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savingcrxws · 1 year

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EYES ON FIRE | maybe someday

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synopsis. you and carmen just keep bumping into each other.

word count. 4.3k (gah damn)

warnings. language, hardly proofread again i'm sorry its an addiction

authors note. thank u guys so much for the support in these previous chapters! it’s really amazing to me that u guys enjoyed it so much! i would recommend listening to maybe someday by the cure for this chapter!

“Yeah, Sugar. The appointment is booked for Thursday, the reps will probably be coming in at like…three o’clock,” you mutter, flipping through the manila folder absolutely stuffed with documents and sticky notes.

You pursue your lips at all you had to get done within this week alone–sign installation permit, permit to replace the hot water heater, permit to fix the ventilation systems, reapply for occupancy capacity signs because of the restaurants lack of other permits, and holy shit…

You completely forgot to schedule the follow-up appointment with the BACP consultant.

You groan, slamming the thick folder into your forehead, the papers thwacking against your skull. Natalie sounds startled on the other end of the phone, no doubt hearing the sound on her end of the call. She questions if you’re okay, and you only respond with a gentle hum before tossing the folder back down on the office table.

“Hey, Suge, do you think I can call you back later? I need to schedule a follow-up consultation with Raquel before another rep hops on my ass about the boiler replacement.”

“Of course, hun, call me back whenever you can,” Sugar starts and you can hear some papers flicking in her side of the call as well.

You had managed to convince her to work from home more often, worried that all the stress from the demolition inside would affect her pregnancy and her overall wellbeing. After some back and forth, she had begrudgingly agreed to spend two days working on the project from the comfort of her own couch.

And even though she complains still, you know she appreciates she has a little bit more time off of her feet.

“Don’t work yourself too hard, okay, Bug?”

You nod, even though you know she can’t see you. “Same for you, Bear.” Sugar hums once again before you both give your goodbyes and end the call.

You expel all of the air out of your chest in a large puff as you slide down the office chair.

After signing onto Team Bear, your new home-away-from-home had been this tiny office in the back of the restaurant. For the most part, no one came in and disrupted your work, which allowed you to have your head shoved into piles of paperwork, be stuck on phone calls, and be forced to reread legal jargon for hours on end with little interruption.

Well, as little interruption as there could be with the restaurant quite literally falling apart around you.

Thankfully, everyone was very respectful of your work in helping the developing business. You were practically putting every ounce of knowledge that you learned from both college and the real-world experience (including connections within the industry) to help push the restaurant closer to the deadline. All the while still dealing with your other commitments to other businesses that you had prior to signing on to this project.

Staying at The Bear for eight hours a day had its benefits, though.

For example, there was always something entertaining going on in the background. Like last Tuesday, when Fak had decided to send a sledgehammer directly into the only remaining wall of the office–sending bits and pieces of drywall onto your clothes.

Another benefit of being stuck in that office chair is that you had an excuse to ignore everyone around you. And by everyone, you really mean Carmen.

After the awkward office run-in last week, the two of you hardly spoke to each other. Sure, there was the ‘hellos’ and ‘goodbyes’ that you threw to each other and the words you exchanged when you caught him up on the status of licensing, but you two had yet to have an actual conversation.

It was clear that the both of you were still walking on eggshells around each other—and everyone could see it. But you had an inkling feeling that Carmen had been wanting to say something, judging by the short glances you sometimes catch him throwing in your direction.

Kinda similar to the one that he’s giving you right now.

You feel the heat of his stare on your face before you see it. He’d been staring at you for a couple moments now, long enough for you to no longer consider it an inquisitive glance.

You peek up from the folder and make solid eye contact with Carmen through the hole in the wall. The man flushes almost immediately, the red color sinking past his collar. You purse your lips and give a small nod of acknowledgment and he stutters in his spot.

And then he’s turning away.

Like he wasn’t the one just staring at you a moment ago.

You roll your eyes and turn back to your original position in the seat. Picking the folder up again, you flick to the papers listing the requirements for the next fire suppression test.

“Men,” you mutter, before picking up your phone and making a phone call.

Three days later, the office is completely demolished and your work revolving around The Bear has been moved to a family-owned coffee shop two blocks over.

In the short span of time, all of the walls in the store had been busted down and the restaurant had practically turned into a hazardous wasteland. And since construction was too far out of your pay grade, you decided to leave the heavy lifting up to everyone else.

“Alright, permit done!” You throw your hands up in the air, your theatrics catching the attention of a couple next to you. You could hardly care for the stares, though, you had been working on getting that permit for the past four days straight. Slamming your laptop shut, you pack up your bags and head off to the cash register to buy another coffee before you go.

While you wait for your drink, you decide to scroll aimlessly through your phone to kill some time.

“Oh shit,” you hear a voice utter behind you, and you barely have time to process the word before something ice cold is running down your back. “Fuck, I’m fucking sorry, I didn’t even see you—“

You gasp on reflex, taking a step forward and shivering. The person who spilled their drink on you is stuttering out apologies. The liquid seeps into the jacket you were wearing and you pull it off immediately.

“Yo, what the fuck, dude,” you curse, watching the large stain of coffee spread even farther across your jacket. “Watch where the hell you’re walking—”

In the middle of trying to give the perpetrator a piece of your mind, you failed to recognize the familiar sound of the voice that was spewing apology out of apology. But in a second, your eyes met a recognizable set of blue and you halted your words.

In front of you stands Carmen Berzatto. In his signature colored sweater and a half-spilled cup of coffee in his hand.

And he looks petrified.

It seems he didn’t realize just who was the unlucky victim to his americano attack either until you turned around. His mouth agape, he utters out a jumbled apology, glancing back at you, your stained jacket, and the cup in his hand like his brain was still trying to understand what just happened.

“Uh-uh, fuck, sorry, I swear this wasn’t on purpose,” he rambles, placing his cup on the counter behind you and grabbing some napkins right after. He steps back towards you and shoves his hand of napkins to you. “Here, shit, I’m so sorry.”

You sigh, taking the napkins from him, noting the slight tremor that persisted in his hands as you did so. Taking in a slow breath, you close your eyes and count to ten before responding. “It’s okay, Carmen. Don’t worry about it.”

And even though you tried to maintain your peace, you can hear the annoyance seeping out of your words. Carmen glances around the counter before looking back at you and your soaked jacket. You know he probably wants to apologize some more, but honestly, one more apology might land him with a punch to the gut.

Just as he opens his mouth, you raise your free hand, silencing him immediately. You shake your head in dismissal before taking the napkins offered to you and blotting the coffee out of the fabric of your jacket. Carmen simply stood in his place, watching you, seeing if he could do anything to redeem himself in this situation.

However, after they called your name for your drink order, you dumped the used napkins in the trash, took your drink and hightailed it out of the café without one more word to the man.

After the coffee shop incident, you swear that you started to see Carmen everywhere.

You needed a quiet place to plan outside of your house so you went to one of the local libraries. Guess who’s walking outside the building?

You need a late night snack and decide to hit up the corner store. Guess who’s in the refrigerated section?

Hell, you decide to stay late at The Bear for some last minute checkups? Guess who forgot to grab a few things before leaving that night?

You swear that before you hopped on The Bear train, you never even saw a glimpse of the man. Sure, you lived relatively near the restaurant, but Chicago is fucking huge, there’s no way you would run into one of the few people that you’re trying to avoid.

Absolutely not, apparently.

Finally finishing up the weekly budget report and estimate for the following weeks till open, you decide to take a step away from work for a second and give your brain some time to breath.

“Hey, Syd, if anyone needs me, I’m outside taking a smoke break, ‘kay,” you yell across the restaurant, receiving a thumbs up from her from the other side of the room. “Be back in 15!”

Reaching into your bag, you pull out a pack of cigs and a lighter before heading to the back entrance of the restaurant. You place the cigarette between your lips and head to the backdoor. Stepping out and around the alley to the designated smoke corner, you fiddle with the lighter switch, hearing the light sizzle but seeing no flames emerge.

You groan, flicking the lighter again and again and still no lig–

“Umm, uh, you need a light?”

You scream, your heart almost skipping a beat and falling out on the concrete below you. In your alarm, both your cigarette and the lighter drop on to the ground. "Shit," you mutter and throw a glance over at whoever had scared the living shit out of you and, surprise suprise . . .

There was Carmen, standing in the alley a few feet away from the door. One leg was kicked up to rest his foot against the wall behind him and a cigarette hung loosely between his fingers. His eyes trailed across you for a second, then he glanced at the cigarette on the ground before taking another draw from his own and staring out the wall in front of him.

If you had half of the energy, you would tell him off for scaring the shit out of you and book it out of the enclosed space.

Lucky for Carmen, however, you really needed that cigarette.

Reaching back into your bag once more, you pull out another cig and walk slowly over to the man. Your steps gain his attention once again and when your eyes met you gestured to the lighter hanging out of his cooking apron.

He grabs the lighter and hands it to you. As you reach out to grab it, your fingers brush against his knuckles. Some quick thought in the back of your head wishes that that physical interaction lasted a little longer, but you're quick to shoo that away into the deep recesses of your mind.

Lighting your cigarette, you hand the lighter back to him before taking a drag. Blowing the smoke out, you slid down the wall until you could lean back into a squat against it.

The two of you just stand there, in complete silence aside from the occasional cough from an improper pull. This quiet isn't nearly as awkward as the first run-in the two of you had. Maybe it's because of the nicotine or maybe it's because continuously running into Carmen over these past days had subconsciously made you a little more comfortable with his presence.

. . .

Nah, it definitely had to be the nicotine.

You glance up at Carmen, who continues to smoke even though his stick had turned into a bud a while ago. You make note of the new tattoos that run down his arms and hands, eyes stopping at the rose flower tattoo on his left hand.

You remember when he got that one done with you at the parlor for his eighteenth birthday.

Subconsciously, you rub at the matching rose on your thigh before sighing and focusing back on your cigarette. Young, dumb decisions, you think.

Above you, Carmen watches your focus retreat back and purses his lips. In all honesty, Carmen usually never finishes a whole cigarette, but he really needed an excuse to stay out here longer with you.

These past couple of days had been tormenting him just as much as it had been you, albeit for different reasons. Everytime Carmen ran into you, whether it be in that cafe or that random grocery store that one early morning, he was plagued with memories of everything that he had fucked up.

Not just the relationship that he had fucked, but the happiness that he had stolen from the both of you.

And he had so desperately been trying to apologize, but every time you saw his face, you would get that look on your own. That dread, the anxiousness, that annoyance. That anger.

Whenever he saw that expression on your face, he would get too choked up to say anything of significance. A simple 'hey" would be all that would leave his mouth. Either that or he would stutter like he was a fucking kid again and embarrass himself in front of you like he seems to be doing constantly lately.

Carmen sighs, taking a final hit from his cigarette before stomping it out on the ground. By all previous experience, Carmen would book it out of the area by now, but something in his gut was telling him to stay this time.

Glancing down at you once more, he sees that you have taken to scrolling through your phone to kill the time. He bites the corner of his lip and decides to sit against the wall like you.

Instinctively, you toss him a questioning glance but when he didn't make any move to speak or gesture towards you, you shook your head and went back to whatever video had popped up on your feed.

Fuck it, he thought.

"I'm sorry."

You halt in the middle of your smoke, nearly coughing on the fumes but managing to swallow it. You look over at Carmen inquisitively, wondering where the hell that apology came from. The dirty blonde was wringing his hands, mouth opening and shutting as if he was trying to get the words out.

"Sorry for the, uh," he mutters, casting a quick glance in your direction to assure himself that you were listening. "Sorry for the, for uh-You know I didn't-I don't know how-"

"Yo, Carmen," you interrupt the world vomit that he was spewing, tossing your cigarette down before snuffing out the light with your shoe. You center your focus back on the man next to you, who seemed to only have you in his attention. "Just say what you want to say. No bullshit."

Your blunt words seem to ground Carmen long enough for him to gather his thoughts. He nods his head rapidly in that way he does when he's clearly overwhelmed before he clears his throat. He takes in a large inhale and clears his throat, ready to speak again.

"I want to apologize. For everything. For how much of an jackoff I was back then, and for how much I am right now," Carmen stars, eyes staring solidly into yours to show just how serious he is. "I didn't deserve you, and you did nothing to deserve the way that we ended."

You feel something burn the back of your throat at the mention of the end of your relationship. The total radio silence from him for the days prior, and just when you had managed to gather the courage to ask the question of just what the hell are we doing, Carmy, you were cast aside like nothing.

He was right, you didn’t deserve that.

Pushing back the feelings bubbling up in your chest, you nod your head to signal that you were listening.

"I-I, it's no excuse, but I was really going through some serious shit. And I really felt that if I cut everyone out of my life, I could actually get a second to breathe you know," Carmen pauses and you open your mouth to speak, but he continues. "I-I just know you deserved-you deserve better. But seeing you in this restaurant day-in and day-out, working away to help my sister, my crew--help me? I just felt even more like a piece of shit."

He turns fully towards you now and you can see his eyes turning red from the emotion he was clearly holding behind his words. "You didn't deserve what I did, and you definitely don't deserve to be cleaning up my messes now."

"You deserved the world, and I'm sorry I couldn't give it to you."

His last words send a sharp pang into your chest. Here you two sat, sitting next to each other, the distance between you two seemed to be filled with words unsaid. You stare into his eyes a little longer, at a loss for what to say completely.

On one hand, you wanted to reject his apology, tell him to fuck off and leave him alone in this alleyway. He would deserve it after everything.

But he has that familiar kicked puppy-dog look in his eyes and he's chewed his lip red, and he's actually sorry.

You sigh, leaning your head back to rest against the wall behind you. Staring up at the sky, you trace the shapes of the clouds above as you collect your thoughts.

"Yeah," you start, nodding your head to yourself. Carmen tenses up at the ambiguity behind both your words and your tone. He would have to have his own head shoved up his ass if he didn't realize that you had every right to refuse his plea for forgiveness. Frankly, that's exactly what he was expecting you to do.

"Yeah, okay. I can forgive you, Berzatto."

Carmen's heart sinks into his guts, mouth slightly agape in pure shock. "You-you can?"

You give a small smile, turning your head to face the man. "Yeah, Carmen, I accept your apology."

The dirty blonde opens his mouth again but you put a hand up in the space between you, effectively shutting him up for a second.

"But," you trail, "I'm gonna forward you that dry cleaning bill from that cafe, asshat. I've been trying to get that shit out for days now."

Carmen flushes a bright red at the mention of the coffee shop run-in you two had, a broken chuckle leaving his mouth at the obvious teasing tone in your voice. You were joking with him, for the first time in years, you two had managed to glimpse at the level of comfortability that you once shared.

Carmen chuckles again, running a hand through his curls. "Yeah, well, can I raincheck that until after the restaurant starts making money? I'm kinda flat fucking broke right now."

You giggle at the honesty behind his words. "Yeah, I ran those calculations by the way. Have fun being flat broke for at least three months after The Bear opens."

"Shit," Carmen mutters, a grin still on his face.

"Yeah, shit." You nod in his direction before pushing yourself off your crouched position on the ground. "Anyway, I'm gonna head inside to get back on that shit. Fak's fucking electric guy keeps flaking on us."

Carmen's eyes follow your form as you stand, holding eye contact with you when you glance back down at him. "Yeah, yeah, I should probably meet up with Syd for the chaos menu anyway."

He hurriedly stands up, wiping his hands on his work pants. After he finishes, he looks at you once again, noting the small smile on your face. For a second, he swears his heart skips a beat.

"For the record, Carmy," you play with the nickname on your tongue, having not said it in quite some time. Carmen flushes before nodding for you to continue. The small on your face falls for a second as you look at him. "You pull that shit with me again, I'm sicking the dogs on your ass. Seriously."

Carmen clears his throat, straightening up at the more serious tone of your voice. Although you were not nearly as angry looking at him as before, he knew that you were serious. There were no more apologies after this, no more fuckups.

You look at him expectantly, waiting for some form of acknowledgment.

He nods. "Yes, chef."

After the conversation outside The Bear, you and Carmen seemed to flow together much easier than before. Granted there was the occasional stray glance casted in your direction from the man, but overall, the two of you were on much more agreeable terms.

The rest of the crew seemed to notice the absence of uncertain tension between the two of you. You explained to Tina, Richie, and Sugar that you two had simply talked it out and were no longer on "spiteful ex" terms.

Richie, being the annoying man that he is, insisted that something else must've happened--to which you responded with a firm shoulder check and yet another middle finger.

Overall, the two of you seemed to only talk about business stuff, which made it easier for conversations to flow. Less personal, more concrete talks.

"Alright, Carmy, we got that certificate of occupancy, right?" You question, running down the legal checklist once again. When you heard no response, you asked again, only to be ignored again. Finally looking up from your screen, you glance up at the man, trying to figure out what could have possibly distracted him this time.

He's glancing, moreso glaring, down at his phone, watching it ring but making no moves to pick it up. He's spaced out almost, like he's lost in his thoughts.

You clear your throat and decide to try his name again. "Carmen!"

He shoots up a little and looks at you, muttering an apology out as he clicks his phone off and slides it into his back pocket. "What were you asking?"

"Umm, I was trying to see if you got that certificate of occupancy from Cicero mailed in," you raise an eyebrow at him. "You know, the one we need to get that other big, shiny certificate that shows that we can legal conduct business in the state of Illinois? That certificate?"

"Uhh, yeah, yeah. Mailed it in the other day, yeah."

You squint at his weird responses before shaking your head and diving back into your work. "Well, on another note, I've been speaking with a liason down at the office and he said we can have our second fire suppression test in two weeks instead of the project four."

Carmen walks up to the foldable chair you were sitting in, peering over your shoulder to look at your screen. He rests his hand against the back of your chair unconsciously and you can feel the heat of his body radiating off of him. You clear your throat and lean forward a little to get some distance between the two of you.

"Who's that going to?" The man points to an email that you are in the middle of drafting. Your eyes follow and land on the email you were writing to one of your school buddies. "Oh that? I'm just messaging one of my old classmates from college about an idea I had about our issues with that retail food license thing."

Carmen humms, peeking down at you as you explained the process you were thinking of going through. Though your eyes were stuck on the screen, clicking through different documents as you continued your explanation, Carmen's eyes were glued to your face.

To him, this all felt like some weird dream that he was having. His former high school sweetheart, sitting in his restaurant, talking all kinds of smart talk that he could barely understand, practically pressed against him. Although he didn't move over to your chair with the intent to press against you, he definitely noticed the proximity that you two shared.

Life had been a whirlwind these past weeks, but he felt that when he was near you that a lot of those anxieties he often has screaming in his head quieted down a little. He tried to chalk it up to the confidence that he had in your skills, but even though you are incredibly talented in your work, he knew that it was something more than that.

Something that he had to swallow down.

"Carmy, you motherfucker, are you even listening to me?" You call out, turning more in your chair and fixing him with an annoyed glare. Carmen swallows before nodding his head. "Ye-yeah, you have a plan to get that retail food license and alcohol seller's license at once right?"

You hum, giving him a once over again before turning in your seat. "Exactly. I think that my buddy Stephen can help us with that fire suppression test, he knows a thing or two--"

Carmen's eyes trace down your eyes, nose, and lips, noting the signature bite marks you left on your bottom one. He runs a tongue across his own before carding a hand through his hair to collect himself.

He was so fucked.

taglist: @grippleback-galaxy @chatitajens @rooster-bradshaws @hrrysweetcherry @whoreforbucky @notsochillnerd @jackierose902109 @how2besalty @rosewine-5 @honeybug-victoria @beansap @sincerelyrab @xxconfettiitsaparade @softsy @imafatassmess @bibliophilewednesday @chanluuvr

if you would like to be added to/removed from the taglist, just tell me below! thank you so much for reading!

*if ur @ is striked thru, tumblrs being a pain and not letting tag, imma keep trying tho!!

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto fanfic #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x reader #the bear x reader #the bear season 2 #jeremy allen white x reader #jeremy allen white #carmen berzatto x you #the bear fanfic

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pr0cyon-lotor · 6 days

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Au where it was all a ✨dream✨

A collective dream specifically, sorta....

Okay, we're dropped in a scene Shen Yuan is dying. He sacrificed himself to save Binghe from idk a demon attack or something. But he's Shen Qingqiu's husband because there was a previous courtship full of drama, misunderstandings, and eventually love.

So he's being held by Shen Jiu, and as Shen Yuan finally drops. The system pulls up for everyone saying something about how they had completed an exercise, before anyone can even blink all plot relevant characters just drop to the floor.

Anyway PIDW isn't important anymore, let's go to the modern world.

Shen Jiu wakes up in a hospital bed, his memories rushing back. He's... A historian— no, a modern day scholar?... he's renowned for his research papers... Ugh, the voices.

Shen Jiu is told he was in a plane crash that had hospitalized most of its passengers, which is better than the alternative. He asks if there's a Shen Yuan in the hospital, the nurse hesitates and asks why. Shen Jiu got that Shen Yuan is in the hospital but is probably either in bad condition or his family isn't allowed the staff to talk about him.

Shen Jiu says that they're married. The nurse hesitates and then says he is and he's doing worse than before and is in critical condition. Shen Jiu is left to stew over the information.

He is forced to go into physical therapy and all that stuff. He meets the other passengers and can clock each of them. From his Qi-ge to Mobei Jun. It was strange, to see them like normal people when he has a memory of them being greater than that.

They all talk and Shen Jiu takes note of their professions and connections. Once he recovers, he tries to visit Shen Yuan and is told he needs a proof of marriage.

And Shen Jiu being the spiteful and conniving motherfucker he is uses his recently made connections to gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss some legalized falsified documents of his and Shen Yuan's marriage, which was a year before the plane crash and their anniversary landed on the day of the crash. How unfortunate truly :,( (he totally didn't pick that day because that was the day they met so in his brain that was they day that led them to be together or anything)

So he shows the documents and then visits Shen Yuan each time he can. He does try to avoid his family and got good at remembering their schedules of visits. He always keeps his hand over Shen Yuan's chest, just so he can feel his heart beat so he knows he's still alive aside from the mechanical beep of the heart monitor.

The day Shen Yuan wakes up, it was during one of Shen Jiu's visits. He wakes up with Shen Jiu . He's still half delirious and still mixing things from his coma "dream" and real life. So he says:

"My husband will get upset if he sees you touching me like that on my chest."

Shen Jiu is amused and puts Shen Yuan's glasses on his face softly and says that he is his husband. Shen Yuan stares at his demure beauty of a husband, mouth agape. The heart monitor picks up and he just says "sup" which confirms to Shen Jiu that he is still the nerdy man he fell in love with.

Shen Jiu tells him they've been married two year by now and kisses his forehead. A nurse bursts in to make sure no one is like y'know dying and sees that Shen Yuan is up. She is shocked because for all intents and purposes he shouldn't have woken up yet. She shoos Shen Jiu away and tells him to wait outside.

The Shens are notified and they finally meet Shen Jiu. He manages to gaslight and charm his parents and siblings. He convinces them that Shen Yuan totally mentioned him and they were totally going to meet if not for the plane crashing. (Shen Jiu remembered when Shen Yuan and him were talking in the plane that he mentioned that he was visiting family. Shen Jiu was flying to speak in a convention or something but they don't need to know that.)

Once Shen Yuan fully awake, his family start worrying over him and then ask why he didn't tell them he was married. Shen Yuan, who did realize his husband was lying is going along with it, said he was going to but things (the plane crash) got in the way.

Anyway new Shen in the family. He probably likes Shen Yuan's little sister and mom.

#did I make this entire au for that one joke? yeaaahhhhh #svsss #jiuyuan #scumcum #shen qingqiu #shen yuan #shen jiu #ignore me im insane

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applesauce42069 · 2 days

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I want to talk about Jewish indigeneity using this document from the UN, entitled "Who are indigenous peoples."

I'm not saying that all Jews necessarily fit every single thing that is on this document in all cases and times. I believe this document from the UN, which is clearly intended to be used for legal and political purposes, to identify vulnerable groups who need assistance. But even if we don't - we don't have to.

The document itself says:

According to the UN the most fruitful approach is to identify, rather than define indigenous peoples. This is based on the fundamental criterion of self-identification as underlined in a number of human rights documents

Jews have understood that our ancestors came from and originated in the Southern Levant since before the word "indigenous" existed. Our ancestors cared about their homeland so much that they wrote a story that said that our god gave it to them to describe how special our land was to them.

There are many ancient documents that describe how strongly Jews feel about the land that shares a name with us, the land that we call Israel. The earliest example I know of a Jew calling themselves indigenous to Israel is from 1947 at the UN, when Eliyahu Eliachar said:

As the indigenous population of Palestine, we demand the restitution of our rights, the abolition of the White Paper of 1939 and all it stands for and the opening of the gates to all Jews in need of a home, whether from East or West. Not wanted anywhere — undesirables everywhere — this germ of restlessness and despair is eating us up root and branch.

I'm going to share a graphic from the pew research centre:

why do you think this is the case? it is because most jews understand themselves as connected to israel by nature of being jewish because we are indigenous to there.

So, details from the UN document that I feel resonates with Jews, Jewish identity, and Jewish history:

Self- identification as indigenous peoples at the individual level and accepted by the community as their member. Historical continuity with pre-colonial and/or pre-settler societies. Strong link to territories and surrounding natural resources. Distinct social, economic or political systems Resolve to maintain and reproduce their ancestral environments and systems as distinctive peoples and communities. Indigenous peoples are the holders of unique languages, knowledge systems and beliefs and possess invaluable knowledge of practices for the sustainable management of natural resources. They have a special relation to and use of their traditional land. Their ancestral land has a fundamental importance for their collective physical and cultural survival as peoples. Indigenous peoples hold their own diverse concepts of development, based on their traditional values, visions, needs and priorities.

...they are the descendants - according to a common definition - of those who inhabited a country or a geographical region at the time when people of different cultures or ethnic origins arrived. The new arrivals later became dominant through conquest, occupation, settlement or other means.

#jumblr #judaism #jewish and proud #jews are indigenous to israel

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cheriladycl01 · 6 months

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Switching up on me - Esteban Ocon x Lawyer! Reader

Plot: Busy days using an underground train system you aren't familiar too is stressful enough with all the people and noises, but your day couldn't get any worse when you switch bags with the person you bumped into on the platform.

You were currently running around central Milan in a tizz, you were trying to find the underground station so you could make your way over to the building your client had sent through.

Usually your legal firm dealt with everything strictly in the UK, but this high profile client of yours was unable to make the travel from Italy to England. Your boss sent you off saying you'd have to meet him there to run through final things before you went to court. Everything was in a large duffle bag, all the private documents and confidential agreements and you were struggling holding it next to you.

Once you got into the subway system you placed the bag down next to you but close enough no-one would be able to steal from you. A gentleman came and stood next to you waiting for the next train that was supposed to come in about a minute.

What you didn't anticipate was Milan's sudden rush hour, some guy bumped into you making your trip over your bag. The guy who was next to you caught you and held you steady so you didn't fall onto the tunneled track.

"Thank you!" you smile up at him, and you guys continue to stare up at each other until the train comes into the station. People push their way off and the mystery man looks up at the train side and gasps when he notices it's his. He grabs his bag and jumps on while you watch in awe as the love of your life, your literal soulmate leaves the station on the train.

You wait knowing that one was heading out of the city and sit on a bench waiting for yours to come in.

You pick up the bag which feels slightly heavier than before but you don't think much off it. You get on the next tube which is luckily a lot quieter and manage to get a seat and have your bag on your lap. When you feel it, it feels a little odd, not as padded out in some areas as you remembered it being.

You slowly unzip the bag, seeing none of your things. No water bottle with turtle stickers, or university hoodie, no legal documents of your clients and no nice pair of heels you were supposed to put on before you got to the office after your train commute and small walk.

"No no no!" you whispers to yourself rummaging through finding a helmet, a suit and other various manly bits that weren't yours.

You then remembered the man on the platform and that you must have switched bags. You smiled at the thought that you guys had the exact same bags which just fueled your thoughts of the fact that the very attractive man that saved your life on the Milan underground was in fact your soulmate.

You get off at the next stop at a completely random place in Milan, where you see and advertisement for the F1 race in Monza. The guy must be something to do with that, he was heading that way and he had the helmet and race suit.

You pull out your phone and pull up your clients number before calling them.

"Hey Y/N!" they answer after one ring and immediately they sound a little guilty.

"Everything alright?" you ask.

"Well, you see somethings come up and I'm going to need to postpone everything until tomorrow and the day after, I'll pay for the flight for the inconvenience and your extra hotel expenses and you know what even through dinner on me tomorrow night. I'll take you to a nice place in Milan, but I'm so sorry I cant do it today!" she blurts out and a massive smile comes onto your face.

"That's no problem at all, I can er... do a little more research in the mean time and ... maybe explore the city!" you exclaim knowing you'd be heading on a tube straight for Monza.

"Ahhhh! Your a star I'm so glad the company sent you! I swear you are the only one I trust! But defiantly explore the city it's beautiful. I'll see you tomorrow babe but I really have to go! Okay goodbye!" she says before hanging up.

"You clutch the bag, looking around before you find your way to the nearest taxi service.

"Hello, could you take me to Monza? The er race track?" you ask having no idea if there was a specific name.

"130 euro!" he says and your eyes nearly bulge out of your head at the price.

"Yeah, that's fine!" you grit your teeth.

You are there in no-time jumping out after paying the driver and looking at the map to try and find the most sensible place to go. You assume the paddock where it leads to the garages makes the most sense.

However as you get there and see the security and the pass entrance you start to panic. You walk up to one of the security with a friendly smile on your face which was almost sheepish.

"Hi, this is going to sound so bizarre but I think I've switched bags with a driver and I have their helmet and race suit. Can I get in to hand it back to him please and to get my bag back?" you ask and he laughs.

"Yeah sod off kid!" he laughs the one next to him joining in.

"No I'm being series look!" you say unzipping the bag. They look at it and look between each other.

"Radio it through to alpine" one of the says before walking off through the entrance. You awkwardly stand there waiting for someone to say anything.

"I've been told to bring her through!" the one on the walky talky says letting you go through. He walks with you until you come up to one place that has a big picture of the man you met in the subway.

"Esteban?" you ask pointing to his picture and the security guard nods.

"Apparently he went out to look for you, he's been called by his team to come back as you are here!" he smiles before walking off towards the front. Someone comes running out the front in team gear smiling at you.

"Hey, come with me can we get you anything to drink. You can wait in Esteban's driver room!" he smiles and you politely decline a drink, placing yourself on the sofa and waiting patiently.

"Hey!" a voice interrupts you from scrolling on your phone.

"Hey, I erm think I have something of yours!" you grin, holding up the bag and he sighs seeing his bag the exact colour and model that yours was.

"Thank god! That bag has my life in it!" he cries.

"I think i would have been fired if I actually lost mine!" you admit.

"Yeah, I just want you to know the minute I saw confidential i didn't look through anything. I only found the key card to your hotel room, that's where I was heading to in hopes you'd gone there to try make some calls.

"I worked out you must be a driver and that you'd probably be in dire need so i came straight here!" you smile and he nods.

"Well thank you for delivering the goods!" he smiles handing over your bag. You smile and thank him, before hesitating to exit the room. However you do with a sad sort of smile, knowing you'd probably never see him again.

"Wait!" a voice shouts making your turn round and you see Esteban stood there.

"Can I please have your number, or take you out to dinner as a thank you?" he asks looking over you, trying to get a read.

"Really?" you grin, not expecting him to have asked.

"Well, I think it's sort of fate right?" he asks with a little sly grin on his face.

"Yeah, I guess you're right!" you grin.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @kapsylia @laneyspaulding19 @lazybot @malynn @cassielikereading @viennakarma @teamnovalak @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @jlb20416 @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @seomako @urdad-hot @formula1mount @tinydeskwriter @butterfly-lover @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount @styl1shl1v

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 #formula one #formula one fanfiction #esteban ocon #estie bestie #esteban ocon x reader #esteban ocon imagine #esteban ocon x you #esteban ocon x y/n #esteban ocon fanfic #eo31

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sparklingcid3r · 20 days

Note

wut did the convo between darry and child services go like? obvi was complicated but like genuinely how did he convince them he could b the guardian of 2 teenage boys? he genuinely must have nerves of steel.

also like must have been the worse adjustment if he always confided in paul or his dad when stressed, but now has no one. like his just isolation from any close relationship is soooo noticeable, esp compared to his brothers who actively lean on their best friends

just ignore that this might end up horribly inaccurate🙏 i’m here for a good time alr leave me alone😭 but fr darry was going through the traumas of odysseus on his voyage back to ithaca when he should have been getting lit at the club😔

Darry’s shell shock looks a whole lot like numbness. That’s how he feels, too, so when the same officers who just told him they’re very sorry, but his parents have been killed in an accident, he just stares and hears them iterate for him what exactly he needs to get done immediately. He forces himself to actually listen, because this isn’t about him, it’s about Pony and Soda and keeping a roof above their heads.

He needs to locate his ma and dad’s birth certificates and legal documents to have their wills probated and assets distributed, schedule an appointment with the funeral director, schedule a date for the funeral itself, meet with the court to be appointed Pony and Soda’s legal guardian, but that’s only after they deem him fit to be the sole caretaker of two teenagers. They’ll assign them a case manager. They’ll ask him what his salary is, they’ll call his old coaches to ask about his time management and self-discipline—what if he comes up short in some way? What if he makes a mistake and gets his brothers thrown in a home?

Fuck, then there’s the personal arrangements. He needs to call the college dean and tell him extraordinary circumstances have forced him to drop out, probably he’ll still have to pay for the rest of the semester he didn’t get to finish. When the case manager comes over for their meeting—the house is a mess from Darry’s birthday party, they’ll think Darry is okay with raising his brothers in filth. Something about bank statements too, he’s sure he’ll have to go over it, see what his parents have been paying for, what he’ll need to pay for and what he has to cut now that money’s about to be tighter. Bills, taxes, he needs to draw up a system to distribute those payments overdue or not. Groceries, do they need to go shopping soon? With what money? With Darry’s money, he needs to get a job now.

Darry gets to work.

Identifying the bodies is the first thing he does. He lets Steve and Johnny stay over to keep Pony and Soda company. Two-Bit offers to come with Darry to the hospital, but he refuses. When he gets to the hospital, he sees Dally standing at the entrance, cross-armed and stone-faced. He doesn’t even look at Darry when he arrives. Just pushes himself off the pillar and shrugs. “Your call.”

Darry says nothing, so Dally follows him in. The police lead him to the morgue. The sheets are carefully folded back to reveal their faces, and Darry’s stomach heaves and his eyes blur. His parents are shredded. They’re just bodies, sliced, crushed bodies. He doesn’t even realize he stumbling until a steeled hand grabs him and keeps him upright, and Dally’s saying “Easy, easy, man. Breathe, Darrel. That them?”

Darry nods. All he’s think is that it’s going to be a closed casket funeral.

The wills are the next thing he deals with. Once those are probated and the surrogate has deemed them official, Darry is free to pay the fees and obtain his inheritance, as well as transfer his parents’ money to his name in the bank.

Next, Darry searches for a job. Something physical, or something to do with numbers. He was going to be an accountant after all, might as well make some use of the few months he spent studying. After busting his ass hunting and applying, he lands a job at Fitzmorris Roofing and starts as soon as he can. The pay is decent, but not enough, so he keeps looking. Eventually he finds out about a firm at the edge of town looking for a bookkeeper, so Darry goes in for an interview and walks out with his second job.

Then are the bank statements. Darry gets issued a copy of his parents’ bank statements from the previous month and spends entire nights going through them. After crunching the numbers twice, he finds out that in two months from now, they’ll have to go without paying the electricity bill for a few weeks while Darry’s paychecks catch up with expenses. Better than going hungry. They’ll just have to deal with the dark.

So far, they’ve been feeding off the numerous donations from families around town. Lasagnas and casseroles and meatloafs, that’s what they’ve been pushing around their plates for the past two weeks. Darry surmises they have about one more week to make those last, then he’ll need to crack open a cookbook or two.

He meets with the funeral director. He advises Darry on what graveyard to pick, what kinds of caskets to hold the bodies in, how much of the burial will be covered by insurance. All Darry understands is that this is money he’ll need to cut from their budget. It eats at him.

Darry blinks and a week has gone by.

He doesn’t really remembering seeing Pony and Soda during it. Everything’s a blur. But he looks at a calendar and realizes with a seize of his heart that their case manager is supposed to meet them for the first time in—an hour and a half.

Shit, he hasn’t even gotten to cleaning the house yet. There’s laundry on the fucking couch, for Christ’s sake. Darry snatches it up and bangs down Soda and Pony’s door, dumping it on the bed. He sees a lump under the blanket and a jolt rocks him—that’s your brother, that’s Ponyboy, he’s grieving, he’s in pain, he needs help—but all he can do is kick the mattress and tell him, “On your feet, Ponyboy, Mrs. Mulligan’ll be here for dinner.” Pony doesn’t move, but there’s nothing else Darry can do, so he rips the blanket off Pony and leaves, slamming the door behind him because his own strength has become unfamiliar to him.

Soda’s in the backyard doing whatever the hell Soda’s been doing while Darry was out, and he’s called in but he comes trailing in like a wet dog. Darry doesn’t know what he’ll do if this meeting doesn’t go well, if Mulligan says Darry is not suited to provide for his brothers, how he’ll possible be able to live by himself knowing his brothers have been separated, so he snaps for Soda to stand up straight and fix his hair. Soda looks at him blankly, and again there’s a voice in Darry’s head—Sodapop’s not alright, he’s not talking, he’s not smiling, he’s not laughing, you have to fix this—but all he can say is “Now, dammit” and hits the countertop, spooking Soda enough to get him to flee, and Darry’s alone again, cleaning the table of the bills and documents, pushing them on top of the icebox and out of sight.

Darry’s prepped one of their last donated meals, macaroni salad, and set the table as nice as he can.

Fifteen minutes before Mrs. Mulligan arrives, he checks in on Pony and Soda. He stands outside their door, hand raised to knock, but he can hear them talking.

Talking about him.

“He’s gone crazy, Soda, I swear. When’s the last time you saw him stand still for two seconds? If you’ve seen him at all.”

“Dunno, Ponykid.”

“I miss Ma. I miss her and Dad. It’s like Darry hasn’t even noticed they’re gone.”

“Naw, baby, don’t say that. He’s trying, I think. He’s trying awful hard. We just don’t see it.”

“You don’t even know that. What if he’s making plans to shove us in a boys’ home?”

Darry can’t take it. His breath is lodged in his throat, but he can’t go falling apart right now, not when he’s come this far and still has a long way to go. He just knocks and calls them out to the living room.

Darry can’t meet their eyes when they sit in the living room. Pony’s lean on Soda’s shoulder but Darry can’t think about that, he’s got to put the macaroni salad in a bowl and clean off the utensils and “Pony, I told you to wash the dishes this morning.” With his back turned to his brothers, Darry winces. Anger never used to seep out this easily. But everything was enough of a threat to push him over the edge. Everything everyone said to him pierced him like a hook, made his tongue feel heavy and his blood feel hot. He needed to put a lid over it tonight.

Mrs. Mulligan’s eyes don’t rise to Darry’s when he opens the door for her. She looks behind him at their living room, at Soda and Pony on the couch, makes a funny noise in the back of her throat, then extends her hand out to Darry. Immediately Darry knows he’s going to be on the defensive the entire night. This woman does not approve of where Soda and Pony are being raised. Whether that means she doesn’t approve of the East side as a location or Darry as a guardian, he isn’t sure.

She drills him, but it’s disguised as gentle. Darry does everything slowly. Serving the food, making small talk, discussing Pony and Soda’s grades. Mulligan switches to speaking directly to the boys, and Darry’s not hungry, but he pretends to enjoy chewing the rubbery macaroni and keeps his head down.

Despite their reservations about life without their parents, Soda and Pony defend Darry to the case manager. It goes smoothly enough that she leaves Darry with a smile and a promise to stay in touch.

When the door clicks shut, Pony is gone in the blink of an eye back to his room. Soda just stalks into the kitchen and starts wrapping up leftovers, cleaning off the dishes. Darry tries to get Soda to sleep, but Soda turns to him.

“I’ll do the dishes, Darry. Just don’t get mad at Pony.”

“No, Soda, I’ll do it—“

“You’re tired, Darry. Let me be useful?”

Soda always knew how to spin the conversation in his favor. He was right. Darry was tired. He was just… tired.

But there’s a reason Darry hasn’t given himself a restful night yet. He doesn’t trust himself yet.

“Give me the sponge, Sodapop. Pony needs you.”

Darry’s had sixteen years to learn how to outmaneuver his kid brother. He’s not in the mood to fight fair.

Soda concedes and draws away from the sink, but he lingers in the doorway. “We need you, too, Darry.”

“I know. I’ll be here in the morning.”

He wouldn’t be. He’d be gone by the time they woke up, on top of a roof with bundles of roofing slung over his shoulder, but it wasn’t his physical presence that mattered. He was going to keep their heads above water, no matter what it took.

“When’s the funeral?” asks Soda.

“Friday.”

Two days. Two days until it was official and their parents were covered in dirt. Darry just needed to keep it together until then.

“G’night, Darry.”

“G’night.”

When the funeral comes, Darry’s quiet. Pony and Soda are weeping, unashamed by it, so Darry’s the one people feel comfortable giving their condolences to. He shakes a lot of hands, feels disgusted by it, like he’s collecting germs and other people’s bad luck. The gang is there, even Dally, but they hang in the back of the crowd, discounting Two-Bit, who’s up front with his ma and sister.

After Darry gives the eulogy he doesn’t remember writing, he watches twin caskets get sunk into the ground, dirt spilling on top of them, and Darry is officially alone. He leaves the ceremony, goes and sits down on a bench outside the fencing.

Not yet. Don’t break yet.

A shadow falls across his own. Dally’s taking drags from a cigarette at his side. He’s just as quiet as Darry, but offers the cancer stick. Darry accepts it, taking a few puffs. He’s out of practice and coughs the first time. Dally just pats his back and waits for him to try again. It feels good, but not the kind of good Darry knows he can depend on. He’s still got to stay healthy if he’s going to be trudging around in the sun for half his day and sitting around doing math for the other half.

“Do what you gotta do, as long as it’s nothing permanent,” Dally says.

“Couldn’t if I wanted to,” Darry replies, handing back the cigarette. His eyes sting.

It’s like the world’s stopped rotating after his parents are put to rest. Not when Darry actually expected it to. He closes the door to his parents’ bedroom, the room he’s been sleeping in for the past… however long it’s been.

He doesn’t even make it to the bed. The moment the door’s locked behind him, Darry’s loosening his dad’s tie from his neck, yanking at his dad’s collar to untighten his airways, but it doesn’t work. He slumps against the door and slides down, messing up his hair and crying into his arms, only as hard as his silence will allow. Pony and Soda are in the next room over, still teary, consoling each other. Darry won’t steal their reprieve.

He falls apart alone, wondering how he’s meant to wake up tomorrow in a world he doesn’t want to live in. And when he picks himself up and puts himself back together, he’ll do that alone too. He doesn’t have a choice.

istg sometimes yall just gotta LET ME COOK 👩‍🍳 can u tell i got super into it the longer i went on for lmao

oh btw this doesn’t scratch the surface of everything darry prob needed to do. he would have had to choose what his parents wore in their caskets, dealt with the scrapping of the car, assumed responsibility of the real estate deed (the house), communicated with pony and soda’s high school, communicated with his parents’ former employers, etc etc. the break was uncatchable i fear

#the outsiders #the outsiders darry #darry curtis #the outsiders headcanons #the outsiders musical #the outsiders ponyboy #the outsiders sodapop #ponyboy curtis #sodapop curtis #the outsiders fanfiction #the outsiders dally #dallas winston #the outsiders johnny #johnny cade #the outsiders two bit #two bit mathews #steve randle #the outsiders steve

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plasticfangtastic · 5 months

Text

A Garden Without Impurity

A Homelander x GN Reader fic one-shot

A/N: Should be working on my other fics but i needed to get this out me system, inspired by a conversation I had in this site and watching the apothecary diaries, not an expert on chinese harem systems but i based this sort of on the Qin Dynasty system bcuz it was like the simpliest, like those emperors got around a lot… this is more drabble than fic-fic but i hope y’all enjoy.

Tags: light smut, 3-some, bilander, dark topics, not proofread I die here, non-canon complaint/canon-divergent, takes place in who knows, traditional polygamy, no dialogue here btw, Homelander being himself, light gore.

Word Count: 5K

Synopsis: You’re a member of Homelander harem, this is but a documentation of that.

Homelander was always a lonely man perpetually hunting after love, for anybody who could give him attention, who would want him. He clung easily to lovers, too young at first to notice how easily he could be tricked into becoming nothing but a trophy fuck, too inmature to notice how his behaviour frightened them in the long run, and the more and more he was hurt the worse he became, all he’d learned was how to hide his anguish– turning him dangerously bitter.

Lovers came easy but just as easily they left– either scared straight by an army of lawyers, handsomely compensated or increasingly more often in pine boxes… crisis management meetings became so commonplace they began to be run on emails.

He was a man desperate for love– so much love to give but nobody could ever give him an ounce of what he needed, an ounce of what he gave, he was hungry for intimate devotion and adoration, the public could only give him bites sizes but it was fading and quick, and his mind steadily warping from this unfulfilled primal need.

Lovers couldn’t handle how pushy he became, how possessive and controlling he could become, how he wished to monopolize everything– so it was a problem, his sickly nature only wisthand by those contractually obligated to tolerate him, Maeve who had been so perfect until the downstairs neighbors logged less and less noise complaints as their passion cool and soured and Madelyn whose allure came in how untouchable she was, how forbidden she was, how much of a special occasion she had to be, and well rumors circulated involving Mr. Edgar but nobody ever dared to discuss it much.

Porn seem to alleviate some issues but the poor team in-charge of monitoring his online usage had filed formal complaint about having to be subjected to so much ‘stepmom porn’ and increasingly bizarre fetishes, whether he watched them to get off or not was unknown but once he switched the porn to browsing r/watchpeopledie– a meeting had to be made and this time it was in person.

It was hard to pin-point the exact moment a suit suggested this solution– it was merely a joke but no matter how thick these walls were it would never be missed by Homelander, who indulge them.

And the project began to take place, with the end goal to provide him with company, and a controlled environment for Vought overseeing… a facility where the damage would be limited to seven floors and 30 large and luxurious condos.

Legally this building was just one of the many owned by Vought– like many other megacorps it was no surprise Vought dab in real estate, owning a couple buildings around the city to provide employee accommodation much like their Silicon Valley competition. After selecting the small building that once simply served as their own service apartments to accommodate shareholders, the project began to take place.

Homelander found it amusing, interested as to what things were going… surprised about how much he was looking forward to this, much to his chagrin– Homelander was very much a man and at the thought of being supplied with sex on tap he was quite happy to play along giving it a fair-go for a few weeks then forget about it after the novelty faded.

The first iteration was an utter failure, simply nothing but a duped “Playboy” Mansion, women who were paid to seduce him and become available whenever he desired– they were boring, they weren’t there for him, they were there for the paycheck and presents, for the free rent and the possibility of becoming his favorite perhaps.

It was dull.

Painfully dull, nothing different from what he was doing, only it was kept behind closely guarded doors and managed by the company that micromanaged everything else in his life.

Dull Lovers who barely pretended to care, who rolled their eyes when he wanted to talk about his interest, who looked at their phones during the good scenes of his favorite films, who signed when he wished to be held, who gave no enthusiastic response at anything but Versace and Jimmy Choo’s.

He felt the ever growing emptiness spread further like a cancerous mass.

As he sat alone sinking on his couch flipping channels in the dark and his eyes finally grew heavy for the night– his fingers stopped in some show about a man trying to balance having four wives, the scenario intrigued him… a man married to several women who seemed enamored with him despite all the drama in the background… These women on his screen weren’t like the ones provided… they weren’t his… They didn’t love him nor wanted to devote themselves to him, they were just high paid prostitutes– even the women at the Playboy Mansion he had met seemed to have a better relationship to the old creep than his own had to him– he wasn’t special or interesting to them.

It was transactional and the affection unconvincing, unlike this man’s wives who seemed to care about him, who didn’t look forward to meeting other men or keep in touch with old John’s and sold their feet pics online to just any guy.

Vought or the public would never allow him to have a dozen wives, he wasn’t even a Mormon, officially he was an Evangelical just in name not in practice so he couldn’t simply adopt the church's views nor was he interested in even more rigid rules… I mean he did enjoy a cup of coffee every once in a blue moon and he certainly had a spicy tongue.

It took a lot of trial and error and plenty of lawyers too.

But a single joke turned into this…

You had been there for quite a long time, you seen plenty of pretty faces come and go, most left because they disliked the system in place– had they simply bothered to glance the wikipedia article on Chinese harem practices before signing the dotted line their grievances would have been lessened… altho calling yourself a polygamist might not even been an applicable label– after all his rules made it difficult to do so.

You had simply been a low-level intern when Homelander first laid eyes on you all those years ago.

He watched you for a long time and you watched him with the same intensity, he was a pretty thing, he had a quirky laugh that veer into cackle territory, his hands were as soft as the rest of him and above all you could tell pretty early on that there was a hunger inside him unmatched by anything else.

No lover before had ever made you feel so wanted, he made you feel as if he was born for you, no lover ever devoured you with a single look… it was desperate.

When have you ever felt this desire before? You asked yourself the more intense this became.

You never experience the titillation and the fear that his hunger inspired in you, the way he touched and explored every inch of your skin inside that broom closet made you fear for your life, as if he would feast on you and gnaw at your bones like a dog with a fresh treat, that one spicy rendezvous after office hours quickly became a regular occurrence and he never had enough.

Neither did you.

His gentleness hid praise worthy self-control, he molded his performance after what made you feel best but you would soon learn it was performance– you were puddy in his hands as he trapped you with this pleasure.

To be yearned for was different, he wanted all your free time to be for him, to ignore all the pretty faces and nameless ass that crossed your sight and devote yourself to him, he was honest about wanting you, about wanting you to love him just as much as he could love you.

Made worse by the fact that you had no qualms with the worst of his personality your fights and arguments as unhealthy as anybody else but always over petty things, never about the nights he soaked the carpet with some miscreant chunky remains, after all you had to be a bit loopy and unhinge to look at him as if he was the only source of light in the cave that was your life.

It was a long courtship before he told you about ‘The Gardens’. At first you simply thought it was another luxury building stuck in Manhattan but behind the doorman and reception clerk was a building only inhabited by lovers.

It wasn’t easy to digest– but floor to ceiling windows, private drivers and Hermes boxes demonstrate to your ego that you might have a price… The 6 figure allowance certainly made your stomach drop as you accepted new found facts about yourself… this was not counting any extra presents– after all your job would be to stay pretty and interesting for him.

You certainly had your suspicions but you had been quite enamored with the Supe, unable to look away from those cornflower blues and the sad expression painting his face as he began to suspect your rejection, the palpable anguish he was trying so hard to contain. Accepting simply to do a few excessive sessions of retail therapy on his dime to recover from the shock, coming in thinking he will grow bored of you soon enough and you could commence the healing process afterwards.

But you never left ‘The Gardens’, the people who ran the building would refer to you as the Noble Consort with the Empress or Imperial Noble Consort reserved for whoever Homelander was dating for the papers (altho you would have given the title of Stillwell for the longest time), to your disbelief you found enjoyment in this arrangement, your were free to pursue whatever you wanted for money was now not a problem– all those hobbies you had abandoned, halted and wished to explore were now back on the table, a new career change or education now a possibility, even pursuing a lifelong passion or dream was available, as long as you kept pretty and keep his favor.

There were other rules of course… Nobody besides Homelander could be in your life. Sex-work was out of the question once somebody took residency in one of the handful of luxury condos. Not involving oneself romantically with any of the other concubines or anybody was also a major rule. He demanded a vow of secrecy as well obviously– telling anybody about the arrangement specially online or the media, and you would have a head on your front door… you would have prefered a finger, a tooth or a kidney like the others on your floor but he left the brainless severed head on yours.

You were certain that Vought kept a dystopian level of watch over your digital footprint while you no longer worked with Vought and did your thing… you heard the rumor of a shadow department whose whole job was to watch this place– it wasn’t really out of the realm of possibility after all Homelander was worth billions to them… and if not Homelander was there watching somehow.

Which is how you end up with having to call somebody to pick up and puzzle the old concubine back together.

He was The Emperor and thus you had to act like a noble, anybody caught breaking his rules would be in more than a little trouble– Homelander was quite cruel once a lover lost his fancy.

But not as cruel as the other residents when they sensed somebody trying to plant the seeds of discourse, threats to the system were ever present whenever he brought a new concubine, those who survived the longer kept the peace.

A mixture of jealousy and self-preservation feed the cruelty… after all these years you liked your comfortable life and so did the others– those with more expensive taste to your own, those whose families were partially supported by Homelander (if he was aware or not was not yours or his problem) those who loved him and didn’t wish to part, and those who needed his support to make sure even if he grew bored with them they had a back-up to their back-up, none who would risk losing it all just because some new lover wanted him all for himself– they had no grace about it and would soon realize that tribalistic nature of humans… unless somebody whispered sweetly in John’s ear and prevented the carnage.

Unsure as to why anybody would want to monopolize him as if this entire building wasn’t a red flag about how pointless that was, you discussed with the others.

He was more than an armful, he was too much even for you who obsessed so easily with him, who demanded his attention and affection but ultimately unable to match just how much he needed in return, you stopped disliking this new life because Homelander would never be satiated, because he would wear you down to a stub, because he would scare you away if you didn’t find a way to get breathing room, more for his sake than your own. You loved him, you wanted to hold tight but if he kept going you would let go of his hand mid-flight and the thought of hating him or falling out of love with him filled you with dread.

You needed him on a cellular level, you joked in the past as you talked to a neighbor, who understood you as he laughed.

It stung for a long time to live this way– You just made it look easy.

But you made it, and it earned you some perks.

You checked your agenda to make sure that time had come around, you weren’t called the Noble Consort for nothing– he would reserve you even outside your birthday week.

8.3 million people in this city and he could make sure you felt like the only one in this town.

Perpetually charming you thought as he landed inthe balcony with your favorite chocolate and flowers.

If Homelander had to explain why he kept you the longest it was how you talked to him earnestly, you treated him as if he was not just a celeb but a husband, how happy you always were too see him, how you always clung to his shoulders even before his boots touched the ground and how quickly you always dragged him inside worried he would get sick from the cold winds, even if he went weeks without seeing you in person you never let him see it, it was as if no matter how long it had pass you couldn’t care less, only the now you experienced together mattered.

He wondered if this was how sailors felt when they came back home after a lengthy tour, if it was warm like this.

No matter how long this had been going on for– your love was genuine, he even thought of you as a weekend masochist for putting up with his whims, but you took him as he was and that was something special… something worth keeping… worth protecting.

He could snuggle in your chest all he wanted, he knew your fingers would scratch his scalp without command, he would find your warmth either gifted by your words or your core.

A perfect spouse to him, he would whisper to himself when you slept or when he missed you, in this intimacy he knew he would stay with you, the only one who understood what this place was all about, who was this emperor’s favorite.

Now when it came to sex–the life of his concubine wasn’t sexless… you doubted the man actually lived in his actual penthouse all the way up in Vought Tower, he might use it to change suits or pick up his mail, for he would share somebody else’s bed every night, if he didn’t you would find out at the lobby, perks of knowing everybody in the building was that rumors traveled quickly and plans of actions would be organized in elevators… so your bed was not infrequent and during your weeks he would always sleep there.

You keep a spare pair of his boots and gloves that didn’t came with the apartment, which said a lot about how infrequently did he slept at his legal address and your longevity in this palace– what did came was a toothbrush, comb, some of his skincare products and extra-creamy milk restocked frequently more so these days.

These private weeks were both sugary and bitter, date nights and cuddling lazily on the couch as he spoke of his day and listened to yours, you spoke a lot catching up with lost time while he washed your back and you washed his hair, knowing he would leave soon enough and return to some girl back in the tower or go downstairs.

And as your week ended he would treat you to something adventurous.

You kissed him in the upper courtyard by the warm dim lights surrounded by whistling shrubs, the night was starting to grow cold, draping his cape around you for your comfort, he moaned as your lips suckled on his neck savoring the feel of your tongue as you drew lines on chin, slowly melting on your sweltering heat, your hand taking his thigh with a firm squeeze teasing him as they came close to his member, kissing until lips bruised and blood inked his tongue, you kissed until his jaw started to numb and his cock leaked with anticipation, being uphere where somebody might see always excited him, he had already baptized every bench in this courtyard but it didn’t lose his splendor just yet.

His hips buckle as your hand finally gave him much needed affection, hearing your muscles push as hard as they could against him, mewling as you chuckled with delight at his reactions, his eyes so hazy.

Trembling as your hand left him, you pulled at his belt watching him blush as he remembered that the one thing you lacked was super strength, you leaned back as he swiftly began to lower his tights, throwing his belt to the ground so the cold steel wouldn’t make you shudder.

His cock was hard, crying rivers into the cold wind until your lips kissed it better.

He made no attempt to conceal his moaning, growling as your teeth grazed the sensitive head, he was unapologetically loud, this was the one place where he forgo all his acting lessons, nor did you want him to be quiet it made you excited to hear him moan, he just sounded so needy– cute too… and tonite he was obscenely loud, animalistic even, grunting and growling as your drooled unto your chin and made his thigh slippery, as you took his cock down to the base, licking down his taint, he lifted his legs adjusting his position to follow your tongue, whining and panting as you pleasured him, aggressively pumping at his cock as you suck gently on his balls.

You look up from half-lid eyes drowning on your own pleasure, he came with ease coating your throat with his thick salty cum but just as quickly as he came he would come back up and just as hard as a minute ago– you made it into a game to see how many times you could make him cum before he begged you to let him do it inside you for that was the only way to kill his battery. Pumping his shaft with short and quick pump focusing on the mid-length as to deprive his crying tip taking sadistic delight in knowing that he wanted you to touch the tip immediately but being too far gone to asks for it clearly as he mumbled incoherently behind his breathy wanton, his hips following the rhythm of your hands and tongue.

A shaky smile crossed his lips as the consort took pity on him, you chuckled knowing you won an unspoken bet with your downstairs neighbor, pulling their hair out of the way as their head went up and down and lips grazed your fingers.

You climbed up letting your fellow concubine enjoy themselves in this debauchery.

Biting on his ears as you whispered what you wished to do with him, calling him by his name with a sweetness that tingled something scary inside him.

Homelander laughed weakly against you, his hand pulling on the other’s hair gently, he spouts his orders, throwing the cushions unto the ground you both give each other giddy looks as the man pulls you down with him with the last bit of composure he had before burying his face with your crotch, one hand kept your hips in place and the other held his other concubine hand, gasping against you as the other took him, you saw red– it was not a competition but you did not want him to only focus on the warm enveloping his cock.

All that filled the air were your choir of moans above his muffled coos and whines as you fucked his mouth, his tongue doing his best to keep up, eyes rolling back as you took fistfuls of his hair pulling harshly distracting him so much that he had begun to run of breath, as he ate everything and swallowed desperately, trying to concentrate on the feeling developing his tongue and lips and the sweet musky scent drowing him, fading with a twsited smile as you fucked him earnestly and harshly, he loved it when he was made into a bitch, he would never say it outloud of course– like many things in this building it went unspoken, but you could tell that all the old residents shared a certain quality to them.

Men and women who provided something everybody was afraid of giving to him before.

You’d seen him cling to men and women who wished to mark him, who told him that he was as much their property as they were his.

That proved their love was not superficial… It was genuine.

Or genuine enough for him.

He moaned and bucked his hips pathetically, yearning to reach the furthest parts of you, filling you, to feel his own cum foaming within you as he fucked you.

Moving you quickly, glad that this time he had thought ahead with these cushions for your knees would be bleeding and burning otherwise– it was all hazy at this point, all you knew was his name, the cold wind hardening your nipples, and the sound of his hips slapping into you as he whimpered with a mixture of desperation and pleasure, he finger fucked your companion, hands fucking his lover just as fast and hard to have the concubine running out of breath begging Homelander to not dare stop, making a mess of themselves on his fingers, coating them as their hole squelched and sucked him right back in, as the man grew pleased with the sight, your hands interlocked squeezing hard as they rode their orgasm to a happy end.

You caught a ruby glimpse reflecting in a metal bench nearby, you gulped knowing you had to think quickly.

Turning your face and arching your back as you begged him to hold you.

Coming loudly letting your knees and elbows give up, letting him push you down with his weight, always surprised how heavy those silly golden eagles are, you couldn’t believe his shoulders weren’t stiff 24/7, with a satisfied chuckle he waits for you both to snuggle with him.

The other urges him to take it into their apartment for it was getting cold and they sure didn’t want to catch a cold.

He half-begrudgingly agreed, wishing deep down to go a few more rounds outside but as he felt your goosebumps he took you both inside urgently.

Your hands never touched after that, Homelander ever so vigilant of both your movements, all you could do was hope the concubine would learn just how stringent and absurd John could be, fearful that anybody would dare hold affections to anybody but him.

You kissed his neck, nuzzling against him as he watched the sleeping concubine coldly, arguing with himself if they had meant to break the rules.

Whispering his name as he squeezed your stomach, soothing his unspoken anxiety he let go of those thoughts.

He returned your affections, easing into him as you fed off his warmth.

You whispered quietly, enjoying each other, easing his worries.

This was a peculiar life but in these quiet moments it was like any other.

In these moments it all felt perfectly normal, the world might never get it entirely and you yourself struggled with it at times but when you woke up to his kisses on your chest as he found a way to turn into the little spoon while the other sneaked to the toilet, you certainly didn’t want to change things.

Not one bit.

#homelander #homelander x reader #the boys fanfic #homelander fanfiction #personal #my fic tag #homelander x you #tempted to write a little series on these but if anybody wants to write about concubines feel free #on my behalf #might come back and re-edit this

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