My obsessions.

A Recipe for the Fall of Carmen Berzatto – Chapter 19: Raspberry Buttercream

Sydney’s lying on the ground, basking in the coolness of the grass and the nice breeze that’s drifting through her loose pants and shirt, and Carmy’s sitting a few feet away from her, with Sophie half in his lap, who’s laser-focused on fingerpainting on some plain brown wrapping paper in front of her. The paint was one of Carmy’s presents. Sydney could barely hold back a laugh when he told her – of course, he’d try to mold his niece into an artist, too, as young as possible.

Now he raises his eyebrows at Sydney. “Oh, yeah? The life?”

She lets out a satisfied breath. “Yeah. People had the right idea when they invented this.”

He huffs. “What, lying on the ground?”

“Touching grass.”

He laughs, and Sophie looks up at him at that, and laughs, too, as if she got the joke. Then she goes back to working on her fine artwork of lilac and green handprints. Carmy’s smile with those dimples as he contentedly gazes at his niece does something funny to Sydney’s insides.

So she swallows and says, “I feel like I need to touch more grass, you know. And look at the trees. Listen to the wind. Walk on the beach more. Shit– oh, sorry, baby. I mean, stuff like that.”

He stares quietly at the developing painting between them, with a small smile on him, and says, “Get out of the kitchen? Go somewhere quiet?”

A cool breeze runs through the backyard, like balm on her skin.

She sighs. “Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Carmy whispers, like he knows the feeling. Well, that’s why he left, after all, isn't it?

Sydney’s heart aches.

Then he chuckles to himself and says, “You know, I… I like to take photos of trees. And their shadows.”

She blinks up at him as he looks back at her. He’s smiling, but he seems completely serious. She raises a brow. “Yeah?”

Carmy tears his gaze away again to rest it on Sophie’s work. He shrugs and squirms a bit in his position, and she swears he looks a bit redder than a minute ago. “Yeah, I’ve been doing these photography walks lately, around the city…”

There’s a faint memory in her mind of Richie, telling her how Carmy has actual hobbies now, but… Sydney can’t recall any mention of photography. Still. It kinda fits him. Him, with his backpack, phone in his hand – strolling through the streets, looking around, ready to shoot anything interesting. Little city boy. So not him, but still so him in a way.

The image of it warms her heart, and she bites back a smile.

Carmy goes on, “And one of my favorite things is… this.” He points up, and she follows the trail of his finger to the crown of this big, old walnut tree.

“The leaves?” She raises a brow, because where does he even do these walks if the most interesting thing he can find is... a tree leaf? It sounds underwhelming.

He chuckles. “Yeah. Komorebi.”

“Komorebi?” She glances at him, but he’s still staring up. His face is so peaceful, eyes soft, forehead smooth, with a small smile. She kinda wants to take some of Sophie’s paint to try to capture him. To keep him like that, at least on paper.

(In reality, it’d be no better than a stick figure, but a girl can have her romantic fantasies.)

He replies, “Yeah. It’s, um, it’s a Japanese word for when the light is filtering through the leaves. And the patterns it casts on the ground.”

Sydney looks back up to study the tree better.

Oh, yeah. As the wind goes through it, with that soft whooshing sound that tingles her brain in that grounding way, the leaves dance on the branches, creating and erasing little patches of the sky between them, letting the sun cheekily flicker through. The leaves are that summer-bright green, and the sky is the kind of blue that hurts her eyes, and it all washes over her, and damn…

She’s alive. She can breathe. She’s at peace.

Carmy whispers, “Always moving, always changing… never the same. I gotta be present. It keeps my mind quiet.” His voice is steady and calming, and she wants to listen to it forever.

And a word escapes her. “Beautiful.”

“Yeah,” he breathes, and she can’t help but look at him at that. She finds him already gazing at her, with those soft blue eyes, and a quiet warmth starts to spread in her chest, one that has nothing to do with the summer heat.

(komorebi is back!!)

Stress Relief for the Two-Star Chef – Chapter 4: Deep Inside

She moisturizes, massages a really nice body oil into her skin that she hopes will make Carmy hungry, files her nails, chooses a black lacy bra and matching panties, puts on a pair of jeans that hug her butt just right, and a thin, form-fitting black turtleneck under a loose, thick black button-up shirt for warmth. Looking into the mirror, she’s satisfied.

For make-up, she’s only using some mascara, because even though she wants to look nice for Carmy, what if her face ends up buried into his sheets as he thrusts into her from behind again and again and again and–

Sydney shakes her head, coming out of her reverie, heat rushing to her cheeks. God, she needs to get it together. So, yeah. She’s not using any foundation, because that might not be the most practical thing for wild sex.

Also, her hair. She kinda wants to do a low bun, but if she lies on her back as Carmy–

Anyway. A half-up, half-down style with a scrunchie is so much more comfortable, and easier to take out if… needed. For reasons. Sex reasons. Hot, delicious, steamy sex that she’s about to get tonight from Carmy and his hard–

Fuck. No. She should not get fucking turned on right now. She has things to do.

Things like making herself look pretty for him, so he would–

Jeez. She has not thought this much about her appearance for a man since… Since her CIA years, really. And she feels ridiculous, embarrassed, like, it’s just sex, it’s just hooking up, it’s just going for a round or two, it’s casual, it’s just Carmy, her friend, her new (and very first) fuck buddy…

She groans as she looks at herself in the mirror. What is up with her? Honestly, she should change into one of her dad’s shirts from the 90s, pull on some ugly sweatpants, and Carmy should simply feel lucky he’s getting some pussy tonight.

But… Maybe he’s getting pussy, but she is getting some dick, which she’s very much been daydreaming about this past week, so… It’s not like she’s doing Carmy some one-sided favor here. And also, he texted her this morning, asking if she’s okay with fish for dinner and if she’d like some wine to go with it – so it sounds like he’s planning a nice dinner for them, which... makes her feel all kinds of things, yeah, but that's not the point, the point is... It’s basic decency to make herself presentable.

So the outfit that envelopes her curves under her loose button-up has to stay, she’s afraid.