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thecapricunt1616 · 3 days

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Coriander (c.b. one-shot)

♡ Chapter Inspo: Love, health, immortality, and protection. Tie fresh coriander with a ribbon and hang in the home to bring peace & protection. Add to love charms and spells to bring romance or use in ritual work to ease the pain of a broken love affair. Promotes peace among those who are unable to get along. Use the seeds in love sachets and spells. ♡ Summary: You are in a FWB situation with Richie, Mikey dies - Carmy comes home to run The Beef, and suddenly...you find yourself in a FWB situation with Carmy as well, what happens when Carmy makes you two official in secret so he can have you all to himself? ♡ W/C: 5.3K+ ♡ Posted Date: 05/29/2024 ♡ A/N: Hellooooo! Happy day 4/7 of the Capri 200 Follower Celebration Extravaganza!!! You can find said extravaganza ♡Here♡ this celebration will be going until next Sunday (06/02/24) so get your requests in! Here's another celebration ask on the books! This ask is from a sweet anon, ask can be found right ♡Here♡ - Thank you so much for your request! As you can tell by the word count I got very inspired! I hope you enjoy :D This could easily have a part 2 so if you want one, just let me know in the comments This is kind of a Richie/Carmy thing i've never written Richie before and I had a whole lot of fun doing so! ♡ Warnings for BTC: Swearing, FWB Relationships, Smoking, Usual TB trigger warnings, Asshole!Carmy (kinda), Angst, No real comfort to be found in the end, Age gap relationships, Rough sex, smutsmutsmut, No uses of Y/N, Reader not described (pics are for vibes only)

♡ 𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞 ♡ ➵ 𝘊𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 / 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘵 ♡ ➵ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 ♡

You had been working at The Bear since it was The Beef. 3 months before Mikey died, you were hired as a food runner. You’d met Mike maybe twice? Both times, the guy was high out of his mind- so you couldn’t say much about his character.

Richie on the other hand, was flirty. He was handsome, he was funny, he had a huge cock. You were in your third year of college, Richie was smitten with your girlish charm, and you’d fucked those 3 months pretty consistently - until Carmy came back to Chicago.

You’d been warned his ‘cousin’ was a big shot NYC chef, ‘Michelin Starred’ Richie said one night while fucking your brains out after a stressful shift as he smoked a cigarette in his shitty, dimly lit apartment. Puffs of smoke left his lips as your ass bounced against his hips and he rambled on about what had pissed him off today,

“Ye’ sweetheart- fuck-“ he took a long inhale before continuing - “mm’y’fuckin tight baby- shit-“ he stuttered as your pussy clenched around his cock firmly as your second orgasm washed over you, thighs shivering. “Thaaas it- huh? Gooood girl. Knew y’could do it babygirl” he kissed the dimple on your spine as you shivered, tendrils of smoke trailing up your back and over your hips.

He then sat up, casually taking another drag, tightening his non-dominant hand around your hip so there would be little fingertip bruises once more over the yellowing hearing ones, and continued, his bruising pace getting rougher and quicker as he continued chasing his own orgasm.

The meat of your ass and the skin of his hips made smacking sounds as they came together. Pathetic little whines drag from your lips with each rough kiss the tip of his cock gave your cervix as he just continued talking like he wasn’t using you like a fuck doll.

“he uh, has a Michelin star- whatever that means? He’s a little prick. Guess that’s ahh-fuck- that’s why Mike left it t’him- he knows how t’make fancy shit- little fuckin’ Eleven Madison Park dickhead” he grunted as he filled you up, spanking you roughly for good measure.

“Good girl. Always take it like a little whore mm?” He puts out his cigarette in the ashtray. He pats your hip gently as he pulls out, collapsing next to you with an old man grunt that you always teased him for. “Ey’ sweet girl, Y’wanna rub my back since I fucked y’so good mm? So I won’t be sore at work tomorrow?” He pulled you close, kissing your neck, his stubble making you shiver as cum leaked down your beard-burned thighs.

That was how you spent one to three nights a week since you’d started working at The Beef.

Then, Carmy came. For the first 6 or so months, it was business as usual for you and Richie. Quiet spanks on the ass as you walked by him during rush as you brought food out to a customer, sometimes letting him fuck your face in the back alley as he went on about what an asshole Carmen was being that day.

You just took it, the fighting, the bickering, the sexual tension. You were the go-between for the both of them, when they weren’t talking Richie would bug you to go tell Carmy what he needed to say. “Immature asshole” you’d call him at the end of the day as he knelt between your thighs in that same shitty apartment, sucking on your clit while his beard scratched up your thighs. He’d just chuckle into you, squeezing your thighs amusedly with his large hands.

Then one day, you were in the dry storage, grabbing something for Marcus that was on the bottom shelf and heavy. You were bent over, trying to tug it out and the door shut behind you. “Hey- sorry just gonna reach over you-“ Carmy. When you felt him press against your ass like that, his tattooed hand resting on your hip. You felt heat rushing straight for your core, your stomach flipping and fluttering.

Then, you started making moves. A brush of the hand here, a smile there, a giggle at one of his dorky jokes no one else bothered to pay attention to, of course, he noticed. The young piece of ass that used to spend all day giggling and shooting the shit with his older cousin was into him now. The first night it happened, you made sure to pick up a double on a day you usually didn’t go home with Richie, and while everyone except Carmy did their best to rush out the door as soon as they possibly could, you stuck behind.

You went to the bathroom, fixed up your hair, and your makeup not enough to be noticeable to a guy that you’d changed, but enough to look fresh. You put on some more lipgloss, freshening up your body spray and hiking your tote bag onto your shoulder before heading out of the ladies' room into the back-of-house. You heard the swish swish of a scrub brush, and the plopping of water - and knew Carmy was still in there scrubbing something. When you turned the corner to see him on his hands and knees, muscular arms flexing as he really scrubbed that floor. You could tell there was something….about Carmen Berzatto.

It wasn’t just the fact his brother died, it wasn’t this strange stoic seriousness he had at not even 35, it was something else. Dedication, maybe? But you weren't sure to what because not a day went by without referring to the restaurant as ‘a shithole with decent sandwiches’ - you knew he was just keeping it running because it’s what Cicero wanted and no one denied that man. But you wanted to see if that dedication or learning ability translated into the bedroom. “Damn- You could eat off that grout” you teased. His head popped up, blue eyes twinkling under the iridescent lights.

This damn family and their pretty eyes

“The hell you still doin’ here? Y’shift ended what-” he looked at the clock, “An hour and six minutes ago” he continued scrubbing at the tile with the tiny little brush.

“Oh you memorized my shift schedule?” you teased, a small smile on your lips. You were towering over him, being sure to block his light so he would give you his attention once more.

“I make the schedule, yeah I know when my employees work” he looked up at you again “n’y’re in my light” he pushed his greasy curls out of his way with his dry hand.

“Mmm- last I checked Chef Syd did the scheduling- unless…that changed?” you asked and he looked back at the floor, scrubbing over the same spot he had been since you came over here.

He made a little ‘mm’ noise and was quiet for a few moments as he continued to scrub. “So why are you still here if y’not gettin’ paid?” he asked again. You crouched next to him, hugging your knees and he stopped, looking over at you. He could smell your perfume perfectly, your lipgloss glitter was shimmering in the light. He could very well near smell the mint coming off of your breath from the gum you had chewed an hour earlier. He swallowed thickly, blinking a few times how he did when he was confused he noticed and his eyes fan to your lips before back up to your eyes. “Uh-”

You cut him off “Cause I haven’t met you, Carmy. We haven’t talked, Why’s that?” you question with a small, innocent smile. It was true, he all but ignored you while he’d been here. The only time he spoke to you was when he absolutely had to tell you something or when he was assigning you your morning tasks when you first got in.

“W-What d’you wanna know?” he asked, tongue darting out to quickly wet his lips. He was nervous.

“Why do you ignore me for starts” you jet your bottom lip slightly out into a little barely there pout for added effect, “Tina asked me a few days ago what I did, so what did I do Carmy?” you ask gently. You knew it was because you caught him staring at you so often he thought you thought he was a creep, but you thought it was adorable how flustered he got when he’d been caught and quickly tried to make it look like he’d been focused on something else.

“Nothin- nothin’ y-you didn’t do anything m’sorry I made you feel- what’re you-” he trailed off as you gently fixed his Saint Anthony chain so it was facing front, carefully slipping your finger under the loop and pinching it between your forefinger and thumb, adjusting the clasp to be at the back of his neck.

“Sorry, small things like that bug me, I think little things bug you too, Carm” you said softly. His cheeks were getting pink, his pupils were widening. Your plan was working. “Is this ok?” you gently fixed the sleeve of his t-shirt over his bicep, the fabric deliciously stretching over his buff arm

“Mhmm” he muttered, breath catching as your hand trailed up his shoulder and resting there. “Did you um- did you need something…” he asked, voice that delicious kind of soft you adored.

“I thought you'd never ask. I’m gonna go to the back office and wait. If you think you know what I need, then come on back. If you don’t want to, we can just pretend this never happened mm?” you got up, making sure to sway your hips a tad more as you went to the back office. You pushed the door shut behind you and dropped your tote under the desk, sitting down on it and leaning back against the wall. He came in 2 minutes later, cheeks red, biting his lip as he opened the door and saw you sitting on the desk.

He blinked rapidly, as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing “Jesus Christ” he muttered to himself, shutting the door behind him. “Y-y’re sure. Like- wait you mean- you mean you want me t-”

“Do whatever you want with me, chef,” you told him in a sultry tone, watching him closely as he walked over. You’d assumed he’d be just like Richie, rough, unforgiving, and sometimes even a little mean, but the way he cupped your cheek was…gentle.

“Are you sure you want this? M’y’r boss..I don’ want you t’feel like i’m…making you, ‘er somethin’” he ran his thumb over your cheekbone. He was so close that you could smell the cigarette smoke on his breath as well as the musky scent of the long workday mixed with his cologne. You were nearly put in a trance by it. In response, you gently rest your palm on the back of his neck, pulling him closer and giving him a gentle kiss.

He leaned forward, resting his hand on the side of your thigh and kissing you back, his lips hesitant on yours at first but when he felt your tongue swipe his bottom lip, his hand moved to your shoulder and gently squeezed as he opened his mouth, tongue darting out to find yours. He moaned softly at your taste, his breath coming out in small hot puffs that fanned your upper lip as you explored his mouth with your tongue. His hand that was on the desk gently moved to your hip, giving a tentative squeeze. You grabbed it, bringing it to your breast and with your hand over his, guiding him to squeeze and massage it.

He let out a little hum of realization and did as you asked, only able to do so much with a t-shirt bra and work shirt, he with trembling hands tugged at the bottom of your navy blue The Beef t-shirt, asking for permission to take it off. You pulled away, swiftly taking off the shirt and reconnecting your lips with his. Your hands made your way behind your back, unhooking your bra and pulling it off, bringing both of his hands to your breasts. You whine softly as he pinches and rolls your nipples between his fingers, the action making them even harder and perkier. He kissed down your jaw, nipping gently and sucking on the sensitive skin.

Richie can’t know this happened

“N-no marks babe- kay?” you said a bit breathlessly, hand trailing up to gently tug at his hair. He hummed in response, kissing down and mouthing over the hickeys Richie had left earlier in the week. You bit your lip as he continued to roll and tug your nipples kissing down your neck and when he finally got to your breasts you heard him mutter

“So fuckin perfect” before he took one of your perky abused nipples into his mouth, lightly sucking as you combed through his curls, taking out all the knots with your nimble fingers. With his other hand, he continued to massage your other breast, causing a moan to fall from your lips.

“You wanna fuck me? Mm? Right here over the desk? You can go as hard as you want yea?” you told him, it was nice that he was spending so much time dedicated to making you feel good, but were confused why he hadn’t just…bent you over and gotten it over with by now like Richie usually did when you fucked at work.

He pulled off with a pop, looking up at you with those wide eyes that had been darkened with lust. “Uh- Can I taste you..instead?” he asked shyly, resting his chin on your sternum gently, his hot breath puffing from his nose and tickling your chest. You raised your brows, looking at the clock - wasn’t he exhausted?! If he ate you out, that would be what - another 15 minutes on top of him getting off, would probably be another 20, so you both wouldn’t be getting out of there until 1:30 or so.

Well, if it's what he wants.

“Sure honey” You got up, slipping out of the sweats you took the train home in usually, setting them on the desk to sit on and pushing your panties down as well after kicking off your Ugg slipper shoe-type things and sitting back on the desk, spreading your thighs for him and resting one of your heels on the edge. His mouth parted slightly, nearly dropping to his knees, his curls falling in front of his eyes but he didn’t seem to care as he kissed your inner thighs, almost enjoying his time getting you worked up. He gently sucked on your nether lip, groaning lightly at your flavor. Your mouth drops as you watch him, fully blissed out as he laps at your wet folds.

“Holy shit Carmy” you breathe, gently pushing his bangs back so you could see his pretty blue eyes once again. He looks up at you, sandy brown long lashes nearly touching his bushy brows as he connects his mouth with your clit, flicking his tongue over it and running his jaw back and forth messily, a mix of drool and your arousal running over his chin. “Wow feels so good - doin’ so good Carmy” you breathe, head falling back in pleasure and breathing picking up. He was really good at this. When Richie was in the mood (AKA his back wasn't hurting, or his knees, or his shoulder) he would give you the pleasure of eating you out, and he did it well, he always made sure you came when he did it, and you never had to fake it with him.

You weren’t going to have to fake it with Carmy, either, because holy shit - he was amazing at this. You felt that familiar tightening within’ your stomach within minutes. He took one of your thighs, throwing it over his shoulder to give himself a better angle, and ran his tongue down, slipping it inside of your pussy and moaning as you gush over his tongue when his nose runs back and forth over your clit, stimulating it most deliciously. Your thigh twitched, toes curling, and a sharp moan comes from your throat, biting down roughly on your lip. “God- god Carmy, I’m cumming” you warn, Gripping his curls rougher which seemed to edge him on, rubbing you rougher with his nose and curling his tongue up against your gummy walls, wet lewd noises coming from between your thighs.

Within moments there was a fire of pleasure shooting beneath your skin as you cried out in ecstasy. Your eyes rolled beneath your lids, letting go of his hair and gripping the desk instead with a crushing grip as he worked you through the intense waves of overstimulating delight that ripped through you relentlessly. He finished with a chaste kiss on your thigh before grabbing your bra and helping you put it on as well as your panties, even finding the shirt you’d thrown and shaking off the dust from the floor before handing it over. “That was uh…really good, thank you” he wiped his chin and lips with the back of his hand, rubbing it on the back of his jeans. You shamelessly stared at his crotch and noticed the hard bulge in his jeans before looking back up at him.

“You don’t want to get rid of that? I can suck you off if you want I have a hair tie” you said, holding up your wrist to show him. He shook his head, running a hand through his hair.

“No- no you don’t owe me anything, I got what I needed don’worry. See y’tomorrow- make sure you leave through the back I already locked up the front” he said, leaving the office and closing the door behind him to give you some privacy. You sat in shock for a moment, blinking a few times. All he wanted from you was to eat you out? You’d never met another guy who simply ate you out and that was it - they’d always…expected something from you after, and of course, you gave it because you felt like they’d paid you a favor just by eating you out first even if you didn’t finish. You slip your work shirt back on, get up, and put on your sweats with shaky legs before slipping your shoes back on.

It continued like this, the days you weren't fucking Richie, you were in the back office getting eaten until you nearly passed out. Until The Beef started getting renovated, then the days you weren’t getting your brains fucked out in Richie's bed, your thighs spread wide at odd hours of the morning on Carmens’ couch, some random cooking show playing in the background as he lapped at your pussy like a man starved on his knees in front of you after kissing down your body like you were a goddess to be worshipped. If you were quite honest, you liked this routine. It felt perfect for you, you knew where your feelings lay for both of the men, and it was a stable comfortable routine on both sides.

For Richie, it was fun and flirtatious. Sneaky spanks when you came to visit and help him renovate the restaurant with Neil, rough makeout sessions in the back alley when he went out for a smoke, rough near bruising quickies in the soon-to-be walk-in freezer that hadn’t been set up yet, so it was a nice little private area you two could go. He’d even started stealing a kiss or two when you weren’t being sexual. He was protective of you, Carmy started noticing this. That was why a few weeks before the big opening, he had started being a bit more handsy with you.

The two of you started spending a lot more time together, and you realized he was even opening up to you a bit more. He began asking to see you more often, taking you out with him when he had to run errands for the opening. When he took you with him to the restaurant supply store, he had his hand rested on your lower back, gently rubbing circles as he explained to you the difference between the bunch of different kinds of cutlery. You had been baffled that there were 11 different kinds of butter knives there and he explained to you the difference between them, as well as showed you which sets went together.

It was strange you were clenching your thighs together while a man chatted you up over silverware, but the way he guided your hand to hold them so you were doing it ‘properly’ when you picked one up to get a closer look, had your heart jumping to your throat. That specific encounter was the first time you’d been able to really fuck him, and also draw some dominance out of him as well. It wasn't even his day with you, he knew it - he very well knew this, but little did you know that was the reason why he did it. You rode him hard and fast in the back of his van in the parking lot, he’d made sure to move to a spot in the way back where no one else had been parked so the two of you didn’t get caught and thrown on a registry, of course.

So, that night when you had met up with Richie after he had made you dinner and bent you over the couch for your usual Wednesday night activities - by the first yank of your hips you squeaked, “Gentle - please, daddy, not too rough..” you were glad he was taking you from behind, because you couldn’t bare the confused sweet sorry look on his face. You never asked him to be gentle with you, of course he obliged- because it was all an act. Richie was a big softie, a teddy bear. He just liked to fool around and put on the big mean daddy act in the bedroom because it was fun for the both of you.t in the bedroom because it was fun for the both of you. But he would never really want to hurt you.

“Wha’s wrong baby, mm? Why you hurtin’?” He held you up by your ribs, sweetly kissing your hairline as he thrusted slower and softer in and out of you, gently resting his lips against your forehead “was I too hard Monday? M’sorry my sweet girl” he rubbed over your breast gently as he continued his gentler strokes. His sweet girl. That caused your heart to sting a bit. You didn’t know that he liked you too, the same way you liked him. Unless it was just an act? You hope it was an act.

“Yeah” you said, knees going weaker when he reached around your front and toyed with your clit, your hips bucking at the soreness Carmen had left you with earlier.

“Yeah? Y’never been like this before sweetheart” he kissed over your neck, beard scratching at your skin.

“Mm- s’okay- feels good- like it when it hurts like this” you rest your head back on his shoulder, closing your eyes and feeling a pit of guilt setting in your stomach. Would it hurt him if he found out you had started fooling around with Carmy? You hoped not, but couldn’t help but wonder. They were family. Most of all you would hope it wouldn’t make him insecure due to the much closer proximity Carmy and your ages were. You were so lost in your own head that you didn’t even realize he was finishing inside of you like normal moaning into your hair.

“So good- such a good girl” he kissed your head. “go get cleaned up kid, gotta get outta here early t’day cus’ I needa go to Eva’s school play thing” he pats your ass gently and pulled out, leaving you draped over the arm of the couch naked from the waist down and cum leaking down your thighs. You shut your eyes for a moment, rubbing over your face before standing up and doing as he said.

A little over a week later, Carmy asked you to go straight with him. Well. Not really, he asked you if you were fucking other people to which you gave a simple yes and he just said ‘oh…wish I could be the only one’ you teased him and asked if that meant you wanted to be together, just the two of you and he said yes. So, you stopped fucking Richie. You stopped letting him kiss you in dry storage - you stopped having your ass be available for slapping as he walked by.

And man, was it hard. He looked like a sad puppy, a small pout coming to his lips when you turned your cheek causing him to kiss that instead of your lips. “ ‘ey-“ he turned your face towards him “where’s my kiss?” You just looked down at the floor, before turning and grabbing the bag of onions you’d been sent in there to get and saying

“I don’t think we should keep doing this. We should…just work together.” As much as you hated to say it, you did. Then you left the dry storage, and Richie felt his heart crack slightly. Things with him felt way more real then with Carmy, but Carmy was the one who asked you to be his, so you just…went with who asked. You had thought that was the best choice. Even though you stomped on his heart that day, he still cracked jokes with you, and was the same sweet dork you worked with before you started hooking up, the sweet dork that made you want to hook up with him in the first place.

2 days before the friends and family opening, Carmy invited you over to his so he could cook for you. You’d been able to have his cooking once before, when he’d had you come over right in front of Richie at The Beef, and held a spoon to your lips, a hand under your chin for you to try something he’d come up with. Tonight he was making his familys pasta, and when you’d got there you nearly jumped his bones when he was wearing a work shirt from The Beef. You’d never seen him in it before, he’d never worn it to work even though everyone else had to be wearing theirs.

You had a joke with yourself that he knew how yummy and slutty he looked in those stupid plain white t’s so thats why he kept wearing them.

“Hey sexy” You’d said when he opened the door, standing on your toes to kiss him deeply. He hummed, pulling you inside quickly and shutting the door behind you both so no neighbors would see. He grabbed your ass with his palms, squeezing it and spanking you lightly.

“Hey pretty girl” he said, kissing your top lip messily “y’hungry, right? Dinners almost done” he carefully brushed your hair from your face, looking down into your eyes with one of his sweet smiles.

“Mm always hungry for the best chef in the worlds food” you mused, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck and playing with his curls “Why’d you never wear this at work, mm? Y’look sexy babe” you kissed his neck. He hummed, hands trailing up your back and palming over your ribs.

“Cause they’re itchy, and it’s laundry day” he said as you rubbed over his chest, grabbing at his pecks and squeezing at the flesh. He chuckled, brushing your hands “jesus someones handsy eh? He cupped your cheeks, angling your eyes towards him “food’ll burn, go wash up yeah? I’ll get y’plate ready” he pecked your lips and ran his hands down your front, grabbing your hand nd pressing it to his lips before heading back to the kitchen.

You followed as he said, going to the restroom and washing your hands as well as your makeup off with the makeup wipes that lived in his bathroom for you now, before going to his bedroom. You stepped out of your stupid waitress uniform, slipping on his white shirt that kissed just below your bum. You padded out to the kitchen, seeing him wiping the edge of your plates off with a paper towel, a kitchen rag over his shoulder. God, he looked so amazing in his element. “Hey” you said gently, going to hug him from behind

“Hey sweet girl, just about done” he sprinkled some fresh parsley over the dish masterfully, before gently rubbing over the back of your hand and bringing it to his lips, kissing it. “How was the train?” he asked and you pulled away, walking over to his couch and sitting since he’d never bothered to get a kitchen table.

“Okay, weirdo was playing a ukelele again” you plopped down, crossing your legs and looking over at the random dutch cooking program he had been watching from his station in the kitchen, “You speak dutch?” you asked, he chuckled and you weren’t sure at which statement.

“No, I don’t, I just watch, and I know what they’re doin’ by the look usually.” he came over, setting a beautiful plate of pasta in your lap and sitting down with the small pot he used for sauce, that he’d mixed the noodles in half hazardly and twirled some of the noodles on the fork, taking a bite.

Classic Carmy, serving you a Michelin Starred dish, and eating the leftover scraps.

That was the night you really fell for him. Especially after he did the same thing that he did the first time the two of you hooked up, put you first. Even if he didn’t want you to touch him, even if he was too shy to cuddle you before you fell asleep. You really felt your heart crack open for him.

The night of friends and family, though, you may as well have been a stranger. No matter what you did that night to get his attention, he fully ignored you and snapped at you, and everyone, to ‘pick up your fucking pace’. You had never had him snap at you like this. All you wanted to do was go joke around with Richie, maybe pull him into the dry storage for a quick makeout - but you couldn’t, not anymore. You missed him. You missed your old man, as much as he despised you calling him that, you adored the way he frowned and spanked you in response to the name, telling you ‘it’s already unfair when we go out they think y’my daughter’

When you had find out that Carmy had been locked in the freezer - your first instict was to rush to the back of house, comfort him- tell him it would all be fine, but you knew you couldn’t do that, and it would piss him off if you did so. You were his well kept secret, and he wanted you to stay that way. You had found out from Syd, who was really the only one to know about your short-lived relationship - since Carmy seemed to be more open with her then he did with you - his supposed girlfriend.

“He’s ok, he’s fine- look, just keep pace, ok, me and Richie will handle this - bring the plates from tinas station to table 11, ok?” she told you calmly, giving you a quick reassuring hug before whisking you off to do your job. You did as she said, putting on a smile and bringing the food out to the table, setting it down the way you’d been trained and telling them what was what before telling them to enjoy and heading back to the kitchen to pick up another round of food to bring out to an awaiting hungry group of patrons.

Three hours later, when the night was finally coming to a close- you decided it was a good time to go check on Carmy. All the guests had left, and it was just the staff at this point. You knew that the fire department was on the way since Richie had let everyone know they’d been called, and Syd was back there trying to calm him down. What you didn’t know, was Syd had told Carmy to hold on for a moment because she was gonna go tell her father goodbye and thank him for coming, so he had been left all alone in the back of house, in the freezer.

You walked in, hearing him rambling as you walk up, listening closely to what he was saying.

“Like- Like right? Right?” he chuckled a bit “W-what the fuck was I thinkin’? Huh? The fuck was I thinkin’, Syd? Like - Like I was gonna be in- “ he laughed a bit “In- i-in a relationship- er- er some shit? I-I’m a fuckin- a fuckin psycho- thats thats why, thats why I’m good at what I do, thats how I operate, Syd, you wanna be the best? I am the fucking best, because I didn’t have- any- any of this - this fuckin…bullshit! Right? I-I- I could focus, and I could concentrate, and I- I had a fuckin’ routine, an- and I had fuckin cell reception! An-” he paused. You felt your heart crack, tears filling your eyes,

You were bullshit to him.

He continued, “I dont need to provide amusement or enjoyment. I dont need to- to receive, any amusement- or - or enjoyment. Y’know? And I’m…I’m completely fine, with that. Because absolutely no amount of good, is worth how fuckin’ shitty this feels. S’just…a complete waste of my fucking time.”

You let out the sob you were holding back, gasping a breath, shaking your head and with a trembling voice, you say, “I’m really sorry you feel this way, Carmy…” before rushing out of the kitchen, hot tears running down your cheeks. You grab your bag from behind the counter, slamming into richie on the way out of the restaurant and he stopped you, grabbing your arm.

“Hey- hey kid” he said, and the soothing sound of his voice made you break down fully, starting to sob so hard you couldnt see straight, collapsing into his chest.

“I’m sorry- I’m so sorry for being so shitty- I- I dont deserve you” you cried, hugging him tightly, “I have-” you took a gasping breath and look up at him “I- i’m done- tell Carmy that I’m done here….” you let go of him and rush out, quickly walking towards the train station the wind whipping your wet cheeks. You pulled out your phone, calling Carmy to leave him a voicemail.

“Hey, uh…I don’t know why you fuckin’ asked me out- but uh- fuck you, carmy. Youre right- you deserve nothing- youre a coward, and an asshole. I hate you for making me love you” you hung up, shoving your phone in your pocket, not even caring the admission that slipped past your lips as you stomped up the stairs to the L platform.

Back at the restaurant, Richie storms into the kitchen, slamming his palm on the freezer door. “Yo- the fuck did you just do?” he asked, voice laced with anger.

“I-I don’know. I-I don’ know what the fuck she heard. Dunno” Carmy said, voice indifferent to the entire thing, which just made anger bubble in his chest at his lack of caring. Richie slams his hand into the door harder, making Carmy jump a bit.

“No- asshole, I said - the fuck did you just say, to that fuckin’ girl?” Richie repeated, getting louder now.

“Richie” Carmy said, sighing to himself.

“Richie? Richie What- Tell me! Tell me, What the fuck. What the fuck did you just say to that fuckin girl, Carmen”

“Will you just shut the FUCK UP AND GET ME THE FUCK OUT OF HERE PLEASE!” Carmy shouts, not having any part of being scolded when his fingertips felt like ice.

“Oh- oh yeah, I’ll get y’the fuck outta there, Donna” Richie mocked, so angry he didnt care how deeply he cut in the moment.

“The fuck you just say t’me?” Carmy challanged

“I-” Richie sighed, knowing he just took things too far and dropped his head back in annoyance.

“N-no- Richie- What the fuck did you just say?” Carmy asks, louder this time, Pounding on the door when he didnt get a response.

“Yo- cousin, cousin look - I don’t know why you gotta fuck up everything good in your life. That girl is nice, shes a good fuckin friend t’you” Richie explained, completely oblivious to everything that had really been going on.

“Are you -” Carmen laughs “Are you fucking kidding me right now?!” he spits, the comparison to his mother causing fire to race through his veins.

“No- No i’m not, cousin, someones gotta tell you this shit, ‘eh? First fuckin friend after comin’ home you go ahead and make her cry?!” Richie scolded.

“FUCK YOU! Fuck you Richie!” Carmy yells, running his hands through his hair,

“Ohhh yea, here we go, fuck me, yeeeaaa Carm” he mocked him.

“Yeah! Yeah fuck you fuckin loser. You wouldn’t have shit without me. So fuck you!” carmy shouted at him, his breath coming out in large frosty puffs in front of him.

“Oh-” Richie chuckled, a twinge in his chest that Carmy was willing to cut so deep so quickly “Yeah- yeah tough guy” he mocked, voice getting meeker

“Yeah! Yeah! You- Or y’fuckin kid- fuckin loser - only reason you have anything is me!” Carmy roars, slamming on the door “so ye’ cousin, fuck you!”

“My KID? Y’gonna talk about my KID? Well at least I have a fuckin kid! What d’you have other then a restaurant, jackass!” he yelled back.

“YEAH? I HAVE THE GIRL YOU BEEN FUCKIN’ FOR THE PAST YEAR, MORON. Why you think she dropped you so fast? Huh? You fucking idiot! She chose me- so ye’. I am the reason you have what you have AND I’LL TAKE WHATEVER I FUCKING WANT. FUCK YOU” He yelled through the door, kicking it with his chefs clog.

Richies mouth dropped, stepping back and feeling as if he’d just been stabbed in the heart. “What?” he said, believing his ears were playing tricks on him, how could Carmy do such a thing to him?

“Yeah- yeah. She chose me, and guess what, I fucked her because i wanted to show you I could. Y’fuckin prick” he sat down on one of the boxes of frozen steaks, rubbing over his face roughly. Richie raced out of the kitchen, telling Syd he was ‘done’ and quickly taking out his phone to call you.

Back in the freezer, Carmens phone buzzed. He looked at it, seeing a voicemail from you that finally pushed through. When he heard your sad, broken voice, admit that he’d caused you to hate him by his behaviour made him chuck his phone against the freezer wall so hard that the screen shattered.

Never so badly had he ever fucked up, and by doing so he lost the best thing to ever happen to him.

124 notes · View notes

roimp · 1 year

Text

ok i hate that I said all that

#now im like #but that is what you do at this age you go out extravaganza and you explore around with your friends #but like see i think it would be more fun if we were not so much focused on the 'taking aesthetic pics for insta'#like #my brain is not braining idk what im thinking #also i just really think that my parents will not allow like i dont even wanna try znd ask i know they will say no #they dont really say no to me but this time i know they are gonnaa #and thats why i dont wanna do a big thing i just wanna do a small thibg #maybe ill just tell them that my parents didnt allow to go so far away #but im not gonna ask i cannot do that lol #anyways. maybe i really should get on that 'tell them to come to my home' thing yk that can work #and my parents (i think) wouldny have a problem with that #ok bye.

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carolmunson · 9 months

Text

it's like sugar sometimes.

(older!modern!dad!eddie)

welcome back to the: orange colored sky setlist a/n: this can be read as a stand alone, give or take some references. but as a pre-cursor: you and eddie are about twelve years apart, meeting in late twenties early thirties, his late thirties early forties. you're deeply in love and we're fast forwarding a bit and now you have a kid. shout out to my nephew because without countless videos of him being the same age as the baby in this fic i would not now how babies baby. cw: pure fluff. pure dad eddie goodness. pretty tame. some mild arguing and swearing. some saucy kisses at the end. a new entry for the fall frenzy extravaganza. this fall frenzy is in honor of @jo-harrington who said i could do whatever, so here we are lmao.

songspiration: how sweet it is (to be loved by you) | james taylor

The ride to the orchard is going much better than you were expecting after such a rough morning. Tears from the moment Gwen came into your room just before four in the morning because she had a bad dream. Then it was too hot for her in bed with both of you, then she was too cold, then Ed’s snoring kept you both awake until she couldn’t keep her eyes open anymore. Then there was the kicking and stretching and rolling around. Aren’t they supposed to sleep like logs? She just turned three. Ed woke up refreshed, frowning when he turned over to see you sitting up against the headboard reading with puffy tired eyes. “Hey,” he says softly as to not wake Gwen who was curled up into his side, “She come in last night?” “Another bad dream,” you shrug, looking at him over your book, “I don’t know if she’s really having them or if she’s just starting to have a little regression period. Maybe we can get her a new night light or something.” “Why don’t you try to go back to sleep for a little and I’ll get her ready,” he asks, voice still raspy from sleep, “I’ll just take her into the shower with me.” You smile lazily at him and nod, looking over at the clock on his night stand – a little past six. Maybe an extra forty-five would do you some good before you went to the orchards upstate. Gwen’s eyes open up to her dad awake, her face contorting when she sees him. “Had a bad dweam,” she sniffles, reaching her arms out. “Poor Gwen, you had a bad dream?” Eddie coos, pulling her up out of bed with him, “Tell me all about it, angel.” Her babbles echo down the hall even after Ed closes the door behind them.

Piercing sobs woke you up instead of your alarm, though that went off right after to remind you that there’s a whole day you have to start. You rub your eyes and groan, sliding out of bed and stepping into your slippers. You grab your robe, shrugging it on as you leave the bedroom and wincing while another cry pours out of your toddler and goes straight to your chest. “I know, honey, I know,” you hear Eddie soothe, “But we’re gonna go do something so fun. You wanna go pick a pumpkin, right?” “No pumpki-i-in,” she sobs, deep and guttural. You open the door to her room slowly, a very teary Gwen stands in the corner, hair wet in a new set of pajamas. You look at Eddie, pulling out an outfit for her and laying it on her toddler bed. “What’s goin’ on, in here?” you ask gently. “Gwen doesn’t wanna get dressed to go apple picking,” Eddie says quietly, “She wants to watch Blue’s Clues.” “Wan’ see Bl-blue, mommy,” she sobs, “Pwease.” “Hey, hey,” you try your best to settle her, “Thank you for saying please, honey. We can still see Blue but daddy has to get you dressed first.” “Did she eat?” you ask, pulling Gwen up to your hip while she cries into your shoulder. “Yeah, she had some mini waffles and a banana,” he opens her closet and fishes out a tiny pair of Chuck’s to go with her outfit – a little black sweatshirt screen printed with the Halloween movie poster paired with a set of leggings meant to look like jeans. “Did you eat?” you smile, coming over to him to plant a kiss on the cheek. “Yeah, her leftovers,” he laughs, “There’s a cup of coffee waiting for you on the counter.” “Thank you,” you nudge him, feeling Gwen squirm and whine while she tries to shimmy down from your hip, “Okay, okay.” “Gwen, please,” Eddie begs with a twinge of frustration in his voice when she makes it to the door, on her tiptoes to reach the handle, “Let’s just get you dressed and you can watch Blue’s Clues while we do your hair.” She stomps, wet curls bouncing with her when she does, “Wanna watch now, pwease!” “Thank you for asking nicely Gwen, but that doesn’t always mean you get your way,” he explains. She shrieks, loud enough that your eyes squint, stomping again onto the fluffy white carpet below her, “I wanna watch Blue’s Cwue’s!” “Why don’t you take a deep breath for me, huh?” Eddie asks her, he pats your lower back on the way to the door. A silent way of letting you know to just go get yourself ready, he can handle the rest, “Do we need to take a time out?” “No time out,” she starts to cry again when you slip out of the room. More frustrated whines and wails boom down the hall, dissipating while you make it down the metal staircase to the coffee on the counter. Your heart swells when you notice that he already emptied and reloaded the dishwasher.

After you’ve packed some snacks for later and gotten yourself dressed, you make your way back upstairs. You approach the bathroom with your coffee in hand, Gwen’s sippy cup full of water in the other. Her bubbly squeals respond back to whoever is talking to her, barely looking up from Eddie’s phone to look at you when you open the door.

“Who’re you talking to, miss girl?” you ask, putting her sippy cup next to her on the bathroom counter. “Steeb,” she says, eyes glued to the screen, much happier than she was before. “She’s watching 90s Blue’s Clues?” you laugh at your husband who’s busy splitting her Gwen’s hair into a middle part, looking in the mirror that she’s sat in front of. “No, she’s FaceTiming with Steve,” he shakes his head, pulling one section back into a high pigtail. “Hi peach!” Steve’s voice rings from the phone, he lowers it back down to parentese to address Gwen, “Is that mommy? Can you say hi to her for me?” “Steeb say hi,” Gwen says, lifting the phone up, showing the screen to the ceiling of the bathroom. You take the phone for a second, seeing Steve’s annoyed face in the frame.

“You’re on thin ice,” he says, his fiancee’s laugh ringing out of frame, “I can’t believe you’re going this week when we’ll be there in two. You always go before we come to visit.” “There will be plenty of apple picking trips to do together when we move, I promise,” you assure, “She starts gymnastics and swimming next weekend, we won’t have another time to do it.”

“Gymnastics?” he asks, “Does she have tights? Leotards? What can I get her?”

“She has like, I don’t know Steve – forty leotards? She’s gonna grow out of half of them in six weeks,” you explain, “Don’t worry, your husband got it covered.” Eddie snickers, wrapping an elastic around one of the ponytails in his fingers. “Well if she’s gonna grow out of them then she’ll need more,” he scoffs, “I’ll get some sent over.”

“You’re impossible,” your eye roll is something Steve is just as used to as Eddie is. Gwen whines again, reaching for the phone with grabby hands, a quiet ‘Steeby’ escaping her. “I can hear her asking for me, gimme back to my girl,” he sighs. You hand the phone back to Gwen who giggles when Steve makes a funny face at her through the screen. “Look how pretty those ponytails are. Daddy did such a good job,” Steve coos at her. “We payin’ be-yoo-dee sawon,” Gwen explains. Eddie looks up at you, whispering ‘Can you grab her bows for me?’ You nod, reaching into the bottom drawer to snatch a basket full of bows, holding them out to him while he picks.

“Beauty salon,” Eddie corrects softly, “Orange or black bows?” “Bwack,” she says, waving him off like you do when you’re busy, “I’m on da phone, daddy.” “Yeah,” you say, meeting her sass, “She’s on the phone, daddy.”

He lets a ‘pfff’ push out of his lips while he grabs two black bows from last halloween, little sparkly spider webs parked in the center. You leave them to it, heading down to get the car packed up and make sure you have Gwen’s bag set up before you leave.

Despite the dramatics, the ride is going well. Gwen happily eats an apple sauce packet in her carseat while the two of you sip on coffees and eat breakfast sandwiches from a drive thru off the highway. It’s nice to get out of the city for a while and get Gwen used to the idea of not being in it anymore. The drive consists mostly of James Taylor’s greatest hits because Gwen is her Grandpa Wayne’s baby before she’s anyone else’s. She hums along to Carolina and sings only the chorus of Mexico. Her favorite song is Mockingbird even though it’s Carly Simon featuring James Taylor. The two of you throw it on the record player every other day to sing it to her, even if she doesn’t ask for it. It’s selfishly your favorite song, too, just ‘cause you get to see your husband play along with you. “And if that better way ain't so, I'll ride with the tide and go with the flow, And that's why, I keep on shoutin' in your ear, Saying (yeah, yeah) whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa, whoa-oh.” You lean your head back on the passenger’s side to make eye contact with Gwen through the visor mirror who giggles back at you. She mimics your ‘whoa-whoa-whoa’, shimmying in her carseat with her shoulders. Gwen’s no stranger to shimmying, always finding some way to dance off beat to Ed’s music when he plays at a venue she can be at or practices at home. His number one fan.

“Oh-wange twees, mommy,” Gwen says, tiny finger pointing out the window at the foliage lining the road. “I see them, aren’t they pretty Gwen?” you nod back at her. Eddie’s head turns slightly to watch her watch the trees, eyes shining at each change of color hits her. His heart beats a little quicker knowing she’s able to make those distinctions between orange, red, and yellow – too smart, getting too big. “Daddy’s git-tah,” she yelps, pointing hard at a tree covered in dark red leaves while Eddie slowly turns down the entrance of the orchard. Gwen lets out a tiny ‘woah’ when the car jostles that makes him laugh, he wishes she’d stay this little forever. “Yeah, that’s the same color as daddy’s guitar, good job sweetheart,” he smiles back at her, “Are you ready to pick some apples so we can make Uncle Stevie a pie for when he visits?” “Ya!” She nods, happy and excited. She doesn’t know what he said, but whenever he talks to her with a smile she’ll do whatever he asks and vice versa. Still ‘sort of rockstar’, definitely ‘meant to be father’. Parking is less of a nightmare than expected since it’s early in the day – most families come after the first morning nap, at least that’s what the mom groups told you on Facebook. Gwen hardly naps anymore, but you won’t be surprised if she knocks out earlier than usual tonight. Eddie gets the backpack full of Gwen’s essentials and you grab the baby. “I have to carry you through the parking lot, babe,” you say when she starts to bounce in your arms, eager to run on the grass in her sneakers. “Wanna walk, please,” she begs, her hands on your cheeks while you make your way towards the entrance. “You can walk when we get inside but there’s lots of cars out here and no stop lights,” you say, batting her hand out of your hair when she reaches for it, “I’ll put you down in a little bit.” “You think we should take the stroller?” Ed asks from the trunk. “They have wagons, we can just pull her around,” you shrug, “I don’t think the back up stroller is good for this kind of place, we’d need the one at home.” Eddie shrugs, joining you on your walk to the entrance to get your empty bag and your wagon, putting Gwen at the back as you get to the trees. “Walk, please,” she begs again. You hesitate, it’s just too big of a place and she’s a runner, “Honey, I would love it if you–” “Let her walk,” Eddie says, “She’ll get bored after a few minutes and wanna watch anyway, just let her walk.” “Come here Gwen, hold my hand,” he says, offering a tattooed hand to her pudgy one. She clumsily crawls out of the wagon, bouncing over to her dad to put her hand in his. He pulls her up once, making her squeal and giggle as she floats next to him. “More, more!” she laughs, letting Eddie swing her ahead a few more times while you all make your way through the trees.

She likes apple picking more than you expected, arms up constantly to be lifted onto the branches to grab some off of every few trees. Gwen had a good eye, better than you and Eddie, for super crisp ones – pointing up and jumping to get at them. If she was a little bigger you wouldn’t be surprised if she climbed up the trees with the ease of a jungle cat. Your husband encouraged it, climbing up the branches like he was still twenty – sitting with his legs dangling off and having you pass your toddler to him. “Please be careful,” you warn, passing her up to him. “Babe, I know what I’m doing,” he scowls, a hint annoyed before changing his expression for Gwen when he helps her onto the low branch with him. “You don’t have to be a jerk, I just want her to be safe,” you snap back. “And I’m keeping her safe,” he says with a smile as to keep your daughter none-the-wiser. Still looking at Gwen while she reaches for another apple. She hands it to Eddie who hands it to you, your fingers brush. “Sorry,” he says, looking down at you, “I’ll be careful. We’re not very high, but you’re right. I’ll be careful.” “Thank you,” you nod, taking the apple and pressing a ghost of a kiss to his knuckles. He blushes red, red, red. Red like the leaves, red like his guitar. “Why s’pink, daddy?” Gwen asks, passing him another apple. “I just love mommy very much, honey,” he smiles, pressing a kiss into her hair, “She makes me turn pink like a heart.” “Like on da phone,” she says, clinging to him like a koala when he slides down off the low branch with her. “Yes, like on the phone,” he nods. You’re not Peach 🍑 in his phone anymore. You’re The Wife 💗. Right now he’s Gwen’s Dad in your phone because you got in an argument two months ago and haven’t changed it back to Rockstar Husband 🎸❣️because ‘Gwen’s Dad’ makes you laugh too much. He hates it. “How you like them apples, G?” you ask when Eddie puts her down in the wagon, she looks up at you confused and shrugs; brown curly pigtails bouncing at she does. “Kids today,” you shake your head at Eddie while you press onward, “No culture.”

“No culture,” he agrees enthusiastically.

You peruse, the bags you bought are filled to the brim with apples. Some red, some green, a few yellow so Gwen can try them and see if she likes them. It’s a calming walk, the chatter of other families, the squeaky roll of the wagon, the rustle of the trees when the early autumn wind catches them. Eddie holds your hand loosely, always needing to keep touching you in some way, always wanting to keep you close to him. You look back, Gwen going between looking around at the other families and playing with her V-Tech phone. Eddie goes from walking slow to speeding up to make the wagon jostle just to hear Gwen’s giggles peal through the trees. After about an hour of walking and picking, you’re about as pooped as your toddler should be. Once you get to the tree line you see the farm and market down at the base of the hill, a little relieved that you’ve all made it to the end of the road unscathed.

That is, until Gwen climbs out of the wagon when it comes to a stop and without warning, books it towards the edge.

“Gwendolyn Rose!” Eddie’s call is rough and loud out of fear, but it sounds like anger. Gwen stops short, startled, falling backwards onto the seat of her leggings. Like clockwork the first whine starts, building up into a needy, sad wail. You know they’re crocodile tears so you keep your pace with the wagon behind you. Your husband however, despite the constant reminder that she knows he’s easy, rushes forward without a second thought. “Oh no, my baby girl, shh, shh. I’m sorry,” he coos, reaching down to hoist her up onto his hip, “I didn’t mean to yell, sugar. You just got daddy scared is all. I’m not mad.” Gwen wipes her face, pushing away tears that never fell, sniffling and hiding her face in his neck. He rubs her back while she settles, guilt tugging on the lines between his brows.

“No baby girl,” Gwen pouts, “I’m big girl.”

“Oh that’s right, you’re my big girl,” Eddie grins, kissing her cheek. She’s not amused, frowning down at him while she pushes up against his shoulder to squirm out of his hold. “That’s a very grumpy face, Gwenny,” you giggle. “Hey, are you mad at me?” he asks up at her before popping her back down onto her feet at the edge of the tree line, “Why’re you lookin’ so mad?”

“I’m big,” she announces, little foot stomping on the grass below her. Eddie lets a sigh out through his nose and kneels down to her level. She takes several deep breaths and you both know it’s the beginning of what could be a very long second tantrum of the day. “I know, you’re a very big girl,” he nods, “But what do mommy and daddy say you have to do when we don’t have you in the stroller?” “Hode hands,” she repeats back in a whine. “That’s right, we hold hands – and if we’re not holding your hand you’re supposed to stay close, right?” He watches her nod, tucking a finger under her chin to make sure she’s absorbing what he’s saying. Her lower lip juts out, cheeks puffing while her shoulders sulk. “I walk by - by mysewf,” she urges, sniffling, “Pwease.” “Not today, sugar. I’m sorry,” he sighs, cupping her cheek in his palm, “I have a fun idea, do you wanna get on daddy’s shoulders and you can tell us how far we are from the farm?” She brightens up a little, giggling when he reaches down to tickle her sides before scooping her up to lift over his shoulders. He groans the way old men groan when they lift something and you stifle a laugh, smiling up at Gwen when she smiles down at you. “Hi mommy,” she beams, waving her tiny hand. “Hi baby,” wave back lazily, the shoddy sleep you had last night starting to settle into your eyes. “Do you see the farm, Gwenny?” Eddie asks, she nods enthusiastically, “Maybe we can go get you a donut, how does that sound? Will that make you happy?”

“Ed,” you click your tongue, “She’s never gonna get to sleep later.” “We’re making memories, babe,” Eddie says, reaching up to hold Gwen’s hands to keep her steady, “Some extra sugar won’t hurt her.”

“Yeah, you love extra sugar, don’t you?” you laugh.

“Matter of fact, I do,” he smirks, shooting you a wink. He laughs when he sees two of those twelve foot Home Depot skeletons posed outside the front of the market, promoting their haunted hayride with signs and other silly decor, “Shit, that’s fuckin’ metal – s’ridiculous.”

“S’dic-yoo-liss,” Gwen repeats. “S’ridiculous, Gwennifer!” Eddie repeats back in concurrence. “Sss’tick-you-luss,” she bounces, laughing when he laughs. They have the same one, though his has years on hers, gruff with age, with cigarette stains.

Pumpkins get picked, warm donuts devoured, the morning finally feels like it’s coming to a close. You park Gwen down at a picnic table while Eddie goes to get the goods, hanging out with your threenager who can barely keep her eyes open. You’re thankful you still have the wagon because there was no way you’d be able to carry all of it back to the car. Caramel apples, cider donuts, three gallons of apple cider, honey sticks, pumpkin pie, and anything else Eddie thought was good enough to bring home for the season weight heavy in the brown paper bags in his arms. He comes back sheepishly, biting his lower lip when you look at the bags and then at him.

“Hm,” you hum pointedly.

“I just really like fall flavors, peach,” he shrugs, “And the old lady at the front was so sweet telling me about the deals I couldn’t not get everything.” “You’re such a sucker,” you laugh with a roll of your eyes, “You ready to head out?” He nods, ticking his forehead at Gwen whose cheek is smushed against your chest, eyelashes brushing the tops of her cheeks, “Looks like this pumpkin’s ready to go.”

“She’s out,” you say softly, brushing her hair away from her face, “Lasted five minutes on my lap.”

“Let me get a picture to send to Steve,” he says low enough that it doesn’t wake her, “The background is perfect.” “Ed you have a thousand pictures of her from today,” you complain. “Shh, shh, come on,” he smiles, taking out his phone – you know he’s only snapping Gwen by the way he lowers the camera to your lap. He puts the bags in the wagon while you slowly stand with her wrapped around your front. You wait at the entrance for him to pull the car around, leaving the wagon behind. She doesn’t wake up when you pop her back in the car seat, slowly rolling out of the parking lot with the rest of the afternoon in your wake.

“I got her a little gourd painting kit, somewhere in those bags,” he says, “She can make some decorations.” “Oh she’ll love that,” you nod, peeking at her sleeping face in the visor mirror again, “I’ll do it with her before dinner.”

He pulls in slowly at a stop sign, hand reaching out to snake into yours, pulling it to his lips to bless you with soft kisses on the back of your hand.

“Thanks for such a good day, baby,” he murmurs.

“You’re very welcome.”

Later on, just before dinner, Eddie hears a tiny knock on his office door paired with two giggles from his favorite girls.

“Yes?” he calls out. The door creeps open and he hears you whisper, ‘Ask ‘Are you busy, daddy?’

“You busy, daddy?” Gwen pipes up. He shuts his computer, moving away from the two additional screens. “No, honey, never too busy for you,” he smiles, creases by his eyes showing up through his glasses, “Do you have something to show me?”

“Yeah,” she nods, pulling on your hand to pull you into the room. He uses the same candles he always has, deep spice, like his cologne. Warm like the way he holds you. Still in his hunter green Dickie’s overalls from this morning.

You give Gwen her little pumpkin that she painted to present to her dad, beaming with excitement while he looks it over.

“Such a good job, Gwenny,” he coos, “Are these –”

“I did bats,” she grins, finger touching the sparkly black sort of bats adorning the outside. Covered in glitter and sequins, falling onto his office floor.

“You did bats? For Halloween?” he asks. You shake your head no, smiling big when Gwen goes on to explain.

“No cause, daddy, cause you have bats,” she hurriedly explains, “Issa daddy pum-kin.” She reaches to his left arm, pointing at the bat tattoos on the inside when he was a kid. She runs her finger over them, “See, bats like daddy.”

“That’s so sweet, honey,” he coos, “Is it for me?” “Yeah,” she squeaks, “For here.” “For your office,” you say for her, trying not to giggle when his eyes shine with tears. She could give him a piece of trash and he’d cry over it, “‘Cause you have so many Halloween decorations in here.” He laughs, looking around at all the tour posters he has from bands he’s seen over the years – to a three year old they probably are a little scary. “And what did you say it was when you were done, Gwen?” you ask, “What did you say daddy would think the pumpkin was?” “Fucking med-oh,” she giggles. “Oh my god,” he sighs, thumb and forefinger immediately going to temples. “Fucking metal,” you repeat back him, knowingly, “Wonder where she got that.”

He tries not to laugh when he looks down at Gwen, “Don’t say that word, baby, that’s a bad word.” “Sowwy,” she whispers. “It’s okay, you didn’t know,” he grins, pulling her in to kiss her all over. She shrieks the way babies shriek when they’re excited and runs out of the office toward her bedroom at the end of the hall. You turn to go after her before feeling Eddie’s hand on your shoulder. “Hey,” he says quietly in your ear, you shiver, “Remember when you said I like a little extra sugar?”

Your cheeks burn hot, turning to him, “I do.” He leans in slow, lips capturing yours in a way that they only do when you both get to be alone, “Don’t forget to keep givin’ me some.” “I won’t,” you murmur back, letting him kiss you deeply one more time before pressing a slow kiss to your favorite place under the hinge of your jaw, “You’re bold, Munson.” He shrugs, breaking away, “Needed somethin’ sweet.”

As if he isn't sweet enough. Eddie spends the rest of the night looking up ways to preserve a painted gourd.

masterlist | fall frenzy | ko-fi

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #dad!eddie #dad!eddie munson #older!eddie #older!eddie munson #modern!eddie munson #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader fluff

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king-bumis-armpit · 1 month

Text

The Wedding Weaver

Written for Maiko Week 2024 - Wedding

Summary:

The master matchmaker and self-proclaimed Wedding Weaver is going to be in Ba Sing Se for the first annual Peace Extravaganza hosted by Avatar Aang. Inspired by his message of love and unity, she will be offering a discount on her services for the week of the festival! Find your peace and harmony with your perfect other half…

Mai and Zuko are brought together by forces beyond their control.

Author's Note:

This is admittedly a big stretch of the prompt. After I wrote this, I saw that “matchmaker” was actually a prompt back in 2022! I didn’t have the desire to write back then, but I’m a long time reader of Maiko fics. If you’ve written one, I have probably read it multiple times and I love you <3 That being said, this is my first foray into writing so please be kind ^^

Also, I should mention this is probably not an accurate portrayal of matchmakers and it is certainly not meant to be a representation of any cultures that have historically utilized matchmaking. It’s just a silly idea I had and I wanted to write.

The Wedding Weaver

Mai looked at the paper with disdain. “Why exactly are you showing me this, Mother?”

Michi sternly met her daughter’s gaze. “You have been moping about this house for far too long. I was engaged by the time I was your age!”

“Look how well that turned out.”

“Young lady!” Michi seemed to be about to launch into a tirade, but for some reason she held back and sighed. “You know we are traveling into the city for the festival. I thought perhaps it would give you something to do, since you are always bored.”

Mai’s Aunt Mura landed a very lucrative business deal with a guild of artisans. She would be providing florals and arranging the decorations for their stalls during the festival. Merchants from all over the Fire Nation, and doubtless the Earth Kingdom and Water Tribes as well, were traveling to Ba Sing Se for the event. The set up process would be intense and Mai and Michi both were planning to help. But once the festival was underway, the two of them could step back and enjoy a peaceful vacation. Mai was planning on taking Tom Tom to the zoo that Aang helped build, buying Earth Kingdom daggers, and getting a cup of tea at the Jasmine Dragon (at a time when she knew Zuko would be in a meeting of course). Meeting with a Matchmaker and possibly having to entertain a stranger was not on the top of her to do list.

“No thank you.” Mai replied curtly.

Michi sighed, “I was afraid you'd say that, but it's too late. Your aunt and I already signed you up.”

Mai expected this kind of treachery from her mother, but not her aunt. “What on earth were you thinking? Why would auntie do that to me?”

“I was thinking that you needed to get out of the house. And Mura agrees. You’ve been more despondent than normal. All we want for you, Mai, is to be happy.”

Mai shook her head. She could probably get out of it if she really wanted to, but when her mother put it that way it sounded depressing. Maybe she should give it a try. What's the worst that could happen?

— —

“Is that all for the agenda?” Zuko was in a hurry to get out of there. His combined meetings with the Fire Sages and his Royal Advisors always seemed to drag on. It felt like they were all ganging up against him. No wonder all of his ancestors were so cranky.

“Actually my Lord, there is one more item we wish to address with you. As you well know, there have been two assassination attempts on your life in the past four months. Furthermore, you are in the precarious position of lacking in heir,” an elder Fire Sage began.

Zuko did not like the sound of this. “What of it?”

“Well your majesty,” one of his advisors continued, “we were hoping that you might start to make some progress in that department.”

“Surely you're not suggesting that I go out and have a child tonight.”

“Not at all. Not at all. But perhaps you could enter another courtship?” the Advisor replied.

Zuko stiffened. He knew that he shouldn't still be so hung up on her. It’s been months since our breakup, and she has a boyfriend. Kei Lo. May he suffer the torment of Agni’s eternal flame.

Oh Mai. She’s so beautiful, and lethal, and witty, and she’s always bored but never boring.

“My Lord?” The spell was broken.

“How about I name Kiyi my successor and we all call it a day?”

“That is a… fair enough solution in case of an emergency. But consider what the burden would be like for her if she were to ascend. A significant number of the people are struggling to accept you as they're rightful ruler, but she does not even have Royal blood. What do you think would be her reception?” Shiu- the Great Sage- prodded him gently.

Zuko bit his lip. He hadn't thought of that. “I don't know what you want me to do. Being the head of state doesn't give me much free time to go around meeting young women.”

“We believe we have a solution,” The advisor who spoke passed him a paper. It appeared to be an advertisement of some sort.

“You want me to see a matchmaker?”

— —

Mai hated to admit it, but she was nervous. After the festivities had begun, the vendors assured Mura that they didn't need any additional help for the day. Consequently, Mai had nothing to do while waiting for her appointment with the Wedding Weaver except imagine worst case scenarios. What if she asks me a bunch of weird personal questions? What if she tries to set me up with a creepy old guy? What if her office is all pink and lovey-dovey?

In reality, the Weaver’s office was relatively large and open. The walls were green, and the furniture seemed to all be locally made. At the back of the room privacy screens prevented her from seeing the countless filing cabinets of her clients’ information. In the center of the room was a large desk, but instead of thin wooden chairs, on either side there were great comfy recliners. Mai sat in one, the matchmaker the other. Mai's mother, Aunt, and little brother had all accompanied her and sat on a couch behind her. Against the wall was a large standing loom, with a project clearly in-progress. It seemed the Weaver had chosen that moniker for a reason.

The Wedding Weaver herself was a petite woman. Her snowy hair was held in a tight chignon and her eyes sparkled with something that Mai didn’t entirely trust. “Don't be nervous dear,” the Weaver said while pouring some tea. She passed Mai a cup which she accepted gratefully. “Now, tell me about your ideal husband.”

“Umm… That’s a bit broad, don't you think?”

The older woman laughed. “Let me help you out. Do you have a preference for if he's Fire Nation or not? Do you want him to be a bender? Do you have occupational preferences? What values do you most look for in a partner?”

Surprisingly, Tom Tom spoke up first. “He has to live nearby. Mai can't move away.” The boy toddled from the couch and up into his sister’s lap. She accepted him without question. The pout on his face was very convincing, but even if it wasn't, Mai agreed. Best to limit the results to her own country. What if she actually liked the guy?

“Yes. Fire Nation. I don't really care if he's a bender. But if you do choose a bender, I want him to have conventional weapons training as well.”

The matchmaker raised her eyebrows. “Do you get into a lot of fights?”

Mai smirked. “Not so much anymore. But a lot of benders can be sort of pretentious to non-benders like myself. I'm trained with knives, you see.” Mai pulled one from her sleeve to prove her point, as Tom Tom looked on in awe. That was something she loved about Zuko. He thought her deadly precision was just as magical as making fire appear. They would train together for hours, each taking turns to watch the other in admiration and desire… Mai mentally kicked herself. This was NOT about him. It was about her.

Her mother spoke next. “Mai comes from a noble lineage. We would prefer someone with a title or a respectable job in the service of the Fire Nation.” The Weaver noted that Mai shifted uncomfortably at this. Curious, she thought. Perhaps the girl is self-conscious around higher nobility. The Weaver dismissed it as a non-issue. She is dignified and reserved, she would fit right in.

The matchmaker smiled. “Yes of course. Many such men are in town for the festival, and quite a few have booked with me. That shouldn't be so hard.” She thought about her next appointment with anticipation. That woman has no idea how impressive my clients are.

Mai spoke once again. “When it comes to values, I don't know how to classify this but I want someone who treats me like an equal. Someone who is trustworthy and is willing to share their heaviest burdens with me.”

She blushed at this confession, but the matchmaker did not know why. Surely anyone would want such a dedicated girlfriend?

“What about physicality? Any preferences with regards to appearance?”

Mai thought for a minute. “I don't have strong feelings about that really.”

Mura objected. “Oh no! Find our girl someone handsome!”

The Weaver laughed. “I think that can be arranged.” She had taken diligent notes throughout the meeting, and it seemed she already had a few names in mind.

She had Mai fill out a parchment questionnaire before leaving so she would have some additional personal info and more detailed preferences, but the Weaver liked to start by getting a sense of the person through conversation. She found it produced a much more accurate tapestry of a person’s desires.

— —

Mai’s family left late in the afternoon, as they had claimed the last spot on her schedule. However, today she had accepted a special request for an out-of-hours appointment from the Fire Lord himself. He, naturally, had diplomatic appointments throughout the commencement of the Peace Extravaganza. But beyond that he required the utmost discretion.

He did not arrive in her office until the sun was setting, but she did not mind in the slightest. He was her most important customer to date, and she was determined to find him a good match. When he walked in, he was accompanied by two older men: one of his advisors and one of the Fire Sages. She bowed to him in the Fire Nation custom as they all took their seats. She thought about offering tea, but remembered that his uncle was the best tea maker in the city and decided against it. Her brew surely could not compare.

She began in her usual way: “Don't be shy. Tell me about your ideal wife.”

“Oh! Uh…” Zuko was at a loss for what to say. His traitorous thoughts ran rampant: Her name is Mai. She lived across the street. She works for her aunt in a flower shop. She kissed me when I was thirteen and my life has never been the same.

The Matchmaker smiled warmly. Her clients weren't so chatty today. “That's okay, dear. Does she need to be Fire Nation? Do you want her to be a bender? Are there requirements for being the Fire Lady? What values do you most look for in a partner?”

Zuko took a breath and tried to remember all her questions. Maybe it was because of his mother’s theater background, but whenever he was nervous, he found it helpful to put on a persona. I’m not Zuko, I’m the dragon emperor and I am looking for a bride. He put on his best royal voice and began, “I think it would be best if she was from the Fire Nation. If she is to be my wife, then she will be their ruler someday. And a ruler should be well acquainted with her people. In that vein, a good education is also important. I want someone who can help me make decisions and be my true equal. I don't want her to feel imposed upon because of my station.” Zuko almost choked up during that statement. He couldn't stop thinking about Mai and all of the ways he failed her. He desperately wanted to be anywhere but there.

The matchmaker’s eyes darted to the forms on her desk. She shuffled through until she found what she was looking for. The Royal Fire Academy for Girls, eh? The matchmaker knew she was entering dangerous territory. It was always tempting to pair up clients who had sessions back to back. But she’d learned well enough from the Kangaroo Island Incident that this was not always wise.

“A fire bender would be strongly preferred,” the Fire Sage cut in.

Zuko's response was immediate and involuntary. “No!” Everyone looked at him, and he scrambled to regain his composure. “I mean… a fire bender would be fine but I don't have strong preferences in that regard.”

The Weaver’s eyes twinkled with mischief. He probably wanted a young lady who he could impress with his bending. She’d met many a man like that in her day, and some of them were quite impressive indeed. The gloomy girl wasn’t a bender, but she would still be hard to impress. Perhaps that is what he needs.

She pursed her lips: “Are you trained in any martial arts other than bending?”

Zuko was surprised by the question. “I trained with Master Piandao in dual dao swords.” For some reason, this answer seemed to please the Weaver greatly.

“Don't forget, Fire Lord Zuko, your prime directive in this union is to produce an heir. And it would be most beneficial for the nation if that child was a firebender,” his advisor at last spoke up.

Zuko responded icily: “I do not care if my child is a firebender or not. And for your sake, you had better not care either.”

The Weaver recalled how the knife girl had cradled her brother in her arms.The pair would be good parents. Perhaps a tad over-protective, but a little prince or princess would require a greater level of care.

The Fire Lord continued speaking, “But since you reminded me that your rush for an heir was spurred on by multiple assassination attempts, I would like a woman who knows at least basic self-defense. My guards can only do so much. It would ease my mind if she could protect herself.”

The Matchmaker nodded in agreement. Truly this job was getting too easy. “Do you have any preferences on how she should look?”

Zuko blanched, and instinctively reached up to touch his scar. “I really don't think I have any room for judgment.”

The Matchmaker tsked. “Nonsense. You are quite handsome, and everyone is attracted to different traits. Is there anything- a certain eye color or hair style- that you find particularly compelling?”

Before he could stop himself, Zuko answered, “Long hair. Straight. And silky smooth.”

The Matchmaker smiled. This time was nothing like Kangaroo Island. The two were obviously meant to be. “How do you feel about bangs?”

“I think they're really cute,” he said with a small voice.

The Matchmaker handed him his exit paperwork, and leaned back in her seat. She couldn't believe her luck! Those two kids are perfect for each other. And to think they wouldn't meet if it weren't for her planning their date. She was confident there would be a wedding within the year.

— —

“You’re kidding!” Ty Lee squealed. “You’re really going on a date!”

“Yeah.”

“And it was set up by the most famous matchmaker in the world?”

“I guess so.”

“Do you think he’ll be handsome? Or rich? Oh! What if he’s like Earth Kingdom royalty or something?”

Mai sighed, “Honestly, Ty Lee, don’t you think I’ve had enough of handsome, rich royalty?”

Ty Lee had the decency to look ashamed. “Oh yeah. I guess I still kind of think of Zuko as our childhood friend. It’s hard to believe he was my boss. Even when I was guarding his life, he still just seemed like Zuko.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask, why did Zuko send you all away?” About four months ago, Zuko had seemingly out-of-nowhere decided to send the Kyoshi Warriors home. Against her reasonable judgment, Mai took the action personally. Not only did she employ them in the first place, but she had become good friends with Suki and the other girls. She often met up with them for lunch, shopping, sparring, and passing the time in general.

Ty Lee rustled at her wording. “We were honorably discharged, thank you very much. The opposition to his reign was calming down and so I think he wanted his guard to be all Fire Nation again. There was some pretty nasty talk about us being a foreign militia in the palace, but I don’t know if that affected his decision.”

Mai nodded. She knew firsthand how brutal Fire Nation court gossip could get, but she hoped that wasn’t impacting Zuko’s security decisions.

“Anyway, don’t think you can get out of this date talk by bringing up your ex boyfriend.”

Mai shrugged. “There’s not much to tell. I won’t meet him until tomorrow.” It had been less than twenty-four hours since her appointment with the Wedding Weaver and Mai had already received a missive notifying her that a match had been made and the date was going to take place the following evening. The message arrived during her lunch with Ty Lee, squashing any hopes of keeping the rendezvous secret from her friend.

“Can I see the note?” Ty Lee asked, and Mai dutifully handed it over. She read aloud, “‘To the lady Mai, the Wedding Weaver is pleased to inform you that she has followed your string of fate and found your perfect match. As your lives twine together, never forget your dear old matchmaker.’” The note then detailed where and when they were supposed to meet, as well as the level of dress. The Weaver suggested semi-formal attire, which felt a bit pretentious to Mai. “‘P.S. The person you are seeing is of very high rank, and so you must be discreet with the information about your meeting.’ Oops!”

Mai smirked, “Oh c’mon. He’s probably lower level nobility with a big head! And besides, discretion wouldn’t stop me from telling you.” Embarrassment would, but never discretion.

Ty Lee laughed. “What if it’s King Kuei or one of his relatives? Oh! Or someone related to Chief Arnook! You could tell people you dated multiple world leaders!”

Mai let out a rare chuckle. “That would be pretty epic. But I told her to keep it Fire Nation. Long distance seems so boring.”

“Yeah, I seem to recall that not touching for two seconds was long distance for you and Zuko back in the day,” Ty Lee joked.

Mai tried to act offended. “Hey! We were deprived of affection in childhood. We had to make up for lost time.”

“And you certainly did,” Ty Lee quipped back and Mai rolled her eyes.

Ty Lee resumed her question barrage. “So what are you wearing? And what are you doing for make up? Do you wanna try out a new hairstyle? I’ve had a lot of practice with the girls.”

“Who appointed you as my stylist?”

“I appointed myself! Please, it’ll be so fun!”

They spent the rest of the day trying out various outfits in the market and testing make up and hair at Mai’s hotel. Ty Lee insisted she do something different with her hair, but in exchange Mai was able to get her to agree to a dress that wasn’t pink. In the past Mai might have complained about the cringiness of it all, but after four months of missing her best friend– and going even longer without an excuse to get dressed up– she found herself having fun. When she went to sleep that night, she decided that however the date went the next day, it was already worth it.

— —

On the third day of the Peace Extravaganza, Zuko rose with the sun as always and made his way to the Earth King’s palace courtyard to practice his fire bending katas. To his surprise, Aang was there as well.

“Good morning Sifu Hotman!” he said cheerfully. Zuko smiled and nodded in acknowledgement.

Normally he would protest at the nickname, but he had hardly spent any time with Aang this week because of the various meetings and peace ceremonies. He hoped he could catch up with everyone once the schedule slowed down.

“Want to go through your fire forms with your old teacher?”

“Always!”

By the time they finished, it was still too early for most of the palace to be awake. But Zuko managed to flag down a servant to bring them some breakfast in the courtyard.

“So what’s on your schedule today, your royal fieriness?” Aang asked.

Zuko sighed. “The usual, you know what it’s like. I have a meeting with Earth Kingdom’s office of veteran affairs to trade strategies for dealing with the reintegration of troops into civilian life. Then King Kuei and I are attending the opening of Ba Sing Se University’s exchange student program. After that, he and I are set to have lunch. And then it’s on to a panel discussion with the Water Tribe officials about navigation treaties. And after that we have rehearsal for the Ceremony for Perpetual Peace on the last day.”

“Wow! That’s more than me and I’m the event organizer! Do you think you could have dinner with us after the rehearsal?” Aang looked at him hopefully.

“I wish I could but–” Zuko hesitated, “promise you won’t make fun of me for what I’m about to say?”

“Okay?” Well that wasn’t much of a promise, but Zuko figured it was the best he was going to get.

“My advisors bullied me into seeing a matchmaker. The Wedding Weeder or something like that.”

“The Wedding Weaver!” Aang exclaimed. “She’s really famous over here. She boasts a 95% success rate. Excluding the Kangaroo Island incident of course.

“Well I’d never heard of her. But I met with her a couple of days ago and she said she already found my perfect match. She arranged for us to get dinner tonight.”

“TONIGHT?!” Aang yelled, startling a pair of passing servants.

“Hush up!” Zuko hissed. “No one knows yet except Uncle and my council.”

“But what about Mai?” Aang asked. In the months after the war, he and Mai had become fast friends to everyone’s surprise. Retrospectively, it kind of made sense to Zuko. Aang was a lot like Ty Lee, and being the avatar meant that his life was far from boring. And despite his “upbeat attitude,” he was very accepting of “gloomy” people. It took Katara a little bit longer to warm up to Mai, but not by much. Ever since Mai broke up with him, Aang has been encouraging him to try to fix things.

“She’s still with Kei Lo as far as I know. The last time I saw him, he told me to back off and Mai took his side. I think it’s over.”

Aang was visibly disappointed by this, and Zuko added uncomfortably, “You said this matchmaker was really good, right? I’m sure whoever she sets me up with will be… lovely.”

Aang seemed to realize he was affecting Zuko. “Oh! I’m sure she will! But don’t you think it’s a bit dishonest to try to date someone else while you still have feelings for your ex? Isn’t that like cheating?”

Zuko thought about Aang’s words. “I… I don’t know. But I don’t really have a choice. I have a bunch of old guys breathing down my throat to have a kid. I have to start somewhere.”

Aang gave him a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry. That’s rough, buddy.”

— —

Zuko took a deep breath and began to ascend the stairs. The Weaver had reserved an entire rooftop balcony for them. He wondered what his date was thinking about all of this. The matchmaker had not revealed his identity, but had apparently told her that he was an important official who required privacy. What if she’s angry that I didn’t tell her my identity first? Mai had always hated surprises. Spirits, she was beautiful when she despised things.

Uncle had given him a gift basket with an assortment of tea leaves and several coupons for the Jasmine Dragon. He assured Zuko that if his date was caught off-guard, the smell of the tea leaves would calm her. Zuko wasn’t sure if he believed that, but he trusted that uncle knew better than him, so he figured he should probably lead with the gift. When reached the door to the balcony, he rearranged the items of the gift basket one last time.

As he stepped on the terrace, he caught sight of a female figure. She was standing at the edge of the balcony, looking out over the city with her back turned. She had long black hair that she wore loose, and for a moment he almost tricked himself into thinking it was Mai. Maybe bringing up the hair was a mistake.

“Hello–”

She spun around, knives in hand. Agni, it was Mai!

“Zuko, what the fuck? How did you find out about my date?”

Zuko gaped at her, “I– I didn’t. This is supposed to be my date.”

Mai took in the gift-basket and his gelled hair. No doubt both courtesy of his uncle.

She buried her face in her hands and her shoulders began to shake. Zuko felt his heart fall into his stomach. He dropped the basket and ran to her side. “Please don’t cry. I didn’t mean–”

She let out a snort. He pried her hands away from her face to see she was… laughing. She giggled and chortled and it was honestly a bit disconcerting at first. He had never seen her so unrestrained.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” She apologized breathlessly through her mirth. She finally composed herself enough to be coherent. “I just can’t believe I traveled to the other side of the world to be set up on a date with you!”

Zuko glowered and dropped her hands. “I could say the exact same thing!”

Mai suddenly became serious, “ I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just that I was finally trying to move on and here you are.”

Zuko couldn’t believe this. “Again, I could say the same! No! I should be the only one saying that. You broke up with me. And you’re dating Kei Lo. Why are you even here? What do you mean ‘move on’?”

Mai crossed her arms. “For your information, Kei Lo broke up with me because I couldn’t let go of you.” Zuko felt a fluttering in his ribcage, but she didn’t stop there, “And I tried to be a good girlfriend, but you weren’t interested in my support. You would rather keep all your emotions locked away in your chest.”

Zuko rolled his eyes. “You’re one to talk–”

“Hey! I’ve been doing better and you know it.”

He supposed that was true. After all, she was expressing herself with gusto today. He remembered Uncle’s calming tea and retrieved the basket. Luckily, it had landed right side up.

He walked back to Mai and extended it to her. No use in letting it go to waste. “For you.”

Mai looked like she was about to make another cutting remark, but then she noticed the contents. “Is this from Iroh?” He nodded and she accepted the basket. She picked up a sachet of spiced oolong and inhaled. “This always was my favorite. Thank you.” She hesitated, “Are you sure you don’t want to save this nice array for the next girl?”

Zuko huffed. “What next girl?”

He looked around the balcony for the first time, as if he thought some beautiful woman would emerge and save him from this awkwardness. There was a table piled high with food that was rapidly growing cold, and two chairs. Mai was glad she pilfered some dumplings before he arrived. Ty Lee made her spend hours getting ready and so she was starving. And now Zuko was probably going to kick her out before she got dinner.

Mai shrugged. “I don’t know. Whoever the Weaver sends you after me?”

“I didn’t actually see her of my own free will. It’s kind of a long story. Would you like to sit?” He gestured to the table. He pulled out her chair for her. Mai raised an eyebrow, but she set her basked to the side and accepted the gesture nonetheless. He sat across from her.

“So, start talking.” Mai quickly piled food onto her plate. If Zuko actually had a long story, she could finally eat.

“My advisors are concerned that I don’t have an heir. I currently have Kiyi listed, but… if something happens I don’t know if the people will accept her.”

Mai felt a chill run up her spine. “Zuko, you’re talking as though you’re going to croak any minute. Ty Lee told me that the situation was stabilizing and that was why you sent the Kyoshi warriors back to their island.”

Zuko took a bite of a steamed bun and refused to meet her gaze. Mai glared at him until he spoke, “The situation is stabilizing, but it will never be fully secure until the Fire Nation can operate independently. I heard some of the girls talking outside my office one day. They were feeling homesick. It was always meant to be a temporary post, and I didn’t want to force them to stay if they were unhappy. Anyway, Suki and Ty Lee had been personally training the replacement guards for some time anyway. So I ended their contract. And I gave them generous severance by the way.”

“Maybe independence isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Have there been more assassination attempts since they left?” Just like Mai to cut to the chase. For some reason, it made Zuko want to smile despite the serious topic.

“There have been two in the last four months. But the guards are improving, truly. I would not put my family in their care if I didn’t trust them.”

Mai nodded. “All the same, you would tell someone, right? If you were concerned.”

Zuko blinked in surprise. “Who would I tell?”

Mai wanted to flip the table. Instead she took a breath. Pretend you’re explaining a really difficult concept to Tom Tom. “You could tell Aang, or Katara, or Toph, or Sokka, or Suki, or Ty Lee. You know, any of your friends,” she deadpanned.

Zuko smiled, but it was bittersweet. “I’m trying to be better about reaching out. I acknowledge that in the past I haven’t been the best about that. But there are certain things that our friends can’t help me with. They all have their own responsibilities far away from Caldera City. This is something I need to figure out as the Fire Lord.”

Mai felt her heart twist. He didn’t hesitate to include her: ‘our friends.’ She forced herself to speak before she lost her nerve. “You could talk to me. I know things are awkward between us right now, but you’re one of my only childhood friends. I still care about you, Zuko. And I’m not volunteering to be your personal bodyguard or anything, but I don’t mind helping you vet the new recruits or spending some afternoons at the palace to help out.”

“That would be great!” Zuko accepted her offer without hesitation. He would always take whatever she was willing to give him. But then he remembered something she had said earlier. “Only if you’re sure that won’t interfere with your attempt to get over me. I don’t want to stand in the way of your happiness.”

Mai narrowed her eyes, trying to determine if he was making fun of her. And then she remembered what she said only moments ago in the heat of their argument. She felt her cheeks get hot. “Oh! That was… a bit of an over-exaggeration. I didn’t really want to see the matchmaker either. My mom and aunt were pressuring me, and then Ty Lee got on board. I guess their enthusiasm rubbed off on me more than I realized.”

Zuko smirked, “Yeah, you’re so easy to enthuse.”

Mai rolled her eyes and threw a dumpling at him. He had the good sense to duck and he came up laughing.

“So,” he began. “If you wanna hear about my problems, maybe we could start with this festival.”

Mai nodded, “You can tell me all about it until this table is empty.”

Zuko chuckled and quickly launched into complaints about his overbooked schedule and his ridiculous advisors. Mai listened intently, and, in turn, she regaled him with the trials and tribulations of the floral industry. When they finally parted, Yue was well into her nightly journey. Mai rejected Zuko’s offer of a personal escort home, but he insisted she take at least one of his guards. “I know you don’t need the protection, but I can’t have the restaurant owner think I’m an inconsiderate date.” As the pair disappeared into the city streets, Zuko couldn’t help smiling. Maybe Mai didn’t reciprocate his feelings, but she was miraculously his friend again and that was enough. He ought to send the Wedding Weaver a generous tip.

Later, as Mai slid into bed, she thought about her conversation with Zuko. He was so much more open now compared to when they broke up. Had she overreacted in ending things with him? Was it… possible that he was still willing to try again? She didn’t have satisfactory answers to these questions yet, but she had gotten one of her best friends back. That had to count for something.

— —

The First Annual Peace Extravaganza went on smoothly and historic treaties were agreed upon by the remaining three nations. However, nothing that happened was quite as historic as the Third Annual Peace Extravaganza, where the Fire Lord announced his engagement to his long-term girlfriend, Lady Mai. He shocked the world by declaring that their wedding would take place on the summer solstice, just three months away.

There was some talk about whether or not the two would be suitable rulers. In their not-so distant youth, the couple was said to have a tumultuous on-again and off-again affair. But she had been his steadfast companion for the past two years, and the royal council was happy to simply have the promise of a stronger bloodline.

The Wedding Weaver smiled when she heard the news. Since that fateful day, she learned that she was not the reason for the royal couple’s first meeting. By the time they reached her door, their life lines had long since been plied together into a single thread. She took up her place at her loom and began to weave.

— —

For Mai and Zuko, the time between their engagement and their wedding day passed in a blur. On top of their usual responsibilities of keeping a country running, they had to plan what was shaping up to be the largest party of the century. The festivities would take several days.

The first day was their traditional betrothal ceremony, made awkward by the conspicuous absence of their fathers. The awkwardness only grew. Mai’s uncle, the Warden of the Boiling Rock, had offered to take the place of her father, and kept threatening to revoke his approval, making Zuko promise and swear repeatedly on all the Spirits that he would never hurt Mai emotionally or physically. Uncle Iroh, who had taken the place of Zuko’s own father, found the situation quite amusing. Iroh and Mai had to hold back their laughter and the Warden made Zuko get on his knees and repeat his vows.

The second day was the wedding ceremony itself and Mai’s coronation. Zuko would always remember how beautiful Mai looked in the traditional robes. To the crowd’s– and Zuko’s– surprise, Mai openly cried tears of joy as she said her vows. She accepted her position as Fire Lady earnestly, and even the Sages were pleased. The entire Nation celebrated that night, while Mai and Zuko slipped away to celebrate privately.

The third day was reserved entirely for opening gifts from whoever the council deemed noteworthy. King Kuei had gifted them a large and rather unsightly bear statue that Mai decided could live in one of the many basement sitting rooms. Chief Arnook presented them with heavy duty and finely embroidered Water Tribe tunics for their next visit. Zuko was grateful but slightly disappointed. (On their previous trips to the North, Mai had clung to his side like a burr, seeking his inner fire. Now she would likely burrow into her heavy robes instead.) Chief Hakoda, at his children’s recommendation, gave them matching whale tooth knives. These were privately both Mai and Zuko’s favorite gift of the celebration.

Yet even after this event, they were left with an entire storeroom of gifts from citizens and well-wishers that would have to be dealt with eventually, which is where Mai and Zuko found themselves that evening.

“I don’t even know where to start with all of this,” Zuko sighed. “I don’t mean to be ungrateful, but it’s not like we’re lacking. I wish people would save their money.”

Mai wrapped her arms around her husband. The festivities were making her much more sentimental than usual. “I agree, but think about it this way: they gifted us these things because they appreciate what you’ve done as their leader. It’s all well-deserved.”

Zuko smiled and returned her embrace, “They’re your gifts too. The people are excited to have a Fire Lady again, and I’m so grateful that it’s you. I couldn’t imagine doing this with anyone else.”

Mai smiled and kissed him on the cheek, but she broke away from his hold after that. She wanted to make her way through at least some of this stuff before they left for their honeymoon after a few more days of public festivities. Everything had already been inspected for security purposes and the servants had created a separate section for gifts from people that they may have known personally. Mai made her way there, thinking it would be a good place to begin. Zuko followed and picked up a wrapped parcel with a familiar seal.

“No way,” he said, chuckling. “Mai, this is from our matchmaker!”

“Really?” she leaned into his side to read the attached note.

Dearest Fire Lord and Fire Lady,

From the moment I met the both of you, I could sense that you were destined to be a match. The string of fate between you is strong! By chance, I met you on the same day, and when the young Fire Lord spoke, it felt like he was describing you, Mai dear. It would be months before I learned that was perhaps truer than I could have guessed. Even though I did not bring you two together for the first time, I hope that the two of you are bound to stay. Please accept this token of my congratulations.

The Wedding Weaver

P.S. Zuko darling, thank you for the generous donations to my business.

Mai raised an eyebrow at ‘Zuko darling’. “You’ve been sending her money?”

“Well she got you back with me,” he replied. “I don’t regret a single copper piece!”

Mai laughed and unwrapped the parcel. Unsurprisingly, she gifted them a tapestry. It depicted the two of them standing side by side, surrounded by a border of their birth flowers. It was an impressive likeness considering that she had only seen them once and that she had rendered them in thread and not ink.

“Woah!” Zuko ran his hand along the stitches. “Do you think my council would let me hang this up instead of a royal portrait?”

“Unfortunately, I don’t think so,” Mai replied, “but this is way nicer than the bear statue. We should put it somewhere visible.”

“We should.” Zuko pulled his wife into another embrace. “Do you believe in strings of fate?” he asked, although he suspected he knew the answer.

“No,” Mai answered, “but if such a thing existed, then I believe it would exist between us.”

Zuko buried his face in her hair and smiled. This was about as sappy as Mai got. “I think so too.”

#atla maiko #atla mai #atla zuko #maiko #mai #zuko #atla #avatar the last airbender #mai x zuko #zuko x mai #maikoweek2024 #if Mai and Zuko don't get married in the Zuko movie I will RIOT

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broadwaydivastournament · 28 days

Text

Broadway Divas Tournament: Semifinals

Six-time Tony winner Audra McDonald (1970) holds the record for most Tony acting awards a person has ever won. She is one of five actors to be nominated across all four respective acting categories and the only person to win every one (and the only actress out of the three who is still living...). Her stage work includes: Ragtime (1998), Porgy and Bess (2012), and Lady Day at Emmerson's Bar and Grill (2014). Internationally acclaimed concert tours, Tony host, crown jewel of the American Stage. Grammy winner, Tony winner, Emmy winner. Get this woman an Oscar, stat. This is a BROADWAY Diva tournament, and it doesn't get much more BROADWAY than this.

Legend, icon, certified GILF Christine Baranski (1952) has a theatre resume a mile long. A two-time Tony winner, Christine has performed on and off-Broadway, regionally, and internationally in shows such as Mame at the Kennedy Center, the pre-Broadway workshop of Sunday in the Park with George, and the infamous flop that was Nick & Nora (1991). She can be seen alongside a slew of other Broadway Divas in HBO's The Gilded Age, and has also participated in at least ten Sondheim shows and concerts over the years. This is a Broadway DIVA tournament, and it doesn't get much more DIVA than this.

NEW PROPAGANDA AND MEDIA UNDER CUT: ALL POLLS HERE

youtube

"Okay, so. I've seen Audra McDonald in concert three times, and each time has been a soul-ascending experience. She is *THE* Diva of Broadway in every single definition of the word. Most Tonys, tied for most nominations, critically acclaimed. I'm listening to "I Could Have Danced All Night" as I type this out, and the high note she just hit at the climax almost knocked me out of my seat. If you do not vote for Audra McDonald in this BROADWAY DIVA TOURNAMENT, what are you even doing here?"

youtube

"Did you know that Christine Baranski has a lakehouse in Connecticut, and she invites all her famous friends to go swimming "with or without" swimsuits? Cherry Jones is particularly fond of staying out on the lake all night long. If that's not icon diva behavior, what is? Christine may be a big screen star with some Emmys and whatnot, but she started on the stage, and she remembers her roots fondly. I long for the day when she comes back, if only for a special one-night-only extravaganza."

#audra mcdonald #christine baranski #semifinal round #broadwaydivastournament #broadway #tournament poll #broadway divas #musical theatre

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genshin-impact-unofficial · 5 months

Note

Hi! I love the way you write Itto :). Could you please write a fluff scenario of Itto x gn!reader spending Christmas together? 🎄

Ahhhhh! That himbo is my FAVORITE to write. He is so unserious and thinking about him my therapy at this point. MERRY CHRISTMAS and thanks for the request!

Jingle All The Way!

Itto Christmas shenanigans.

Tags: Itto x GN!reader, Silly, Can be read as Established Relationship or not, Fluff, Kisses, Comedy, AU where Teyvat has a Chrismas.

As soon as December hits, something just overcomes Itto.

The man is gonna deck the halls so hard that even Santa will shed a single manly tear. There's no escaping the festivities, especially since you're his partner in crime this year.

It's like a damn speedrun. Cozy sweaters, CHECK. Decorations, CHECK. Egg, NOGGED. Hot Chocolate, GUZZLED. Carols, BELTED. Gingerbread house, DESTROYED.

By the time Christmas rolls around you are beat. At this point the holiday spirit is running through your veins. But at the end of the day, seeing the joy that it brings to the goofy oaf next to you makes it almost worth it.... almost.

"Alright! Next up is the ultimate snowball battle for the ages! Then we gotta- " Your hand quickly covered the oni's mouth, preventing him from saying another word.

"Hold up, I thought we did those things already?" You questioned while raising an eyebrow in suspicion.

"Yeah, but today's Christmas." Itto explained. "It's the big day so we gotta go out with a bang! All the greatest hits in one epic marathon!" He looked so rearing to go that you could almost get swept up in his boundless determination. Your aching muscles reminded you that you COULD NOT take another day running around Inazuma yelling out Christmas carols and double fisting hot coco.

"You want a finale? Alright then, how about a new exciting experience?" You stepped up, hoping Itto would take the bait. He looked at you as though he was mulling it over, gears cranking in his head.

"Oh yeah? Then whats this grand finale of yours? It's a pretty big order to top my masterfully crafted Christmas extravaganza." Itto challenged meanwhile looking quite proud of himself.

"Well you're just going to have to trust me and see." You taunted, knowing full well that the oni's curiosity would get the better of him. So when you grabbed your coat and headed out, it wasn't a question whether the other was following.

Itto tried his best to remain aloof but you could feel anticipation radiating off the boy. You had to make sure not to skimp him on all the experiences that the holidays had to offer. But before you arrived, you instructed the tall man cover his eyes and led him to stand exactly where you wanted him.

"Alight, open!" You smiled as the hand covering Itto's eyes swung away in excitement. He eagerly looked around and took in the beautiful surroundings. The bustling city really was a sight to behold. From the top tier of stairs you could see the lights that twinkled on every store front and white fluffy snow blanket every surface. Intricate decorations were strung across the main road while last minute shoppers scurried on below it. Laughter, music, and wishes of good faith fill the air.

"I gotta give you, this is a great view, buuuuut....." Itto wore a victorious smile. "I can't say it's a new mind blowing experience. I know it's hard to believe that the great leader of the Arataki gang has done it all but-"

"Ah ah ah, the view wasn't the finale." You interrupted, taking an extra step so you were almost eye level with the large man. You pointed upward to guide Itto's gaze. Affixed to the red arch above you was a dainty mistletoe. The oni's crimson eyes locked onto the small plant while his jaw hung slightly jar. The light pink on his cheeks from the nipping cold quickly began to spread and deepen.

"I - ahhhh HAHAH. I mean I CaN- Do you uh?" Itto's words fumbled from his mouth in half formed thoughts. His wide eyes darted back and forth from you to the mistletoe. You chuckled and although you enjoyed the antics of the flustered boy, you were merciful enough to not let him flounder for too long. It was the holidays after all.

"Merry Christmas Itto." You whisper to him while using your newly gained height to lessen the distance. Your hands gripped onto the front of his ugly sweater to pull him closer until lips met. Itto's arms were quick to envelope you into a warm embrace which was nice in contrast to the chilling temperature.

It wasn't long before you were overtaken, Itto held you even closer and his lips lingered on yours. You broke, leaning back in his arms to breath and then giggle when the oni simply opted to start peppering kisses all over your face. Itto pulled back to look at you, his dopey grin held so much affection that you could practically feel your heart melting away in your chest. Okay, maybe putting up with the oni's crazy agenda was worth it..... sometimes.

#genshin #genshin headcanons #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #itto x reader #arataki itto #genshin itto #oneshot #drabble

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viperwhispered · 9 months

Text

Fixation

Relationship: Jamil Viper/fem!Reader Contents: reader's not Yuu, smut, some dubious consent (though you're generally into it), aged-up characters, post-NRC, kinda dark!Jamil in that he has learned to get what he wants, just not necessarily in a good way Rating: Explicit Words: 4.7 k

Summary:

Suddenly, with perfect clarity, you realize how Jamil has set this whole thing up. How everything until now has been leading to this.

The thrill of that thought is what makes you drop all pretenses and yield to him.

Author's notes: Yes the fic I talked about ages ago is finally here! This started of as dub-/noncon pwp, but Jamil insisted on having some plot and buildup. Reader also ended up quite enthusiastic about the whole thing. So for the most part, I'd say the dubcon is pretty mild. You can also find this fic on AO3.

Sometimes it is hard to tell if being a financial advisor to Kalim Al-Asim is a great opportunity or simply a terrible headache.

You certainly have plenty to work with - literally, as Kalim is just as ridiculously wealthy as the rest of the family. Truly a chance of a lifetime to learn and prove yourself capable.

However, Kalim is also notoriously excitable and thus often ends up being rather fickle. He’s all too ready to abandon previously established plans whenever a new, “brilliant” idea occurs to him. Keeping him on track has turned out to be one of the most important skills you need in order to do your job right, and one that causes you the most headaches.

Thankfully Jamil is there to smooth out the rough patches – sure, it feels like he might be present more than necessary just to keep an eye on you, but Jamil is also genuinely helpful when you’re at the end of your rope trying to keep Kalim on track.

Kalim is nice, sure, and a very understanding boss with plenty of faith in your abilities. But there is something very comfortable about working with someone like Jamil, who you can trust to keep on top of things and think ahead, no matter what.

Of course Jamil is competent. In his position he has to be. But it isn’t just his skill, but the whole way he carries and presents himself, that suits your fancy. Calm, clever, level-headed… Really, you’ve lucked out, even with the caution and suspicion Jamil still occasionally shows you.

You also have to admit that Jamil being so attractive certainly works in his favor. You, however, are a professional. Jamil may be nice to look at, but you refuse to let such thoughts cloud your mind while you work together.

Still, every glimpse of Jamil’s person, of who he is outside his duties, feels like a small victory and makes you want to learn more.

Then, there is the incident.

Kalim has invited some prospective business partners for an evening party, and you are also there to make their acquaintance. Kalim’s parties are always full of extravaganza, even – or especially – when they’re for business purposes. Yet, you can’t quite fully relax and mingle while you have to maintain professional appearances. You’re here to form a partnership, after all, before you’re here to have fun.

Later in the evening you withdraw to the gardens for a moment of fresh air and quiet. You barely have the chance to relax a little and take a few deep breaths when you notice Jamil coming your way.

Seems you aren’t the only one looking for a moment of respite.

“Hi Jamil. Seems everything has been going fine so far. How have things been on your end?”

“Nothing unusual. Managing everything has kept me busy.”

“I bet. When Kalim talked about a small evening gathering, I certainly didn’t expect something this elaborate,” you say with a small laugh.

Jamil sighs.

“I am glad I could talk him out of the full parade, at least.”

It is a small change in Jamil’s demeanor when he seems to take note of something, yet you don’t miss the change in his posture or the momentary scowl.

“Is something the matter?” you ask.

Jamil doesn’t respond. Instead he walks around you and raises his voice.

“Can I help you?”

You turn to follow Jamil and see he’s addressing a pair of servants standing by a side door. They are wearing Asim livery, though even you can tell they’ve dressed sloppily.

Ah. Probably Jamil simply has some instructions to give to these two. Or a scolding for slacking off.

You only pay half a mind to Jamil asking the two what they’re up to. Besides, the night air is a little cold, perhaps you should head back inside…

“What did you do?!”

The sudden shout startles you. You see one of the servants brandish a magical gem, pointed right at Jamil, while the other is standing unnaturally still.

Jamil, in contrast, looks perfectly composed.

Like he has full confidence in being able to handle the situation with ease.

“Take your friend down,” Jamil commands.

To your surprise, the servant who was just standing there obeys with no hesitation, lunging towards his companion.

You flinch and turn away, but that doesn't stop you from hearing the sounds of struggle.

The sounds that follow are not much easier to bear. The fight seems to end quickly, the servant that threatened Jamil pinned to the ground. Yet now he’s making desperate pleas for his companion to snap out of it, interspersed with heated accusations of betrayal.

"Make him look at me," Jamil orders.

Somehow, your eyes are drawn to Jamil. That confident posture, his arms crossed across his chest, that smirk on his lips… His eyes slightly narrowed, not in suspicion this time but in what you can only describe as smug satisfaction.

You only realize you’ve been staring when Jamil speaks again. Words of mastery and command that soon silence the struggling servant, leaving them just as compliant as their companion.

You’re no mage, but even you can recognize a spell being cast.

"There you are."

You can practically feel the satisfaction in Jamil's tone.

Suddenly, Jamil turns to you, palm raised in your direction. “You have your phone with you, do you not? Hand it over.”

You’re clearly out of your depth here, still unaware of just what is going on. Yet, you see no reason not to do as Jamil asks, so you take your phone out and hand it to him.

While prying open the back of your phone, Jamil addresses the pair.

"You’re not doing this alone, are you? You will incapacitate any other helpers or coconspirators you have within the estate. Be as subtle as you can, but do not shy from using force if necessary. Your first priority is to protect the guests in the hall, even at the cost of your own lives if necessary.”

Jamil takes out a small piece of what looks like plastic out from the back of your phone and hands it to one of the apparent intruders.

“You will keep this on your person at all times. Understood?”

“Yes, master.”

“Do you know what you need to do?”

“We need to subdue our accomplices, by any means necessary.”

“Good. Go on, then.”

You’re slack-jawed as you stare after the pair as they depart. Meanwhile, Jamil pulls out his own phone and calls security, informs them of intruders at the compound and that one of said intruders is now carrying a GPS tracker.

"We should get back before we are missed,” Jamil says.

He takes another look at you and raises an eyebrow.

“Do not be concerned. What threat they might have posed has been dealt with,” Jamil soothes you.

You can’t say you feel particularly soothed.

“What… what just happened?” you ask.

“Just a few fools who thought they could do as they please. While the situation is under control, you should not wander around lonesome. Come, let’s head back in.”

You allow Jamil to lead you back inside while your mind is racing a mile a minute.

You had a GPS tracker inside your phone?

Did you really just watch Jamil compel an intruder to turn on their companion, just like that?

You should be more bothered by the idea of intruders making it to the grounds. You should be bothered by what Jamil had them do.

Instead, your mind fixates on Jamil, on that calm, confident air of superiority. The easy mastery he had over the situation.

You knew Jamil to be level-headed and able to handle most situations with ease. But you’ve never before seen him quite like this.

Ruthless. Cunning.

The guests apparently never even found out about the attempted attack. As for you, you can’t take your mind off it.

Yet perhaps the most concerning thing is how much you seemed to like seeing him like this.

- - - - - - -

Better said, you can’t take your mind off the Jamil you saw that night.

How is this side of Jamil so attractive? Attractive enough that your fascination with him soon goes far beyond professional interest.

It is easy enough for you to get Kalim to talk about his retainer, praise easily falling from Kalim’s lips. Stories of their time together at Night Raven College, childhood reminiscences, the latest things Jamil has excelled in.

Yet Kalim hardly talks about the sides of Jamil that interest you the most.

You aren’t snooping – definitely not – yet now that you’re looking for it, you begin to see signs of things going Jamil’s way. Slight nudges in different affairs, careful suggestions or supposed slips of the tongue that seem innocuous on the surface. Sometimes, these things benefit Kalim, sometimes them both.

Yet, often enough, the benefit seems to be solely to Jamil. More and more power, gathering at his fingertips.

Ruthless. Cunning. Ambitious.

It shouldn’t make you so hot and bothered, shouldn’t fuel all kinds of indecent fantasies. Yet you can’t help your thoughts revolving around one Jamil Viper and all those secrets he holds so very close to his chest.

When Jamil pulls you aside one day, you barely manage to maintain your mask of professionalism. By now, you’re so far gone that you find it difficult not getting distracted just being in his presence.

If he were to direct all that drive towards you… Just the thought is enough to make you heated.

- - - - - - -

"What game are you playing?" Jamil asks you as soon as you are alone.

You realize his expression is eerily similar to the one he wore when that intruder appeared.

That is the only thing your mind seems to grasp, as the rest of you is simply confused by this sudden question.

Jamil sighs, looking very much like he’s disappointed.

"You're clearly keeping an eye on me, and trying to get information out of Kalim. What for?"

Oh.

"Surely you know by now," you say, unable to look Jamil in the eye. You’ve done your best not to be too forward, not wanting to cross any boundaries. Still, it seems your interest in him could hardly go unnoticed, not by someone as sharp – and careful – as Jamil.

Oh.

"Just tell me what you’re planning. Is it a higher position you're after? Are you hoping to find some blackmail, perhaps?" Jamil says, his expression cold.

Oh no.

You merely stare at Jamil for a moment, your mouth suddenly dry. Is that really what he thinks of you? That you have some sort of a plan that you’re concocting?

"Jamil."

You lick your lips, hoping to will some moisture into your mouth. How in the world are you to find the right words here, without digging yourself into an even deeper hole?

“I was just curious, is all. I did not mean to intrude.”

“Curious? Do you expect me to believe that?” Jamil certainly doesn’t look like he does.

“I'm just… intrigued, and impressed, by you. By what you do. I guess seeing you so easily deal with the intruders made me want to know more about you.”

Does that sound weird? You hope it doesn’t sound weird.

"Is that so?" Jamil asks, an eyebrow raised in question. You think – you hope – he’s lowered his guard, at least a little.

“Yes. Just, you know, wanted to know more about who I’m working with. That’s all.”

You force your hands to stay still, as much as they’re itching to fidget.

"I… I apologize if I've overstepped and made you feel uncomfortable." You are going to be an adult about this, but by the sands do you wish you weren't having this conversation right now. Clearly you have not given the correct impression. At all. But unfortunately you have no idea how to salvage this mess.

You can only hope your cheeks aren’t too red. This situation is embarrassing enough as is without you also looking like a fool.

Jamil remains quiet. If he was carefully watching you earlier, now it feels like he is trying to see your very soul.

“If you truly are simply curious, would it not be better to ask directly from the person you want to know about?” Jamil eventually says.

So, Jamil, do you often like to flex your confidence and skills in such an attractive manner?

Yeah, that would go over so well.

“Yeah… Probably. I’ll keep that in mind for the future. Really sorry to give you cause for concern.”

This whole exchange really is just humiliating.

"Well, if you don't mind, I'd better get back to work." You hope your smile isn't too strained.

Perhaps it is just your imagination, but you think you can feel Jamil’s eyes bore into your back while you walk away, trying to maintain some semblance of looking natural and not utterly frazzled and mortified.

Oh goodness. How are you to get over this one? Sure, Jamil is a cautious man, but for him to outright question you like this… Clearly, you need to get a grip on yourself, stat.

After that confrontation, you keep your distance from Jamil. You interact with him only in professional matters – cordially, but no more than you have to.

Well, that is what you try to do. Because you find yourself increasingly in situations where it is just you and Jamil, working on something or other together.

You can only assume he's doing this to keep a very careful eye on you. Which means that all you can do is to keep to your best behavior.

Sometimes it feels like Jamil is testing you – turning up to your office silently and unannounced, or asking you sudden questions while you’re working together. Always, his eyes are on you, like he’s weighing your every move and word.

Sometimes you wonder if Kalim is using all his business dealings simply as excuses to host parties and travel.

When you thought about having his full attention on you, this was not quite what you had in mind.

- - - - - - -

On this particular occasion Kalim decided to make a trip out of it, so now you are in a foreign land, enjoying most lavish treatment as your hosts are doing everything in their power to butter up the Asim heir and his whole entourage.

You’re not even sure why you’re here, since usually you’re not involved at this stage of negotiations. But since Kalim asked you to join, promising you a chance to visit a new country in luxury, you couldn't possibly refuse.

Still, you’re grateful that your personal rooms are tucked away from the rest. With all the socializing you have to do, you appreciate this chance for peace and quiet.

You wonder how Jamil does it. He’s so much more intricately involved with Kalim’s life than you are, and being involved with Kalim means being involved with all his parties and trips and family and friends. You can only imagine how draining that must be.

You’ve only just had the chance to get to your room. The bed looks very soft and inviting, yet you do your best to resist its lure. You’ll want to get ready for tonight’s program, after all.

You just about get started with washing up when there's a steady knock on your door. For a moment, you consider simply ignoring it – perhaps it’s just a member of the household staff, and they’ll leave you alone if you don’t respond.

The next moment your work phone rings.

Groaning, you dry yourself quickly and throw on a bathrobe – if you had the time, you’d love to revel in the softness of it.

Surprisingly enough, your phone is still ringing by the time you get to it.

“Hi Jamil. What is it?”

“Is there a reason you’re not opening your door?”

I’m not exactly dressed is what you think of saying.

“I was just about to freshen up a bit. Is it urgent?”

“We haven’t yet checked if your room is as it should.”

Ah, yes. The bug check.

While Jamil always takes extra care to make sure Kalim’s quarters are safe from any harmful spells or technomancy, the rest of Kalim’s entourage gets their checks, too. After all, you have access to valuable information – and people – which could be of interest to listening ears or malicious actors.

Considering the particularly watchful eye Jamil has kept on you ever since you roused his suspicions, you suppose you shouldn’t be surprised he’s doing the check personally.

You think of the time Jamil disposed of those intruders. Maybe the dangers that come from associating with someone as important as Kalim Al-Asim are actually the worst part of your job, and dealing with Kalim’s antics is a breath of fresh air in comparison.

“Alright. I’ll let you in.”

While you would prefer to look more put together in front of Jamil, you can’t justify delaying him, either. As usual, he probably has his whole day planned to the last minute, after all.

Besides, you just need to stay off to the side while Jamil does his thing, it’s not like he’ll be paying much attention to you anyway.

You hope.

You pull back your wet hair, checking yourself in the mirror quickly - just to make sure you’re not accidentally indecent, you tell yourself - and let Jamil in.

Jamil simply gives you a nod and you scurry off to the side, letting him pull out his spy bug detector and cast a few spells.

“You’re avoiding me,” Jamil suddenly says.

Sometimes, you really wish he’d drop this straightforward manner he’s adopted with you. One of these days he’s going to give you an actual heart attack.

“I’m just trying to stay out of your way.”

Jamil turns to you with a roll of his eyes.

“I mean, you have been trying to avoid me. For a while.”

You consider protesting, but with the way Jamil’s looking at you, it feels like a futile effort.

It’s not like he’s wrong, after all.

“It seemed I had overstepped. I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.” You say, your words a little feeble even to your own ears.

“Is that your excuse?”

Jamil steps closer, and you find yourself taking a step backwards.

“Is it really my comfort you are so concerned about?” he questions. There is something bold about the way he looks at you, and you find your heart racing under his piercing gaze.

The bathrobe suddenly feels like far too little coverage to your liking. Far too unprofessional. Much too vulnerable.

“If I’m supposed to believe that you were simply being curious… I’m sure you’d be willing to prove it.” There’s something menacing about Jamil’s tone, yet also something thrilling that makes your stomach twist into knots.

You don’t even realize how much you’ve been backing up until your heel hits the wall. There’s a triumphant smirk on Jamil’s features when he steps firmly into your personal space and places one of his hands on your waist.

"Tell me," Jamil practically whispers. His breath tickles your ear, making you shiver. "Just how difficult are you going to make this for me?"

With just a slight move of his head Jamil’s lips make contact with your skin. A small noise escapes your throat - whether it’s more startled or excited, you’re not sure.

You hear Jamil’s low chuckle, and suddenly, with perfect clarity, you realize how he has set this whole thing up. How everything until now has been leading to this. How thoroughly cornered you are, and not just physically.

The thrill of that thought is what makes you drop all pretenses and yield to him.

Jamil leans even closer, drags his tongue across your neck, and you tense and melt at the same time, your mind clouded.

You can hardly do anything when his touch and lips and warmth and closeness overwhelm you.

Really, how could you possibly think in a situation such as this? How could you think when you can barely even breathe?

Suddenly Jamil presses you against the wall with his body, the movement so sudden it pushes the air out of your lungs.

You’re thoroughly caged, trapped between Jamil’s warmth and the cold wall behind you, yet there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

Well, perhaps the bed does tempt you a little, but only if you can have Jamil there with you.

Jamil’s lips find yours, your bodies melding together. There’s something almost hungry about the way he kisses and holds you – if such a restrained man as himself could display such an emotion.

You certainly are ravenous for him. Your lips eagerly meet his, your hands desperately seek to feel more of him. You manage to slip under his layers, feeling the warm skin underneath, and you can feel Jamil twitch under your touch.

Jamil pulls away a little, only to undo the knot holding your bathrobe closed. He pushes the garment aside, sliding it partway down your shoulders. For a moment he pauses, looking you up and down.

The way he looks at you… Oh, you can hardly believe it.

His fingertips trail up your sides in an almost distracted manner, like all his focus is on just eating you up with his eyes. Meanwhile, the way the bathrobe hanging off your arms makes it difficult for you to continue exploring him, especially since Jamil seems to have no intention of giving you the space to fully shrug the garment off.

"So… Either you were telling me the truth about simply being interested. Or this is just another thing you're willing to do to get what you want,” Jamil says, a hint of amusement in his tone.

“I see you won’t be making this difficult at all,” he murmurs, his tone strangely breathless.

“Why would I?” you respond.

Oh, you certainly won’t. Not when your excitement is drowning out any other thoughts in your mind. Just the sensation of Jamil’s hands on your body, feeling you up… Oh, you really do want so much more.

Before you know it, his hands are on your breasts. It’s not gentle, the way he palms you, yet you find you are more than okay with that.

You’re not quite sure which is heating you up more: Jamil’s hands or that intense look in his eyes. It’s like not even the smallest detail could escape his notice right now

You open your mouth to speak, yet your unspoken words turn into a strangled noise when Jamil tugs on one of your nipples. He simply raises an eyebrow and brings a finger to your lips to signal you to be silent. He plays with the peak with his finger and a few quiet whimpers bubble up in the back of your throat. You bite your lip to keep quiet, your back arching into the touch.

.Jamil leans close again, his breath hot on your neck.

“No one has a reason to pass by here, but do try to control yourself and keep quiet.”

Jamil’s hands remain on your chest while his lips return to your neck – whether he simply enjoys that spot, or the reactions he can pull out of you, you’re not sure. He sucks on the skin, and another undignified yelp forces its way halfway out your mouth.

You start tugging on Jamil’s clothes, wanting to see as much of you as he has seen of you. Jamil, however, quickly stops you.

“We do not have that much time in our hands.”

Your protests do not move him, only earning you another stern look.

One of Jamil’s hands trails down your body, and you draw in a quick breath when you realize where it’s headed. Across your ribs, down your stomach, following the line of your hips…

Jamil cups your mound with his palm, like it’s just another part of your body for him to touch as he wishes. Soon, a finger slips between your pussy lips, simply exploring you.

You actually gasp when that finger brushes your clit, a jolt going through you.

“Just look at you… So eager for me,” Jamil murmurs.

Why is it so hot when he looks at you like that? Like he’s got you just where he wants you. Like he’s so satisfied with what he’s done – and what he’s about to do.

“You’re not fair. I can’t even see you properly, while here I am, all… exposed,” you complain.

“So?”

Jamil simply brushes off any further complaints you make. Instead he continues touching and teasing you, like he intends to thoroughly familiarize himself with the feel of your body and the reactions he can pull out of you.

For someone who’s saying you’re on limited time, he certainly seems to take full advantage of enjoying you.

“Jamil…” you breathe out, wondering how to word your growing need. You don’t think you’ve ever wanted something – or someone – inside you as much as you do at this moment.

“Impatient? Get on the bed, then.”

Why is his smug look so damn attractive?

You’re far too horny to question the effect further. Instead, when Jamil steps back to give you room, you immediately take advantage of it. You finally shrug the bathrobe off all the way and wrap your arms around Jamil, kissing him deeply.

Jamil’s tone is a little shaky when he speaks.

“Bed. On your hands and knees.”

Your mind is far too clouded by lust and anticipation for you to even consider disagreeing. So you do as he asks and look at Jamil over your shoulder.

Jamil undoes his clothes just enough to free his hard cock. You get to take only one greedy look at it before Jamil grips your hips and pulls you closer to the edge of the bed. He takes the chance to grope your ass and feel you up.

Then he lines himself up, dragging his cock along your folds a few times before pushing inside. Your hands grip the sheets, the long-awaited stretch pleasant yet intense.

You barely register Jamil’s hiss, too occupied by the feeling of him settling in inside you.

Then he pulls back, pushes back in, and you have to stifle a yelp.

It takes a little adjusting until Jamil can drive into you like he wants to. His hands have a firm hold on your hips, leaving you to just take what he has to give.

Or for him to take what he wants from you.

Each push is a delicious stretch, each bottoming out fills you with sharp pleasure.

“Mmm, s’good,” you mumble, torn between trying to keep quiet and wanting to give voice to the pleasure building inside you.

Jamil lets out a low chuckle.

“Aren’t you something,” he says, his tone somewhere between taunting and satisfied.

Jamil shifts a little, picks up the pace as his breathing becomes heavier. He’s pulling you so close to him, driving in hard enough that you wish to cry out with every thrust. It’s so good, yet so intense, and you can’t help trying to pull away.

"Ahhh, Jamil, it's too much, I can't-"

His hands only grip your hips tighter, ensuring you won’t be going anywhere.

You can’t bite back your noises anymore, a cry escaping your lips with every thrust. You bury your face into a pillow in an attempt to stifle the high-pitched yelps.

Your fists close around your sheets, your body trembling from the shocks of intense pleasure coursing through you – not to mention how every snap of Jamil’s hips makes your body jolt forwards, your breasts swaying with the movements.

Suddenly Jamil’s hips stutter, his low groan going straight to your core. With a few shallow thrusts Jamil empties himself inside you.

You fall slack, breathless, Jamil’s hands on your hips the only thing holding you up.

“Even better than I hoped,” Jamil murmurs, his tone unusually mellow.

You remain like that for just a moment, before Jamil pulls out of you.

"Look at me."

You exhale, slowly, then turn around just enough for your eyes to meet Jamil’s. There’s something hypnotic about those grey eyes…

The next thing you know, you're alone in the room. A hazy thought lingers at the back of your sated mind, something you can't quite catch.

It's no matter. Glancing at the clock you realize you have just about enough time to get yourself ready for the evening.

How long it is going to take before you can look at Jamil with a straight face is another matter altogether.

Author's notes: And there we go! Took so much longer than I anticipated for various reasons, but finally it's here. So glad to have this done and published. I've worked on this so long I have no idea what's good and what's not anymore, so I'd love to hear your (constructive) feedback! It sure has been a while since I wrote fic (& smut) last, and perhaps jumping into a new fandom and new character with an imagined future version wasn't the easiest way to go about it. But that's how it goes sometimes. Tagging @yuuyuu-yuuyuu, @diodellet and @anxiously-sidequesting as requested

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #jamil viper #jamil viper x reader #aaa my first Jamil fic

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bookgeekgrrl · 1 month

Text

My media this week (21-27 Apr 2024)

📚 STUFF I READ 📚

😊 rounding third, sliding home. (througheden) - 68K, enjoyable steddie AU with pro baseball player Steven & massage therapist Eddie

🥰 Daddy Issues (His Boy Next Door #39) (RJ Moray) - reread; just a big fan of Jack & Channon & their ongoing story!

🥰 Common Ground (His Boy Next Door #40) (RJ Moray) - LOVE that Jack & Ewan are finding some common ground - really love that this series is showing how two people who don't particularly care for each other can work to find connection for the sake of the people they DO love

😍 ACT-verse series (ann_anotherthing) - truly outstanding series about middle-aged Steddie getting a 2nd chance romance after their first one flamed out 25 yrs earlier. Full series is 117K but it starts with A Certain Type (54K), which is a fully complete story with satisfying HEA - the rest are flashback fics or wonderfully indulgent epilogue/vignettes, full of fluffy and delicious porn. The author confesses to basically turning them into her middle-aged OCs but 1) I think her projections of their characters in middle-age with these particular life experiences seem reasonably plausible and more importantly 2) I don't fucking care because this story and these characters (main & supporting) are AMAZING.

💖💖 +227K of shorter fic so shout out to these I really loved 💖💖

When you stop being a ghost in a shell (Bittersweet_in_Boston) - MCU: Stucky, 12K - Hydra finds Steve in 1952 & then they have The Asset and The Captain. Except they really should have known better than to ever let them see one another.

Where the Sunflowers Grow (AidaRonan) - Stranger Things: Buckingham, 30K - incredible Chrissy recovery fic with bonus Buckingham. Just. So Fucking Good.

Early Returns (rageprufrock) - Inception: Arthur/Eames, 15K - fabulous AU where Arthur's an editor who has everything on lock, dammit & Eames is a reporter who wants to mess him up. Also the newsroom is nothing but a high-pressure high school when it comes to gossip.

📺 STUFF I WATCHED 📺

Murdoch Mysteries - s16, e14-20

Um, Actually - s9, e5; s1, e3, 4, 6-20

Game Changer - s6, e6

Smartypants - s1, e1

Ghosts (US) - s3, e9

D20: Fantasy High: Junior Year - "Untapped Rage" (s21, e16)

D20: Adventuring Party - "Honor the Cock" (s16, e16)

Dead Boy Detectives - s1, e1-3

🎧 PODCASTS 🎧

Worlds Beyond Number - WWW #13: Of the Gentle Sea

Worlds Beyond Number: Fireside - Fireside Chat for WWW ep13 "Of the Gentle Sea"

Worlds Beyond Number - WWW #14: There is an Ocean Vaster Than This One

Worlds Beyond Number: Fireside - Fireside Chat for WWW ep14 "There is an Ocean Vaster Than This One"

99% Invisible - The Power Broker #04: Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez

What Next: TBD - The Internet Archive Endangered

⭐ The Atlas Obscura Podcast - Tree Week: A Tasty Tale about Meyer Lemons

⭐ The Atlas Obscura Podcast - Tree Week: Love Letters

The Sporkful - Priya Krishna Writes The Kids Cookbook She Wished She'd Had

The Allusionist - 193. Word Play 3: Lemon Demon

WikiHole - Cicadas…LIVE (with Matt Rogers, Carl Tart and Claudia O'Doherty)

In Defense of Fandom - Season 2 Episode 3: Fanfiction fixit data

Vibe Check - Her Mediocrity Cannot Touch Me

Code Switch - How Jewish Communities Are Divided Over Support of Israel

Short Wave - Beavers Can Help With Climate Change. So How Do We Get Along?

The Atlas Obscura Podcast - Tree Week: Oh, the places you will go …. to see these notable trees

⭐ Decoder Ring - Making Real Music for a Fake Band

Ologies with Alie Ward - Columbidology (PIGEONS? YES) Part 2 with Rosemary Mosco

All Songs Considered - Cruel songs for the cruelest month

Pop Culture Happy Hour - What Makes A Good Sex Scene?

The Atlas Obscura Podcast - Tree Week: Killer Trees with Mary Roach

Shedunnit - Agatha Christie's Many Houses

⭐ 99% Invisible #579 - Towers of Silence

Worlds Beyond Number: Fireside - Fireside Chat: Sound and Music Talkback Extravaganza: The Sound and the Fury: Music is All Around Us Volume 1

Dear Prudence - My love language with friends is touch, but it makes my partner jealous. Help!

Worlds Beyond Number - Fireside Chat for Chapter 1 of The Wizard the Witch and the Wild One

⭐ Endless Thread - The Jackie Show

Worlds Beyond Number: Fireside - Fireside Chat for LEVELING UP (1 to 2)

Today, Explained - Honey, We Saved the Bees

Wait Wait… Don't Tell Me! - Renée Elise Goldsberry

⭐ Hit Parade - The Bridge: What Made Them Beautiful

History Is Sexy - Episode #86 - Napoleon III

🎶 MUSIC 🎶

'80s Pop Party

Village People radio

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growthgoddess · 1 year

Text

The Biggest Hit Attraction

Daisy had always dreamed of being a clown in the carnival. From a young age, she had been fascinated by the bright lights, the exciting performances, and the joy that it brought to people's faces.

So, when she finally landed a job at the carnival, she was over the moon. She worked hard, practiced her routines, and put on her makeup with care.

She was always punctual on the podium. Eager to welcome guests into the carnival and hand them balloons to hype up the attendees.

But despite her best efforts, she could never seem to win over the crowd. They would snicker at her clumsy moves, poke fun at her oversized shoes, and toss her withering looks as they passed by her booth.

Daisy would try her best to brush it off and carry on with her performance, but every insult she received chipped away at her self-esteem.

When the carnival master gave her a letter to reconsider her position as the carnival's front mascot, she began to wonder if she was really cut out for this job.

One day, as she was wandering the carnival grounds, feeling low, she came across a mysterious fortune teller's tent. The fortune teller was an old woman with a kind smile, who listened patiently as Daisy poured out her heart to her.

"I just don't know what to do," Daisy said. "I feel like I'll never be good enough."

The fortune teller nodded sympathetically. "I have just the thing for you," she said, reaching into a small box and pulling out a shiny gold coin. "This coin will give you the confidence and energy you need to be the best show this carnival has ever seen!"

Daisy took the coin, feeling a little skeptical, but also hopeful. She rubbed it twice and slipped it into her pocket, she thanked the fortune teller and went back to her tent to prepare for her performance that night.

The grand tent was silent with anticipation. The drumroll kicked in and a spotlight shone upon the ringmaster.

"Ladieeees and gentlemen, boys and girls! I have for you a show that will leave you gasping in awe and wonder. Tonight, we bring you a spectacle of gigantic proportions, an extravaganza that will astound and amaze even the most seasoned circus-goers. Get ready to witness feats of strength and skill that defy the laws of physics, performed by the most talented and daring performers in the world. Prepare to be transported to a world of excitement and magic, as we unleash an unforgettable show that will leave you breathless. So hold on tight, because the show is about to begin, and trust me, it's going to be big!"

The crowd went wild and the show began. Strongmen lifted barbells and threw them in the air. Elephants stood up and performed feats of wonder. With every show, the stakes went higher and higher!

Soon, it was time for Daisy's intermission to calm the crowd down for the next big show. She was just supposed to go there and act silly to make the crowd laugh and renew their wonder.

However, as she began her act, the audience laughed and jeered with insulting tones at her. They threw tomatoes at her as she was juggling balls. Daisy felt dejected, but the show had to go on.

Suddenly, she accidentally juggled the coin given to her, and with the chaos, swallowed it as it fell. Daisy choked and circled around the stage looking for help, the ringmaster had to stop the crowd and check up on Daisy's condition.

Then it struck her. It was like a sudden surge of power, and she felt more confident than she ever had before. Her eyes widened after swallowing the coin, she stood up straight and smiled.

The silent crowd was at awe at the change in tone.

"Daisy, are you alright?" Asked the ringmaster. And Daisy simply nodded and gave him a thumbs up. The elderly man smiled at her and patted her back.

The fanfare continued and she continued her performance. It was still far from perfect, but she found herself laughing at the jeers and heckles that came her way, and responding with quick-witted retorts that made the crowd laugh even harder.

But then, in the middle of her performance while balancing atop a giant ball, she felt a little sick, could it have been the coin she swallowed?

Something strange began to happen to her body. Daisy felt a rumbling in her stomach, and then she felt her clothes shifting around her form particularly around her chest and hips. She tried stay balanced atop of the ball, but she felt an additional weight around her bosom and thighs that she fell off.

Her impact on the ground tore her colorful costume top open as she started to grow. Her already feminine form emphasizing further with every spurt.

Mothers had to cover their cheering children's eyes at the sight of the growing woman onstage. Daisy was confused when she saw her perspective of the crowd and her carnival friends rose higher and higher.

Share barely felt the tight cling of her tightening clothes around her as she grew and grew until she was towering over the crowd, and her costume couldn't contain her anymore.

The crowd gasped and cheered, thinking this was all part of the show. They watched in amazement as Daisy lifted tore the carnival tent apart to use to cover herself. She lifted people and animals up to gauge her newfound size and strength.

Daisy was elated. She had never felt so powerful and alive. She struck poses and did feats of strength such as lifting elephants and bending entire steel bars.

The ringmaster improvised a show and a costume for her to keep things decent. He let her be the highlight of tonight's circus and allowed people to interact with her after the show.

She would let them slide across her giant body, or have them sit in ferris wheel cars as she'd carry them around. She was no longer just a performer of the carnival, but also a ride!

The formerly meek Daisy had become the carnival's biggest attraction, and people came from far and wide just to see her perform and take pictures with her.

She has become the carnival's iconic mascot - Dazzling Daisy!

And yet, even as she basked in the glow of the crowd's adulation, she couldn't forget the fortune teller who had given her the magic coin.

She went back to the tent, hoping to thank her, but found that the tent was empty. In fact, the fortune teller had disappeared without a trace.

Daisy looked around, feeling a little bewildered. But then, as she looked down at her massive form, she realized something. She had been given a gift, not just of size and strength, but of confidence and self-respect. And even though the fortune teller was gone, she knew that she would always carry that gift with her.

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mediocre-daydreams · 2 years

Note

hi! I want to make a request for your 100 followers extravaganza if thats okay? also congratulations ofc!

“you- you’re beautiful.” + “nobody’s ever told me that/said that about me before” for mcu!Peter Parker x fem!reader. Maybe like, hurt comfort where Peter has a huge crush on reader and he notices that reader is insecure about the way she looks? like, comparing herself to other people.

@daydreamdrive05 !! thank u so much for this precious request, i ended up putting a lot of my old internal monologue/experiences for reader sdkjfshdlfj and had peter discussing body neutrality, as that was what really helped me overcome my own insecurities <3 i hope u enjoy!!

𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐫

peter parker x insecure! stark!reader

summary: your insecurities get the best of you when you're expected to be the perfect stark daughter. (hurt/comfort fic)

w/c: 2.7k

notes: insecurity surrounding body image, facial features, beauty standards, public image. no specific features or body types mentioned, but reader wears makeup.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

smile for the camera. read off the prewritten notecard. ironed blazer, steamed blouse, pressed slacks, polished shoes. your image, your dad’s image, the company’s image, the avengers’ image.

there’s no “daddy’s money shopping spree” or romantic masquerade balls or even prom queen; not for you, at least. it should be easy, right? you could technically have anything money can buy—a rhinoplasty for your birthday, a gucci purse to replace your old backpack, or a private quinjet, if you begged. but image. image was what ruled your world.

you had to be polished and just as intelligent as your genius father, you had to accomplish the same or more than he did at your age, and if you couldn’t, then you’d better slip into the background. you could already feel yourself slipping; how could you compete? you hadn’t revolutionized nanotechnology, you didn’t have super soldier serum running through your veins, hell, you couldn’t even talk to a boy! well, one boy in particular.

“you excited?” peter bounced beside you on the couch, sending you up and down as well.

“you already know the answer, pete,” you sighed, crossing your arms and leaning your head back to stare at the ceiling.

“yeah, yeah. company galas suck, i know, but i’ll be there this time!” peter chirped, resting a comforting hand on your elbow that made you shiver.

“that just means we’ll both be suffering,” you grumbled. you rotated your head to look at peter, who was still grinning optimistically, so you rolled your head back around.

“aw, c’mon! they’re boring, but you get to wear fancy clothes and pretend to be important. it’s kind of fun messing with businessmen; i think i’m going to try and get someone to invest in my company. my… digestive biscuit brand.”

you snorted, unconvinced. “trust me, once you’ve been to a few, it gets old. you just feel stupid. and unimportant. like, the key word being pretend. you pretend to be important and clever and promising and people eat it up because all they smell is another profitable venture, but at the end of the day, you know it’s all an act and it just reminds you how worthless and feeble you are in comparison to everyone else in your life.”

but you didn’t say that. “hot take: i love digestive biscuits. they’re the perfect snack food.”

peter looked at you like that was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. “that’s the most ridiculous thing i’ve ever heard,” he grimaced. “i can’t be around this low vibrational energy right now. i need to cleanse my aura with my selenite wand before the gala; i don’t want to manifest bad investments.”

you stared at him with wide eyes and gave him a slow, singular blink before the two of you burst into laughter.

“right. you do that,” you wheezed, “and i’ll start getting ready. you’re so lucky, all you have to do is like, put on deodorant and pick out a tie. i have to shave and i’ll probably nick myself or one of my muscles will cramp up, then i have to do my hair and it’ll pull on my scalp and i’ll have a headache for the rest of the night, and then i’ve gotta do makeup but it can’t look ‘cakey’ but it also can’t look to natural or i won’t look ‘formal’ enough, then i’ve gotta squeeze into a dress that’ll probably prevent me from walking properly, accessorize, but not overboard but also not too safe, because stark’s daughter would never be caught looking basic…”

you didn’t say that either. “alright starseed, you have fun with that. i’m gonna take a shower and contemplate everything i’ve done in my life to lead up to this moment.”

your shower ended up being an hour long because you couldn’t reach the back of your legs and slipped while you were transitioning from using your body oil and body polish—you thought you might’ve bruised your tailbone, but that was a problem for later—and then you forgot a towel, so you spent a good five minutes hyping yourself up to run out in the cold.

you weren’t the most adept at makeup, which was inconvenient considering you had been breaking out from stress recently. it turned out that you’d gotten slightly tanner, which meant your foundation shade no longer matched, so you had to get creative and mix up a concoction of makeup products that made you feel like a kid brewing up a potion made of mud, leaves, and mysterious sticky substances.

doing your hair made your arms cramp, as usual, and you’d taken two double-strength advils in preparation for the inevitable migraine that came with the territory of female “professionalism.” you went through a couple of dresses—you’d been photographed in too many skirts and pantsuits recently, and stark’s daughter would never outfit repeat—before finding one that didn’t highlight all your insecurities.

were you going to contrast your jewelry or keep it monochrome? one big statement piece or multiple delicate ones? would silver or gold complement your undertones and the color of your outfit? should you keep it traditional with the pearl necklace, or embrace trends and get creative?

sometimes you wondered if the mirror in your room was one of those funhouse types that warped your reflection. why were you so… off? your torso to leg ratio was all disproportionate, your head was too big for your body, your nails were so wide and not dainty and almond-shaped, your ankles jutted out too much, your smile looked stupid, and you looked like you were trying too hard because you were trying too hard.

“peter?” you squeaked, head whipping around as you heard the door creak open. peter looked smart in a well-fitting suit, a silk tie in hand as usual for you to help him with. he combed his fingers through his hair nervously, and you noticed his failed attempt to slick it back with gel. you smiled.

“hey, you look- wow- just- beautiful, like- wow.” peter grinned, too caught up in his dopey appreciation to be embarrassed by his stuttering.

“i can’t believe you’re my date…” he whispered, before slapping a hand over his mouth. “oh my god, i’m so sorry! we’re not dating- that’s not even what i meant; i mean, we’re not going as a couple- except as a couple of besties! ha! uh, no, i meant that we’re not going like, as a plus one, plus two situation. is that how it works? you’re not my- i’m not your plus two. one.”

you laughed nervously. “if anything, i’d be your plus one. you look fantastic, pete.” you really did mean it. waving him over, you rested your hands on his cheeks, which were warm under your touch.

“you’re real blushy today,” you mumbled.

“sorry i’m so gah,” peter fretted, waving his hands around, “all over the place right now. it’s just, i’m standing really close to a beautiful girl and i’m nervous so the blood is rushing to my face because that’s a bodily response people have when they’re near somebody they’re attracted to,” peter rambled.

peter squeezed his eyes shut and cursed under his breath.

“there’s no need to be nervous. i’m not beautiful,” you laughed. “i’m the one who should be all flustered. i’m standing in front of a superhero, this precious, kind boy who thinks way too highly of me and i just- i don’t know what i did you deserve you.”

“what?” peter sounded incredulous, cupping your cheeks and examining your eyes intensely. “did you say you aren’t beautiful? what?” peter scoffed. “why would you ever think that?”

your covered his hands with your own, gently releasing his fingers from your skin. “nobody’s ever said that to me before, so.”

peter frowned as you pulled back from him, stepping closer to the mirror so you could examine yourself closer. what’s even the point of primer if your pores are still huge? the mascara said it was a precision wand, so why are my eyelashes so clumpy? oh god, my right eyeliner wing is at a different angle than my left one. i swear i plucked my eyebrows, so why do i still-

“what’cha thinking about?” peter interrupted your racing thoughts.

“uh, what shade of lipstick i should wear.” you gestured to your obscenely large lipstick collection. “it looks like a lot, i know, but if you’re being photographed outside, you have to go with a warm or cool tone depending on the weather, and if it’s an older audience, it’s safer to go natural, but depending on the dress code, you have to vary the pigmentation from a true nude to a “is that her natural lip color or is that makeup?” shade, and then you also have to consider lip liner and if you want it matte or glossy and-”

“wait, what?” peter eyed the lip products warily. “are you joking, or is this serious? because i genuinely can’t tell right now.”

you must’ve said that all out loud.

there was no point in lying now. “no, i’m being serious. i wish i wasn’t, though,” you laughed bitterly. “and i’m not sure what shade to wear tonight or if i should do lip liner, because defined cupid bows are out right now but i’m not sure if it’ll look like i’m too young and trend-obsessed if i go with the new looks or if going with something classic will only enhance my age and make me stick out in a bad way, y’know?”

peter gaped. “i- no, i don’t know. is this like, normal?”

you nodded glumly. “well, for me. my dad’s mutual friend’s senior associate has this daughter who’s like, perfect. i swear, she’s got this glowy skin and she says she doesn’t even have a proper skincare routine, and she’s not too tall or too short and she’s got the ideal measurements to be a model, and she just looks happy all the damn time and i just- god, i wanna cry every time i do- do this,” you choked, unable to hold back the frustration and tension that’d been building in the past hours you’d spent picking apart every insecurity and flaw that you had and trying desperately to cover up.

“w-what? no, don’t cry,” peter panicked, glancing around the room like dora would jump out with her talking backpack and illegally domesticated monkey and point to whatever he needed to fix the situation.

he hesitantly reached out to you, unsure of your comfort level, but your hand darted out to clutch his as soon as you’d seen it. your grip was tight and your palms were clammy, and peter’s brows pinched. “hey, d’you wanna look at me?”

you shook your head sharply, taking another shuddery gasp. “i’m ruining my mascara,” you mumbled, tilting your head until it was parallel with the floor so that your tears would fall freely and not touch your face.

you whimpered. “i don’t want you to look at me. i don’t want anyone to look at me. god, i wish i could just- just take an eraser and get rid of my entire face until it was just blank. if there’s nothing there, it can’t be good or bad. i’d rather have nothing than look like this.”

“baby, there’s no such thing as good or bad faces. they’re just different faces. like, i have this wonky eyebrow,” he chuckled, “and it isn’t good or bad, it’s just my wonky eyebrow. and i’ve got thin lips—if i have lips at all, i guess—and that’s not good or bad, that’s just the size of my lips.”

you sniffed snottily, but your breathing began to steady. peter took that as a sign to continue.

“and your dad’s mutual business partner’s best friend’s daughter probably feels the same way you do.”

you snorted disbelievingly.

“i swear! you said she wasn’t too short or too tall; well, maybe she stands in front of the mirror and thinks, ‘i wish i was shorter so i could wear high heels,’ even though anyone can wear high heels. maybe she thinks, ‘i’m trying to eat more so i can become more muscular, but whatever i do, my body won’t change?’ there are a million—no, infinite—ways that someone can find insecurity in themselves. but, y’know, people create all these beauty standards because they want you to feel insecure so you’ll buy their things. and once you achieve whatever messed-up standard they’ve set, they’ll just change it. then you’ll have to keep buying and buying and it’s this horrible, endless cycle.”

you pulled your hand from peter’s and dabbed cautiously at your eyes to dry your tears and avoid smudging your makeup. when you looked up at peter, your eyes were bloodshot and your eyelids drooped with exhaustion.

“hi, pretty girl.” peter smiled softly, placing two grounding hands on both your biceps. “there’s that face i’ve been missing.”

you scoffed with no real malice. “you saw my face literally ten minutes ago.”

“yeah, well i really like it, okay? and i felt unfairly deprived.” peter followed as your eyes flickered down at your shoes and you started bouncing nervously.

“hey, it’s just the two of us right now. forget about the lipstick flavors and stuff. what if we don’t go to the gala? we could just stay here and… exist, i guess. also, this shirt is also really itchy and the tag is digging into my skin, so i’d appreciate an excuse to skip. i can just tell mr. stark i vomited… uh, on your dress. ‘cause i got food poisoning. so we both couldn’t go.”

you covered your face, the tips of your ears warm from all the care and attention peter had been showering you with, but you ended up giggling at peter’s preposterous lie. “yeah, actually- exist sounds good. uh, what does that entail, exactly?”

“i have no clue. we just do… what we do. and the first thing i’m gonna do is lose the shirt. is it okay if i, y’know, take off my shirt?”

you tried not to look too eager as you nodded. “and i’m going to strip from the dress, if that’s okay. not like, strip. i’ll just- ugh, you know what i mean.”

peter was thankful he’d turned around so you couldn’t see the raging flush crawling from his neck to his ears. “uh huh, that’s good, yeah, sounds like a really good plan.”

he paused. “also, do you have, like, pants?”

“um, none that’ll fit you. d’you want a… blanket?”

“…yeah.”

you slipped into a large shirt—the kind that fell mid-thigh and hung loosely, not revealing the shape of your body, and you sighed in contentment. you tossed peter the blanket and threw yourself back onto the bed.

you patted the area next to you, and peter awkwardly maneuvered to your side while trying to cover himself for your sake. you laughed. “at this point, you don’t even have to cover up if you don’t want to. uh… exist, right?”

peter bit his lip to hide his smile, proud of you but also thankful that he wasn’t going to have to hold a towel around his waist for the next however-many hours he’d spend with you. “no good or bad bodies, right? you’re not going to judge me for my pasty european legs?”

you shook your head, amused. “no good or bad bodies. just different bodies, right? and for the record, i like your pasty european face. it’s… cute. very, um, lovable.”

you slipped under the covers, relishing the coolness of the fresh bedsheets and the feeling of your smooth legs against the comforter. you lifted the blanket so peter could crawl in and tried not to combust as you watched his delicious, mouth-watering muscled body which was average for an avenger tuck in beside you.

“i like your face too. it’s very, um, kissable,” peter grinned, speaking in the same tone as you had.

you pursed your lips together, suppressing a huge grin. “it’s ‘very, um, kissable?’” you breathed. your heart was pounding, and you assumed that with your close proximity and enhanced senses, peter was able to hear it.

“yep. very kissable. and i know i said that there’s no such thing as good features or bad features but i think that maaaaybe… maybe your face is the right face, y’know? for me.”

you laughed with a heavy breath from your nose and shook your head ever so slightly. “shut up, peter, and kiss my right face already.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

peter parker masterlist | main masterlist

taglist:

@yourallihave @bambamwolf87 @cowboibeepbeep @im-a-slut-for-fluff

#peter parker x you #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x stark!daughter #peter parker x you angst #peter parker x you fluff #peter parker hurt comfort #peter parker x reader hurt comfort #peter parker x avenger! reader #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst

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llittletingoddess · 10 months

Text

Borderline

"Have a good time. You know how to do it."

Part 1

Part 2

---------------------------------------

Genre: AU, Psychology, Drama, Angst, Character Study

Words Count: 1.5k

IMPORTANT: English is not my first language so there may be some mistakes, please be patient. Also note that it's based on real occurrences but do not claim to be accurate. Everything described is merely the author's point of view ♥

---------------------------------------

August 3, 2022, Los Angeles

Birthday - another absurd occasion to recall all the unnecessary things. At least, that's what James thought. He never liked his birthday because the day was permeated with hypocrisy. People who wouldn't even remember you suddenly decided to congratulate you as if nothing happened, and you had to respond to them in kind. Disgusting.

But the only thing worse than the fact of the birthday itself could be the party held in his honor. A pointless waste of money on all that extravaganza, just because he was a star, and he was obliged to do so, in order not to spoil his reputation among the Hollywood snobs. This time, the main reason for this circus was the promotion of Master Of Puppets, which took off after the episode of "Stranger Things," and consequently, the expansion of the audience. Of course, the younger generation should know who Metallica is - can modern metal boast of something similar? He had serious doubts.

But he absolutely disliked all of this. He had heard about the series in passing because Callie enjoys watching it, but the whole atmosphere weighed heavily on him. He would have preferred to spend this day with his family somewhere in a countryside restaurant rather than sitting here and observing these freaks.

Today he turned 59, and he couldn't believe it. It seemed like just yesterday he was getting drunk like a pig with Cliff and telling the entire bar what a jerk Dave Mustaine was, and now he was here, basking in the limelight, having earned hundreds of millions of dollars and toured the world, even Antarctica. His soul was still there, in the bar, with Cliff, the feud with Dave, and no worries. But reality - it's a harsh thing, and age takes its toll. Giving two-hour concerts, going all out, became increasingly challenging, the hearing declined after forty years of music, and where there was once a luxurious mane, now glimpses of baldness adorned his head. Coming to terms with the weakness of his own body was getting harder with the years, but this year - especially.

"Hey, buddy, happy birthday! I wish you another 59 years to live and another 40 years of concerts!"

"Ha-ha, thank you!"

Another forced smile and feigned joy. The room was filled with people, but he felt like the loneliest person on Earth. What was the point of this party, these gifts, when his soul was filled with emptiness?

Perhaps the only joy he had on this evening was his children. Cali and Castor seemed to be having a great time. With drinks in their hands, they chatted animatedly about something, barely acknowledging their father's presence.

Marcella didn't show up. Well, he didn't expect her to. They hadn't spoken for several months since their conflict over James's concerts and Marcella's move to Brooklyn, and the divorce only exacerbated the situation. James tried to reach out, calling her every day (because that's what Francesca said - she always decides what he should do!), but Sella simply wouldn't answer. Even today, on his birthday, she didn't call. How could she not understand that she shouldn't be involved with that guy?! It infuriated James. But thinking about the company he kept and what he himself was up to in the same years as his daughter - he grew calmer. He wants the best for her, but she doesn't understand that and gets upset. Just like her mother…

He was surprised by her call. It seemed to him that his decision to divorce had broken her heart - at least, he felt devastated alongside her, if not more - so why did she call him? To break her heart again? To curse him as vehemently as she did that day when he came home drunk after finishing recording the new album? To wish him the end of his career?

"Hey, James Hetfield. Happy birthday to you."

"Thanks, Fran."

"I hope you're happy now."

James remained silent. Those words hurt more than a razor blade when he tried to end his life in '83 because of the stolen equipment.

"Listen, I…"

"Don't say anything. It's your choice, and I respect it. Tell the kids not to drink too much."

He smirked slightly.

"Sure."

"Well… have a good time. You know how to do it."

"Fran, wait…"

But she hung up. Just like that? Without words of hatred and tears? "James Hetfield"… she always called him that when they had serious conversations, but this time, his name from her lips sounded cold. Too cold. Had she cooled off towards him in such a short time? When he was on tour for months away from her, their love burned with passion, and now - so easily and quickly, that flame they both fought for until the end - extinguished? Of course, you're an old idiot! You broke her heart, ruined her life, greedily took away 25 years of her youth as if you were an owner, and now you're wondering, "Has she cooled off towards me?"

James flinched. He hadn't even noticed when Cali and Castor approached him, slightly concerned about their father's state.

"Having a good time, Dad?" his son smirked. With his light hair, blue eyes, and being taller than James, he looked so much like him. When did he grow so much?

"Watch your words, Castor Virgil. Don't forget who you're talking to," James replied irritably. He didn't like raising his voice at the kids, but he wouldn't tolerate too much disrespect either. At least, his self-esteem, shattered by Francesca, still allowed him to handle parenting.

"Fine then," Castor shrugged.

"Don't mind him, Dad. Are you okay? You look tired," Cali, his first daughter, said. She was so much like Francesca… When the world first saw her, many commented on what a beautiful daughter he had, and he lovingly claimed that she was a copy of her mother. He was proud of Cali. Even though she didn't follow his footsteps into music, he considered Castor more suitable for that role - after all, patriarchy still prevailed in his mind. And besides, Castor was the one to carry on the family name and legacy, which meant a lot to him. But due to his own fabricated "importance" of Castor, he loved his girls no less. Sometimes even more. The father-daughter bond is on a different level, completely unlike the father-son connection. That's why Cali understood that something was off. James tiredly smiled and nodded in response. It didn't seem to satisfy Cali.

"If you don't want to talk, don't. It's up to you. Why did we even come here? We want to go to a bar nearby; this party is too stuffy. You don't mind, right?"

"I understand you perfectly. If I had the chance, I'd leave too at the first opportunity. Need some cash for drinks?"

"Dad, come on, we're not 15. We can take care of ourselves. Besides, Castor owes me a cocktail from our trip to Greece!"

"Hey, wait, we agreed on dessert!"

"Yes, but they didn't have my favorite one there, so you still owe me a cocktail, bro!" Cali said, playfully tweaking Castor's nose.

"Hey, cut it out!"

"All right, I got it. Go ahead already! Have a good evening!" James laughed, holding his hands up in front of him.

"Maybe you want to come with us?" Cali turned around and asked.

"Sorry, dear, but I need to stay here. All of this is organized for me. Besides, I doubt you'd enjoy hanging out with your old man," he sadly smiled.

"Whatever you want. If anything, call me, and I'll give you the address."

"Don't get too drunk!"

Cali laughed and left the hall with Castor. Now he was definitely alone. Depressed by the situation, puzzled by Francesca's call, angered by his son's tone - he wanted to leave. But there was nowhere to go. What did he need all that real estate in California for if he didn't feel at home here? He wanted to be in Wales, back home, with his family, with his wife. But he himself had given up on all of it. And now, all that was left was enduring this damn freak show with the popular series loved by teenagers.

Taking another glass of beer from a passing waiter, he drank about a quarter of it with annoyance. Damn it all! To hell with this promotion! To hell with the band! He had put it above his values too much, and where did that lead? To loneliness and emptiness. He didn't need millions of fans and crowds with eyes shining in stadiums.

He needed her.

The beer felt like water. Over the years of his bitter experience, he had gotten used to its taste, and it barely intoxicated him - only giving a slight relief. At least, that's what he thought. The evening had its way, and the alcohol in his blood eventually managed to numb his mind. Resting his head on his hand, he unknowingly started fixating on the back of a young girl passing by. She probably got in here through a "powerful acquaintance" who cleans the floors. Damn, how gracefully she moves her hips!

Yeah. Even the greatest people make the greatest mistakes.

#metallica #james hetfield fanfiction #borderline #vicky's writings

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camsthisky · 1 year

Note

For the Extravaganza: "Ladies love a man who's good with kids" from the third list down on your post. It'd be cool if you did something with Dick in the 17-21 age range!

I am still trying to figure out Robin!Jason's voice, and this was a perfect chance to practice!

“Alfred!” says Dick before Jason can get in a word of hello. “How the heck am I supposed to take care of a baby?!”

Jason blinks incredulously and tightens his grip on the manor phone he’d just picked up after its incessant ringing had started to annoy him. “Why do you have a baby?”

“Jason?” Dick asks. “Where’s Alfred?”

“Not here,” Jason says. “Again, Dickface, why do you have a baby?”

“Not important.”

Jason takes the cordless phone and sits up on the kitchen counter by the window, peering out into the late afternoon to see if he can spot Alfred pulling up in the driveway. “Kinda sounds important.”

“I need Alfred,” Dick says again. There’s a wailing sound, and yep. That’s a baby. DIck sighs in frustration. “Crap.”

“Been crying a lot?” Jason wonders.

“Yeah,” Dick says, and he sounds resigned to the fact that he’s not going to get Alfred. Jason’s the only one home right now, after all. It’s him or nothing. “I can’t get her to calm down.”

“Maybe she’s hungry.”

“I already tried feeding her.” Dick makes a shushing noise that does absolutely nothing to stop the crying. “I’ve tried everything I can think of. Her diaper is clean, she doesn’t want to eat, she won’t go down for a nap, and she keeps throwing away her pacifier. I have no idea what to do.”

It’s the first time Jason has ever heard Dick sound so lost. In the entire year he’s been living with Bruce, the times he’s seen or talked to Dick, the man has always seemed so self-assured.

It kind of throws Jason for a loop. Enough for him to start wracking his own brains for a solution. “Uh. Maybe she misses her mom? Or dad? Or whoever usually takes care of her.”

Dick is silent for a moment, before quietly, he says, “Maybe.”

“Are you babysitting?” Jason pushes. “Because a distraction might be the best option, if her mom isn’t available right now.”

“It’s my neighbor’s kid,” Dick finally says. “I heard her crying through the wall this morning, and when I went to go check it out, her mom was passed out in the kitchen. She’s at the hospital right now, and her partner is five hours away at the earliest. I’m all she’s got right now.”

Jason swallows past the sudden lump in his throat. “Bummer.”

Dick huffs an unamused laugh. “Yeah. Bummer.”

“Maybe I can head over there and help?” Jason offers.

It’s not like this would be the first time he’s ever watched kids before. He used to babysit his downstairs neighbors’ twin terrors for a while before his mom died.

There’s another uptick in crying on the other line, and Dick’s voice is muffled as he talks to the baby softly. After a minute the crying decreases in volume.

“Yeah,” Dick says. “If you want to, that’d be great. It’d be good to have another hand until her other mom gets here.”

“Okay,” Jason says. “Alfred should be back soon. I’ll ask him to drop me off.”

“Thanks, Jason,” says Dick. “I know I’m not around the manor a lot, but I still appreciate this. And I would come running if you ever asked me to.”

Jason shifts uncomfortably. “Yeah, well. Ladies love a man who's good with kids, right? I’m only doing this for practice. And for the baby, because you’re hopeless.”

Dick laughs, for the first time the entire call, sounding somewhat like himself. “I guess I am, yeah. Thanks, Jay. I’ll see you soon.”

“Bye, Dickhead.”

Jason hangs up to Dick’s uptick in laughter, and tries to pretend he isn’t as red in the face as he feels.

He jumps off the counter and starts to pack up his homework. Hopefully, Alfred will be here soon, and Jason can get to helping out his older brother. That’s what family does, right?

#cam answers #danddamage #dick grayson celebration extravaganza #camryn writes #i'm posting the shorter ones first while i work on the longer ones #longer fics mean longer time to edit #dc #jason todd #dick grayson

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auxiliarydetective · 3 months

Note

now for the chaos corner ( or part seven ) of the ask extravaganza, let's talk about my beloved little fennec fox felicity !! could i please ask after questions one, four, five, seven, and eight from that list of questions ?

can't wait to see the answers, and i hope you're doing well !! <3

Yeeessss, Lily, my sweet little baby!

1. What's an animatic about your OC / OTP that you've been spinning around your brain?

So, for Lily, I actually don't think I have a specific song animatic in mind for her, just general vibes. I feel like it would probably be an angsty one about childhood innocence and her relationship with Sanji, generally pretty happy and adorable and all, but occasionally you'll get scenes of her crying and throwing tantrums in fear... Delicious angst. Specifically, the main angst potential comes from the Whole Cake Island Arc. I know you know basically nothing about it, Dolly, but all of my OCs (except for Lux) have a deep and profound trauma from that arc, some more than others. That's because that arc is peak Sanji angst. Anyways, for some happy moments, I could see little montages of them training together, cooking together, Lily showing off her ballet skills, general crew shenanigans... It's about the contrast!

4. Give a full breakdown of one song on your OC or OTP's playlist!

*checks my Felicity playlist* Well, well, well...

I could cheat and do an instrumental one. I can’t do ones that are just there based on vibes because they're... well... just there for vibes. Most of them are just there for vibes, actually. So, we'll do this one:

"Have you heard from the news? / Clouds are falling from the sky / And everything that's pink is now blue."

... is about the scary things in Lily's life and how her world is coming apart, first because of Buggy, then because of Kuro.

"Have you heard from my mind? / We gotta find a way to cope / Or else things might not turn out so fine"

... is Lily's escapism, the way her brain cooked up the automatic response of age regression as a way to cope and make things fine again.

"And I start / To give in / To the sin / To the sin"

Lily puts up no resistance against this sort of escape but it's a "sin" because devil fruits are, well, devil fruits, and she's already a non-human freak without it, but even more so when it keeps changing her appearance in tune with her mind.

"And I start / To realize / Lullabies / La, la..."

... is Lily really falling into Little Space, the last two syllables being a sort of reference to baby speech - listen to how they sound in the song!

The chorus is filled with antitheses between childish, happy things and scary things you might encounter in life and that's also the world that Lily lives in. Sort of a childish bubble she has built for herself and the harsh pirate's life of death and fighting outside of it. There's one line that's special though and that's:

"Lollipops and cigarettes"

Lily, being half mink, has heightened senses, and she's also very emotional, so a lot of times, things just become too much for her. That's when she asks her dad Sanji for a "smoke break" which is code for "mom come pick me up i'm scared". Sanji is a smoker, so he has an excuse to just remove himself from a situation and go outside for a while and Lily copied that for herself. I think the first time she pulls this trick, it's and accident. She probably mumbles to herself "I think I need a smoke break" (copying Sanji, most likely) and everyone just looks at her as if their souls had left their bodies. But then Sanji smiles and says "You know, me too" and they leave and then this becomes actual code speak for them. There's only one thing that's an issue: Lily feels left out if Sanji is smoking and she isn't. She keeps bugging him about how it isn't fair until he gets her lollipops as a comprimise. Also fake cigarettes made of chewing gum or chocolate.

"Losing innocence is easy / But growing up is hard to face. / Give me something to hold on to / Or I'll slip right into little space"

The "losing innocence is easy" part is a reference to Lily losing her parents, an event that she can barely remember and never understood. In her eyes, they just disappeared, and she doesn't know what really happened or never quite pieces it together - because she was young, still is young and her mind refuses to recall what happened. So she just unconsciously refuses to grow up. And she doesn't have to. She's still so young but also she'd rather be this little kid again when her parents were still by her side and she doesn't want to face things like losing her second set of parents - ie. Kaya's - or getting kidnapped by Buggy or the chaos caused by the Black Cat Pirates. She needs someone or something to hold on to or she gets scared and slips into little space, basically becoming a nonverbal ball of fear.

"Remember all the rounds / When we sneaked in just to have a kiss / But now we need to keep the noise down"

In the original interpretation of the song, this is more of an allusion to puppy love vs sexuality, but in Lily's version, the last line is more related to violence and screaming, maybe also her sensitivity to noise because of her gigantic ears that she maybe wasn't so accutely aware of when she was younger.

"Remember sleepy eyes / When we see each other every day / But now this is our final goodbye"

This part is about Kaya and Lily who grew up like siblings for a long time. Granted, they are quite a few years apart, but Lily has very fond memories of just napping with Kaya and seeing her every day because they lived together, but her going out with the Straw Hats means she might never see her again - or at least not for a very long time. The "final goodybe" is also a reference to Merry's death, who was another of Lily's father figures and who was also part mink.

Chorus time! The final lines function the same way, contrasting fun, childish things and scary, adult things.

So yeah, the whole song might as well be interpreted as a look into how Lily's mind works!

5. What would your OC's tumblr blog be like?

I haven't decided on whether I want Lily to be twelve or thirteen yet, but I'm currently gravitating towards twelve and... yeah, she's too young for Tumblr XD

But if she did have a blog, I imagine it would be very chaotic. Ballet stuff, Barbie movies, children's shows, aesthetics, slime videos, kidcore, pastel stuff, Disney...

7. What's your OC's ___-core aesthetic?

Probably a soft and childish balletcore, mixed in with some more pastel-y kidcore. Also fennec fox. You cannot do Lily without a cute little fennec fox.

8. What are some TV Tropes that apply to your OC or OTP?

Oh, a lot! Here's just a little list: The Cheerful Child, Curious as a Monkey, Parental Substitute on multiple occasions (first Kaya's parents, then Merry, then Sanji!) and her and Sanji get a "Like a Son Daughter to Me" moment. She's also somewhat of an Innocent Prodigy when it comes to fighting and ballet, and Cheer Them Up with Laughter is how to stop her tantrums and breakdowns. Finally, Cheery Pink. That's it.

Sorry that this took so long. I had very little free time since Christmas and I've just been working on this whenever I had the time and frame of mind. Thanks so much for your ask!

▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄✼▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄ Taglist: @starcrossedjedis @oneirataxia-girl @daughter-of-melpomene @supermarine-silvally - let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!

#one piece oc #opla oc #oc: felicity #ask #evie's ask extravaganza

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sassyfrassboss · 2 years

Note

When I look back at all the noise and outrage in the Harkles favor surrounding the Oprah interview, I do wonder how much of it was manufactured and coordinated. First you had Oprah and her team who have very powerful connections across multiple media companies and likely tried to manipulate public opinion before and after the airing of the interview and bribe certain journalists to report a certain way. To me it would make sense that Oprah would go out of her way like this because this was her dream interview and she had a lot riding on it. Then you have Meghan who would be more than willing to shell out more money than usual on twitter bots and is crazy enough to write Sunshine Sachs the largest check they've ever seen to pull out the big guns for a full PR onslaught and extravaganza. Like having all her Sunshine Sachs connections such as Hillary Clinton lined up and ready with their statements and talking points. I think there was definitely a lot of bribing going on behind the scenes from both Oprah's team and Meghan and her team.

I think some of the hype and support was real but there seems to be very few who are actually supportive of Meghan or Harry when I read the comments on different interview clips. Most comments are mocking them for their first world problems or calling out the lies.

The best breakdown of the interview was Megyn Kelly on Piers Morgan's morning show before he quit.

She pointed out that Meghan was just so un-self-aware that it was shocking.

Sure a lot of people felt bad for her because she put on a decent performance but I think what hit most people was a 36 year old man complaining about being cut off from Daddy's money.

For many Americans that happens at the age of 18 or when people graduate from college. So yeah, a dude in his 30's whining about not having Daddy's debit card anymore was insane.

The PR lead up was intense but dwindled a day or two after the interview.

Meghan expected it to lead to bigger and better things for her and lots of chatter and it died out rather quickly. The Prince Philip died and she was toast.

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witchesoz · 1 year

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Fashion in Oz: the Good Witches (1)

To give a bit more credit to the Good Witches of Oz, who are unfortunately too often overlooked compared to their Wicked counterpart, I decided to do a breakdown of their costumes and outfit (similar to what I did for other fictional characters, such as Cruella). And we need to begin by going back to the original source: L. Frank Baum's "The Wizard of Oz" book. Above you can see a colorized version of one of the original illustrations of the book, by W. W. Denslow (the actual original drawings were not colorized, but black-and-white - this was clearly done later by someone else). Let's begin with the first of the two Good Witches of Oz: the Good Witch of the North (left unnamed in the books, but who got the name "Locasta" in the stage version, the 1902 extravaganza oversaw by Baum himself and so semi-canon to the Oz series).

Now, in Baum's original work here is the description given of the Good Witch's appearance and outfit: an old woman dressed in a white gown that hung in pleats from her shoulders, and wearing a white round hat that rises to a small point above her head, with little bells around the brims that tinkle sweetly as she moves. Over her dress, little stars are sprinkled that glisten in the sun "like diamonds". She is noted to be quite old, due to her face being "covered in wrinkles", her hair "nearly white" and her walking rather stiff. And, just like the Munchkins, she is noted to be smaller than what a normal adult in our world - she is roughly the same size as Dorothy, who is noted to be a "well-grown child for her age" (said age never actually precised). This is all we are given in the book. We also have the precision that if the Good Witch is dressed in white, it is because white is the color of witches in Oz, and given both the people of the Emerald City are said to wear the same "peaked hat" as the Munchkins, it seems the pointy hat with bells isn't so much supposed to be a twist on the witch' hat, rather than the traditional headwear of Ozians.

Denslow' interpretation stayed as close as it could be to the original description, and yet changed some details... For example, he did not drew any star on the Good Witch's dress, despite the narration insisting on it (and given the magical kiss she gives Dorothy leaves a glowing round mark on her forehead, the idea her dress has shining little stars fits a sort of "sparkling aesthetic" to her). The design of the dress is also slightly altered: while Baum talks of a dress "hanging in pleats from the shoulders", Denslow decided to rather had a sort of large, wavy collar - basically a form of ruff - and cuffs imitating the collar. This all gives the Good Witch a sort of ample, wavy, flowery design - that does fit the descriptions of her as practicing her magic through strange acrobatics (such as turning on herself on her left heel, or balancing her hat on the top of her nose): if you look at Denslow's other illustrations of her, when she moves and performs her magic he truly makes her dress move around her like waves or clouds. The final thing Denslow added, to really point out how she is the Witch of the North, is a grand staff in her head, with at the top a stylized "N". This detail, invented by Denslow and not present in Baum's original description, will actually be extremely important, as it will influence many of the future incarnations of Good Witches in Oz media.

This is another colorized version of the original drawings of W. W. Denslow for "The Wizard of Oz" - remember: the original pictures were conceived in black and white, not with color! The other Good Witch of Oz, the Good Witch of the South, also gets a description - AND A NAME! Glinda. Unlike the Good Witch of the North, Glinda is noted to look young. "Beautiful", she is noted to have a "rich red" hair that falls in flowing ringlets over her shoulders, kind and blue eyes, and finally a dress of pure white (again, in the original Oz book, white was the color of Witches). Nothing more - beside the fact that she is seen sitting on a throne of ruby in the middle of her palace, since she doubles as the Queen of the Quadlings. Now, Denslow also added to his drawings several details not told by Baum: such as Glinda wearing elbow-high gloves, or her dress being decorated with hearts at the bottom of the skirt and the end of her puffy, elbow-long sleeves, probably a detail added to show her kind and loving the Good Witch is. She even has little heart-jewels dangling from her belt. A detail that will however gain some importance in later Oz depictions of Glinda is the headwear Denslow gives Glinda. This is a fascinating and interesting headwear. Baum never says Glinda wears a crown of any sort, despite being the queen of the Quadlings, but Denslow did decide to show her royal status, while avoiding the traditional crown in favor of a more fantastical headset. But the fact this headset rises with a "point" at the top, and has dangling jewels around, seems to be also here to mimick the hat of the other Witches: the Good Witch's explicit pointy hat with little bells ; and the Wicked Witch of the West (who in Denslow's illustrations wear an immense pointy hat). Baum never describes Glinda as wearing such a hat, but Denslow seems to have wanted for all the Ozian witches to have a pointy headwear, and so decided to give to this not-crown some of the attributes of the other Witches hat. (At least, it would be my theory)

Unlike the Good Witch of the North, that makes one brief cameo in "Road to Oz" and then is completely forgotten by Baum, Glinda became a recurring helper and secondary character in the Oz series, appearing in many other books of the series. And yet... Baum never described her again. Every time she appears, she just... is there. As if the original portrait of her in the first book should be enough. And yet, Glinda throughout the Oz books truly evolved in terms of appearance. This evolution began in "The Marvelous Land of Oz" (of which the picture above is an illustration) and went all the way to Baum's last Oz book, "Glinda of Oz" (I suggest you check the cover of the book to appreciate the visual evolution). Why this change? Because Denslow was replaced as an illustrator by John R. Neill, and Neill, while a long-time collaborator of Baum and becoming an "official" Oz illustrator, also changed massively details of the original book. For example, Dorothy as illustrated by Denslow (and later colorized) had long brown hair (a depiction that became famous thanks to the MGM movie) - but Neill' idea of Dorothy was for her to have short, blond hair. And among the many changes Neill brought to Oz was the one of Glinda's appearance. Gone are the red and curly hair falling over her shoulders - Neill draw Glinda with straight, black hair that usually was kept together by some sort of strange hair-net. The strange jeweled headwear of Denslow got replaced by a crown - but very tiny and tall, a small slender crown above Glinda's head (as seen above), that with time stretched and thinned out ; and even fused with the hair-net holding Glinda's head, to become the bizarre helmet-thing the Sorceress ends up wearing on the cover of "Glinda of Oz". Similarly, the "simple white dress" Baum originally thought about got usually ditched for more imposing, "royal" and fashionable dresses, various colorized as white, red or pink (to fit the red of the Quadling country) - but then a certain "simplicity" was regained with "Glinda of Oz", where the dress became more simple and body-fitting in appearance. Probably to match the fashion of the time - Neill was actually concerned with his illustrations always trying to match a sort of "modern" set of fashion and aesthetics, which notably explains why Dorothy wasn't dressed like a farmer girl anymore but like a little 10s-20s-30s fashionista. In fact, it is quite strange to see that on the cover of "Glinda of Oz", Neill decided to return to a design similar to what Denslow gave to the Good Witch of the North, with a very large and wavy collar on the white dress - though instead of making it look like an old-fashioned ruff, Neill lowered the collar so the neck and the shoulders could be visible, making it more... "modern" I guess?

#oz #wizard of oz #the land of oz #good witches #glinda #the good witch of the south #the good witch of the north #fashion #witches #dress #outfit #john r. neill #w. w. denslow #fashion in oz

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