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batmanisagatewaydrug · 2 months ago

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more of jessie lying wetly

chapter one

chapter two

cool art by @hamandeggbun

and brand new shiny chapter three. on god I am not allowed to post another one until I finish writing chapter ten.

The interior decor of One-Eyed Polly’s had changed precious little since the last time Jessie saw it, although the floors were a little more scratched up and the felt on the pool table had acquired some upsetting new stains. The only thing that had changed was the enormous NO SMOKING sign on the back wall, right where everyone could see it.

The second she stepped inside of the bar the universe conspired to give her the entrance of a stranger blowing into town in an old Western, with the jukebox pausing between songs and conversation hitting a lull just as she stepped on a creaky floorboard, drawing all eyes to herself. She flashed an ice cold Frostbite smile, tossed her hair, and wished desperately that she’d worn her costume. It would make her look like a total douchebag, sure, but it would also remind everyone she was dangerous.

Jessie strode back to the bar like it was a catwalk anyway, but the whispers and mutters that followed her were not promising.

“Still owes me twenty dollars.”

“Did I tell you she blocked me?”

“I thought she got arrested.”

“What did Sub-Zero say?”

Okay. Okay. Not awesome, but it was fine. They could say anything they wanted about her, but how many of these washouts and wannabes would actually try anything? None of them. They didn’t know that she was unarmed and floundering without her brother. She hadn’t worn her costume because she didn’t need to; her reputation was still strong enough to protect her. Not to mention she wanted all of these dweebs to see her wearing jeans that cost more than their mortgage payments and choke on the jealousy.

Maudie was behind the bar, grayer and butcher than ever. Her face was lined now, enough that it gave Jessie pause. Was her godmother getting old now? When did that happen?

Not that Maud was letting it soften her up at all. She raised a bushy brow at Jessie by way of greeting and launched right into putting her through the wringer. “Well, well. Look at that. A real-deal supervillain graces us with her presence. Thank you for deigning to descend from the gravy train, your highness.”

“Aww, Maudie, come on. Don’t be like that, it’s my birthday.”

“As if I don’t know. Did you get your card?”

“Did you send one?”

Maud rolled her eyes, hard. “Of course I sent one. What kind of schmuck do you take me for?”

Of course she wouldn’t know; Jessie hadn’t checked her mailbox in at least a week.

She realized, with despair, that there were tears crowding up around the edges of her eyes, little pinpricks begging to be let loose. When had she gotten so sappy? She wasn’t even most excited about the crisp fifty dollar bill that Maudie always tucked inside of her cards, although that was a relief. It was mostly that someone had even remembered she existed and wanted to do something nice for her that was really turning her into goo.

“Well, I appreciate it,” she said, choking down her onslaught of emotions. Maudie would hate her making a scene like that; she never knew what to do when people cried. “But, hey, I’m not here to talk about me. How are you doing? Are you feeling alright?”

“The hell do you mean, do I feel alright?”

“Well, you always said that you’d only make people stop smoking in here over your dead body. And now nobody’s smoking, so I figure you must have gotten real close to having a dead body.”

Maudie snorted. “We had a scare last year. Doctor thought he had something, turned out not to be serious. But you know how the dames are. Next thing I know, nobody’s allowed to smoke in here and I’m getting yelled at if I don’t eat vegetables and go for a fuckin’ walking every morning.”

She shook her head, fondly exasperated. The dames were the two iron-tongued femmes Maudie had been in a relationship with for decades, largely considered to be the real masterminds behind One-Eyed Polly’s. According to Maudie, they only kept her around to look pretty and serve the drinks.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Jessie demanded. “We could have helped with the bills, or I could have brought over soup. Something.”

“I didn’t want to bother you, kid. Your brother made it pretty clear that you were busy.” And then, before Jessie could apologize or otherwise risk making things sentimental, Maudie cleared her throat sharply. “You want a drink, or what? First round’s free for the birthday girl.”

“Yeah? Let’s do a straight whiskey and a burger,” Jessie said, knowing damn well that she’d be drinking nothing but dirt cheap beer for the rest of the night. “Do the fries still come with that, or is it extra?”

“It’ll be a cold day in hell when I charge people extra for a side of fries. That shit comes with the burger,” Maud said gravely.

There were a lot of things that could stand to be improved about One-Eyed Polly’s, but the food was not one of them. So what if the fry cook telepathically talked with rats? He could work a grill. The basket that arrived in front of Jessie contained a beautifully constructed medium rare burger packing the exact correct amount of grease, surrounded by steak fries that had been seasoned to absolute perfection. Pardon Jessie while she drooled a little bit.

“Hey, Maudie,” she said, half a burger later. “You still have Joney’s van?”

Her godmother raised an eyebrow a fraction of an inch, which for Maud was an expression of profound skepticism. “I’d love to know how the hell you think I could’ve lost it.”

“No no, that’s not what I meant. I just wanted to see if I could grab it from you.”

“Can’t get your car back from Voltzz, huh?”

“Hmm?” Jessie asked, playing dumb.

“Do not try the bimbo act on me, Jessica Jolene. You know damn well what I’m talking about.”

“God. How did you even hear about that?”

“Are you kidding? I hear about everything in here. We had a bunch of schlubs in here doing shots at noon because they thought Ricochet dragged you off for good.”

“Okay, tacky.” Jessie licked her lips, her mouth suddenly feeling extremely dry despite an abundance of gloss. “Maudie, can I ask you a question? It seems like I’m maybe, um, not very popular around here.”

Maud stared her down with eyes like chisels. “That’s not a question.”

“You know what I mean!”

“I don’t know what to tell you, kiddo. They hate your guts.”

“Maudie!”

Jessie’s complaining was cut short by a sweaty, nervous-looking man appearing from the kitchen and hurrying to Maudie’s side. He shot Jessie a look that could really only be described as distrustful, then leaned in close to deliver his message to Maud. She shrugged him away almost before he finished speaking, peeved by his damp proximity.

“So get her shift covered. Why do you need my permission for that? Call Billy. Or, hell, see if Tash can make it in. She’s always dying for extra shifts. Tell Jordan I’ll come sort her out in a minute and then get your ass back out here to cover the bar. The dishes can wait.”

Maudie sighed and turned back to Jessie as her dishwasher departed, shaking her head. She suddenly looked about a hundred years old. “Kid, I miss the days when the worst I had to deal with was bartenders coming in drunk.”

“What happened?”

“One of my girls, Jordan. She’s got that fucking, what do they call it? Void pox? She kept going see-through when she came in but she swore she’d be fine. Except she’s not fine, she started getting these little cartoon demons popping out of her head. Pretty harmless, only about this big, but if I never have to kill another one with a broom it’ll be too soon. Anyway, I had her sitting down in the back, but now she’s starting to make things levitate and I can’t have that. I need to find her a ride home.”

“Could I come see her?” Jessie asked with, in hindsight, way too much enthusiasm.

Her godmother hit her with a look that was genuinely withering. “You can keep your ass right here and be nice to Nikesh while he tends the bar. And you can leave Jordan alone. It’s a 24-hour bug, she’ll be back to normal tomorrow.”

“I know that!”

“So drop it, then! For once in your life, don’t get so pushy about this superhero shit.”

Maud ducked back into the kitchen on that deeply unencouraging note, sending poor Nikesh back out to hold down the bar in her stead. He studiously avoided Jessie’s gaze when she asked him how his night was going, spitting out single syllable answers until she gave up and asked for a hard cider, which he provided without once actually turning his face in her direction. Jessie dropped a five in the tip jar anyway, because she believed very firmly that you were supposed to tip generously unless the waiter had purposefully set you on fire and maybe even then. Running through the last of your money in the entire world was no excuse to be a lousy customer.

The problem being, of course, that she had hoped this would be a case of spending money to make money. She’d shell out a little for a night at One-Eyed Polly’s, reestablish herself as a villain of the people, and announce that she was hiring to thunderous applause. Henchpeople out the door, heaps of cash secured, the money that she’d pissed away on bottom shelf booze now a worthwhile investment.

Unfortunately, all of that had depended on there being someone, anyone, left in town who didn’t hate her guts.

“Hey, Nikesh? Do you like working here?”

“It’s a living,” he said, still looking down.

“If I offered to pay you, like, five times what you’re making right now, would you work for me?”

“Fuck no.”

“Ten times?”

He actually looked at her for a fleeting second, his gaze touching off hers for just a moment. Jessie was vomitously aware that there was something that looked a lot like pity in his face. “Look, lady. It’s not about the money. It’s about not wanting to get my ass kicked.”

“Jesus Christ. Am I really that bad for business?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Is that why you won’t even look at me?”

“Yeah. You understand. Can’t look like we’re getting friendly.”

“Respect. You gotta look out for number one, Nikesh. I can throw a drink on you, if you want.”

“Yeah? That might be good, actually. We could make people think I said something really nasty to you. That could actually be great for my rep.”

Jessie groaned, resting her face in her hands. This was going to be an absolute non-starter. Polly’s was the biggest rat-hole in town; everyone knew that this was a place where people would turn a blind eye to almost anything. Everyone put aside their beef here, because the place would never function if they didn’t and no one wanted to be the asshole who ruined the only functioning villain bar in town. If a bartender was too scared to even look at her directly, Jessie’s reputation must be worse than dirt.

Why? Because of last night’s embarrassing little tantrum? Couldn’t be it. Nobody complained about the time Voltzz snorted bath salts and went on a rampage, or when Incinerator got drunk and started taking potshots at cop cars. Hell, if anything they’d both gotten more popular after that. Jonas might sneer at the lack of precision and control, but Jessie had tried to tell him a thousand times that people liked to see a supervillain go a little off the rails. It was aspirational, right? It let people imagine what they might do, if they had the power to really cut loose.

Why was she different? Sure, people hated to see a woman having fun, but that couldn’t possibly explain all of it. Maudie could probably explain it, whenever she finished mopping up the poor sap with the void pox. Maudie heard about everything.

In the meantime, she might as well try to make the most of her evening. If she wasn’t going to be making new friends, she could at least have a little fun. Who cared about her bank account? If she was screwed, she might as well go out with a splash.

“Nikesh? Open me up a tab. It’s my birthday and I want shots.”

***

Jessie Chilton was not a lightweight. Despite spending most of her early life watching her father get eaten alive by booze she had an exceedingly friendly relationship with alcohol, and could usually hold her drinks pretty well. Jonas had never touched the stuff, erring hard on the side of caution, but Jessie knew that she could stop any time she wanted.

Her miserable 26th birthday was not that time. That night she drank like the world was going to end, because it very possibly was. Her world, at least, and what else was she supposed to worry about? She knew damn well the scope of what she could be held responsible for, and presently it was mostly downing as much tequila as she could.

Which meant she ended up in the bathroom, eventually, because all of that liquid had to go somewhere, and in the time-honored tradition of wasted girls everywhere she got weird about it. While Jessie sat in the cramped and questionably-lit stall she started thinking about how she’d very nearly been born in this very room and what a miserably inauspicious start that was, and how perhaps she should have known that her life was always doomed to go down the toilet despite a decade or so of delusionally believing that she might be meant for something better. She wished that she had some friends to cry to, and briefly regretted the loss of Whirligig. Getting sloppy drunk and crying in club bathrooms together had been about the only thing that friendship was good for, but sometimes that was all she needed it to be.

In the absence of anywhere else to turn Jessie called the person who had almost always been there for her, until he spectacularly wasn’t.

Hey, Joney. It’s your favorite sister. And I know what you’re thinking: ‘Jessie, you’re my only sister, why are you doing exposition like a lunatic?’ Well, it’s because you haven’t been acting like I’m your favorite sister lately, or like you even know me, so I figured maybe you needed the reminder.

Did you even notice it’s my birthday? You’ve never forgotten it in my entire life. But you know who remembered? Uncle Ray. And Maud. And that’s fucking it. And Ricochet was soooOOOOOOoooo mean to me this morning. Like, you wouldn’t believe. She’s getting way too cocky, if you ask me. You should come back and kick her ass into orbit. Remind her who’s boss around here.

You should come back in general, actually. I miss you. But I’m also mad at you. It’s, like, a real dick move to take off and not even leave me with any money. I mean, I had money. Past-tense. But it’s gone now. I could have, like, I could have definitely spent it better. Smarter? I got these really stupid expensive boots with real crystals on them and then when I tried to return them they said I couldn’t because there was a scuff on the toe, which is like… whatever. I’m wearing them right now even though they’re way too fancy for Polly’s. Might as well get my money’s worth.

But I also just don’t have anything. Like, where’s the bank account? Where is the bank account, Jonas? I earned half that money, so why can’t I… I mean, you literally never told me how to get into it. To my money. Which I guess in hindsight was, like, I should have had a problem with that way sooner, but you made it sound extremely reasonable! And now I’m this close to Uncle Ray throwing me out on my ass, because I couldn’t pay the May rent and I can’t pay the June rent, either, at the rate things are going. I opened a tab at Polly’s and I don’t have enough to pay it, so now Maudie’s going to be mad at me, I think. I don’t know, I’m not even actually sure how a tab works. Isn't that stupid? I'm, like, so mad at myself lately got how much stuff I don't know.

Everybody’s mad at me.

And you won’t even call me back, and I can’t even afford toilet paper, so that’s, like, a lot. And I’m not handling it well. And I’m drank as a skank at Polly’s, in case you couldn’t tell, so go ahead and get your panties twisted up about that. I’m fucking spiraling, buddy. I’m in my fucking up era out here.

So. You should come home.

Or at least tell me where you are or what you’re doing or why you left, okay? Because I hate no knowing that. We’re supposed to tell each other things. And I’m scared about what’s going to happen if you’re gone much longer because, like, everything is going wrong. And I think you might have really left me screwed here, okay? Which is crazy, because it was supposed to be you and me against the world, but I’m not fucking seeing it right now.

By this point Jessie was crying and snotting pretty hard, absorbed enough in her own agonies that she didn’t realize she wasn’t alone in the bathroom until someone rapped lightly on the door of her stall and almost scared her shitless.

“Hey. You okay in there?”

It was not the voice of someone particularly warm and fuzzy or confident about checking in on a stranger, which actually made it a little sweeter that they’d bothered.

“I’m fine,” Jessie lied, wetly. “I’m just, like, I’m on the phone.”

“Yeah, I can hear that.” Whoever they were, they were sorely tempted to leave it at that and go back to minding their own business. Jessie could tell. Outside the stall, a pair of tennis shoes that had been worn damn near to dust rocked back and forth, weighing the options. “I just wanted to say that they’re not worth it. Whoever’s making you feel this bad, you shouldn't waste your time on them.”

“Okay,” Jessie said. And then, into the message she was still leaving for her brother: “I have to go, a nice girl in this bathroom says you’re not worth it. Please call me, love you, bye.”

“Great,” the stranger said dryly. “Crushed it.” Their beaten-in shoes scuffed away, back over to the sinks. Had Jessie missed an entire other person pissing next to her? God, that was embarrassing.

She wadded up some genuinely horrific single ply toilet paper and dabbed at her face, hoping she didn’t look too atrocious. All of her makeup was waterproof, which had to count for something. “Hey, thank you for that. I really needed someone to snap me out of it. I was being so pathetic.”

“Whatever,” said the voice by the sinks. “Don’t beat yourself up. I’ve been there, I get it.”

Jessie’s heart was getting squeezed around like one of those awful tubes full of goo and glitter and little plastic animals, the kind that everyone used to make jerk off motions. Who was this? Would they still be so nice to her if they knew who she was? What were the odds she could salvage a single actual friend out of this wretched garbage fire of a day? It didn’t even have to be a lifelong bestie, just someone she could have a few drinks with.

“My name is Jessie,” she said hesitantly.

She heard her new friend sigh. “I’m Tash.”

“Do you come here often? I’m not asking that in the pervert way, I’m just curious if you’re, like, a regular.”

“I work here,” Tash said, with as much contempt as anyone had ever had for their workplace.

“Oh. Do you like it?”

“Sucks shit. But, you know. You do what you’ve got to do.” She cleared her throat awkwardly. “Are you okay in there? I’m gonna get my ass reamed if I let somebody drown in the toilet.”

“No, I’m okay. I’m just, you know.” Which was a fucking nothing explanation, but Jessie’s voice was still damp and wavering enough that it presumably got the point across. “I need a moment to get it together.”

“I hear that,” Tash said. “I usually use the walk-in when I need a second.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s not very big, but it’s quiet. And the cold kind of helps pull me together, I guess. Stay focused.” She cleared her throat again. “Sorry to dump that on you.”

“No, that’s okay. It makes sense,” said Jessie, noted cold enjoyer. “Do you keep anything fun in there? Maud’s never let me see it.”

“You know Maud?”

“Yeah, since I was a kid. Isn’t she the best?”

“She’s a real son of a bitch. But she's the only boss I’ve ever believed when she says she gives a shit about me, though.”

“Sounds like Maudie,” Jessie agreed fondly. “Anyway, what’s in the walk-in?”

“Fucking nothing exciting. Burger patties, mostly. I don’t know. Like I said, not a lot of room.”

“Plenty of room for you.”

“Yeah, every time I have a total breakdown at work.”

“Does that happen a lot? No judgment, obviously. Pot .”

“I don’t know.” Tash sighed. “More often than you’d hope. Which is never, obviously. We don’t have to talk about this.”

“What’s your favorite color?”

“What?”

“Your favorite color,” Jessie insisted. “I love asking people that. Nobody ever cares after you turn, like, twelve, right? But I care. And it’s a lot more chill than talking about, you know. Our favorite places to completely freak out in a shithole bar.”

“Okay. Sure,” Tash said. Everything about the strain in her voice suggested she was not naturally inclined towards whimsy, but at least she was making the effort to play along. “Will you assume I have clinical depression if I say gray?”

“Yes.”

“Well, joke’s on me, because I love gray and I do have clinical depression. But purple is also good. I like purple.”

“What shade? Eggplant? Periwinkle?”

“Just a nice, medium purple, I guess. Like, the platonic ideal of purple.”

Jessie had no idea what a platonic ideal was or why anyone would ever need to specify that they weren't trying to have sex with a color, but she was sitting on her stupid little toilet nodding like an idiot anyway because it felt so good to be making a connection with someone. “I dig that. Purple is good.”

“What about you?”

“Oh, cerulean for sure. With sparkles, ideally.”

“That’s blue, right?”

“Yeah. My jacket is actually, like, that exact color, I can show you.” Jessie sniffled tremendously, getting shakily to her feet and pleased to discover that she was feeling much more sober than when she’d wandered into the bathroom some time ago. And now look at her! Practically having a whole meet cute. What a turn around on the evening. “Okay, I’m coming out now. Don’t gag if my makeup’s a mess, I’m going to fix it.”

She tossed her hair and stepped out of the stall, at which point several things happened to her in rapid succession.

Tash was standing underneath one of the humming, flickering lights that barely managed to illuminate the dark cave of the ladies’ room. She struck a slim figure, drowning in a huge hoodie with two skinny black-clad legs sticking out like a cartoon character. She was wiping down the sinks but turned as Jessie emerged, the fuzzy light illuminating her from the back like a bargain bin halo.

The first thing Jessie noticed was that Tash was a lot shorter than she had been expecting.

The second was that Tash had beautiful eyes.

The third was that those beautiful eyes and indeed her entire face were curdling up in horror as recognition set in.

“What the fuck,” she said. “Frostbite?”

The recognition and reaction alone weren’t surprising, given the colossal combined levels of notoriety and bad PR Jessie was currently enjoying. The part that nearly knocked her on her ass was that recognized Tash back.

“Oh my god!” she exclaimed, overjoyed and utterly failing to read the room. “Night Noir? Holy shit, girlie, I thought you were dead!”

#jessie lies wetly

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gojoacedia · 2 months ago

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tattoo artist! Touya Todoroki x Reader

NSFW ahead! This is my first full smut piece so I thought I would post it for kinktober, lmk how I did!

Touya Todoroki was the most sought-after tattoo artist in your city. His fine line work, detail, and color were unmatched. As an artist yourself, you weren’t just going to pick anyone to do your first tattoo. They had to be good enough to replicate your drawing, which wasn’t going to be easy for anyone. So you decided to email him to set up an appointment.

It took months to actually see him, but the day was finally here. You were going to get your first tattoo. It was a beautiful and intricate spine piece that Touya said he was personally impressed by. You were incredibly nervous but also excited to finally meet him. Then you were called back into his room.

“You (y/n)?” he asked you while finishing setting up for the session. You had seen pictures of this man but none of them did him justice. He had beautiful white hair, perfectly contrasted by the black inkwork all over his body. He had three nose piercings and many cartilage piercings, all of which made you weak in the knees. You realized you were staring.

“Yes,” you replied shortly, your nervousness showing more than ever. He only smirked at you, reading your body language like a book.

“This your first tattoo?” He asked, getting the stencil ready for placement. You only nodded, too shy to speak anymore. “Don’t worry, I’ll be real gentle to you,” he said in a suggestive voice, making blood rush to your cheeks.

“Thank you,” you could only say before he turned you around and started placing the stencil. The cool ink on your back gave you goosebumps, but you were more shaken by how delicate his fingers were pressing the stencil into your back. You had to try extremely hard to prevent yourself from shivering.

“Does that look centered? I usually don’t get it right the first time, but I think I did a pretty good job on this one,” he laughed a little at himself while watching you look in the mirror. You practically had hearts in your eyes at how good it looked on your back. “It looks amazing, perfectly centered!” you smiled up at him after looking at the stencil to find him already looking at you with an amused gaze. Did he think you were cute? You looked away before your brain could explore that thought any further. He motioned for you to lay down on the table so he could get to work. You unceremoniously flopped down on the bench and got in a comfy position. You knew this would take a while.

“Alright, this may pinch a little, let me know if it hurts too bad,” he told you before dipping his pen in the tattoo ink. You barely even felt the needle go into your skin, you were too preoccupied with how he was touching your back. “How does that feel?” He asked in the same suggestive voice he did before.

“I barely feel a thing. In fact, I think it’s relaxing,” you told him truthfully in a sleepy voice. It was his heart's turn to skip a beat. His first tattoo didn’t hurt particularly bad, but it was far from relaxing. He got used to it over the years, but he couldn’t help but wonder what pain you had to go through in your life to look this sleepy while needles were penetrating your flesh.

“Yeah? You got a high pain tolerance?” He asked, wanting to confirm his curiosity. “Mmhm, been through a lot worse than this,” you yawned while relaxing more on the bench. He thought you looked adorable. “That’s too bad, a pretty girl like you shouldn’t have to go through any pain,” he flirted before wiping some excess ink away. You giggled below him, glad your face was hidden in the table.

“Did your first tattoo hurt?” You asked him, not wanting to stop the conversation. “It hurt a little but wasn’t nearly as big as this one. I personally think piercings hurt more than tattoos,” he answered. “I agree, but I’ve only gotten piercings done by my friends, never at a parlor,” you laughed a little while telling your story, thinking he would be disappointed that you didn’t take body mods seriously. Some did get infected, but no more infected than they would’ve gotten at Claire’s. “I didn’t take you for the rebellious type, doll,” you could hear the smirk in his voice. He could probably hear your heartbeat through your spine at this point. “Then there’s a lot you don’t know about me, handsome,” you replied by calling him a pet name like he had called you, thinking you were funny for it. On the other hand, he felt his heart skip into his throat at the nickname. He was always a flirt, and shy girls like you were always his favorite to pick on. But you talked back. He thought he was falling in love.

You continued the conversation until about an hour and a half into the tattoo session, then he asked if you needed a break.

“I’m so glad you asked me, my legs went numb like 30 minutes ago but I felt bad messing up your rhythm,” you told him honestly while sitting up. You tried to stand up but it was all too fast, causing you to stumble due to the blood rush. Touya caught you, his hands on your elbows holding you up.

“Careful now pretty, don’t fall for me too fast, you might regret it later,” he teased from above you. You tried to hide your smile but it was futile. “Sorry, I stood up way too fast,” you explained even though he already knew what happened. He sat you back down before walking over to a mini fridge in the corner to get an energy drink. He asked if you wanted anything, and you looked over his shoulder to see what he had. You were surprised to see little boxes of apple juice.

“Can I have an apple juice?” You asked him while smiling, happy that he would have something like that in his fridge in the first place. He laughed while grabbing one and handing it to you.

“They’re for when kids come in to get their first piercings. I don’t know what magic is in them, but they take the pain away from every kid I’ve ever pierced,” he chuckled while explaining them to you. This man just kept getting hotter and hotter the more you talked to him.

“You’re a badass tattoo artist who’s also good with kids? I’m in love,” you joked, but it wasn’t really a joke. He laughed at that, letting you see his smile for the first time since you started the tattoo. Butterflies erupted in your stomach.

“You ready for the final stretch? It should take another hour and a half if you sit pretty for me like you’ve been doing,” he smirked while putting on a new pair of black gloves. You nodded and laid back down on the bench, getting in a comfortable position once again.

“So how’d you come up with this design?” He asked you, eager to start another conversation.

“It’s been something I’ve wanted for as long as I can remember, and because I’ve drawn for my whole life it was pretty easy to sketch up a draft,” you explained to him, happy you finally got to brag about how good your drawings were. “You drew this? It’s beautiful, if you ever want to become a tattoo artist I’d take you as my apprentice any day,” he complimented, trying his best to get you to like him. “I’ll definitely keep that in mind,” you laughed, although you both knew he wasn’t joking. “I’ll show you my art after this if you want to see it,” you offered, upset that you had seen his art all over his studio but he’s only seen one of your drawings. “Show me everything,” he replied, making you flustered at his innuendo.

“This is going to hurt more than the linework, I’m gonna start filling in the black,” he warned before starting shading. “I know you can take it though,” he said in that suggestive voice that made your knees weak. Thank god you were lying down.

You ended up falling asleep for the rest of the tattoo session, much to Touya's disappointment. You were woken up by the cool disinfectant being poured on your back.

“We all done?” You asked him while yawning.

“Yup, go ahead and take a look,” he replied. You almost shot up when he said that, excited to see how it turned out, but you caught yourself and got up slowly so you didn’t fall over again. You looked behind your shoulder to see the tattoo.

“It’s beautiful Touya! Thank you so much!” You exclaimed. You handed him your phone so he could take a picture. When he handed you your phone back you stared at the photo for what felt like forever, memorizing every little detail he was sure to add. You smiled up at him in appreciation, and he was once again already looking at your face in admiration. You didn’t know but he felt his chest tighten at the fact that you remembered his name. It sounded so good coming from your lips.

“I’m really happy you came to me for your first tattoo, this way you know how good I am and can come to me for every other tattoo you decide to get,” he subtlety flirted.

“I definitely will, don’t you worry,” you told him. “Alright, let's get you taped up,” he said before turning you around and putting healing cream on your back. You had become obsessed with the way his fingers felt on your skin, so much you didn’t want to leave. He put a bandage over your tattoo before turning you back around to look at your face again.

“I know this is unprofessional, but let me take you on a date. I get off work at 6 if you wanna stop by then. I know some amazing restaurants on this block,” he said nonchalantly while taking his gloves off one last time. You stared up at him in shock. You were hoping this would happen, but you had convinced yourself he didn’t like you and was just trying to make you more comfortable.

“I’ll be here at 6 then,” you smiled up at him before walking out of his studio to pay.

•••

Six was too close. You were so giddy about the date that you had forgotten to ask about how to take care of the tattoo, showering with the bandage on and hoping you weren’t supposed to take it off before the shower. You wore your favorite outfit and put on some simple makeup before heading out to see Touya.

You arrived at the studio around 5:45, watching as all the employees were cleaning up after a long day. You didn’t want to get yelled at for being here during closing, so you immediately made your way to Touya’s studio. Before you opened the door, you heard him talking to someone.

“Take a big deep breath in- and now out,” he was speaking to someone in a gentle voice, one you weren’t used to hearing from him. You quietly opened the door and slid in, and Touya knew it was you as soon as he heard the door. There was a little girl sitting on the table you were on earlier that day, getting her ears pierced. Her mom was in the corner smiling proudly at her, but also eyeing Touya down like you were. You couldn’t blame her, you were in the same position.

“You did so good! Now for the most important part-” he started before heading over to his mini fridge and taking out an apple juice. “Make sure you drink all of it so your body has all the proper nutrients to heal,” he explained, watching the little girl with comforting eyes that felt like home.

“Thank you,” the little girl said quietly before running off to her mom to show her. They both looked so excited, which made your heart soar. After they left the room, you approached Touya.

“How did you learn to be so good with kids?” You asked him, smirking. He let out a huff at your question.

“I’m the oldest of four, I’ve been takin’ care of my stupid siblings my whole life,” he explained while cleaning up. It made you wonder about his childhood. Why did he have to take care of his siblings? What did his parents do? You decided to drop the subject in case it brought up anything he didn’t want to share yet.

Once he was done cleaning his space, he walked over to you before snaking his hands around your waist and leaning into your ear.

“You look absolutely beautiful, you know that?” He whispered, leaving chills up your spine. You wrapped your arms around his neck before looking up at him to return the compliment.

“I could say the same for you,” you whispered up at him, looking at how soft his lips were. He suddenly pulled away before grabbing your hand to lead you out of the studio. “Let’s get going huh? I have the whole night planned out for us so I don’t want to waste a second,” he said at a normal volume. You nodded and followed along.

•••

Dinner was amazing. You talked the entire time about your work, families, and hobbies. You felt like you had known Touya for years after you left. It was shocking to you how easily conversation flowed, you usually had to carry the weight of conversation on your other dates. But Touya knew exactly what to say. At the restaurant, Touya offered to take you back to his place, which you happily accepted. You didn’t want the date to end.

The car ride over held a comfortable silence. You were looking out the tinted window at the city lights as you drove, absorbing the beauty while you thought about what you were going to do at Touya’s place. You entered a parking garage and watched as the cars passed while driving to the upper levels.

Touya’s apartment was nothing like you expected. Of course, there was art on every wall, but it was extremely clean and organized. Touya watched as you explored his flat, looking at every drawing and picture with curiosity. He felt his heartbeat speeding up as he watched you. As you were looking at a particularly impressive drawing, you felt arms snake around your waist and a breath on the shell of your ear.

“You know, the second I saw you I knew I had to get to know you, and after that you just got hotter and hotter,” he whispered in your ear, giving you shivers. You turned around to face him, again wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I could say the same for you,” you whispered back, standing on your toes to lean in to kiss him. He smirked before gently pressing his lips against yours. The gentle kiss turned more passionate, and you felt a hand tap on your ass, telling you to jump up. You jumped and he caught you without breaking the kiss, carrying you to his bedroom before throwing you on the bed. He took his shoes off before crawling on top of you to continue the kiss.

You didn’t understand how his kisses were making you this hot and bothered. Maybe it was the combination of delicate and passionate with every move of his lips. Maybe it was how soft his hair felt in your fingers. Maybe it was how his hands explored every inch of your upper half without even taking off your shirt. All of it was driving you crazy. He pulled away to look at how flustered you were, and you felt him get harder from looking at you melting underneath him.

“I promise I don’t usually do this on the first date, but no matter how hard I try I can’t resist you,” he said, expressing his hesitation. He didn’t want you to think he only took you out for sex, and you could see it in his eyes. In response you took off your shirt to let him know it was okay. His eyes widened seeing you in just a bra, then he smirked knowing this was permission to go further. He took off his own shirt before leaning back down to kiss you and explore your body, this time without the barrier of clothing. He felt you breathe heavier at how he grabbed your waist, and he felt how painful his erection was getting at all of your small reactions. If you were this sensitive already, how could you take his cock?

He reached behind your back to unclip your bra, but while he was there he felt the bandage of your tattoo still there. He was going to have to take that off once he was finished with you. He pulled your bra off of your chest and couldn’t help but stare. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice trailing off like he didn’t know he said that out loud. You bit your lip in embarrassment, about to cover your chest with your arms. He stopped you in your tracks by pinning your arms back down and kissing you, pressing his bare chest to yours. He felt so warm above you, and you felt comforted by his body heat. After making sure you weren't embarrassed anymore by kissing you, he reached his hands up your waist once again, but this time he didn’t stop at your chest. He grabbed a handful of your tit, causing you to let out a breathy moan into his mouth. You felt him smirk against your lips. He reached the other hand up to squeeze your other tit while starting to toy with the nipple on the first one. You couldn’t help yourself from moaning as he twisted the nipple with his thumb and pointer finger, bucking your hips up to his to create more friction. He started giving the same treatment to the other one, circling his fingers around the hardened bud, making you squirm with pleasure.

“You like that, don’t you?” He smirked in your mouth and your face got hotter. You let out a shy and breathy ‘yeah,’ before pulling his head back down on your puffy lips. You didn’t think you could ever get enough of him. As you kissed you explored his body with your hands, his toned arms, shoulders, back, and abs. You reached your fingers under the band of his pants to tease him, hoping he would take the hint. You were getting uncomfortable with how wet you were, feeling your slick start to seep through your pants. He smirked into the kiss before pulling away to take your pants off. He took his pants off as well, leaving him in his boxers and you in your panties.

“Fuck doll, you’re practically dripping through these,” he said while gently starting to trace his fingers along the outlines of your folds, making you squirm with anticipation. You looked down at his boxers, almost drooling at how big the outline of his cock was. “Heh, like what you see, love?” You nodded eagerly before once again tracing your fingers along the band of his boxers and up his spine and shoulders.

“Patience, babe, I haven’t even eaten you out yet,” he chuckled before pulling your panties down, coming face to face with your sopping cunt. You had no idea what to do. You had never enjoyed anyone eating you out before, so you were nervous about Touya. You prayed to whatever god you believed in he knew what he was doing. You absolutely did not want to stop him because he was bad at eating you out. Your train of thought stopped when you felt Touya bite the inside of your thigh. “What’s wrong, doll?” He asked, looking up at you and rubbing his cheek against the bite mark he just made to soothe it.

“It’s just… I’ve never enjoyed being eaten out…” you said quietly, almost ashamed that you had to express this concern.

“Trust me, ok?” he whispered, kissing down your thigh. You nodded, putting your hands on top of his on your thighs. He finally got down to your folds and gave a light kiss to your clit. You relaxed into his touch, and he took that opportunity to wrap his arms around your thighs and pull you closer to his face. You gasped in surprise, but it turned into a moan when you felt him kiss your cunt sloppily. You laced your hands through his hair, moaning as he lightly sucked on your clit. He brought his fingers down to collect your slick and you felt him smirk on your cunt.

“You’re leaking so much for me, doll,” he said into your clit, the vibrations of his voice making you jump. You tried to respond but your words caught in your throat at him slipping a finger inside of you, curling it upward, and hitting your most sensitive spots. You couldn’t hold on to his hair anymore in fear of ripping it out of his head, so your hands settled on the bedsheets. He started pumping two fingers into your wet hole, circling your clit with his tongue gently. You were the loudest you had ever been, arching your back and gripping the sheets for dear life. You were so right to trust him with this.

“Touya, I’m gonna cum,” you whined in between breaths. He instantly pulled away from you, causing you to whine again, but this time in annoyance. He was smiling wide at how your eyebrows turned upwards, how tears shined at the corners of your eyes, and how your gorgeous chest rose and fell with every breath.

“You haven’t even seen my cock yet and you’re already gonna cum? That was awfully easy for how hard you were making it out to be,” he grinned at your reactions to his teasing. He loved seeing you so desperate for him. He brushed your hair out of your face and grabbed the side of your head, leaning down for a passionate kiss. You felt him moving above you, taking off his boxers while holding your face up so you couldn’t look down. You felt him start to grind against you with his bare erection, earning a moan of surprise at the cold metal of the piercing on his tip. He deepened the kiss, grinding harder on your slick as he did so, causing you to reach up to tangle your hands in his hair for something to hold on to.

“Are you on birth control? Do you want me to get a condom?” he whispered against your lips, grinding lighter so you could respond.

“I have an IUD, so as long as you promise you don’t have any STDs we don’t need a condom,” you smiled up at him. He smiled back. “I promise I don’t have any STDs. I get tested regularly,” he replied while rolling his eyes. You wrapped your legs around his hips, exposing your hole for him to enter. He gave you one last quick peck on the lips before lining himself up with your entrance. His eyes didn’t leave yours as he slid in the tip, getting even more turned on by the way your mouth started to open and your brows started to curl up. Your hands were gripping his shoulders harshly, unable to lift your arms up into his hair anymore. He continued to slide in after he assured you looked fine.

“Ohhhhh fuck, princess, you feel so fucking good,” he threw his head back and moaned. Your back started arching as he bottomed out, your vision going slightly blurry, and nothing but moans and pants escaped your lips. He laid on top of you, going even deeper inside while grabbing the bottom of your chin, forcing you to look at him. “fuck, doll, I don’t know if I can bring myself to ruin a pretty thing like you,” he teased above you, looking deep into your eyes. You wrapped your legs around his hips so he couldn’t move out of you.

“Please, Touya… I want you to ruin me… You can use me however you’d like,” you whispered to the man above you. You watched as his eyes turned into something more crazed, and you watched as he put a pillow underneath your back before slamming into your hole roughly. You yelped and your hands returned to his back, this time clawing red stripes down the length of it. You could tell he loved it by the way he groaned and thrust his hips onto yours. He decided to return the favor by reaching to your chest, circling each nipple with his fingers before pinching and squeezing. You felt your eyes rolling to the back of your head with the overwhelm of pleasure, and you felt tears streaming down your cheeks. You heard Touya chuckle above you.

“Dick too big for ya? That’s too bad, you gave me permission so I’m gonna use this tight hole any way I please tonight,” he said roughly, his voice wavering every time he pounded into you. All you could reply with was “Mmhmmm! Yes, yes, oh fuck,” in a voice way more high-pitched than it usually is. He let out a small laugh at your response.

“I’m gonna make you come now, ok baby?” He muttered, moving one hand from your chest to your cunt, taking his dick out to cover your folds with your slick before rutting back in. You nearly screamed as he brushed his fingers over your folds, spreading your juices all over. He started to stroke over your clit quickly, pushing in your nipple before flicking it intensely with his other hand.

“Ahhhh, fuck Touya, please,” you sobbed out, tears now streaming freely down your cheeks.

“You want me to fill you up, doll? Cum for me and I’ll give you your reward, hm?” You came the instant he told you to, back arching and legs shaking around his waist. Feeling your cumming cunt throb against his cock made Touya come after, filling you up with hot spurts of cum. He kept thrusting into you, your juices mixing in a white froth around the base of his cock, his spurts of spend slowing down with every thrust. Once he was finally satisfied, he slowly pulled out and watched as his cum leaked down over your asshole.

“Fuck, that sight could get me hard all over again,” he smirked to himself before looking up at your face and laughing. You were so exhausted. “C’mon, let's get you cleaned up,” he chuckled while picking you up bridal style and taking you to the bathroom. He sat you down on his toilet before turning the shower on.

“I’m not letting you in the shower until you pee,” he said to you behind his shoulder while feeling the water as it warmed up.

“What? Why?” You asked as his come began to leak out of your abused hole in clumps. “I don’t want you getting any UTIs or yeast infections. That would mean I would have to wait for more than a week to fuck you,” he said as if it was common knowledge. You laughed to yourself in shock. He was planning on fucking you again?

Once he was satisfied with the temperature of the water, he turned around to look at you, still pouting on the toilet. “I can’t pee with you in the room. I just think of you fucking me and my pussy gets tight all over again,” you pouted while looking up at him. He gave you a big laugh at that. You tried to hide your smile as you hid your face in your hands, trying to think about anything other than the man you just fucked. Eventually, it worked.

You stepped in the shower before Touya did, taking a longer time to get your hair fully wet. You heard him step in behind you and felt his arms around your bare waist, his face buried in your neck just where he liked it.

“You’re blocking the hot water, I’m cold!” You complained, turning around to face him. He could only look down at your discolored hardened nipples, licking his lips at what he saw. You rolled your eyes before pushing him aside to get under the water. You reached for his conditioner before he stopped you.

“You’re not gonna let me put your conditioner in? It’s the least I could do after railing you like that,” he said before grabbing the bottle and squeezing a lot more conditioner than he usually used on his hands. “Fine…” you said meekly, not fully trusting him with your hair type. You were surprised to find he was very gentle, coating every chunk of hair with an even amount before moving on to another. He ran his fingers through the strands, lightly combing out any big knots. You relaxed into his hands enjoying the soothing warm water on your chest while you got the chance. After he applied the conditioner he switched spots with you to put in conditioner of his own and wash his hands off.

“Before body wash… let’s see how dirty this little hole is,” he growled before trailing his hands down your stomach and arriving at your slippery folds. He slowly inserted two fingers, curling them upward to gather any cum he left deep inside you. He brought out his fingers and told you to look. There were clear and white streaks of gloss completely covering his fingers, linking the two together. You felt your face get hot with embarrassment.

“Heh, I got really deep inside of you, huh?” He smirked down at you. You just ignored him, grabbing the body wash and putting it on his loofa before cleaning yourself. You didn’t get very far before he stole it.

“C’mon, you get to wash your pretty body every day, why not give me a turn?” He joked as he started rubbing your chest with soap. Once he was satisfied with your front, he turned you around. Before cleaning your back, he slowly peeled the tattoo bandage off and ran it under the water to wash away any excess ink.

“I don’t mean to brag, but I gave you a pretty sick tattoo. Next time I’m definitely gonna have to do backshots,” he smiled while brushing his fingers gently over the ink to wipe away any dead skin accumulated through the day. “Hey, I was the one that designed it!” You bickered, failing to hide the smile in your voice. He chuckled before finishing up with washing your body.

Touya got out of the shower first, drying himself off a little with a towel before wrapping it around his waist and grabbing a towel to wrap you in. He held the towel out with open arms and you stepped into it, getting embraced by the warmth of the towel and his body. You giggled in your towel burrito before looking up at him through the hole at the top. You could almost see the hearts in his eyes. He gave you a peck on the lips before he put out a pair of his boxers for you (your panties were soaked and ruined for the night) and a band T-shirt. You quickly changed before snuggling under his comforter for warmth. Soon after you felt Touya join you, pulling you close against his bare chest and holding your head in his arms.

“I think I’m the luckiest person on Earth,” Touya whispered to no one in particular.

“I could say the same,” you replied.

#bnha #mha #touya todoroki x reader #touya x reader #touya todoroki #dabi x reader #bnha dabi #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bnha x reader #dabi #mha dabi #dabi smut #dabi x you #touya smut

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miviaceleste · 4 months ago

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A Blackrock Story: A Boy with Turquoise Eyes

Happy 12th Anniversary to Blackrock Chronicle!

This comic ended up being 47 pages long (when I first sketched it, it was only 20 pages long). Since I can only upload 30 images in a post, I had to combine 2 pages into 1 image so hopefully it's still visually fine and not annoying to scroll through!

I wrote this mini-story more than 10 years ago, so I figured it was time to finally make it into a comic (after editing the writing a lot because I became a much better writer since lol).

Be aware of the TWs, and I hope you enjoy this comic!

TW: Violence || Blood || Injuries/Scars/Burn Marks || Kidnapping || (Temporary) Death || Loss of Limb / Amputation

Thank you all for reading one of my most insane projects ever!

Now, here’s another long story:

About 8 years ago, my life became so busy that to stay on top of my studies and activities, I stopped watching a lot of YouTubers, including the Yogscast.

I’ve grown up throughout the years. I had to stop acting like a kid to figure out what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. I’m still an artist today, but I haven’t drawn in this way for about 3 years to pursue my real passion. I love to draw, but I didn’t have the time or inspiration to make something grand.

About 3 months ago, I suddenly got curious about how all those YouTubers I stopped watching were doing, so I checked out their channels and watched a video or two before moving on. When I got to the Yogscast channel, on the other hand, I quickly fell in love with the new content and with everyone again.

It was insane to see how immediately my love for them came back. In 3 months, I’ve watched so many videos and streams/VODs. It’s all so comforting, funny, and uplifting. Clearly, I missed so much content in the past 8 years, but at least I don’t have to worry about running out of things to watch for a while.

What made me most happy was that despite changing a lot, I never stopped being that kid who laughed at the Yogscast’s shenanigans. It just goes to show that no matter how much the world tries to push you around, you never lose that sense of joy you had as a child.

Now, about Rythian:

Since I started watching the Yogscast in 2011, Rythian has always been my favorite. I loved his series so much, especially with how he got into character to give us an immersive experience. It was an escape for me as a kid. When difficult moments were thrown at me, I watched Rythian’s series to find a sense of comfort.

So when I started watching his and Zoey’s Blackrock series, my mind was blown. The storytelling, acting, humor, and drama of the series were so immersive and touching that my creativity exploded.

I mainly use art to express myself and my interests because I struggle to talk about it. But funny enough, Blackrock was the only interest of mine that got me to not draw, but to write. I wrote a lot of short stories about the series—even how I envisioned the series would end. I was so inspired to create all the time from this series.

And what’s crazy is that at the beginning of this summer, I found all of those written drafts and notes from when I was a kid. I kept them all for 10+ years and found a very loose (and not that good) draft of this comic and I felt really inspired to finish it.

It was roughly when I was first watching Blackrock too when I realized that I can be creative in the future. The Yogscast helped me understand that I can do whatever I want for the rest of my life. If they could do it, then why can’t I?

What’s also wonderful is that even after so many years, Rythian never stopped being my favorite. When I started watching the main channel again a few months ago, I immediately found myself rooting for him whenever he was in the group videos. I just remembered how much happiness he brought me when I was younger and it makes me so happy that I still get so much joy whenever I hear his voice.

While working on this comic, I watched all of Kirbycraft and caught up on Kirby Farm. I can’t help but smile the whole time Rythian, Briony, and Kirsty interact with one another. The dynamic of these three brings me so much laughter and comfort. A part of me is upset that I didn’t get back to watching everyone when Kirbycraft was still live, but better late than never, right?

I also originally started this comic without the intention of posting it. But then I figured, Hey, it’d be great to share it with everyone who’s also been impacted by this series and the Yogscast in general, so I made this blog to post it here. Honestly, I’m not sure when the next time I’ll be able to draw is (who knew building a career takes away a lot of your energy and time?). But I think that’s what’s so wonderful about my love for Yogscast and particularly Blackrock: I didn’t make this comic for the likes or views. It was just because I wanted to, and I’m so happy to see there are so many people on here who feel the same love for them as I do.

This series and the people who made it, along with the people who supported it and loved it and continued to love it, impacted me for the better. I learned so many years ago that I can be creative for a living, and have been working hard towards doing that since.

Happy 12th Anniversary to the Blackrock Chronicle. To Rythian and Zoey who put a smile on this kid’s face even during the toughest of times.

And to the Yogscast, thank you for being there for me when I needed you all the most and for still being here when I came back. Your ability to inspire me and make me laugh never disappeared throughout the years I was gone, and I’m ready to laugh some more.

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jamespotterismydaddy · 5 months ago

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Lord Husband (Chapter 12)

A/N: ik it took be forever to post this, pls dont crucify me. I also don't care if we have canon cregan; thats literally not my man

WORD COUNT: 1,078 words

masterlist

You gave him hope. You knew you did and perhaps you shouldn’t have. It would have been easier if you didn’t, but you think you… wanted to? Do you want to have dinner with him?

“Seven hells.” You grumble to Sȳndror after you’ve dismounted. “I suppose I have to eat with him.”

Well, you know you don’t have to. You didn’t even give him proper confirmation, but it’s much simpler to think of it as something you can’t avoid, you decide, making the walk back inside the castle.

“Draw my bath.” You say to Rose as you enter your chambers. “And you’ll need to select a proper evening gown for me today. I’ll be having my supper with Lord Stark.”

“You will?” Your handmaiden asks, looking at you as though you’ve grown a second head.

“I have just said it, haven’t I? Don’t look so bewildered.”

“My apologies.” She curtseys and runs off to start your bath.

When you walk over to the prepared tub, she begins to help you undress. “My apologies for my harsh tone. The situation is simply unusual for me.”

“You never need to apologize, princess. I understand fully.” She finishes undoing your dress and lets the garment drop before also helping you out of your shift.

“I brought him to meet Sȳndror today.” You say wistfully as you step into the perfectly hot bath. Rose always knows just how you like it.

“What prompted that?” She asks carefully, knowing that not even your closest friends have met the beast.

“He caught me watching him train. I wanted to frighten him.” You reply and she giggles.

“I would expect nothing less.” She says and begins to wash your body clean from the smell of dragon. “I also quite like watching the way the northernmen train.”

“There is something unique about the way they move.” You murmur thoughtfully.

“I would say there is something… primal in it.” Rose says with a giggle, clearly thinking about a different adjective in truth.

“Yes, it's very rough.” You muse.

“Did he get along with Sȳndror?” She asks, now running her fingers through your wet hair.

“He is not dead. So, I suppose the answer is yes.” You both giggle.

“Well, I am sure he is appreciative of the honour.”

“He doesn’t quite realize how much of an honour it is.”

“Lord Stark doesn’t know he is the first non-Targaryen you have brought to meet your dragon?” She gives you a slightly bewildered look.

“Of course not. He would be far too pleased with himself if he knew.” You roll your eyes and with your hair washed, you stand, Rose bringing you a robe.

“It is very gracious of you to allow him the meeting nonetheless.”

“I am known to be gracious.” You reply with a cheeky smile and the both of you giggle.

“I am excited that you’ll be getting more wear out of your evening gowns.” Rose says as she throws open the doors of your closet. “This one could be most suitable.” She holds out a stormy grey dress and you scoff.

“There’s no way in the Seven Hells i’m wearing Stark colours.”

“But it would make him go positively insane.” Rose muses.

“I’ll have one of my black and red gowns.” You say, ignoring her. “The one with the sleeves that Baela adores.”

“Oh, that will be a splendid choice. Lord Stark has never seen you in a proper evening gown. This one will make for a strong start.” She admires the dress in the cupboard before fetching your small clothes.

When you’re dressed, you look nothing short of phenomenal.

“He may faint from the sight of you.”

“I hope he does.” You murmur, checking yourself one last time in the mirror before strutting out of the room. “Come, Ser Robert. I will be suppering with Lord Stark.” You say to the surprised guard as you walk past him.

“You will dine… with your husband, princess?” He asks in a confused tone as he catches up with you.

“Well I just said that, did I not?” You shoot in a snarky tone.

He chuckles. “My apologies. I simply did not realize you enjoyed his company.”

“I am starting to think that I don’t enjoy your company. Perhaps I should get a new protector.”

“Any man but I will be subpar and that is the second time you have threatened to replace me today, princess. Should I be worried?”

“Not worried. Perhaps just less irritating.” You smile.

“Anything to please her highness.” He responds playfully just before the two of you arrive at one of the smaller dining halls in the castle. The doors are thrust open for you, your protector waiting just outside as you walk in.

Cregan stands when he sees you and immediately makes his way over before bringing your hand up for a kiss. “Princess.” He murmurs, not wanting to seem too casual by using your name (even if you are his wife).

“Lord Stark.” Your formality makes him frown. His own formality also made him frown.

“That dress looks beautiful on you.” He says, wanting to make sure you know he’s complimenting you and not the gown. He couldn’t care less about a few pieces of fabric.

“You are also looking well.” You murmur in response, meeting his eyes for a fraction of a second before gliding out of his hold and to your seat. You can feel the ghostly touch of his lips on your hand and you see how he lingers for just a moment before sitting down himself.

“How was your ride today?” He asks as you start to plate your food.

“‘Twas as good as it can be. Sȳndror is restless these days. He doesn’t enjoy flying as high as he used to; I think the bite of chill in the air bothers him.”

“I hope that he can settle soon. It will get warmer… in a few months' time.” Cregan tries to help, but the discussion of the passage of time unnerves you. You don’t want to think about how in a few months, you will still be here.

“He isn’t used to being alone.” Neither are you.

“Then we will have to house your brothers for a visit. I know how important family is.” He sees it then, the little glimmer in your eyes at the suggestion. Your husband feels like he’s made you somewhat happy for the first time ever.

“I would like that.”

comment to be added to the taglist

#lord husband #cregan stark fic #cregan x reader #cregan stark #cregan #cregan stark x reader #hotd x reader #hotd

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allfortheslay25 · 1 year ago

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Twinyards Birthday 🎂 11/4

Honestly, I cramped up so bad before I could finish, but since I’ll be busy today I decided to just push through so I could post it

Another thing, I always have issues drawing Aaron for some reason but I finally got him right and then realized too late that I don’t like how Andrew looks in this :/

I also did not draw the background cuz I’m lazy like that so I inserted and image and edited it to abstract

Hc: Aaron likes mint chip ice cream or something with caramel but because he’s so into health he doesn’t have them very often

Lastly, here’s a playlist I made with my sister for the Twinyards!

#aftg #all for the game #art #fanart #andrew minyard #aaron minyard #twinyards #Spotify

749 notes · View notes

marlenesluv · 1 year ago

Text

Paper Rings. (DR)

summary: posting book content and drawing is your job, reading and drawing is luckily two of your favorite hobbies. y’know, besides posting your boyfriend, daniel.

warnings: none!

pairing: daniel ricciardo x book!reader (slight mention of reader being an artist as well)

note: not sure, but i might make this a thing with every driver..? idk. it’s tempting for sure. also, slight age-gap in my mind when i wrote this. daniel is 34, i was imaging reader as 25/26. another thing, lmao, and this pertains to all my daniel stuff, im just writing as if he’s in redbull. im missing redbull era hard.

masterlist here -> masterlist link

^ check my list for all posts! ^

liked by: danielricciardo, carlossainz55, and 782,577 others

y/n.user: midnight runs and cute annotations🎀

view comments…

danielricciardo: i look quite handsome

|> maxverstappen1: you’re cocky

|> y/n.user: he does look handsome, though

|> maxverstappen1: wow, she compliments and is smart, how tf

|> danielricciardo: 😇🖕(ily y/n!)

|> y/n.user: 💁‍♀️ (ily too!)

bookstergram: have you seen the movie ‘pride and prejudice’? or are you waiting till you finish the book?

|> y/n.user: ive seen it! (a thousand times lol) i’m rereading it rn

f1.editpage: you guys are my parents, you just don’t know it yet :/

wag.off1: our book barbie 🎀💐🩷🩰

|> y/n.user: EEK 🥹

|> danielricciardo: what am i??😁

|> wag.off1: you’re just ken

|> danielricciardo: 🙁

|> y/n.user: but you’re keneough for me 😔❤️

|> danielricciardo: i will happily be your ken❤️😇

user55: do they make us feel single on purpose…

_______________________________________________

liked by: y/n.user, georgerussell63, and 1,067,190 others

danielricciardo: my multitalented gf🎨

view comments…

francisca.cgomes: wow, your gf is so so pretty

|> danielricciardo: i know😁

|> y/n.user: my heart 🥹🫶 i love you kika (and daniel ofc!)

|> danielricciardo: 🤨 come give me kisses, that was mean

|> y/n.user: fine🙄😚

scottyjames31: wow, didn’t realize you ran a fanpage

|> danielricciardo: for my girl? of course i do

fanpage.f1: i need someone who posts me like this

user93: where tf do i find a daniel??

|> user35: for starters, im gonna need to be a little richer LMAO

|> user74: well, daniel and y/n grew up together, so just grow up with an f1 driver LOLZ

wagsoff1: our wag is looking so beautiful and creative in these

y/nfanpage: she’s so pretty wtfffff

booklover98: my book content mom🤗

_______________________________________________

liked by: danielricciardo, haleypham, and 814,134 others

y/n.user: italy, i love you

view comments…

danielricciardo: but you love me more

|> y/n.user: of course i love you more, danny 😌

wags.f1: you guys are so cute

book.lover: these pictures are so aesthetic UGH

des.sidster: what book are you reading??

|> y/n.user: the duke and i!

|> des.sidster: omg! finally starting? lmk🫶

|> y/n.user: ofc!🫶

y/n.fanpage: i need more y/n content. her page is j danny and books

|> user45: maybe that’s because she loves daniel and her books LMAO

|> danielricciardo: hmmmm🤔

dannyric.fp: the danny content? mother is feeding us🤲

pierregasly: we are also in italy??

|> y/n.user: are you asking me…?

|> pierregasly: why haven’t you asked to hangout with me and kika?

|> y/n.user: do you guys wanna get dinner tonight?

|> francisca.cgomes: yes! text our gc!!

user92: they have a gc??

|> daniel.y/n.fp: daniel mentioned in an interview once that he, y/n, kika, and pierre have one where they plan hangouts!

_______________________________________________

liked by: y/n.user, carlossainz55, and 1,110,924 others

danielricciardo: i’ll marry you with paper rings (did i do it right, babe?)

view comments…

y/n.user: you did so good, love ☹️🩷

|> danielricciardo: 😁🩷

user11: this post is calling me single in every way possible. wtf

f1wags: the first picture is so sweet, but the second⁉️ i’m sobbing

maxverstappen1: i always think i’m following a fanpage when i scroll through my instagram and see these, and then i realize you’re just down bad

|> danielricciardo: sue me for being in love

|> y/ns.fanpage: i’m about to, you guys make me feel lonely

user46: the way he supports her reading addiction, posts her, and loves her more than anything ☹️

|> user16: we’re all living vicariously through them

danric.edits: we are NOT skipping over the fact that he just said that he would “marry her with paper rings” are we???

|> y/n.photoshoots: fr, like, are our parents finally gonna get married?

bookster.gram: my book mom 🫶

_______________________________________________

liked by: danielricciardo, lilymhe, and 1,162,935 others

y/n.user: bro ☹️🥹 how do i not violently sob rn

view comments…

danielricciardo: i violently sobbed when you said ‘yes’

|> y/n.user: i’m gonna sob again

des.sidster: omgggg, congratulations!!🩷

|> y/n.user: thank you des!🩷

y/nfanpage: change ur user now??

|> user04: she’s prolly waiting till they get married

saracarrolli: congratulations, pretty girl!! you guys are adorable together

|> y/n.user: thank you sara! :’)

books4life: mom and dad are getting married guys😭🫶🥹

bookofthemonth: congratulations to one of our favorite couples!! expect book mail <3

|> y/n.user: aww, haha, thank you!!!!

pierregasly: wow, he actually proposed. congratulations!

|> y/n.user: thanks pierre🙄

|> pierregasly: watch it or i wont come to the wedding

|> y/n.user: who said you were invited?

|> pierregasly: excuse me😦

|> danielricciardo: shes joking😶

_______________________________________________

liked by: y/n.user, maxverstappen1, and 1,924,035 others

danielricciardo: i love you, thank you for saying yes to forever❤️

view comments…

y/n.user: i love you more❤️

|> danielricciardo: impossible❤️

ricciardo.fp: they are too cute, your honor

charles_leclerc: congratulations, mate!!

|> danielricciardo: thank you!!

user82: mom & dad are so cuteee AHHHHHHH

dan.ricccc.fp: you didn’t marry her with paper rings tho!

christianhorner: congratulations, daniel and y/n!!

|> y/n.user: thank you, christian!! (from me and dan)

maxverstappen1: congratulations, guys!!!

|> georgerussell63: maxiel is dead now

|> danielricciardo: thank you max! and maxiel will never die

|> maxverstappen1: so true

bookk.gram: my roman empire fr

_______________________________________________

(reposts, comments, and likes are appreciated!^-^)

#formula 1 #f1 #formula one #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo fluff #daniel ricciardo x ofc #daniel ricciardo x female reader #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel riccardo imagine #daniel riccardo x reader #smau #daniel ricciardo smau

791 notes · View notes

preciouslandmermaid · 8 months ago

Text

nothing’s gonna hurt you baby (carmy x f!reader) - bonus post-epilogue chapter

Note: I randomly wanted to write a wedding, but I don't actually include the ceremony, so this is more like a "pre-wedding/post-wedding" story if we're being honest ! Also it takes place about 2 years after the epilogue :)

Warnings/Tags: 18+ Content! (Explicit Language/Sexual Content).

(Read on Ao3) /// (Masterpost)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sydney held the wooden spoon toward you and the scent of the honey and ginger glaze tickled your nostrils. Earlier in the afternoon, she rolled the sleeves of her dark green sweater to her elbows and the beaded bracelet (a gift from Richie’s daughter, Eva) slid partway down her wrist.

“Alright, it’s your entree. You get to try it first.”

“I thought that was the chef’s honor?”

“Yeah, well, you’re the bride so…” she trailed off, shrugging. “I think that superimposes chef’s honor.”

You smiled and raised both eyebrows at Syd. She didn’t have to help, especially considering how busy The Bear is nowadays, but she offered and you gratefully accepted. Wedding planning – as it turned out – was a stressful affair. You and Carmy had your location set, but the guest list, wedding registry, and menu were woefully incomplete. You tangled yourselves into knots over the planning, but the goal remained firm in your mind; a celebration with Carmy and your friends mixed with the legality of marriage. You would overcome any hurdles you needed to cross because all of it would be worth it in the end.

Wordlessly, you closed your mouth over the spoon. Your lips puckered and your tongue recoiled to the safety of your back molars.

“Oh, oh shit,” Sydney said emphatically, “you hate it.”

“N-no!” You coughed, swallowing, and grabbing your glass of water. “The acidity is just a little...strong. It needs to be adjusted, that’s all.”

“Fuck,” she said, slapping her palm on the wooden countertop. “Okay – uh – that’s okay. We can – I can totally fix this. No biggie.” When she tasted the glaze, her expression pinched before she stuck out her tongue and gagged. “Yeah, nope.” She released a forced, short laugh. “There’s no saving that one.”

You loved Syd’s earnest, anxious awkwardness. Her blunt nature had been the first foundational stone of your friendship. You liked that she didn’t let Carmy off the hook, regardless of his experience and talent, and their partnership was an integral component to the Bear’s continued success.

“Back to the drawing board,” you said, drumming your fingers on the countertop. “Maybe ginger is too sharp? Do we lean more savory?”

“Interesting idea coming from the baker,” she teased.

“Hey!” You pretended to be offended and infused your tone with as much indignation as you could. “Just because I run a bakery doesn’t mean I have a sweet tooth.”

Syd laughed. “There is literally a bowl of candy by the entryway.”

“It’s for Halloween.” You crossed your arms and said, “There are a ton of families in this building.” In truth, your lack of nicotine intake after quitting smoking had manifested into a ravenous sweet tooth and, the lollipops – although bad for your teeth – were monumentally healthier than cigarettes.

“Dude, Halloween is seven months away.”

“We’re prepared.”

“What for like kids who don’t know how to like tell time and show up a few months early?”

“Obviously.”

She finished scraping the glaze into the trash. “You’re fucking ridiculous.” Her bright smile faded and the light entered her dark eyes. You recognized it as her ‘I have an idea face’ and your mood lifted—the overly sour glaze quickly forgotten. When Carmy said he wanted The Bear to cater your wedding, you had been shocked, and concerned about the additional stress it would add to your lives. However, with Syd in your kitchen, the pan gripped in her hand and her expression rapt with wonder, you realized that you had nothing to worry about. The wedding’s menu and food preparation were in the best hands.

“Do you have any soy sauce?” she asked, “Worcestershire sauce will work too, or liquid aminos if we’re desperate.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Carmy watched as your fingers held aloft over the keyboard and the spreadsheet glared menacingly in a harsh blue-white glow. The guest list had been easy to start. The obvious ones were Syd, Natalie, Peter, Richie and Eva, and your best friend, Taylor. The harder choices were family and how to arrange the tables. Your eyebrows angled in confusion and you drew your hands away.

“I’m not inviting my dad,” you said after a moment’s pause.

Carmy nodded. “Okay.”

His neck prickled uncomfortably. It wasn’t the flushed heat that arrived when he felt embarrassed. No. This discomfort traveled from his neck to his fingers. It raked across his skin like a thousand needles, pricking every nerve, and drawing blood. He thought about going to his coat pocket and withdrawing a crumpled pack of cigarettes. The quick, cold rush of nicotine would ease his headache and calm his nerves. But, if he smoked, then he’d need to walk downstairs and into the blustery sharp gray wind of March. And he didn’t want to bail on you. The puzzle of who to invite and who to sit with whom was a project for the both of you to untangle.

“I dunno if I should…” He cleared his throat and looked away when your eyes met his over the laptop screen. “I dunno.”

“Your mom?” you correctly guessed.

Carmy sniffed, scratched the side of his nose, and nodded. His heart thumped into his ribs. Maybe he should take a walk. Maybe the March air would clear this dreadful feeling from his skull. His stomach hardened into a pit at the idea of his mom coming to his wedding. But, at the same time, his dread and fear congealed into a sharp guilt that curdled his stomach acid. His mom was a force to be reckoned with. A hurricane of a woman. He loved her. He didn’t know if he wanted her at the wedding. He knew she’d be upset if she weren’t invited. But, both of you decided to keep the guest list small. The careful cuts were necessary, and not just due to the frugality aspect, but in terms of everyone’s enjoyment.

“She’d make it about her,” he said, “remember Sophia’s second birthday?”

You placed your hand on the middle of Carmy’s back, right between his tense shoulder blades, and he forced a harsh exhale through his teeth. They almost called the police, Carmy thought with a frown. His mom showed up and seemed fine, and then shortly before cake and presents, she buckled little Sophia into her car and claimed that Natalie hated her and didn’t want Sophia to have a relationship with her grandmother. His niece, at the age when separation anxiety often occurred, cried so much that she threw up on her special birthday dress.

“I do,” you said and your eyes softened.

“I’m a terrible son,” Carmy said, “I’m a fucking asshole. We have to invite her, don’t we? She deserves to be there.”

“Carmy, you’re not.” You rubbed his back. “Do you think I’m an asshole for not inviting my dad?”

He quickly said, “No.” The pit in his stomach gnawed at his smoke-deprived lungs. “It’s different.”

“How so?”

“He has another family.” Carmy stood, raking his hand through his hair. “My mom only has Nat and me.”

“So you have to sacrifice your happiness and comfort for hers?”

“Yes!” he said immediately followed by a quick, “No. I don’t know.” He reached into his coat pocket hanging by the door and fished out the squashed packet of cigarettes.

You trailed after him and wound your arms around him, pressing your face into his back, your hands coming to rest over his heart. Carmy froze. The pressure of your hands on his chest made him realize how fast his heart was beating. He squeezed the cigarette packet and it crinkled beneath his clammy fingers.

“Remind me,” you said, voice faintly muffled by his t-shirt, “what was the possible diagnosis your therapist gave her?”

“Borderline personality disorder.” His therapist also said his mom could have narcissistic personality disorder, but BPD was more likely, based on his descriptions of childhood. It helped to have a name for it. It gave him a better understanding of everything he went through.

“Which defines her behavior but doesn’t excuse it,” you said as you circled around him to face him. “Carmy, I love you.” You cupped his face in your hands. “I will support you if you want to invite Donna and I’ll weather any storms she brings with her. Who knows...maybe it’ll be a good day for her.” Your tone toward the end of your sentence became dubious.

Carmy sighed. “I don’t think I want to invite her, but I feel like I should.” He frowned. “That doesn’t make sense, does it?”

“No, it does. You feel an obligation as her son to share this big moment with her. I get it.”

“Do you feel guilty about not inviting your dad?”

“A little.” Your lips pursed. “But, if I visualize our wedding, the thought of my dad standing beside me doesn’t make me happy. I don’t feel excited about it. I just feel…”

“Dread?” he guessed.

You smiled faintly. “It’s more annoyance and anger for me.”

“Mm, yeah. Makes sense.” He leaned his forehead and touched it to yours. How did he get so lucky? He imagined the wedding. He imagined seeing you across from him, sliding the ring on your finger, and stuttering through his vows. The usual nervousness bubbled up inside his chest, but it was smothered by the overwhelming warmth and affection he felt for you that bled across his skin like thick honey.

“I don’t think I can invite her,” he whispered.

“That’s okay, Carm.” You kissed him softly. “That’s okay.” You repeated against his mouth. A sensation of cool and blissful relief extinguished the last lingering remnants of his dread.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Something is weird,” you said, leaning forward in the passenger seat. “Why are there two florist vans? Did we accidentally get two?” You didn’t recognize the name on the second van either. Must be a local shop, you thought, although that doesn’t explain why they’re here.

“I don’t think so,” Carmy said.

As everyone poured out of their cars, their garment bags slung over their arms or over their shoulders, a sharply dressed black woman emerged from the entrance and strode purposefully toward you and Carmy.

“You must be the Berzattos,” she said breathlessly as she shook your hands. “It’s good to meet you. My name is Vivienne and I’m afraid I have bad news.”

“What sort of bad news?” Richie said, “The kind that gets us a discount?” He grinned at Carmy and your husband-to-be rolled his eyes.

“Perhaps.”

Richie whispered, “Oh shit.”

“We’ve had some technical issues with our new scheduling program.” She wrung her hands together. “The venue has been double-booked.”

“Okay,” you said slowly, noticing all the additional staff buzzing to and fro across the manicured lawn.

Vivienne said, “I’m so sorry for the mistake. If you’d like, we can reschedule you.”

Your stomach dropped into your shoes.

“Absolutely not,” you said, “people flew out to be here. We can’t reimburse flights and accommodations, and nor should we have to considering this is your error.” You sighed, feeling a headache press into your temples. “Why didn’t you notify us?”

“How about a discount and you can split the venue?” she offered, “we only realized the mistake when the two catering companies showed up.”

“Well, that’s convenient,” said Richie.

“Fuck,” Syd said.

Natalie crossed her arms. “I’m sorry did they say double-booked?”

“Mommy!” Sophia pulled at Natalie’s pant leg. “Mommy, look! Sunflowers!” She pointed at the floral van carrying out their arrangements.

You shared a glance with Carmy. “Can we have a minute?”

“Of course. Again, we’re so sorry.”

You and Carmy broke away from the group of your closest friends and family. You rubbed your hands down the length of your face.

“We can’t reschedule,” you said, “but how the hell are we going to share the venue? They have one kitchen and we paid for our guests to stay the night.”

“Maybe the timing works out,” Carmy said, taking your hand in his. “You want to stay here?”

“Yes.”

“Then fuck it. We stay.”

“Okay, fuck it.” You smiled. “Let’s negotiate a good discount.”

“Say the word and I’ll send Pete in,” Carmy joked.

You laughed. “God, we might need him.”

The organization was a cluster-fuck. The venue manager, Vivienne, assured and promised that the space was large enough and that the other party – the Carmichael's – were having a noon wedding with a 2 PM reception and everything would be cleaned up for your 4 PM wedding and 5 PM reception. But, you noticed the proverbial cracks in the foundation. The necessary kitchen prep work, the clashing decorations, the intermingling guests, and the underlying stress and confusion permeated every interaction. You practiced intentional breathing and hoped you’d make it through the day without bursting into stress-induced tears.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The zipper was halfway up when it broke. You felt the snag, then the tug and pull, and the abrupt separation. You pressed your hand to your mouth and muffled the noise of discontent and frustration that threatened to break free.

Taylor pushed her long, thick dark braid over her shoulder and pursed her red lips at you. “We can work with this,” she said after a long moment of contemplation. “We can fix it.”

You released a strangled, “can we?” You blinked back your burning tears—you didn’t want to ruin your makeup.

“Yeah, most of these places have emergency sewing kits,” your best friend said while digging through the drawers, “also, this might be a bad time, but is the chef single?”

Despite everything, you laughed. “Which chef?”

“The tall blonde one with the accent.”

“Luca?”

Taylor’s eyes brightened. “Yes!”

“I’ll find out for you,” you said while reaching for your phone. You smiled at the sight of your phone background, a black and white photo of you and Carmy, and Taylor snickered.

“I remember when you told me about him,” she said.

“You do?”

“Yeah, you were all tied into knots about it...and now look at you! Tying the knot.” She winked. “I’m glad you guys figured it out.”

Your chest warmed with pleasure. “Me too.”

“Aha!” She held the little sewing kit aloft. It had the venue's name printed on the front of the bag. “Do you think they write this so nobody steals it?” She asked while tapping the swooping decal.

Before you could answer, your mom bustled into the room, her billowing lilac sleeves trailing after her arms.

“Oh! Look at you!” She grabbed your chin and kissed your cheek. “I’ve got something for you. A little tradition.”

“Mom, I don’t know if I can stomach any more surprises.” Taylor began to fix your zipper and the cold metal teeth periodically kissed your skin.

“You’ll like this surprise.”

Your mom removed a potted plant from her purse. The dark soil clung to her fingertips, the plant likely got knocked around more than once, as she set it down on the vanity. You recognized the wide, verdant leaves.

“A basil plant?”

“Normally, we give a flower of some type, but I chose a basil plant instead.” She smiled, pleased. “Nurture the plant as you nurture your future and it’ll thrive.”

Your throat tightened. “Thanks, Mom.” Your shoulders jerked as Taylor finished zipping and she whooped in triumphant delight.

“There we go, crisis averted,” said Taylor, “now we don’t have to worry about walking down the aisle naked.”

You rubbed your fingertips along the basil leaf and smiled at them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“God,” Richie said, fixing his tie, “I can’t believe you’re getting fucking married, cousin.”

“Yeah, me either.” Carmy scratched the side of his nose.

“I always thought Mikey’d get married before you,” he said, “he was just more charmin’, you know? He had a way with people, women especially, God…” Richie shook his head. “He couldn’t walk down the street without getting some chick’s phone number.”

Carmy stared sullenly at his reflection. “Yeah, well, maybe it’s a good thing he didn’t? ‘Cause then he’d have an ex-wife, or a widow, or a kid or somethin, I dunno.”

Carmy wondered if he’d forever be in rooms with Mikey’s shadow stuck to the corners. It didn’t suffocate him as much anymore. Mikey’s memory lurked within every conversation – like slivers of light through the paneled window shades. Today of all days though, Carmy suspected those slivers would blind him. Mikey should’ve been here, could’ve been, and he wasn’t.

“Yeah, good point.” Richie turned the side and smoothed his lapels. “Still, it should be him.”

Carmy’s neck flushed with indignation. Did Richie seriously have to be such an asshole? His brow furrowed. It was his fucking wedding day for fuck’s sake!

“Cousin—” Carmy began.

“Standing here, I mean, as your best man,” said Richie. “Look, there’s no takebacks and this would be a hell of a time to change your mind but it should’ve been Mikey. Not me. I get that, okay? That’s all I’m trying to say…” He fixed his tie again. “And I’m gonna do everything to make sure that this day doesn’t go to shit. I can promise you that, alright?”

Carmy blinked, at a loss for words at Richie’s admission. It had been six years and counting since Mikey’s death and Richie had been with him for every one. If he was being honest with himself and not caught up on nostalgia, if Mikey was here, then Carmy wasn’t sure he would have trusted him with all the responsibility. Hell, Richie organized a pizza-making bachelor party for him. He offered to trash the other couple’s wedding.

“Who else would it be?” he asked softly, “you’re family, Richie.”

Richie sniffed, nodded, and clapped his hand on Carmy’s shoulder, jostling him. When Carmy met his eyes, they were glassy and bright.

“I know.” His lips twitched up into a grin. “Let’s get you fucking married!” He pulled Carmy in a one-armed, half-hug and shook him. “Put a fucking smile on that face, Carm. Come on! Come on!”

He affectionately pinched Carmy’s face in one hand, squishing his mouth, and Carmy shoved Richie away, annoyed, but laughing—in the same way he’d get annoyed and laugh whenever Mikey goofed around with him.

“Fuck off,” said Carmy, without any heat.

“Hey,” Syd poked her head into the doorway, “you ready? The photographer wants to see all of the groomsmen.”

“Shouldn’t you say grooms-people? To be like politically correct or whatever,” Richie asked, “or groomsmen and women considering you’re among us.”

Syd made a face. “Richie shut up and come pose with us.”

“Hey, I’m just trying to be inclusive,” he said loudly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If someone asked you to recount all the details of your wedding—you didn’t think you could. It was the busiest and most stressful day of your life. You’d always remember the finer details like Carmy’s thoughtful, flustered vows, Richie starting a limbo competition, or Syd’s dad dancing with Taylor—at least for a while until she disappeared with Luca in tow. Good for you, you remembered thinking as you watched her form retreat down the hall.

But the rest of the day was an exuberant blur. It had been long and you were grateful to relax into the lush pillowcases with your short silk gown kissing your skin.

Carmy climbed into bed after showering and peppered kisses along your nose and jaw, his hands finding your hips beneath the covers and holding them.

“I can’t believe you’re my husband,” you said with soft laughter before chasing his lips with yours.

“And you’re my wife,” he said, lifting your wrists and placing them over your head, “keep those there.”

You said, “We’ve been married less than twelve hours and you’re already bossing me around?”

Carmy chuckled and his breath puffed over your peaked nipples. His tongue laved over the silk, and moistened it before he drew your nipple between his lips. The soft silk and warmth of Carmy’s tongue was a heady, back-arching mixture.

“Oh, fuck,” you whispered, plunging your hands into his damp curls and scraping your nails over his scalp.

“Yeah?” His calloused palm felt its way down your thigh, “Are you wet for me already?”

“A little,” you admitted as you parted your legs for him.

“God,” he muttered before mouthing along your breasts and wetting the silk with his tongue and lips. He held one of your breasts in his hand and squeezed, pushing the mound into his mouth again and sucking your hard nipple. The sensation turned to liquid, sticky heat between your legs. You moaned, pushing upward into his grasp and gyrating your hips in askance. His hand was frustratingly close to your cunt, but not close enough. He rubbed up and down your inner thigh from knee to apex, letting his knuckles occasionally brush your pussy, before drawing away without adding any pressure. The fucking nerve of him!

“My wife is so fucking hot,” Carmy said, and hearing the words sent a hot, fresh thrill trembling through you.

“And my husband is a fucking tease,” you said, digging your fingertips into his hard, sculpted shoulders.

Carmy pulled his mouth away from your wet breasts. The silk had darkened where his mouth had been and you could faintly see your nipples through the semi-translucent fabric.

“Am I?” He drew his hands away from you and grabbed your wrists again, pinning them above your head, “I thought I said to keep these here.”

You snorted. “When have I ever listened?”

“You’re a great listener,” he said honestly.

“I want to touch you, Carmy,” you said, matching his honesty with your own, even as his praise sang through your ears and warmed your skin.

He softened. “Okay.” He pulled your wedding ring-adorned hand to his mouth and kissed your knuckles. The moment he released your hand, you slid your fingers down his chest, smiling at the way his eyelashes fluttered and his cheeks darkened. You wiggled your fingers beneath the tight waistband of his boxer shorts and found him hard and pulsing within your grasp.

“Fuck.” He shuddered. “I feel like I could come just by looking at you.”

He jerked his hips into your touch as your fingers encircled him. You craned your neck upward and kissed him, finding the familiar rhythm of tongue and teeth, and moaning wantonly into his mouth when his hand cupped your wet folds. He hissed when his index finger pledged into you and your mind went white-hot and blank.

“Do you think the stress of the day has manifested into being super horny for each other?” You asked, your other hand cupping the back of Carmy’s neck, pinning his face close to yours so you could kiss him. His pretty blue eyes blinked at you.

“Maybe. But, I think I just want to fuck my wife.” His cock twitched in your hand and you grinned.

“It turns you on to call me your wife, doesn’t it?”

“It does.”

His admission made your walls clench around his index finger. Maybe you liked it too. Maybe. You felt Carmy smile against your lips. “Can’t wait to be inside you,” he muttered, “filling you, listening to you moan.”

You gasped and your eyes rolled back into your skull. It wasn’t often that Carmy engaged in dirty talk, so when he did, it was a rare and special treat that never failed to drench your core. Carmy ran his tongue along your neck, tasting your sweat before a second finger speared between your folds and coaxed that inner fire.

“Keep this on,” he said, dragging his teeth across the strap of your gown, “when I fuck you.”

“Mm – fuck. Okay,” you groaned.

“Actually, I—” his words were suddenly lost to a moan as you adjusted your grip on his cock, your fingers slicked with pre-cum. “Fuck, baby. I need you on top of me.”

“Gladly.”

Carmy rolled onto his back, yanking his shorts down, and you smiled at the sight of him – as desperate as you were with his chest heaving and his wet curls falling onto his forehead. Your walls clenched in anticipation as you hiked the hem of the dress over your hips. Carmy’s hands settled on your thighs and he watched hungrily as you held the base of his cock and slowly lowered yourself onto him. Your spine convulsed and the sensation of him stretching you and filling you wiped out every lingering thought in your mind.

“God,” his voice was strangled, “you feel so fucking amazing.”

You cupped his face, resting your forehead on his as you rode him, and said, “so do you.”

“I love you so much,” Carmy said reverently, “so goddamn much.”

Your heart threatened to break and regrow the from sheer tenderness of his words. Carmy, you learned over the years, expressed his love with acts of service and he said ‘I love you’ most often while having sex. However, something about this ‘I love you’ was different. It was more intense on your post-wedding night. You buried your face into his sweaty neck, your bodies and hearts joined, your futures intrinsically linked.

“I love you too.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You tilted the watering can over the thriving basil plant and smiled.

“Auntie.” Sophia, freshly eight years old, held something in her hands. “I found a worm.”

You blinked at her. “Put it back?”

“Okay!” She replied cheerily and dropped the worm back into the potted rosemary. She spun when the balcony door slid open. “Hi Uncle Carmy! Do you want to see the worm?” She pointed.

Carmy smiled, first at his niece, and then at you. “Let me see,” he said, crouching. He balanced his wrists on his knees and the sunlight gleamed off his wedding band. Your heart skipped. My husband. You wondered what your grandfather would say if you could tell him that his death led you to your soulmate, a second family, and a range of new friends. Knowing him he’d tell me that he would’ve died sooner if he knew how happy it’d make me. Your grandfather had had a wry sense of humor.

Carmy stood and put his arm around you. “We’re going to need to re-pot the basil if it keeps growing like this,” he said absentmindedly.

You leaned into him and kissed his cheek.

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