#sydney is the main character

[nolita-fairytale]

so my darling | sydney adamu x the restaurateur (unnamed male oc) | oneshot

summary: sydney falls in love with a restauranteur (one played by pedro pascal). song title inspired by so my darling by rachel chinouriri.

warnings: swearing, unnamed ocs, talking about sex, use of she/her pronouns, no use of y/n, two original characters (the restaurateur & the pastry chef), the pastry chef is the mc from make my heart surrender, wong kar-wai films, ambiguous ending

wc: 4.8k

a/n: ok, so i'm not entirely back, but this photo of pedro pascal and ayo edebiri at the sag awards quite literally haunted me and made me write something about it. also i've really missed all of you. and i've missed these characters. and i miss this world. this oneshot feels really different to me than a lot of the things i've written for the bear and there isn't much inclusion of the other characters because i really, really wanted to write from sydney's perspective. it's limited storytelling in the way that it's mostly her experience of being charmed by the restaurateur but i had a lot of fun with this and i hope you enjoy. fic inspired by the pic below:

nolita fairytale's masterlist

Sydney doesn’t expect to win, yet her name is called out anyway, followed by the phrases: “James Beard Rising Star Award” and “the winner is.” 

Most of the night is a blur. Somewhere between winning the biggest award of her career to accepting congratulations from the best chefs in the world, Sydney’s still trying to gather her bearings. It’s not until Carmy’s girlfriend, the woman who picked up her life and moved to Chicago to be with her exec chef, tugs at her arm. 

Sydney doesn’t mean to completely reduce the woman to just Carmy’s girlfriend. 

She’s also become many other things: the head pastry chef at The Bear, a colleague, and most importantly, a best friend. 

“Hey, Syd! Carm wants to introduce you to someone,” she says, before giving Sydney a chance to politely excuse herself from the previous conversation she’d found herself in. 

As The Pastry Chef leads her away from her present company, Sydney follows with a soft smile, half expecting it to be yet another celebrity chef—someone in Carmy’s network that reminds her why she began working at the Bear when The Bear was The Beef. 

What she doesn’t expect is to meet him, her breath hitching in her throat as she and her best friend who’s dragged her over here, find themselves standing across from Carmy and an unfamiliar man.

“I see a congratulations is in order,” the man greets her, tipping his half-empty glass of champagne in her direction with a smile so charming she has to do a double take. 

“To this year’s newest Rising Star chef.” 

He’s handsome, sure—but that’s not what catches her eye.

The first thing Sydney notices about the man is his soft, dark curls—much cleaner than the unruly ones that belong to her head chef. He wears thick-rimmed rectangular glasses and has a perfectly groomed mustache that surprisingly works for him. It’s not usually her kind of thing, is all. In a white button down, perfectly tucked into his pristine black trousers, it's somehow still black tie with a touch of rebelliousness for forgoing a tie and a proper suit jacket. 

He can’t be much older than Richie, she thinks to herself. What? Ten… maybe fifteen years older than herself? 

Reality comes back to her, as she realizes that she hasn’t said a word, wondering just how long she’s spent caught up in her own head over the handsome stranger. 

“Oh uh, yeah. Thanks,” Sydney replies with a smile and a nod, snapping back to her senses. 

“Syd, this is… probably one of the few mentors I’ve had in my career. Well, him and Terry, ‘course,” Carmy begins to introduce, shyly. He’s not used to the one doing the introductions. “From Malibu.” 

“Fairest Creatures,” the man clarifies with a hearty chuckle, citing the name of the restaurant they worked at together. “Way, waaaaaaay back in the day.”

Right. 

The restaurant that put Carmy on the map, winning himself the same award that year that Sydney’s won tonight. 

That’s when it clicks for her.

An old mentor of Carmy’s. 

Not Terry.

And no, not that one—not the asshole from New York—to put it nicely.

The Restaurateur from California.

“No, I-. Yeah! I’m a big fan of your work, yeah,” Sydney scrambles to say, a glimmer of recognition in her eyes as she reaches out to shake his hand. 

“Carmy was one of my early boys—look at him now. The student has far surpassed the teacher,” the chef adds, implying he’s mentored plenty of then-up-and-coming chefs back in the day.

“Oh thanks, but uh. Nah, I don’t know about that,” Carmy mutters, quick to brush off the older chef’s compliment. 

Sydney can feel The Pastry Chef nudge her playfully, letting out a chuckle in response. The two exchange glances as Sydney follows her gaze from Carmy to his mentor. 

“Oh they’re just being modest. Don’t think I’ve ever met two humbler chefs than these two,” the pastry chef adds with a playful eye roll, shooting her lover a look that doesn’t go unnoticed. “Which… if you ask me, is practically unheard of in this industry so… I consider us lucky, Syd.” 

Sydney lets out a small, nervous laugh in agreement, before raising her own champagne glass to her lips as she finds herself, suddenly, parched. 

*

She sees him again, weeks later, when the pomp and circumstance of winning a James Beard award has almost died down. She’d been quick to assume that, like many other chefs that weekend, he’d only been in town for the award ceremony, but as Sydney listens to the man tell Carmy that he’s moved to Chicago for “the foreseeable future,” she wonders why she never asked in the first place. 

The Restaurateur had come in to say hello, for a meal, and Carmy had quickly declared that it would be on the house—eager to feed the best mentor he ever had in his California fine dining days.

“Yeah, I’ll be steppin’ in for Cuadros… when he goes on paternity leave… and we’re talking about expanding—what that could look like. Well, you know how it goes, Carm. Right now I’m just hangin’ out, helping out where I can between the two restaurants he’s got now,” he explains to Carmy with a nonchalance, as if he’s not a restaurateur whose reputation precedes himself. 

“Ah, man. That’s cool. Well, you let us know if you need anything. I’ll give you mine and uh… Syd, you cool if I give him your number too?” Carmy asks, catching Sydney off guard. 

“What do you-, I mean-?” Sydney begins to ask, unable to hide her surprise. 

“Since he’s new to the restaurant scene here in Chicago. Can help each other out, you know?” Carmy returns, a hopeful look in his eyes.

“Yeah, I guess I-. Sure,” Sydney nods, forcing a small smile in an attempt to shake the ‘deer-in-headlights’ look she’s sure her face has involuntarily contorted itself into. 

She watches her head chef carefully, as Carmy continues to interact with the restaurateur in a way that she’s never seen before. She’s never seen him this eager to try to impress someone—hell, sometimes she wonders if Carmen thrives on pretending like he doesn’t give a fuck what anyone thinks—so it’s sends her head spinning as she tries to reckon with this newly-revealed side of her business partner.

“That means a lot. Thank you–the both of you,” The Restaurateur replies, genuinely, bringing her back into the conversation.

“Sure,” Sydney manages to get out, still caught up in her head—exploring this new side of Carmy she has yet to see. “Anything for a friend of Carmy’s.” 

“I’m at Amaru most of the time these days,” the restaurateur continues, his eyes shifting from Carmy then back to Sydney as he adds one last thing. 

“You should stop by sometime.” 

*

They exchange a few texts here and there, but it’s all business. 

Who’s your preferred vendor for kitchen towels? 

You guys see success with extended weekend hours? 

Thoughts on being open on Monday?

“He likes you,” The Pastry Chef insists one day, in between lunch and dinner service. Sydney quickly shoves her phone back into her apron pocket, as if she’s a kid again—one who’s gotten caught texting in class. 

“What? He does not! I-. This is-, it’s not-, we are two professionals… talking shop,” Sydney dismisses, because it’s easier to push those thoughts aside than to entertain them.

“Syd. He could be texting Carm but he’s texting you,” the her friend continues, completely and utterly unconvinced. Sydney finds herself on the receiving end that says, ‘cut the bullshit’ as The Pastry Chef continues. 

“Even if it is… just about work, I think it says something that he’s texting you, Syd. I mean, do you know how long it took me and Carmy to-.” 

“Okay, but not all of us are you and Carmy!” Sydney interjects, letting out an uncomfortable laugh as a means to break the tension. 

Off her look, her friend just chuckles with a shake of her head, reminded of a time that she too could live this far in denial. 

“If you say so,” The Pastry Chef resigns herself, accepting that she won’t make much progress on this one today. 

She waits a beat, focused on cleaning up her station as Syd unconsciously checks her phone to see if there’s a notification from a certain someone yet. 

“When are we going? To his restaurant, I mean,” The Pastry Chef speaks up again with a quirked eyebrow. 

Could she really have noticed that? Syd wonders. 

This time, Sydney only groans in response with a mumbled, “Fuck off. I am sick of you,” earning a bigger laugh this time from her pastry chef friend. 

But the conversation seems to be the push she needs. It only takes a week or so longer for their days off to align, and Sydney’s the one bringing up the idea: that they should do a happy hour at Amaru to “show support” (and nothing else — really, no ulterior motives at all). 

The Pastry Chef is more than enthusiastic about the idea, easily suggesting that they make it a girls’ night. 

Which is how Sydney finds herself here, seated between her two biggest cheerleaders, Sugar one side of her, and her pastry-chef-colleague-turned best friend, at the bar of the Pan-Latin American neighborhood spot. She’s sure that Sugar was recruited for said girls’ night, in an attempt to get a second opinion on whether the handsome, older restaurateur is or is not in fact, into her. 

She doesn’t hate the idea of it, for the record, but she wonders if they’re reading this all wrong—hesitant to get her hopes up.

But after the first plate—a gift from the kitchen—and the aperitif sent their way, both on the house, Sydney can only assume that The Restaurateur has something to do with it. 

Of course, it’s easy to chalk it up to good hospitality. After all, hadn’t they done the same when he visited The Bear, a few things on the house Carmy insisted they send out? Isn’t it customary? 

Sydney thinks back to how easily Carmy had given her number to the older chef, eager to extend as much support as possible to his previous mentor as he transitioned into the Chicago market. 

But he wasn’t texting Carmy all that much. Just her. 

She tries not to brush off yet another excuse: because she’s the CDC, not Carmy; because maybe he thinks Carmy, as the exec chef, doesn’t have the time when she does. Syd thinks she could go on and on like this, and instead, for a split second, she allows herself to think that maybe, just maybe, it’s because her friends aren’t all that wrong about this. 

“You’ll have to forgive me. I wanted to come say hello earlier, but. Well, you know how it goes,” The Restaurateur says, earning the attention of all three women. While he acknowledges both of her friends warmly, he makes sure to he’s look at Sydney as he concludes with: 

“I’m glad you came.” 

“Oh, yeah. Thank you for everything. Seriously. Everything’s been amazing,” Sydney answers, wondering why it suddenly feels five degrees warmer inside of the restaurant.

Sugar snickers and the knowing look shared between her and The Pastry Chef doesn’t go unnoticed. 

She just might have to kill her best friends later for this. 

The Restaurateur smiles, and with a polite nod of his head, mutters a ‘thank you’ before her friends chime in with compliments, kudos, and their own respective ‘thank yous’ for the superb hospitality. Syd listens as he picks The Pastry Chef’s brain on their newest dessert addition, while Sugar enjoys what feels like a well-deserved second margarita. As The Restaurateur explains the most recent dishes he’s added to the menu since taking over as CDC, she notices that somehow, his focus and attention always seem to return to her. 

He can’t visit for long, The Restaurateur apologizes—it is a busy night of service—and before she knows it, he bids his goodbyes before disappearing to the back of the house for the rest of the evening. 

“Well he definitely likes you,” The Pastry Chef declares, as soon as he’s out of earshot. 

“Oh. So obvious,” Sugar adds with a knowing smirk as the two exchange the exact same glance from earlier

“I’m gonna kill you guys,” Sydney mutters, her head hanging low as she feels a heat rush to her cheeks. She can’t make eye contact with either of them—not right now—or she might just burst into flames. 

“Well, he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you! That’s for sure,” Sugar clarifies, earning a nod of agreement from The Pastry Chef. 

“See! This is what I’ve been telling her since… shit, since he came to The Bear a few weeks ago!” the pastry chef exclaims, sharing another looking with Sugar. “I think he likes you and I think you like him.” 

Sydney opens her mouth to say something, but instead, just lets out an exasperated sigh, earning another round of giggles and exclamations of ‘I knew it!’ from her best friends. 

They don’t stay for much longer, knowing they’re all due back at the restaurant in the morning. The three women say their goodbyes before parting ways, and as Sydney sits on the train, on the way home with her phone on do not disturb, she notices a few notifications waiting to be read.

A text from Carmy about the prep list. 

The pics from tonight waiting for her to open in the group message labeled: Girlies.

And then, from the Restaurateur…

Thanks for bringing friends! It was great to see you. 

There’s a familiar heat that warms her cheeks as her fingers race to reply:

Thank you for everything. The meal was incredible. 

She waits before adding:

I’m glad we stopped by. 

And almost instantly, there’s a reply: 

Come back any time. :) With or without friends. 

*

Come back any time. With or without friends. 

The words linger in her head over the next few days. She lets them settle in, tossing them back and forth in her mind, while holding what feels like a fragile kind of excitement in her hands that’s somehow seemed to have buried itself deep inside of her. 

So he is flirting with you, she thinks to herself, coming to the conclusion that her friends were perhaps right about The Restaurateur. 

She doesn’t want to completely misread the situation, but she’s not sure how else she should interpret it either. 

It takes Sydney two more weeks to work up the courage to go back to Amaru on her day off that week. Part of her wonders whether it’s been too long—if she’s missed her chance—and part of her knows that in the business they’re in, the days blur together, and two days become two weeks, become two months, and that he probably hasn’t even noticed that’s been that long. Her and The Restaurateur are both on Kitchen Standard Time, right? She’s not sure what takes over her, but she’s somehow mustered up the cajones (she can practically hear Tina’s voice in her head as she hypes herself up) to show up, this time, without friends. 

Her risk does not go unrewarded, when he comes out to say hello. This time, he’s not alone, introducing her to his soon-to-be-business partner, Chef Cuadros, the owner of Amaru and his other venture, Bloom. They exchange pleasantries and congratulations (you know, over the huge fucking deal of an award she’s just recently won) before he pats The Restaurteur on the back, excusing himself back to the kitchen. 

The Restaurateur chuckles, noting how much he’s looking forward to joining Cuadros’ restaurant group. 

“Rodolfo’s a great guy,” The Restaurateur sighs, contently. 

“Yeah, he seems great,” Sydney agrees, almost just to be polite.

“Yeah. Really leads by example. Rare to find that in this industry,” he chuckles, before changing the subject. 

“Speaking of. Cuadros is closing up tonight which means I’m off, starting now.” 

“Oh?” 

“Yeah. You wanna get a drink?” 

She doesn’t even have to think about it. 

“Yeah. I uh-, I’m in.” 

*

“It’s devastating!” The Restaurateur declares, the passion evident as the words escape his lips. 

“I mean, the transitions are a little choppy. And even they can’t take away the fact that: It. Absolutely. Without a doubt. 100% ruined my life,” Sydney wholeheartedly agrees, completely captivated this conversation—one that she finds incredibly sexy.

“I cry. Every single time,” the man that sits across from her says, a dopey smile plastered to his face and a heat to his cheeks from the second whiskey on the rocks he’s nursing.

“Every single time!” Sydney emphasizes, just to drive the point home. 

“Because, well-, I mean, they just can’t catch a break! Always just a moment too late. It’s like… well, it’s like they’re never supposed to end up together in the first place,” The Restaurateur clarifies, in reference to what about the film is so goddamn devastating. 

Syd nods with a sigh, examining the idea in her head cautiously, knowing that he’s right—even if she doesn’t want him to be. 

A beat. 

She leans in, the corners of her lips beginning to turn up into a smile. 

“Have you seen Chungking Express?” she asks, because she’s ready to start this whole thing over again. 

“Have I seen-? Are you-, of course I’ve seen Chungking Express,” the Restaurateur answers, building on their shared excitement about finding common ground outside of the kitchen. “I love Wong Kar-Wai so much I even put myself through My Blueberry Nights.” 

“Okay, chill. It’s not a competition,” Sydney jokes, earning a full bellied laugh from The Restaurateur. 

“You’re funny,” he states, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiles back at her. 

Her heart skips a beat, her breath caught in her throat. 

The way he says it is genuine. It’s real. It feels… more earnest—more intimate than what should exist between two colleagues.

Then again, she didn’t exactly say ‘yes’ to drinks thinking it was just as colleagues.

“I-,” Sydney hesitates, scrambling to find the right words when it feels like so many of them could burst out of her at any minute. 

Instead she settles on, “Thanks,” feeling more like Carmy than she’s ever felt in her life. 

There it is again—that flutter in her belly. 

This man is most definitely flirting with her, a thought that only mildly causes her to panic. 

The moment feels almost too tender for either of them. Sydney shifts nervously in her seat while The Restaurateur takes another sip of his whiskey, before clearing his throat. 

“I uh. I should probably get going. It’s uh… yeah. It’s getting late,” Sydney says, finding the words to excuse herself. 

She’s not sure what she wants out of this—it’s maybe why she takes the out in the first place, thinking it may be best to end the evening here. Tonight was… more than she expected it to be, and she’s torn between wanting to stay and wanting to flee the great state of Illinois. 

Better pause while we’re ahead, Sydney thinks.

“Yeah, no, of course,” The Restaurateur agrees, easily, before insisting that he pick up the tab. 

“No, I-, I couldn’t let you-,” Sydney begins to argue. 

“Please,” he insists, his tone once again rendering her once again at a loss for words. “You’ve been more than helpful to us over at Amaru since the minute I got here. This is on me.”

*

Syd spends the next few days going back and forth over whether or not it—whatever the hell the other night was—would be a good idea. She eventually concludes that she can’t stay away—from the high, from the way he made her feel when he insisted on paying the bill (a moment she’s replayed in her head over and over again), from him. She doesn’t tell anyone: not Nat, not The Pastry Chef, and certainly, not Carmy. 

She sends the text before she can chicken out one Saturday night, as she finishes closing up. 

Heading to Green Door Tavern for a night cap. 

He puts her out of her misery, quick to respond as always, almost as if he was expecting her to (or waiting for her to, which, she decides is a little too much of wishful thinking). 

I was just thinking about you! Just rewatched 2046 the other night. Want some company?

Yeah. 

Let me close up. I’ll let you know when I’m on the way :)

The smiley face.

The fucking smiley face. 

She discovers that the same dopey smile finds its way across his lips as soon as he enters the bar. The two of them quickly find themselves in yet another deep conversation about foreign films over, for him, a whiskey on the rocks, and for her, a tequila soda. There’s that same buzzing in the air between the two of them—chemistry, one might call it—as they move from Wong Kar-Wait to Jean-Pierre Jeunet with an ease that feels good to her. 

Really good, actually. 

So good that as soon as Sydney realizes it’s getting late, she doesn’t run in the other direction. She’s not sure what she’s expecting, but she thinks this time, she could stay. This time, she could talk to him till the sun came up, allowing herself to get lost in his soft brown eyes she finds more comforting than she should. It’s not till he brings it up that she notices again that: 

“It’s getting late.” 

“Oh shit. Yeah,” Sydney agrees, reluctantly, because she doesn’t want this night to end. Before she can say anything else, her body moves to get up, just half an hour away from last call. 

The Restaurateur stops her, reaching out a hand that feels warm against hers as she pauses, her eyes locked with his. 

“I hope it’s not uh, well, I hope it’s not inappropriate of me,” he begins, clearing his throat as he pauses. 

“No, I-, I don’t want the night to-, you know… I lost track of time too and I-,” she stammers through, unsure of what she wants to say. 

He smiles warmly, his hand moving to grab hers, as if, in spite of the fact that she can barely get the words out, he understands exactly what she’s trying to say. 

“You can say ‘no,’” he prefaces with, a sure nod as his gaze returns to hers. 

“Can I take you home?” 

And the only response that makes sense to her is the biggest, most enthusiastic:

“Yes.” 

*

Maybe it’s just a one time thing. 

Okay, a three-time thing, considering it happened that night, then two more times after the sun came up.

But to Sydney’s surprise (and delight) he texts her later that day, and the one (three) time thing becomes a one to three times a week kind of thing (schedules permitting, of course).

They fall into a rhythm—and she likes this rhythm—they cook, work at their separate restaurants, and then she lets him fuck her into his mattress like they didn’t just work their own respective twelve-hours shifts. 

The Pastry Chef lets out a laugh, noticing that it’s the third day in a row that Syd’s come in having ‘not gotten enough sleep’ yet still glowing. 

“How’s the sex?” she smirks, shooting Sydney a look. 

In return, Syd rolls her eyes, like she isn’t getting laid on the regular, her best friend waiting patiently for a proper answer. 

She checks over both shoulders to ensure no one else is listening before lowering her voice. 

“It’s the best sex of my life.” 

*

She finally moves into her own apartment a month later.

Of course, it’s a decision she’s made on her own volition and has nothing to do with the hot Restaurateur who seems like he might have some kind of staying power—the same one that’s giving her the big bang of orgasms, but that’s besides the point. 

No, it most certainly has nothing to do with that. 

With Chef Cuadros officially out on paternity leave, The Restaurateur somehow still manages to find the time to help her move in between running two restaurants while developing the concept for a third. 

It’s the first night he spends the night and they sleep—just sleep—since she started seeing him, though they christen the place in the morning. 

“We’ve been talking about a full nixtamalization program. For the new spot,” The Restaurateur explains over breakfast tacos one morning—ones he made for her in her new apartment because, of course, they had to christen the place in more ways than one. 

“Shit. That’d be dope,” Sydney replies, as they continue to bounce ideas back and forth. “Do you think you could pull it off in that small of a space?” 

“I’m so glad you asked!” The Restaurateur grins, before going into a near-monologue about the handful of creative solutions he’s come up with, eager to soundboard a few ideas off of her. 

But Sydney finds herself a little distracted. 

It’s not that she’s not listening… but she’s got something else on the tip of her tongue that she’s been holding back. The Restaurateur is in the middle of breaking down the logistics, contemplating whether or not they could pull off what he’s labeled, Idea B, when Sydney finally musters up the courage to blurt out: 

“I want to cook something for you. Like not in a restaurant, or anything. I mean. Here. I want to cook something for you here.” 

“Yeah?” 

A beat. 

“Yeah, I mean. It doesn’t have to be like-, I don’t know, this big thing or anything. But. You’re always cooking for me,” she explains, unsure of why she feels so nervous as she continues. “I kinda want to return the favor.” 

He only smiles. 

“Then it’s a date.” 

*

It started as the best sex of her life, but it’s as if he’s carved out a place in her life without her noticing, seamlessly woven himself into her life, and she, his, in a way that she can’t imagine what it was like before. 

It simultaneously excites her and makes her feel uneasy. 

Fuck. 

She doesn’t really even know what she should call ‘it’ anyway. 

They haven’t really talked about it—haven’t given it a label—but with shifts at The Bear for her, running two restaurants for him, and fleeting nights spent at each others’ places before it was time to do it all over again, it’s not like they’ve had the time. 

She finds herself in late Fall, almost Winter, all dressed with a newly-done silk press at yet another James Beard fundraiser. Her coat was checked in long ago as she bares her shoulders in the near-off the shoulder, gingham-printed dress, with The Restaurateur by her side. He wears thick-framed glasses, his white-collared shirt unbuttoned low enough that she’s more than ready to head back to her place to undo the rest. 

It practically gives her deja vu—the two finding themselves in an all-too-familiar place—as they stand across from Carmy and The Pastry Chef, sipping on their fancy champagne and making small talk to the best of anyone’s ability. 

“Hope you guys don’t mind. Can we get a few pictures?” the event photographer asks as he approaches, noting that a picture of this year’s Rising Star award recipient is a must on his shot list. 

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Sydney replies, a kindness in her voice even through her discomfort. 

It’s not lost on her that Carmy’s more than relieved that he doesn’t have to be in the spotlight anymore, eager to step out of the way. 

She poses for a few photos solo before both Carmy and The Pastry Chef are encouraged to join in, taking a few more shots with her. 

“And then can we get one of the two of you?” the photographer asks, this time gesturing towards The Restaurateur. 

Sydney opens her mouth to protest, to let him off the hook, because what would that mean? Before she can say anything, The Restaurateur has happily agreed, wrapping an arm around her, his hand on the small of her back. 

She exchanges a look with him, something that says, ‘are you sure?’

He only nods in response, a supportive smile and a softness in his eyes that puts her at ease as if to say, ‘of course.’ 

Instinctively, she reaches for him, his right hand landing softly against his midsection. She feels the warmth of his palm as his hand slides up, landing somewhere above her wrist, making another point of contact. Well, now they certainly look like a couple. 

“Great! That’s great, you two,” the photographer grins after taking a few more shots, his eyes fixed to the screen on his DSLR as he plays back the last few photos. “Thanks so much.” 

What could this mean? 

What could this be? 

She doesn’t have all the answers. 

Not yet, at least.

But she’ll take a wild guess—one that fills her with a certainty that she can feel in her bones. 

Because tonight, he stood proudly by her side—his hands all over her as if she were his, in a photo she’s sure will make it out of Adobe Photoshop—meaning maybe, just maybe, The Restaurateur could be here to stay.

[spywhitney]

Me: Fantasizing about posting an extensive Sydney and Carmy meta post on reddit.

Also me: Knowing the bear sub reddit is just a Richie Stan account in (poor) disguise, and it'll get little engagement or the comments will unsurprisingly swerve to the topic of Richie or be straight up dismissive.

[general-sleepy]

Finally got around to finishing The Beetle. Wow. That, uh. That sucked.

[cconfusedkat]

These are just warm up doodles especially since i haven't drawn 🕷 for a bit and i wanted to rejog my memory ... i miss my silly sapphics Dearly i had to draw them bc i miss them 💔💔😭😭

[on-a-sunbeam]

did you know that you could own an arvin sloane action figure. i’m not saying you should i’m just saying you can

i also don’t think you understand how much i love that he comes with a glass and pitcher. why does he do that. i don’t really think that’s the most iconic thing about sloane but i love it nonetheless

[yezzyyae]

If you think Carmy & Sydney are “secretly in love” or “soulmates” you are not watching “The Bear” properly. I mean this with all my heart PLEASE STOP WATCHING “THE BEAR” IF YOU THINK CARMY & SYDNEY ARE SECRETLY IN LOVE!!! PLEASE REEVALUATE HOW YOU THINK LOVE IS GIVEN OR RECEIVED. AND PLEASE GROW UP BECAUSE MEN & WOMEN CAN BE FRIENDS!!

WHAT SCENE ARE YALL WATCHING WHERE LOVE IS OOZING FROM CARMY & SYDNEY?? TWO ADULTS WHO HAVE MULTIPLE EMOTIONAL ISSUES PLEASE TELL ME WHAT SCENE IT IS? I watch “The Bear” every 2 weeks and I don’t see no romantic love between Carmy and Sydney. It’s becoming annoying and I think y’all need to stop watching the show. Because yall not watching it properly & that’s annoying!

Carmy gives every member of his crew proper attention. Carmy literally says “okay” to every person in his life. Sydney is not the only person Carmy gives his attention too. Sydney is not the only person Carmy says “I’m sorry” too either. Carmy either runs or agrees when confronted with an issue. Sydney is not turn on when she talks to Carmy. Sydney has emotional issues also if you don’t see them then y’all need to stop watching the show. Sydney is not the driving force behind Carmy’s desire to cook or revamp “The Beef” into “The Bear”.

Sydney never apologized to Carmy after she quit in season 1 episode 7 when she was at fault. Literally Sydney was the one who created the issue of the “pre-order” option being on & she picked with Richie after Carmy sent Richie over there to help make the sauce. Smh where is Sydney daydreaming about Carmy like she is so in love with him. Sydney was complaining about Carmy w/ Claire because she is the “only child” & she wants attention and constant praise. And Carmy thought of Sydney during his panic attack because he was overwhelmed about the restaurant opening & he knows he did not give Sydney his all. Carmy knows him & Sydney can really be a great team while Sydney tells him the truth when he needs to hear it. And that is love!! Friends have to love each other because it has to be respect & trust. Everything is not always romantic and if you are an adult over 25 y/o & you think Sydney & Carmy is secretly in love, I suggest you seek therapy. I expect children 25 & under(yes you are a child in my eyes, I’m 35 y/o but feels 55 y/o 😂) to see romantic love in each person who talks to the other sex/same sex longer than 2 mins.

PLEASE GROW UP & STOP WATCHING MY FAVORITE SHOW IF YALL GOING TO RUIN IT!

[snapdragoned]

Of course some cheating drama happened immediately. I guess Beaumont never officially ended things with Sydney and should took offense to him dancing with his pregnant girlfriend!

Samit was also there thinking about how many people he'd kissed, naturally.

[mariathechosen1]

Was Anyone But You a good Much Ado About Nothing adaptation? No, not at all, but fuck it was fun!

[noirineverysense]

imo I get that people often don't ship black women bc they don't care about them. But I also feel we put too much emphasis on romance and desirability when it comes to talking about black female characters.

[calpalsworld]

Since Im not making Pressure Cooked rn and if I do make more, it'll be a while until the issue with Ergot Zoozve's major appearance, so I'll just explain his character because it tortures me to love him so much but nobody knows his deal.

He's like a lore-related side character, who also helps explain for the audience why Captain Sydney is like that. He and Sydney went to the same military academy (ew military). Important context for later: There's a law between the United Stations that anyone under 35 can't work as a sailor unless they have special circumstances. (This is because people are dying young so the population is dwindling.)

At first, the audience is led to believe Officer Zoozve was Sydney's bully or rival or something because he keeps teasing Sydney and not wanting her help.

Officer Zoozve is the right hand for a guy named Captain Solson, and they both have new experimental fungi based tech that they use for combat and for better survival capabilities. This tech is created by a company called SCEND in collaboration with the United Stations military. Fungi is very important to Pressure Cooked society, its seen as holy in some contexts due to being a remnant of the old times, so the public supports this project even if it is kind of horrific.

The symbiotic fungus lives inside of technological implants and is very volatile. The fungus also extends through the human's skin, and is controlled by the human thanks to a small bit of the fungus that reaches a neural implant in the humans' brain. Zoozve has scars across his upper half from a malfunction, which caused the fungus to eat away at his first layer of flesh. The final goal of SCEND is to make a fungus that lives in the lungs and help humans convert the sulfuric waters of the Boil into breathable gasses, and also to be able to form an outer shell that can withstand high pressures. Aquatic lifestyle obtained via fungus.

So eventually weird shit sneaks up on the audience that's like ohhh he's not Sydneys bully from her youth there is something peculiar going on. (Imagine the two of them kissing with tongue). The real situation is that they're weird exes. The break up was spurred because theyre a bit over a year apart from each other, so Zoozve started his service before Sydney. Before separating, Zoozve encouraged Sydney to quit and wait, saying that he would go make things better in the world, and then come back to her which is INSANE. Sydney is angry about this. This is why Zoozve keeps teasing and dismissing Sydney - he still wants her to follow this idea. Besides feeling belittled and ignored, she is also angry at this behavior because he is protective of her, yet assumes SHE will just be okay with HIM going through experiments and overworking himself. Sigh.... the arrogant stubborn asshole...

He's not a horrible guy at heart??? he honestly doesn't realize how harmful he's being. (He thinks he's being noble about the "you should quit, i should fix everything" thing, and playful/flirtatious with the teasing thing).

Ultimately, the way the relationship ended makes Sydney feel powerless, which is one reasons shes determined to become a bit deranged. (If/when I ever make more you'll see how shes a little deranged.)

ok heres a meme

tldr Zoozve and Sydney are military personnel that are both depraved in their own ways and exes, but still fantasize about settling down together, yet they seem like they want to rip each others heads off. Also the fungus.

[fischerfrey]

► mini profile;

Full Name: Sydney Orville Barlow Birthday: February 13th, 1892 (Aquarius) Pronouns: he/him Sexual Orientation: bisexual Hogwarts House: Slytherin

►academics:

Best Subject: Charms, Transfiguration Worst Subject: Divination, History of Magic Extracurriculars: none Sydney realized early on that him being muggle-born was going to affect the way he was treated in the Wizarding World, so he came up with an elaborate lie about his heritage. Some of the school staff knew, of course, but Sydney convinced them to keep quiet about it (which wasn't difficult, since the school was more than happy to close its eyes from the discrimination faced by muggle-borns). At the age of eleven, he didn't realize the far-reaching consequences of the lie and how far he'd have to go to keep it up.

►magic:

Wand: Larch, 11 inches, phoenix feather core Strong, durable and warm in colour, larch has long been valued as an attractive and powerful wand wood. Its reputation for instilling courage and confidence in the user has ensured that demand has always outstripped supply. This much sought-after wand is, however, hard to please in the matter of ideal owners, and trickier to handle than many imagine. I find that it always creates wands of hidden talents and unexpected effects, which likewise describes the master who deserves it. It is often the case that the witch or wizard who belongs to the larch wand may never realise the full extent of their considerable talents until paired with it, but that they will then make an exceptional match. Patronus: Fire-dwelling salamander This small, fire-dwelling lizard is born out of flames and lives as long as the flames that spawned it, though it can survive outside them for up to six hours if fed properly. This Patronus represents a person that was born and/or has lived under pressing circumstances but overcomes every obstacle, getting stronger each day. People with this Patronus love challenges and are good at handling stress. They're also usually extremely passionate, ready to give their all for an idea or relationship if they feel it's the right move.

►appearence:

Faceclaim: Rami Malek Eye colour: Green/gray Hair colour: Black Height: 5ft 7 (171cm)

►relationships:

Parents: Tyrone and Sarah Barlow Tyrone Barlow and his family live in North Eastern England. He's a muggle and a factory worker and the family isn't particularly well-off. After the death of Tyrone's first wife Katherine, he marries Sarah. As a child, Sydney is close to his parents, but after he starts at Hogwarts, he distances himself from them to keep up his ruse about being pureblood. Tyrone and Sarah are hurt and struggle to understand the stigma around being muggleborn. Older brother: Aiden Tyrone Barlow Aiden is Sydney's half-brother from their father's first marriage, and a muggle. He is five years older than Sydney and the pair were always close as children. When Sydney starts Hogwarts and distances himself from his family, Aiden is hurt but tries to understand the politics of the Wizarding World. Aiden and Sydney reconnect during and after the Great War. FC: Matthew Settle

Friends: OPEN! ​ Dormmates: OPEN for school years 1903-1910 Love interest: Alexej Kavinsky by @potionboy3 During the war, Sydney is taken captive by an extremist group of Anti-Muggle wizards due to his blood status. Alexej saves his life and the two keep running into each other afterwards. FC: Tom Schilling

►about:

While the Sorting Hat couldn't be fooled about his blood status, it saw great potential for Sydney in Slytherin, so it put him there. Slytherin rarely, if ever, accepted any other than pure-blood students, so Sydney had to be clever and careful to survive. He made friends as well as rivals, and left school with excellent marks in Charms, Transfiguration, and DADA. He considered becoming an auror but decided against it in fear of being discovered as a muggle-born. His secret leaked out anyway, thanks to an old school rival of his. Sydney retreated from the Wizarding World despite promising career options at the Ministry. He returned to his family to make amends and joined the army as his brother had done. Sydney is ambitious and cunning, as befits his placement in Slytherin. He's a practiced liar and throws himself easily into any role if it benefits him. He's not malicious, though, and rarely goes out of his way to hurt others. He has a sense of humour and appreciates that in others too. He's not a very open person, though he can make one believe that they know him. He tells the truth more often than not, because the big lies are easier to keep up that way. He doesn't hold strong convictions or loyalty to any cause, and prefers to keep his options open but ultimately he wants to do what he feels is right.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

[bluinary]

Suddenly understanding the Jeremy Allen White thirst

[walterdecourceys]

sydney waltokov is literally everything. the real stars of the show to be honest

[goldlightsaber]

i think the scream franchise is an interesting case study in how movies have gone from giving characters some backstory but mostly focusing on plot development to very character-driven stories where an emotional arc is seen as pivotal to a movie

[thezanyarthropleura]

Gamera vs. the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

Chapter 3: The Slingshot

(AO3 link)

“Those are Irys tentacles!” Mikey shouted as he tried to stand, only for all four of them to stumble and waver on the rotating bridge. The four tentacles audibly writhed through the air to retake combat positions around the girl, who combatively raised her fists.

Donnie shared a quick glance with Casey, and the two of them charged forward in step, making use of the lengths of their weapons to ward back the points of the tentacles that jabbed at them. Donnie managed to get both ends of his bō staff in place to bat away the girl’s two left-side tentacles, but Casey could only slap away the upper right before the lower right lashed across the surface of the bridge and swept both of them off their feet.

In the meantime, Sydney had run up behind them and leapt high, twirling upside-down at the height of her arc and landing behind the Irys girl on the other side of the spinning bridge. Claws embedded in stone, she leveraged her momentum and pushed herself into a running attack, but the Irys girl looked back over her shoulder, several tentacles rising high and stabbing downward.

With little effort, Syndey wove back and forth to avoid the first two as they pierced the stone, but the third’s kunai point split open down the middle into a grasping pincer, snatching Syndey up into the air before twisting back around and throwing her over Donnie and Casey’s heads so she collided with Mikey and sent them both rolling back almost to the edge.

[arospecsyourblockdudes]

reason i had to leave the ch/nt fandom is bcus u cant post shit like “i’d let elijah volkov psychic-drug and manipulate me into dying as the messiah of his own personal stalker religion any day” w/o like several people being mad that ur into the villain of the podcast