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nerdishpursuits · 11 days ago

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This show really said Nihil sine Marta. There's no front where she doesn't have to do battle and defend. The sheer amount of pressure she's under right now is overwhelming. If Marta gets out of this without any health issues, I'd be surprised. At least there's a silver lining. For while most of the world is out to destroy her, she finds solace, passion and love in Fina's arms. They are each other's strength and watching them reaffirm their devotion and commitment to each other, time and again, is both heartwarming and inspiring.

I don't think I've ever seen such a well-developed sapphic relationship on TV. It feels like a breath of fresh air and it's a joy to watch it unfold and grow. They’ve planted their flag and defend it, standing tall in the face of so much adversity. How far they’ve come. Does it mean they are unafraid now? Of course not. But they are embracing their truth and choosing each other every day in spite of that fear. Because the love they have for each other is worth fighting for, is worth facing the entire world for.

Speaking of an unfolding narrative. They are truly putting them through the ringer. And it's most likely only the tip of the iceberg. The constant stress they are under is debilitating. Inimicus ante Portas: hurling their accusations, making their demands, snarling in condescension. There's blood in the water and Marta's enemies would only declare themselves sated if they were to witness her downfall, professionally and personally. At this point in the narrative, it's a miracle she's still standing. But like she confessed to Fina: as long as they have each other? Marta will not fall. Therefore, I find myself dreading the kind of blow that would bring Marta to her knees. The kind of blow that would pull Fina asunder too. Would it make for delicious angst? Certainly. Would it hurt? Most definitely.

Nevertheless, while all those fires rage and consume? Marta de la Reina continues on her own quest, one that bestows upon her the title of Great, True Romantic. Endangered too. For hopelessly romantic she is. Judging by the way Mafin is written? I'm inclined to think it's mostly penned by someone who is either profoundly in love, or someone who has loved beyond measure. I also suspect it's most likely a woman / women. For who else bleeds on the page this way? Don't you see, we only have each other. You are everything to me. My strength, everything. I am safe as long as you are safe. There is no turning back, I cannot conceive of my life without you. By your side, I feel that I can face the entire world. The only thing that could undo me is losing you ... I don't want you to suffer and endure humiliation the way that I have. My sole desire is for your safety ... You will not lose me ... I’ve spent half my life adrift, bound to the inertia of others, confined to the shadows, until I found her and she became my light. You cannot ask me to give her up, because you’d be asking me to die while my heart still beats.

It will be an arduous uphill battle but I think Marta's words are also prophetic in nature. There is no turning back for them. The road ahead is together, as one, no matter the sorrow, no matter the cost. Regardless of how much they'll have to wander? Through hope and despair and back again? As long as they have each other? They are not lost.

Speaking of their wanderings through the land of plot. Chairwoman Marta. Pelayo's confession that Marta is his lover, while briefly throwing Don Pedro off the scent, most likely feeds into Carpena’s misogyny. To me he comes across like the kind of man who, deep down, believes women don’t belong in business. The kind of man who thinks women only succeed when they play the seduction card. Which is infuriating for someone of Marta's caliber, who has worked her fingers to the bone to be worthy of her current position. Her intellect, determination and hard work won her the mantle of leadership. Maybe the show wasn't even trying to make this point but Carpena's immediate, sleazy grin upon hearing Pelayo's confession? It irked me because, of course, the only possible way Marta could have gained Pelayo's interest and favor? Her womanly wiles. Points for Pelayo, though. Seems like he's trying to be a good friend and protect Marta as much as he can. And on to rant some more (I'm afraid this post is getting out of hand - for the life of me, I can't seem to keep it short *sigh*)

I’m not one to cuss (much, eh @midniteowlet 😏?) but today it feels warranted. All the idiots coming out of the woodwork with pitch-forks and battle-rams and having lost their intellect, meagre as it is, along the way.

The Merino Bros & their mommy dearest, Pedro and, quite possibly, Tasio? A tomar por cu**.

Marta's face listening to lunacy after lunacy is an absolute poem.

Currently? Marta is the only one making informed decisions that benefit them all. Alongside Damián? She’s the only one who knows how to run the business so they all stand to gain and the workers have job security (I suppose Jesús has business acumen too but his Machiavellian ways leave a lot to be desired)

Which makes it pretty obvious they were going to try and take Marta down. That all these spineless, envious men cannot stand seeing a woman in power. A woman who outsmarts them at every turn and who actually thinks things through.

On the bright side? Should Marta lose the executive chair? I want to see how mama’s boy Joaquin goes running to Marta &. co. later, begging for help, because he’s sinking the business with his arsinine attitude and decisions. I want the Merino to fail so spectacularly they choke on it.

The business with the bathhouse will go up in flames because Joaquin and Luis lack intuition for business. What drives them is an underlying desire for vengeance and a need to satisfy their ego by calling the shots. Competency is not part of their vocabulary. They’re utterly insufferable, terribly immature and are woefully unprepared for what it means to be in charge. Their incompetency, if left unchecked, will prove disastrous for the company.

And then we have Digna. On the one hand? She lived up to her name and acted with dignity, keeping the promise she made Marta and Fina: that she would protect their secret and would never expose them. The fact that she made it clear to Pedro she wouldn't use such harmful rumors to hurt her niece, or the young woman she considers a daughter? It speaks of her capacity to empathize and understand. On the other hand? Her lack of business expertise shows in how she approaches the bathhouse project. She tries to gaslight Marta with talk of family and respect, while showing Marta absolutely no deference or familial support. Digna possesses zero knowledge about running a company. But she has the gall to lecture Marta about it, all because her crybaby sons demand instant gratification and loathe the fact that Marta is in power. The Merino are a sorry bunch and while I feel truly sorry for Gervasio’s demise? If he was as good a business man as his sons? I see why Damián felt he needed to run the company himself (I don’t agree with his methods, of course, but one cannot deny that the Merino family are an executive liability). It also irks me that Digna has the nerve to condescendingly call Marta daughter, while going behind her back and giving Tasio the proverbial knife, urging him to betray his sister. And to think Marta, generously and kindly, wanted to give Tasio a chance. Felt indebted to him, even, and wanted to start anew, as siblings. No matter how they twist and turn his character, he ends up falling short somehow. Or doesn't he?

And since Tasio dearest is next on the block? Much like the Merino brothers? A deplorably mediocre man, crying to Marta about how dependent he is on his wife. For how dare Marta send Carmen on a business trip, which is part of her responsibilities as store overseer, given he cannot function without her help?

Poor Tasio. Who’s going to do the dishes now, who’s going to iron his shirts and cook his meals? Woe be him. I honestly can’t with his level of incompetence and stupidity. To have the gall to launch veiled threats at Marta concerning her relationship with Fina (trying to take credit for piecing it all together while knowing full well it’s Carmen who dropped the ball, spectacularly might I add) and insinuating Marta is playing favorites? The level of idiocy this man possesses is truly astounding. As is the level of self-projection Tasio is doing here. Quite noteworthy.

If he only stopped to think for a minute, he’d realize:

1. Fina is Carmen’s right hand at the store. As such, she has the most experience to help out in this situation.

2. Marta emphasized it’s a temporary solution. Tasio’s entire reasoning here is a case of that aforementioned self-projection: he knows full well he’d show favoritism if he were in charge, which is something he confessed to Carmen he’d do. So Tasio filters Marta’s decision through his own, faulty thought-sieve. Heavens help him. Not to mention he's also easy to manipulate. That moral high-horse the Merino are riding? I can't wait to seem them all trampled into the dirt.

3. Mighty hypocritical of Tasio to claim Fina is being ascended (again, temporarily) due to special treatment, when his own promotion is a case of nepotism (unlike his wife, who Marta ascended based on her competence and hard work - wife, who Tasio never threw his support behind, too jealous of her new position). Same story with the shares Tasio received from Marta. His level of entitlement here? It’s that outlandish and that outrageous.

That being rambled? Because Tasio is often such a narrow-minded, pathetic little man? He might cast the deciding vote to remove Marta as CEO. For while Tasio often wants to best himself? He also remains profoundly petty, terribly misinformed and someone who shouldn't be sitting on board meetings. Were it not for Marta’s kindness and goodwill? He’d only have his father’s name and gratitude, and little else.

And what’s going to be Marta’s thank you for it all? Quite possibly a knife to the back. Should that occur, which it might, I do wonder how Tasio thinks he will fit within the de la Reina family in the aftermath? After all, his display of ''business shrewdness'' would prove ruinous. Even Jesús votes for Marta (because in spite of their differences he recognizes she is smart, would never vote against his family and sees the Merino brothers for the fools they truly are) And that’s saying something. So if Tasio really wants to become a pariah in the eyes of his new family? By all means. Vote with their incompetent adversaries. Ultimately, Damián will be more lenient in forgiving him, I suspect. But Tasio would be proving himself undeserving, uninformed, unreasonable and willfully ignorant. Of course, previews are often deliberately misleading and who knows, another Brutus might be lurking in the shadows. Andres maybe? He's so utterly useless, incompetent and easy to manipulate it's pathetic. If Jesús remains the only brother who amounts to anything? Oh, the laughter.

Sure, things might not go down that way at all. Marta might not lose the executive chair, Tasio might not vote against her while Andres could and Don Pedro could resort to blackmail to remove her from the board. As always, we shall see when the episode airs. But goddamn, these PEEople are beyond exhausting. Marta needs that vacation with Fina and she needs it yesterday.

P.s the last gif on the right? that's also me upon realizing how goddamn verbose this post is. Off to word-jail with me!!!

#mafin #mafin commentary #marta de la reina #fina valero #sdl #suenos de libertad

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carmenized-onions · 9 months ago

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Doing Too Much. | House Call

logline; Appliances can reach their breaking point, when you push them too far. Same goes for people.

[!!!] series history, this is the sixth; First, Second, Third, Fourth, Fifth

[New Thing!!] Spotify Playlist, if you like to listen while you read. I listen to it when I write :) Constantly gettin' added to.

portion; 4.8k

possible allergies; eatin' meat, besides that, we're pretty good actually. did somebody say calm before the storm....?

pairing; Carmen ‘Carmy’ Berzatto & Fem Reader (no pronouns, but girl is said a couple times, i believe.)

After this chapter, I'm entering my era of couch hopping as I move to a new city n start a new job. I'm really excited for the chapter after this one, so hopefully I actually get time to write it-- But that's just my lil warning if you're left rereading for like two weeks </3 But I'll def be stalking my activity/inbox so please do yap to me

Monday morning. The next morning after everything. Well, closer to noon than morning, at this point. You’re supposed to have, what, a work ethic this week? After the most insane weekend of your life? No. You’re lazing around and doing fuck all. No matter who calls. Well… Not completely no matter, but like, most people.

When you check your phone, you’ve gotten a text at 6:43 A.M. Unknown number. Ah. Carmen. You put him in as Carmy, and put his nickname as ‘Mister New York’. Listen, old nicknames Mikey ingrained in your brain die hard.

It’s a simple text, deeply un-romantic.

‘Connections Puzzle #342’

Then, four lines of four perfect categories. Flawless. Purple first, even. The hardest category. And then,

‘Morning’

Stupid. Incredibly stupid, to be enamoured, by this. You reply,

‘Good morning!’

‘Connections Puzzle #342’

And then a failed jumble of coloured squares, you get one out of four categories. What the fuck is 'dogleg' and since when has it meant taking a sharp turn? You follow that up with,

‘Fuck you.’

Aside from Carmen, you’ve actually gotten texts from a couple people. Your boss at Eden’s asking if you’re alright. What the fuck did Cicero say? Oh well. You tell him you’ve ‘been better, been worse. Will be okay by next week.’ Perfectly vague, and you still get wired your cheque and tip out. Alright, maybe Uncle J does deserve your free labour.

Speaking of, the next text on your itinerary is from Uncle J, just info for the winter nuptials of Vinnie and Mira. Oh yeah. Three-hundred guests, you remember that part. You also remember him saying it’d be an ‘easy gig’… He did not mention you’d be the only bartender. This is going to be a nightmare. Oh well. You text back that despite it being an open bar you get to put out a tip jar. He just reacts to it, ‘haha’. That sounds like a yes to you.

And then, adorably, a selfie from Syd, wearing the collar and pins you’ve gifted her, under a green sweater. Cutie. You hype her up accordingly.

Besides some texting though, Monday is relatively unbusy. No calls. No emergencies. No businesses knocking down your door for your services. You’re thankful for a break, letting the inertia set in, finally being able to relax after fix after fix after—

Tuesday comes, you get sent another perfect round of New York Time’s Connections around half past six in the morning, along with a good morning text. And again, you fuck it up. You send him your Wordle results this time, as an act of rebellion. You then ask,

‘How’s reworking the menu going?’

‘Hard to say’

‘Ask me tomorrow’

God he’s an awful texter. Horrifically dry. You know you’re down bad beyond a belief when you find that endearing. You spend Tuesday drowning and pruning your plants after depriving them for so long.

Plus working on your art piece for Carmy. You’re pulling out old film photos, a canvas, and a load of bleach—It’s like high school art class all over again— Surprise surprise, the handyman who loves to up-cycle is a mixed media artist. Who could’ve guessed?

While trimming a photo, an exterior of The Beef, a picture frame on your wall falls down behind you, you tut, turning your head to it, chastising the air. “Mikey! It’s a copy, relax! I’ve still got the original print…”

There’s every chance you’re insane— No, you’re definitely insane. But you’re allowed to be, your best friend died, you’re allowed to talk to the air as if he’s still around. Sometimes the timing of doors swinging open for you and things falling down are just too uncanny to not be a ghost.

Wednesday arrives, and again, just after 6:40, Connections results. And the Wordle, this time; plus a ‘Good Morning’. It looks like this is simply just your thing, now. Every morning, the second both of you get up, you send each other puzzles and wish a good morning. You don’t mind that. It’s nice to have a ‘thing’, with someone. With Carmen.

Part way through the day, around two o’clock, you get another text. Two, actually. From Carmen, in quick succession.

‘Are you busy?’

‘Don’t worry if you’re busy. Can call Fak’

You’re quick to reply, frankly deeply offended.

‘Are you fucking firing me????’

‘I’m gonna get ready. Text me details’

While getting dressed, you watch three dots bubble, bubble, bubble… He’s taking forever, just don’t look at it, you’ll get anxious for no reason. No jumpsuit today, you’ve got to switch it up every now and again. Navy cargo pants with the perfect number of pockets and zippers, and an orange Chicago’s Kindest shirt, tucked in. Hm. Looking in the mirror, hickey is still there. Lighter, but there. Foundation? No. You’ll sweat it off and that’ll just bring up more questions. If Syd asks you’ll just tell her you fell down the stairs… On your neck. She's not the type to confront anything remotely sexual anyways.

Speaking of Syd, before Carmen can text you back, she calls you, which is fair— Don’t leave a Carmen to communicate. You stick your phone in the crux of your neck and answer while you pack your utility belt. This feels nearly nostalgic. “What’s fucked?”

Carmen is in the background; you can hear the tail end of a sentence, grumbling. “—Don’t call—”

“My life.” She responds without missing a beat. “And also, Carmy’s stove and oven.”

“Oh.” You squint. “What the fuck happened?”

“Overuse? I actually don’t fucking know, it just stopped working. We plugged it in and out— He even reset his apartment’s breakers. I dunno what’s wrong with it. It’s probably got something to do with him putting his fuckin’ jeans in there.”

“…He what?”

You can hear him in the background, again, clearer this time, grimacing, “What are you doing to me?”

Syd does not mind him at all, continuing, “I know! He’s fucking weird!”

“He’s extremely weird.” You like him a lot. “I’ll be over soon, were you guys like, mid-cooking?”

“Yessir.”

“Christ, alright… I think I have a dual burner hot plate laying around somewhere, you want me to bring it—”

They both speak clearly this time, together, “Please.”

You’ve got a pile of things to give to them anyways, and maybe you miss Carmy’s face. Just a little.

Instead of just buzzing you in, Carmy comes down for you. When he sees you through the door window, carrying a cardboard box, he almost breaks into a full run. He’s somehow opening the door, grabbing the box from your hands, and chastising you all at the same time. “You should’ve left it in the car, I would’ve—”

You step in through the entryway and kiss his cheek, cutting him short. You can’t help yourself, it’s the first time you’ve seen him since and you feel like a giddy teen. The teenage girl in your head is no longer just in your head, she’s fully manning the station. “You’re very sweet. But it’s also not heavy.”

When he continues to be frozen, the regret starts to mount, “Is—Sorry, is that okay to do—?”

“It’s very okay to do.” He manages to reply, with haste. Nodding to himself. “It’s good.” He nods again, then marches off, expecting you to follow to the elevator. You do.

“What floor?”

“Eighth.” He sniffs; you press the button. He stands next to you, looking you up and down. He astutely observes. “Orange.”

“Yeah.” You smirk, looking back at him, “Turns out, businesses can have two colours in their designs.”

What’s a little roasting of fellow small businesses between two not just friends?

“Oh yeah?” Coy, smirking. Oh no. You’ve gotta get the teen off the controls. He tilts his vision to stare at your jacket. Ah. You opted to wear your Carhartt instead of his jean jacket.

“Didn’t wanna give Syd more questions.” She already guessed you’re a sugar baby, you don’t want to wrap Carmen in on that too. Especially since ideally in a month or two he’ll be your boss. Hm. The Bear is going to need an HR.

He hums, nodding. “We’re not telling Syd?”

“What’s there to tell?” You grin, crossing your arms. “You suddenly have free time, Bear?”

He takes a beat, thinking, then just takes a deep frustrated yet amused exhale. “I’m gonna fuckin’…” He can’t think of a threat. “…Get you.”

You snort, “You’re gonna get me?”

“Fuck you—!” “You’re gonna fuckin’ get me, Bear?”

“I—” He tries to hold a straight face, it doesn’t work. “Yeah, I am.”

“Can’t wait.” You nod, grinning, turning back to the doors. “You told me to ask how menu’s going tomorrow.”

“I did.”

“It’s tomorrow.” The door dings, opening on the eighth floor; you step out together. He switches his grip to hold the box in one arm. Alright Biceps, we don’t need to brag here...

“It’s… We’re getting there.” He grimaces. “Syd’s recipes are always… Almost perfect.”

“Ah.” You nod, you know your friend well enough to know where this is going. “And she fucks up one thing hard?”

“Mhm.”

“And when you tell her it’s okay and give her a hand she just feels worse?”

He nods. A touch surprised you’re right on the dot so quickly. “Everything ends up perfect, but I think she’s finding the edits…”

“Demoralizing.” You walk down the hall together, he nods. “I know what she needs, I’ll find an in.”

“You always do.” He hums, you walk just a touch ahead of him, unknowingly walking past his door. He pulls you back by the back of your jacket, making you stumble back into him. This seems to be this villain’s intention; as when you turn around, he’s quick to grab your chin and kiss you.

“It’s very good.” He emphasizes, again, before opening his door and acting like everything’s totally normal and fine. Since when did he turn the tables and make you the desperate one? Son of a bitch.

Ah. Actually, subtract any attraction you had in this moment— He lives like this? Books on the floor, by the window. Jeans on the dinner table, because they were in the oven. The kitchen actually looks alright— You’re almost certain that’s purely for utilitarian purposes while they’re working on the menu. This motherfucker better have a bed frame or him asking you to sleep over would be downright offensive. God, he’s wonderful. God, you’re an idiot.

You find Syd at the table, moping, head in hands. Carmen sets the box down, sitting beside her. You pat the top of her head. She silently moves one of her hands to go over yours. You nod. The silent exchange of girls who know.

“Yeah?”

She nods, grumbling. “Yeah.”

Carmen has no fucking idea what’s happening and he’s never been more intrigued by a near wordless social interaction in his entire life. What? You’re not even making eye-contact. What the fuck is happening?

You fish through the box with your free hand, grabbing a pot. You place it in front of Syd. “Look.”

She peeks through her fingers. A tiny but flourishing nursery pot of basil sits before her. You speak. “You’re gonna hyper-fixate on this basil I’m gifting you, and then you’re gonna crack back into it with the dual burner until I’m done fixing the oven.”

She nods, putting her hands in her lap, “Yes, Chef.”

You pull out a second nursery pot, setting it down for Carmen. “For you.”

“What for?”

“Basil grows like a motherfucker and it’s getting unhinged. I need to start pawning off to people that’ll make good use of it. A-K-A, chefs.” You look at Syd, pointedly, “Talented chefs.”

You hand off the heating pad— Wrapped in brown paper with a card tied to it, to Carmen. “For Nat.” You add, when he looks confused, “Can’t imagine I’ll see her sooner than you will.”

He looks even more confused, when you hand him a spray bottle full of reddish water. It’s one of the good spray bottles, too. Continuous. Carmen wouldn’t know the difference, but you do. “Rosemary. —Water, that is.”

He squints; you clarify, gesturing to your own hair. “You mentioned, losing hair, so— Thought I’d make some, with the trimmings of rosemary I had. Got ginger and cloves in it, too.”

Why have you trapped him in hell? You’ve remembered such a specific off hand from days ago and acted on it? And he can’t express the grandiose level of affection he feels right now? Are you serious? You’re the devil. You’re absolutely the devil. He just coughs out a ‘thanks’.

“And, the pièce de résistance,” You pull out the old ass, boxed up double burner countertop stove. “A stovetop that ideally fuckin’ works. It was my single claim to fame in my college dormitory.”

Carmen’s already opening the box. Sydney smirks, curiosity peaked. “Was that legal?”

“You a fuckin’ RA?” You grin, poking her forehead. “It was not. And that’s exactly why everyone loved me— Didn’t serve them fuckin’ hot pockets.”

The configurations of Carmen’s apartment would be great for literally any occasion besides the current one. The kitchen is narrow, and so, when you pull out the stove to check the back, there’s an estimated no fucking room left for Carm and Syd, so they sit at the dinner table with your stove top. You’d think they’d look like they’re doing a cute hot pot. No. They look like two conflicted and confused twelve-year-olds working on a science project.

So do you, honestly. Wiring is definitely more your speed than plumbing, but if you’re being honest, this is the first oven you’ve worked on without your dad, and you’re having a hard time remembering everything. There’s a lot of embarrassed Googling on your phone, when you're sure they’re not looking. They can’t know you’re even slightly incompetent!

You’re pretty sure it’s just a couple damaged wires, fried from overwork— Easy fix, if you had wire. You don’t. Slightly harder fix. But soldering is your bitch really, you’re in your bag. You look stupid, wearing chunky goggles and a respirator, but you’re in your bag, baby! What’s that one saying? Skills make you hot? That’s not a saying.

But it is true. When Carmen’s able to peer into the kitchen, quickly looking over his shoulder when Syd takes a moment to write a measurement or direction down, you look stunning. Respirator and all. You just look correct there, in the kitchen. His kitchen. So stunning he feels guilty. Do you find it annoying? Constantly fixing errors behind him? Probably. You say it’s not a lot of work, but that can’t be true.

“How’s The Bear, ‘sides menu rework?” You ask, raising your voice in the kitchen.

“S’good.” Carmen. “I’m in hell.” Syd. Not hard to tell which statue is lying, here.

Syd stutters on, “Nat’s takin’ care of baby Michaela— Which is very good and—and cool, actually.”

“But?”

“But we’re back to handling the business side entirely ourselves, for like— The next month. Maybe two? Fuck, are we doing the wedding without her?” Sydney almost burns her sauce, Carmen’s quick to move it off the burner.

He mutters, “Don’t even start to think about it. It’s gonna be fine. We’re gonna figure it out.”

“Oh yeah, wedding— Have you gotten your menu yet?” You call from the kitchen, muffled by your respirator.

“Oh my god!” Sydney exclaims, and Carmen is wincing. She can’t tell you things are going wrong; doesn’t she know that? You’ll fix it, if things are wrong. You always fix it. Fix him. You’re gonna put him in your phone as Carmy Bad News. If you haven’t already. Start a support group with Tif.

Syd continues, “They’re so fucking particular and somehow also vague—Like, ‘we want salmon and chicken’ for main course— What kind of preparation? ‘Surprise us!’ Okay, how about roasted chicken—? ‘Mmmm, no, not that’. I’ve been told ‘non quello’ at least ten times in the last four days.”

No, you’re witty. Bad News Bear. Fuck, that’s definitely his name in your phone, isn’t it?

“Fuckin’ nightmare. Y’know, I’m the only fucking bartender? For like three hundred guests? Thank God they’re not asking for a custom cocktail or anything, I’d lose my shit.”

Sydney laughs, and she steps back into her flow easily, reducing the sauce without burning it, now. She looks more serene than she has in days. What? How are you doing that? What are you doing? Are you casting a spell?

“Can you even fucking imagine what their couples’ cocktail would be?”

You groan from the kitchen, laughing in return, “Not you too, Syd! Must you make me work!?”

“C’mon maestro, make a cocktail!”

“Bleh. Uh… They give long island iced tea energy, but it’s a wedding so— Like a boozier negroni?”

“That sounds fucking disgusting.”

“I didn’t say it’d be good, I said it’d be their couples’ cocktail.” You’re both giggling, like school girls. It’s like you said— You become teens, together.

Despite the fact that Syd is making an incredibly complex dish, and you’re fixing an oven—His oven— Ridiculing the other impossible tasks set out for the both of you… Despite all of that, you’re laughing.

Carmen is, what, nearly thirty? A restaurant owner, with a full crew, who attends Al-Anon, and is only now truly registering the power of an unsolvable burden being shared. Not fixed, shared. Talking. Laughing. God, this all comes so easy to you, doesn’t it?

You finish soldering, test each burner, and the oven— All working, thank God. You quietly cheer in the kitchen, removing your respirator and goggles. “We’re good here! Fixed!”

“C’mere!” Syd calls out to you, and so you do. Eagerly. She hands you a fork. Unprompted, she does the thing. You’d missed the OG, really.

“Beef Oxtail, pressed in a Foie Gras casing, seared. Basted in a King Oyster mushroom sauce. Pureed greens on the side.”

“I never know what the fuck you’re saying.”

She pushes the side of your face with the palm of her hand. “Put it in your mouth and chew.”

You want to make some sort of kink joke, but you respect the already struggling man in the room and take a bite. Hm. Hm. You put a finger over your mouth, swallowing. “...Now it might just be my unrefined palate.”

“That’s why we have you try it.” Carmen pipes in. Syd nods, following. “It’s important to know the baseline.”

“…It’s got like,” You hand the fork to Syd so she can try it, while you think. “A bit of a bitter aftertaste? Which might be the… goal?”

Syd spits it out the second it touches her mouth, she shouts your name, your actual name— A rarity. She’s so terrified that she forgets the Walk-In bit she’s been in on all week. “I just fuckin’ poisoned you— Oh my god?! Are you good? That was— Fuck! You swallowed that?!”

She grabs your face like a concerned mother, also maybe to check if you have superpowers, you’re not sure. All you know is there’s a golden opportunity to make another sex joke and you have to hold back. Life is so unfair.

Carmen takes a quick taste, also spitting it out. “I’ve got it, Chef, don’t sweat.” Immediately looking to the drafted recipe card to see where they went wrong.

Syd almost squeezes your cheeks like a stress ball but thinks better of it, letting go, groaning, beyond frustrated at this point. “You shouldn’t have to fix it— I should fuckin’ have it, at this point.”

Carmen's trying to ignore how much he relates to the sentiment. He's not the focus, right now.

“We make mistakes, Chef—” “Syd.” You snap your fingers, pointing to her, interrupting Carmen. “Can you help me grab something, from my car? It’s kinda big.”

Carmen’s quick to chime in, already going to untie his apron, “I can—”

“No!” You look at him pointedly, trying to communicate through look alone. He kind of gets it? “It’s… Girl stuff.”

Syd squints. “You need me to help you carry a big girl thing?”

“…Are you fuckin’ helping or are you gonna poke holes?”

“What are you actually dragging me out for?”

“Technically I do actually need your help grabbing something, it’s just not a girl thing. And it's also not from my car.”

“Oh?”

You walk out of Carmen’s building with his keys, and gesture out to every apartment buildings treasure trove— The spot everyone throws their furniture when they move out and don’t know what else to do with it.

“Bookshelf!” There is actually one pristine looking bookshelf, a cheap one, definitely just something from IKEA. But it’s better than the fucking floor. “I spotted it on my way in, we’re gonna bring it up for Carm.”

She groans, hating the concept of manual labour, but still walks with you and grabs one end anyways. “Why didn’t you make Carmen carry his own bookshelf?”

“Because you need a fuckin’ pep-talk.” You pick the other end of the bookshelf up. It’s thankfully not that heavy. You walk backwards so you can keep facing Syd.

“…I don’t—” “Yes the fuck you do.”

She kisses her teeth, you frown. “What’s up, Adamu?”

“It’s just fucking annoying— I keep, I keep fucking it up. I keep—Keep—”

“Doing too much.”

She gives you a look, ‘are you serious?’, type look. You continue. “You’re doing too much. You’re not cooking like you.”

“I can cook like Michelin—”

“I never said you couldn’t. Watch your step.” You interrupt, walking over a bump in the sidewalk. “You can do star level shit, Syd. But that’s a grade, not a type.”

She kind of reels, at that. You continue, “You cook great complex dishes, you always have, I’ve tried them. But now, you’re all caught up trying to prove some shit, to Carmen, to—to— Who gives stars? The tires guy?”

She laughs, almost dropping the bookshelf. “Yeah, I’m trying to impress the tires guy.”

“Fuck you.” You snort, stepping up the stairs. “What I’m trying to say is, you should make what you want to eat, not what you think you should eat.”

She nods, you stop on top of the stairs, both taking a second to breathe. “…Thanks.”

You nod back, hands on your knees for a second before standing back up, opening the lobby door. “I’ll always be your cheerleader, Syd.”

“More like coach.”

“Can you let me have one hot girl career, please?”

When you get back up to Carmen’s, he’s already grimacing. You and Syd are split apart by the bookshelf standing between you in the hall. “Fuck is this?”

“It was free and I’ll clean it!” You press your hands together pleading. “C’mon, you can even put your jeans in it!”

“Jeans on a bookshelf?”

You turn to Syd. “Better than the oven.”

“I think he’s doing that to dry them.”

“I think it’s ‘cause he doesn’t own a dresser.”

“It’s both.” Carmen clicks his tongue, single-handedly picking up the bookshelf and carrying inside. Alright, does he need to show off this much? Whatever. It’s definitely not making you feel any type of way at all.

You squint, watching him walk further in his apartment, and then to Syd. You speak at the same time. “He stays doing too much.”

As promised, you wipe down the bookshelf, making sure it’s free of grime and roadside pests. Syd and Carmy work together in the kitchen, with a now functioning oven. You load the shelf up with the books on the floor— Thankfully they’re piled into categories already, so you don’t have to bother him about that.

You’re tempted to clean his living room, but that would probably be rude, right? Don’t want him to take it as you saying he’s a slob. But they are taking a while… Alright, you’ll just throw out trash. You won’t fold blankets or pick up dishes or anything. Just trash! No big! He can’t be mad at you for that.

You pile together the garbage, then sneakily throw it out in the kitchen trash can as fast as you can, before he looks. He’ll think he’s just sleep cleaning, or something. “How’s it goin’ in here?’

Carmen pipes up, eyes focused on the dish as Syd plates it. “Good.” Syd holds the plate in one hand, and silently corrals you with the other to sit at the table. You do. She sets it down the plate before you, handing you a fork and knife.

You look up at her expectantly. She shakes her head. “Eat first, this time.”

She looks serious, so you nod, cutting into the dish. It’s different from the last one. Instead of oxtail, it’s pastry. Or at least, a puff pastry exterior. You’re pretty sure it’s Pillsbury, you remember Carmen buying that, the other day, on your excursion.

Inside it, you believe is the beef oxtail, there’s other things, too. Some sort of sauce, some greens— Oh well, no time to bask in the cross section because Syd looks like she’s about to explode. You take a bite. You nod, chewing.

Syd starts, “Searing the duck caused the bitter taste— So instead of- Of searing the outside, I coated it in the mushroom sauce, the greens— Not pureed, this time, for texture. Your basil, too. There’s a crumble of feta, for a subtle tang. And then wrapped it all together in puff pastry, and baked. It’s sort of like, a varied take on a beef welling—”

“You made a fucking gourmet hot pocket?” You swallow, wheezing. The second you say this, Sydney’s focused face beams, laughing, like she’s just pulled off the most perfect prank of all time.

Carmen was so intrigued and focused on Sydney’s explanation, that you watering it down to hot pocket and being right makes his entire system reboot. He cannot stop smiling, aghast. He's been helping Syd make a hot pocket for the past hour?

“I told you to make what you want and—” wheeze “—you make a fucking hot pocket?!” You double down, laughing with her, she’s trying to defend herself but she can’t stop wheezing in tandem.

“I— I can’t fuckin’ stand you!” You snort, covering your face with your arm. “I hate your ass, oh my God, Syd.”

“Did—” snort “What did you think?” She recovers, slowly but surely.

You shake your head, handing her the fork. “It’s sick, Syd, obviously, it’s fucking perfect… Chef.” You tack on at the end, almost forgetting. “I’m not gonna be able to have an actual hot pocket, ever again. You’ve ruined my life.”

She takes a bite for herself, nodding. She does a small cheer, pumping her fist. “Let’s fucking go.” She points her fork at you— Purely on muscle memory, and you both instantly remember the days of her testing out recipes and you pairing them on first taste. She’d point her fork to you like a microphone. It was a fun game between two nerds.

It’s a reflex response for you, even now. “Barolo. Savory, dry, red. A young one, though. Light body. Could also do an Amarone, if you’re not buried in money.”

She hands the fork off to Carmy to try it, then writes the pairings down, mumbling, amusement still in her voice. “How the fuck do you do that?”

“I honestly don’t know. I think I have some wires crossed.”

“Fire, Chef.” Carmen swallows his bite. “We cannot call it a hot pocket on the menu.”

“Then what’s the point!?”

Leaving Carmen’s place is objectively the most awkward experience— But also the funniest. You offer to wait for Syd and drive her home— You’ll need a second to pack anyways while they make their business plans.

When you do offer, of course, Carmen stutters short, almost asking you again to sleep over or at the very least stay late, but saves it, realizing himself.

Syd accepts the ride offer. You pack up and wait for her to be done. When she is, Carmen offers to carry your things down with you both, in which Syd accuses him of thinking you’re both weaklings— He does not have a defense case for this, he has to let you go. You can tell he wants to kiss you at the door, and you do too. Sadly, you’re equally down bad, but he can’t know that…

You say your goodbyes, Syd helps you load your tools and hotplate in the trunk of your car. Your phone vibrates. Text from Mister New York.

‘Look up I’m on the balcony. 8 floors.’

You look up, sure as shit, he’s out there, cigarette in mouth. Unlit. He waves, you wave back. He texts again, in rapid succession.

‘Thank you’

‘For helping Syd’

‘And the oven and the hot plate and the bookshelf (not necessary)’

‘nbd + I think it’s v necessary’ Does Carmen understand acronyms? You’re risking it, here.

‘and cleaning my trash’ Sonofabitch.

‘ah fuck. I don’t think you’re messy!!! I just wanted to help!!!’

‘I know. You’re you. Be safe.’

Oh goddammit, stupid dry texter, saying something so gah. You jump as Syd taps the roof of your car behind you, getting your attention. Watching from a far distance, Carmen laughs, though you don’t notice it.

“Are we going?”

“Yes! Sorry!” You hurriedly pocket your phone, waving one last time as you get in your car. Syd sits beside you in shotgun, her pot of basil sat safely in her lap. You drive off.

You’re half way down the road, when Syd pipes up again. “So y’all are fucking, correct?”

You almost brake check the guy behind you.

“How do you fuckin’ do that!?”

the opening is dedicated to my dear friend and i who have sent our wordle results to each other everyday for the past like year and a half.

Things of note, one - people usually skip the shit up top-- I made a spotify playlist! Listen if you like, I'm not your dad.

Two, I know this is a self insert right, i know what I set myself up for-- Do you know the hell i am in as a syd x carmy girl writing scenes with both of them and it NOT being them? What have I done, to myself? The only coping mechanism I have is imagining in this universe Syd is a lesbian. And that is helping.

The hot pocket recipe-- Who fucking knows, if that would taste good? I think it would? In theory? I fucked with a dish from Daniel NYC, to make it into a bit. Would it work? ....Beef wellingtons do, I can't see why this can't???? Idk man.

Rosemary water w cloves and ginger does fucking work btw. I am part of the so stressed out i lost my hair brigade. Also basil does grow like a motherfucker.

We're seein' a little bit of that tenseness that comes with being in an 'almost relationship' both of them feel like they've got something they can fuck up now. Poor birds. They'll be okay. Probably.

I'm really excited for the next chapter, I don't wanna give shit away, but it's gonna be,,,,,, different. I haven't seen anyone try this kinda formatting on tumblr before, and I'm excited to see what you think. Between my moving and how complex the choreography of it is gonna be, it's gonna be a much longer minute between this chapter and the next, I fear. But listen, you already knew your ass was gettin' spoiled with a chapter every two days. Hehe.

As always, please come yap to me in the replies/inbox/dms/reblogs. I love to hear thoughts!! It sustains me, baby!!

Next Part

#carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmen x reader #carmy berzatto #carmy x reader #the bear fanfiction #the bear x reader #the bear #the bear fx #carmy the bear #carmen berzatto x female reader

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thomaslittlegirl · 12 days ago

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could we have some smut with bill furlong? 🫣 something where yn is his stress relief and he is very sub with her and pathetic and begs her to fuck him slowly and passionately 😩😩😩😩

i love how pathetic is here :( i need to make him feel good!!

heavenly. bill furlong

warnings; sub!bill, breeding, kinda cockwarming.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

"baby, please." bill murmurs under his breath. his hands caress your back up and down inside your shirt.

furlong had gotten home from work about half an hour ago and had taken a shower, quickly putting on comfortable clothes to get to your side.

he had missed you so, so much.

your eyes look at him with love and one of your hands rests on his cheek, caressing it out of inertia.

"please... let me fuck you." he asks in a choked voice. "let me be inside you... i need to feel you all warm inside..."

the man looks at you with bright eyes, putting on his best angel face. he can't wait another second, he needs to bury himself in your warmth.

when you nod your head, the man smiles weakly and begins to remove the bottom of your clothes, leaving you naked from the waist down.

his mouth begins to salivate just seeing you like this, so exposed to him. he quickly takes off his shirt and pants, demonstrating his lack of underwear. he was prepared, looking forward to this moment. his cock stirs annoyingly against his stomach, aching for relief.

bill wets two of his fingers with his saliva and brings them closer to your crotch, helping to get you wet so you can take in his length. a few seconds after feeling his fingers you get tired: you want his cock.

"please... just fuck me." you ask.

bill removes his fingers from inside you and slowly inserts himself into you, biting his lips when he feels how tight you are. he waits a few seconds for you to get used to the intrusion, knowing that it wouldn't be pleasant for you if he started to move.

when your hips begin to sway, furlong understands that you are ready and begins to push and penetrate you.

gasps escape his mouth as he feels you getting easier to slide. "you're so wet... you feel so wet and hot... it's like heaven..."

bill gets so lost in his own thoughts that he doesn't seem to notice that his thrusts are becoming erratic. you feel so good around him that he can only close his eyes and wait for the orgasm to take him.

"let me be in charge." you ask, when you notice how tiredness takes over. bill lets himself be done as you want and his body hits the mattress, sighing when he feels you on top of him, lining up his cock at your hole.

lne of bill's favorite things was when you took control. he thought you looked beautiful and he loved feeling used by you. he cums too much when you both were in this pose.

"it feels so good to ride you... i could ride your cock for hours." your words echo in his head and he feels the corners of his eyes fill with tears.

his hands curl around your waist and he sits on the bed, resting his head on your chest as you move harshly.

"please don't stop... don't stop, doll. you feel so good... you're making me feel so good... please." bill blurts out words as he cries and squeezes your waist, feeling overwhelmed by the pleasure.

"am i making you feel good, love?" you ask softly, curling your arm behind his neck.

"so good... you're an angel... you're an angel to me... you're going to make me cum."

you smile, feeling your legs starting to cramp. "me too... im about to..." you speak as you try to get off his lap. his big hands prevent you.

“no… no…” he begs with desperation in his voice, holding you in place as his hips begin to thrust upwards. "let me cum inside you. let me fill you... i've been good... please..."

your eyes widen in amazement. you always fucked without a condom but when he was about to cum he would pull out. a method that was not very functional but that had served them until now, by the grace of fate.

"please. i just want to fill you, don't you want that? don't you want to feel full of my cum? please, it will feel good... i promise."

his words convince you quickly and you nod at the man's teary eyes. your hips move again and they meet the furlong thrusts.

it's a matter of seconds before you come around his cock and he follows seconds later, filling you to the brim.

bill sniffle, feeling overwhelmed by his orgasm. one of your hands caresses his hair and your heart warms when you see him slightly disheveled and tearful.

"was i good? was i good for you?" he asks, running his large hand down your back.

you nod, comforting him with your words. "yes, love. you made me feel really good."

he smiles briefly, hiding his face between your breasts again.

"i never want to leave your insides. your cunt feels heavenly."

#bill furlong x reader #bill furlong #small things like these #cillian murphy x reader #cillian x reader #cillian smut

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yellow-rose-embalmer · 25 days ago

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Aesop watches Victor turn around, holding the letter in an unsteady hand as he turns it over. He cannot help but notice more of that fiery... whatever his friend was made of. Not to mention a particularly large eye, staring right at him. He could not stop himself from stumbling backwards, despite himself. "That would be wise... perhaps something to cover your back, while you are there? If you are concerned about hiding it, of course..." Aesop is sorely lacking in the proper vocabulary for what kind of physiology is going on, but he has just enough knowledge to express that if hiding is needed, then the hand isn't the only thing that needs covering. They both wear masks, after all.

Once Victor has left, he reads over the words left for him, hands tensing and relaxing as he makes sense of what is before him. This is not something he can answer simply, not something that takes simply showing up to demonstrate. Maybe responding in kind will let him prove himself, let him state where he came from while trying to slip into these ill-fitting new ideas like shoes that had not been broken in. He will need to go back to where he can write these thoughts in solitude, of course.

"Hey doll! D'you happen to have a spare glove in that handy box of yours? Just one is fine!"

@the-bloodline-embrace

Aesop may have been caught organizing his box anyway as his eyes narrowed, lips that could not be seen pressed together in focus (he tended to make it a habit so he would not have to do it all at once or wind up with an untenable workload). Even so, he freezes, eyes widening upon hearing the voice behind him, as he slowly looks to confirm that which had quickly grown familiar.

"Ah... hello again. Y-you came at a good time, I was just making sure everything I had stored in here was properly stocked. Let me see..." As the embalmer opens up his kit fully to make sure he can see everything, running a finger down the collection to make sure he was looking in the right place, he reminds himself that he would practice getting used to these names, too. No matter how wrong it felt.

Finally, he fishes out a glove from one of the compartments, handing it over. "Here you go. I... hope this fits you well, Victor." The name slips out before he can stop himself. By the time he notices, he wants almost to fade away, to ask the man before him to forget what just happened. But all that comes out is a weak "...sorry."

#yellow rose embalmer replies #tbf aesop NEEDS someone to challenge his bullshit to get anywhere on character development #something something newton's law of inertia #something something if the man was going to put his own self together he would have at least a little progress by now #this is what happens when both parties don't have much prior experience #once again layers of clothing symbolizing showing emotion lets gooooo (vic your back is OUT to the world)#they will take whatever they can get until they realize the consequences of such things #he's pulled off the “stop bullshitting” thing twice. he can do it again. not intentionally though #guy who speaks in mistruth and guy who cannot tell the first guy is speaking in mistruth and is too earnest for his own good...#and yes i do plan to have aesop hand in his own letter like a homework assignment when these fools meet next <3

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rewritingcanon · 3 months ago

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hpng characters and how they study for exams because im literally dying rn

rose- academic weapon. need i say more. she has the pomodoro technique down pat. she’s the girl at your local library claiming an entire table with an outlet to herself so she can plug her chunky ass laptop into it and make sure it doesn’t explode on her. she has a sugary iced drink near her at all times but she only takes a sip when she feels she’s deserved it. she eats dinner at 1am because she will not let herself move from her desk until she’s completed the practicals she has laid out in front of her. but trust that she’s losing hair and she’s greasy asf and her short fuse is basically nonexistent. she’s also always randomly sick during exam prep, but her symptoms are never bad enough to warrant a doctor’s visit, it’s only hella inconvenient so she’s chugging neuyrofen and vitamin c like her life’s on the line. no special consideration for her. when she experiences one minor setback (technical malfunction, stubbed her toe, bit her tongue etc) she starts angry crying immediately. just don’t speak to her during exam time, she’ll slap you for breaking her concentration.

albus- exam period what exam period. what are you talking about. these assignments aren’t worth half of his grade what do you mean. you’re telling him the essay was due at 5pm today and not 11:59………………. number one— doesn’t cope well at all. in denial until the twenty-four hour mark before his assignments are due and then will lock in as hard as he can but it is absolutely not a pretty process. so don’t even talk to him about it before then. number two— it’s not like he was relaxing during swotvac (idk the british term for swotvac leave me alone) period, my boy was stressed asf he was just procrastinating. you know when you’re too stressed to do literally anything. albus is a prisoner during exam period free my boy. he can’t study, he can’t relax. when he fucks up because of his poor time management he will psychoanalyse everything about himself and convince himself he’s the stupidest mammal to walk on two legs with five fingers. the mental abuse he puts himself through after submitting the shittiest 2000 word essay is crazy. but he is an affront to the english language (he’s surprisingly alright at exams cuz he’s really good at bulshitting, just don’t make him write anything longform 😭 he can’t back up his impassioned opinions with any evidence ok)

victoire- she is the influencer on studytok that makes studying for eight hours straight look like the most aesthetically pleasing pastime ever. her skin is clean, her hair is washed, her clothes are pressed, her eating and sleeping schedule is routine. she’s so not real.

james- most people think he’s an academic weapon because most people will just see the results he gets at the end of the marking period and conclude he’s hella smart. but if they saw the type of basement-dwelling creature he turns into during the study period they would be horrified. he doesn’t touch grass, he doesn’t leave his room, his lips are chapped asf. in fact his room is growing into a whole new ecosystem to account for the cave-dwelling lifestyle james has going on. he’s got the most psycho routine ever, no sane person would replicate this. he’s so mad-scientist-scribbling-incoherent-observations-at-his-barely-lit-desk-at-midnight core. he never sleeps, he only has intervals of three hour naps so it doesn’t disrupt his sleep inertia. friends can’t text or call or reach out to him— he’s on dnd for the next two weeks. you’d think he died. his siblings think he’s doing cocaine in his room to keep himself up. there is the occasional james sighting around 5am where he may trudge out of his room like a night stalker to make himself tea. his face is gaunt and ghostly and his body is brittle and awkward. don’t speak to him because he’s not going to respond he’s too busy spacing out through the entire exam period. if you do get a word out of him it’ll probably not be in a language understood in this world. best he keep to his room.

hugo- he’s absolutely broke yet the only way he can cope is through impulsive storms of online shopping and doing shopping hauls on his close friends. if he had it his way he’d wind down the night with some dti with the boys but hermione has that boy’s arse glued to the dining chair and she and rose are circling hawks scrutinising all of his answers and then insisting to mark his pracs for him. in all realness they do save him because his marks are always pretty good in the end.

teddy- simply did not study if the subject didn’t appeal to him. one of those woke students that truly believed that marks did not equate to worth. knew he would only feasibly want to pursue careers in the subjects he liked so would prioritise one or two subjects. motivational speaker to all his friends. actually didn’t let exams stop him from living his life. his speeches on the wotters aren’t so successful since a lot of them highkey gaf about their results. rose gets pissed off every time he tries with her. victoire politely ignores him. james is disassociating through the entire speech. he doesn’t even attempt it with percy’s kids. bad luck ted.

lily- if there is a person who is the exact type of person who isn’t built for studying, it’s her. she can get away with it at the start of her schooling, because she is quite smart, but when it gets serious its the biggest humbling ever. she just can’t lock in. she’ll have an exam the next day and suddenly she’s knocking on albus’ door and is willing and wanting to listen to him complain about Life Problem #218. she’s suddenly volunteering to help her mum garden and help her dad cook. she’s going to ‘study sessions’ with friends where she forces them to do anything but study. she’s binge watching shows with james. she’s picking up a new hobby in juggling. she’s attacked by a new hyperfixation she can’t get out of her head and she has to spend 6 hours a day looking at fanart. like girl go study. james will give her the most bomb (but lowkey psycho) tips on how to lock in and she’ll get motivated until she looks at her prac and sees an 8 mark short answer question. like goodnight she’s having a nap. also she eats everything in the fridge, no snacks are safe. fuck the no sugar rule fr. she’s not even hungry she just convinces herself she is so she can do literally anything else besides that 8 mark question waiting for her on her desk in her room.

dominique- would drop out.

scorpius- he’s a fucking freak because he probably likes the stress of exam period 💀 like he probs does feel stress about it, but since he’s always constantly stressed out this isn’t anything new to him. “i get to pour over all my in-detail notes i’ve written on all these subjects through the semester again?? and then do an assessment regarding the in-detail notes i have? yippee!!” his optimism is absolutely not shared by his peers but he’s so oblivious to it. he’s fantasising about what topic questions he’ll get and what his damn body paragraphs are going to be. he’s the guy seated behind you in the exam who unintentionally peer pressures you by requesting for another booklet because he’s written too much in the first. he’s the one joyfully skipping up to you after the test is over and excitedly asking for what you wrote about or what answers you got, and when he shares his responses with you, you realise his points were better or his answers were actually correct. and then he’s emailing his teachers every week asking for when the marks will be released because he’s just so excited. weirdo.

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hawkinshorror94 · 3 months ago

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Hi there! I was wondering if I could get an Astarion x fem reader where they help clean up and comfort Astarion after he defeats Cazador.

I hope you enjoy! As I wrote this I listened to a song called Serpents by Sharon Van Ettan and I linked it because it fits Astarion and Cazador's abusive dynamic. This reads as gn! Reader so you can imagine they are AFAB

The look on his face was one of stone, not seeing or hearing, he was effectively shut down as you cleaned the blood from his face and hair. He was numb, his fingertips and toes had little feeling and his mind was foggy with broken images of the days and years of abuse. Of the spawn, of Cazador of you.

“Are you okay?” You ask quietly as you bandage a nasty cut on his hand. It’s deep and nearly to the sinew but he seemed not to notice as you cares for it.

“No.” His voice is broken and soft as he speaks that word. No was okay, no you could deal with till the answer is different. When he looks up at you with his crimson eyes they have watery tears unshed on his lashes.

“That’s okay.” You assure him cupping the sides of his face. You wanted your touch to be grounding, a soothing balm to his breaking heart. You lower you both to the floor of his tent allowing his head to rest in your lap and he cries.

He cries for his sins and Cazador’s. For a life lost and one gained. He clung to you like a light in the darkness and maybe that’s what you were his lighthouse. His light and his love.

“I keep thinking he isn’t gone.” Astarion murmurs into your trousers as he clutches the fabric in his fist. Your hand smooths his downy curls and across his jawline, your hands ghosting against his marbled skin.

“It’s me and you Star,” You whisper softly and he clutches you harder. He moves closer to your chest so that he can hear the sound of your heart beating rhythmically in your ribcage. Steady, you are here and so is he.

“I feel like I'm still shackled to the floor on a ratty mattress while he laughs over me. I never want to be weak like that again.” He wails out softly and you feel tears prickling your own eyes. But now isn't your time to cry

“You were never weak.” You murmur pressing your lips to his forehead and he closed his eyes at the warmth of your skin. You were here and so was he, alive, living. Cazador was lying dead, amongst strewn corpses in that awful crypt but he was here with you. Free.

#baldur's gate 3 x reader #astarion x female tav #baldur's gate 3 #astarion x reader #astarion x male tav #astarion x durge #astarion x gn!tav

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pandora-writes-one-piece · 4 months ago

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HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ONE OF THE BEST AUTHORS ON THIS PLATFORM.

I have a request is there any way you could do the “I’ve never met anyone as infuriating as you, and I can’t stop thinking about you" prompt but with Zoro. Having a female reader just recently joined the crew only for them to be enemies. Both of them have a history of being enemies and now the whole crew sees them fight so the other is 5ft feet under. Only for them to be confused as to why their heart beats like crazy around each other.

Would really appreciate it if you did my request! 🥰🙏

Thank you so much for your kind words @mars-mizuko and @beachaddict48 🥰🥰 I love reading your reactions to my little silly stories and I tried my hardest to make you happy with this request! It turned out a bit bigger than the others, but I don't want to limit myself with the story I want to tell and I've accepted that some requests will have bigger fics than others! I do sincerely hope you enjoy this! Thank you for participating in the event and for all of your support!

Source for Pic

Backstabber

Word Count: 3637

Tags: fem!reader; enemies to lovers; suggestive content; implied sex; cursing; sexual tension; idiots in love;

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: You never thought you'd meet the infamous bounty hunter Roronoa Zoro again after four years apart. Yet here you are, part of his crew, and all he wants is to get rid of you.

|Masterlist|

“No, Luffy.”

Two words. Just two words and I already want to rip his head off his shoulders. This is gonna be great!

“Why?” Luffy cocks his head to the side, his pinky reaching inside his nose in search of the annoyance there.

“Shut up, Mosshead!” Sanji growls, his face close to Zoro’s closed-off expression. “Luffy, yes. She would be the most wonderful addition to our crew.”

Aw, see, the cook’s nice!

“She’s not trustworthy.” The swordsman has both his eyes closed but you can see the way his jaw ticks as he tries to keep his emotions at bay.

“Ditto, Roronoa, yet I just helped save your ass.” You bite back. Two can play the accusation game. It’s actually been four years since the last time you saw Roronoa Zoro. He was skinnier then, less… bulk. Still the same asshole, though.

His eye snaps open and you notice yet another difference. He’s more dangerous, ruthless, and predatory. “Measure your words, Backstabber. I’m not the same man I was four years ago.”

You inch forward, squaring your shoulders and measuring up to his height, even if you can’t reach it. “It’s too bad I am not the same woman I was four years ago, either.”

Nami and Robin watch the interaction with veiled smirks. Sanji is seething and being restrained by Franky to prevent him from attacking Zoro for speaking rudely to a lady.

“Welcome her in, Luffy.” Robin says with a hint of amusement in her voice.

“I’d say she fits right in, Cap.” Nami says with a chuckle.

And just like that, you’re welcomed into the most dysfunctional pirate crew you’ve ever met.

-*-

You and Zoro don’t like each other. Period. There’s no truce, there isn’t even a semblance of a fake peace. It’s an all-out conflict between the two of you and the Sunny has become an active warzone.

“I don’t want you anywhere near my space, Backstabber!”

“You don’t own the ship, Roronoa!”

Nami accepts the refreshment Sanji brings her and sighs, tilting her head up to where the two of you are bickering. You just wanted to train and shake away inertia, and the crow’s nest is where the barbells are.

But nooo, Mr. Salty claims that this is his space! As if he fucking owns the ship.

“LUFFY!” You both yell out the window trying to get your captain to resolve your issue this time.

“It’s been a week.” Robin says weakly from her perch on the lawn chair.

“I don’t know how much more of this I can take.” Nami whispers back to her.

“Guys, make it stop, they’re so loud!” Chopper whines as he cuddles in Robin’s lap.

Luffy, bless him, doesn’t even move from his spot, so you sigh, pushing your index finger and thumb against the bridge of your nose trying to contain the massive migraine threatening to settle behind your eyes.

“Look here, Roronoa, we have to make this work. Whether we like it or not, we are now Nakama and-...”

“I could never be your Nakama!” He hisses, dropping the barbell near his feet with the loudest thud imaginable. Sweat drips from his hair and runs down his temples, making the vein there glisten as it throbs menacingly. His (big, muscular, defined) chest heaves from barely contained rage and you force your eyes to settle back on his face because, somehow, the sight of his sweaty, glistening pecs turns you hot and bothered for reasons that have nothing to do with anger.

“Well boo-freaking-hoo. Learn to deal with it, will you? You’re a big boy.” You say slowly, emphasising each word with a step in his direction. You’re taken aback by your closeness when his scent envelops you and dazes you in more ways than one.

It’s familiar and comforting: steel, salt, sweat…

But it’s also intoxicating and dangerous and new…

Fuck.

-*-

It’s only been one week and Zoro is ready to throw you overboard. Too bad you don’t have a devil fruit or he could watch you sink without a hint of remorse. That being the case, it would just be funny as hell to watch you get pissed off at him while soaking wet.

Wet like you are now.

He found you in the middle of your workout in his crow’s nest using his training equipment in his space. You’d been there long enough for sweat to make your hair cling to your forehead, for your top to turn a darker shade and cling sinfully to your curves, and for your sweet scent to mingle with his sanctuary, making his head spin.

Zoro feels like growling, though he’s not sure if he’s growling for the right reasons.

And now you’re approaching him with fearless steps, your finger pointing at him accusingly, while your lusciously plump lips form words: ‘boo-freaking-hoo’. And all he can think about is how your lips would feel wrapped around his cock.

“Get the fuck out.” He growls for real this time and you stop pacing. He knows he’s giving off a dangerous aura and he means it. Because his heart is doing some freaking weird shit he doesn’t want to dissect right now and he needs you out of his sight.

Immediately.

It’s a good thing you obey and scurry out - still pissed and calling him all sorts of names, though - because the strain in his pants was about to force him to bend you over the nearest surface and have his way with you.

And he definitely can’t do that.

-*-

Eventually, with mediation from Robin and Franky, you and Zoro settle on a schedule for using the crow’s nest to train. It’s not so hard, since Zoro spends half the morning and afternoon napping, leaving you plenty of time for your daily workout.

“Why do you and Zoro hate each other?” Chopper asks innocently during lunch, and the table falls into an awkward silence. No one tries to change the subject since everyone’s curious.

A heavy sigh escapes your lips as memories from the past come rushing back. You and Zoro used to bounty hunt together. You met randomly while tracking the same wanted pirate. After beating the pirate’s crew and helping each other out, you split the bounty and became friends.

From then on, the friendship blossomed. Zoro had an easier laugh before, he wasn’t so guarded, so closed off.

Did I cause him to be like that?

You bonded. Actually, so much more than that, you were head over heels for him. The whole works: stomach aflutter with butterflies, fireworks exploding behind closed eyelids, a drum instead of a heart.

And then there was a misunderstanding. You got a tip about a small-time fry, barely 6k berries, hardly worth your time. But the asshole was harassing a town and you knew you could take him alone. Zoro was collecting a previous bounty so you didn’t even tell him where you were going.

Turns out the fry wasn’t easy or small. It was huge. It was 16k, not 6k, and he was a tough nut to crack. You could’ve used Zoro’s strength, but you managed. Scraped, bruised but prideful. When you went to collect, intending to share the bounty with him, Zoro was beyond angry. He found out where you’d gone and assumed you’d gone behind his back to collect the bounty and the fame for yourself.

Things escalated. You fell out with each other.

Over a freaking misunderstanding.

You were stubborn as fuck. And you soon found out he was equally stubborn, if not more. So here you were. Still mad at each other over something that had happened more than four years ago.

“We just don’t get along, Chopper. We used to be friends, and then… we stopped.”

Zoro’s glass nearly shatters with the force he uses to set it down on the table. “Bullshit, Backstabber.”

“Stop calling me that, asshole.”

“Guys, guys, you’re at the table…” Franky starts.

“Backstabber? Why? You went behind my back and collected a huge bounty without telling me. That sounds like backstabbing to me!”

“You didn’t even let me explain!” You rise, palms slapping against the wood, causing your water glass to turn and spill.

“What was there to explain? How you got greedy? How you abandoned me without a word? Because that shit stung more than the fucking bounty!”

You gasp and take a step back, grasping the underlying hurt in his words. Abandoned him…? Is that what he thinks happened?

“I… I never meant to abandon you…” Lowering your eyes, you sense the crew shifting uncomfortably under your words.

Zoro is silent.

Just as you raise your head to meet his eyes, a cannon blast shakes the ship, forcing the crew outside to battle an oncoming enemy.

-*-

In the heat of the battle, all animosities are forgotten. You and Zoro move as one, even after four years apart, you can still fight back to back as you used to. It’s both exhilarating and overwhelming.

Zoro still hasn’t calmed the frenzied rhythm of his heart. You had claimed you never meant to abandon him. Were you speaking the truth? Because, as far as he knew, you had chosen to leave him behind, collect the big bounty and disappear from his life without ever looking back.

That had been the biggest disappointment he'd faced in a long while. After four years, he thought you were part of his past. No longer a constant presence in his mind, or worse, in his dreams.

You were gone, and good riddance.

What were the chances of him meeting you again in the Grand Line, anyway?

The Marines attacking the Straw Hats are predictably weak, but there are many of them and Zoro is distracted by the earlier conversation. Apparently, so are you, because there’s no way in hell four-years-ago-you would’ve let that attack slip through your defences, let alone now-you.

Zoro grunts and slices through the three Marines in front of him to reach the bastard pinning you against the Sunny’s wall. His sword blade pressed to your throat, your arm laying limp and bloodied, rendered useless for the rest of the fight.

“I’m gonna count to three and before I fucking reach two, you’d better have let go of her and be out of my fucking sight, or you’ll lose your limbs one by one to my blades. Starting with that hand.” He growls as he notices the Marine pressing his hand against your chest to keep you pinned to the wall.

-*-

Fuck, that was hot.

How can your heart be racing this fast when you’re facing possible death at the hands of a freaking weak Marine? You have no idea how you got into this position. You know how to fight better than any of these army fools!

You were distracted, dumbass.

Yeah, you were distracted. You were thinking about the possibilities and the what-ifs of four years ago, if only you had spoken to Zoro before he thought you abandoned him. And all that thinking got you pinned to the wall with an injured arm and a blade to your throat.

“One…” Zoro starts counting and you hold your breath. You’ve seen him fight, the Marine better run. “Two…”

His voice is eerily calm, but the intensity of his words leaves no room for argument. He’s dangerous, he’s lethal, and he’s not playing games.

Even though the Marine drops you unceremoniously and starts to run, you know he isn't getting far. The manic grin on Zoro’s face just before he slashes the Marine makes the critters in your belly flutter and dance all at once.

Fuck.

Zoro did start with his hand.

-*-

“She’s fine!” Chopper exclaims as he steps out of the infirmary with a wide smile, his hoof clasping your uninjured hand as you join your Nakama by the galley. The crew receives you with cheers and you feel a bit ashamed. You wanted to prove your worth but the battle didn’t go the way you meant it to. Still, none of them make you feel unworthy.

Robin fusses over you, Luffy tries to hug you before Nami stops him with a punch, Usopp is already retelling the tale of the thousand Marines who attacked you and Sanji glides to your side with a refreshment and amiable words, worried, anxious and happy you’re safe.

And that’s where Zoro draws the line. “Can we talk?” His gruff voice rolls over you like a caress, and you bite the inside of your cheek trying to snap out of it.

“Yeah.” You follow him to the crow’s nest unsure of what he wants to say. The entire walk is wrapped in piercing silence, tension hanging like a thick fog. Once you arrive, you’re too wound up to sit, so you start pacing.

“Explain.” He says, apparently too wound up to sit as well.

The fuck?

“Explain what?”

“What you meant at lunch.”

You try to cross your arms over your chest, but the injured limb is still out of action so, instead, you place your good hand on your hip and stamp your foot. “Listen, honey,” you mock, “you better start using your big boy words because I’m not going to play riddles with you and-...”

Your sentence is cut short when he takes two strides forward, forcing you to step back until you collide with the training bars. Zoro’s face is inches from yours and the ticking in his jaw is back.

His eye pins yours, and your legs wobble under the intensity of his stare. “I’ve never met anyone as infuriating as you,” he drawls, slamming his hand against the bars beside your face. “And I can’t stop thinking about you.”

The world spins as you suck in a breath, trying to understand his words. What does he mean?

“I can’t stop thinking about your lips…” His thumb presses against your lower lip, tracing it roughly. “I can’t stop thinking about kissing your neck.” His lips brush against the pulse on your neck, teeth nibbling and pinching. “I can’t stop thinking about you… squirming under me!”

Zoro’s hand gropes the flesh of your hip, his fingers sinking in, pulling a soft moan from your lips. “Tell me to stop.” He whispers, his tongue tracing your earlobe with sinful licks. “Fuck. Just say the words.”

Your head falls back against the bars in abandon as his hand drops from your hips, fingers inching under the waistband of your jeans.

“Don’t stop.” You sigh.

And he doesn’t.

-*-

“I didn’t abandon you.” You’re still in bliss after the moment you just shared. You had thought about this, fantasied, dreamed, imagined… every possible variation of what just happened. But it was still better. “I didn’t know the pirate had a 16k berries bounty. I thought it was 6k. I was going to take care of him, call it a day and meet you to collect the bounty.”

Zoro’s still, his chest still heaving slightly, sweat clinging sinfully to where your mouth had been moments ago.

“But then you left, thinking I betrayed you, without giving me a chance to explain before disappearing from my life.” Your legs are still shaking and aching. Zoro was brutal and intense. And you loved every second of it.

“Well that makes sense…” He says as his expression softens.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Your disbelief makes you face him with a scowl and bared teeth.

“Look at how much fun we could’ve been having for four years instead of hating each other. My bad, I guess!” His cheeky grin only makes you seethe more and you scramble to your feet to collect your clothes and leave him there.

“Unbelievable! You’re an ass, Zoro.” You state as you open the hatch to leave him and his smugness behind.

“Meet me later?”

The blush spreads from your cheeks to your nose and then to your ears as you face him. If looks could kill, he’d be a dead man. You show him the middle finger before closing the hatch. “After dinner in this spot. Be naked and don’t be late. Asshole.”

Roronoa Zoro used to be a friend, then an enemy, then a Nakama… now you can’t deny all the fluttering in your belly when he looks at you. But the fluttering’s fine. You can live with that, it’s actually exhilarating.

It’s the frenzied beating of your heart that you have a problem with. That, and the clenching in your chest when you and Zoro gaze at each other.

That’s what scares you.

-*-

Dinner that evening is the tensest meal you’ve had on the Sunny since joining the crew. On the outside everything looks normal. Luffy is eating from everybody’s plate, Sanji is fawning over Nami, Robin and you, and Usopp is entertaining the table with how he single-handedly defeated one hundred marines in the fight you had earlier.

But every time you glance at Zoro, he’s pinning you under his gaze, an infuriating smirk lifting the corner of his lips as he downs an entire bottle of sake. You try your damn hardest to focus on the food in front of you instead of letting your mind revisit the most mind-shattering and intense moment of your life.

Nami asks if you’re alright and you weakly respond with a yes, saying that you’re just tired from the fight, but you don’t miss her curious expression when she catches the way Zoro is staring at you. Fuck. If he doesn’t stop doing that, he might as well wear a sign on his forehead saying you just had sex.

Bastard.

Zoro leaves first and after helping Sanji clear the plates - even if he vehemently refuses your help - you make your way up to the crow’s nest. You told Zoro to be waiting naked, but you’re actually having second thoughts. Has he forgiven you for what happened four years ago? Have you forgiven him for not even wanting to hear your explanations?

You’re not even sure if you’re friends, acquaintances, enemies or something else entirely. And that needs to be settled.

Taking a deep steadying breath before opening the hatch, you brace yourself for whatever is coming, but you can’t help a small squeak from escaping your lips as you see Zoro waiting for you, bare-chested, cross-legged and leaning up against the bars.

“You’re late, Backstabber.”

“Your pants are still on, Mr. Salty.”

He chuckles and the sound makes your heart skip a beat weirdly. Should you talk to Chopper about this? It seems like something you should worry about.

Zoro moves away from the bars and takes a step your way, that smug grin tilting his lips in an endearing way. “You want them off that bad?”

You take another step back, though your legs feel like jelly. “Smug asshole.”

He doesn’t answer you with a cheeky reply and his lips turn into a thin line again. That same closed-off expression he had when you first joined and now it seems like the step back you took was a step back in… whatever this is.

“Look…” He says your name while scratching the back of his head. “I’m sorry. About the way things ended between us all that time ago. It seems silly to still be upset about it, especially now that you’ve explained yourself.”

You nod, agreeing and there’s a lightness to your chest that wasn’t there before. A sort of closure to that chapter of your lives, something you’ve carried with you even if you were unaware of it.

“Also,” he continues as he takes another step forward. This time you don’t back away. “About what I said the other day - about us not being Nakama - I didn’t mean it that way.” He sighs and reaches for your wrist, his touch surprisingly gentle. “I was just angry.”

“Are you still angry?” You ask, your breath catching slightly in your throat.

Zoro’s finger brushes the inside of your wrist, absentmindedly. “I don’t even know.” He lets out a sigh that resembles a grunt and tugs at your wrist, pulling you to him. “But I know I can’t go another day without you, let alone four years.”

Your heart skips another beat as his words sink in, and this time it continues to beat in this weird staccato rhythm. “Then don’t…” You finally murmur, pressing yourself against him, feeling the heat of his skin against your fingers.

He grins again, that shit-eating grin he used to give you back when things were still fine. “Good.” He drawls out as he pinches your chin and crashes his lips against yours in a desperate claim. His touch electrifies you and tingles in places it shouldn’t, lighting you up from within and making you feel more alive than ever.

-*-

Time passes and something shifts. The crew notices it since you bicker less. You’re pretty sure Nami and Robin know what is going on between the both of you, though they don’t say anything. But it should be a dead giveaway since you’re ‘training’ together now instead of sticking to your separate training schedule.

You still argue on a daily basis, though now there’s an underlying understanding that wasn’t there before. You’re not arguing out of past sorrows, hurt, or unresolved conflict. You’re arguing because it’s just your nature. And you notice that there’s something deeper in your connection. Those skipped beats of your heart, that fluttering in your belly… Those are all part of something far more intense that you don’t want to name yet. But you realise that there’s no rush in naming whatever you have. You have time.

Because Zoro might still call you ‘Backstabber’ with an annoyingly smug smirk, and you might call him ‘Mr. Salty’ with equal fervour now and again, but at the end of the day, you’re both exactly where you want to be: right beside each other.

Tag list: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid @ren-ni @jqperi

#one piece #one piece x reader #x reader #op #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro roronoa x reader #roronoa zoro #reader insert #reader x zoro #you x zoro #zoro x you #birthday event

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ralkana · 1 year ago

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Fluffbruary, Day 5

February 5: rescue | inertia | lullaby

Dream of the Endless / Hob Gadling

Rated M? Maybe T?

-----

Hob is desperate.

He is out of options. He is no longer a religious man, but he has prayed. His fate is inescapable.

Hob is trapped.

Dr. Atkins will not leave.

He's tried everything to get his new colleague out of his office. He's tried hints. He's tried exclaiming about how much work he has. He's tried ignoring the man and actually doing his work, but he could not focus, and his students deserve better than that. He's stood at the door expectantly, and Atkins stood just outside the door and kept talking. Hob has gone to the toilet, which was extremely awkward, as Atkins followed him in, kept talking, and then followed him back to his office.

Hob could simply leave, but it's his office! His lunch is here! He has 32 exams to mark and 3 lesson plans to finalize, and he is extremely thirsty but he does not want to make tea because he does not want Atkins to consider it an invitation to sit down again. Also, he's afraid that if he just leaves, Atkins will follow him out and all the way home, still talking.

Atkins is currently bemoaning his tragic love life and failed marriages, and Hob bites back a snarl as Atkins once again laments how all of his lovers have taken advantage of him because he is an empath. Clearly, the man is not, or he would already have been knocked flat by the hostility boiling under Hob's properly polite British demeanor. Get out get out GET OUT! he seethes.

Hob longs for assistance, longs for rescue, but the department is deserted, his colleagues' office doors closed, their window blinds down. He knows they're in there, the cowards, but it's obvious that all of them have already been exposed to their new resident bore, and no one warned Hob.

He yearns for a student to stop in, for a fire alarm, for a bloody earthquake, the building's boiler to explode. He glares at his phone, lying silent and dark on his desk. Why won't it ring?

"Music is my first love, though," Atkins says. For at least the fifth time. "And I want someone I can share that with. Concerts are not the same on one's own."

"Mm, yeah," Hob says listlessly.

There are footsteps in the hall. They stop before his door, and Hob's heart leaps like a startled hare.

"Hello, beloved, I am here for our lunch date. You were to call me after your class, were you not?"

God's wounds, thank you, love!

Hob lurches to pull open the half-open door, grabbing Dream's hand with both of his and clinging.

"Hello, darling, so sorry!" He presses a quick kiss to Dream's lips. "Time got away! Come in, come in!"

Pulling Dream into his office, he threads his arm in Dream's and keeps chattering at lightning speed. "Got so busy talking, you know how it is. Love, this is my new colleague, Dr. Atkins. Drew, this is my husband."

"Oh! Ah, pleasure to meet you," Atkins says, eyes wide as he stares at Dream. Every inch the dream king, Dream nods regally. Seeing Atkins take a breath to speak again, Hob jumps in once more.

"So sorry to rush you out, didn't realize what time it was, we've only got time for a short break, you understand. It was lovely chatting with you!"

If he lets Atkins get a word in, the man will never stop, and then Dream will say something unspeakably rude, and the only reason Hob hasn't already been unspeakably rude is that he still has to work with the man.

"Oh sure, no worries, " Atkins says as Hob herds him inelegantly out the door. "Chat later?" he asks over his shoulder.

"Absolutely," Hob says with a cheery grin as he shuts the door in Atkins' face and then locks it.

He slumps against it momentarily and then springs up to tug Dream into a searing kiss.

Dream rumbles in pleasure like a big cat, hands curving around Hob's waist to pull him close.

They only break apart when Hob gasps for breath. "Hello, love," he pants, tucking his face into Dream's neck. "You're my hero, did you know that?"

"Your daydreams of rescue were very loud, but they did not seem to call for a combative response. Is all well, beloved?" He glares at the closed door. "Is Andrew Atkins a threat?"

Hob snorts and reluctantly steps away to walk toward his desk. He has so much to do. "God, no. Only to my peace of mind and my schedule for the day, duck. New colleague, frightful bore, couldn't get rid of him. I tried everything. Nice bloke, but he would not stop talking. If I had to hear one more time about how he saw Queen at Wembley in '85, I would not have been responsible for my actions."

He daydreams a little vignette of sliding his sword out of a desk drawer far too small for it, grinning at Dream's small huff of laughter.

"I am glad to have come, if it averted unnecessary bloodshed," Dream says as he crosses the office. He leans against the corner of Hob's desk, ankles crossed, and smiles down at him. Hob swivels so that his knee knocks Dream's, and smiles back.

There is a brief moment of blessed silence, and Hob savors it.

"As your rescuer, I believe I deserve a reward, do I not?" Dream's voice is a purr, low and sultry, and it sends a shiver down Hob's spine.

"Oh, I will happily reward you tonight, love. Repeatedly, if you like."

"I am here now. For our lunch date. And I find myself ravenous."

"Dream, we're in my office!"

Dream says nothing, simply staring down at him hungrily, and Hob swallows.

"I am so behind, dove. Atkins was here forever, and I have - " It ends on a gasp as Dream straddles him. Hob's desk chair creaks alarmingly.

"So fickle in your gratitude, beloved," Dream murmurs in his ear, his hands in Hob's hair.

Hob glances at his pile of marking. He glances at the blinds, closed, and the door, locked. Ten minutes. He can take ten minutes. Maybe fifteen.

END

-----

Thanks to @fluffbruary for the prompt and @ladytian for the cheerleading!

#dreamling #centennial husbands #dream of the endless #hob gadling #the sandman #fluffbruary #fluffbruary 2024 #my fic #tumblr fic #fic challenges #my immortal sunshine boy #my sad wet king of cats

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put-them-thangs-away · 3 months ago

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while i figure that out, not sure if anyone has done it yet, but i want to do a little dive into the basics of the tarot cards used in this jack & joker episode, now that i actually have a moment and can do more than just the basic off the top of my head readings. i’ll be using the golden thread tarot deck mostly because i like how concise it is and also its more accessible to me right now underneath my sleeping dog than my shelf of decks in my room lmao. this is gonna be,,,, real long probably so all the details will be under the cut, if you wanna join me for my rambling:

fun little sidenote before i get started: when i went to begin discussing why i love the use of tarot and nang’s characterization specifically, my card of the day that i drew was the Queen of Swords which is like 100000% The Nang Card™️ lol [complexity, perceptive, clear mindedness etc.]

“a woman of immense complexity, sometimes considered cold-hearted, but also sharp of mind and wit, independent and possessing great powers of organization and analysis.” i won’t go down the rabbit hole of sword suits as a whole bc that’s not the point of this post and so far the show hasn’t gone into minor arcana, so i’m just gonna say HMMMMM very inch resting timing,,,,, anyways,,,

now, of course i have to start with joke’s card and its myriad of double meanings. in just about any piece of media, if you see The Fool card it should automatically be flagged as a red herring. it’s meant for you to look at it and take it at face value based on the words and image…. much like our four little idiots did when first shown their cards. like JOKE YOU GOT THE FOOL BECAUSE YOU’RE A DUMBASS LOL! and he’s the joker so of course he would also be the fool, yes? unfortunately for our little baby clown, the actual symbolism of the card is childlike innocence and naivety, often to their own detriment. it speaks of blank slates, new beginnings, and the start of a journey. “he does not know the dangers that can beset him during his travels, and thus he stumbles forward with complete optimism, never suspecting that he may be walking in a thin tight rope.” oof yikes. sound familiar? nang rly read that boy for filth huh,,,, aside from the obvious heavy handed post-prison clean slate, we’ve also got the metaphor connected to jack’s forgiveness and starting their relationship over. there’s a lot more to be said here as well about how naive joke can be when thinking he’s doing the right thing and that his choices are for the sake of someone else, without clearly seeing the consequences their may be for that person as a result of his actions. at the risk of Never Shutting Up About It, i will have to make myself move on.

i’ll get into tattoo’s card next because it’s really interesting to me that he was assigned The World, which I kind of would have thought would be a card assigned to jack instead. i see what they were going for in this episode with it, i think, but it felt a bit shallow in comparison, so there may be more in relation to this that we have yet to see. as The Fool is the first card (0) in the major arcana, The World is the final card (21). this card symbolizes an ending of a cycle of life, specifically before the beginning of a new cycle of life. it’s an indicator of major and inescapable change. throughout this episode, we see the shift in tattoo’s heart and priorities being held up in comparison to their past heist through some pretty straightforward parallels, so from that angle, The World makes perfect sense. (especially since one reading of The World when in reverse is inertia & stagnation) tattoo wanting to run in and save joke when he thinks he’ll be caught in the heist is our window in to see The World changing. that being said i find it interesting that this card would be chosen for him since it sort of,,,, kickstarts the journey for The Fool and is generally somewhat,,,, final. so i’m just reeeaaaalllllyyyy hoping that this does not mean tattoo has to actually end his cycle in any way other than metaphorical for the other to continue. the man has grown on me, what can i say? 😭 we’re just gonna ignore all those warning bells in my head and choose to go with the “accomplishment and fulfillment from both inner and outer sources” reading. yup.

then we’ve got arun, whose card is The Moon, which is double fun because arun’s name means dawn/sunrise. there’s a lot of meaning that could be extrapolated here, but based on tattoo’s card seeming on surface level to be about the state of his heart and his involvement in this little found family, i’m going to guess that arun’s is the same. The Moon card symbolizes intuition, the unconscious, illusion, and deception. it can be read as a signal of something being not as it appears, a truth you cannot admit to yourself, instincts that we have buried in our unconscious, among other things. this card being chosen for arun actually actively makes me more nervous than tattoo getting The World lol. if we choose to read it at surface value, could just be that in this heist he had to follow intuition, and got himself turned around in the process (eagle statue etc), or just generally that he did not previously appear capable, but here he is helping this mission be pulled off. with the opening scene of arun crying about missing his dad and that,,,, not really getting resolved actually,,,,,, that makes me wonder about some alternate reading options, but like,,,,,, i don’t want to. so. Simply going to close my eyes on that one! no thanks!

then of course there’s everyone favourite head empty good boy, hoy, who was assigned The Star card. out of all the card readings, this boy got the most straightforward one and i’m trying not to read too much into that since they were all assigned by nang and my brain hasn’t quite caught up to [handwaves] whatever she and hoy have got going on over there. this card is symbolic of faith, optimism, and hope. so….. yeah hoy in a nutshell. not a whole lot more to add in there.

skipping The Heirophant card and The Tower card to come back to later because i have Some Theories there and they may make more sense after i go back and rewatch a few things

ANYWAYS if you read to the end of this thank you and i’m sorry please feel free to yell at me about it

#jack & joker #jack and joker #jack & joker the series #jack and joker the series #episode analysis #jack & joker ep 9 #screaming edens #this is so long i’m so sorry

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