#Savant Sky

[electricsakura16]

Since Savant's HEX II is released, here is the 2024 Reference Sheet of my 2nd, yet oldest Skyverse OC, Skyvant.

[aimfor-theheart]

to break first

|| mel medarda x reader, jayce talis x reader, viktor x reader || E/18+ || messy dynamics/hurt/comfort || wc: 6k || ao3 ||

minors and ageless blogs dni, 18+

Your lovers are strange, demanding types.

a/n: idk man. but this revived my writing so. pls take it. dividers by @/cafekitsune

tags: messy dynamics, light smut/smut mentioned and implied, implied rough/hate sex, some hurt/comfort, ends on a hopeful note. not beta read/edited.

You've never liked Jayce much.

And you might just be the only person he doesn't like, either.

He plays nice, though, especially around Viktor. You think Jayce has teeth that he tries to hide, but you catch the flash of them from time to time. He smiles at you and it doesn't reach his eyes. It's just shy of contempt.

It makes your grin cheshire and sharp. You like watching him squirm. You like watching him wrestle with his distaste for you, try to keep his teeth hidden. Especially here, at this gala, all gold and sparkling and pristine, for all the world to see.

Bubbling rosé is bright and fruity on your tongue. You're shoulder to shoulder with Viktor, the two of you half-miserable together, stuffed into formal wear and ripped from your respective labs and studios. Which is why Jayce lingers; he's hovering in that annoying way of his. Bumbling a little. He's trying to make Viktor feel more at home but—

You have something Jayce doesn't.

Only you can do that.

You're Viktor's childhood friend, thick as thieves and twice as inseparable. You're an artist from the Undercity—a painter, a poet, a musician. An artistic genius, the world claims, an artistic savant. And one of the rare, lucky few who has been exalted and raised above your station to be paraded around Piltover like some trophy of success from their lowest. It's mostly Viktor's fault, you claim—the moment Heimerdinger found him, he also accidentally found you.

"Ah, if it isn't one of the most brilliant and groundbreaking artists of our generation." A smooth, easy voice floats through your thoughts. You turn your head to find Councilor Medarda, swathed in what could be a starry sky of silk and gold.

She's even more beautiful in person somehow; if you were to paint her, she'd be all easy, graceful lines, curved and long. A lily stem. The arch of a tiger.

"Just the person I was looking for." She muses.

"Me?" You balk, at the same time that Jayce gaps, "Them?!"

You swing your gaze to glare at him and even Viktor wrinkles his nose. Jayce tries to clear his throat, clear the mistake.

Councilor Medarda raises a brow at Jayce, but then her eyes flicker to you, honing in on you. Hazel and gold and reflective; a kaleidoscope of color. And with such—intensity. You feel it in her. Thrumming. "Yes, you." She says smoothly and she smiles in the elegant way of royalty; perfect and mysterious.

"Are you sure you have the right person, Councilor Medarda?" You joke, "you know I'm just—"

"I'm certain. And please—call me Mel. I'd love to commission you for several art pieces to be displayed in the council chambers."

Viktor whistles a little, impressed, though you can tell it's a little dry.

(He both rambles and rants about Councilor Medarda from time to time and you can never tell if he adores her or resents her.)

Jayce startles at this, but again, he tries to play it off. He places his hand on her lower back, "I didn't know the council chambers was looking to display art."

Mel allows his hand to remain, but she tilts her chin up and her eyes flash somewhat—quick, sharp. There's a silent conversation there that you can't decipher.

But you can tell there is something more than just coworkers happening between them.

"I'm looking to display art in the council chambers." Mel then says.

Jayce looks away, cowed somewhat, tail tucked between his legs in a way that makes you smile.

Mel drifts from Jayce's hands, offering her arm to you, "will you walk with me? I'd love to discuss what I have in mind."

If only to steal her away from Jayce, you finally peel yourself away from Viktor's side and the wall. Your shoulder, where it was touching his, goes cold. But Mel's arm is warm as you twine it around yours.

She draws you away from the scientists, into the fray of swirling, dazzling people.

You glance over your shoulder only once and catch Jayce's eyes, and let your smile curl into something a little smug, almost vicious; baring your teeth as if to gloat at his own, still tucked behind his lips.

***

"Mel's an artist." You say to Viktor, offhand. "A good one, too. You should see her paintings—"

Viktor sighs heavily, snatching one of the little tools that you'd been fiddling with out of your hands. "You sound like Jayce."

You wrinkle your face in disgust, reaching back for the tool and grappling with him a moment for it. You press all against each other, squabbling, before you win out and take it back from him. He stares at you, almost in some form of a glare and you stare back, watching his eyes, dark in the low light of the lab. He glances at the tool in your hands like he might try to take it back, and when he moves, you move faster, and hold it out of his reach.

"Are they together?" You ask.

He gives up on the tool.

Then, he lifts his shoulders in some form of a crooked shrug, eyes going skyward. "One can only assume."

"She's out of his league." You sigh, throwing your weight back in the chair in despair.

Viktor snorts at that, returning to his work, "I'm sure few are in league with Councilor Medarda."

His voice is dry. A little brittle.

"I don't know what you have against her." You then venture, speaking more to the ceiling, returning to fiddling with the tool. It twists in your fingers, the sound of metal whirling and softly grinding.

"I have nothing against Councilor Medarda." He says too evenly.

"You know, I've never been able to tell if it's contempt or adoration you have for her." You continue, as if he hadn't said anything to contradict you. "But either way, she gets under your skin."

"She does not—"

"Are you jealous? She took your big, dumb partner away?" You press, twisting and twisting away at the tool.

"No—" Viktor says sharply, but it rings with a note of truth. It's not quite that then.

You pause. And then.

You crack your eye open, "I think she likes me."

Viktor pauses now too, metal clinking quietly with the sudden stop of his work again. He knows that tone of your voice. His face pulls; distaste. Frustration.

(Jealousy.)

His speech is slow as he tries to parse through what to say, "Councilor Medarda is charming and—"

"She invited me to dinner." You say and now you're watching him carefully, "at her personal suite. Just us."

Viktor rounds on you, "you're going to get yourself into trouble."

You can't help but smile, slow and amused, "I feel like it's good for the art—fool around with a politician—"

"You know, I have always wondered if you would learn your lesson," Viktor continues over your monologuing about drama and passion and politics, "—maybe this time, you'll finally learn it."

He snatches the tool from your hands and throws it down on his desk.

"I love learning." You chirp innocently and he shakes his head, face flushed with passion.

He looks at you again when he can, shakes his head some more, some of the irritation fading from his features. He never stays mad at you for long; doesn't have it in him. Besides, he causes his own trouble. Doesn't learn his own lessons. And when the dust settles, the two of you are still here, beside each other. The artist and the scientist, making messes, breaking things—all for some higher purpose only the two of you have ever understood.

(You've loved him your whole life. Sometimes, you think you carry half of the other's ribs inside one another. He must have twelve of yours, and you must have twelve of his—)

You lift your foot, nudging his calf beneath the desk with it, then up to place it in his lap. An olive branch, of some kind. Your affection is unsurprising to him and he sighs. He drops his hand to your ankle. He squeezes.

"She's going to eat you alive." Viktor finally warns.

"One can only hope."

A laugh startles out of him, rough and raspy, before it dissolves into coughing.

You lurch up to give him water, sitting near you, and bring the glass to his lips on reflex, like you used to as children. And on reflex, he drinks—he doesn't try to take the glass from your hands right away or push you away. Instinctively, you care for him, and instinctively, he lets you.

(You think you're the only one he'd ever allow to do this, born out of years of pressed side to side in the same bed, listening to him weather the nights. Born out of years of your love and stubborn care for him.)

After a moment, he lifts his hand and slowly replaces yours.

You hover over him. He sets the glass down. The water is almost gone. You'll replace it for him before you leave the lab.

He settles back into his chair, eyes returning to the pieces in front of him; all the odd metal scattered like little silver stars in front of him against a vast, dark sky. He picks up one, and then another, and tries to fit them together.

Then another. And another.

You watch him twist and turn, put the puzzle together.

He says, "Lately, I feel as if—" his fingers are careful, almost shaking, as he tries to create something of the scattered, broken pieces, "everything is quite fragile. And it's all just going to—" he presses a little too hard, and the metal all splinters apart, clattering back to the desk, "break. At any given moment."

After a moment, he looks up at you, still hovering over him, "I fear you're heading towards a breaking point."

You hum a little.

"What is it you scientists say?" You ask, running your fingers through his dark hair, thick and tousled. You twirl a strand around your finger, let it fall;

"It has to break first, before you can discover anything."

***

You'd say Mel Medarda is a wolf in sheep's clothing, but she doesn't feign anything so harmless or lost as a sheep.

You do think she's—

A little like Jayce, where she hides her teeth. But where Jayce irritates you because he's certainly trying to seem better than he is, or more harmless than he can be, Mel does so with intention. Mel hides her teeth to lure you closer. She doesn't pretend she doesn't have them; she waits until you're in range before you catch a glimpse of them.

And by then, well. It's too late.

You realize this over dinner, as she laments about what art she'd like from you and she's adamant about not censoring you.

(You're known for you controversy; whether in your physical art, your poetry, or music. Once pulled to the light of the Upper City, you refused to let them defang you. Where Jayce pretends he doesn't have teeth, you bare yours proudly, and sometimes wish you could tear the tender parts of Piltover open.

You strive to do it with your art. And while applauded in some vague capacity, you are also kept on a tight leash. Your patrons are warily supportive of you. Your commissions are strict. You're treated the way you think a wild animal is; with utmost care and fear and awe.)

In fact, her only rule for you, is to not hold back.

Which, given the growing tension between the Upper and Lower Cities, you realize this cannot only be from the goodness of her heart or for the integrity of art but—

You tilt your head and consider her.

"Am I a political move, Mel?"

She smiles in that enigmatic way of hers, her teeth flash, "isn't all art?"

You narrow your eyes, "perhaps. I wonder of it's effectiveness when it's employed by the people it often critiques." You lift your chin and pretend to be hurt—or perhaps, mask your hurt within dramatics to make it seem ironic, "and here I thought you really liked me—"

"I do." Mel assures, "I've admired you a great deal from afar. And getting to know you, your mind, it's—" she considers her words, "it's been nothing short of mesmerizing. Astonishing."

She sounds sincere. But you wonder if she always sounds that way.

She can tell she hasn't convinced you because you've never been able to mask your emotions well, so she leans forward and says, "unfortunately, everything I do is a political move, whether I'd like it to be or not. Both can be true—" she says, "I can adore you. And I can also need you to make a public point, wield you like my own elegant weapon."

"Artists make for disobedient weapons, usually." You say.

She laughs a little at that and agrees, "True." And then she lowers her voice, looks at you through the fan of her dark lashes in such a way that seizes you—arrests you, holds you right there, caught, in her heady gaze;

"But I don't need you to be obedient."

"I can never tell if you're trying to seduce me or persuade me." You blurt out, the words running from your mouth like a rabbit from a wolf. Your desire bursts from you like frightened birds taking to flight, like most of what you feel does, all of it spilling out of you in a gush of rawness.

She stands gracefully and again, you think of how you'd draw her—how you'd capture her in a poem or a song. The sharp curve of her waist, the predatory grace she carries effortlessly. You think her song is a croon from the deep part of your chest. You think her poem looks like an hourglass on the page and she slips from your fingers as easy as time does, too.

She rounds the small table to your side.

You look up at her. Your heart kicks up into a quick dance.

She brings the back of her knuckle to your jaw and gently—with all the carefulness in the world, strokes you.

(She touches you the way one does a bird, as if they know it's fragile. Perhaps as if they know it might fly away.

Or maybe she touches you the way one does an animal they're not sure of; will you bite? Will you lean into the touch?)

"Both can be true." She finally answers.

When she kisses you, it's fiercer than you're expecting; a lightning strike, a blow to the heart.

Your teeth come up against hers.

She gasps when you drag her further down to you, greedier than she's ever known, meeting her fierceness with your own, like the clashing of blades, or the destruction of stars.

And you think, if you don't want obedience, then I'll show you.

I'll show you.

***

"What are you playing at?"

Jayce's voice is a vicious little hush in the caverns of the council chambers. Mel has just left you after peaking over your shoulder to view the preliminary sketches.

You lift your head and blink up at Jayce slowly, dragging yourself from your sketch; from your world of art.

(It sets his teeth to grinding because Viktor makes that same look, when he's so deep into his work and Jayce disturbs him. It's a face he finds endearing on both of you, unfortunately. He imagines your minds are in heaven and he's selfish enough to drag you both back down to earth.)

"What do you mean? For the art piece?" You ask, glancing down at your lap, at the series of gestures and lines that you've been lost in. Maybe you're feigning innocence a little. But you want him to say it, if he's going to pick this fight.

Jayce's eyes flash like the too-hot part of the flame.

You have to bite back a smile.

Come on, you think wildly, say it. Let's fight. Here in the chambers, where you try so hard to be their golden boy.

"What are you trying to get out of Mel?" He asks and it makes you laugh outright, because he's dancing around what he really wants to ask.

Your laugh echoes in the hall, bouncing off all this marble and gold. It's out of place here, too loud, too free.

"The better question is what she's trying to get out of me." You say, "do you think I have it in me to manipulate the Mel Medarda?"

He goes quiet at that.

"Are you doing this to get back at me?" He asks after a moment and it's so close to what he wants to ask, so close to what he really wants to talk about.

"She kissed me first." You answer. "Have you had this conversation with her?"

You can tell by the shadow of uncertainty that passes over his face that he hasn't. You stand, easily setting your sketches and pencils aside, and drift nearer to him.

"Oh," you hum, "you didn't know. She didn't mention some plan of seduction to you? Maybe she really does like me."

He rounds on you so sharply that you are genuinely surprised. You gasp when your back hits the wall and he's got you caged in, a snarl on his lips and you finally get to see those teeth of his—

"You just always have to push me, don't you? In all the years I've known you, you've only ever tried to get under my skin. I tried so hard, for so long, for Viktor's sake to get along with you." He says lowly and distantly, you think, does he cage in Mel like this? With his big arms and broad chest? Or does she have him on a tight leash, underneath her?

"This time, I didn't mean it. Surely, you understand—" you say slyly, "when she comes onto you like that, all honey-voiced and half-lidded. She's hard to resist, isn't she?"

The grip he has on your biceps tightens to a point of pain—he'll bruise you. You'll be tender there, where his big hands gripped you, and it only makes you smile.

"Stop it." He snaps.

But you can't help yourself now, because once you've got something between your teeth, you've never been able to let it go;

"I just want to know if she kisses me the same way she kisses you? Does she play nice with you? She's quite fierce with me—"

When Jayce kisses you, it's a crush of aggression.

You laugh into his mouth wildly as he shoves you harder against the wall, teeth mean in the tender part of your bottom lip so that your laughter melts into a groan of pain. Of pleasure.

You claw at his back and wonder if Mel does, too.

You fight and hiss and snarl, show him your teeth when he sinks his into the fluttering pulse at your throat. You try to draw blood. You think he tries to bruise.

And well, you always wanted to see his teeth—

Just never thought you'd end up with a ring of their mark on your neck.

***

You're not really sleeping—nights are long. Days are longer. You're in the studio too much. This art piece is strangling you, wrestling with you and you're losing. Your lovers are strange, demanding types. Jayce comes to you at his lowest, and Mel at her highest. She licks the wounds Jayce leaves on you, purrs about how good you're being for her, goads you into putting up more of a fight that she likes to quell. She asks, have I stolen your bite? Are you going soft on me? Until you try to wrestle with her, too.

Mel subdues you the way snakes do—constricts and tightens and puts all that pressure on you until you just burst.

Until you go slack in her grip.

Jayce takes his anger out on you and he's not so cunning or delicate as her. You think Jayce struggles with you the way he must with his hammers, with high heat and all his strength.

Your art is starting to look like pieces of them; brutal and brilliant and cunning and beautiful. Tricky to capture, even more difficult to mesh together.

You're covered in paint when Viktor comes to visit you, frustrated with the canvas in front of you, which you think you'll end up scrapping again.

(This is the fourth one. You've been trying to fit all the components and pieces together but none of it's working, all of it's a mess. Splintered apart on the canvas. It looks like a disaster on the page.)

"Have you eaten?" Viktor asks as he comes to stand behind you. He gazes at the canvas n front of you.

You sigh heavily. "Have you?" You return.

He snorts at that, "No. I'm coming from the lab and thought I'd check on you—Mel mentioned you were here."

He pauses and then, "that you'd been here. For awhile now."

You hear the layers in his voice; the worry, but then the—

Irritation? Disdain?

"Are you asking me to dinner?" You say instead, dashing the canvas with a sudden great, horrible X. It's your meager attempt at some sort of joke or flirting, but your voice is perhaps too thin for it. You stare at your canvas, now dripping with that great X, the paint slipping down and marring it further.

When you turn to look at Viktor, he regards you warily. He glances at the canvas you've just ruined, and then back to your face.

He takes in your appearance; your disheveled hair and the paint all over your clothes and skin. And then his eyes skip down to your throat, to your arms. All marked up and bruised, unhidden and worn proudly here, in the safety of your art studio.

"Should I be concerned?" Viktor asks instead and you've always loved his bluntness. His lack of tact is like coming home. It's a relief, when you're constantly with Mel and Jayce lately, who talk in riddles and niceties and flowered language that hides their intentions or feelings.

There is a bitterness in Viktor's voice that you know well, too.

"About?" You prod.

"I'm no fool." Viktor answers, "I know you're sleeping with Councilor Medarda."

"Is that all you know?" You return, tilting your head.

"Is there more to know?" Viktor asks, eyeing you.

"Jayce hasn't said anything?"

You watch a strange shadow pass over Viktor's face as he slowly comes to the natural conclusion that you've lead him to. He's right, he is no fool. And then you watch his eyes catch fire, catch jealousy.

"I warned you—" he starts, suddenly.

"And I told you, it's good for the art—" You joke.

"Obviously it isn't!" He snaps, gesturing to the canvas behind you, ruined and glaring at your back. And then he heaves out a rough, agitated breath, dragging a hand through his hair. "Do you ever think of consequences?" He demands.

"Sure," You say, "I'm exactly where I want to be."

"You know, they are my colleagues. What am I supposed to do if—?!"

You laugh at that, enough that it startles him out of his beginning tirade. He comes up short and his shoulders bunch with tension as he glares at you.

"Is something funny?" He hisses.

"Your colleagues?" You repeat, "that's all they are to you?"

"Well—yes, technically." He stumbles on his words here.

"Are you jealous, Viktor?" You ask. "You don't have to be."

"I'm not jealous—" He refutes, even as his cheeks grow ruddy. And for a moment, you could be twelve with him again, his face flush as he looks at you after you'd kissed him for the first time because he'd never kissed anyone before. Or twenty-two and drunk, kissing one night under the stars when you felt so lost and disorientated in the Upper City—just wanted to feel like yourself again.

Or now, at thirty-two, staring at the man you've loved your entire life and whatever mess you've made out of everything.

You reach out and touch his cheek, glowing with color, and at first he winces away, but when you persist, he relaxes. He presses his cheek to your open palm and looks at you; raw and frank and so Viktor that you can't help the faint smile that touches your lips. Even as he frowns at you.

"What are you meddling with?" Viktor murmurs, turning his face into your cupped hand. You feel the faint brush of his lips, a little dry, and soft. Warm.

"Apparently our political landscape." You respond and that at least gets a laugh from him. You feel it against you and some spark shimmers through you, shudders and opens itself to you.

(Your desire for Viktor is something always with you, ambient, perhaps dormant, that always resurfaces like the great fins of some horrible, huge monster in dark waters. Your desire for Viktor is a symptom of your love. You've never know what to call it except that, except his.)

"Have I upset you?" You ask now as his laughter fades, and with it his amusement.

He sighs deeply and you feel his breath against your skin. You draw nearer. He leans back onto his crutch only slightly, only for a moment, before he allows you further into his space.

"I don't—" He struggles for the words before admitting, "yes, somewhat. For some reason."

"Are you feeling neglected?" You ask and try very hard to keep your amusement out of your voice, lest you irritate him further. He's always had a jealous streak in him, even as kids. If you made another friend, he would pout until you draped yourself over him and showered him in your attention again.

Even your previous relationships had bred some sort of jealousy in him; he's never liked any of your partners.

(It's so endearing to you that you have to tuck your teeth into your own lip and hum a little.)

You lean towards him, ducking your head so that your nose dips to brush against the line of his jaw. You feel his body shudder more than you see it. His breath goes tight. Your eyes flicker, a flash in the sun-spun light of your art studio;

"Do you want me to kiss you the way Jayce kisses me?" You murmur, your lips hovering over his. You watch his face gutter, lashes fluttering against his cheeks. His breath goes shallow.

"Or would you prefer Mel?" You murmur, just before you close the distance and kiss him with a certain fierceness, a meanness that you don't usually have with him. He stumbles back a little with the force of it and your hand that had been holding his cheek, slips into the hair at the nape of his neck.

A groan startles out of him when you tighten your hand into a fist and pull.

You part from the kiss, panting a little, and he looks down at you, eyes molten gold and burning.

You're about to kiss him again, when he murmurs, "I want—" he swallows hard, "I want you to kiss me the way you do—I want—"

You press back into him instantly, suddenly overwhelmed with the thought, with the notion that his desire, his jealousy—

You kiss him like you always have, overeager and desperate and messy. You urge him backwards, towards your workbench, all cluttered with paints. His crutch clatters against the ground uselessly as you grab for each other. You knock over a jar of brushes half-haphazardly placed on the floor.

You're overwhelmed with the thought that his jealousy might've been for you, too.

When he braces his hand against your work bench, he knocks over a cup of paint. You laugh into his mouth as you paw at his stupid, perfectly buttoned vest. When he touches you again, he stains you blue—and later red and violet. Burnished gold and paint so silver it makes the stars look dull.

A mess, he tsks, impossibly fond, as he looks at you and himself and the work space.

At all that you'd done.

***

"You've been pulling strings," Mel says as you lay in her lap, letting her pet and stroke you. Her fingers dance over the ridge of your brow.

You blink up at her slowly, eyes fluttering. "Shouldn't that be my line?" You ask.

"I'm not naive to the way you've been pulling our strings." She muses, fingers tumbling into your hair. She's gentle here, careful as she cards her way through your hair, her fingers nimble.

"Pulling strings is a far too sophisticated thing to call it." You snort and lean into her touch like a cat, preening a little.

"What would you call it?" Mel asks and the smile she wears is less of a mystery to you now, and you can tell there's a fondness to it.

(She does really like you—she is really being sincere, you've learned.)

You think about this for a long moment; you toy with saying a fucking mess. Or digging my own grave. But neither feel quite so full—while true, in many ways, there leaves little room for—

Well, this.

The way she holds you. The cat's curl of her smile, pleased and mischievous. Her fingers, gentle and coaxing, urging you to unfurl and bloom.

Or Viktor's rasping laugh that you can pull out of him. The fondness you hold for him like a pearl held inside a clam, growing and glowing. The way you drape yourself all over him, and he accepts it as easy as the day accepts the sun, or the night accepts the moon into its skies.

And even Jayce and the strangled back-and-forth that the two of you dance; it's still yours. It's still his. And the way he cups your cheek admist the violence or how he let's no one speak ill of you in front of him.

(Or the way Jayce and Viktor's minds work together, or how tactical Jayce and Mel can be; sharpened like daggers and twice as pretty. Or the creativity you pull out of Mel, allowing her to see the world like a boundless piece of art. Or the way Viktor's science influences your art; how your art influences his science. The fierceness you bring out in Jayce—the passion he brings out in you.)

It doesn't quite account for all the parts that make you burn and grow and shake out your great, big wings to fly.

Finally, you say, "it feels like I'm trying to find the melodies and harmonies and how they mesh—or the composition of a painting, or the feeling of a poem, but some of the words are still missing. It feels like when I chase art and try to break it open, to reveal what it wants me to learn—or show me."

"Have you figured it out yet?" She asks and she's genuinely curious, almost quiet in her desire to know.

At that, the door creaks open and there are several hushed whispers before Jayce suddenly strides into the room with all the false confidence in the world. Viktor looks sheepish behind him.

You sit up sharply, trying to detangle yourself from Mel.

"I told you they were here—" Viktor hisses to him, "and we shouldn't—we shouldn't be here."

Jayce isn't listening, though, and he's clearly inflating himself to get out, "I've come on important business of the council."

Mel raises her brows and throws you a sideways glance. She then says, "then come in, Councilor, since it's so important that you've come to my personal quarters. Unannounced."

Jayce at least has the good sense to look a little sheepish now, too. You can't help the laugh that springs out of you.

He throws you a dark look before clearing his throat.

"Councilor Haskel and Salo are seeking to strike down the art deal." Jayce announces and your heart drops a little, sinks in your chest.

You look at Mel. She purposefully keeps her face a mask of coolness. She rolls her shoulder briefly, which is your only tell of irritation or concern.

"Come in, Jayce." Mel finally says, "and you, too, Viktor. Shut the door behind you."

Both wander into the space and it's such a surreal moment, all four of you, for once, in the same room, that you can't help but laugh again.

Mel sighs in a way as if to say, I suppose this would happen eventually.

Jayce and Viktor can't quite look anyone in the eye and they both take uneasy seats int he living room.

Again, you feel like laughing—you're not sure what all the trepidation is for. Each of them have you seen you naked; you have seen them naked.

"What's their angle?" Mel asks, ignoring both Jayce and Viktor's shyness.

Jayce clears his throat, "they don't think it's worthwhile to support an artist from the Undercity at this time."

You wince and Jayce adds, "their words, not mine."

"Well, that won't do." Mel tsks and she suddenly moves to stand, graceful as ever, her robes trailing in a wave of silk and the smell of lillies. She likes to pace when she's thinking, and she pads over the window, to look out at the city.

Eventually, she says, "we'll need a grander plan. Something they can't refuse."

"What are you thinking?" Jayce asks.

She turns and all around her, she's doused in gold light, glowing in the evening sun as if she was born to it. "Perhaps combining some science with it." Now she looks at Viktor, "something symbolic to the current advancements with Hextech, perhaps."

Viktor looks at you, then back at Mel, "I can do that."

"Jayce, I need you to talk to the other Councilors and be sure they're not swayed by Haskel or Salo." She then adds, "and I want more publicity around it—and around our artist and scientist."

Our artist.

Our scientist.

"Ah—" Viktor starts, "I don't want to be in the public eye."

Our, our, our.

"It'll put pressure on Haskel and Salo if the people are behind you both, too." Mel presses gently, though her gaze has softened on him; she's sympathetic to his desires.

To assure him, you chirp, "I can do all the talking."

"Not sure that's our best idea." Jayce remarks.

"I am certain I can name several worse ideas of ours." You quip without thinking, and then you toss one of Mel's throw pillows at him; the beautifully embroidered one that's likely far too expensive and made from the rarest threads.

It hits him with a dull thud. And for a moment, he's shocked. The room is silent.

Still, your heart sings our, our, our.

But then Viktor snorts, before breaking out into his low, soft chuckle. And then the twinkle of Mel's giggles, coupled with your own laughter that bursts from your chest like a bird taking to flight.

And Jayce watches a moment, all of you laugh and smile, and if you could paint him in this moment, you would—

A little awe-struck. Tender around the edges, burnished gold. Breath stolen from him.

(Oh, he does really like you, too. All of you.)

But then laughter rumbles from him, too. And the tension slips from all of you, drains from your bodies with each bubbling sound.

And all of them together—finally together—are the melody you've been looking for, the words you couldn't place. The color on the canvas that finally brings it all together.

It's all the broken pieces like a mosaic, finally put together to create something whole.

And it's all ours, you think, the sun a flare of light and beauty bursting through the room, bathing all of your favorite people in it's gold and glory;

It's all ours.

[pompadourpink]

Literal French expressions

À deux - at two

À la + n. - in the style of

À la carte - at the menu

À la mode - in fashion

Amateur - lover

Après-ski - after skying

À propos - about

Armoire - wardrobe

Art nouveau - new art

Au naturel - plain

Au pair - at the peer

Auteur - author

Avant-garde - before guard

Bête noire - black beast

Blasé - jaded

Bon appétit - good appetite

Bon voyage - good journey

Boutique - shop

Buffet - credenza

Bureau - office

Canapé - couch

Carte blanche - white card

C'est la vie - that's life

Chauffeur - warmer (n.)

Chef - leader

Cliché - picture

Clique - gang

Connaisseur - "knower"

Coup d'état - blow of state

Coup de grâce - blow of mercy

Coup de foudre - blow of lightning

Couture - sewing (n.)

Cul-de-sac - ass of the bag

Début - beginning

Débutante - beginner

Déjà-vu - already seen

Dénouement - untying

Dossier - file

Double entendre - double hear

... du jour - of the day

Eau de toilette - washing water

Eau de vie - life water

Encore - again

Ennui - boredom

En route - in road

Ensemble - together

Entourage - people surrounding you

Entrepreneur - starter (n.)

Essai - attempt

Esprit de l'escalier - spirit of the stairs

Étiquette - label

Exposé - exposed

Façade - frontage

Faux pas - fake step

Femme fatale - deadly woman

Film noir - black movie

Fin de siècle - end of century

Flâneur - "stroller"

Femme - woman

Folie à deux - madness at two

Foyer - fireplace, home

Gamine - female kid (casual)

Gauche - left

Gendarme - person of weapons

Je ne sais quoi - I don't know what

Laissez-faire - let (someone) do (imperative)

Laissez-passer - let (someone) pass

L'appel du vide - the call of the void

Lingerie - underwear

Maître d' - master o'

Mardi gras - fat Tuesday

Matinée - morning

Ménage à trois - household at three

Mon/ma chéri-e - my cherished

Montage - mounting

Motif - pattern

Mural - on the wall (adj.)

Né-e - born

Négligé - neglected

Nom de plume - feather name

Parole - word

Petite - small (adj.)

Pied-à-terre - foot on land

Poilu - hairy

Pot pourri - rotten pot

Pourboire - for drink

Première - first

Prêt-à-manger - ready to eat

Protégé - protected

Renaissance - rebirth

Rendez-vous - appointment

Répertoire - directory

Résumé - summary

Risqué - risked

Robe - dress

Rouge - red

RSVP - answer please

Sans-culottes - without pantaloons

Savant - "knower" (n.)

Savoir-faire - know how to do (v.)

Savoir-vivre - know how to live

Séance - session

Soirée - evening

Souvenir - memory

Suite - sequel, development

Surveillance - careful watching

Tête-à-tête - head to head

Touché - touched

Tour - circuit

Trompe-l'oeil - cheats the eye

Venue - came

Vignette - sticker, label

Vis-à-vis - face to face

Voyeur - "seer"

Ballet vocabulary:

Allongé - laid down

Balancé - swinged

Balançoire - swing (n.)

Battu - battered

Brisé - broken

Chassé - chased

Chaînés - chained

Ciseaux - scissors

Coupé - cut

Dégagé - cleared

Développé - developed

Échappé - escaped

En cloche - in bell

En croix - in cross

Entrechat - between braid

En pointe - in tip

Failli - almost did

Fouetté - whipped

Glissade - sliding

Plié - bent

Jeté - thrown

Manège - carousel

Pas de bourrée - drunk step

Pas de chat - cat step

Pas de cheval - horse step

Pas de deux - step of two

Pas de valse - waltz step

Penché - leaned

Piqué - pricked

Port de bras - carry of arms

Relevé - lifted back up

Renversé - titled, bent backwards

Retiré - removed

Rond de jambe - leg circle

Temps de flèche - arrow time Tendu - stretched

Temps lié - linked time

Tombé - fallen

Tour en l'air - turn in the air

Kitchen vocabulary:

Amuse-bouche - mouth entertainer

Bain-Marie - Mary bath

Café au lait - milky coffee

Casserole - pot

Cordon bleu - blue ribbon

Crème brûlée - burnt cream

Crème de la crème - cream of the cream

Crème fraîche - fresh cream

Croissant - crescent

Éclair - lightning

Entrée - entrance

Filet mignon - cute net

Flambé - blazed

Foie gras - fat liver

Fondant - melting

Fondue - melted

Gourmet - foodie

Hors d'oeuvre - out of the work

Légume - vegetable

Liqueur - liquid

Mille-feuille - thousand leaf

Mousse - foam

Pâté - pasted

Roux - redhead(ed)

Sauté - jumped

Sautoir - "jumper"

Soufflé - blown

Velouté - velvety

Fanmail - masterlist (2016-) - archives - hire me - reviews (2020-) - Drive

[ticktokrobotsnot]

Vapor

This is Part 2

You can read Part 1 here.

Pairing: Carmen Berzatto x fem!reader 

Summary: An accountant helps Carmen organize his not-so-shit-restaurant and gets invited over for family dinner. 

Word Count: 10k

__

The sky was blood orange and the reflection on the store window was mesmerizing. Y/n was supposed to be in the office getting ready for the full day ahead of her but she couldn’t resist slacking off for a bit, it was nice to finally enjoy the restaurant with no one inside. Y/n needed to be here early when a potential vendor came by to give some quotes. Carmen’s initial reaction was to stand his ground and act like some faux bodyguard because he couldn't fathom why some “sick fuck” would want to be alone with a woman in a restaurant at the ass crack of dawn without them having bad intentions—said it wasn't safe at all. Y/n had to inform him that the, “sick fuck” was a woman. And as soon as Carmen heard that, and realized they were going to be talking numbers for a while, he ran off to the farmer's market, wanting no part in that snooze fest. 

Y/n grabbed her laptop and started reviewing the binders she organized. Just as y/n was about to check her phone for any messages, she heard a knock at the door. A pretty blond woman looks at y/n with a bit of confusion. This woman wasn’t expecting to see y/n and y/n wasn't expecting to see this woman. Y/n walked to the door and opened a crack. 

“Who are you?” Y/n questioned. 

“I could ask you the same thing.” The women laughed but y/n wasn’t finding this funny.

“Natalie…” Y/n shook her head like a bouncer sending a teeager away without his fake ID.

“Natalie Berzatto.” She clarified and y/n recalled the name as a co-signer for The Beef, now The Bear. Y/n opened the door a bit more to let her in. 

Y/n gave her name but she didn’t know what else to say but Natalie was already filling the space. 

“Hi! It’s so nice to finally meet you, Carmen won't stop talking about you. You really saved our asses. Especially with the file organizing stuff, I found the old payroll stuff in like a minute, you're a real savant with stuff like that. Carmy is a real sticker for cooking but he is a real shit-”. It didn’t take a genius to figure out Natalie was nervous.

Y/n knew that Natalie was a part of Carmen’s family but she didn’t know how they were connected. One plausible scenario was that she was Micheal’s widowed girlfriend or wife, which would explain why anyone would co-sign the disaster that Micheal had created and promptly left. Y/n wondered why Carmen would be getting so chummy with his widowed sister-in-law, but then again men have done worse. 

Y/n bit the bullet, “How do you know Carmen?”

“I'm his sister… Sugar?” Y/n was starting to feel like a real idiot for not being able to piece these easy deductions together, she was losing her edge because it was to fucking early in the morning.

“Yes, Richie told me that “Sugar” was going to stop by this week. What can I do for you?” Y/n didn’t mention that she thought Sugar was going to be a stripper because of the name. 

“Actually I came to pick some old tax stuff… Micheal’s tax returns.” Y/n guided her to the office. Even if she didn’t look back she knew that Natalie was spying on her binders and laptop laid out on the counter, trying to find out a bit about y/n. 

“So, Carmy tells me that you two used to work together back in New York.”

“Yeah it was only for a few years.”

“Were you close?” Natalie probed. 

“We were…strangers at best.” Y/n chose to leave out the messy parts of her and Carmen’s origins. 

Natalie shook her head in disbelief. "That can't be true, he actually came to my place one day, pretty late. You know why?" Y/n, not knowing the answer, simply shrugged her shoulders. 

"He said he needed to make an important phone call, someone from his old job. He said that he wanted to ask for a bit of help." Natalie continued, her voice tinged with wishfulness "I thought maybe he was finally going to therapy or something." Y/n felt a strange sensation, like she was staring directly into the sun, hope gave Natalie a beautiful glow. 

Natalie's smile softened as she added, "And you know what? He made that phone call right on our porch." Her words carried a touch of warmth. "Well, at least he's reaching out for help. It's a good thing, right?"

“I recommended therapy to him too but I think we would need to put a gun to his head for him to actually go." Natalie let out a humored exhale. 

There was a lull of silence after she handed the tax returns. Y/n could sense that Natalie wanted to talk some more so y/n directed her to the bar stools out front. She checked her phone and saw that her vendor had a family emergency and needed to reschedule. After shooting a quick ok, she directed herself to face Natalie. 

"You can ask me anything. I've got plenty of time to kill." Y/n offered, feeling generous considering the recent kiss shared with Natalie's brother just a week ago.

“I was here a few times but I never had a chance to meet you?”

“I was probably apartment hunting.” Natalie looked like she was debating asking her next question.   

“What did you think of Carmen when you guys were back in New York?”

“He was like every other chef.”

“Nothing else? No pulling force?”

“No pulling force.”

“You moved state lines for him and you're saying there was no pulling force?”

“He asked me for help and I gave him some.” 

“You chose to stay. There had to be a pull.”

“The restaurant spoke to my soul, I had to stay.” Y/n was bluffing. 

“Bullshit, there was a pull.” Natalie said with a self fulfilled smirk like she had won a point in their imaginary game.

Natalie continued, “You know, he won a Michelin star. A man who cooks…is not too bad.”

“I don’t eat gourmet food. It’s pretentious.” Y/n didn’t want to make too much out of the kiss and make Carmen panic.

“I'm sure he can make something you will like.” 

“I have yet to eat something of his that would warrant him having a Michelin star.”

“You don’t like his cooking?”

“I don’t like anyone’s cooking.” Natalie couldn’t come up with something else. Point to y/n. A smile spread across y/n’s face and Natalie was relieved to realize that y/n wasn’t being serious. 

“What do you like doing?” Natalie probed. 

“I spend most of my time working here but I also read.” 

“Why did you leave New York?” Natalie blurted out.

“I don’t like working with other people, my boss was all over me. I thought Chicago would be a nice change of pace.” 

Y/n saw Natalie unlock her phone to respond to a text from someone named Pete, who had a pink heart near his name. Y/n knew that memorizing people’s passwords was an invasion of their privacy but it was fun to be a bit nosy. 

Y/n was also tired of getting the third-degree, she was hoping for a few fun questions asking if she ever murdered anyone or if she ever was contacted to be a part of a bank heist. She would be lying if she wasn’t a bit afraid that whatever she said would be relayed to Carmen so she didn’t want to say anything too damning. 

“You read romance?” Y/n saw the book peeking out of Natalie’s bag, it was one that she had read before. 

“Yeah, they’re my guilty pleasure.”

“Mine too. I liked that one.” Y/n pointed at the book peaking out.

“I hate it, it's filled with miscommunication. I’m only finishing it to justify the 12 dollars I spent.” Natalie said with a fake pout. 

“I love miscommunication because I suck at talking to people too. Much better than the one I just finished.”

“What killed your book?”

“Third-act break up.” Natalie nodded her head, it seems like they agreed. 

Y/n couldn't help but feel relieved; while the nature of Y/n's relationship with Carmen remained uncertain, it was evident that Natalie would become a more integral part of the restaurant. Carmen's recent discovery of three hundred thousand dollars hidden in tomato cans had sparked ambitious plans for renovating the place. Even if she ended up being nothing serious with Carmen, she needed to secure a stable support who wouldn’t completely hate her if shit hit the fan. 

They continued to talk about a few books that they had read, a few so trashy that they had to hide their faces in embarrassment from each other when reading the summary out loud. 

The door chimed and both women looked over to Carmen who was holding a few bags of produce and baked goods. Y/n went over and plucked the receipts for the top of one of the bags, she didn’t bother helping Carmen because he wouldn’t have let her help anyways. Carmen was gracious enough to put all the receipts together so she wasn’t digging to find them, she kept a record of them to write them off as a business deduction. 

“Nat, you’re here early?” Carmen spared a glance before opening a box of croissants to share and then disappearing to the kitchen to put everything away. 

“Yeah I had to pick something up, y/n was so kind to help me so early in the morning. Isn’t she just the best?” 

“Yeah…How did it go with the vendor?” Carmen mindlessly mumbled while busying himself with a notebook of recipe ideas. 

“Rescheduled.” Y/n didn’t look up, engrossed in cataloging some expensive mushrooms for record keeping. $268.43 for some mushrooms was honestly so ridiculous y/n needed to squint to see if she was seeing this right. 

“I need to return the favor.” Natalie started.

“It was just a few folders, you really don’t-”

“Why don’t you join us for dinner on friday?” Y/n felt like she was performing front and center.

“I couldn’t-.” 

“Please, Pete never wants to talk to me about…” Natalie was raising her eyebrows in the most unsubtle way possible so she didn’t expose y/n's softer side and her penchant for reading romance novels. Y/n couldn’t help but hide her face in embarrassment, “Yeah…fine. Just tell me what time.”

Observing the exchange, Carmen couldn't help but wonder if this was how dogs felt when humans engaged in their own incomprehensible conversations.

Y/n was starting to feel like she was edging closer and closer to Carmen’s limit. Kissing in the back alley of a restaurant and on the car ride to and from work was very different from being invited to his sister’s house for dinner. It carried a weight of intimacy, commitment, and solidity that made Y/n slightly uneasy, wondering if this was too much for Carmen. She waited for the other shoe to drop, Carmen would subtly show his discontent by telling Natalie that she shouldn’t force y/n to go to that dinner, which was just an excuse to create some distance. Y/n was surprised when Carmen asked what type of desert he should bring instead. 

Y/n kept her cool and excused herself to go to the office so she could get back to work. 

Carmen and Natalie moved to the kitchen where Carmen would experiment for a bit. Natalie sat on a stool next to Carmen who started washing produce. 

“She is very smart.” Natalie whispered. She took a glance at the closed office door.

“Yeah. Great with the books.” Carmen peeled and diced some garlic. 

“Nice too.”

“She is very nice.” Carmen started cutting some nepitella. The additional “very” caused some alarm bells to ring in Natalie’s head. She hid her smirk. 

“Everything about her is nice,” Natalie made sure to pay close attention to Carmen’s face, “Nice personality, nice face-” Carmen took a worried glance at the office door and then looked up at Natalie with wide eyes.

“Why, why, what are you-?” He was flustered. 

“I’m just sharing my observations. You don’t think she has a nice face-?”

“This is a business, we try to keep professional.” Carmen hid his fumble with fake professionality, unfortunately Natalie saw right through it. 

“Try?” Natalie teased. Carmen looked away to pretend to look for some dried porcini. He felt like an idiot. He understood why people used to see him as an easy target when he was younger, he basically showed everyone his buttons, and asked them to get pushed. Carmen continued to chop in silence. 

“I'm sorry, I just got a bit excited. I won't push.” Natalie gave her brother the benefit of the doubt, she always thought he would never get into a serious relationship but he liked y/n and y/n seemed like the serious girlfriend type. Natalie couldn’t help but nudge Carmen in the right direction. 

Carmen chopped in silence for a few minutes, debating if he should tell Natalie about the kiss. In his mind, he didn’t know if it was too soon for him to introduce his girlfriend to his family. Calling y/n his girlfriend felt unreal, past him wouldn’t believe it even if he saw it.  

He handed his notebook to Natalie so she could read measurements to him, he wanted her here for just a bit longer till he gained the courage to tell her about y/n. 

Tagliatelle with porcini mushrooms was the first test item of the morning, and he had to soak the dried porcini for 30 minutes, he was bummed that the market didn't have the fresh kind but he knew he would get the real shit when y/n got a hold of that vendor. He looked up at Natalie and tilted his head to indicate that they should leave. Carmen avoided the alley because he knew that y/n would look there first and he didn’t want her to overhear anything. They walked over to a nearby supermarket and started roaming the aisles. It was nearly empty because it was six in the morning. 

“I did something…and I need you to not…just listen and don’t make it a big deal.”

“I got it, Carmy.” 

“A while ago, I…” Carmen looked at all the different types of instant noodles they had on display. “So, we were in deep shit with these pre-orders and I was a mess and y/n and I were talking after…” Carmen moved over to the boxed pasta, he didn't intend to buy anything but he did read the nutritional facts.

“I umm, asked her to…” Jesus, Carmen wondered, why he didn’t make more friends so he didn’t have to talk to his older sister about something like this. Richie didn’t seem capable of giving any advice that wasn’t, “Just Do It”.

 “We ki…” Natalie kept her face hard but the second that Carmen turned around to look at a box of elbow pasta, she couldn't help herself but let out a small, barely audible squeal of delight. Her eyes widened, and a grin threatened to break through her determined facade. Natalie quickly covered her mouth with her hand, trying to contain her elation, making sure not to let Carmen catch a glimpse. She stifled her excitement with every fiber of her being, preserving the illusion of calmness for when Carmen turned back around, none the wiser.

“It’s been a while, and we k…” Carmen didn’t know how he was supposed to maturely ask for advice when he couldn’t even say a kiss in front of his sister while cringing. Carmen couldn’t do this, it was too open, too vulnerable. 

Nat cut him some slack and started asking questions instead, “Was it a one time thing?” Carmen subtly shook his head no. Her lips parted as she squeezed a jar of Pego to contain herself. 

“Do you regret it?” Carmen didn’t respond but that didn’t mean no, that ment that she was getting closer to the root of the problem.

“Do you think she’s going to regret it?” Carmen’s shoulder’s raised slightly, bingo. 

“Why don’t I gauge how she is feeling at dinner.” Nat knew he was about to run away from her for exposing too much and she had to give him an incentive to not follow his instincts. 

She continued, “We talked earlier, she said she hates your cooking.” Carmen’s head snapped up, Nat knew that y/n was just joking but it was still a bit funny to mess with Carmen. 

The look of shock transported her back to when she was eight sitting next to Carmy and watching Micheal convince him to finish a glass of milk or else he would lose all of his teeth to a calcium deficiency. This wasn’t the time to reminisce but it made her heart warm knowing that even after going through so much, there was still a part of young Carmy that persevered. She was feeling the burning in the back of her eyes, her hormones were making her sentimental. 

“Yeah she said that your food fucking blows.” Carmen caught on and let out a small laugh.

They both roamed in the aisle moving on to juices. Sugar free, diet, pineapple, orange. Carmen’s eyebrows raised when he saw the price of orange juice before putting it down and deciding to just make his own. 

Carmen started, “She isn’t the type of person who changes her mind easily,” but if she can make that shift to see him in a good light, maybe she'll stick around and eventually see the real Carmen—a pathetic, insecure loser. All he did was make a promise to her but he knew it meant nothing without actions, and he was unsure if he could control his anger or keep his obsessiveness in check when something especially difficult happened. If another shit storm made its rounds in the kitchen, would he really be able to be the bigger person? Carmen doubted it. 

Carmen just ripped off the bandaid, “I don’t know how to…I want her to not hate me. I know I'm going to..” Carmen waited till a child next to them moved to the other end of teh aisle towards his dad, “..fuck it up, but I dont want that to happen.” 

“What makes you think she is going to hate you?”

“When we were talking…she told me that I should have done better. And that I…needed to be “stable”, but I don’t know how to be that for myself, let alone someone else.”

“She isn’t asking you to do it for her, she wants you to do it for yourself.” Natalie offered. 

“Its like having to solve a word search to answer a stupid fucking puzzle. I don’t…” Carmen sighed in defeat. Nat knew that he was strong and it was impossible for her to fix this for him but that still made her palms itch seeing him struggle like this. She racked her brain, desperately seeking any glimmer of a solution that could offer him even a shred of relief. 

They both walked out the market towards the restaurant. “It's really hard…and it's not that I don’t want to, it just feels impossible.” Carmen muttered, he was close to giving up. 

A burning sensation welled up in the back of Natalie's throat, and she instinctively placed her hand on Carmen's shoulder as a gesture of support and to her surprise Carmen looked at her, saw her glassy eyes and hugged her. The shock knocked a few tears from her eyes.. 

Carmy was not a selfish person but Nat noticed that he was becoming a bit more aware that he takes up much more space then he originally thought he did. He now knew that his presence was big enough to be able to tear people down but was also big enough to offer meaningful support. He had come to understand his own significance, and this realization struck Natalie like a tidal wave, causing her to burst into uncontrollable sobs. 

“Does crying mean I'm fucked, Sugar?” Carmen asked, his voice tinged with humor and uncertainty, as he gently rubbed Natalie's back for comfort. Nat shook her head no.

“You'll be okay. You always are.” Nat wiped her face before continuing to walk back to the restaurant. 

Carmen snuck a few glances to see what was making his sister a sobbing mess, she wasn’t the type to break down like that, “Are you good?” Natalie nodded her head.

“Everything good at home?” It felt strange to say the word home, even after visiting multiple countries and living in many different apartments, Carmen couldn’t really call any place home. Home was supposed to be a sanctuary of warmth, Carmen's closest experience to that feeling was back in his family house—a place where the warmth was scalding and suffocating. Where it was a constant waiting game, anticipating the intense heat to escalate and cause everything, and everyone, to boil over. 

Carmen was acutely aware that he would never have a home quite like Sugar's. He couldn't help but wonder if he had what it took to be like Pete for someone else—always helpful, kind, and perhaps a little too accommodating. He questioned whether he had the capacity to fulfill that role and maintain his own sense of self. Granted, what about his “self” was worth preserving?

Natalie nodded her head but Carmen wasn’t convinced. “It's just a lot, you know. Seeing the place getting renovated. I used to hate that place, but..” She sighed, “...I picked up Micheal’s tax returns, I didn’t even need them for anything…I just wanted to see them to know what he was going through towards the…'' end. She didn’t need to finish for Carmen to know what she was talking about. They were in front of the restaurant and Carmen gave her a side hug and against his better judgment he tried his hand in verbal reassurance so he could be there for her, fully. 

“I think he tried his best to make everything look fine, and it’s nice to know that he was at least able to pretend till the...end.” Sugar looked up at him and didn’t comment on his successful attempt to be her support, not wanting to scare him. 

They wordlessly walked in the restaurant and Carmen finished up his dish. He made enough for one plate because he was expecting to have to remake it a few times. He grabbed a small plate and served a separate plate for y/n before knocking on her door. She looked up at him, not hearing him and gave him a “hmm” which echoed in his chest. She sat with them in the kitchen, taking her laptop with her. They all took the first bite together. Carmen watched both women’s reactions to gauge their uncensored reactions. Natalie’s eyebrows raised and she gave him a nod of approval. 

Y/n took a bite and looked up from her plate so see Carmen staring at her. “Why are you staring?”

“Do you not like it?” 

“It’s good.” Y/n put her fork down and propped up her head on her hand. 

“But, you didn’t-”

“I’m not really a foodie, so food is never like…” Y/n made an explosion sound and flicked her hands open, “Good, is the best you going to get out of me.” Natalie wondered how a chef and an anti-gourmet foodie were going to work. 

“Is all food just ”good”?” Y/n looked up and tried to think of food that was better than good.

“I like mom's cooking.” 

“What is her food like?”

“Intense…subtly in food doesn’t mean anything to me because I don’t taste the difference.” Carmen was waiting for more for y/n.

“I ate a lot of spicy, sour and bitter food growing up. My mom didn’t think that kids should eat different things than everyone else, so I guess pasta and mushrooms will always be just “good”.” Y/n felt like she was just shitting all over his profession but he asked for her opinion so he couldn’t get offended now. 

Carmen nodded his head before walking away. Y/n pierced her lips and looked over to Natalie wondering if she hurt Carmen’s feelings. Natalie looked just as bewildered. Just as y/n was about to find Carmen, he came out with a few more ingredients.

“What are you making?” 

“Something you will like.” 

“I liked what you made-” 

“Good is not enough.” 

“Come on, Carmen, it's something that everyone will like, it’s going to kill opening day.”

“But you have to like it.” Y/n sighed before indicating that he should continue. 

“You won’t be able to serve the food I like to eat, it would be considered a biological weapon.” Y/n was warning him but Carmen thought she was teasing him. He would learn to listen to her warning in the future. He put the porcini mushrooms to the side before getting started on some penne all’arrabbiata. 

Y/n laughed at him knowing that he wouldn’t have the courage to spice up a dish to her standard before grabbing her laptop so she could get some work done and also talk to Natalie about contractors. 

While Carmen chopped and stirred, y/n subtly glanced up at his flexing back and strong arms. She thought she was hiding it well but when she went to check if Natalie noticed she saw that Natalie was already watching her. Natalie snickered as y/n hid her face behind her laptop to hide her embarrassment. Carmen turned around to see what was so funny but was just met with the view of both of them with their faces hiding behind their hands. 

Y/n felt someone pass behind her and knew it was Sydney without having to look up. “Hey guys, what are we making?” She took a bite out of the pasta, which was slightly cooled but she still nodded her head. 

“It’s fire, chef. It would be great if it was hot, I want to remake it to see what it was supposed to taste like.”

Y/n couldn’t say that she completely forgave Sydney but y/n did respect that she went to Richie to give some type of apology after a while. Y/n could accept that the two of them wouldn’t be best friends, they just needed to be able to work together. 

Y/n went to Carmen’s locker before pulling out a few Tums for everyone, it looks like today was going to be pasta day because of her and she didn’t want to send everyone home with a stomach ache.

Carmen continued with his pasta, and served it in front of y/n. All the women took a bite,

“It’s got a kick to it.” Natalie said while reaching for a food container filled with water while wiping sweat from her brow. Sydney gave Carmen a, “This is fire, chef.” Y/n couldn't help but cringe inwardly at the comment because she knew she couldn't quite match their shared vernacular and the ease with which they expressed themselves with food. What private passion did y/n and Carmen share?

Carmen stared y/n down as she took a bite.

“It’s good.” Carmen waited for her to elaborate. “It’s too subtle.” 

Carmen smirked, “Yeah, next time I'll just make you a ball of fire for you to enjoy.” Y/n gave him a shit eating grin, it was just too fun not to mess with him, and when she saw him smile back she felt a bit of imaginary nostalgia, this was what she longed for back in New York. 

The restaurant was still closed for renovations and after a while a few other crew members came by to do some demo. Y/n was stuck on hold with the inspector's office when she was approached by Natalie, “I’ve got a doctor’s appointment so I've got to go, I’ll see you on Friday at eight.” 

The rest of the week flew by because they were on a very strict time crunch to open in a few months. Y/n wasn’t very worried but she could feel the nerves from everyone else and she knew it would be in bad taste to tell them to toughen up, so she let them be grown ups and deal with their own anxieties. 

On Friday, y/n left early to get ready for dinner, she opened an old moving box and pulled out a dress that she wore to an old work function. It was very tasteful because it was freezing outside. Y/n grabbed her gifts before running into Carmen’s car. Y/n took one look at Carmen and had to do a double take to make sure that she went into the right person’s car. Carmen’s hair was lighty slicked back, probably with pomade, and he was wearing a deep blue sweater with a white collar. 

“I didn’t know you had clothes other than aprons and Dickies.”

“You look..” Carmen marveled at the way her eyes sparkled with an inner radiance, drawing him in like a moth to a flame. He knew he wasn’t able to get the full picture yet because they were in a dark car but he could only imagine what she would do to him when they went to the well lit house. “..great.” Carmen wanted to punch himself for being so unoriginal but he couldn’t focus on anything. 

“Thank you, you look good too. Blue is definitely your color..” Carmen’s fingers loosened around the steering wheel, compliments had always made him uneasy; he spent the majority of his life trying to make himself as small as possible and now he was pushed into the spotlight and he wondered if he even liked it?

“Carmen, can you look at me for a second?” And when he swiveled his head towards y/n, she squished his face lighty before giving his puckered lips a soft kiss. Just as she was about to lean back into her seat, Carmen, unable to resist, slipped his hand beneath her hair, grasping the back of her neck and drawing her in for a deeper, more passionate second kiss. 

Yeah, he liked it.

“We are going to be late.” Y/n whispered before giving him one last peck. Carmen, still in a daze, fiddled with the radio so he could get his head straight. The ride to his sister’s house was quiet barring the soft jazz. Y/n was very nervous, they never had that conversation that said that they were official and for all she knew she was just a friend that Carmen kissed from time to time. She resisted the urge to ask right now because she was scared to find out that they were nothing more. She would savor the few minutes before she was inevitably introduced as a friend, or worse a co-worker. 

They pulled into Natalie’s driveway and got out of the car, y/n grabbed the bouquet of flowers and a bottle of wine and they rang the doorbell. 

"Why are you holding the tray like that?" Y/n asked, noticing how Carmen clung to it like a shield. Before she could receive a response, Natalie opened the door with a warm greeting, inviting them inside. Y/n handed over the gifts, but Carmen still clung onto his belongings. Just then, Peter descended the stairs, seemingly about to approach Carmen for a hug before his gaze landed on Carmen's protective tray. He hesitated and stepped back, realizing it was acting as a barrier. Y/n stifled a laugh, biting her cheek to prevent herself from laughing at Carmen’s immaturity.

Carmen greeted, “Pete.” Y/n could feel the dislike and she felt bad for Pete because he seemed nice.

“Carmen, it’s good to see you, man.”

“This is my girlfriend, y/n.” A sense of numbness overwhelmed her. It was like when people get run over by a semi and say that they don’t feel anything. Y/n extended her hand to shake Pete's, and she followed him into the living room. 

Carmen went into the kitchen to help Natalie and y/n made pleasant conversation with Pete, he seemed a bit soft but she could understand why Natalie might want someone like him. Y/n pretended to be interested when he showed her his Cubs memorabilia, she initially thought the Cubs were a fictional sports team made by the New Girl writers. 

Y/n and Pete walked over to the kitchen and asked if they needed any help. Pete looked like he wanted to actually be helpful but y/n had her fingers crossed hoping she didn’t have to do any cooking. It was weird to see Carmen let someone else take the lead while he watched. Even with Sydney, he still watched over everything like a hawk, not because he didn’t trust her, it's just because he wouldn’t let her fail. 

Y/n watched as everyone spoke and she wondered where she fit in. Natalie and Carmen were obviously close and Pete was doing his best to get close to Carmen, trying to bridge the obvious gap between them. Y/n had to stop herself from telling Carmen to either be nicer or for Pete to drop it.

Other than being Carmen’s new “girlfriend” and sharing small talk, what else was there for her to talk about? Y/n didn’t know them well but she could tell there was a lot of subtext between the three of them that added weight to their interactions that she wasn’t privy to yet. She was a flame trying to suck in any bubble of oxygen so she could ignite, she needed more information before she could actually join them.

 It felt like she was reading Dune for the first time, being dropped in the middle of an already moving plot and she was scrambling to play catch up. Carmen had a lot of triggers and she wondered if Natalie was the same. Even if they acted completely differently, y/n could tell that they were sidestepping something, like they were avoiding talking about a gaping bullet wound, and if siblings were acting like that it means that it's a problem with the parents. Despite the fact that they were in the kitchen, the three of them weren’t talking about the food. Y/n made a mental checklist of a few rules; 1. Don’t bring up parents 2. Don't mention food because it's a trigger 3. Pay attention to Natalie because she was not as good at hiding her feelings as Carmen. 

Dinner was served and they all took a seat, y/n took slow sips of wine and saw that Natalie’s wine was slightly darker than hers. Y/n was sitting across Natalie so she recognized the smell too, apple. She was drinking sparkling apple cider. Y/n hid her smirk by talking another sip, she would be a spy or something because she was killing it in the recon department. 

Dinner was starting to feel stiff, y/n took a deep breath and turned to Natalie, “Your cooking is to die for.” Natalie tucked in her lips but couldn’t help but hide her smile, y/n never told Carmen anything like that, barring the first day she got to Chicago, it was a petty way of getting back at him for blindsiding her by calling her his girlfriend. 

“Thanks, It's a family recipe.” Y/n wanted to stab herself with the fork, she just broke rule one and two. Just as y/n was about to make some asinine comment to change topics, Carmen did it for her.

“Can you pass me the bread, Sugar?” Y/n found her opening.

“Sugar, that’s a nice nickname, what’s the story?” 

Natalie paused and y/n had a feeling she fucked up, “We were having this Chrismas family thing and I added a cup of sugar into the gravy instead of salt. The name just stuck.” Y/n definitely fucked up, she was breaking rules left and right. Y/n scrabbled to put herself in the same level as Natalie.

“I’ve been there. My parents were having a few co-worker over for lunch and they brought a box of these expensive mangos and I was told to make some smoothies because it was boiling that day. I filled up the sugar container with salt without noticing and made them smoothies with a ton of salt.” Y/n saw that all eyes were on her and she didn’t allow herself to be nervous because she was trying to get a deeper point across.

Y/n continued, “I have never heard that many people gag all at once.” Their faces broke into a smile.

“What did your mom say?” Bingo, looks like the taboo parent could be narrowed down to their mother. 

“She didn’t say anything bad, she and her co-workers just laughed. I mean I was a kid and we all make mistakes. I ended up making lemonade instead.”

Natalie’s eyes lit up,“It’s a shame that all those mangos went to waste.” Natalie joked. 

“Waste?” Y/n had a fake offense, “I drank the rest to prove that it wasn’t that bad.”

“Was it that bad?” Pete asked.

“My blood pressure was through the roof. It was the first time I ever got a headache.” 

The rest of dinner was a bit more relaxed, y/n was expecting Carmen to talk a bit more because these were his people but it looked like she would have to do the talking for the both of them. They finished up dinner and y/n got up to help them clean up. It was y/n and Carmen alone in the kitchen while Natalie went upstairs to check on something, aka she needed some rest and Pete went to check up on her. 

As Carmen washed the dishes, Y/n stood by, towel in hand, drying them. The domestic scene felt comfortable, yet she couldn't determine if she truly enjoyed this newfound domesticity. She wondered if in Carmen’s eyes she was merely playing the role of the perfect partner – someone who could effortlessly navigate his family dynamics, fix his business, and be his own manic pixie dream girl. 

A selfish thought crossed Y/n's mind. What was she truly gaining from this relationship? She had been too afraid to make a move with Carmen after the kiss, fearing that one misstep could lead her to being shut out completely. She hesitated to voice her preferences about his food, to ask about the nature of their relationship, or to discuss their future plans if this relationship fell through. Y/n wasn't one to dwell in discomfort, except for her previous job, and she felt frustrated that she had to jump through so many hoops just to ensure that Carmen wouldn't leave.

They finished the dishes and y/n could tell that Carmen wanted to check on Natalie but he didn’t want to leave y/n alone. Y/n being a supportive girlfriend, practically pushed him up the steps before walking out the front door and leaning on the porch. Y/n grabbed her jacket and walked out. She underestimated the frigid Chicago air which felt like a sharp slap to her face, serving as a wake-up call. It reminded her that the warm and fuzzy feeling she had been battling within herself was merely fleeting, and that the reality of the world could be much harsher and more painful. 

Y/n couldn’t help but wonder why Carmen was even bothering with her, they had nothing in common but the restaurant. Work was everything for him and Sydney, their shared connection always pulled them together despite both of their volatile personalities. What pulled y/n and Carmen together? They both worked in the restaurant but Carmen didn’t have a passion for running said restaurant, it was a mere obligation that y/n took from him. If she stopped working there, what else did they have in common? 

Y/n came to the daunting realization that Carmen picked Sydney because he saw potential in her, a chance to let both him and her grow. However, he didn’t pick y/n because he saw something deeper in her, it was an act of embarrassed desperation. 

Was she just a means to help Carmen get his shit together? The restaurant meant a lot to Micheal and after he died Carmen stopped seeing the restaurant as something that was out of his reach but as something to connect him to his brother, a small thread connecting the estranged brothers. Y/n was there to hold up the connection in the vaguest of ways, she kept the restaurant afloat so Carmen could come to terms with Micheals’s legacy, good and bad.

She was lost in thought when she heard the door close, she turned her head to see Carmen was already lighting a cigarette. It was difficult for her to be objective when Carmen locked eyes with her with such intensity. Y/n ripped her eyes from him and faced forward looking at the neighbor's yard, they had nice shrubs. 

“I thought you left.” Carmen started as he leaned on the railing with y/n. He looked forward to see what was so interesting that y/n couldn’t look him in the face, it was just some trees.

“I needed some air.”

“You could catch a cold.” 

“I don’t get sick, sick is a mindset.” Y/n was obviously joking. 

She lowered her head so that she could feel the cold metal on her forehead, maybe a different type of pain would make this conversation easier. Her forehead landed on something warm, the back of Carmen’s hand. She turned her head to its side but remained connected to Carmen’s hand. The warmth radiating on her cheek was making her stomach do backflips. Even if she knew she shouldn’t be indulging like this she couldn’t help it. He felt too good and y/n was getting more and more greedy. 

“Hey, Carmen?” Carmen was still staring at y/n. “What do we have in common?” He looked taken aback.

“We like each other…” He was starting to feel the slow slitter of nausea because he knew the other shoe was about to drop.

“If we don’t have much in common, what do we talk about?” 

“We can talk about whatever we like. It’s nice to…be with someone who isn't wrapped up in the same things as me.” Carmen expressed a genuine warmth in his voice. Carmen wanted to say that she made him feel like the roof wasn’t going to collapse on him and that the small things weren’t going to destroy him but it felt selfish to describe how much he cared for her based on how she made him feel and not on facts about her. 

“I don’t care about fancy food.” Y/n blurted out.

Carmen chuckled, “You know about the vendors, where the supplies are sourced, how much they cost, and a bunch of other stuff. You do care, just in a different way than I do.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“It gives me perspective. It’s very realistic and grounded.” Y/n knew he was calling her realistic and grounded. 

“I like hearing you talk about my food.” Carmen offered.

“Even if it’s just “good”?”

“Especially if it's just "good". That means you're telling me the truth.” Carmen recalled a ninth grade world history lesson about the Rosetta Stone, an artifact written in three different languages and made it possible to translate some ancient language. Though he hadn't fully paid attention during the lesson, Carmen now saw the parallel. If Y/n had the courage to express her opinions on his food, it meant she was being honest with him about everything else. 

Y/n cracked a smile before covering her mouth and started laughing. It was a jarring sound, Carmen couldn’t pinpoint what the laugh was meant to convey but he knew it wasn’t good. 

“What?” Carmen asked, Y/n rubbed her face with her cold hands. 

“You said that you were scared of me a while back but now…” Y/n's laughter softened into a smaller chuckle, conveying a mix of amusement and irony.

“I’m scared of you.” The weight was lifted off her shoulders and slammed down on Carmen's. Y/n wondered if this is how the rest of their relationship was going to be; one person transferring their hurt to the other till the weight became too much to bear. 

"It's... I want to bring so many things up to you but..." Y/n wondered if this counted as an accusation. "..you’re so flighty. I don't know what to say that won't make you..." Y/n struggled to find a word that didn't feel so definitive, but the only word that felt honest was, "...leave."

The porch fell into an uneasy silence, both of them grappling with the weight of Y/n's vulnerability.

"I...I didn't realize..." Carmen stammered, his voice betraying his inner turmoil. "I would never just... leave." They both stared in silence, they knew that wasn’t true. Y/n lifted her head leaving the warmth behind, she knew this wouldn’t work if he made false promises. And against everything telling her to just accept his promise as law and ignore any doubts, she couldn’t fool herself like that. 

“That’s such bullshit.” Y/n lighty giggled. It felt as though a shark had promised to stop swimming—it was ingrained in their nature. In that lighthearted moment, a mischievous thought crossed Y/n's mind: What would happen if Carmen actually stopped running away? Would he cease to exist, like a fish in space? 

Her playful musings, though immature, offered a brief respite from the weight of their conversation. It was a temporary escape, a way to diffuse the tension. Y/n noticed that she brought all this shit up to comfort herself but she was giggling to make him feel safe. Even when she knew she shouldn’t, she couldn't help but try to make him feel better. 

As the laughter subsided, Y/n met Carmen's eyes, she forced herself to ignore the emotions he was conveying and instead tried to match his eyes with things she had seen in the past. If this ended poorly, she would miss his eyes the most and she wanted to know what else could match in intensity in case she never got to see him like this ever again, nothing came to mind.

Carmen felt like he was backed into a corner, he couldn’t promise her anything without her, justifiably, doubting him. 

"I don't want to leave you," Carmen offered, his voice carrying a mixture of sincerity and vulnerability. It was the most honest response he could offer at that moment. He couldn't guarantee that he wouldn't feel the urge to run, to escape when things got tough, but he had a genuine desire to stay. 

Y/n's eyes met Carmen's, her expression softened. She knew it wasn't a perfect answer, but it was a step forward. It was enough to know that he acknowledged his own complexities and still chose to be present with her.

They stood in the quiet watching neighbors turn off their living room lights and go upstairs. She wanted to test out whether, “They could talk about whatever they wanted too.” 

“What do you think they’re doing?” Y/n asked, Carmen parted his lips and turned his face to look at y/n so see if she was serious, she was.

“I think they go to bed and she has this super long night time routine and he is already asleep by the time she gets to bed. You?” Y/n knew that if they ever slept over at each other’s place, that’s exactly what would happen between them. 

“She probably got home from a shit day and she starts reading an easy romance book…Do you read any books?”

“They are mostly cooking stuff.” He took a drag from his cigarette.

“You read cookbooks for entertainment?”

“Sometimes, it's a part of the craft.” Carmen realized how fucking pretentious he sounded and was a bit ashamed but seeing y/n refrain from teasing him by bitting her lips made him not want to crawl into a hole and die of shame, her smile was addicting. “…but there is a lot of history and science too. '' Carmen knew he sucked at conversation but he would do anything to keep talking. 

“What was your last book?” 

Y/n and Carmen kept talking till they lost track of time and eventually when they had reached a comfortable lull, y/n could confidently say that they were in fact capable of holding a conversation about mundane shit. 

Against every fiber of her being telling her to end their conversation like this, she couldn’t help but ask, “What happens…if this ends?” Y/n didn’t know if she was supposed to use “if” or “when”; one was cautious, the other was a prophecy. 

Carmen didn’t look back at her, instead giving her, “You’ll still have a job…I’m not a dick…all the time.” Y/n lips curved upwards. 

“Will you be able to work with someone you’ve been in a relationship with?” 

“Yes.” Carmen wondered if the answer could ever be anything other than yes. 

Y/n knew that if this ended badly she would be allowed to stick around so that Carmen would have an excuse to throw himself at his work. She would be the catalyst to merge him from an individual to a vague reflection of Micheal’s legacy. 

Whether or not Carmen knew it, Micheal was a huge influence in his life and just like Micheal began to isolate himself towards the end, Carmen would do the same if they drifted apart. It was his inherent weakness and a relationship gone sour that would make it difficult for him to break the cycle that Micheal had started. 

“I won’t stay if it hurts you, Carmen.”

“I would want you to stay, y/n.”

“There is no trophy that comes with going through unnecessary shit.”

“I know, I would still need you.” Carmen hesitated but eventually placed his hand top on y/n's. 

“Because I can do the books?” Y/n rolled her eyes jokingly. 

“No…you do more than that. You are…” Carmen read books with a shit ton of adjectives, they had to be descriptive to describe food through text. Despite that, he was at a loss for words to describe her.

"You are..." he began again, this time his voice was a little gentler than before. He took a deep breath, hoping that he could find those words that would express everything he felt.

"You are very important to me,". His voice was soft like he was realizing this for the first time. 

The second time was meant for y/n, "You are very important to me."  I love you, y/n. 

Y/n locked eyes with Carmen for a moment. 

"You are important to me too." I love you, Carmen.

Neither of them had the courage to say that to each other, wondering if they were the only one’s feeling like this. 

They both had jackets on but y/n’s hands were freezing and she could feel Carmen’s hand was also ice cold. She knew that they had both reached their limits but y/n couldn’t help but relish in the cold for a bit longer. 

For y/n, the biting cold was always a catalyst for clarity, stripping away the unnecessary and forcing y/n to distill her focus onto the few things that mattered. Amidst the frost, she found solace in the simplicity. It was within this chilling environment that she discovered a clear chance to confront her inner turmoil head-on and confront the world. 

Carmen had always been drawn to the intense heat. It was as if the scorching temperatures matched the fire that burned within him, igniting his passion and driving him forward but leaving him with nothing to look back on. Extreme heat was his poison of choice, his way of confronting the world. 

Carmen’s heat was turning her mind into a messy slurry of slush. Y/n had to force herself to focus despite the fact that Carmen’s hand was providing her with a sliver of intoxicating  warmth.

“You didn’t ask me to be your girlfriend.” Carmen’s head shot up aback by y/n's words. He was excited to introduce her to his family, and he hadn't thought to ask her permission first. He tried to explain himself, his words coming out in a rush.

"I didn't mean to assume anything. I just thought that since we've been seeing each other for a while now, it was... " He took a moment to catch his breath, trying to gather his thoughts.

“I think you should try asking first.” Carmen stared at y/n not knowing if this was a trap to get rejected twice. He opted for silence.

“Carmen, ask me if I want to be your girlfriend?” Carmen didn't want to say the wrong thing, not when it was so important, for someone so important. Carmen trusted y/n so he stubbed his cigarette on the ashtray before taking a deep breath and asking, “Will you be my girlfriend, y/n.” 

Y/n wrapped her freezing hands around his neck accidentally grazing her finger on his neck making him shiver. She leaned in against his lip and even though they had kissed before this, Carmen felt like he couldn’t think. Y/n lips barely touching Carmen’s before whispering a soft, “Yes, Carmy.” 

Carmen closed the small gap between their lips. And y/n felt a gentle heat seep through the folds of her head making it difficult to focus on her freezing fingers, or her numb toes, or her goosebump riddled legs, or her shivering arms. Y/n felt Carmen pull her closer and even though they were as close as physically possible, it wasn’t enough. Carmen’s lips left y/n’s before trailing down the column of her neck, y/n could feel the blossoming of heat radiate from his lips. Y/n’s hands sank down to Carmen’s waist and slowly drifted up his shirt. The cold sent shivers down his spine as y/n’s hands moved at a glacial pace. 

Just as Carmen reached the collar of her jacket he looked up at her and y/n had to resist every irrational and reckless part of her that told her to continue. The realization that they were on Carmen’s sister’s porch made y/n look around to ground herself. She landed on a black box right near the door before looking back to Carmen with her mouth agape and her eyes wide open. 

“What?” Carmen questioned with furrowed eyebrows.

“We are on your sister's porch.” Y/n said with a thousand yard stare and a distant mutter.

“I’m not a fucking animal, obviously we aren’t going to do this here.” Y/n softly grasped Carmen’s face before turning towards the black box, a doorbell camera. 

“Jesus…fuck.” They both looked at each other before y/n scrambled inside with Carmen right behind her. Either they were caught and they had to face Natalie despite the embarrassment or they got to the footage before Natalie saw it.  

Y/n let Carmen lead her to Natalie’s room, who thankfully was still laying on her side, Pete had gone to the restroom. 

Y/n leaned up to Carmen before whispering, “Distract her.” Carmen sat near Natalie and asked her if she wanted some ginger-ale or if he should stop by a pharmacy. 

Natalie's phone was on the nightstand and y/n swiped it when Natalie wasn’t looking before unlocking her phone with the password she acquired from being noisy. She then deleted the footage of the last hour from her Ring app. Y/n wanted to scroll back a few months to watch Carmen call her for the first time but she didn’t have enough time. 

Y/n set the phone exactly how she found it and gave Carmen a subtle thumbs up. 

“I’m fine, I think I need to sleep this off.” Natalie sat up while glancing at y/n and y/n had to resist freezing like a criminal caught in the spotlight. 

“I’m really sorry-” Natalie started.

“Please don’t be. I had a great time. Is there anything we can do for you before we leave?” Y/n felt bad for taking advantage of Natalie’s pregnancy induced sickness but this was a matter of prestige, she wouldn’t be able to set foot in this house if Natalie ever saw the footage.  

Natalie shook her head no and they said their goodbye’s before Camren and y/n practically tripped over themselves running out of that house. They sprinted to the car and slammed the doors shut before bursting out laughing. Y/n felt like she was a teenager again, sneaking her boyfriend out the fire escape before her mom walked in. Carmen pushed his forehead into the steering wheel to laugh and the sound that echoed felt like it was melting itself into y/n’s brain, forever branded into her memory. 

“How many times have you been here, Carmen? You never noticed the fucking camera, you dick?” Y/n struggled to shake off the heat that pulsed up her body, Camren hadn’t even started the car yet and she was burning up. 

“I…I never looked, what kind of freak looks?”Carmen said in between laughs. Y/n gave him a fake look of disapproval.

“Turn the car on, Berzatto, you’re getting on my fucking nerves.”

Carmen turned on his car before pulling out of Natalie’s driveway, he was still snickering and in the streetlight y/n could see his neck turn bright red. 

“Stop by a CVS or something.” Y/n said while fiddling with the radio.

“You think you caught something from Nat.” Y/n resisted telling him that pregnancy wasn’t contagious, men are so fucking stupid. 

“You have condoms on you?” Carmen slammed on the break, lucky they were at a red light.

“N...no.” Scarlet crawled up his neck and up his face. Y/n didn’t know someone’s ears could ever get that red before. Carmen stayed still trying to collect his fractured thoughts. 

“It's green, Carmen.”

He stepped on the gas and y/n was glad that the roads were practically empty because he was driving like he had all the insurance in the world. He pulled over to a Walgreens and ran out of the car. Y/n shook her head at his shit parking, he was in between two spots. Carmen came back in a minute with a plastic bag, y/n could decipher from the shapes that he had also bought some gatorades too. 

Carmen pulled out of the parking lot.

Y/n didn’t recognize the streets on their ride back, “Your place?” 

“Mine is closer.” Carmen replied, his voice tinged with a mix of anticipation.

Y/n could help but giggle, she always loved it when he was desperate. She knew it was wrong, but she always felt such a rush of excitement when her control over him was at its pinnacle and they both knew it.

When they reached a stop sign, y/n glanced over at Camren and saw that he was already looking back at her. 

They couldn’t seem to care that they were wading in uncharted waters and they couldn’t convince themselves that this was going to end badly enough for them to not at least try. If they looked at each other like that, there was no way they were going to let each other go. 

__

End Notes:

Fire + Ice = Vapor; It took me an embarrassing amount of time to think of that.

There is a lot of tension and maturity that needs to be written in smut for it to be good and I just can’t do that. I tried for this one and I had to close my laptop and take a lap because the second hand embarrassment was too much. So those drafts have been deleted and I’m glad I never have to see them again. 

I didn't think people would like Turbulence, I was going to delete it after a few hours and just keep it to myself but i'm glad that people liked it so ig it's here to stay. I tried to keep this one more contained then Turbulence bc writing about multiple days is such a pain.

I really don’t know what else I might write about for these two, or in general, so if you have any suggestions feel free to send them to me. If your suggestion inspires me, you better believe that I'm going to get out of bed at 2 in the morning and start writing. Or we can bury these two in a shallow grave and forget they exist, which is also fine by me because I think fic aged me.

[kagomesama]

Ok everyone... Just a second...

I never post like that, but it made me itch....

Tennito weirdo....

Analyse their style for the first picture:

They are all in mode " hello there!!! "

- Illusionary Phantom: made up like the rock band Kiss

- Instant Moment: dressed between Indian and Viking, idk 🤷‍♀️

- Shrieking Scream: what is this chicken sword????

- Rumbling Thunder: Apart from his look mad savant, his sword is class!

- Murky Darkness: his look is close to ninja-type, with Hinata's eyes 😶

- Balanced Equilibrium: head tattooed with ninja stars... And his moon spear

- Violent Force: vampire bat with stars in the eyes. I like him idk why

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

Well, the second picture:

There are so serious.

- Destructive Devastation: ninja with knight armor... Well... Ok... Look his weapon.

- Hued Color: whoshh... He can exorcise you with his third eye.

- Freezing Ice: he is wearing an office worker costume and Poseidon's triden

- Slaughterous Massacre: he is very very creepy.. Massacre with a hacksaw.

- Empyrean Sky: aaaah!! My favorite! He looks like Lady Bug in Miraculous !!! And a hell of a weapon collection!!!

- Mulicolored Raimbow : watch his pirate saber!!!

- Melodic Tune: looks like Annie in League of Legends.

- Brawny Muscle : third pillar of rugby and a little of Hokuto no Ken

Here, I put it there.... 😶

[aldisobey]

🌳WIP Wednesday🌳

Tagged by a true savant of the savory script @heylittleriotact and figure I can add a snippet from the longer fic I’m working on. This bit is set maybe a few weeks after Epilogue everything is still very rough and subject to change. Everything’s a mess right now but we’re having fun because the beat sheet is fun hell yeah.

I’ll throw tags @pluckedstrings @by-ilmater if y’all have anything to share with me! (No pressure). Anyone and everyone tag me in their stuff I want to seeeee. ( @emmg I know you’ve been tagged but I’m taggin ya so you can see)

—————

The Fade sky hinted blue, rolled with ochre clouds, a harsh light, white, flickered source less on the whispering lilac leaves of a massive tree. The trunk black, at times glinting deep purple. Six mean arm spans would be needed to embrace it whole. Roots spread varicose, some thick, others thin, and all creeping half out of ground, crawling far as they might reach. Digging, grasping at the pale mint of the ground below, a fist clenched in ‘earth’, a smell of moss and sap which ran, here and there, chartreuse, cobalt, burgundy.

It twisted, sturdy with mild lean, a spiraling in the bark pattern, and near where crown began it splintered, parted in paths, heart-like. All those branches spread achingly, greedy in the manner of great arteries with their countless capillary offshoots, propagated veins latched diagonal, fell down in lines. Dense with barely a trace of light reaching ground through all the dancing of countless hushed leaves, movements languid, liquid, as if the entire beast were submerged.

A voice could be heard, a faint echo hint, “...and dearest when the season turns we can go skating.” Almost a hum, “Perhaps. You might learn to swim first.” Stronger there a moment, a pause. “Classes are always running should something strike your fancy, for swimming as well. Though that, I think, is something I’d share with you.” Emmrich sat nestled into the tree with Rook’s head in his lap. The space of trunk and root and branch folded around them as if held in gentle palm. The man lay flat, cradled by earth and bone and bark while the lich played at making small braids in the shoulder length waves of auburn hair.

Emmrich’s voice was ever present, rhythmic words and a gentle laugh as he twined bits of glinting fabric in the hair. Gold perhaps. Or silver. At times emerald, sapphire, ruby, but such was Fade that it played with sight and it was difficult to perceive. But the professor kept a low voice talking, pastoral. One with a critical eye would note the diligence, the hunched figure of the skeleton as he bent focused to the work at hand. Those linen wrapped bones were steady. Still as death with every shining strand added.

“Emmrich…” Rook’s voice soft, as if spoken while dreaming.

The necromancer ceased all movement, skull tilting over quick to catch a word, “Yes my love?”

Too pale lips smiled, “You sound…” Rook’s finger’s twitched, made to rise, perhaps to touch at Emmrich’s face, but they were caught. The lich brought his hand to them, laced his fingers with Rook’s and squeezed tight, “...worried.” Words out with a sigh, still blissful.

“Dearest heart, it is nothing for you to trouble over, simply the stressors of being the ‘Young’ Volkarin among my peers. All is well. You are safe here.” Clothed thumb wiped the man’s brow, came back wet. Sweat starting to bead. Rook mumbled something unintelligible, millisecond of a grimace, and then a sigh, “Everything,” Emmrich trailed his fingers on the man’s head, a glancing cooling kiss of linen as Rook muttered, “...feels heavy.”

“Like…” His chest moved a little faster, color in cheek draining. “underwater…” Emmrich gave a start, hand flinching back from Rook’s head. “But…hot.”

“Oh, my darling Rook, rest. Take a breath. Slow. Deep. As you’ve practiced. I’ll return shortly.” And in a swift movement the roots and trunk and earth shifted, took hold where Emmrich had held as he slipped out and away. Rook nudged not an inch, only a few strands of hair falling heavy with their gilding.

Emmrich didn’t walk so much as ‘shift’ from where he’d been, and Fade melded real, soles of his shoes heavy on the stone floor. The bulk form of spreading branches remained above, trunk connecting to roots below, shape only similar now, in all metallic hue, as physical came to view.

[daanilion]

The Greek Gods Legacy: A legacy challenge for the Sims 4

This is a 10 generation legacy challenge I thought about randomly one day remembering my childhood hyperfixation on Greek mythology. There are a few legacy challenges based around this concept already out there but I wanted to create my own! Some other versions of this challenge can be found here and here. Please check out these other challenges & find one you enjoy if my rendition isn't for you. Thank you & any helpful feedback would be appreciated!

BASIC RULES:

Cheats are allowed, play how you like to play!

Each generation is given a few colors that you can use as their color scheme, but it is totally optional. The traits, career, aspiration & skills listed under each generation are not optional & must be assigned & completed fully in order to move on to the next generation

The heirs can be of any gender, but I would recommend naming them the exact names of the gods/goddesses they are based after. I have tried to make the rules for each generation as genderless as possible so you can freely pick what gender you prefer to play with

There are 2 generations with 2 heir options: simply pick one of the heirs to play with & only focus on the requirements for the heir you chose, even if the other option is in your active household

Feel free to change any aspect of the challenge that you want to! Don't have a certain pack mentioned in multiple generations? Just skip those rules or substitute them with whatever you want & have fun with it!

Generation 1: Zeus/Hera

Zeus - God of the Sky & Weather (White, Indigo, Yellow)

Traits: Noncommittal, High Maintenance & Ambitious Career: Astronaut (Space Ranger branch) Aspiration: Successful Lineage Skills: Handiness, Rocket Science

Become a Spellcaster, reach the highest level & gain immortality

Own & fully upgrade a weather machine; change the weather to a thunder storm whenever your main emotion is negative & clear/sunny whenever your main emotion is positive

Buy the "Storm Chaser" trait from the reward store

Declare "stormy" as favorite weather type

Marry a feminine presenting sim named Hera & cheat on them very often

Have multiple children outside of your marriage

Adopt a child named Athena; this is the next heir

Have a negative relationship with all of your children except for the next heir

Never divorce your spouse, even if they catch you cheating

Hera - Goddess of Marriage & Fertility (Blue, Green, Teal)

Traits: Jealous, Mean, Family-Oriented Career: Doctor Aspiration: Soulmate Skills: Parenting, Logic

Become a Spellcaster & learn all of the Mischief & Untamed Magic spells

Buy the "Fertile" trait from the reward store

Marry a masculine presenting sim named Zeus & have 5 children with them

Catch your spouse cheating on you at least once but never divorce them

Gain the "Strained" romance dynamic with your spouse

Become enemies with all of the people your spouse cheats on you with as well as the children they have with your spouse

Use your spellcaster abilities against your enemies

Have a positive relationship with all of your biological children; have a negative relationship with your spouse's adopted child

Fall in love with a coworker & emotionally cheat, but never make the cheating physical

Generation 2 - Athena

Athena - Goddess of War, Wisdom & Handicrafts (Sky Blue, Grey, Light Yellow)

Traits: Genius, Perfectionist, Hot Headed Career: Engineer (either branch) Aspiration: Renaissance Sim Skills: Robotics, Cross Stitching, Knitting, Logic

Begin cross stitching & knitting as a child & continue to do so into adulthood

Join the Chess Team in high school

Buy the "Night Owl" trait from the reward store

Get an A in high school & graduate early

Get a distinguished degree in either Physics or Computer Science

Join the Bot Savants University Organization & fall in love with another member

Have a baby during your last semester in university with your partner, only for them to die before or right after the baby is born

Never get married or date after this

Create a Servo-Bot & name them after your partner

Have a neutral relationship with your child as they remind you too much of your loss to either hate or love

Generation 3 - Hades

Hades - God of the Underworld (Black, Silver, Dark Purple)

Traits: Gloomy, Loner, Macabre Career: Reaper Aspiration: Ghost Historian Skills: Thanatology

Move to Forgotten Hollow as a Young Adult & live in a large, abandoned home that has the "Spooky" lot challenge (can also be a Haunted House Residential but that isn't necessary)

Have no friends or enemies for most of your life, simply just have acquaintances

Buy the "Brave" and "Needs No One" traits from the reward store

After one week of living in Forgotten Hollow, a young feminine presenting sim named Persephone comes into your life, becoming your first friend

Invite Persephone to your household & marry them

Persephone should declare "sunny" as their favorite weather type & should go on vacation during the summer & spring seasons (either move them out during these seasons or literally go on vacation with them)

Have at least one child with your spouse

Befriend ghost sims after marriage

Bring your dead parent back to life & finally befriend the previous heir

Own 3 dogs that are "aggressive" breeds

Generation 4 - Ares

Ares - God of War (Red, Crimson, Gold)

Traits: Evil, Erratic, Self-Assured Career: Military (Covert Operator branch) Aspiration: Public Enemy Skills: Fitness, Logic

Join the Football Team as a teenager

Gain an atrocious reputation

Have a negative relationship with at least 10 sims, 5 of which being declared enemies

Get into at least 20 fights

Become a vampire

Have multiple flings/relationships with various sims

Have multiple children with different people & never interact with mostly all of them

Have twins (one boy, one girl) with a sim, marry the sim you have them with & raise the twins (cheat the the twins if necessary)

Have a happy marriage until the twins become toddlers or older; the marriage then will fall apart & you will divorce your spouse

In the divorce, your ex spouse gets one of the twins while you get the other; whichever twin you keep in the active household will be the next heir

Have a full friendship bar with the next heir & a full negative friendship bar with the other twin

Generation 5 - Artemis/Apollo

Artemis - Goddess of the Moon & Wild Animals (Light Green, Light Brown)

Traits: Rancher, Loves the Outdoors, Animal Enthusiast Career: N/A or Player's Choice Aspiration: Country Caretaker, Werewolf Skills: Pet Training, Herbalism

Live in Moonwood Mill on the empty lot

Explore the tunnels of Moonwood Mill, resulting in you becoming a werewolf

Always have at least one pet in the household at all times; at some point, have a horse, dog and a cat at the same time

Own at least one of each farm animal (chicken, cow, llama, mini goat & mini sheep)

Have a full friendship bar with all of your animals

At least gain the Veterinarian skill & make vet treats when needed for your pets

Buy the "Night Owl" trait from the reward store

Every full moon, harvest a moonpetal & attend the Full Moon Revelry in Ravenwood

Marry another werewolf & have at least 3 children with them (the heir should not be a werewolf but they might be born as one; just cure them or cheat them to be a non-occult sim)

Cure yourself of being a werewolf once you finish the Werewolf aspiration

Apollo - God of Music, Art & Light (Orange, Gold & Off-White)

Traits: Music Lover, Outgoing & Proper Career: Entertainer (Musician branch) Aspiration: Musical Genius Skills: Violin, Piano, Guitar

Play the violin as a child as much as possible

Live in a warm climate town (such as Oasis Springs, Chestnut Ridge, etc.)

Write poem books & paint paintings in your free time

Visit museums often

Declare "sunny" as your favorite weather & always go out on the town when the forecast is "sunny"

Throw fancy parties every Saturday where you perform songs and read poems to the guests

Buy the "Morning Sim" trait from the reward store

Marry a sim of the same sex but have relationships with sims of all genders before marriage

Have at least one science baby with your spouse & another baby with a different sim (can happen before or during marriage)

Generation 6 - Poseidon

Poseidon - God of the Sea & Horses (Ocean Blue & Seafoam Green)

Traits: Child of the Ocean, Horse Lover & Freegan Career: Conservationist (Marine Biology branch) Aspiration: Championship Rider Skills: Horse Riding, Logic

Live on a lot by the ocean in Sulani with the "Off the Grid" lot challenge

Help restore the islands of Sulani

Complete the Sulani Treasures collection

Own an "immortal" horse that you fully train & compete in championships with

Shower in the rain, ocean or waterfall as much as possible

Befriend a dolphin

Fall in love with a feminine presenting sim named Amphitrite that is a mermaid & has the "Child of the Islands" trait

Have spouse summon the Island Elementals & then have a child with one (this will be the next heir)

Have 4 children with your spouse

Generation 7 - Demeter

Demeter - Goddess of Agriculture (Olive Green, Auburn)

Traits: Loves the Outdoors, Good, Family Oriented Career: Gardener (Botanist branch) Aspiration: Freelance Botanist Skills: Gardening

Live in Henford-on-Bagley in either the Old New Henford or Bramblewood neighborhoods

Home lot must have the "Simple Living" lot challenge & the "Great Soil" lot trait

Buy the "Green Thumb" trait from the reward store

Grow one large crop of each kind (lettuce, pumpkin, aubergine & watermelon)

Compete in the various fairs held in Henford-on-Bagley & win at least one

Grow one of each type of plant (excluding the alien plants & werewolf/vampire related ones)

Use the "Gift of Sulani" interaction on all of your crops at least once

Grow all crops to perfect quality

Gain the "Outdoorsy" lifestyle

Marry a sim of any gender & have at least 3 children with them

Generation 8 - Aphrodite

Aphrodite - Goddess of Love & Beauty (Pink, Light Purple, Light Teal)

Traits: Romantic, Self-Absorbed, Snob Career: Romance Guru (Matchmaker branch) Aspiration: Romantic Explorer, Paragon Partner Skills: Romance, Charisma

As a teen, sneak out of the house to go on dates with various sims & fight with parents about this

Become/get another sim pregnant as a teen (or as soon as you become a young adult)

Have a negative relationship with both of your parents & move in with your partner as soon as you become a young adult

Live in Tartosa as soon as possible

Buy the "Great Kisser" & "Beguiling" traits from the reward store

Gain the "Hungry for Love" lifestyle

Have at least 5 friends that you help hook up with others

Halfway through your adulthood, your parents demand that you marry a local masculine presenting sim named Hephaestus who you view as unattractive & have awful compatibility with; marry him despite not wanting to

While married, have a baby with Hephaestus & 2 more with 2 other sims outside of the marriage (this excludes your first child)

The baby you have with your spouse will be the next heir

Get caught cheating & divorce your spouse

Generation 9 - Dionysus

Dionysus - God of Wine & Festivity (Purple, Green & Gold)

Traits: Party Animal, Foodie & Insider Career: Actor Aspiration: Party Animal, Master Actor Skills: Acting, Nectar Making, Mixology

As a child/teen, join the drama club & reach level 5 of the acting skill by adulthood

By adulthood, own a club with 5 of your childhood friends

Begin making wine & various mixed drinks and host wine tasting parties for your friends at least 2 times a week

Become a 5-star celebrity & gain the "Juiced Up" celebrity quirk

Live in Del Sol Valley's Pinnacles neighborhood in a Mediterranean inspired mansion

Fall in love with one of your friends & have a baby with them

After having the baby, cool off the romantic relationship with your friend & raise the baby alone

Stay single until you are about to become an elder & then reconnect with your friend & marry them

You can have children with other sims, but you must only have the one baby/pregnancy with your future spouse

Generation 10 - Hermes

Hermes - God of Travel & Trickery (Burnt Orange, Blue, Gold)

Traits: Adventurous, Outgoing, Kleptomaniac Career: Paranormal Investigator Aspiration: Friend of the World, Extreme Sports Enthusiast Skills: Mischief, Rock Climbing

Buy the "Paranormal Investigator License" from the reward store

Live in Ravenwood

Every week go on vacation to a new world, never staying at the same lot twice

While vacationing you must specific these worlds & do these activities at some point:

Mt Komorebi - Climb Mt. Komorebi successfully

Selvadorada - Raid a tomb & get to at least level 3 of the Selvadoradian Culture & Archeology skills

Granite Falls - Visit the Hermit & get to at least level 3 of the Herbalism skill

Strangerville - Solve the Strangerville mystery

Sulani - Drive a water vehicle, get sunburnt & attend a local festival

Ciudad Enamorada - WooHoo in the motel

Take a photo on every vacation & hang them up in your home

On each vacation & gig, you must steal 1 item while there

Gain the "Frequent Traveler" lifestyle

Befriend one of each type of occult

Own a voodoo doll

Own a museum or collectibles shop (either through Businesses & Hobbies or Get to Work) where you show off or sell your stolen goods

And that is the Greek Gods Legacy Challenge for the Sims 4! Please let me know if anything I wrote doesn't make sense or you are struggling with the gameplay.

[dc-megatournament]

DC Ladies Only Tournament

Match ups for Round 1

Thanks to @circlejourney for their tournament bracket generator. It really helps make these a lot easier.

PLEASE DO NOT SUBMIT ANY CHARACTERS FOR THIS TOURNAMENT. EVERYTHING IS ALREADY PRE PLANNED.

There are 400 DC Ladies in this tournament. Lets see whos the best of the best.

Leslie Thompkins vs Gamemnae Tula vs Pandora Powerhouse/Naomi McDuffie vs Spoiler/Stephanie Brown Sky Alchesay vs Giganta Sungirl vs Black Canary/Dinah Laurel Lance Susan Shoemaker vs Freefall (tie) Scandal Savage vs Black Alice Cupid vs Elvith Superwoman/Lucy Lane vs Virtue/Holly Ann Fields Psi/Gayle Marsh vs Sue Dibny Lodestone vs Silver Slasher/Ki-Lan Queen Bee vs The Wanderer/Vitoria Phantom Lady/Dee Tyler vs Nicki Jones (tie) Madison Payne vs Silver Banshee Redwing/Carrie Levine vs Martha Kent Hera vs Dorothy Spinner Kathy George vs Godiva Barbara Gordon vs Dream Girl Dawn Allen vs Lana Lang (tie) Wonder Woman vs Vicki Grant Marilyn Moonlight vs Maxima Otho-Ra vs Coil Thorn/Rose Forrest vs Sayeh Livewire vs Nubia Zealot/Lady Zannah vs Phantom Lady/Stormy Knight Alex Danvers vs Vengeance Moth Bulletgirl/Susan Kent vs Plastique Jenny Sparks vs Nemesis/Soseh Mykros Emerald Empress vs Stargirl Blackstarr/Rachel Berkowitz vs Jayna Magenta vs Saturn Queen Inferno vs Maps Mizoguchi

Darla Dudley vs Tao Jones/Siong Spider-Girl/Sussa Paka vs Sojourner Mullein Roxy Rocket vs Blitzen/Valerie Kameya Star Sapphire/Carol Ferris vs Battleaxe Crow Jane vs Wink Onyx vs Psyche Shadow Lass vs Maggie Sawyer Arkham Knight vs Atlanna White Canary vs Rocket Shay Veritas vs Naomi McDuffie Julie Madison vs Iolande Shimmer vs Catwoman/Holly Robinson Willow Zimmerman vs Peek-a-Boo Lady Frankenstein vs Nightshade Crazy Jane vs Lyssa Drak Katana vs Sabina Punchline vs Bolt/Alinta Laodice vs Jinx Catgirl/Kitrina Falcone vs Lady Shiva Supergirl/Linda Danvers vs Wonder-Woman/Peng Deilan Gazelle vs Jenny Quantum Fever vs Brick House/Marta Emilia Harcourt vs Summer Pickens Aquamaria/Maria vs Juniper Bleez vs Avery Ho Zatanna vs Firebrand/Danette Reilly Mirage/Miriam Delgado vs Dreamer Swift/Shen Li-Min vs Caitlin Fairchild Arisia vs Mayfly/Moon Robinson Silver Swan/Vanessa Jane Kapatelis vs Beast Girl/Kareli Carmen Leno vs Lightning/Jennifer Pierce Inza Nelson vs Atomica

Jeyra Entinn vs Mongal Sister Superior vs Lois Lane Blackfire vs Alanna Strange Libby Lawrence vs Saturn Girl Cheshire vs Silk Spectre/Laurie Juspeczyk Looker/Emily Briggs vs Power Girl/Kara Zor-L/Karen Starr Comet/Andrea Martinez vs Halo Space Case/Casey Brinke vs Knight/Beryl Hutchinson Nina Mazursky vs Breeze Nudge vs Cameron Chase Vixen vs Magpie Poison Ivy vs Rose Wilson Sublime vs Jaquar Lena Luthor vs Enchantress Lady Clayface vs Quantum Queen Snarlgoyle vs Akka Sarah Essen vs Artemis Crock Flashback/Sara Quinones vs Ventriloquist Antiope vs Little Miss Redhead/Janie Ice/Tora Olafsdotter vs Freak Katharsis/Kulap Vilaysack vs Doctor Poison/Marina Maru Speedy/Mia Dearden vs Harley Quinn/Dr Harleen Quinzel Beautiful Dreamer vs Operator Misfit/Charlie Gage Radcliffe vs Ryan Wilder Batwoman/Kathy Kane vs Jade Mercy Graves vs Firehawk/Lorraine Reilly Maya Ducard vs Black Orchid Sidewinder vs Iota/Isadora Wellington-Smythe The Whip/Shelly Gaynor/Michelle Gaynor vs Defacer Janissary/Selma Tolon vs Guillotina/Necahual Martinez Bumblebee vs Menagerie/Sonja Tiffany Fox vs Alura-El

Divine vs Killer Frost/Louise Lincoln White Witch vs Abby Holland Wildcat/Yolanda Montez vs China White Lady Vic vs Bekka Crimson Avenger/Jill Carlyle vs Adeline Wilson Andromeda vs Phantom Girl Verdict/Sam Payne vs Cheetah/Barbara Minerva Carrie Kelley vs Vicki Vale Grace Choi vs Jolt/Carlotta Rivera Harmonia Li vs Manteau/Roxie Hodder Circe vs Amazing Woman/Erik Storn/Erika Strong Amethyst vs Catspaw Celsius vs Thunder/Anissa Pierce Faora Hu-Ul vs Emiko Queen Hawkgirl/Kendra Saunders vs Traci 13 Deep Blue/Mizuko "Debbie" Perkins vs Manhunter/Kate Spencer Savant vs Kole Weathers Lara Kent vs Raven Sleepwalk vs Phillipus June Robbins vs Andrea Allen Sonia Sato vs Scream Queen Faith vs Steel/Natasha Irons Nocturna vs Knockout/Kay Fury Flatline/Nika vs Jessica Cruz Huntress/Helena Bertinelli vs Flamebird/Bette Kane Madame Xanadu vs Cheetah/Deborah Domanine Miss America vs Phase Liar Liar vs Golden Glider Thunder vs Chameleon Girl Cat Grant vs Cyborgirl Linda Park West vs Cyclone Shrinking Violet vs Lori Lemais

Sparx vs Aura/Lindsey Wah Red Canary vs Kristen Wells Tremor/Roshanna Chatterji vs Manitou Dawn Jesse Quick vs Bonny Hoffman Empathy/Lucia vs Kathy Branden Tanya Spears vs Dawn Granger Meow Meow vs Iris West Allen Lightning Lass vs Isis Copycat vs Fatality/Yrra Cynril Sensor Girl/Princess Projectra/Wilimena Morgana Daergina Annaxandra Projectra Velorya Vauxhall vs Artemis Grace Trajectory/Eliza Harmon vs Gimmix/Jacqueline Pemberton Strange Visitor vs Lara Lor-Van Valentina Vostok vs Shrike/Vanessa Kingsbury Mad Harriet vs Silver Sorceress La Sangre vs Karin Grace Lian Harper vs Chloe Sullivan Wither/Jade Tice vs Lori Morning Gypsy/Cynthia Reynolds vs Goldstar/Michelle Carter Mary Marvel vs Voodoo Blacksmith vs Killer Frost/Crystal Frost Batwoman/Kate Kane vs Fire/Beatriz da Costa Dusk vs Lilith Clay Iris “Irey” West vs Dolphin Yara Flor vs Night Girl Queen of Fables vs Miss Martian Terra vs Monstergirl/Rita Lopez Phantom Lady/Sandra Knight vs Lisa Jennings Lady Blackhawk vs Djinn Aquagirl/Lorena Marquez vs Hope Taya Renee Montoya vs Solstice Nightmare Nurse/Asa vs Amanda Waller Phantom Lady/Jennifer Knight vs Nightstar

Thara Ak-Var vs Talia al Ghul Killer Frost/Caitlin Snow vs Dr Mid-Nite Big Barda/Barda Free vs Starfire Gotham Girl vs Hawkwoman/Shiera Hall Cheetah/Priscilla Rich vs Bombshell Queen Clea vs Doctor Multiverse Catwalk vs Gilotina Weather Witch vs Jennifer Morgan Wonder Girl/Cassie Sandsmark vs Medusa/Dr. Myrna Rhodes Mera vs Chaos Kitten Heatstroke/Joanne vs Dr Light/Kimiyo Hoshi Mindboggler/Leah Wasserman vs Puff Enigma/Quinn Nash vs Silk Spectre/Laurie Juspeczyk XS vs Princess Andy Tuppence Terror vs Tarot Silk Spectre/Laurel Jane Juspeczyk vs Shocking Suzi/Jo Hamill Hippolyta vs Bright Eyes/Sienna Lopez Batgirl/Cassandra Cain vs Tam Fox Temper/Avia Joby Weinberg vs Supergirl Mother One/Rachel Lynn Rhodes vs Donna Troy Maxine Baker vs Duela Dent Urcell vs Atlee Little Barda vs Coagula Linear Woman/Liri Lee vs Madame Rouge Bratgirl/Merissa Cooper vs Dr. Francine Langstrom Empress/Anita Fite vs Windfall/Wendy Jones Primer/Ashley Rayburn vs Argent/Toni Monetti Alysia Yeoh vs Element Woman/Emily Sung Maria Mendoza vs Jinny Hex Hawk/Holly Granger vs Elasti-Woman Christine Blaze vs Arrowette/Cissie King Jones Teen Lantern vs Summer Zahid

Forerunner vs Ice Maiden Matrix vs Iron Butterfly/Kahina Eskandari Dawnstar vs Esper Lass/Meta Ulnoor Catwoman/Eiko Hasigawa vs Encantadora/Lourdes Lucero Beauty Blaze vs Ya’Wara Catwoman/Selina Kyle vs Cir-El Pantha/Rosabelle Mendez vs Bulleteer/Alix Harrower Ursa vs Bluebird/Harper Row

[huramuna]

beware the sapphire peak - chapter 2.

aemond targaryen x wife reader x alys rivers a period piece, set in 1902.

prev | next

wordcount: 4.8k

you're a young, american lady who is an aspiring author. you are wooed by a mysterious and charming savant from england. swept off your feet, you're whisked away to his family's ancient estate, Dragonstone Hall. but with all stories, secrets are hiding around every corner, and your suitor is no different. a crimson peak inspired mini series.

@huramuna-fics - follow & turn on notifications for just my fic postings! i don't do taglists right now, so sorry!

content: smut (specifics below cut), angst, gaslighting, unhealthy relationships, manipulation, alys in her girlboss gatekeep gaslight era, no use of y/n, afab reader, pre-established alysmond, this isn't going where you think it is(it might be), infidelity-ish, polyamory, mentions of infertility, murder, depictions of murder/violence

once upon a december - invadable harmony • reflections - toshifumi hinata

warnings: oral (f receiving), p in v, creampie, inappropriate use of high valyrian

As you passed through the threshold of the building, you looked upon the tapestries that lined the walls– they seemed to tell a story, a story of dragons, war, betrayal and succession. The woven tapestries were over eight feet tall, hanging from old iron nails that pinned them to the stone bulwark. Beyond those, were the beginnings of many, many portraits of Targaryens long passed. They were all otherworldly looking, your eyes glazing over at their perfectly captured features. 

Aemond’s gentle squeeze to your hand brought you back to reality, following the line of your gaze to the portraits. “Some people have said that Targaryens are closer to Gods than people,” he smirked, chuckling softly. “When we rode dragons and conquered land and sky, perhaps. But not now– we are merely mortals once again.”

“Ah, and here I thought I married an immortal being, what a pity.” you jested, your tongue poking in your cheek. 

“A pity indeed– luckily I snagged myself a Goddess, hm?” he whispered lowly, craning his head to nose at your jawline, planting little kisses upon your soft skin. He was so close to you, his scent all consuming in your nostrils as you drank in the feather light touch of his lips upon you. You were surprised that you’d made it into the building without the both of you making love on the floor like rutting animals, truly. 

The sound of heels clicking pulled you both from your stupor. As you turned around, you looked upon the woman that was in the window, the real one, atleast. She was tall, a few inches shorter than Aemond, but she still towered over you– they both did– her hair was pinned in a neat half-do, the slightly wavy tresses in a gorgeous, deep brown color, like freshly brewed coffee. Her eyes, a lively emerald green, blinked slowly as she looked you up and down, assessing you. She seemed to be more mature than you and Aemond, likely by fifteen or so years. The only indication of her age were the soft gleam of one or two errant gray hairs and the lines of her face, laugh lines, crow’s feet alike, were illuminated under the flickering light in the foyer. She wore a deep green dress, a similar shade to her eyes. “Lord Targaryen, Lady Targaryen,” she greeted, her voice deep and silky– it reminded you of the timbre of a wonderful cello you’d heard in an orchestra in New York City, instantly sending your heart aflutter. 

“My love, this is Alys Rivers. She is the estate’s governess,” Aemond introduced, one eye lingering upon Alys before returning to you. “She’s been with us for many years and is more than happy to help you get acquainted with the ins-and-outs of the Keep.” 

You suddenly remembered your manners, hand extended out to her. “Miss Rivers, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” you smiled, your hand enveloped by hers. It was a bit cold, but warmed up quickly within your own. 

“And you, my lady. I’m sure we will become fast friends.” Alys responded coolly, her mouth perking into a similar grin, her thumb lingering over the back of your hand for a bit longer than necessary as she squeezed it lightly before letting go

Certainly you didn’t imagine that? 

“It is good to see you again, Alys. I hope to not be away from the estate for so long again,” Aemond hummed, watching as you and the governess’ hands lingered with one another, then turning back to face you. “Shall we get settled in, my dear?” he asked. You knew exactly what he meant by settling in– and it would be the opposite of what you would be doing.

“It is good to have you back, Lord Targaryen. Let us hope you won’t need to leave again any time soon.” Alys gave a wry smile, regarding you both before curtsying and flittering away. 

Aemond led you up the stairs, up to the third floor, where the master bedroom lay. The hallways narrowed as you traversed the home, with Aemond pointing out a few of the key points of the estate to you on the way. Then, he stopped at a gilded pair of double doors, the handles were beautifully complex dragons carved from a deep brown and red cedar, their eyes fashioned from jewels. It was the height of opulence– edging on gaudiness for your taste, but you married into practical royalty, so you couldn’t complain.

Opening them, it revealed a large room decorated in black and green, with the occasional splash of red and gold. The walls were lined with towering bookshelves, cornered by a soft reading nook with two plush chairs. The bed was spacious, twice the size of the bed you had at home, which was a king size– you didn’t even know what to classify this size as. Monarch size? Dragon size? It was huge, that was all you knew, furnished in a soft red velvet sheet set. 

You walked to the bed, fingers glazing over the silken soft sheets. “This is… the softest thing I’ve ever felt in my life, my God.” you murmured, beginning to unbutton your outer coat and shed your layers. You wished to feel the plush silk on your bare skin.

“I hope it’s to your liking, love.” Aemond came up behind you, helping you shed your unsightly amount of layers until you were in your silken shift and undergarments. His hand began to wander, bunching up the fabric of your shift and pulling it upward, until he could rest his hand on your bare stomach.

The sensation of his warm hand on your stomach made you flutter slightly, pressing back against him. “Yes, I’d say it’s quite to my liking– though, I suppose we shall put it to the test, won’t we?” you teased, your arm coming up to caress his cheek.

As your hand touched his face, his hand rose up higher and higher, exploring further. His hand found solace atop your corseted brassiere, the tiniest growls of frustration escaping from his lips. His free hand began working double time to undo the series of laces. “You won’t be needing to wear these anymore, my love,” he grumbled, biting softly on your earlobe as he continued his race to undress you. “In fact, I’d like it if you didn’t wear anything at all.”

You giggled, shimmying out of the brassiere, to which he threw aside. “I’m sure that Miss Rivers would find that garish and uncouth, Aemond. I can come to a compromise, though,” you purred, switching around to where you were sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling him towards you by the hem of his shirt.

“A compromise,” he repeated, “And what sort of compromise would that be?” Aemond asked, kneeling down in front of you now.

“Perhaps I may not wear any undergarments at all under my clothes,” you whispered, craning your neck downward as you tilted his chin upward. “For easier access.”

The sound that came from Aemond could only be categorized as animalistic and primal, his lips melding with yours in a rising fervor. It was a clash of teeth and tongue, his hand pawing at your now freed breast, thumb and forefinger pinching your nipple– eliciting a surprised gasp from you. You’d never been touched in such a way and the little spark of pain that went through you mingled with your pleasure. You liked it, conveying this to your husband by increasing the fever pitch of your kisses, mouth parted as your tongues danced together in the most lascivious of ways, as if you were trying to eat one another alive. 

“What did I do,” he breathed between your assaults on each other’s mouths. “To deserve such a beautiful wife, hm?” his hand had become permanently rested on your breast, rubbing your stiffened nipple like he was trying to elicit every moan possible from you from just this alone. “A beautiful wife who makes all of the most beautiful little noises?” 

You were rendered speechless, your response coming out only as a whine as he pushed you back on the bed, pulling your underwear down. He made a noise of satisfaction at what he saw, seemingly pleased with how you looked, his hand grazing through your wisps of pubic hair before parting your soaked folds. You stared down at him beneath half-lidded eyes, your body heat emanating from you like a furnace, the heights of your cheeks red with pleasure. 

Aemond was continually spurred on by your state of being, like you were clay within his hands, and he was the sculptor. He nudged your legs open more, his fingers spreading you open. You whimpered as the cold air hit your core, but it was immediately replaced by a warm heat– his breath fanning over you. 

“Please,” was all that could come out of your mouth as you looked at him. 

His pupil was blown wide, the blue usually there eclipsed by black as he dragged his tongue over your folds, testing your taste. Humming in contentment with the taste, he went back in for another, lapping over your wet sex, the cleft of his nose rubbing against your clit. You fought the urge to close your legs out of instinct, feeling a warm sensation barrelling toward you as if you needed to relieve yourself. Your eyes were more open now in a slight panic at the feeling, but Aemond just grinned, keeping up his pace and even quickening it.

You grasped at his hair, the white-blonde strands fisted in your hand as you moaned broken strings of his name as your first orgasm washed over you, and in turn, him. You felt a rush of wetness come from your body, which was now glistening upon Aemond’s maw, his mouth still twisted into a smile, like he had just had the greatest meal of his life. He came up between your legs again, unbuckling his belt and discarding his trousers and undergarments without much ceremony– you both didn’t have time for it now, especially when you could see the weeping need coming from him, dripping at the tip of his cock. 

His lips found yours again, and you could taste yourself on his tongue. You didn’t consider yourself a sexual woman really, but God, if this wasn’t the epitome of eroticism– you wanted this moment seared into your brain like a brand. 

“I’ll go slow, love,” he breathed, lips barely parted from yours. “Let me know if it’s too much.”

You nodded in affirmation, not capable of forming words at the moment. You hope you'll become more adept at dirty talk, just seeing how one ‘Please’ spurred your husband into action like a horse at a derby. You felt the head of his cock swipe against your soaked core, then slowly easing in. The stretch alone, the flame of pain that was just there, right on the precipice, ignited that familiar feeling within you once more. It was goddamn delicious, the feeling of being full, full of your husband– the thought made your eyes roll back in your head for a moment as he buried himself to the hilt.

The cherry on top, however, was when you finally got a glimpse of Aemond’s face– both of his eyes were closed, mouth slightly agape, hair strewn mess. He was concentrating so intensely on not bursting inside of you within seconds, as your tightness squeezed him like a vice. “Fuck,” he grunted, his use of foul language sending shocks of pleasure throughout your extremities. “You’re so tight– Christ above.” Aemond began to move then, thrusting back and forth, just to focus his mind on the motions and not to bust a moment in. He murmured praises in your ear, some in English and some in another language you didn’t understand, but it was primal and ancient, you could tell just by how he sounded out the words, and it was no doubt something dirty and more than likely downright feral. “Issa gevie ābrazȳrys, sīr ȳrda, sīr vok. Ry ñuhon, ry ñuhon.” My beautiful wife, so tight, so perfect. All mine, all mine.

Judging by how he pounded into you, the sound of flesh against flesh filling the room, coupled with your cacophony of whines and moans, he was close, chasing his high. His pace hastened and your legs fastened around his midsection to keep him as close as possible– a reaction your body made on its own, seemingly. 

A sequence of unintelligible curses and erotic sweet-nothings came from his mouth as he gave one final push– a low, reverberating grunt coming from the depths of his chest as he stilled, spending inside of you. His lips smeared against your neck, nothing coming from his mouth but hefty pants.

You both caught your breaths and he softened inside of you, then cleaned you both up after– you would’ve helped as well, but your legs were jelly, and simply refused to pick you up from the bed. Aemond was more than happy to pick you up and tuck you under the covers, holding you close to him, as if you might fly away during the night. 

You dreamed of dark hallways and pale visages looking upon you– you woke up several times during the night, seeing pairs of eyes staring at you, pity in their ghastly gaze. You would fall back asleep and think nothing of it.

–

“Looking at something, dearest?” Aemond hummed, his thumb parting another page further into the book he was reading, the room illuminated in candlelight. It had been a whole fortnight since you moved into the estate– you had been able to sit down and write even more, and Aemond had helped you send off your manuscript to a reputable publisher in London, who was a family friend of the Targaryens. You began your second novel, which was inspired by Dragonstone Hall and the odd dreams you’d had as of late, laden with peering eyes and ghostly figures.

You were perched on the window seat, the silk of your nightgown clinging to you like a second skin. Moving forward, you looked down upon the courtyard and beyond, seeing the moonlit horizon painting the sea, waves ebbing and flowing like beautiful clockwork. Glancing over your shoulder to your husband, his usual harsh features softened by the gentle flicker of the bee’s wax candles. A smile crept on your lips, which in turn, caused his own to upturn into a returning grin. “Just enjoying the view of the sea.”

“‘Tis dark, my love,” he closed the book, setting it aside. “Are you an owl and I did not know it? Seeing in the dark?” he got up from his position on the bed, making his way to you.

“Perhaps I am an owl,” you giggled, “But the moon and sky are especially clear tonight– a perfect view.”

He perched his chin upon your shoulder, looking out of the window with you. “A clear sky. That must be a good omen, hm? Alys has told me that it was storming constantly while I was gone.”

“A good omen indeed,” you purred, nuzzling your nose into his neck. Out of the corner of your eye, looking down into the courtyard, you could’ve sworn you saw two men, ghastly white, walking upon the green. But when you turned your head to get another look, Aemond enveloped your lips into a kiss, pulling you back towards him, and back towards your bed. You didn’t get another glimpse at the courtyard until it was cloudy and dark once again.

No one was there.

–

“Oh, hello, Miss Rivers,” you murmur softly, your voice still hoarse with sleep. You brush a few errant curls away from your face as you go to pour yourself a cup of tea, bare feet padding upon the tiled kitchen floor. “Good morning.”

“Just Alys is fine, dear,” she smiles, her emerald eyes shining clearly– she must’ve already been wide awake for a few hours. “Please, let me.” Alys sits up from her chair, moving near you and pouring water from the kettle into your cup before you could even grab it.

You glance up at her– she was much taller than you, like Aemond– a feeling of embarrassment coming over you. “Oh– thank you,” you manage to muster, “But it… it isn’t necessary, Mis– Alys.”

The older woman looks at you with an expression of curiosity, you had said something truly novel. “Ah. You aren’t like the others, then. Good.” she smiled, the sides of her mouth crinkling. Something about it made your heart skip a beat– what was going on?

“The others?” you asked, stirring your cup which was now steeping with a fruity, floral tea bag. You scooped a heap of sticky honey from a reserve of it on the counter, preferring your tea extra sweet. 

Alys watched as you stirred in the thick substance, before lifting her eyes to you. “The other– former– denizens of the estate, my lady. Lord Targaryen’s other family. Excellent employers, but they always asked for me to do things beyond my job description. Pour tea, serve lunch, draw baths." She took a seat then at the small kitchen table, but not before grabbing the entire jar of honey, putting it in the middle. 

You took a seat across from her. “As a… governess, your job is to care for and educate children, correct?” you crossed one leg over the other, leaning back against the wooden backing of the chair, which was carved with intricate depictions of dragons and swords.

“Correct, my lady. Sometimes the estate was bereft of children, thus no one to care for or teach. Between you and I, sometimes the adults acted as overgrown children, demanding and grabby,” she spooned honey into her own cup, which was a dark, swirling liquid you couldn’t quite identify. “As it is now– but more so. You, Lord Targaryen, and I are the only denizens of the Keep.”

You coughed slightly as you heard her. The only ones? There were only three of you at this massive estate– and… what of the faces you saw when you arrived? The men you saw out in the courtyard just the eve before? You placed down your cup with a shaky hand. “P-pardon me,” you sputtered, hitting a hand upon your chest to try and catch your breath. “We are the only ones?” you looked at Alys with wide eyes.

“Yes, my dear. But this building is centuries upon centuries old, you know. Do you believe in ghosts, Lady Targaryen?”

You perked up at the notion, the part of your brain that loved the macabre and weird firing off on all cylinders. “Oh, yes! They interest me quite greatly.”

Alys gave a lopsided smile, her brows perked as if surprised by your reaction. “I didn’t expect such… an enthusiastic response, my lady. Most women are afraid of such ghastly notions.” she leaned forward, propping her chin on her open palm. “The estate is haunted, you know, by centuries of Targaryens past and then some.” 

“Oh, you must tell me their names and stories,” you leaned forward in turn, mimicking her interest in the conversation and then some, fully enraptured by the tales of tragedy, of love long lost, betrayal and beyond. 

The two of you ended up talking at the table for hours, until the sun was high in the sky to indicate noon– you only parted with her when Aemond had come into the kitchen to request your presence in the gardens. He was quite amused that you and Alys had melded together so quickly– he quoted you as ‘two barn owls, flitting feathers in the rafters and sharing stories over a juicy mouse’. 

It made you giggle.

–

From that day on, your days started and ended much the same. You would be excited, giddy, like a kid on Christmas morn, to go down and talk to Alys. You didn’t quite understand why you were so excited to be around her, why she enraptured you so– it felt good to entertain her and make her laugh, much in the same vein as you felt doing similar for Aemond.

You admired her, in a way, she was such a strong woman, yet unmarried and without children. But she cited that she didn’t need them, the husband at least. She had confessed to you that she had been married before, long ago in her youth. ‘Young, dumb and in love’, she had explained it– only to find out that she was unable to have children. Your heart clenched as she told her story, how she desperately wanted children of her own and went into governess work to have some semblance of it. 

In turn, you opened your heart to Alys, confiding about your mother and the struggles with losing her at such a young age. You cried and embraced her, to which she returned wholeheartedly– but she didn’t cry.

Your nights would come to a close within Aemond’s grasp, whether upon the bed, prostrated on his desk, or in the reading nook. ‘Twas a dreamy life for you.

You woke on a particularly dreary morning, over three months after your marriage, the downpour of sodden English weather clouding the skies and dampening the moods of everyone involved. Lightning struck, thunder rumbling the ground thoroughly and without mercy. When you stepped out of your bedroom, Aemond was still asleep– he had worked through the night on a massive proposal to the Lord of the next town over, working out some trade routes to have fresh fruit brought up to the estate in exchange for the homegrown honey.

Your bare feet padded on the wooden floors, they were cold and the air felt… thick and slightly electrified. It sent your head into a tizzy as you grabbed the metal knob of the washroom door, feeling a sparking jolt go through you. It shocked you! Rattled, but undeterred, you put your hand on the knob again and attempted to open it, only to be met with another tremor of electricity, stinging the palm of your hand. 

“Come on,” you groaned in frustration, practically crossing your legs by how badly you needed to relieve yourself. Electroshock therapy be damned, you wouldn’t be shut out of the privy any longer. You pressed your shoulder to the door, twisting the knob as it continually pestered you with numbing sparks, then gave the door a firm push– it gave away, opening and sending you sprawling to the floor at a high velocity. You landed on your knees, face inches away from the lip of the tub; you cringed as you imagined the sight of your face smashed to a jelly, bleeding out upon the floor. Small mercies. 

Pulling yourself up, you glanced over the bathtub, using it as leverage to get up. Upon looking into it, you saw something you never expected to– a woman, nude and red haired with translucent skin was curled in the bath in a fetal position, her throat slashed and bleeding red rivulets, blending into the small droplets of water that lined the tub. You were too surprised to scream, pushing yourself back from the tub and once again sprawling to the floor, mouth agape. 

You were going insane– surely…

Your heart was in your throat as you eased up, glancing back into the tub. The woman was gone, the porcelain lining of the tub clean as could be. 

Mayhaps Alys’ ghost stories had gotten to you, more than you thought? 

Turning around to finally use the privy, you were in awe that you didn’t piss yourself, you sat down on the toilet, your head in your hands as you emptied your overly full bladder. It was silent, save for the sound of the rain pattering against the stained glass window pane, the distant rumble of thunder and… heavy breathing. You stopped your own breaths– the sound consisted. It was right in front of you. 

With shaky hands slowly moving away from your eyes, you looked upon who was in front of you. It was the woman you saw in the bathtub– her neck still bleeding, her eyes wide and bloodshot, her face stained with tears and blood. Her chest rose and fell heavily with her ghastly breaths as she stared right at you. Her jaw was broken, mouth off kilter as it was agape with her labored puffs, teeth askew and rotted. You still felt like you weren’t breathing, your heart pattering like a hummingbird in your chest, about to explode.

“Who. Are. You.” she asked, voice far away and broken, like a whisper on the wind.

“L-Lady Targaryen,” you responded, your head pounding in sync with your heart– you felt like you were about to pass out.

The woman looked at you, her already wide eyes widening beyond the point they should even be able to, the sclera eclipsed in pure red, tinging on inky black ichor. Her hand, gaunt and bony, raised to you, her pointer finger pointing at you, inches away. “You,” she hissed. “You. Won’t leave this place. You. Will die. And stay here. Bones and all. Sinew and muscle, pulled from flesh.”

“W-who are you? How can I help you?” you whispered frantically, your entire body shaking. 

Her mouth twisted into a sickly smile. “You. Cannot help. For I– am you. Lady Targaryen. One. Of many.”

You blinked, eyes roving to think of something to respond– but when you looked up, she was gone. The air was normal and the storm outside had quelled. It was as if nothing had happened. You sat still on the toilet, eyes open until they started to burn. 

What just happened? Are you truly going mad?

You rushed downstairs after, almost tripping and falling at least twice along the way. You rushed to find Alys, who you hoped would quell your mind like the storm had been. 

“Alys,” you croaked, flying into the kitchen like a bat out of hell. “Alys, Alys,” you blubbered, you weren’t sure when you started crying. 

She was sitting at the table, up in an instant. “My dear, my dear, what’s happened? Are you alright?” she crooned, arms around you instantly. 

“I-I… please, promise you won’t think I’m mad–” 

“We are all mad in some ways, dearest. You can tell me anything.” she hummed, sitting you down on your chair and fixing your tea for you, bringing over the fresh honey, the comb still attached. 

“T-there was a woman,” you breathed, your finger slicing across your neck to indicate where her bleeding wound had been. “S-she… she… she said I’m going to die?” you took your tea with a shaky hand, sipping, but it didn’t help calm you. “I-I’m a horror author, I shouldn’t be scared of this sort of thing, Alys! What is wrong with me? I’m going mad.”

“Shh, shh, dove,” she instructed, pulling her chair around the table to sit close to you, arm still around you. “Just breathe– did you get enough sleep last night?”

“Y-yes– I.. I think so,” you murmured, hands still shaking.

Alys took your hand in hers, the other going to spoon some honey from the bowl. She roved small smoothing circles over the back of your palm. “You must get more rest, dearest. I’ll make you a tea tonight, it will help,” she whispered, her mouth close to your ear as she guided the spoon of honey, comb and all, towards your mouth. “Open.”

You had to chalk it up to the storm, the nightmare or whatever you could categorize your encounter with the ghostly woman as, but you recused yourself into Alys’ touch, eyes trained taut upon her as you opened your mouth. She spooned the honey onto your tongue, pulling the utensil away with a sticky trail of saliva and honey– to which she proceeded to lick off. 

Your head was swirling– you had admired Alys and thought her beautiful from the moment you saw her and you always liked women. You thought them soft and warm and could fill a certain void within you left by the death of your mother– but you had never… thought of a woman in a romantic light, surely? Your heart skipped a beat as you were so close to her, mouth parted. You could smell her light perfume, a lovely scent of vanilla and floral notes. 

The same feeling of elation that you felt when Aemond caressed you, kissed you, whispered sweet nothings to you was prominent in the pit of your stomach. You could count the speckles of light hazel in her emerald eyes from your close proximity. It was unsure who closed the gap first– but your lips melded to Alys’, tasting the sweet honey on her mouth, swiping your tongue across them to gather the syrupy nectar. Her hand caressed the back of your neck so tenderly as you pressed closer together, mouths parting to envelop each other’s tongues until the tastes of both of you were one in the same– saccharine, cloying, sticky sugar.

You had forgotten who you were or where you were, only enjoying the moment with Alys, when you heard the rumble of thunder off in the distance, it broke you from your union. Panic washed over you, your face going beet red. 

What had you done? 

[theaceofdragons]

Burn Down the Sky, Rewrite the Stars - Prologue | Zutara, prisoner AU, rated M

The Northern Water Tribe capital is so much bigger than the village where Katara spent the first eight years of her life, and the rest of the world is so much more out of reach. A Northern Water Tribe girl doesn't roam the tundra with her brother, doesn't spearfish along the shoreline with the old men. She certainly doesn't waterbend, except to heal. And much as Katara loves her family and her friends, that's not enough. There's a larger world out there, and she's determined to see it.

But she could never have dreamed that her first glimpse would come in the form of a Fire Nation prince brought north in chains.

on AO3 or below

Sometimes. it takes a cosmic coincidence to change the fate of nations.

The asteroid was set in motion eons ago, and hurtled through space for eons more before, in an event so unlikely it might be called a miracle, it knocked Sozin's comet off its path.

Sometimes, it takes a lone genius to change the course of history.

Anaka of the Southern Water Tribe never had much use for her bending until the vision started. She didn't know what game the spirits were playing with her, and she didn't care for it, but Anaka was a unique sort of woman. She didn't try to rid herself of the visions with offerings, or with stupor of intoxicating urchinsnail venom. Anaka hated the visions, so she was determined to understand them. And, after years of study, she did. More than that, she found a way to share her ability, though few had the natural aptitude to see, even with aid.

Sometimes. it takes as little as a paperwork error to change the world.

Commander Yon Rha of the Southern Raiders was not supposed to be allowed three months leave to tend to his ailing mother, but his superior stamped his seal on the wrong document. Thus, it was not Yon Rha who was in command of the Southern Raiders when the expedition to find the last waterbender reached the South Pole. The officer in command was older, and tired of war, and just wanted to go back to his warm cabin and his bottle of plum brandy and the lieutenant he'd spent the journey south talking into his bed. When he stopped to ask questions, and when he was told the last waterbender was an old man who had been buried three days prior, he decided that was good enough. He burned a few tents, and knocked down the ice wall around the pathetic little village and stabbed the single impulsive warrior who tried to stop him through the gut. Then he went back to his brandy and back to the Fire Nation, not particularly caring what happened next.

The world's path around the sun was set eons ago, longer even than that of Sozin's Comet. Savants like Anaka are born more rarely than even Avatars, and much less predictably. And random paperwork errors, though as much a fact of the universe as the laws of motion that prevented the comet's return, cannot be relied upon in the same way gravity can. Random events are a constant flow, changing the future with every beat of a butterfly's wings.

Then there are people, not only in their randomness and their caprice, but in their choices.

Sozin had no obligation to take advantage of the comet's first appearance for his atrocities, or to command his royal astronomers to calculate the date of its return. Anaka could have turned to that venom, or to icewine, when the visions nearly drove her mad, or simply walked out onto the tundra. Yon Rha's replacement could have acted more ruthlessly—or disobeyed his brutal orders, as every person in an imperial military can, if they are willing to pay the price. But they did what they chose.

And choice, as much as anything else, can change the future.

[cosmiccare]

WELCOME TO COSMICCARE

If this is annoying, do not fret- this will be the only time I will post in the main tags.

This is an ask blog derivative of @sparklecarehospital and @askcometcare. Aside from lifting the green cat and purple dog, the general gist of their partners, and the hospital in which they met, everything else is warped beyond recognition and largely made from scratch, so please don't expect canon complicity.

The ask box is currently OPEN.

Below the cut is most of the about page, featuring descriptions for the characters.

Content Warning

Per the source, there may be mentions of canon typical medical malpractice and mental health struggles up to suicidal ideation and self harm. This webcomic also focuses entirely on dysfunctional family dynamics and familial discourse.

The Family

They are collectively called the Cosmic family, for no particular reason except that the majority of the members enjoy the night sky. The below character listings are information as currently known, and some things may not be disclosed immediately.

The Parents…

Aluminum (Ale) Mint

48 yr old, transmale (he/him) bisexual Professional physicist and direct father to Aurora Din Airy, Winter Green Mint, Reese Ent Mint, and Ace Oort Cloud Mint.

Imogen Airy

45 yr old, bigender (she/he/neos(pup/swag/paw/love)) pansexual Professional streamer and small time personal artist as well as direct mother to Enon Haus Zero (estranged), Aurora Din Ary, Lumin Airy, and Ace Oort Cloud Mint.

Rhys Per

49 yr old, intersex nonbinary (they/it>he) gay Professional grocery store cashier and restocker and direct parent to Ed Salut Zero, Lumin Airy, Reese Ent Mint, and Ace Oort Cloud Mint.

Kevin Zero

50 yr old, genderfluid (any pronouns) aromantic Professionally unemployed and direct parent to Ed Salut Zero, Enon Haus Zero (estranged), Winter Green Mint, and Ace Oort Cloud Mint.

The Kids…

Ed Salut Zero

22 yr old, trans man (he/they) undisclosed sexuality Child of Kevin Zero and Rhys Per. Obligatory takes care of his family.

Aurora Din Airy

18 yr old, transfem nonbinary (she/they/star) straight Child of Ale Mint and Imogen Airy. A talented engineer currently in college; when not working on her career, she’s teeters on the edge of mad science.

Lumin Airy

17 yr old, nonbinary (she/pup) lesbian Child of Rhys Per and Imogen Airy. Aspiring (and failing) artist and writer. Considers herself a princess.

Winter Green Mint

15 yr old, male (he/him) undisclosed sexuality Child of Ale Mint and Kevin Zero. Mediocre artist and writer. Does his best to help his family, despite apparently holding known resentment towards many members within it.

Reese Ent Mint

12 yr old, female (she/squeak/kit) undisclosed sexuality Child of Ale Mint and Rhys Per. Likes ‘cool things’, like dinerries, sports, and bullying others.

Ace Oort Cloud Mint

10 yr old, genderfluid (they/it/(bit/byte)) aromantic Child of Ale Mint, Rhys Per, Imogen Airy, and Kevin Zero, all together. A chemistry savant and eternal ray of sunshine.

[morningstar-warriors]

Playbooks and Games

Good morning Warriors, I suppose its time I started telling ya'll what I've been working on!

Re-Working Playbooks:

Every single playbook within UWAG is getting a bit of a re-fresh. I'm beginning each Playbook with an updated descriptor that puts the reader in a cat's shoes... paws? Basically to try an immerse that person immediately into a more story driven fantasy feeling.

Excerpt from the Hearts of Fire Playbook:

Your strong paws thud against the earth, heart beating with the ferocity of a lion. The cries of battle echo across crimson soaked fields. Your claws find fur and flesh, the scent of fear stings the air but it is not your own. You screech in the face of a snarling enemy, whiskers splaying out in a horrifying show of power and size. This is war, but you feel alive! By StarClan, by all The Pantheon in the sky, you fight as if it is your last fight.  “For the Clan, for my family, for survival!”

Following this my goal was to add three new knacks for each book, and edit/fix up old knacks. In some cases, certain playbooks have gotten a sincere re-vamp. Ritualists have had multiple knacks replaced, and re-written to better suit my original vision for these cats.

One of the new Ritual Knacks:

Luck Ritual (2 Spirit Chips.)  This Ritual can be casted once a day.  A Luck ritual must be cast at Dawn. Your cat will weave together catmint and marigolds, making a crown to place on each Clowder Member’s head. This Knack allows each member of your Clowder to re-roll any check of their choosing with advantage once.

This goes for many Playbooks as, some of the wording and over all feel of these characters have been changed to better suit the day dreams I had while originally envisioning them. Not to mention there were of course, mechanical tweaks being made!

I think I want to stress the idea that Players aren't acting as the average cat, you are playing a "Chosen One" there is something unique and special to you. Like an eclectic cast of anime protagonists. Or side protags because the main character is always some lame guy. Most of it comes from my childhood, watching things like SSS Warriors and seeing cats use the wind to dance around their foes, loud screeching cries, and intense line delivery.

Every Playbook will also be suggested a pouch to start with, there are new kinds of pouches being made, and I intend to maybe add some mechanics when it comes to foraging or hunting. So this is ALSO why this update is taking a hot second... While I cannot promise that will be fully actualized, its very much on my mind.

Another additional thing being added to Playbooks are Player Questions! Here is a sample from the Guardian Playbook:

Ask a Player to your right one of the following: - Does the beast within me allure you, or frighten you? - What about me makes you laugh? - What about me feels ancient? What about me feels young? - How do you help me avoid responsibility?

The New Playbooks:

Kittypets and Rogues. I have already released a teaser in my discord server for the latest Kittypet book: The Savant. So if you know, you know. I aim on releasing two of each book for now, while wanting to do three, I found I was just sorta pushing myself a bit too much given my outside-warrior-cats-work-load. So two Playbooks each for now.

Teaser of Playbook Titles:

- The Savant - Mittens - City Slicker - Survivalist

Things Being Cooked:

Editing Apprentice Playbooks, nothing major, just adjusting it to match up with the latest edits as well as fix any confusing wording or typos. Everyone say thank you to Secretary Em.

Settings. I have a team of two helping me write settings, which will contain Animals with stats, and herbs for medicinal reasons... Or poison reasons... This will tie in with foraging, hence its minor delay, or potential lack of development when the new pouches come out.

Seasons. May be paired with Settings. Holidays and Traditions may merge into this section.

Religion and Lore!

NPCs.

Maps for clan camps, and landmarks. Seasonal Change versions as well.

Typos, errors, minor fixes... The usual suspects.

An art contest to replace some old art in the books.

[pianokantzart]

MY FAVORITE SCENE! HERE WE GO.

Also, shoutout to @supermary64​. All the screenshots below are from the clips they’ve posted.

At the beginning of the scene Luigi is being dragged along by his bound wrists. He is captured by strange masked creatures that clearly think very little of him, kicking him in the calves to keep him moving toward a hot air balloon, which takes off into the sky for an unknown destination.

Looking down at the landscape below, Luigi spots an old stone castle, and his expression shifts as he reflects on a better time...

… A time where he was a little kid, building a wood-block castle on the playground, and look at that castle. Luigi is a savant! At that age (which I guess is somewhere between three and five???) he probably spent a good deal of time slowly constructing the thing, carefully and quietly putting effort into every detail. Look at his face! he is completely focused and in the zone. Just one final touch needed… a flag on top…

Then along comes this little shit.

 He is aggressive right off the bat, stealing Luigi’s flag and blowing raspberries, testing his limits of how much he can intimidate this smaller, far more timid kid.

In the reflection of the sunglasses you can see Luigi backing down, fearful, hand held out in self defense. He is completely noncombative, and bracing himself for the worst.

Luigi shields his face as his castle is kicked down. He falls over backwards as the instigator laughs at him, twirling the stolen flag in his hand.

On cue, in comes Mario, jumping on top of his brother’s bully, leaping over him to place himself at Luigi’s side.

Mario puts himself between him and the attacker, breathing heavily, gearing up for a fight as he hands the retrieved flag over to his little brother, not taking his eyes off the threat, not an ounce of fear in his expression despite the fact that the he is up against what looks to be an older, bigger child.

Luckily, the bully was hoping for an easy target. Spitting out a block he runs off without looking back.

Mario turns and smiles at his brother, looking very proud of himself. Luigi, after a moment of shy consideration, smiles back. Despite having had his meticulously-constructed castle destroyed, the loss of his creation doesn’t compare to the sense of relief and safety he feels knowing his brother is there, and has his back.

Then the flashback ends, and Luigi is alone.

I think this memory is simply a culmination of how much Luigi is straight up missing his brother. Ever since they were kids he has followed Mario everywhere, even into danger and uncertainty… fearful as always, yet maintaining a sureness that he would be alright so long as his big brother took the lead.

“Nothing can hurt us as long as we’re together”… but they aren’t together anymore. For the first time for as long as he can remember, Luigi is completely and utterly alone.

Luigi looks at his bound wrists and considers the situation. He doesn’t know what’s happening or where he’s going, he only knows this world he landed in is aggressive, unforgiving, and dead set against him. Never before has the future looked so bleak.

Luigi settles back into place, looking dead ahead with a look– sad and thoughtful, like he is recalling his final moments with Mario, and wondering what he would’ve said if he had known there was a chance they were never going to see each other again.

[vulpinesaint]

by the way. gravity by maura o'connor.

Gravity by Maura O’Connor

Today I am fragile pale twitching insane and full of purpose.

I’m thinking of my lover: my soft hips pressing his coarse belly my tongue on a salmon nipple, his hand buried in my thick orange hair the telephone ringing.

I’m thinking we tend our illnesses  as if they are our children: fevered screaming demanding attention and twenty dollar bills, hours we could have spent making love with the television on.

Faith is a series of calculations made by an idiot savant. I’m in love. I’m alone in this city of painted boxes stacked like alphabet blocks spelling nothing.

There are things I know: trees don’t sing birds don’t sprout leaves the sky never turns to wine roses bloom because that’s what roses do, whether we write poems for them or not.

I concentrate on small things:  ivy threaded through chain link, giveaway kittens huddled in a soggy cardboard box, a fat man blowing harmonica through a beard of rusty wires brown birds chattering furiously on power lines.

I try not to think about lung cancer, AIDS, the chemicals in the rain; things I can’t imagine any more than a color I’ve never seen

My heart is graffiti on the side of a subway train, a shadow on the wall made by a child. Nothing has been fair since my first skinned knee I believe death must be.

I cling to love as if it were an answer. I go on buying eggs and bread,  boots and corsets, knowing I’ll burn out before the sun.

I’m thinking of the days I tried to stay awake while the billboards and T.V. ads for condoms, microwave brownies, and dietetic jello lulled me to sleep.

A brown-eyed girl once told me a secret that should have blown this city into a mass of unconnected atoms Our sewage is piped to the sea.  Beggars in the street are hated for having the nerve to die in public. 

Charity requires paperwork, Relief requires medication

as if we were the afterthoughts of institutions greater than our rage.

Gravity chains us to the asphalt with such grace we think it is kind.

We all go on buying lottery tickets Diet Coke and toothpaste as if the sky over our heads were the roof of a gilded cage.

We provide evidence that we were here: initials cut into cracked vinyl bus seats, into trees growing from squares in concrete, a name left on a stone, an office building, a flower, a disease, a museum a child.

Tonight the stars glitter like rhinestones on a black suede glove.

In the coffin my room has become,  I talk to God about the infrequency of the rain about people who can’t see the current of gentleness running under the pale crust of my skin.

I tell him under the jackhammer crack, the diesel truck rumble, even the clicking sound traffic lights make switching from yellow to red, there is a silence swallowing every song, conversation, every whisper made beside graves or in the twisted white sheets of love.

I tell him I can’t fill it with dark wine, blue pills, a pink candle lit at the altar the lover touching my hair.

God doesn’t answer. God doesn’t know our names.

He’s only the architect designing the places we occupy like high rise offices or ant hills

I know this  the way I know sunrise and sunset are caused by the endless turning of the Earth.

[thrxwn]

The Thrawn Ascendancy Trilogy just really drives home that Thrawn is a social and political himbo but a military and art savant.

He cares a lot about his people and is willing to sacrifice himself for them, whether that sacrifice be his life or social-political status. He considered the Starflash weapon and accepted Exile for the good of the whole.

He also cares about "alien" lives unlike most of the ascendancy. He didn't give up on the Magys when most would.

He also is exceedingly patient and is willing to teach others to get the best out of them. Teaching Thrass strategy and games, Admiral Ar'alani how he reads tactics from art.

He doesn't condescend the young but is protective over them. Where most would just keep Sky Walkers to their navigation tasks, Thrawn was willing to teach Che'ri how to pilot because she expressed interest in it.

He sometimes can be single minded in his goals and is willing to skirt the rules to achieve them. From the multiple times he circumvented pre-emptive strike protocols to alert the ascendancy about the eminent threat to their existence.

It appears that he aligned himself with the Galactic Empire because he thought the Empire could best help his people in the long run. It didn't appear that he chose them due to moral or ethical reasons.

I know people change over time, and that the novels are from a Chiss and Thrawn POV but I don't feel Thrawn would join a side for malicious reasons.

[monsterritory]

So I've updated Savants,

But I'm trying something new for this one, so I'm not sure I can post it to tumblr. I've made the pages in that webtoon/mobile scroll style instead of the usual pages

I'm on a fence about that style vs traditional pages, so feedback would be welcome. No pressure though ^u^

For now you can read it on Tapas or Webtoons, I'll decide if I want to post the pages as is in here or edit them for tumblr convenience. I don't wanna make my comic update the colour of the sky

Savants Tumblr Masterpost