#excellent food and wine
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Brix Restaurant & Gardens, Yountville (No. 7)
Brix Restaurant and Gardens in Yountville opened in 1996 with a clear focus on providing a farm-to-table dining experience. More than two acres of gardens and orchards provide ingredients for a new menu inspired by the culinary traditions of the wine growing regions in Southern France to Northern Italy.
Owned by the Kelleher family, the restaurant's name reflects the measurement of sugar levels at which the grapes for the Kelleher Family Vineyard's Cabernet Sauvignon are harvested.
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#toffee pudding#original photography#vacation#Brix Restaurant & Gardens#travel#tourist attraction#landmark#landscape#7377 St Helena Highway#Yountville#excellent food#excellent food and wine#wine country#California#Napa Valley#West Coast#summer 2023#USA#cityscape#Kelleher Family Vineyard and Brix Vineyard#architecture#evening light#flora#one of my favorite restaurants#blue hour#dusk
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Anne Boleyn's personality was first remarked on after her return from France. In an apparent reference to the skills which she had mastered on the Continent, Wolsey's gentleman-usher, George Cavendish, speaks of 'her excellent gesture and behaviour', [which was] [...] a rare compliment to her, made in his Life of Wolsey, which centres on the catastrophe she was about to bring Wolsey.
Hunting the Falcon: Henry VIII, Anne Boleyn & the Marriage That Shook Europe, John Guy & Julia Fox
#anne boleyn#listening to this (so; a reread) and also feast for crows; alternately...#having fun#but it reminds me of how most of her detractors still paid praise like this#versus. how she's sort of portrayed and thought of as a cersei figure?#someone who will throw a cup of wine into a man's face; real housewives style#versus 'excellent gesture and behaviour' ; again; even from a detractor#then you think of how chapuys described her; ' a skilled / accomplished mistress in the art of intrigue'#which ; if true; requires subtlety#that's not something one can be skilled in if they're completely transparent; volatile and abrasive#which is also how he describes her. food for thought#julia fox#john guy
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#gang#i could di3 on my wqy back to my hotel#the wine paired excellently wiht fish but less 3xcellem5ly with the liver#and .y brain#twas....so tasty tho#like if i die 5 min after posting this#worth it#the menu was a fucked up movie about fucked up people and yet#like ya#food was excellent
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Restaurant Excellence & Eltons Rocket Bar - A night to remember
#Carihuela#dining experience#eltons rocket bar#fine dining#Food#great service#live music#meat#restaurant excellence#sea food#show bar#torremolinos#wayne ward#wine
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shower sounds
It was wrong. It was immoral.
But Simon 'Ghost' Riley couldn't help himself. He just couldn't.
You were his neighbor. His sweet, smiling, food-bringing goddess next-door. You had shared conversations with him, a few bottles of wine from time to time, too many cookies for him to count- you shared walls with him.
For the most part, the walls you shared with him weren't a problem. Sometimes you had your TV volume up too loud, sometimes you sang a bit too loudly to whatever music you were listening to, but that never bothered Simon.
Sometimes he could hear your cat jump up to her cat tower. He could always hear (and sometimes feel the vibration) when she would launch her chubby self up to the tower, and the tower would always knock against the wall you shared with Simon. It made him scoff quietly every time. He had a fondness for that fat cat, whether he would admit it out loud or not.
Maybe her owner, too.
His excellent hearing was partially to blame, so he never made it to be a big deal. He never wanted you to know he heard you that much, didn't want to make you feel bad for some reason.
And those noises really weren't all that bad. In fact, he looked forward to hearing those mundane sounds. Sometimes a cupboard would close a bit too loudly; he never imagined you being the type to go randomly slamming cupboards shut, and he would wonder if you were alright. If he didn't hear anything else, he wouldn't worry as much.
It was a different kind of noise that Simon 'Ghost' Riley was bothered by that came from your unit. Noises, rather. And it was always one kind of noise that led to another…
The first time it happened, he felt almost ashamed of himself. Almost. Maybe he'd be more full of shame if he hadn't felt so damn good after.
Simon had been lounging on one end of his couch, TV remote in hand. He was switching between channels when he heard the familiar sound of your shower turning on.
There was always this almost ringing-like sound that would come through the building's old pipes when the water was on, especially in the showers. The sound was always the same when the shower turned on, though if you adjusted the spray of the shower head, it would become higher or lower pitched depending on the intensity of the stream of water.
He heard you turn on some music before he could hear the shower curtain being drawn back and forth as you probably stepped into the shower, naked-
Simon shook his head, trying to focus back on the task at hand, picking something to watch on TV.
But there was nothing on.
He decided to give up on that. Right after his television went black, he heard the familiar high pitched noise of the building's old plumbing go up a few levels.
Simon wouldn't have thought anything of it if his apartment hadn't been dead quiet, and if he hadn't heard a small moan through the shared wall between you.
Simon's eyes widened as he listened, his ear turned towards the wall now so he could listen more closely. He could hear the harsh spray of your showerhead, his mind racing with what you could be using it for and where the stream was being directed on your body.
He felt a spark of something, and his body began to respond to the intimate sounds you were making that echoed into his apartment through the wall. His breathing began to slow and he closed his eyes, focusing on the sounds. He could hear your soft whimpering and short gasps even clearer now.
A lump began to form in his throat as his body continued to react, his heart racing with excitement. His hand instinctively went to his groin, his fingers tracing the outline of his growing arousal. He knew he shouldn't be standing there, his ear on the wall between you, his eyes closed, listening to you pleasure yourself in the shower-
But he just couldn't help himself. The sounds were drawing him in, making him feel like he was part of something intimate and-
Simon's eyes snapped open, and he moved away from the wall, trying to compose himself. He couldn't believe he was getting turned on by listening to his sweet, adorable, sweets-and-food gifting neighbor getting herself off in the shower. He needed to put some distance between you. He needed to get out of there, to clear his head and calm down.
He had taken the first step to move into another room when he heard a faint whisper through the wall.
"Oh, yeah..."
Back against the wall he was.
He couldn't move, couldn't breathe. He was stuck, his ears glued to the wall, listening to the sounds coming from the other side.
The sounds were getting louder, and Simon could hear you more clearly now. You were whimpering and moaning, your breathing a little shallower now.
He continued to listen, unable to move away. His breathing was ragged and sharp, his body reacting to every single noise on the other side of the wall.
Simon's hand went back down to the waistband of his jeans, his fingers tracing the material. He felt a shiver go down his spine as he realized what he was about to do, but he didn't stop himself.
He unbuttoned his jeans, his hands moving urgently as he listened to the sounds coming from the other side of the wall. He was getting more and more turned on as he heard your moans and whimpers growing louder, the sounds getting more frequent.
He shoved his jeans and boxers down in one swift movement, his other hand grasping his already rock-hard length.
He stroked himself slowly, his hand still pressed against the wall, his ear inches from the spot where your voice seemed to be coming from.
His eyes closed once more as he imagined what you might look like, pleasuring yourself in the shower, as he stroked his throbbing cock, already glistening at the tip with precum.
To keep his own pleasured sounds from getting too loud, in fear that you would hear him and maybe stop, he bit down on his own tongue, quickly tasting copper in his mouth as a muffled groan escaped his lips.
He imagined you in the shower, how wet you must be in so many ways, how slick your skin was as you touched yourself, and how much you wanted this, needed this release just as desperately as he did.
With a low growl, he began pumping his shaft faster, harder as he imagined your wet skin, your curves, your breasts, your ass... He could picture it all so vividly, thanks to the erotic symphony playing through the thin wall separating them.
He was stroking his thick, angry cock faster now, his hips rocking slightly, the sound of his own heavy breathing mingling with the distant echoes of your pleasure-filled cries.
"Fuck," he heard you whisper breathlessly before letting out a soft whine. You were getting close. He could tell.
So was he.
The sound of your moans grew louder, more urgent, and Simon found himself matching the rhythm of your strokes, pumping his own cock in time with your breathy pleas.
His grip tightened around his shaft, the veins bulging as he worked himself closer to the edge. The image of you touching yourself, lost in pleasure, fueled his desire, making him ache to be inside you.
He could almost taste you on his tongue, feel your slick heat enveloping him as he thrust deep. The fantasy was so real, so intoxicating, that he swore he could smell the sweet musk of your arousal carried through the thin partition.
A guttural groan tore from his throat as he quickened his pace, chasing his impending climax. Precum dripped steadily from the tip of his cock, leaving a sticky trail on his fist as he pumped faster, harder.
Then, he heard what he had been waiting for most of all, a sound he knew was coming but wasn't sure what exactly it would sound like. And it was more delicious than he could have ever imagined.
He heard you cry out through the wall, in the shower, as your orgasm washed over you. He really hoped that your sound of released pleasure distracted you enough to not notice his own.
Simon's entire world narrowed to the sound of your climax, a whine that seemed to pierce through the very fabric of his reality. It was the most beautiful thing he'd ever heard, and it shattered his last semblance of control.
He knew he was about to be loud. He needed to do something, fast, that wouldn’t mean biting his tongue or lip off-
Simon bit down on his clothed arm as he came undone, his orgasm ripping through him like a hurricane while the pain from biting his own arm threatened to tip the scales of pain and pleasure towards the former, but maybe that made him like it even more. Hot spurts of cum spurted from his cock, painting the wall he leaned against in thick, viscous streaks. His hips jerked erratically as he rode out the aftershocks, his vision flashing white behind clenched eyelids.
When Simon finally returned to Earth, he was left looking at the aftermath of his actions as he caught his breath, breathing in and out with his eyes closed, still listening intently through the wall just in case you had any more delicious sounds in you.
masterlist
#simon ghost riley#ghost cod#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon ghost x you#simon ghost x reader#simon riley#ghost mw2#call of duty#cod x reader#cod x you#cod x y/n#simon ghost riley x y/n#simon 'ghost' riley x y/n#simon riley x female reader#ghost smut#simon ghost smut#simon ghost riley smut
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I think the Batfamily knows how to cook. Its a useful life skill after all. But they all have their own ways of doing it.
Bruce only knows a few complicated dishes, and he does them well. He knows the favorite recipe of each of his kids, and he knows the family recipe he and his parents would make together when he was a child.
Dick does things quick and dirty in one pan, he knows the best way to heat up leftovers and have them taste equal or better than they did fresh.
Jason adds rich flavor to everything, knows exatly what flavors go with what and how to balance them. He's the best home cook and can make a good meal with limited ingredients.
Tim is the best at following recipes to a T, but can do a little improvisation if needed, or tweak a recipe to fit his expensive tastes, and he loves using cooking wine.
Steph is an experimentalist, she throws things together with little regaurd to anything and it somehow turns out tasty. Sometimes, she takes her food experiments to a chemical level.
Cass is excellent at making healthy, protein rich foods that fill you up and last you longer. Her cooking is always the best to have before a long fight.
Damian is new to cooking but his knife skills are impeccable. Everything is cut to the perfect shape, any shape he pleases. An apple as a bird or any other fun one, and he excells at making vegetarian tweaks to dishes.
The Batfamily can cook. But they also get distracted. Talking about case details, making fun of small mistakes from patrol or training. Little things they get caught up in that distract from stirring or watching the time until the smell of burning wafts through the house and Alfred is on the way to salvage what he can.
#batfam#batman#dc comics#dcu#dc universe#dick grayson#richard grayson#jason todd#tim drake#stephanie brown#cassandra cain#damian wayne#alfred pennyworth#king speaks
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Miniature dog and khait effigies for a Wardi funeral. These are clay figurines that have been painted and decorated with great care by a skilled artist. Both include real hairs from the individual animals they have been modeled after. The dog is collared, showing that it is a loyal pet rather than a lowly feral scrounger. The khait is fully bridled and ready to carry the deceased in their journey.
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It is believed that the souls of the deceased, once freed of their bodies, undergo a month-long journey to reach rebirth in the lunar lands. This journey is full of perils. It begins in the realm of the earth where the soul is naked and vulnerable and traveling through complete darkness. Evil spirits dwell within this realm and may try to capture the soul or lead them astray, and the way is twisting and obscured in shadows. Even after escaping this darkness, the soul still must travel an arduous and winding path through the realm of the sky in order to reach their destination.
A khait and a dog are traditionally offered as funerary goods (in addition to food, water, wine, clothing, weapons, and other needs) to assist the soul in their travels- the khait will ease their passage in their long journey and carry them swiftly, and the dog will navigate through earthly darkness and dense cloud by scent, and protect the soul from harm.
Ideally, one of the deceased's own living khait and hunting/guard dogs will be killed at the funeral (typically the most beloved of their animals, as who would be better company than that?) so that they can have familiar and loyal helpers in their lonely journey. However, there are tremendous class barriers to ownership and disposability of a khait, and well-bred working dogs (while significantly more accessible) aren't ubiquitously available, and many people do not consider captured feral dogs to be a worthy replacement. As such, funerals with full animal offerings tend to be limited to higher status individuals.
Everyday people still need protection on their journeys, and animal effigies can be appropriate replacements for the real thing. These effigies are usually designed with great specificity to represent known individual animals that have already died (often including the animal's actual hair, as seen here). The soul of the represented animal will recognize the effigy as its body, and can be called into the icon so that it may accompany the deceased. These effigies (along with any other necessary grave goods) will be placed onto the pyre and burned along with the body so that the traveling soul will be sent off with everything they need.
Some folk traditions have semi-legendary local animal spirits who will be represented instead of a personally familiar animal. This often develops around a small community 'sharing' one historically extant animal for their funeral effigies as a matter of practicality, developing a sense of attachment to this animal as an aspect of shared identity, and adding layers of legend to the animal's story with the passage of time.
For example, a very popular legendary guide in the northeastern rural parts of Ephennos is Chisnops-Inreña (which very closely translates to 'Orange Son Of A Bitch'), a legendary livestock guardian dog. The animal was said to have been the biggest, meanest, ugliest motherfucker around, but was an unshakably loyal and fierce guardian, as noble as a dog (not the noblest of animals by any means) can possibly be. He is said to have fought off everything from jackals to lions to cattle thieves in his day, and died protecting his herdsman master from an infamous man-eating king hyena, only succumbing to his own wounds when the great beast lay dead. His spirit was later used as a guide in his master's funeral, and local legend states that the same spirit has been seen following herdsmen and their cattle ever since, as not even death could keep him from his duties. Such a dog would make an excellent guide and protector in the journey to the afterlife, and effigies of him are favored in the funerals of northeastern Ephenni pastoralists.
A lovingly crafted Orange Son Of A Bitch
#Partly a rehash of prev post BUT WITH PICS!!!!!!!#chisnops more literally means 'bitch-born'. The word 'bitch' doesn't have the same breadth of connotations as in english#and pretty directly means 'female dog' but calling someone 'chisnops' is functionally Very close to 'son of a bitch'#Inrenna is a color word for orange. Most of the western Wardi dialects pronounce double N syllables like ñ (in- /rey/ - nya)#while others will enunciate like 'in- /reyn/- nah'. Spelled it inreña here to indicate Ephenni dialect
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Tavern Owner Orc x New Hire Reader
I got to participate in the lovely Ozzgin's Secret Santa Event!! This one is for @tranquilo-antique-apothecary!!
Content is about 1K words of him being down bad for you <3
Sekkrad has always liked the bustling atmosphere of taverns, rich with rambunctious laughter and delicious food. After every win or loss, Sekkrad and his comrades would settle down at their favorite tavern, almost as if it were their second home. Maybe that was why he decided to open a quaint tavern after retiring from his warrior duties.
Despite his retirement, Sekkrad has always kept himself in shape. Working out has been engraved into his body, but beyond that, it’s also because his patrons can get quite rowdy at times. Plus, it’s helpful to be athletic when you’re working as much as he is. That said…
He really could use some help.
So, he puts up a flyer seeking an employee. As expected, there are some pretty good candidates. What’s unexpected, however, is you. You’re just so cute that Sekkrad literally stopped thinking when he first saw you walk through the tavern’s doors. He’s not even sure how he got through interviewing you, but somehow he did. And, just his luck, you’re a great candidate – exactly what he’s looking for! A good personality, a solid resume, and a cute face… so of course he hires you.
But on second thought – maybe it wasn’t his best idea. You look too adorable in the tavern’s uniform (that uniform does not usually look that good). And he practically blanks out every time you’re around him. You just look so soft and huggable. Plus that smile? It’s a killer. Thankfully, he somehow manages to guide you through your tasks and answer questions with a blank face (that he is desperately trying to control).
As he’s mulling about how he’s supposed to act around you, he notices you struggling to reach up to get a bottle of bourbon on one of the shelves. Without a second thought, he reaches over you, pressing his muscular body against your softer one.
“Here,” he grunts, voice low, as sirens whir in his head over how good your body feels against his. It’s like you fit perfectly against him.
“Thank you!” you respond, smile bright. Oh, Gods. You’re going to kill him.
He nods. “If y’need anything else, let me know.”
With that said, he moves to the storage in the back. He almost slams his head into the bag of flour, but reigns himself in after remembering how expensive flour is nowadays. Instead, he picks up some more syrup for his cocktails, willing himself to behave.
Despite the turmoil your presence brings to him, he manages to get through the day with relative ease. Hiring you really was the right choice – you’re an excellent worker. Smart, quick on the uptake, easy on the eyes – you’re just the perfect hire.
As he closes shop, wiping a wine glass clean, he watches as you wipe down the last table, a feeling of fondness spreading through his chest at how much of a hard worker you are. As you finish up, he prepares a sweet cocktail for you, before motioning you over.
“Good job,” he says, passing the cocktail to you.
“Thank you!”
He nods, motioning for you to sit. “Wait there.”
“Yessir,” you respond, saluting before you sit down. You watch as he disappears into the kitchen in the back, the sweet taste of your cocktail spreading over your tongue pleasantly.
It only takes him a few moments to come back with a plate of warm food. He places it in front of you.
“Eat up,” he murmurs, crossing his arms. “You were a great help today.”
Your cheeks heat up, making Sekkrad want to scream – you’re just so stinking adorable.
“I’m glad!” you beam, making his lips twitch up into a smile involuntarily.
The way you eat his food also makes him feel warm and happy – it’s always a treat when someone enjoys his food.
“It was delicious!” you tell him once you’re done eating.
“Let me know what y’like to eat,” he says, looking pleased as you polish off his food. “I’ll make it for you next time.”
Eagerly, you tell him your favorite food, which he files away for later. He takes your empty dishes, which you try to protest, saying that you’ll clean up after yourself. He’s having none of it, though, and cleans up promptly as you finish off your cocktail.
“I’ll walk you home,” he offers while wiping his hands off on his apron. “It’s late.”
“Oh, I couldn’t possibly impose.”
Sekkrad doesn’t want to seem pushy, not when he really doesn’t want you to hate him, but he’s more concerned for your safety than anything. “You wouldn’t be imposing,” he replies, trying to make his voice softer. “I just want t’make sure my new hire’s safe.”
“Well…” you look up at him and Sekkrad has to look behind you so that he won’t combust. “...I’d appreciate it, thank you! I’ll go get my things.”
“Yeah,” he responds, watching as you go to the back to get your things. When you reappear, he straightens his back, motioning to the door. “Ready?”
“Yessir!” you say, starting your journey back to your home.
Your walk back with him is quiet and peaceful as everyone else is asleep. That, and Sekkrad has never been much of a talker, but he’s especially nervous around you. He’s not entirely sure how he’s supposed to talk to you, so he opts not to. Besides, you seem content to walk beside him quietly (and it’s just… nice to see how comfortable you look beside him). Despite his nervousness, he’s actually pretty content himself.
In fact, when you two arrive at your home, Sekkrad is almost disappointed. Still, he got you home safe and nothing was really amiss, so he can’t complain.
“Rest up,” he says, nodding at you. “I’ll see you at night.”
“I’ll be there dark and early,” you grin.
He can’t help but crack a smile at that. “Good.”
With a small laugh and a final wave, you enter your home. Sekkrad lingers until he’s fully sure you’re safe inside, before turning his heels to walk back to the tavern with light steps.
He really, really can’t wait to see you again.
#tsuuper ocs#monster boyfriend#orc oc#orc x reader#orc tavern owner#monster boy oc#Sekkrad Barai Tsuu OC#monster x reader#orc boyfriend#idk what else to tag this lol???
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Astrology Observations #2
🩵Mutable risings are constantly changing up their looks because they love experimenting with different aesthetics, whereas fixed risings tend to stick with the same look or a couple of looks throughout their life. They're not as comfortable with outward change.
🩵Mars in the 1st house makes someone a natural athlete and can excel in sports. Also a great placement for dancers.
🩵Saturn in the 1st house and/or Capricorn/Aquarius Rising age like fine wine. They often tend to be late bloomers as well who can feel awkward and uncomfortable with themselves in their early years, but start to grow more into their confidence later in life, specifically after their first Saturn return.
🩵Gemini Venus are so playful and flirty in their relationships. Humor and lightheartedness have to be prominent for them in their relationships to feel loved.
🩵Sun (the father) or Moon (the mother) in the 12th house can indicate that parent dying early in your life or it can represent them being emotionally or physically absent as well. It's spooky how many charts I've seen where this is the case. (I know death is a sensitive topic, so I don't want to freak anyone out by saying this placement is a 100% indicator of a physical death, because it isn't).
🩵I know Taurus' loving food is a huge stereotype, but it's so true! Every Taurus sun in my life loves to go out to eat, cook, or be cooked for and it's their love language. They can also be super big on physical touch such as massages and hugs. They're all about the senses.
🩵Leo moons tend to be the comedians of their family or friend group. They're the ones everyone relies on to bring the fun and playful energy. They really shine a light in people's lives.
🩵Jupiter transiting the 5th house the same time as a Venus return is a super powerful transit for love and romance. I've seen charts where this indicated marriage, meeting a long-term partner, or starting a new relationship.
🩵When it comes to transits, Saturn is the most important planet to look at imo because it's the planet of timing. Looking back on every time Saturn made a conjunction with one of my personal planets or angles, it highlighted a significant event/theme in my life.
🩵Someone having their moon in your 1st house you may notice that these are the people you find yourself easily letting your guard down around. It's easy and comfortable to be with them. This is a great placement for friendship.
🩵You may find yourself feeling soul-bonded to a pet who has their sun as your moon. My cat is a Pisces sun and I'm a Pisces moon and I've never felt such a strong connection to a pet before. He's my actual baby.
🩵Saturn in the 5th house typically aren't interested in having kids. They may feel incredibly overwhelmed by the pressures and responsibilities that come with raising children. If they decide to have kids, their kids can bring out a very karmic energy in them and can exasperate wounds from their own childhood. This can manifest as a positive or negative experience depending on the sign it's in and other aspects.
🩵Check where your 4th house ruler is in your chart. It can further indicate what your childhood was like. For example, I have an empty Gemini 4th house, but my 4th house ruler is in Mercury in my Scorpio 8th house making a conjunction with my Chiron and I had a very dark and traumatic upbringing.
🩵Nobody knows overthinking like a Virgo sun and/or mercury knows overthinking. Their brain is constantly thinking about what can go wrong in any given situation, scanning everything they need to check off from their mental to-do list before they can allow themselves to relax, and will bring up a specific worry you haven't even thought about. I only have a Virgo mars and that's enough Virgo energy in my chart for me. They are the living embodiment of anxiety.
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Louis M. Martini Winery, St. Helena (No. 1)
The winery was founded by Louis M. Martini, who was born in Genoa, Italy, and immigrated to the United States in 1900 at the age of 13 to join his father in San Francisco. He spoke no English and had little formal education. At age 19 he returned to Italy to study winemaking. On his return, he and his father went into the wine business with others, eventually establishing the L.M. Martini Grape Products Company. Because of Prohibition, it sold only non-alcoholic and sacramental products.
Anticipating the end of Prohibition, Martini looked for a location suitable for growing grapes for the dry wines he preferred. He chose the Napa Valley and purchased a 10-acre prune orchard in St. Helena, planted it with vineyards, and established the Louis M. Martini Winery. He began to sell wine on December 5, 1933, the first day such sale was legally allowed. He introduced or promoted multiple changes that are now common practice, such as growing grapes on hillsides, favoring dry wines rather than the sweet wines which were then more popular, and labeling wines with variety and vintage at a time when most wines were bottled as generics. He was a founder of the Napa Valley Vintners Association in 1943.
Source: Wikipedia
#Louis M. Martini Winery#254 St Helena Hwy#Napa Valley#Napa County#wine country#Bay Area#I'll be back this summer#summer 2022#travel#original photography#vacation#tourist attraction#landmark#architecture#landscape#flowers#excellent food and wine#USA#California#West Coast#olive tree#rose#light and shadow
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Unattached Drifter Christmas
Pairing: Dean Winchester x plus size!reader
Summary: Dean decides he’d rather spend Valentine’s Day curled up on the couch with you.
Warnings: Cursing, use of pet names. SMUT, unprotected sex (P in V), oral (M & F receiving)
A/N: in honor of Valentine’s Day, I gift you an adorable Dean Winchester fluffy smutty delight. 💜
"What are your plans, Sammy?" you asked from your perch on the kitchen counter.
"I happen to have a date," he replied with a smirk.
"Oooo with whom?"
"Just a nice local girl I met at the library last week."
"Sam Winchester and the nice local girl...sounds like a book I'd read," you teased.
He rolled his eyes and threw a dish towel at you. "What about you?"
"I have an excellent night planned," you confirmed. "Since Dean will be out cruising for ladies to go home with, I figured I could steal the Dean Cave for the night. I'm ordering a pizza, watching scary movies, eating a shit ton of junk food, and washing it all down with a bottle of wine."
Sam laughed. "Now that sounds like a party."
"Someone say 'party'?" Dean asked as he entered the kitchen.
"We were just discussing our Valentine's Day plans," Sam responded.
"You celebrating Unattached Drifter Christmas?" you asked in a teasing tone.
Dean shrugged and grabbed a beer out of the fridge. "Nahh, I think I'm gonna sit this year out. I'd rather stay home."
"Awww man," you grumbled.
Dean looked at you with an arched brow. "Is that a problem?"
"No," you answered quickly. "It just puts a bit of a wrench in my plans."
"And what are your plans?" he asked.
"I was gonna take over the Dean Cave for the night--scary movie marathon, pizza, snacks, alcohol."
"Pizza, snacks, and alcohol is my holy trinity," Dean said with a wide smirk. "Would you be opposed to me crashing your party?"
"You hate scary movies," you said.
"Yeah, but you love them," he countered. "I'm the crasher, so I'm not gonna demand a change in movie genre."
You smiled at him. "Alright, then you can come. I'll even supply beer."
Dean winked at you. "The way to my heart," he teased.
You rolled your eyes and hopped off the counter. "Oh, did Sam mention he has a date tonight?"
Sam shot you a look and you hurried out of the kitchen, laughing quietly as Dean started to tease his brother.
"A date, baby bro? Look at you!"
**********
You'd sent Dean to pick up the pizza while you set up the Dean Cave for the evening's festivities. You'd made a run to the grocery store earlier in the day to pick up yours and Dean's favorite snacks, as well as a decent supply of wine and beer.
You were more than satisfied with your selections, but for some reason you felt anxious. Well...to be honest, you knew the reason. You hadn't expected Dean to be staying home and you certainly didn't count on him joining you for the evening.
You'd known Dean for a little over five years and in that time you'd grown to care about him deeply, more than you should. He was a genuinely good person underneath his gruff exterior, a facade he had dropped with you long ago.
If you were completely honest with yourself, you knew you loved him, but you would never say anything to him. You knew him too well. Dean had lost virtually everyone he'd ever loved and he blamed himself for their deaths. He avoided romantic relationships like the plague because he didn't want to add another name to the body count. It was hard enough for him to bring you into his life as a friend, and there was no way he would risk anything more than that.
So of course, you kept your mouth shut, hiding your feelings from both Winchesters. The only person that knew how you felt was Jody and she would take that secret to the grave if you wanted her to. You would rather have Dean as a friend than lose him completely.
You tossed your favorite oversized blanket onto the couch with a sigh. You were trying not to think about curling up next to Dean for a movie marathon on freaking Valentine's Day of all days. You knew it was the romantic nature of the day itself that had your stomach in knots. You'd watched movies and binge ate with Dean countless times before without issue, but there was an added intensity to this instance simply because it happened to be February 14th.
You also couldn't help but wonder why Dean wasn't planning on going out. You couldn't remember the last time he neglected to celebrate 'Unattached Drifter Christmas' as he'd always called it. In fact, Dean hadn't been out to pick up a girl in weeks...you were struggling to recall the last time Dean didn't decline a girl's invitation to come home with her.
"I've brought sustenance!" The man in question spoke from behind you, startling you out of your thoughts.
"Jesus!" you yelped.
Dean chuckled lightly. "Sorry, sweetheart. Didn't mean to scare you."
You shot him a look that clearly said 'I wasn't scared', which only caused him to laugh harder.
You tossed a piece of popcorn at him and headed towards the door. "I'm gonna change into comfy clothes before we get started."
"Good idea," he agreed, placing the pizza down on the table before following you out the door.
Five minutes later, you came back into the Dean Cave wearing your most comfortable leggings and an oversized worn out band tee you'd had for at least a decade. You'd opted to forgo a bra for comfort's sake and you hoped Dean wouldn't notice.
Dean was already sitting on the couch, wearing his gray sweatpants and a plain black tee. It was almost offensive how hot he looked in that outfit--no man had any right to look that good in sweatpants.
When you walked in, Dean's gaze traveled from the TV to you. You noticed his pupils dilate slightly as he looked at you, but you figured that was due to the change in light.
You plopped down on the couch beside him, leaving plenty of space between the two of you to avoid any awkwardness. "Ready to be terrified?" you teased.
Dean groaned softly. "You know I'm only watching these because you love them."
You grinned and snagged the remote from him. "They're so good!"
"Our life is a scary movie," he grumbled. "I don't know why you like these."
"I think that's actually why I like them. Our real lives are full of the kind of shit that would make people lose their minds, but for us, it's just another Tuesday. These movies are either cheesy as hell or have an exaggerated version of a monster we have hunted and killed--so it becomes entertaining instead of scary."
Dean raised an eyebrow and shook his head. "Or you're crazy."
You smiled at him and shot him a wink. "That's just an added bonus."
He rolled his eyes and grabbed a slice of pizza. As he shoveled food into his mouth, you opened up a streaming service and typed in the name of the first movie you wanted to watch.
"You remember The Conjuring right? And Annabelle?"
"Yeah," he answered. "That Annabelle one was creepy as hell."
You grinned. "Well this one is in the same universe and I've been dying to watch it."
You pressed play on the remote and the opening credits of The Nun began to play. You snuggled up under the blanket and sighed contentedly, a piece of pizza in one hand and a glass of wine in the other.
Dean glanced at you and couldn't help the soft smile that graced his lips. It was rare he got to see you truly happy and content, so this was a moment he intended to fully savor. He studied your face, desperate to commit it to memory, unwilling to forget how beautiful you looked in this moment.
He sighed softly and closed his eyes, still picturing your face clearly in his mind. It brought another smile to his lips and he breathed in deeply, smelling a mixture of your shampoo and your perfume. He wanted you to be closer to him, but he didn't want to make you uncomfortable.
He made a split second decision and voiced his request aloud, "It's a little chilly in here. Do you mind sharing the blanket with me?" He wasn't cold at all, but he thought it might get you to move closer to him to share.
"Oh! Sure." You smiled and scooted in his direction, holding the edge of the blanket out to him.
He took it and started to cover himself. "You're gonna need to come a little closer, sweetheart," he said with a chuckle. "I need a bit more coverage."
You laughed and moved even closer to him so your arms were now touching. "Better?" you teased.
"Much," he affirmed.
You tried to keep your body relaxed and focused on the movie, but Dean's proximity was overwhelming your senses. You could smell his aftershave, feel his body heat, and see the rise and fall of his chest much more clearly than before. The simple act of a man breathing should not be a turn on...yet here you were.
You shifted slightly as you felt a familiar wave of heat pool in your belly. Not now, you thought to yourself.
"You okay, doll?" Dean asked softly.
His voice sounded lower than before, huskier even, and you had to bite your lip to keep from audibly moaning. As it was, you could feel the slick gathering between your legs, which was mortifying enough.
"I'm fine," you lied, shifting again.
Dean wrapped his arm around your shoulders and tugged you into his side. "Come 'ere," he muttered. "Get comfortable."
You gasped softly at the sudden movement, but you allowed him to pull you closer. You laid your head against his chest and sighed quietly. You had to admit, it was a much more comfortable position to be in, even if it increased your longing.
"Better?" he whispered, echoing your earlier question.
"Yeah," you mumbled.
Dean smiled down at you even though you couldn't see it. He liked this new position--he liked holding you. He knew he was crossing boundaries he'd never intended to cross, but his feelings had become unbearable as of late.
He couldn't remember a moment when he didn't want you and it was getting harder to remember a time when he didn't love you. The last couple months had been hell on his heart and he was starting to break. He hid it from everyone, especially you, but he knew he couldn't do that for much longer.
His random hookups had stopped alleviating his desire to be with you, instead increasing that need tenfold after every encounter. So he stopped hooking up with women altogether. He'd considered moving out of the bunker for a while to get away, but he couldn't do that to Sam or to you.
He found himself in a predicament he'd been trying to avoid for years and the walls he'd built around his heart had started to crumble. There was nothing he wouldn't do to keep you safe--he'd rip out his own still-beating heart if he had to--but he couldn't find the strength to stop loving you. No matter what he did, his love only grew.
It wasn't fair to you and he knew he shouldn't love you, shouldn't tell you, shouldn't pull you into something with him that would almost certainly get you killed, but his own pain was becoming too much. The physical ache in his chest when you were apart was beginning to impact every part of his life, including hunting. He'd be lying if he said it didn't terrify him, but he couldn't fight his feelings any longer.
"(Y/N)?" Dean asked softly.
"Hmm?" you hummed, eyes still trained on the TV.
"Can you look at me, sweetheart?" he murmured.
You shifted your head to look up at him. You were struck by how brilliantly green his irises looked in the dimly lit room, your lips parting slightly in surprise.
Dean's heart was hammering in his chest so quickly he was certain you could hear it. When your pretty (y/e/c) eyes met his, he was immediately lost in them--adrift in an ocean of (y/e/c).
He knew this was it--it was now or never...he could either take the leap or let his pain drown him in loneliness. He chose the former. He lowered his head the short distance to place a soft, warm kiss against your lips.
The moment you felt his lips on yours, it was like the world stopped spinning. Suddenly there was nothing but you and Dean--nothing else existed, nothing else mattered. Just you and Dean.
When your lips began to move against his, returning his kiss, he groaned happily. His hands grabbed at your torso, seeking comfort in your soft flesh. He tugged you towards him, and you shifted your body to straddle his lap, lips never leaving his.
In your new position, you could feel his hardening member pressing against your clothed core. You ground against him, earning a moan from deep in his throat. His hands tightened their grip on your hips and your nails dug into his shoulders as the sensation sent a bolt of electricity through you.
Dean's hands snaked under your shirt and he began tugging it upwards in an attempt to remove it. The logical part of your brain suddenly kicked back on and you grabbed his hand to stop him.
"Dean--wait," you gasped, pulling away from him slightly.
His eyes widened and his body tensed. He quickly removed his hands from your body and held them up in surrender. "I'm sorry, we can stop. I--"
You shook your head. "I just need...I need to say something." You bit your lip. "I don't wanna be a one night stand or a friends with benefits thing. I-I can't, Dean. I can't."
The pain in your voice nearly broke his heart. He wanted to reassure you, but he wasn't sure you would believe him. He had a reputation and it was Valentine's Day...what were the odds you'd believe him?
"(Y/N), listen to me," he said gently, taking your hands in his. "I would never ever make you to do something you didn't want to do...and I would never purposefully hurt you. I need you to know that. Do you know that, (Y/N/N)?"
"Yes," you whispered, nodding slowly.
"Good...because I mean it. I can't do any more one night stands or casual hookups or friends with benefits situations. I can't handle any of those things anymore than I can pretend I don't need you. And I do need you, (Y/N/N). I need you in every way a person can possibly need another...mentally, emotionally, physically--all of it. You're the best part of my fucked up life and I don't want to lose you."
It was rare to see Dean so open and vulnerable. This was one of the very few times you'd been witness to it, but this was, by far, the most emotional moment you'd ever shared with him. You wanted to respond, to say all the things you'd carried in your heart for years, but you couldn't think of a single word to say.
Your silence dragged on long enough that Dean began to worry he'd crossed a line he shouldn't have...a line he couldn't uncross. "Please, (Y/N)," he begged. "Say something."
"I'm sorry," you said quickly, realizing you'd been silent too long. Dean's face fell and you knew he believed you were about to reject him. You placed your hands against his chest in a calming manner, desperate to infuse your love in the touch.
"You're not going to lose me, Dean," you assured him. "I'm not going anywhere...my place is here, with you. This is where I belong--where I want to be. Wherever you are is home to me."
He didn't need grand gestures or romantic poetry. He didn't need some eloquent speech about how much you loved him. All he needed was to hear your sweet voice saying he was your 'home' and he was a goner.
When his lips met yours for the second time, everything felt different. It was as if all the moments of his life before this were in black and white and he was seeing in color for the first time. He felt alive in a way he'd forgotten--whole, in a way he'd never experienced.
He'd had very few positive relationships in his past and most of them ended bloody. He'd thought he'd been in love before, but those feelings paled in comparison to the way he felt about you. This was love, a love so real--so lasting--it was branded into his very soul.
His fingers gripped the edge of your shirt again and this time, you allowed him to remove it. "Fuck," he groaned, hungry eyes trained on your naked chest. "No bra?"
"I wanted to be comfortable."
His large, calloused hands gripped your heavy breasts and he gently kneaded the supple flesh. "I want my girl to be comfortable all the time," he murmured. "So I think we should burn all your bras."
Your soft chuckle morphed into a moan as his lips found one of your nipples. You rolled your hips against him, a soft gasp escaping your lips.
Dean wanted to take his time with you and he was thoroughly enjoying his current activities, but it seemed you had other plans in mind.
"Dean," you whined. "Need you."
He gave your nipple one last gentle lick before lifting his head. "I'm right here, baby."
You rolled your hips against his throbbing cock and he groaned. Clearly you wanted more and he was in no position to deny you anything.
He gripped you tightly and stood up. You yelped in surprise and wrapped your legs around his waist. He turned around so your back was to the couch and he slowly lowered you down, placing you on the couch in front of him. He kneeled down and looked up at you, eyes dark with desire.
His hands slid slowly up your thighs, coming to a stop at the hem of your pants. "Can I take these off?"
You nodded rapidly.
He smirked and began to peel your leggings down at a painfully slow pace. You whined in annoyance, but Dean simply smiled. "Patience, sweetheart."
Finally, your pants, and subsequently your underwear, were tossed onto the floor, leaving you completely bare before him. There was a small part of you that felt self-conscious being naked in front of Dean. It was always uncomfortable for you the first time you found yourself in this position with a new man, but Dean was different. You weren't sure if it was the hunger in his gaze, the affection he clearly had for you, or the love you felt for him...you felt safe, you felt comfortable, and you felt loved. That was all that mattered.
Dean licked his lips in anticipation as he slowly spread your legs, revealing your soaking wet pussy to him. He groaned softly, spreading your legs wider to get an even better view.
"Now that's the prettiest pussy I've ever seen," he murmured. He slid a finger between your folds to collect some of your juices before bringing the finger to his mouth. He sucked it clean with a moan of enjoyment. "Delicious."
Before you had time to react, Dean had grabbed your hips and dragged you forward so you were closer to the edge of the couch. His mouth was on you in an instant, feasting on you like he might never eat again.
Your head fell back against the cushion and soft moans began to stream from your lips. Your legs rested on his shoulders and your hand gripped his hair tightly. Salacious sounds filled the room and you were glad Sam was gone for the night. You had a feeling it was only going to get louder.
Dean's experience in the bedroom was very evident as he ate you out. He was extremely skilled, but more importantly he paid attention to you. He was desperate to learn exactly what drove you wild and he wouldn't stop until he'd mapped out all of your pleasure points.
"Dean," you gasped softly, grip on his hair tightening.
He knew you were close, the way your legs began to tremble and your grip on his hair indicating your impending orgasm like a flashing neon sign.
His fingers dug into your hips, holding you in place so you couldn't squirm away. With expert precision, Dean spelled his own full name against your clit with his tongue, sending you into a spiral of moaning, shaking bliss.
Dean continued to lap up your juices as you came down, and to your surprise, he didn't stop, even as you began to tug on his hair in earnest. "Please, Dean! Too much," you pleaded.
Dean sucked your little bundle of nerves into his mouth and slipped two fingers inside of you. He quickly found your sweet spot and began to drag his fingers along it repeatedly. The shock waves of pleasure had you changing your pleas to moans in seconds.
Your pussy gripped his fingers like iron and he couldn't wait to feel you grip his cock in the same fashion. He hadn't even been inside you yet and he already knew he would never want another woman's body the way he wanted yours.
"Dean!" you cried out, thick thighs squeezing his head, hips gyrating against his mouth as you came once again.
He lapped up everything you had to give him hungrily--wishing he could stay between your legs forever. This time, however, he allowed you to pull him up by his hair.
You were completely breathless, chest rising and falling rapidly. Dean licked his lips and wondered how sexy you'd look riding him, breasts bouncing as he slammed up into you.
"I think," you mumbled, "you have...too much...clothing on."
He laughed at your breathless remark. He had to agree with your sentiment, so he stood up and removed his shirt quickly. When he stood, you were rewarded with a nice view of his erection pressing against the confines of his sweats.
He smiled at you and slowly lowered his pants, revealing his very large member. The tip was red and throbbing, precum leaking from the slit. You licked your lips and eyed him hungrily, wanting to wrap your lips around it with a desperation that surprised you.
"Sit," you begged.
Dean smirked and obliged, sitting down beside you. You slid off the couch and crawled the short distance to settle between his legs.
Your soft hands wrapped around his cock and he groaned softly. "You're so big," you whispered.
"Your hands are small," he teased.
"But my mouth isn't."
Dean didn't have the time to process your sassy comment before your mouth wrapped around him and you began to suck his cock in earnest.
"Holy fuck-" he groaned, head falling back against the cushion.
He tangled his hand in your hair and gently guided your head as you began to take his cock deeper into your throat. You flexed the back of your tongue as you did so and he groaned loudly.
Having gotten the reaction you'd desired, you did the same move a couple more times, allowing his cock to almost leave your mouth before sucking him deep into your throat.
His grip on your hair tightened and his hips thrust forward, causing you to gag slightly. Instead of trying to lift off him, you breathed deeply through your nose and held steady, relaxing your throat as best as you could.
"Baby, you're doing so good for me," Dean murmured. "Making me feel amazing."
You moaned around his cock and reached between his legs to cup his balls and give them a gentle squeeze. His hips bucked slightly at the action, causing you to smirk.
You continued to suck his cock until he tugged your hair a little more harshly. "You gotta stop, doll, or I'm gonna cum."
You hummed in disappointment, but allowed him to pull you off his cock with a soft popping sound. He looked down at you with lust filled eyes and beckoned you towards him.
"Come up here, baby. I wanna touch you," he begged.
You climbed onto the couch with him, straddling his legs once again. You lowered yourself slowly, rubbing his cock against your wet core. You leaned forward to kiss him and repeated the action. He moaned against your lips before pressing his tongue against them, demanding entry.
You parted your lips and kissed him deeply, allowing his tongue to assert dominance. The kiss was passionate and loving, but the fire that burned inside of both of you in that moment only cared about pleasure.
"I need to be inside you," Dean whispered against your lips.
"Please," you begged him, rutting against him once more.
He gripped his cock tightly and lined himself up with your entrance. Once the tip pressed against your tight opening, he released his grip, hands settling on your hips to help guide you down.
You moaned softly as you continued to lower yourself onto his cock--the stretch both painful and enjoyable all at once. He was larger than you were accustomed to, both in girth and in length, and it almost felt as if you were a virgin all over again.
You had to lean forward, pressing your body against his for support as you lowered yourself down completely. You'd never felt so full, your toes curled at the mere feeling.
"You okay, baby?" Dean murmured, hands gently rubbing soothing circles into your back as he allowed you time to adjust.
"Never better," you whispered in reply.
You pulled yourself up into a proper sitting position and gasped as he somehow sank even deeper into you.
Dean worried he'd hurt you until he saw the look in your eye. His concern quickly turned to a smirk of pride. He pressed his hand against your lower abdomen and growled, "You feel that, baby? I'm so deep inside you, you'll be feeling me for days."
You moaned softly, his words having the desired effect on you. You rolled your hips a little and he hissed softly.
"Fuck, doll."
He gripped your hips as you started to move, bouncing up and down on his cock slowly.
His lips attached themselves to your jaw, your neck, your collarbone--anywhere he could reach. He was reveling in the feeling of your soft body against his muscular one, your curves providing him with plenty of flesh to hold on to.
"You feel so good, baby," he moaned in your ear. "Pussy squeezing me so tight--can hardly breathe."
"Feels good, Dean," you whimper.
"Yeah, baby? You like the way my cock feels in your pretty little pussy? Stretching you just right--you were made for me."
You preened at the praise, which only made him want to praise you more.
"This perfect body of yours makes me feel so good, sweetheart. You take my cock so well. Wanna stay here forever just making you feel good--listening to those sweet sounds you make. Fuck, never wanna stop."
You loved his praise, but your thighs were starting to get tired from the exertion. Dean could feel you slowing down, so he pulled you forward, pressing your chest flush against his.
"I've got you, baby. Let me take over," he whispered.
You gripped his shoulders and nodded, more than willing to allow him to take control.
As soon as he felt your body relax against him, he planted his feet firmly on the floor and began to piston up into you. He held you tightly against him to prevent you from moving too much.
"Dean!" you cried, nails digging into his shoulders.
His cock pressed into your g-spot with each thrust and in a matter of moments, you were teetering on the edge of another orgasm.
"Can feel you squeezing me, baby. You gonna cum for me? Huh?" Dean asked huskily. "You gonna coat my cock with your sweet cum, baby? Cum for me, sweet girl. Wanna feel it."
You loved the way he begged and it had you coming undone in an instant. You screamed his name as your walls fluttered around his cock. It took all of his focus not to cum along with you.
"That's my good girl," he whispered. "I'm gonna cum soon, doll. Where you want it?"
"Inside me," you begged. "Please, Dean--fill me up."
"Oh, fuck-" Dean moaned loudly as he came, coating your walls with his seed.
After a few more thrusts, Dean stilled. He continued to hold you tightly against him, needing to feel you close to him as he came down from his high.
He rubbed your back soothingly and placed a soft kiss to your damp hairline. "You were so good for me, (Y/N/N)."
You kissed his shoulder. "Felt so good, Dean."
He smiled and squeezed you tighter. He sighed contentedly, enjoying the feeling of the woman he loved pressed against his chest.
His cock had begun to soften and his cum was leaking out of you and onto his thighs, but he couldn't be bothered. Taking care of you was his one and only priority.
"Do you need some water, sweetheart?" he asked softly.
You shook your head.
"Food?"
You shook your head again.
"Tell me what you need, baby," he begged.
You finally lifted your head to look him in his eyes. "I know it's cliché to say I love you after sex, but I don't care. I love you, Dean...I love you wholly and completely."
Dean nearly breathed a sigh of relief at your admission. "I can't even begin to express how happy it makes me to hear you say those words. I've been pushing the feeling down for years, but I can't do it anymore, (Y/N). I love you with everything I have--it might not be much, but it's yours. You have me forever--mind, body, and soul."
You smiled and gently caressed his cheek. He leaned into your touch and closed his eyes. You kissed him softly, which he immediately returned in kind.
When you separated, you noticed a mischievous glint in his bright green eyes. "Dean?"
"What are your thoughts about round two in my bedroom?"
You laughed lightly. "Are you gonna kick me out of your bed at 2am?"
"Not if you don't snore," he teased.
You smacked his shoulder affectionately and he laughed. "You're lucky you're so damn cute."
He grinned. "Actually, I'm adorable."
You rolled your eyes playfully. "You know, I think I like the idea of round two."
Dean smiled and pulled you even closer. "Hold onto me, sweetheart."
You gripped him tightly and he stood up, holding you to his chest. You wrapped your legs around his waist and he headed towards his bedroom.
When he entered his room, he gently tossed you onto the bed, earning a soft giggle from your lips. He climbed on top of you, pressing sweet kisses to your skin for several moments before finally kissing your soft lips.
"I'm glad you skipped 'Unattached Drifter Christmas' this year," you murmured.
He smiled. "Me too, baby. I think it's more 'Attached Drifter Christmas' now."
You laughed. "I love you, you dork."
He kissed you again. "Not as much as I love you."
The two of you spent the next couple hours continuing to explore each other's bodies, experiencing blinding pleasure over and over again.
Nothing could ever compare to the love you felt for each other, and in spite of everything, you both fell asleep in the comfort of each other's arms, dreaming of the beautiful future ahead.
#supernatural#dean winchester smut#dean winchester#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester x reader smut#dean winchester x plus size!reader smut#dean winchester x plus size reader#supernatural smut
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Batmoms biggest "fan"
A small thing that I wrote and completed a long while ago. I decided to go back to school and I'm now getting the hang of everything. enjoy this story wherein- You (fem batmom reader) have a sort of fanclub. This fanclub however has the rest of the family on edge. and your sons do something about it :)
You frown as you took a bite of of your food. You were stood up… by your own husband of all people. At a nice restaurant that he chose.
For a mission that he won’t even tell you the details about. That of course didn’t stop you from indulging in the food and wine that you’ve eaten multiple times. The people around you looked at you with the occasional whispers in between. But you didn’t mind. In fact, with the way you were eating it might as well been a night for Y/N Wayne to be by herself.
The waiter approached the table with a sheepish smile “the bill Miss Wayne.”
You gave him a smile that make even those who despise you blush . You pull out your purse and place cash in the folder, followed by the Bruce’s black card. The server Looked at you confused.
“The black card is for the bill. The cash is your tip.” You say with a wink.
“F-five hundred dollars” he shook his head in disbelief “I can’t accept this.”
You tilt your head to the side “why not? Is it not enough?” You look at his name tag before your phone rang. “You’ve done an excellent job today Jared. Please, accept the tip.”
Jared slowly nodded his head as he return to the back. You check the caller ID and smile “hey hey bird. What’s up?”
On the other end was your second eldest Jason Todd. Slowly he’s been talking to you more as of late. Which brings you joy, the last thing you’d want is for any of your boys to cut you off of their life over Bruce’s actions. Lord knows how hard you try to have both your eldest socialize within the family.
“Nothing much. You free?”
You look around the restaurant “not necessarily. Decided to get some dinner.”
“Where B?”
“Out. He’s busy tonight.”
There was a pause on the other line “right…”
The waiter returned with the card and you signed the receipt . You grabbed your belongings and left the establishment. “So, when’s the next time I get to see you?”
Unbeknownst to you, the very son you were on the phone with stood atop the apartment across from the restaurant.
“I don’t know Ma. I’m on a very important case right now.” Jason said pressing a pair of binoculars watching you intently.
“Hmmm. Well don’t stay out for too long. Honestly, you and your father act the same way when you’re working in a case.”
Jason moved his binoculars slightly behind you. He noticed the waiter watching you from one of the restaurant windows whilst holding a pair of white gloves. Your gloves, you must’ve forgotten them.
“Uh huh. Text me when you get home. Stay safe Ma.”
You look down at your phone slightly shaking your head. You place the phone back into your purse before raises your had at the passing taxi’s.
~Meanwhile~
Jason continued to watch both you and the waiter. It was only after you getting into a taxi that he put all his focus on the man in the restaurant.
Jason heard some shuffling behind him causing him to roll his eyes “Ya know, if you just want a hug you can totally ask.” The man announced his presence with a preppy tone.
Jason grunted “go away Dickhead, I’m busy.”
“No, it looks like you’re stalking mom.” Dick crossed his arms “what are your doing Jay?”
“Working. What are YOU doing? Shouldn’t you be in bludhaven? Doing police work.” Jason quipped as he watched the waiter put Y/N’s gloves in his pockets before returning to work.
“I’m… also working right now.”
Jason finally turned to face his older brother “so you know.”
Dick nodded “Babs has mom’s taxi being traced as we speak. Tim is also tailing the thing.”
Jason took a deep breath before turning around facing the restaurant. Five months, as far as Jason knows, his mother Y/N Wayne has been stalked by a group for five months. And it only seems to be getting worse. Word around the streets is that there’s a twisted fan club. A fan club that is too infatuated with the lady of the Wayne household. And the only way a person can be initiated into the group is by meeting Y/N Wayne.
“Jay. I know you know Bruce is working on this case. Why not join him instead of doing it alone.”
Jason scoffed “please, Bruce will just put the mastermind in jail. And then what? Tell me, are you comfortable with mom having stalkers trying to get to her any chance they get?”
Dick didn’t respond, which cause Jason to laugh “exactly. That man did nothing when I died. I’m not taking that risk. Not when my Mom is involved.”
Jason noticed the waiter walk out of the establishment and hastily walked towards a dark ally. Jason put his helmet back on “if you want to help, stay out of my way.” Jason, dressed as redhood Jumped down from the building to follow the man.
Dick watched as his brother followed the guy.
“You know he’s going to need some backup right?” He heard Barbra in his ear piece.
“Maybe he’s hungry.” Dick flipped off the building befit grappling the next one. Following his brother.
~~~~~
You arrive to the manor and went straight to the cave. “Bruce! Bruce Wayne show yourself right now!” You yelled into the void it seemed. Bats fluttered about as your husband dressed as Batman turned in his seat. He got up and walked towards you
You pointed a finger at him “you stood me up.”
Bruce rose his hands in surrender “I can explain.”
“It better be good. Because ain’t no way I went to your favorite restaurant only to be looking like a goof ball all alone. The gossip news shows are going to have a field day with this one.”
Bruce didn’t say anything. How could he, on the one hand he’s been trying to figure out who’s actively hunting you down. While on the other hand, he did use you for bait. And that he’ll have no problem taking to the grave.
“Bruce, talk to me. You and the kids have been tense lately. Is the world ending again?” You ask stepping closer to Bruce. You knew his actions were for a reason, but after years of dealing with this kind of thing, it’s starting to bug you slightly.
Bruce finally felt defeated. “You remember Dom? Dom rosenbloom from highschool?”
You giggled “of course. I’ve always found him sweet. Wonder what he’s up to.”
“He’s stalking you” Bruce said bluntly.
Your mouth hung open shocked by the sudden declaration “what? H-how?”
Bruce takes your hand and walks you to the computer. He pulled up multiple videos of this man following you at every instance. Galas, work, the gym, even at the supermarket.
“Bruce. Why didn’t you say anything’s“ you gasped before slapping his shoulder “you used me as bait.”
Bruce smiled slightly. Your tone was most definitely playful given the situation. “I might’ve”
You squeezed Bruce’s hand making him face you. His armored chest rising and falling slowly. You look up into his eyes. He then returned the gesture by placing one of his gloved hands on your face. “On a serious note Honey. You’re in danger so lay low for me alright.”
You nod your head. Your fingers dancing along his chest “That’s still not an excuse to stand me up.” You say standing up on your tippy toes before giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. You turn and began ascending the stairs. “I’ll be more carful from now on Bruce. Now… Could you at least join me in the bath~ I think that’ll make up for your silliness.”
Bruce looked at the time then back at you. “It’ll be my pleasure Mrs.Wayne”
~~~
Jason followed the waiter to a run down school. He loaded his gun before stealthily walking into the building.
“Rubber bullets?” Nightwing chirped beside him.
Jason swung his arm around pointing the gun at his brother “keep it up and I’ll use real ones. Just for you.” Jason scoffed “you’re a pain in the ass”
“Not as big of a pain at that one over there.” Dick pointed to the other side of the building. Damian dressed as Robin snuck in through a window before disappearing.
Stressed Jason put the gun away “Wheres his adult.” He said before the two followed the tween down the hall.
~~~
“My brothers! We are gathered here today to honor a priced relic. Mrs.Wayne’s gloves.”
A group of people gathered in the abandoned schools gymnasium. Y/N’s belonging from shoes, jewelry, even discarded hair products were put up on display. Ooo’s and ah’s can be heard from the crowd making Tim feel sick to his stomach. Before he hacked into the building lighting grid gunshots fired. Tim massaged his temple, there was only one other person he can think of that doesn’t have his kind of finesse.
“Alright. Which one of you is the leader?” Red hood parted the crowed of people as he pointed the gun at the man on stage.
Tim moved his head side to side before jumping down from his hiding spot. Knocking out one of the stage guards.
The man attempted to run on the other side but was stopped my a smaller Robin. Damian kicked the guard in the gut before crossing his arms.
The leader’s face turned red with embarrassment “What is the meaning of this. I , Dominic rosebloom will have all of you- ”
“Pfffft I’m sorry. Rose bloom? That’s your name.” Nightwing appeared from behind Redhood who still had the gun pointed at Dominic. “You were bullied weren’t you.”
Dominic opened his mouth to say something but Tim pulled out his laptop. “Actually yes. According to sources Y/n Wayne was his only friend throughout his high school years. Then uhh… Bruce Wayne stole her from him. Gross… anyway You guys didn’t know that?”
“Tsk what does it matter. Let’s settle this quickly. I have something important attend to.”
****
The sun shone through the silk curtains of your bedroom. Normally you’d wake up in bed alone but your husband laid next to you scrolling through his phone. He chuckled slightly before showing you what he was reading.
“Dominic RoseBloom found guilty for harassing and Stalking Mrs.Wayne”
The picture provided was a grown man left out in the open with heart underwear and a dunce hat on.
“No… who would humiliate him like that.” You say pressing a hand over your mouth.
Bruce look at the picture further, he noticed a green cape in the bottom of the photo “our children.”
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𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐘 𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐈𝐗🧺✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
𝟓𝟎% 𝐎𝐅𝐅 𝐒𝐀𝐋𝐄 ON ALL OF MY CHART READINGS!.
check previous observations (𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄)
𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑: 𝐄𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐢𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫/𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬…
𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: i chose to analyze my previous SR charts so these observations are based on my own experience!, also 𝐁𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐋𝐄 𝐔𝐏 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐀 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐀𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃!.
𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐈: 𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐋 𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒🦚✧・゚: *✧・゚:*
𝐓𝐚𝘂𝗿𝘂𝘀 𝐦𝐚𝗿𝘀 really hate getting hungry they turn to a very angry hulk when they want food but there isn’t any around them yet!— full taurus, happy taurus.
I think 𝐞𝐦𝐩𝘁𝘆 𝐡𝐨𝘂𝘀𝐞𝘀 are overrated and here’s a hot-take, we have 12th houses and 10 planets, even if it’s possible to have a planet in each house there’ll be 2 houses empty, surprise there will always be an empty house in your chart, and that doesn’t have to mean necessarily a bad thing!.
Having 0 planets on the 𝟔𝐓𝐇 𝐡𝐨𝘂𝘀𝐞 for example may mean that you just don’t focus about that house matters daily, yes you take care of your health but your life doesn’t revolve around it!, you go to the gym every now and then, eat decent meals, and that it!, unlike 𝟔𝐓𝐇 𝐡𝐨𝘂𝘀𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐬 people you’re not a gym rat, and you may not stick to a diet routine throughout your life, it’s that simple, also please correct me if i’m wrong!.
I noticed that when 𝐕𝐞𝐧𝘂𝘀 𝐚𝘀𝐩𝐞𝐜𝘁𝘀 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧(especially neutral and harmonious aspects) it blesses these natives with a great talent and love for cooking and they also don’t cook for anyone just people whom they cherish.
On the other hand 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝘀𝐩𝐞𝐜𝘁𝘀 𝘁𝐨 𝐍𝐞𝐩𝘁𝘂𝐧𝐞 people may consider cooking as an escapism for them, whenever they feel drained or stressed they may bake a cake or a warm meal to make themselves feel better, and they also may be the type to cook with wines and vodka!.
𝐀𝐪𝘂𝐚𝗿𝐢𝘂𝘀 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝘁𝘀 have an extremely chaotic life and I’m not even joking, they go through the weirdest situations ever.. like please explain to me what could possibly lead you to get lost at an empty arcade in the middle of the night and instead of seeking help you decide to take some pictures for your snap streaks??? (Yes, that’s actually what a friend of mine did and she’s an aqua dominant💁🏻♀️)
Also speaking on 𝐀𝐪𝘂𝐚𝗿𝐢𝐚𝐧𝘀, why do you like surprising people so much?, and i mean it literally with all this pranks and shit, i blame uranus influence tbh.
It is said that people with 𝟏𝟎𝐓𝐇 𝐡𝐨𝘂𝘀𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝘁𝘀 are workaholics, but they aren’t the only ones, i believe that 𝟔𝐓𝐇 𝐡𝐨𝘂𝘀𝐞𝗿𝘀 are way more work dedicated— and addicted than anyone else, because if there’s a thing they do best is following a routine, that’s why they excel anywhere, you just put a plan for them and they’ll follow!.
Also why do 𝟔𝐓𝐇 𝐡𝐨𝘂𝘀𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐢𝗿𝐨𝐧 believe that their work defines their worth, and the more they get exhausted by work it means it pays off better.. HELLO?? IT DOESN’T WORK THIS WAY IN THIS ECONOMY??? HOSPITAL BILLS ARE DISASTROUS PLEASE TAKE A FREAKING BREAK WHEN NEEDED!
I’m not joking my cousin is about to turn into a giant raccoon with all these dark circles she barley sleeps, barley eats and you can never catch her having a break this woman is about to go crazy💀.
𝐋𝐢𝐛𝗿𝐚 𝘃𝐞𝐧𝘂𝘀 have the best eye for aesthetic, and i know i said it before but really, they have a very strange ability to make things that don’t match actually very presentable beautifully!.
When 𝐉𝘂𝐩𝐢𝘁𝐞𝗿 𝐚𝘀𝐩𝐞𝐜𝘁𝘀 𝐒𝐚𝘁𝘂𝗿𝐧 that makes you choose long term partners very carefully, those people know themselves and their needs well enough to decide what’s good and bad for them, they don’t rush it, that’s why they always get the best outcome, and you can see this manifest in both of Rihanna and Beyoncé birth charts!.
Also 𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐲 𝟏𝟏°,𝟐𝟑° people are very, very, veryyyyy creative it’s mind blowing they really think outside the box.
𝐀𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐬 do actually suffer from hyper independence and you can’t tell me otherwise, i was in a group project with one of my friends (me being a libra sun and them being an Aries sun) i thought that we should have at least one man with us to handle all the tough work and pay for some things yadada, however they on the other hand really wanted to do all this shit by themselves (mind you both of us are the first daughters of our families) and we were supposed to go to god knows where shitty places to get the project done, we really almost killed each other then trying to prove our points.. oh yeah and they ended up winning.
𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬 have a very, very soft skin and it’s not even a joke anymore im so jealous!, also the chest area is really really prominent no jokes.
𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐈: 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐓 𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 🪴⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆
When i had 𝟗𝐓𝐇 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧, my grandparents who haven’t visited us for more than 4+ years came back from london (which was considered a miracle since it just wasn’t supposed to happen), and then we both traveled then together on a short trip, and i also noticed that whenever i had 𝟗𝐓𝐇 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟗𝐓𝐇 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 i traveled to a place that was full of water, going to a beach, the ocean etc.. and it may also indicate going back to our roots.
My favorite years are the ones with 𝟓𝐓𝐇 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬, the amount of joy, new experiences and the excitement that surrounds you throughout the year can’t be described by words only, and it doesn’t really revolve around romantic relationships only, i don’t date and whenever i had my 𝐒𝐮𝐧/𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧/𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐬/𝐉𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟓𝐓𝐇 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 it felt like i was healing my inner child, i found myself indulging more in art, these were the years where i got introduced to my most creative and artistic self!.
𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟔𝐓𝐇 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 is no joke, I felt the need to become my best self 24/7, also my peers in uni got on my nerves more than ever.
When astroblr community said that having 𝐉𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐂 grants you luck throughout the year i thought they were joking but no, it’s 100% legit, everything worked in my favor fr, dude even my periods came on the best date’s it’s crazy, oh and i also got social media semi famous, i had 2 reels on instagram pass 2m views (bonus; that year i had 𝟓𝐓𝐇 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐨, which means short term or quick fame!)
When i had a 𝟒𝐓𝐇 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐚𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐉𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫, i felt more connected with my mom, and she also felt the same way— we both talked more with each other! Also I bought lots of posters for my room, and a new vanity!, oh yeah and since it was in leo i noticed that took a good care of my hair, it’s crazy how astrology can be literal sometimes.
#astrology#astrology notes#astrology observations#astrology aspects#astrology degrees#astrology houses#astrology planets#astro notes#astrotips#love astrology#astrology reading#astro#astro community#astro observations#astroblr#marriage astrology#astro placements
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The Different Portrayals of Papageno in "The Magic Flute" (Die Zauberflöte)
Of all the characters in Mozart's The Magic Flute, Papageno is probably the one most open to interpretation by the singer and the stage director. As I've watched different performances of the opera, the funny bird-catcher seems almost like a different character in each version.
Every singer brings unique qualities to the role, but I've narrowed the most common portrayals down to four – which can be combined with each other too. I've seen baritones give excellent performances in every one of these portrayals, as well as in blends of them.
The Innocent
This is the sweetest portrayal of Papageno and the most endearingly simple-minded. He’s most often portrayed by younger baritones: the more baby-faced, the better. This uneducated, naïve young creature of the woods and mountains is almost a Peter Pan figure (without Peter Pan’s brashness or ruthlessness, though with a little of his boyish cockiness), who has never quite grown up. His childlike qualities include total earnestness as he asks questions with obvious answers, childlike quaking and whimpering in the face of danger, and childlike sobbing in moments of despair. Yet while his failure to “be a man” sometimes tries other people’s patience, no one except Monostatos can really dislike him. His friendly, cheerful, exuberant yet gentle demeanor is filled with natural charm, and the broad, sunny comedy of nearly all his scenes keeps the audience laughing, yet his boyish vulnerability is touching too, even when it’s played for laughs. Most endearing of all is his lively, wide-eyed, unabashed joy in all of life’s most simple pleasures. He might be an unsophisticated man-child, but whatever he lacks in maturity or wisdom he makes up for in zest for life and in warmth of heart.
The Peasant
This is a more mature, down-to-earth Papageno, who clearly represents the common man. He comes across as an average, hardy 28-year-old peasant, lifted straight out of the 18th century Austrian countryside into an exotic fairy tale world. Although uneducated and unrefined compared to Tamino, he’s not particularly naïve, but conveys sound working-class intelligence and practicality, and he often delivers his funny lines with a knowing, snarky wit. This makes him a kindred spirit to classic earthy “comic servant” characters like Sancho Panza or Leporello. His lustiness is also pronounced as he craves good food, alcohol, and female companionship: it’s clear that his desire for a Papagena is carnal, not just emotional. And despite all his fears and foibles, there’s an underlying stolidness to him; a sense of resilience that suits a man whose spent his life working hard to earn a humble living. Ultimately, he fails Sarastro’s tests not because he’s silly or weak, but because he’s just too ordinary for the grandly idealistic world of the priests. This makes him less broadly funny than some other Papagenos are, but it makes him easy for the audience to personally relate to, and easy for them to view as a friend too.
The Odd Duck
This is the most eccentric Papageno. His costume tends to be more wildly feathery than other Papagenos’ and make him look less human and more birdlike. He often has more birdlike mannerisms too: for example, making chirping sounds when he sees a pretty girl, or literally screeching in terror. But even if he’s portrayed as fully human, he’s defined by adorable quirkiness. In contrast to the staid dignity of the upper-class characters who surround him, he has puckish, squirrely energy, with little thought for dull things like “manners” or “social rules,” and his emotions always run free and high, sometimes causing funny melodramatics when he’s especially scared or distraught. Yet his joy in living is equally strong and unabashed, and for the audience, it’s infectious. Nor is there any restraint on his love of food, wine, and pretty girls, or on his playful and mischievous sense of humor. This free spirit is a true “child of nature,” who, like a wild bird, lives by his animal instincts: he doesn’t care what anyone else thinks of him, no matter how strange, silly, or inappropriate he seems by normal standards of society. He just does whatever he feels like doing, and the audience can’t help but love him for it.
The Sad Clown
This is the least comical Papageno, but no less endearing than the others. His costume tends to lack feathers and be drably colored, disheveled, and poor-looking. Nor is his demeanor as broadly cheerful as other Papagenos’, but more reserved, and as for his style of humor, he’s most akin to Charlie Chaplin’s Little Tramp. The audience laughs at his foibles and slapstick, but feels pity him as well, because he shows a full and realistic range of emotions, with a subtle yet distinct vein of melancholy. He makes us realize what an unlucky man Papageno really is, as he constantly fails other people’s expectations and is browbeaten by both the villains and the heroes alike (all except Pamina). The sense of loneliness he conveys is especially poignant: not only in his deep yearning for a Papagena, but because he grew up without parents, has no real friends (only social superiors, some kind, others less so), and has never known any form of love. This Papageno’s eventual suicide attempt seems much less ridiculous than usual: even though it’s still played partly for laughs, we can almost believe he might go through with it. When he finally finds his Papagena in the end, his happiness feels long overdue and well earned.
The Pecking Rooster
This Papageno portrayal is more of a subtype than an individual type: he can predominantly be either an Innocent, a Peasant, or a Sad Clown. But either way, he’s pricklier than other Papagenos, with more machismo and a little bit more of a temper. Like a rooster defending the henhouse, he feistily defends his own safety and comfort, and like the Cowardly Lion with his “Put ‘em up! Put ‘em up!” he tries (but fails) to mask his fears with “manly” pugnaciousness and pride. Expect this Papageno to posture exuberantly as he claims to have the strength of a giant, to puff himself up to scare Monostatos away, to be as stubborn as a mule in refusing to face each new danger, and to bicker with Tamino and the priests every step of the way. His anger at being constantly ordered around, dragged into unpleasant situations, and denied the reward he was promised (a bride) is loud and clear. Yet unlike his villainous counterpart Monostatos, he’s never consumed by his anger, but combines it with classic Papageno warmth and good humor. For that reason, audiences empathize with his frustration, and admire his proud efforts to stand up to the powers that frustrate him, even though he comically fails to thwart them.
Here are some examples of the different Papagenos from different filmed performances of the opera. (I'll add more as I see them.)
*William Workman (Hamburg, 1971): The Innocent.
*Håkan Hagegård (Ingmar Bergman film, 1975): The Innocent, with undertones of the Sad Clown.
*Benjamin Luxon (Glyndebourne, 1977): The Peasant, with traces of the Innocent and the Sad Clown.
*Christian Boesch (Salzburg, 1982): A blend of the Innocent, the Peasant, and the Pecking Rooster, with undertones of the Sad Clown.
*John Fulford (Sydney, 1986): The Peasant.
*Mikael Samuelson (Drottningholm, 1989): The Odd Duck, with the earthiness of the Peasant.
*Manfred Hemm (the Met, 1991): The Innocent.
*Detlef Roth (Paris, 2001): A blend of the Innocent, the Odd Duck, and the Pecking Rooster.
*Simon Keenlyside (Covent Garden, 2003): The Sad Clown.
*Christian Gehaher (Salzburg, 2006): A blend of the Peasant and the Pecking Rooster, with hints of the Odd Duck.
*Nathan Gunn (the Met, 2006): A blend of the Peasant and the Odd Duck, with traces of the Pecking Rooster.
*Markus Werba (the Met, 2017): A blend of the Innocent and the Peasant, with traces of the Pecking Rooster.
Meanwhile, in my gender-bent retelling, An Eternal Crown, I think Lorikeet is a cross between the Innocent and the Odd Duck, with a few undertones of the Sad Clown.
I'd be interested to learn which portrayal(s) @leporellian is using for the anthropomorphic cat Papageno in their Magic Flute-inspired novel Song of the Sky.
@ariel-seagull-wings, @tuttocenere, @vogelfanger1984, @thealmightyemprex, @thevampiricnihal, @cjbolan
#opera#die zauberflöte#the magic flute#papageno#characterization#character types#comparison#patterns#fictional characters
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Part of her duties required her to hear the calls of her people. Simon’s words rang true when many of her subjects blessed her at the foot of her throne and thanked her for the food and help she provided. Other times, she was forced to listen to the nobles and children of nobles boast and puff their chests like birds attracting a mate. One moment has stuck out to her when a group of rough looking men entered the hall and she felt a sickening feeling gather when she watched John and Kyle stand up straight from the windows they were leaning on; more so, when she felt Simon and Jonathan come to the left and right of her throne side and stand.
The leader, she assumed from the way he swaggered up to her throne, gave a showy bow. “Your Majesty,” he greeted with a disgusting tone and look in his eye. “It’s a pleasure to be in such a glorious and dignified hall.”
She ignored the desire to have them thrown out on their rears, and lifted her chin, replying calmly, “The pleasure is mine. Might I ask what you’ve come to me in request of?”
“Well,” he drawled out. “My men and I,” he gestured to the men behind him and then himself. “Have been doing an excellent job of keeping your border on the west end clean of ruffians and bandits.”
“I wasn’t aware I had commissioned a new squad of knights,” she answered, arching an elegant brow on her forehead. “Might I ask who your captain is?”
The man’s chuckle was anything but amusing. “Oh, we’re not knights. We’re simply concerned...citizens.”
“Ah, I suspect I shall see more armed citizens soon, then?”
“Perhaps,” he smiled. “My Lady.”
“So, what do you require of me?”
He took another step up but stopped when Kyle and John appeared and held out their arms, effectively blocking him. “Quite the group of knights you command, Your Majesty.”
“They are,” she affirmed. “What do you want from my kingdom? Gold? Land? Titles?”
“Well, if we are going to continue to protect the border, we’d like to know it’s going to be repaid.”
“I’ve never heard of your group before. Why would I repay such?”
“We are good. Better than even your knights.”
She hummed low and waved a hand; a young woman appeared with a golden cup and a pitcher, and she took the wine goblet. “Thank you, Laeneris.”
“Your Majesty,” the woman bowed and stepped down with the pitcher.
“I will offer amnesty, but I will send my own knights to see how you protect my kingdom. You will fight for my kingdom and my people. You will fight for me.” She took a sip of her wine. “I will give you one day to decide.” Waving a hand, she said to a man in the side hall, “Amnie, a few rooms in the inn in town for our…guests.”
The leader gazed at her as the men behind him laughed and cheered with one another; he regarded her with a curious and lewd expression. “Show me your cunt. I want to see if it’s worth fighting for.”
Simon was already drawing his long sword and down a half step when she simply raised a finger. “You are in my throne room. In my castle. And are going to be staying in my inn. You do well to remember as such.” She looked behind his men. “You have a decision to make, and I have more subjects to hear.”
He smirked and nodded his head. “Of course, Your Majesty. I thank you for your hospitality.” He turned and walked past Laeneris, pausing to slap her rear hard; she jumped and made a face as he muttered, “I’ll find you tomorrow evening.”
As they walked off, she leaned back in her throne. “Ser Simon?” she narrowed her gaze on the man’s back. “When you meet them on the border…kill that one first.”
Simon’s gaze darkened behind the visor as he sheathed his sword, and he assured, “Gladly, Your Grace.”
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tell me you need me (1 of 2) | c. berzatto x reader
It was good when you started but Carmen Berzatto had the ability to make anyone fall in love with him no matter how much you tried not to. (friends with benefits!carmen, smut, mndi!!!, unprotected p in v, smut! smut!, angst!! fluff, maybe some bad words, blood, unedited) MASTER LISTS
TAGLIST
I need you tonight. Want to go?
You sighed at the message that Carmy sent you. “Want to go” was a code for “I want to have sex.” and it’s been working pretty well for these past few months. You both needed some sort of release for the pent-up stress that you both have. Carmy, with the Bear and you, with art. You were a full-time artist; creating art inspired by food using oil paint and other forms of media. You’ve been stressed with your upcoming gallery opening next month. Would they love it? It’s quite hard to meet the expectations after winning the Herb Alpert Award in the Arts last year. It was close to Carmy’s James Beard Foundation award, if not the same. In a way, at the end of the day, you were two people excelling in your jobs except for everything else. You sucked at relationships, friendships, connection…what wasn’t artistic; you sucked at. Carmy was the same. Without thinking, you typed your response, a four letter word. Maybe you’ll see him tonight.
-
Carmy enters your home like he lived in it. He had his own set of keys, it was easier that way. He’s been so stressed with the Bear and the only thing that he needs is to blow off some of that steam before he can be functional again. There was supposed to be a celebrity who was wishing for a whole fucking kitchen tour tomorrow and he had to stay behind to make sure that everything was perfect.
“Hey,” he greets you when he sees you perched on your couch. He liked your apartment much better; at least you had multiple rooms and your own space. It’s not like his; there was work everywhere while yours felt homey. Except your studio down the hall—damn, how much do artists earn today?
“Hey,” you replied. “Did you have dinner yet? I can heat up some of the Chinese food I ordered earlier.”
“No, no. It’s alright,” he says, removing his shoes in the doorway. You were always so tidy and meticulous. No outside clothes on the bed; he had to learn that the hard way. “Actually, um, can-can I take a shower first? I want to wash the day away and I-I smell like the kitchen.”
“And you took the L,”
“Ubered here, actually.”
“Surge rates?”
“I was in a rush.”
“Oh,” you gulped. “Well, you still have your clothes in my wardrobe and your toiletries in my bathroom.”
“Which one?” he asked. “Which-which bathroom?”
“The one in my bedroom,” you replied. “You know where the fresh towels are. So…”
“Uh, yeah-yeah,” he says. “Thanks.” You only smiled at him. Conversation before your engagements are usually awkward because you both knew what the two of you were there for. It’s more comfortable afterwards; when he talks about the Bear or asks you about your art.
You and Carmy met from a friend of a friend. You were looking for chefs that could serve you inspiration for your paintings when she mentioned Carmen Berzatto. You reached out to him and he replied three months later, telling you that he can show you some of the recipes that he’s been working on. He’s an artist himself—Sistine Chapel art kind of stuff. He explained the components of his dish over dinner in your hotel apartment in New York. You mentioned that you were from Chicago and he mentioned that he’s from Chicago too…you drank too much wine and the rest was history.
You both stopped communicating when he met Claire but he reached out again, asking if you wanted to meet. He told you all about her and how he fucked up. You drank too much wine again. History has the habit of repeating itself.
You swore to never fall in love with Carmen Berzatto and you didn’t…not until recently. He used to leave immediately once you’re both done. Lately, he’s been staying over. He talks to you about everything. He stays over and wakes you up with coffee and some Michelin Star quality pancakes or French toast. He watches you take your first bite before he takes his, likes to watch your reaction and likes hearing your praise.
You were too lost in your reviere to notice Carmen walking to you, all fresh and clean. He lays a hand on your shoulder and kisses your neck.
“What are you thinking about?” he asks, voice deep and sultry.
“You,” you replied, reaching up to massage his curls.
“Good,” he says, removing himself from you and sitting on the opposite side of the couch. “Needed you today…but I want to talk first before…before…”
“That’s fine with me,” you replied, inching closer to him. “What’s wrong?” He puts his hand on your knee, squeezing it lightly. Since when was he so comfortable around you?
“I…I just… Mikey,” The name lingers heavy in the air. Anytime Carmen feels the crushing weight of the pressure, he says Mikey. Whenever he feels inadequate, not enough, never enough—he says Mikey.
“He’ll be proud of you, Carm,” you said, smiling at him. “Like everyone else is.”
“I’m sorry for not inviting you to the opening…Claire was-was there and…”
“I understand,” You put your hand over his to reassure him that everything’s okay. “I understand.”
“You wouldn’t have seen me,” he chuckled. “I was locked inside the walk-in the whole time and well, everything was great. What if I’m not needed?”
Is it too late for me to love you?
“Carm…” you trailed off, trying to find the words. “Of course, you’re needed. The Bear wouldn’t be The Bear without you, you know? Your family must be so proud of you because I know that-that I am. I’m so proud of you and I-I need you so much,” you told him. “I need you, Carmen. More than you could ever know.”
Is it too late for me to love you?
Maybe it was the words that you said, maybe it was the long forgotten show on the T.V., maybe it was because the T.V. screen illuminated your face in a way that was so, so beautiful. Maybe it was just him.
“Let’s go to bed,” he rasps, taking your hand and dragging you to the bedroom. Once he closes the door behind him, Carmy presses you against it, taking your chin and kissing you. It was slow and needy; this kiss was needy. You trail your hand underneath the white shirt that hugged his figure. You caress his sides up and down; softly; slowly and Carmen releases a whimper into your mouth. I need you. I need you. I need you.
“Baby,” he whispers, pulling away from you to remove his shirt. “Baby, baby, baby.”
“I need you, Carmen,” you muster the courage to kiss his neck now, sucking and nipping right under his collarbone. He lets you do it, he lets you mark him like you own him. He tugs on the roots of your hair lightly. You lick the purple bruise, nipping it again just so it could last one more week. Carmen was sighing above you, letting you take him like he wanted to be taken. His hands itch, slipping right under the waistband of your panties to cup your heated cunt. “Carmy,”
“I know, baby. Let’s get you to bed, hm?” he asks, pushing you slightly. “Lay down for me. I missed you so much. Let me show you,”
You obey his commands, opening your legs widely like he likes. He crawls until his face is right in front and removes your underwear, tossing it to the side. He’ll take care of that later.
“You’re so wet,” he groans, when he lets his index finger trail along your slit. You buckle in need; silently begging him to do more. “So, fucking wet,” he repeats, parting your folds until he sees your glistening cunt.
“Carm…” you whine. He spits on your clit and you whimper.
“Let me taste you, hm?” you heard him say, his wandering fingers rubbing all sorts of shapes on your folds. You could only nod and he takes that, licking a bold stripe. You press your cunt against his tongue and he just takes it. He licks a few more stripes before sucking your clit softly.
“Carmy,” you moan. Your hands trail down underneath your shirt, thumbs softly flicking your sensitive nipples. Carmy could just come at the sight of you playing with them but he holds back, sucking your clit harsher before plunging his thick middle finger inside you. “Oh, fuck,”
He pumps the finger slowly…in, out, in, out while he licks your sensitive bud.
“Fuck, Carmy,” you whimper. “Fuck me,”
“Later,” was his nonchalant reply; enjoying the sweet nectar that dripped from your sloppy pussy. It was better than any dessert he’s ever had before. If it was um to him, he’d have his head buried in between your legs, eating you out forever. You buckle again, pinching your nipples hard and tugging them.
“Carm…”
“I know, I know,” he says, sucking your clit harshly for one last time before crawling on top of you. “Taste,” he orders. You obliged, opening your mouth and putting on a show with the way you licked your juices off of his finger. “Fuck,” he groans. He palms himself through his boxers while you sucked on his finger. You released it with one last suck before putting your hand on top of Carmy’s to feel his hardening cock underneath. You push his hand away while you squeeze his member lightly. Just enough for him to rut his hips against your hand. Just enough for him to toss his boxers to the side.
You tried to sit up to see him pump a few strokes, moaning your name while he did. He gets off the bed, looking at the way your body moved while you breathed.
“Beautiful,” he whispers to himself before dragging your body to the end of the bed. He pries your legs open and puts one of them over his shoulder. He liked it like this, it fills you up in ways you cannot describe. “Need you to play with your tits while I fuck you, hm?”
He taps his cock against your pussy.
“Can you hear how wet you are?” he asked, sliding his cock in between your folds. You could feel the protruding vein run along your nub and you moan, massaging your breasts to show him your obedience. “Fuck,”
“Carmy…” you whimpered. “Please.”
He hums, grabbing his member and teasing your wet entrance with his pink tip. “You’re so…”
With no warning, Carmy plunges deep into you and you both groan. You were waiting for this. He’s been wanting this the whole day. He stays there for a few seconds before he thrusts in and out of you slowly.
“Fuck,”
The slopping noises inside your room reverberated in your walls and for a few moments, the sounds of your groans and skin slapping against skin heightens your arousal. Carmy thumbs your clit and he feels your walls clench around him.
“Don’t do that, petal,” he rasps, sweat dripping on his forehead. “I’ll cum fast if you do.”
“Sorry,” you choked out. He only grunts as he adjusts his pace. He was faster now and you could hear he ragged breathing. “Carmy, I need you.”
“Y-you need me,” he repeats to himself. “You need me.”
“I do,” you told him, moaning when he plunges his cock deep inside you. “Need you, need you,”
“Oh, fuck,” he groans. “Tell me that you need me. Tell me,”
“I need you, Carmy,” you whine. “I need you to cum inside me,”
Carmy’s eyes widened. You’ve never let him do that before. He always had to pull out or use a condom.
“Want me to fill you up?” he asks, his voice strained. “I’ll fill you —oh, fuck,”
“Yes, please,” you sobbed, breath hitching at the feeling of his cock twitch inside of you. “Fuck, Carmy.”
Sex has never felt this good.
You could feel the breaking point come nearer and he does too. His movements were sloppier, his breathing even more ragged that it was. Your walls were clenching around him but that seemed to arouse him even more.
“Fuck, fuck,” he grunted. “I’ll fill you up, hm?”
“Yes, please, Carmy,” you whine. He could only nod, doing his best to keep his orgasm at bay. He wanted to prolong this feeling; this emotion but he couldn’t. “Fuck, Carmy, I’m cumming, I’m cumming. Carm—oh!”
He follows soon after, moaning your name as he shoots ropes of cum inside your pussy. He could feel your walls clench around him and he thrusts in slowly, to ride both of your orgasms away.
“You-you liked that?” he asked. He doesn’t pull out. Instead he takes your other leg and hangs in on his shoulder. “We have to make sure that not a drop goes to waste.”
You nodded and felt his hands caress your legs slowly. He slowly lays your legs back down on the bed and crawls on top of you, kissing your torso, neck, and your chest while he did.
“Stay there,” he ordered and you nodded in assent. You just let him cum inside you. He walks over to the carafe on your bedside, filling the glass with water and then, taking a hand towel from your cabinet. He pours a little bit of the liquid onto the towel. You sit up when he wordlessly gives you the glass of water. He watches you finish it and kisses your head when you gave him the glass back. He sets it on the floor carefully before opening your legs so he could clean you up.
“No,” you shook your head and he stops, alert because you told him no. “I’m…I’m still sensitive,”
“Okay, petal,” he nods, taking the glass and the towel away. He picks up the tossed articles of clothing puts it in the laundry basket. He was quiet when he takes a fresh set of pyjamas and underwear from your wardrobe. “Raise your arms,” he says and you do. He puts a new shirt on you. “Lay down.” You followed him. He puts a new pair of panties on you. “Thank you,”
You were so tired now but you were still so aware of Carmy’s actions. He stands up from the bed to wear new clothes and sits down on the bed. He carefully places your head on his lap and plays with your hair.
“Thank you,” he says, bowing down to kiss your forehead. “Why don’t you sleep for me, hm?”
“Will you be here when I wake up?”
“Waffles or pancakes?”
“Waffles with whipped cream.”
-
Why won’t you let me love you?
There were times when you’d fight with Carmen. A disagreement over something so, so, so small. This time, it was big. It was the opening of your gallery and he promised to be there. It was a big night—multiple art collectors and mongers from all over America came to see your latest pieces. They were all inspired by the food you grew up eating in Chicago; a collection of how culture, identities, and personalities affect eating. Your paintings were in vibrant colors—cup ramen with cheese, cannoli, food that you grew up eating whenever your mom was away. There were small details on the significance of the new collection to your life and he wasn’t there. You were on the stage, telling everyone how grateful you were to the audience but you were preoccupied, looking for a familiar mop of curls in the crowd. He didn’t come. He didn’t go.
You smiled at them half-heartedly before leaving the stage, ready to be whisked away by some art dealer. You were whisked away by multiple guests, asking you for more details on the painting. You all told them everything they needed to know, what they should do if they’d like to make a purchase…
It would have been alright if he texted you…but he promised he’d be there. He promised he’d take you home. He promised.
-
Carmy was sitting alone in his apartment. He left The Bear earlier than usual and went straight home. He did it all, shower, put a nice suit, and fix his hair. He did it all, he even ran to the nearest florist to buy you flowers but he didn’t go.
Isn’t this what lovers do?
He wasn’t your lover. He couldn’t let himself be distracted again. He had to focus; he couldn’t fail the people that relied on him. He looked at the bag of groceries he got from the store; he was supposed to cook you something special tonight. Have you eaten yet? Fuck the suit that he paid for dry cleaning; fuck the flowers; fuck him. It must have hurt you—he knows that. Tonight was a big night and you were so excited to show him a painting that you’ve been working on.
“I won’t sell it,” you told him. “I’ll have it shipped to you first thing in the morning.”
Would you still send it to him?
-
By the end of the night, you were exhausted. Happy, but exhausted. It was normal; talking to everyone and being scintillating the whole night was work but it was worth it. Your paintings all had their new owners, except for the painting that you promised to Carmy. Would he still want it? You were alone in the studio, wrapping the 4 by 3 foot canvas with the best quality glassine. You were giving this to him tomorrow. If he doesn't want to have it, you’ll probably just donate it somewhere else.
You laid awake in your bed all night long, waiting for his text. It was funny, just last week he was begging you to tell him that you needed him but when you needed him most, he wasn’t there.
You arrive at The Bear just before it opens, the big canvas tucked under your arm. He was sure to be there and had always told you to use the back door if you weren’t dining. You always obliged, of course, opening the backdoor to reveal everyone. You’ve met Sydney and Richie before but you haven’t met the others yet. You were an alien in an unknown world; Carmy’s employees looking at you, as if wondering who this girl was.
“Hey,” Sydney greeted, looking at the glassine covered thing that you were carrying. “Didn’t know you were coming in today. Congratulations on your exhbit,”
“Yeah, Congrats. What’s that, sweetheart?” Richie asked.
“Oh,” you just nodded. Carmy couldn’t even look at you. “I just came here to give this to…uh, Carmy,” you cleared your throat. “Carm…?”
“Uh, yeah-yeah,” he stuttered. “Can we go to the office?”
“Sure.”
You followed him into the office while Richie tells everyone to go back to what they were doing. Your heart was hammering inside your chest, afraid that this was going to be another one of those petty fights that you’ve had with him.
You were wrong. So, so wrong.
“You didn’t come last night,” you told him, shielding yourself from him with the painting. “I…I waited.”
“Sorry,” was his laconic reply. You nodded, chuckling.
“That’s all?” you asked. “Just…sorry? No explanation, no nothing?” you asked. “I was looking for you the whole night, Carm. You promised you were coming,”
“I don’t know what-what you want me to say,” he says, looking everywhere but at you. “I-I-I’m sorry, okay? I had other plans.”
“You promised months ago that you were coming,” you repeated. “I called Sydney last night because you weren’t answering and she told me that you left early.”
“You’re spying on me now?” he asks, suddenly defensive. “I had things to do that night. I can’t-can’t just put everything on hold for-for you.” He spits his words like venom, voice getting louder with every word.
You frowned, not recognizing who the boy was in front of you. It’s not like you asked him to put his life on hold. Your heart was beating so fast in anger, ears ringing.
“I see. So you just need me around and you-you just I don’t know, call me because you need to get your dick wet?” you asked, matching his volume. “You just need me around when no one else is there to fuck you? Is that it?” you asked. “What the fuck?”
Carmy blinks, tries to think of the words he’s about to say but he couldn’t stop himself. He could never seem to stop himself.
“You’re the only one desperate enough to do so,” he shrugs. It breaks your heart in pieces, really. The nights Carmen spent nuzzling his head in your shoulder before you slept probably meant nothing to him. Your face falls, contorting in hurt at what he just said. Fuck Carmen Berzatto. Fuck him. “I’m not your fucking boyfriend. I don’t know why you expect me to just-just-just do something!”
“Maybe I wanted you there as my friend!” you shouted over. Your voices could be heard from outside but everyone else pretended like they weren’t listening to anything that you both were saying. You were shouting over each other now, the fuse just breaks. “If you didn’t have any fucking plans to actually go, then don’t give me your good for nothing fucking promises!”
“I don’t need a girl leeching on me when I’m opening a fucking restaurant. Do you want me to put everything on you just because you asked me to? I’m not your fucking boyfriend. You know that right? And maybe-maybe I don’t want to be your fucking friend either!”
“Why would I want you to be my boyfriend, Carmy? You’re-you’re fucking unreliable! You have issues that need fixing. You think Claire could fix that? You think I could fix that? You think the girls you get wrapped around your fucking finger can fix your fucked up fucking head? Huh? Is that what you think? You’re so fucking miserable you make everyone around you miserable! Grow up!” He’s hurt. That’s what you thought of him? That he was miserable? Did he make you miserable?
“I don’t need to go to your fucking art exhibition when they’re all fucking shit.”
You closed your mouth before you could protest. The pain of his words felt like a slap on the face. If he regretted it, he didn’t show it. You turned away, nodding.
“Fuck you, Carmen. Don’t fucking call me. Don’t fucking knock on my door. Don’t…don’t fucking think of me. I’m fucking done with you,”
“Yeah? You’re done with me, huh? Fuck you,” he spits back. He heard the waver in your voice; heard how you tried to steady everything. He wanted to say sorry but you were already leaving. Richie and Sydney couldn’t even ask you what happened because you were rushing out, throwing the painting you worked hard on for days at the back. Fuck Carmen Berzatto. Fuck him.
-
“Fuck!” his chefs could hear from outside the office. Everyone heard the vile things you both screamed at each other; everyone heard why you were so angry. Everyone fucking heard. Nobody dared to move, they didn’t want to be on the receiving end of Carmy’s anger; not when The Bear was about to open. Continuous loud bangs and sounds of some object being thrown were heard too. Sugar sighed.
“Carm?” she called from the door. “It’s almost opening,”
“I-I-I know, Sug.” he replied, blinking. “Uh, can-can you guys go ahead? I’ll be there, I just-just need to you know, calm down?”
“Okay, Bear,” she smiles, tapping the door frame before leaving Carmen in his own thoughts. He gets out of the restaurant through the back door, about to light a cigarette, when he sees the canvas wrapped with glassine.
“Fuck,” was the only thing he could mutter before taking it and sitting where the staff usually stayed at when they wanted a break. He lights up a stick and lets it hang loose on his lips while he opens your gift with shaky hands. He was so immersed in the experience, gently removing the tape and making sure that nothing was ruined that he didn’t notice Sydney.
The glassine reveals a painting of a plate of cannolis. He remembered that he told you the story about cannolis during Christmas and how he wanted to recreate that—take it for himself. He traces over the precise brushstrokes shakily.
“That’s a good painting,” Sydney spoke, her hands behind her back. “Would be a waste to just throw it out.”
“I know,” Carmy nods. “I’m sorry you had to uh, hear all of that.”
“It’s…something,” Sydney replied, making Carmy chuckle.
“I always…always seem to uh, fuck up everything,” he muttered. “I was on the way there, you know? Last night?”
“Yeah. You were so excited,”
“I was,” he coughed. “But I didn’t go because…” Words died down in his mouth. Why didn’t he go? “I’ve said some things and she-she doesn’t want me to call her anymore and I-I understand but like, I don’t know, Syd.”
Don’t know why I could never seem to just let myself enjoy things. I don’t belong anywhere else but in the fucking kitchen. It’s the only thing I was good at.
“I didn’t really want to to, uh, fuck this up.”
-
I want to talk to you.
Come to my apartment after your shift. Or whenever.
Carmen feels his palms sweat when he reads texts you sent him days ago. He decided to go today, finally—he was never good at confronting things; always so explosive, so defensive. He didn’t know what he’d feel like today. He knocks on your door and hears the shuffling from the other side. He just got out of The Bear; he was tired but he forced himself to go. He had to go.
“Hey,” you smiled tightly when you opened the door. “Come in.”
He nods, wordlessly entering your apartment like how henused to. Bag and shoes on the side. Somehow, this made him more nervous than usual. This was a prelude to something else entirely; he believed that.
“How are you? he asked, voice small and looking down.
“I’m…good,” you replied, looking away. “You?”
“Busy,” he replied. The air felt heavy and his palms were sweating. “I’m…I’m sorry for not being there when I promised you that I would,”
“Why weren’t you there, Carm?” you asked and he could hear the sadness in your voice. He knew that your exhibit meant a lot to you. “You…you told me you will and well, you were…the-the person I want to be there the most.”
“I didn’t know that. I’m- I’m sorry,” he shrugged. “But why? I mean, I-I don’t know art. I like my shit but I-I’m not cool or understand—“
“Because I like you, Carmy.” you told him, looking at him now and trying to go nearer. He stepped back and you stopped your tracks.
“You—what?” he asked, shaking his head furiously; like your confession offended him. “You…like me.”
“I do,” you nodded. “But…it doesn’t matter.”
“Fuck. How many times do we have to go back to this very same place for you to understand?” he asked, running a hand through his hair. He told you before that he didn’t want to date. You told him you understood. You told him he was being egotistic when he told you not to get attached. He wanted to leave. He didn’t expect this to happen—he didn’t want this to happen. “I don’t—I don’t—“
“Carmy,” you cautioned him, trying to ease your beating heart. “Can you listen to me? I-I-I like you, okay and I’ve been thinking about it too. I’m—you’re always staying behind after sex and well, I just maybe thought that you liked me too.” You replied, swallowing his rejection for now.
“I don’t,” he snaps, tone sharp. “We’ll both be miserable in a relationship. I’ll never make-make you happy. You’re right, you know? I’m unreliable and-and-and issues that I need to fix…and I’m not the one you’re looking for,”
“I’m sorry for saying that. It wasn’t my place to do so,” was your meek reply. How does he feel so far away when he feels so, so, so close?
“No, uh,” Carmen blinks, shaking his head. “It’s fine. I-I-I needed to hear those things, you know? I’m sorry too…for everything.”
“Thank you.”
“That’s it then?” he asked. He was distressed. How could he fuck this up after telling Sydney that he didn’t want to fuck things up with you? “I…I had fun,” You were the only one who kept me afloat when everything else turned to shit. I missed you when we stopped talking. I should have fought harder. What else could I have done?
“Fun,” you chuckled bitterly. “Fun…that’s the only thing you’re going to say to me?”
Carmy frowned.
“What else did you want me to say?”
“I don’t know, Carmy!” you exclaimed, pacing back and forth but never towards him. “God! Tell me that I’m important to you. Tell me that I’ll still be your friend…tell me that you—that you—that I mean more than a fuck!”
Silence. Carmy couldn’t find the words to tell you what you truly meant to him…that he wanted what you wanted too but he was too scared to fuck it all up again like he did with Claire.
You nodded, looking away. You breathed in deeply, as if trying to relieve yourself of the hurt. That’s all you’ve ever meant to him.
“You lead me along and it’s fine. I know that it’s my fault for wanting other things but at least…at least tell me that I’ll still be your friend; that I still matter to you even if I dug myself a hole by feeling things. Tell me that you still need me to put everything on hold for you because I’ve been waiting you to call me all day…”
“I don’t want you to do that. I don’t want you putting your life on hold for me,” he rasps. “I don’t…”
“But what if I wanted to?” you asked, face slightly contorted because you didn’t want to be so vulnerable in front of him. Not when he hasn’t told you what you wanted yet. Carmy was just looking at you, tapping his foot on the floor. It was a nervous habit that he developed. Fuck, he needed a cigarette.
“Can you, uh, leave?” you asked, voice low. “I…”
“No, no, no,” he begs, rushing towards you. He grabs a hold of your elbows to remind you that he was there. Would it mean anything? Would his touch convey all of the words he wanted to say?
“Carm…” your voice breaks. “Carm…”
“No, no. You’re not just that to me,” he reassures “But you have to understand that-that I can’t love you like that.”
“Carmen, please…” you beg, tears brimming in your eyes. “Please…just, just leave,”
You’ve never asked him to leave before but it seemed like it was what you really wanted—like it was what you really needed. He nods, kissing your head softly before detaching himself from you.
“I’m sorry,” Carmy said. “For-for not saying the right, uh, things.”
“Yeah,” you nod, hiding yourself from him. He hated that you had to do that when you’ve cried on his shoulders multiple times. He never liked seeing you cry; he just didn’t know that one day, he’ll be on the receiving end of your sadness. He watches you rub your forehead, biting your lip to stop yourself from crying. If you started crying, would he stay?
-
It’s been months since Carmy left. He’s been in his best form in the kitchen. He was making things easier for his staff; he was working twenty four hours a day. Going to The Bear early to help with prep; staying late to help them clean after a long shift of cooking and cooking and kitchen tours. He’s been getting acclaim—more acclaim, really. There was a waiting list on his restaurant and positive reviews from left and right flooded in. The Bear was dubbed as “The Restaurant of the Year” in Chicago despite being less than a year old.
He’s been doing good—perfect.
It was like he was a hamster in a fucking wheel with no other way to escape. He likes putting himself in gear, like driving fast because it makes him believe that nothing really hurts him. He didn’t like being at home; it reminded him too much of you. It reminded him of when you’d lean on the kitchen counter, a small smile on your lips while you watched him cook you something. He didn’t like sitting on the couch because it reminded him of when he slept with his head on your lap. He didn’t like it in his bedroom because he’s reminded of that night when you pulled him closer in your sleep. He didn’t like The Bear because the painting that you gave him hung so proudly by the dining area. It was marvellous—they said. How was he able to get a painting that you did when your art was so valuable and in demand?
He was moving so fast so you wouldn’t cross his mind but it seemed like no matter what he did, he'd end up thinking about you anyway.
It didn’t matter, how come a fall like that made him feel like flying? Maybe he’s waiting for it to hit him but he was feeling alright.
He was alright.
“Chef!” Sydney called, looking at Carmen who was chopping the vegetables like a madman. “Carmen!”
“Fuck, what, Sydney?!” he asked, slamming his knife on the counter.
“You’re bleeding,” Marcus told him and Carmen looked down, blood was all over the chopping board. “You’ve been bleeding for a few seconds now…we’ve all been calling your name, Chef.”
“Fuck, I-I-I’m…” Carmen was a blubbering mess, just watching his hand bleed like it didn’t matter. “I’m-I’m,”
“Take a break, Carm,” Sydney says but her partner just shakes his head. “Carm—“
“Sydney, don’t—don’t make me take a fucking break, please.”
“You’ll need to clean up and make sure there’s no more blood,” Sydney told him. “I’m not fucking around,”
“Yeah,” he nods, putting his fist over his heart and drawing circles. Sydney nods and Carmy fixes his station.
He couldn’t stop shaking, though. Even Tina saw how his hand trembled. What the fuck?
“Carmen,”
“Yeah…just…just give me a second, please.” he nods, picking his knife again and doing everything perfectly. Like clockwork. He’s back. He’s back. He’s fine. I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m alright.
PART 2
AN: Thank you for the love! This is going to be a two-part fic because I love how everything is right now… Don’t forget to comment / reblog if you like it! I read every single little thing you guys type…even the hashtags.
TAGLIST: @kpopgirlbtssvt @morgthemagpie @hal3ynicol3 @1800-queen-trash
#carmen berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto angst#carmen berzatto smut#carmen berzatto fluff#carmy berzatto x reader#fanfiction#fanfic#carmen berzatto fanfiction#carmen berzatto#angst#smut#fluff#the bear#the bear fx#carmy berzatto smut
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