat the last of my food = I now have no food left.”

This contextualizes SO MUCH of his behavior up to this point, both the comical and the grim. Steals from his father without thinking about what his father will do without the money. Commits a burglary and immediately tells his landlady he can pay her now, is surprised when they suspect him of the burglary. Escapes arrest by stripping and then is left starving and naked without shelter. It’s a domino effect that not only chauses chaos and pain wherever he goes, but is a constant source of his own suffering.

[ateez-ana]

treasure film days

For those who have not seen the treasure film, the boys had to do individual challenges and group challenges to "find" the treasure

pt1 the challenge

The air crackled with nervous energy as the Ateez members gathered around a table in their Sydney hotel room. They had just received their 'Treasure Film' challenge sheets, a colorful array of tasks designed to test their courage, resourcefulness, and, of course, their comedic timing. It was their first time filming in Australia, and the vibrant energy of the city was infectious.

Ana, scanned the sheet, her brows furrowing. The tasks were a mix of daring and ridiculous, each matched to their individual personalities. San had to swim with sharks , Wooyoung had to ask a friend of her mom to give him food , and Mingi had to order some things in a pharmacy all by himself Ana’s eyes settled on hers: 'Skydive and take a selfie.'

Ana glanced at Hongjoong, their leader, who was carefully studying his own challenge, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He knew about her fear of heights, “Ana,” Hongjoong whispered, his voice laced with amusement, “You okay?” Ana swallowed, forcing a smile. “Just… thinking about it.” “I bet you’re going to be great,” he said, his voice laced with a reassuring confidence that calmed her a little.

A couple of hours later, the group gathered at the airfield, their nervous laughter echoing in the vast, open space. Hongjoong stood nearby, a watchful observer, a small smile playing on his lips as the cameramen began their preparations.

Ana sat at the edge of the runway, her heart pounding like a drum solo. The skydivers, clad in bright orange jumpsuits, seemed calm and collected, though their faces seemed to radiate a strange kind of madness.

“Ready, Ana?” the cameraman asked, his voice a little too chipper for the situation.

Ana’s knees trembled.

One by one, the skydivers climbed into the plane, their faces a mix of excitement and apprehension. When it was Ana’s turn, Hongjoong approached, his hand on her shoulder, his eyes twinkling.

“You got this,” he whispered, a reassuring squeeze before he stepped back.

Ana took a shaky breath as she climbed the ladder of the small plane, the cold wind whipping through her hair. The world shrunk beneath her as the plane ascended, the vast expanse of the land becoming a patchwork of greens and browns. Her stomach tightened, fear tightening its grip on her. This was crazy.

The wind hummed through the plane windows, and Ana, with her pale face and wet eyes, clung with all her might to the edges of the seat. Her heart was pounding like a maddened buffalo in her chest.

'Ana, are you ready?' The instructor's voice, a burly man with a smile too cheerful for the situation, echoed through the noise of the plane.

'No, no, no,' Ana let out a sob. 'Why are you doing me this? I pay you, I give you everything you want, but please don't make me jump. I'm not cut out for this kind of thing.'

'Don't worry, Ana. It's an incredible experience. Look at the view!' The instructor pushed her toward the open door of the plane.

Ana clung to the door for dear life, looking down in horror. The ground stretched like an endless chess board. Her stomach clenched as she saw the distance, and her legs began to tremble.

'I can't, I can't, I can't,' Ana whispered, tears threatening to overflow.

'What's wrong, Ana?' the instructor asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

'I'm afraid of heights,' Ana said, her voice shaking. 'I'm afraid of dying. I'm afraid of everything.'

'Don't worry, Ana. I'll be with you all the time. Come on, just a little jump!' The instructor pushed her lightly into the void.

'No! No! No!' Ana screamed, clinging to the instructor with a force that would have probably broken her bones.

'Ana, relax! It's just a jump!' The instructor, feeling a little uncomfortable with Ana's iron grip, tactfully tried to free himself from her. 'Besides, if you get off now, you can tell all your fans later,' he said with a wry smile.

Ana froze. His fans! The thought of the shame she would feel if her fans found out about her fear of heights filled her with a new terror, a terror even more intense than the fear of falling.

'It's okay,' Ana said, taking a deep breath. 'I'm going to do it, but… can you hold me tight and not let me fall?'

The instructor looked at her with a wry smile. 'Of course, Ana. I'm going to hold you very tight. Get ready for the adventure of your life!'

And with that, Ana, holding on to the instructor like a koala to a tree, launched herself into the void, screaming like a little girl. The wind whipped her face and the sound of her own scream echoed in her ears. Fear paralyzed her, but despite the terror, a small thought floated into her mind: at least her fear of heights would be a great story to tell her fans.

Ana took out her phone, her hands still trembling. She focused her lens on the breathtaking panorama and pressed the button, capturing the moment, the feeling of being alive, free, and conquering her fear. She had done it.

Back on the ground, she was greeted by laughter and cheers. The crew, the cameraman, the other Ateez members - even the skydiver who jumped with her – all seemed to be in on the joke, their faces lit by amusement.

“Ana!” Mingi cried, doubling over as he choked back a laugh. “Your face was priceless! Do you even realize how funny you were while falling?”

Even San, managed a chuckle, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I knew you could do it, Uno,” he said, using his nickname for her.

Hongjoong just smiled, his eyes warmly admiring.

pt2

The air crackled with anticipation as Ana, Hongjoong, Yeosang, and Wooyoung stood in line at the concession stand, the smell of buttery popcorn and sugary soda filling their senses. This wasn't just any movie night; it was a challenge orchestrated by Hongjoong himself. He was dared to watch an entire English-language film without subtitles, a feat that seemed impossible considering his infamous sleepiness.

'I'm going to have to rely on the power of sheer will,' Hongjoong declared, his voice laced with a hint of nervousness as he surveyed the massive popcorn buckets. 'And this glorious sugary fuel.'

Wooyoung, ever the playful instigator, nudged him playfully. 'Don't worry, hyung. We'll all be your personal translators, even if they're just mumbled whispers in your ear.'

Yeosang, on the other hand, was surprisingly invested. He leaned towards the counter, his eyes scanning the menu with an almost academic curiosity. 'What kind of film did you choose, Hongjoong?'

'A classic,' Hongjoong said with a dramatic flourish. 'One that will truly test my limits.' He winked, 'Just wait till you see the trailer.'

The popcorn, a mountain of fluffy goodness, arrived, and they settled into their plush seats in the darkened theater. The crew had rented the entire space for their little experiment, a decision that felt both luxurious and strangely isolating. The lights dimmed, the opening credits rolled, and the story began to unfold.

The first few minutes were a blur of unfamiliar dialogues and foreign accents. Yet, Hongjoong, driven by his own challenge and an intrinsic need to prove himself, clung onto every spoken word, every dramatic inflection.

As the movie progressed, however, fatigue began to set in. His eyelids grew heavy, his head bobbing forward in an act of defiance against sleep. Around him, his friends succumbed one by one. Yeosang, with his usual quiet dignity, leaned against Wooyoung’s shoulder, his head resting against the soft fabric of his hoodie. Wooyoung, barely able to keep his eyes open, surrendered completely, his head drooping against the seatback, a slight snore escaping through his parted lips.

Ana, who had always been a light sleeper, managed to stay awake for a surprisingly long time, occasionally turning to Hongjoong with a concerned frown. But eventually, she too succumbed to sleep, softly snuggling up to Wooyoung, finding comfort in his warmth.

The rest of the film moved at a snail’s pace. Hongjoong, alone in a sea of slumbering faces, felt a mix of annoyance and pride. He’d lost count of how many times he’d had to fight the urge to close his eyes, to succumb to the comforting embrace of sleep. It was a mental battle, a testament to his determination. As the last image faded and the credits rolled, he finally let his head droop, defeated by the unrelenting fatigue.

He looked around at his friends, their faces peaceful in sleep. A gentle smile played on his lips as he observed Ana, curled up against Wooyoung like a sleepy kitten, Yeosang, comfortably slumped against Wooyoung’s side, and Wooyoung, fast asleep with a soft, rhythmic snore.

“Always the champions of sleep,” Hongjoong muttered to himself, his voice barely a whisper. He knew that his friends would feel a pang of embarrassment once they woke up

pt3

Ana stared at the camera, perched precariously on a stack of books on San's desk. It was supposed to be a simple 'good morning' message for Atinys, but the simple act of greeting their fans seemed to be turning into a comedy show starring only Ana.

'Good morning, Atinys!' she started, her voice bright and bubbly. 'It’s a beautiful day outside...' She glanced at the window, a thin sheet of rain lashing against the glass. 'Okay, maybe not a *beautiful* day, but it's a day nonetheless!'

The camera caught the faintest twitch of San’s eyebrow as he sat on his bed, his headphones on, completely engrossed in his phone. San was good about respecting her space, mostly. But this lack of interaction was a little... unnerving. Especially when she could feel his eyes on her every few seconds.

'Anyways,' she carried on, 'I hope you all have a wonderful day, full of sunshine and... and... well, I don’t know, anything you enjoy? I’m still trying to find my own sunshine.'

She sighed dramatically, leaning on her hand. This felt less like a greeting and more like a therapy session.

“Oh, and remember to eat breakfast, and drink lots of water,' she continued, suddenly serious. 'And if you’re feeling down, just remember… you’re not alone.”

She paused for a beat, then added with a mischievous grin, “Not literally, but you know what I mean.”

San finally looked up from his phone, a barely-there smirk playing on his lips.

Ana, emboldened by his amusement, decided to up the ante.

“Speaking of feeling down,” she said, gazing directly into the camera, “I’m feeling a little… under the weather.” She let out a dramatic cough, followed by a cough so fake even a five-year-old would know it was staged.

San, unfortunately, was not a five-year-old. He snorted, a sound that was half-suppressed laughter, half-choked disbelief.

“Why are you so… theatrical?” he grumbled, still staring at his phone but a hint of a smile creeping onto his face.

Ana pretended not to hear him, continuing with her performance. She coughed again, with theatrical flair, then leaned forward like she was about to reveal a shocking secret.

“Actually,” she whispered, her voice dropping to a dramatic whisper, “I think I’ve caught… the San-flu.”

San finally broke, throwing his head back and laughing. He was truly laughing, his shoulders shaking, a joyous sound that echoed through the room.

'I think you need to teach me some of your acting skills,' he said, his voice still tinged with amusement.

“I already did,” Ana replied, tilting her head with mock solemnity. 'That’s why you're always so dramatic.”

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

'San, do you think this is cute?' She showed him the recording, a grimace plastered on her face.

San burst out laughing. 'No offense, Ana, but that was, well, how do I say this politely… not quite 'cute'?' he chuckled. 'More like 'caffeine-deprived-zombie-trying-to-awaken-a-sleeping-giant'.'

Ana groaned. 'This is hopeless.'

'Don't say that!' San encouraged, his eyes sparkling. 'Look, just be yourself, alright? We love you, cringy moments and all. Just imagine you're talking to your friends.'

Ana contemplated his advice. 'Okay, maybe I can do this.'

Taking a deep breath, she began recording again. 'Good morning, Atiny! It’s Ana,' she started, her voice sounding more natural this time. 'I hope you’re having a great day.' She decided to channel her inner San and added with a chuckle, 'If you’re not, then don’t worry, you’re not alone. We all have those days. And remember, you’re all amazing!'

As she finished the message, her eyes darted to the clock. Only ten minutes left until the group message deadline! She quickly moved on to the next part, trying to think of something cute and memorable.

'Okay, how about this…' she muttered to herself, placing a hand on her cheek, pretending to be shy. 'Good morning, Atiny! Today is going to be amazing, just like you!'

A loud, snorting cough from the living room made her jump. She peeked through the door to see San clutching his stomach, tears streaming down his face.

'What?' Ana asked, bewildered.

“You're… you're channeling your inner-Mingi, dude!' San said between fits of laughter. 'Your facial expressions are priceless!'

Ana’s cheeks flushed red. 'Oh, no, I can't be caught dead trying to do a Mingi.'

San managed to compose himself, wiping his tears with a sleeve. “Okay, okay, how about this? Go for a simple, classic good morning. And maybe, just maybe… try a dance move? A little something for the fans.”

Desperate for a solution, Ana grabbed her phone and started scrolling through videos on TikTok.

'Oh! I got it!' she exclaimed, her eyes alight with an idea.

The camera started recording and she threw her hands in the air, mimicking a classic K-Pop move. But as she tried to execute the motion, her feet got tangled, and she stumbled, landing flat on the carpet.

A wave of laughter erupted from the living room. 'Ana!' San's voice rang out. 'Don't worry, I'm fine!' Ana called back, scrambling to her feet. “Just a little, uh, choreography malfunction.”

She decided to play it cool and finish the message, flashing a strained smile at the camera. “Okay, Atiny, I hope you have a wonderful day. See you soon, and always remember… you're all amazing!'

She uploaded the message and hurried to the living room, where the rest of ATEEZ were gathered, their faces a mix of amusement and concern.'You alright, Ana?' Yunho asked, his eyes filled with concern.'Yeah, just a few bumps in the road,' Ana replied, flashing a smile. 'But hey, at least it made San laugh.”San, wiping away a tear, nodded. 'Indeed. You know, Ana, for a girl who’s absolutely terrified of being cute… you’re a natural comedic genius.'

[heavenbarnes]

I’m no good on my own

Sydney Adamu x female reader

Warnings/contains: swearing, mentions of knives, syd is still an awkward-munch, dirty talk, praise kink, oral sex, fingering, syd is gentle when you cum, defiling carmy’s desk, blasphemy

Part one: Already better for knowing you

I’m so glad everyone wants to fuck Sydney as much as I do, means I get to write stuff like this. Maybe one day I won’t write her as an awkward-munch but today is not that day

Yeah, completely fucked.

Sydney is a good chef, a great chef even. She’s calm and methodical, balanced and driven. She’d even pride herself in her ability to teach.

But that was before the greatest challenge of her career.

You.

Carmy had been right to have that smarmy little grin on his face when he wished her luck with training her new little sous chef.

This was fucking torture.

If Sydney was good teacher, you were an even better student. Bright-eyed and attentive, eager and willing.

She could almost always find you right on her shoulder, watching her hands as they shifted around the kitchen bench. It was like a warm glow of sunlight, prickling over her skin and making the hairs on her arms stand up.

It should’ve been what she wanted. It shouldn’t be an issue. An attentive sous who followed her every word and was so quick to please?

To Sydney, that was nearly lethal.

“And that’s what it should look like plated.” Syd ran the corner of her cloth along the rim of the plate, sliding it in front of you.

Eagerly pulling the plate closer, you leant in to savour the aroma permeating from the dish. “God, Sydney.”

The way you spoke on the exhale, like her name was a sigh that you’d been holding in all day. It made her stand up straighter, the tips of her ears running hot.

Taking a spoon from the basket, you managed to scoop the perfect bite on your first go. Sydney braced for impact, the sounds and face you’d make when you tried her food.

Lips closing around the spoon, eyes shutting gently as you let all flavours roll across your tongue. Your eyes fluttered open as you swallowed the mouthful, immediately meeting Syd’s expectant gaze.

“I haven’t taste something this good since the institute days,” You hummed, corner of your mouth turning up. “Since you last cooked for me.”

Sydney couldn’t believe this was happening, that you were standing in the dingy little kitchen of her even dingier apartment.

It wasn’t as if you cared what her home looked like, you just looked so damn pleased to be there. You looked even happier as you glanced over at the pan she was handling.

“I don’t know why the rest of us try when there’s you, Syd.” You remarked over the lip of your glass.

She hadn’t let you lift a finger, even pouring your drink for you whilst she made you park up at the counter. You watched the way her cheeks rose gently at your comment before she straightened up.

“It’s not a competition you know?” Sydney snorted as she took the pan off the heat. “Besides, you’re a fantastic chef.”

It was your turn to feel a pit of shyness in your stomach, not all that common for you but coming from Sydney- that was something else.

By the time she’d plated up your meal, your mouth was borderline watering. Her whole apartment had filled with the scent and seeing it before you was enough to set your teeth on edge.

“Well, tell me what you think.”

She leaned on the counter in front of you, elbows propped up to rest her chin in her hands. She hadn’t even thought to fix herself a plate, as if her whole reason for cooking had been you.

And it had been.

As you ran the fork through the food, Sydney didn’t miss the way you’d managed to heap almost all the best parts of the dish. Bringing the fork to your bottom lip, you pressed against it gently to test the heat.

Eyes fixed straight on Syd’s, you took the bite and let it consume you. Heat rising in your chest and swelling throughout your whole body. She cooked like the act had been invented for her.

You didn’t mean to moan, honestly. You’d always thought it was a little weird when people did that but it was an honest autonomous response to the food.

“Jesus, Syd,” You tried your best to politely cover your mouth as you spoke. “I’ve never had anything like this before.”

And you hadn’t since. Not until that moment, not until it was as if you were back in your institute days and Sydney was pretending to know less than she did just as an excuse to talk to you longer.

“Do you remember when I asked you how to fillet a fish? I’d come to you with a bandaged finger and an apron covered in scales.”

Sydney had no idea why she’d said it, why she’d even spoken the memory into existence. The moment she saw your face light up, the sound of your laugh- she realised why.

“As if thee Sydney Adamu couldn’t fillet a fucking fish.” Your eyes crinkled in the corners as you relived the moment. “I ran the knife long enough for you to freak out and take over.”

Thinking back on the memory, Syd hadn’t even realised that you’d seen right through her. That’s how away with it she was. “You knew? Why didn’t you say anything?”

You couldn’t stop laughing and Sydney couldn’t stop drawing that sound out of you.

“And give up the opportunity to have you at my station? I don’t think so!”

Her heart was going to stop. Her heart was going to stop and you were going to have to give her CPR and maybe this would be a cute story for the grandkids one day but right now it was mortifying.

The mortifying ordeal of being known.

“You-“

“Wanted you as much as you wanted you? I thought I’d made that blindingly obvious?”

Could you imagine what would happen if Sydney got out of her own way?

It might look a lot like this, her moving stacks of paper off Carmy’s desk so she could sit you down on the edge of it. Her lips pressed so gently against yours, tongue just and only breaching your mouth.

“Syd,” You whined against her, hands reaching out for her hips. “I’m not going to break.”

Translates into, kiss me like you fucking mean it. With a please tacked on the end, she knows you well.

Slotting between your thighs, Syd pulled you in closer and finally allowed herself to have what she’d always wanted. Her teeth nipped at the flesh of your bottom lip, tongue forcing its way against yours.

It earned her a moan straight into her mouth, your fingers reaching under her chefs whites to press against her stomach. The heat of your hands on her bare skin nearly turned her inside out.

Sydney moved her own hands under your shirt, fingers reaching for the button of your trousers. One hand reaching for the side of her neck, the other sliding further up her chest, you lifted your hips to give her more access.

Still swilling around in her own head, Syd took your sudden movement to heart. “Are you okay? Did you want me to stop?”

Your eyes caught hers, pulling her face down a little more, bringing your lips millimetres from her own. “Sydney.”

“Y-yeah?”

One kiss. Firm, tongue pushing her mouth open and swiping along her lower teeth.

Another kiss. Hand moving up her to cup her chest, the other tightening behind her neck.

One more for good measure. Hips bucking into hers, rolling along the seam of her trousers.

“If I want you to stop, you’ll know.” Matter of fact, no questions asked. “Right now, I want you to fuck me.”

Sydney was good at doing what she was told, immediately dropping to her knees with a firm grip on the waistband of your pants.

They hung off one ankle, your other leg slung off her shoulders as she dragged you down the desk a little further. You felt paper shift underneath you as you leaned back on an elbow.

“Carmy will kill us if he finds out.” You snorted a laugh as you ran a soft hand across Syd’s face.

You saw her eyebrows raise, quick comment before her face disappeared between your thighs. “He’ll live.”

She stole another laugh out of you, replacing it with a gasped breath as you felt her tongue running up the seam of you.

Your hips immediately lifted towards her face, hand wrapping around the back her head to pull her even closer. Sydney was more than accepting, lips pursing around your clit as her tongue got to work.

Eyes rolling back, head dropping back between your shoulders as her mouth worked absolute magic. The sounds she drew from you were more than debauched.

“Fucking hell, Syd-“

She cut you off as her lips closed in, suckling against the sensitive bud as your hips picked up a steady rhythm rolling against her mouth.

Those skilled hands, the ones you’d spent days watching were now wrapped tightly around your thighs, pulling them to close around her head.

Sydney was trying to forget where you began and she ended.

You felt movement, like she was shuffling. Tilting your head, you caught a glimpse of how she was knelt, finding that she’d sat herself on the heel of her foot.

Sydney was getting herself off on the taste of you.

Your stomach was doing fucking flips, the fireworks that’d start off when you tasted a meal of hers were dialled up to 11.

You’d never had anything like this before.

The way your hips were grinding down, the heady moans and whines that were filling the tiny office, the firm grip on the edge of the desk. You took your hand off Syd’s head and closed it over one of her hands.

She released your thigh to intertwine her fingers with yours, palms pressed tight together as her tongue ran down to your entrance to breach inside.

Your back arched up, papers crinkling beneath you as you writhed under her touch. “Syd- you’re gonna’ make me cum.”

All of a sudden, everything was gone. Her hot mouth against your core disappeared. Her hands on you faded into nothing.

Just as you felt tears of frustration pricking your eyes, mouth dropping open to ask just what the fuck she thought she was doing- when everything went speeding back to life.

Two skilled fingers, skill you’d known for a very long time (just never like this) suddenly ran along the split of you.

Gathering wetness as she went, Sydney immediately slipped inside of you and crooked her fingertips up until they were right on that spot behind your mound.

Your hands flew up to grip the fabric of her whites, pulling her in until your lips were pressed back against hers.

You could taste yourself, hot and raw against your own tongue as Sydney worked her fingers into you. Hearing her mumble against your mouth, you pulled back to listen.

“I want to feel it- want to feel you when you cum.”

Rolling your hips into her hand, you gripped onto her tight as you buried your face in the crook of her neck. Your teeth gently nipped at the skin of her throat as she pressed the heel of her hand to your clit.

Your stomach was coiling tight, the added pressure was driving you straight to edge in screaming colour.

Over the sound of your blood rushing in your ears, you could hear the gentle little coos from Sydney, lips ghosting over the shell of your ear.

“Just like that.”

“There you go, sweet girl.”

“You’re doing so good for me.”

And that was enough.

From the moment you were paired together in the institute, just once- once was enough. All you’d ever wanted to hear from that point onwards was praise, Syd’s praise.

Your face firmly pressed into the crook of her shoulder, cunt clenching tight around Sydney’s fingers as you felt your orgasm pulling you under.

Fingers still working you through the waves, her other arm wrapped around your back and pulled you flush against her.

As your senses started to come back, you could feel her hand gently rubbing between your shoulder blades. Lips pressed to the top of your head as you felt yourself shaking gently against her.

You felt the emptiness of her hand moving from between your legs, eyes opening in time to see her lips close around her two glistening fingers.

There was an unmistakable heat in your cheeks, watching her eyes flutter shut and a groan work its wait out of her chest. For a moment, you knew how she felt when you taste her food.

As you reached out to get your hands on the waistband of her trousers, you felt a hand close around your wrist. Nearly, you could nearly argue but you felt yourself being gently pushed back to your earlier position.

“I wanna feel this one on my face,” Sydney instructed, getting back onto her knees. “I’ve only got 3 years and 8 months to make up for.”

[citrlet]

meet sydney wilder, gen 1 of my new gameplay~

i'm kicking off a new playthrough of the whimsy legacy expanded by @lysiablr , starting at gen 3 just to spice things up!

very long overview and premise of this gens details under the cut if you wanna know what's goin on

premise

Sometimes life brings you a little bundle of joy in the shape of an accident. As soon as you're of age - after whirlwind teenage years of partying, skipping classes, and turning in homework late - you become a mixologist at the local bar.  You are a clumsy Sim who fears the sound of commitment, but loves to have a good time. You enjoy dating new and exciting Sims, but you never, ever commit to anything too serious.  You love your job, and you love that you don’t have to show up for anyone. Period. If you don’t have to show up for anyone, then you can’t disappoint them, right? One morning, after a rough night of partying and a whole lot of bubble blowing and juice, you wake up feeling... off. There's something that just isn't right, and you just can't shake it. You’re tired, you’re feeling ill, and food sounds absolutely revolting.  ... It can't be. But it is. One pregnancy test later, and sure enough, the lines clearly fade into view. You're about to be a parent. After the initial wave of fear, you regain your senses, heart filling with warmth at the idea of no longer being alone. While having children was hardly the first thing on your mind, you can’t say you'd totally ruled out having a few later in life. Turns out later is right now.  But... who is the parent? All at once, you recall the night before, and realize that there are three different possibilities. The catch is, you won’t know the answer for sure until the baby is here. Is that too late? Will you confront your partner when you find out, jump in with them and co-parent, lie and tell a different partner the child is theirs, or will you go it alone?

starting info

Aspiration(s): Serial Romantic [Base Game] Traits:  Clumsy [Base Game] Party Animal [High School Years] Non-Committal [Base Game] Bonus Traits / Lifestyles: Compassionate (For Richer) [Parenthood] Incredibly Friendly (For Richer) [Outdoor Retreat] Uncontrolled Emotions (Or for Poorer) [Parenthood] Beguiling (Or for Poorer) [Base Game] Focused Skills:  Dancing [Get Together] Mixology [Base Game] Juice Fizzing [Eco Lifestyle]

events

Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! (A Man After Midnight) Have your Sim romance at least three different Sims at once, enough to be able to woohoo / try for baby with each. Be careful of jealousy! No getting married or entering into any kind of committed relationships.

Voulez-Vous During the first half of your young adulthood, complete the 'try for baby' interaction with three different Sims in one night. Do not test for pregnancy at all; wait until the next couple of days and see if your Sim experiences any symptoms of pregnancy. If not, do it all over again. If your Sim cannot get pregnant, first check all three partners for pregnancy; if none are pregnant, try again OR randomly select one of your partners to have a science baby with three to seven days after the one-night stand, as if a baby was dropped off at their doorstep by an unknown partner.

When All is Said and Done Choose whether to parent the child alone, confront the correct partner, or approach a different partner to claim that the child was theirs. In the event you choose to confront or approach a partner (regardless of whether they are the correct one), start an argument with them and then play out the scenario from there.

goals

Always have a bright / fun hair color. Change it up frequently!

Have a hobby making juice / nectar.

Name the child after an alcoholic beverage.

Start a fight with who you think is the co-parent or who you have chosen to be the co-parent, then decide to make up or split up based on the reactions.

Obtain as many milestones as possible for your infant.

Live life normally from there, with or without a partner - new or old.

Master the Dancing / Mixology / Juice Fizzing skills.

Complete the Serial Romantic aspiration.

Complete the Mixologist career.

[dollya-robinprotector]

Giggling because I love making post with multiple character tags and then wait for the wrong face to be featured on all the tags ksksksks

This sydney looks soooo sillyyyy

Anw I just thought about my past so story time under the cut.

When I was in secondary school, I once knew a friend who was bullied.

For the context, it was a decent school, with 4 grades, each had 4 classes: A for lower-perform and naughty students, B for normal, C for better than average, and D for the Elites who will most definitely have bright future ahead. We are Asian children, study means EVERYTHING for us. Our worth are defined by how well we perform in school, how many awards we have and how good our grades are.

That friend was in class C. I was in class B. Normally we don't make friends outside of the class, but I once saw him being poured water on in the hallway, defended him and we became friends. Or something like that. Let's call him Z because I forgor his name now.

My parents didn't do well with the fact that I failed my entrance test and was stuck in normal class. They didn't have money to upgrade me to class C either, so they made me study extra hard. Back since I started going to school, I was being teased and harassed a lot too cuz I love to draw (what's the problem of kids being mean to artistic kids btw???). But since I was one of the best performers in study, I soon gained some respect and the soft bully subside. (I was terrible in math, but everything else were straight A okay??)

Z wasn't so lucky. I learned that his grades were terrible eventhough he was in class C. He stuttered a lot, always looks down when talking to people, never dare to engage in any conversation, etc... His appearance did not help, and he had some funny smell when I stood close to him. One thing though, he loved drawing too (urgh artistic kids again) and really admired my skill. The only times he would smile are when we talked about our fav anime. Looking back, I think maybe he had something to do with autism? I can't be sure though, but I know his parents spent a LOT to keep him in that better-than-average-class.

The bully was not too terrible, at least from what I saw and heard. He often got splashed by water, threw dirty rag or left-over food at, made fun of, laughed at, his belongings often went missing and be found somewhere dirty, etc... I used to went through all that too, so I helped him to somehow deal with them. Those sort of soft-physical bully were nothing scary once you got used to them. Just a little annoying. He got used to it too, I think, and we didn't mention those when we talk. I admit I might had some savior complex, and that friendship is not entirely friendly. It was more like I thought he would be helpless without me so I can't leave him alone.

And then one day when I was going home from school, Z approached me and asked if I want to go to his house. He said he has a very big greenhouse, and there were some pretty blooming flowers he wanted to show me. I never saw a greenhouse before and I love flowers, of course I said yes!

We rode our bicycles to his house. I've never been to his house before nor meet his parents. I didn't even ask my mom for permission to go but well, I was excited.

We went for a long time, and I started to realize he was leading me into the forest. I still went with him for maybe half an hour more, before I said I was tired and you didn't tell me your house would be this far. Then I look around and truly there was nothing bu trees surrounded the two of us. He looked back at me, clearly exhausted too, and said nothing. I started to realize the situation I was in: a 12 years old, in a forest, with no directions and a strange friend who I didn't really know. Yeh atm I was pretty scared.

I asked Z again where exactly is his house. He stuttered and said I don't need to worry, we would get there very soon. He said if I was too tired I can hop on his bike and he would get me there. Then he attempted to take my hand but that creeped me out so I stepped away from him. I turned my bike, ignored his calls, and just went as fast as I can toward the direction I thought would lead me out of the woods. He called out to me and began to chase after me too, but gave up after some times.

I then just rode my bike with full speed, somehow got out of the woods into a strange road I didn't know, asked around for direction and got home safe. My mom scolded me for being so damn late and I apologized. I never tell anybody, and never talk to Z ever again. He didn't bother me either. And that's the end of the story.

[ace-of-d1am0nds]

The Bear: Color and Control

obligatory long post warning

The Bear is all about control. Who's in control; how much control does each person have over themselves, each other, and the space.

While we see it in most aspects, the one thing I think demonstrates these power struggles best is color and lighting.

I think most pieces of media are about control and I might just be a pretentious film major so call me out if I'm being incredibly wrong here. But hear me out.

White: the "peace"

I'm not a SydCarmy truther or anything but let me just say the evidence is evidencing. This is the scene in which Sydney and Carmy are testing out menu options at Carmen's apartment. The scene is washed with a striking white light because, at this moment, they have complete power over the food in front of them, the relationship between them, and the emotions they are feeling. Now I say the evidence is evidencing because I scrubbed through almost all of season 2 for this post and nearly every scene with Claire isn't lit with a white light, it's lit like most of the scenes in the show: a warm toned neutral light. But that's beside the point.

Blue: the lack

The first scene of season 2 is one of Marcus talking to his mom in a coma. He is bathed in harsh blue light because he has little to no control over his mother's health. We see the blue light over and over again across the show but this is one of the few that doesn't have that conflict in lighting. This scene is clear as day. Marcus is powerless over this situation. And he seemingly is at peace with that.

The Disruption of White: the loss

In season 2, when Carmy starts changing the menu without consulting Sydney, we see the normally intense white light of the kitchen being dulled into a colder hue. This may be a stretch but I think this is supposed to represent Sydney grasping for a share of what Carmy continually takes for himself. The warm light directly over only his head, shows how he alone feels like this is "normal". He believes that he has done no wrong. He can't see how he's hurt Sydney. Yet.

In season 3, episode 2. The through-line is the lights. The kitchen light, harsh and exacting and ever-present throughout the season and the kitchen's environment in general, is fritzing out. The only people who don't point this out are Carmen and Richie. During their argument, they are fighting and vying for control. Meanwhile, everyone else is losing said control. Everybody, repeatedly, is trying to calm them down, trying to regain a semblance of peace in the kitchen. To no avail. Until Marcus comes in, of course; the only person who seems to be content with the lack of control he has over his life.

The Split Screen: My Favorite Shots

The following gifs are courtesy of @tragicsiblings

This whole scene. This whole episode, mind you. Is about Carmen Berzatto losing control. He gets stuck in the walk-in and realizes everything he didn't consider and everything he's losing at this moment. Meanwhile, Richie is in his element. It's friends and family night. He's prowling the dining room like it's nobody's business. He trained for this. Richie is trying to exert his power over Carmen to force him to calm down. Obviously, we know this doesn't work. So Richie, because he can, goes back to work. He runs the brigade. While Carmen stays stuck. Stuck in the walk-in but more importantly stuck in his own head.

This scene, man. This scene is a montage of Carmen yelling at everybody to work faster, better, etc. Meanwhile, Richie is shown only in extreme close-ups of his eyes as he surveys the front of house. As they do, they get into an argument. This is intercut with a barrage of reviews calling the restaurant a failure. The line I want to focus on is "Richie doesn't get a hold." I'm translating this to mean "Richie's not in charge here, I am." But this shot. Richie and Carmen make eye contact through the glass of the window into the kitchen. The line down the middle and the triangles mimicking the glass on the wall show their distance. This moment, among others, is why the front and back of house are, as Richie likes to point out, dysregulated. It's because their two leads are at odds with each other.

Carmen will never give any of his power or control over to any of his partners, whether it be the menu to Sydney, the finances to Nat, or even a stake in the business at all to Richie. Carmen Berzatto, at his core, needs to be in control.

[augustmonsooning]

The Bear in 5 Acts : We're really in the Act III weeds, pals

One of the first thing's they'll teach you about good story telling is about the 5 act structure - it's tried and tested, from Shakespeare to films like I don't know, Past Lives, they all follow the same beats.

I think's it's significant that the title card at the this season and maybe season 2 (I'm gonna have to go back to check) says "The Bear Part III"; these seasons are components of a cohesive whole, it's not being made up as they go along. This is part of the reason why the writing and filming is so quick: the bare bones of the story arc is already there, they are just embellishing and perfecting.

Season 3 thoughts under the cut!

Now, I know Season 3 has the crowd split. My initial reaction was that I loved the cinema of it: the first episode I think was one of the best, most innovative bits of TV I've seen in a minute. I really enjoyed how they played with memory and anxiety. The show had a lot of interesting things to say about grief and regret and shame this season, and the ways we cope with it all.

It also cemented for me that The Bear is following v classical 5 act storytelling.

Act 1/ Season 1: Almost pure exposition, and probably why it stands out as a very strong standalone season. You could get away with not watching any episodes after Braciole and still feel like you've watched a great show. The money in the tinned tomatoes, and Carmy's proposal (of a restaurant) to Sydney is the inciting event. You could also think of Sydney coming back as the inciting event - this is probably the first time in Carmy's life where someone outside of his family (maybe even including his family) has seen the worst of Carmy and decided to come back

Act 2/ Season 2: Rising tension. Will The Bear make it? Will Carmy escape his traumas? Will Sydney and Carmy actually find their way back to each other?

Act 3/ Season 3: This is where we are now. To mix metaphors. The traumas and bad copies strategies are coming home to roost. This is Carmy at his very worst, because somehow he thinks this is him at his best. This is how Backstage, a theatre newspaper describes Act III : "Oftentimes, the end of your third act leads into a “dark night of the soul,” where the main character is at their lowest moment as a result of the climax. They believe that they cannot achieve that new, overpowering goal established at the end of Act 1. " I think that pretty much sums up Carmy and Syd this season, on the surface their goals have been achieved: The Bear is a functioning kitchen, it's packed out every night. There's modern Danish design, there's two tops, a tasting menu at the bar, and a window on the side for the sandwiches (the family style has been scraped, but we'll get to that later). So why does it feel so off? Can it be that neither of them wanted any of that shit in the first place? Can it be that they were at their happiest eating gluey spaghetti with their friends they loved in a place that had regulars who knew them, a place they could innovate with the odds and ends they had lying around and still make wonderful food. Could it be that a place where bricklayers and teachers and postmen were eating was the goal all along?

Act 4/Season 4: Where next? I think both Syd and Carmy are gonna reckon with what is actually important to them. And we alreayd know what that is, it's that scene under the table last season: they love to take care of people, they love to cook (not be "chefs"), they love to be there for each other - be someone the other can rely on. Everything they absolutely were not doing in Season 3.

Act 5/ Season 5: The real coming back. I remember watching Braciole for the first time thinking fuck, is this just an extremely silly show? It feels so real, so earned all the way up until the cash falls out of those tomatoes and Syd comes back. Because nothing has actually been resolved or addressed. Carmy has learnt absolutely nothing. Syd is as impatient and green as ever, jumping into a new business with a guy who has absolutely shown himself to be volatile and unreliable. But we forgive them, because as the viewer we've come to love Carmy and understand that the angry, doughnut slamming Carmy is not the real him, and we understand Syd because sure, of course it feels intoxicating that when the person who made the best thing you've ever eaten, the person who can seemingly finish all your sentences, the pinnacle of your professional ambitions looks at you with his freakishly blue eyes, and ask you open a restaurant with him, you're gonna say yes. The series from Season 2 onwards feels to me like a redux of the last few episodes of Season 1 in slow-mo but this time with real learning, real consequences, and real, abiding love. Like a "find out what you love, and do it on purpose" type of thing. When they get back together the last episode it's going to feel even more magical than in Season 1.

Listen. I feel like that dude trying to get Tina et al to invest thousands of dollars to get a job in Napkins. It feels like a scam to tell you all to invest more time and hope. But, imma do it, because it's gonna pay off.

It also doesn't escape me that Strange Currencies, the song they use on the show to signpost Carmy's romantic life, has the lyrics "I need a chance, a second chance, a third chance, a fourth chance"

Carmy had a chance in season 1, he fucked it up by going absolutely bananas in 'Review', he had another one in season 2; and he ran away and then thought he could fix it with a fancy chef jacket and promises under a table, he's had another chance in season 3 and safe to say, he's fucked it again. He's gonna get another, but he better stick the landing.

[somerandomjewelleryonthefloor]

Random headcanons I made for HSS characters because they seem like they fit + I feel silly (these are very long and might go into essay length territory)(also ongoing as HSS is my obsession):

✧˚ Michael Harrison is a passenger princess. At least with my MC Solrin. I mean c'mon, he may have a car- but he's born to be on a motorcycle, he doesn't know how to drive a car for shit, he's the biggest passenger princess ever and my MC has a cute little pink tiara taped to the top of 'his' headrest, as a tease since he barely drives and always calls shotgun.

✧˚ Caleb likes to match clothes with his SO. Even if his SO is wearing the prettiest princess like dress or are wearing plaid with stripes with loafers on- he's matching them. Always. Even accessories, he just likes matching.

✧˚ Scott, the man, the legend, the dad himself- he is fucking loaded with cash. He is RICH. His train models are so good they bring in FARRR too much money to deal with. Hence why his daughter Solrin casually has a vintage 1963 dodge dart with customisation in 2018. HOWEVER, he likes to keep his daughter humble so they own a basic suburban house and he made his daughter get a job for her own money.

✧˚ Maria wakes up to cats on her every morning. Since she owns 2 cats now after adoption, they're heavily attached to her and sleep on her when it's bed time. Sometimes they do biscuits on her stomach and lay all their weight on her chest in the middle of the night which wakes her up because she can't breathe and also it's a weird sensation. She also definitely has cat hair on her socks sometimes.

✧˚ Aiden definitely sorts his clothing in his closet or clothes drawer via random things such as colour, texture, if it has print, and also what type of clothing it is. I just feel like he does, however he'll just throw his shoes in the fucking abyss when he gets home and will just know where it is. Which is why he hates it when his room gets cleaned because his shoes, despite being wherever, are usually always put in the same messy spot so he knows where it is- so when his room is cleaned he doesn't know where his bunny slippers are. #me

✧˚ Emma has a large pain tolerance but her tolerance with foods of weird textures and strong flavours are very low. She could break her leg and be fine, but if she has spicy octopus on her plate she's going to either cry or refuse to eat that shit at all. Which is a pain for Julia, but I mean Emma can't help it- some food is weird and she doesn't vibe with it. #me

✧˚ Michael is fucking terrified of thunder and lightning, to the point he quivers at seeing dark grey clouds. The loud sounds get to him, and he hates it. He has to cuddle his doggie Rollie in his bed and blast music through his headphones to get through them.

✧˚ Caleb takes it personally when he doesn't get to hug anybody. He's a cuddle bug, he loves his friends and his LI, so being denied a hug from anyone when they do something good like ace a test makes him sad.

✧˚ Sydney once stared at a kaleidoscope for an hour straight when she was in the nurses office because she hurt herself during cheer practice, and the school nurse didn't even need to do anything like talk to her or anything, other than patching her up, Sydney remained silent and staring at the glorious colourful light.

✧˚ Morgan was 'obsessed' with Joan Of Arc, Gretchen from Mean Girls, and most of the main girls in most kids shows in middle school, and this was before she knew what the term "Lesbian" meant.

✧˚ during freshmen year, Maria was obsessed with the business casual aesthetic so much, she wore full on blazers and button ups and looked super duper professional. Until everyone in her year had to remind her that this was freshmen year and she could dress up like a cat girl and no one would care.