#that editing the pearls was an ABSOLUTE PAIN!!

[abibliophobiaa]

Hii hope you're having a lovely day

Can I get a forced proximity,fake dating smut with Eddie Munson and the phrase "come on I won't bite, unless you're into that"

this was such a fun prompt! below is 4k of eddie and r just being adorable as hell. warnings: fluff; barely edited because i’m at work and die like bob in the docs; fem!reader; smut, so 18+ minors dni.

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It was supposed to be simple: show up to your ex's wedding with a date, so that way your friends from college wouldn’t look at you with pitying gazes that clearly said, “Look at the poor, sad, tragically lonely girl.”

For the record, you were none of those things. And maybe it was a little dramatic to think that way. Also yeah, maybe you received those questions from time to time—asked innocently enough, usually—when you planned on settling down, but what if you never wanted to?

But pretending, at the time, to be in a relationship seemed easier than avoiding all of those questioning stares and probing comments.

It had been Max’s idea, actually; you’d been helping tutor her for a college math test when she noticed the invitation on the fridge and you’d laughed about how it was your ex and you still frequented the same friend group, which meant being invited to his wedding was an absolute. You murmured to her in confidence that you really weren’t excited about going; mentioned you were the only one in your college friend group who hadn’t been married off yet or popped out a kid (you shuddered to think of either of the two).

“Why not bring a fake boyfriend or something?” She asked. It seemed so…silly at first. You’d arched a brow in her direction and chuckled to yourself, the tip of your pencil tapping against her loose leaf notebook absentmindedly. At your confusion, she proceeded, “You know? Ask Steve or Argyle…Eddie.”

“Don’t say Eddie like that,” you grumbled, chewing at the eraser tip.

The redhead flicked one of her braids over her shoulder, shrugging. “Don’t say Eddie like what?”

“How you did just now! You didn’t just say Eddie,” you explained, dropping your pencil down onto the paper. “You said Eddie. Like you’re insinuating something.”

“Yeah, like the big freaking crush you’ve had on him since you two were in high school together—”

“Your answer to number five is wrong.”

Max snorted. And that was that.

Luckily, Eddie’s amicable as he always is. When you suggest coming as your date, he’s quick to ask for times to pick you up and requesting the attire for the event. It’s an evening wedding, and he shows up in a dark suit that matches the color of his hair. The same suit that now rests over the back of his chair, the sleeves of his shirt beneath rolled up to the elbow, revealing endless whirls of tattoos he’s collected over the years since he graduated high school.

He’s—well, Eddie on a normal day is breathtaking. All dark hair that falls in waves to his shoulders, broad smiles, dark eyes that can see through your soul. Charming as hell, and just as charismatic. He’s the kind of person that brightens every room he walks into and graces with his presence.

Eddie at a wedding?

You’re practically heaving into your champagne glass with how disturbingly—and unfairly—handsome he looks, but he can’t know that, so you play it off that you’ve danced one too many songs and need a moment to collect yourself.

“Think the plan is working?” He muses, leaning over to sip at your glass. “Think we’ve fooled enough people so grandma over there can stop clutching her pearls asking if you’ve accepted your spinsterhood?”

Honestly, the whole fake dating thing isn’t as bad as you initially thought. Eddie’s been ever the gentleman, holding open doors, holding your hand, holding the side of your hip. It’s great for the optical illusion you’re trying to portray, but it’s terrible for the ever painful kick-thump throb of your heart in your chest.

“Why? You wanna get out of here?” You likely can. You’ve stayed for the ceremony, most of dinner. You’ve even danced with Eddie a bit on the dance floor, introduced him to a few of your college friends, let him press a kiss to your cheek during the ‘couple’s dance’ after he’d suggested you try on the lips and you nearly broke an ankle, tripping up in your movements from the mere suggestion of doing something so insane. “We could always head back to the hotel room?”

Oh—and therein lay the other problem aside from your cardiovascular symptoms as a direct result of Eddie’s proximity: the hotel reservation somehow got all mixed up and you only afforded yourselves one bed.

One.

Singular.

Eddie had reassured the front desk employee that it was no issue, but you’d slapped your card onto the countertop and asked—admittedly pleaded—if they could check again for another room. It was with pitying gazes that they advised, because of the wedding, all the other available rooms were full. Which left you and Eddie with a king size bed for the night.

“It’s fine,” Eddie had teased, tossing pillows down the center of the bed after both tossed all of your things onto the floor. “Here’s our bundling board. You better not try to jump my bones in my sleep now.”

The thought itself has your thighs sliding together, mind swimming as your friend’s ring clad fingers trail against your forearm, drawing you back to reality. You turn with a ‘huh,’ your eyes meeting his as he says, “I’m fine with that if y—”

You’re interrupted by the sound of Clarissa, your ex’s new bride, calling your name from another table away. You’ve been friends with her for years, studied in the same program for your undergrad degree, and remained as such even after she came to you one day in the library and asked if it would be okay to date Jared. And it was; you’d been broken up for some months, anyway, after all. All adults who could handle weird circumstances.

Just like right now, as Jared joins his new bride’s side and extends a hand to greet Eddie. “Is this the guy that swept our friend here off her feet? Nice to meet you…”

“Eddie,” Eddie says, reaching over to grasp Jared’s hand and shake it. He’s just as charming when Clarissa leans down and urges you both forward in tight hugs, giggling brightly over how nice the two of you look and blushing when Eddie speaks again saying, “You look beautiful. Congrats, you two.”

“Congrats you two,” Clarissa practically trills, clapping excitedly. She mouths over Eddie’s shoulder, “He’s gorgeous.”

You can only pathetically shrug in agreement before Jared’s asking how the two of you met and Eddie tugs you so close to him you’re practically sitting on his lap. Your hand manages to grip his thigh to steady yourself when your chair wobbles, and his palm swallows yours upon doing so. He lifts it up to his mouth to brush a gentle kiss against the back of it. Your skin bursts to life with a thousand bubbles dancing along your skin, though you chalk it up to the champagne buzzing in your system.

Heat coils again as he turns to look at you, brown eyes fathomless as he says, “Back in high school. She walked into first period math class and she waved at me and I knew it was all over after that. But we only recently realized we wanted to be more than friends; figured it was about time to take a chance. Best choice I’ve made in a long time, really. Now we’re inseparable. Unbreakable. Insatiable—”

You elbow him slightly, cutting his words off. “Insatiable, Ed?”

Clarissa and Jared are none the wiser. The both of them only lean into one another, Clarissa glowing with her bridal beauty and Jared looking like he’s fallen in love with her all over again as Eddie regales them with your fake relationship origin story.

“Can you act like you actually like me?” He grumbles near your temple, that palm curling around your hip again to draw you even closer. Heat coils in your belly once more as that mouth drops lower, hot breath fanning along the shell of your ear, his voice a husk of, “Relax. I won’t bite…unless you’re into that.”

So, maybe you can’t swallow the breathy sigh that punches its way up your throat. And maybe your thighs clench beneath the table. But they’re all mere side effects to the man hypnotizing everyone around him with his charm, casualties of the battle waging war behind your ribcage. Even so, the damage is done; the carnage remaining in the wake of your inner turmoil is evident in the slow curl of his lips, the proud smirk lining those presently devilish features.

He’s thoroughly enjoying himself—enjoying the effects his presence has on you, even under the guise of pretending you’re something you’re not. So if your eyes roll in your skull when he leans down and presses a barely-there kiss beneath your ear, it’s only because he’s really wonderful at the elaborate facade you’ve both concocted.

It’s only because, over the years of being DM, he’s perfected the art of performance.

It’s that and nothing more.

Call the casual touches and flirting throughout the night side effects of a few glasses of champagne and loosened inhibitions. Call the glances across the dance floor nothing more than intrigue and longing for a ‘what if?’ Call the brush of his fingers against your skin, the press of lips, the hand on your hip nothing more than part of an act. Because that’s all it is.

Or so you think and have conditioned yourself to think.

But that tension lingers long after Clarissa and Jared wish you well. It lingers in the breaths filling the elevator on your way back to the room, it seeps into the pauses in your conversation. It grows and curls like a bowstring in your belly, drawn tight when Eddie slides the key into your hotel room door and pushes it open.

“If I didn’t know any better, Munson, I would have thought you were flirting with me earlier,” you hum, a casual laugh breaking into the otherwise quiet of your newfound privacy with the man, toeing off your heels near the door. “And the little speech about how we started ‘dating’ was really convincing. Either that or you should reconsider a career in acting.”

“What if I was, though?” His voice is soft. Softer than it’s been all night, a tremulous breath that makes your stomach clench. “Flirting with you, I mean.”

Before you, you can see two options laid out on a platter: you push into unknown territory, a world of possibility should you choose to open your heart to him; or, you brush his affection aside and preserve what you already have, not wishing to disrupt the balance of your life as you know it.

Eddie is friends with your friends.

You’re friends with his friends.

When lines become blurry, relationships are put at risk. Sides might need to be taken. There are other people involved outside of the two of you. But a louder thought rings true. An understanding that it’s Eddie. Eddie, who has only ever put your own needs above his. Always first. Wanted what was best for you at all times. Would it, then, be such a terrible thing to be selfish just this once?

“If you were…” you begin, stepping across the room to meet him where he stands. Your fingers trail up to his tie, the dark red material like blood sifting through your fingers, “did you mean it? The story too?”

“Since first period math class senior year—well, your senior year. My first senior year.” He chuckles uneasily, palm moving to slide over the span of his shoulder, easing at a knot. Watches you slide your fingers up along the fabric, moving up to help loosen the knot around his neck. You fumble with it for a moment, his breath spilling across your forehead, your bottom lip between your teeth when he rasps out, “Can I kiss you?”

And you’re nodding your head rapidly, gasping as his hand slides up to rest against the small of your back, guiding your frame closer to him. You practically ooze into his chest, bodies warm and humming with anticipation as he walks you backward over toward the bed and groans into your bottom lip presently pinched between his teeth as you tug at his tie and drag him into the cradle of your thighs down to where you lay in a sprawl of limbs against the mattress.

“Oh…” He pauses in his ministrations, breaking apart with a gasp despite your whines of protest to run a palm along the mattress. You flop down onto your back as the man presses the same palm against the topper, watching it shift and move beneath his weight. “Oh this is nice. Much better than my shitty one back home.”

“Eddie…” His head jolts back your way, as if he remembers you’re lying beneath him, waiting for him to help you out of your dress, and drops a kiss down against the curve of your neck. You hum to yourself and grasp his chin, dragging his mouth near to yours. He brushes your lips once, twice, and you tell him, panting, “I really like you, Eddie.”

He sighs as your hands finally help free the tie from around his neck and you toss the fabric into the far corner of the room, fingers dropping down to start working on the line of buttons down his chest inch by inch until you’re met with dark ink and a trail of hair against the bump of his stomach that disappears into his waistband and has you leaning forward to press a kiss to his exposed sternum. Beneath you can feel the rapid thrum of his heart, can taste the salt on his skin, flesh still warm from all your dancing in the wedding hall.

He’s climbing over to the top of the bed, bringing you with him, and rearranging the two of you so you can lay side by side. One of his palms starts a gentle slide up your back to grasp at the zipper pulled all the way to your neckline. His eyes implore yours briefly, a gentle exchange with no words, and your head dips. The sound of the metal dragging down your spine reaches your ears, fabric soon pooling around your ankle before he’s tossing it over onto the far corner of his room with the rest of both your clothes.

You take a moment to look at one another. Eyes roving across skin, fingers following in their wake. He trails his fingers along your shoulder, down the path of your sternum, swirls a circle around the soft skin of your abdomen until your sides shake with laughter. You watch those exhausted eyes of his trail along the curve of your hip, the bend of your knee, the crux between your thighs. Nearly gasp into his collar bone when he hikes a thigh over his hip and draws you in for another kiss, and you can feel the hot press of him briefly—albeit too briefly—against your center.

Those kisses, burning with a fresh fervor, draw breathless sighs from your lips. His words against your skin, telling you how beautiful you are, how he’s wanted this moment, how he wants to watch you fall apart against his fingers when he asks if he can touch you have you mewling with want, shuddering at the first brush of his fingers through your slick, warm and welcome between your thighs.

But it’s in that languid exploration that the two of you start to slow down, champagne bubbles that still linger in both your bellies making your eyes more and more tired with each passing moment, fingers becoming gentler, lingering longer. He sighs when you lean over to brush a kiss against his throat and suck, but it settles in the air and you can’t help the airy giggle that spills from your lips when one of his hands waves lackadaisical in the air as you ask, “Falling asleep on me, Munson?”

“No—no,” he groans. He presses a gentle kiss to your throat, and feels your pulse skitter beneath your skin. “Jus’ g’me a second. Wanna make you feel good.”

It’s a shame, a sin really, how even in his tired, partially blissed out state, Eddie Munson still has the power to make your insides liquify. Especially when those eyes start to flutter as he tries to focus his attention on you, lashes lingering longer and longer against the tops of his cheekbones in his efforts to stay awake.

With one last press of your mouth against his, you slide off the bed and help yank down the comforter enough so he can crawl inside, sleepy sighs spilling from his tattooed chest. Satisfied, you clamber in beside him and smile to yourself as that same chest aligns against your spine, arm looping low around your waist, and you both drift into a slumber.

It’s early when you wake again. Sunlight starts to filter in through the windows, the clock to your left reading seven in the morning. Luckily, it’s a Saturday and your check out time isn’t until eleven, which means more than enough room to shower and get ready to head back home to Hawkins. You’re about to clamber out of bed when you feel Eddie’s hand against your stomach shift. Butterflies burst to life at the gentle caress of his skin against yours, fluttering away only seconds later when the man in question grumbles, “Oh shit. Oh shit, sweetheart. I fell asleep.”

“You did,” you giggle, your calf brushing along the hairs lining his own. He groans, face pressing between your shoulder blade, hips flush against your ass and you continue, “It’s okay, though. You were tired.”

“We were…and I was…shit.” He huffs against your skin, hooking his chin over your shoulder to then brush a kiss against the plushness of your cheek. Then once more in that space beneath your ear that has you shuddering against him.

He starts a slow path along the side of your neck, laving kiss after kiss into your flesh, trailing down your shoulder. He starts to mark his way back upward, igniting every inch of you with a fresh fire when you gasp out, “We, ahh—mmm—still have a few hours before we need to leave.”

For emphasis, to really drive home your wishes in the moment, you slide your thigh up and over his, your hips moving backward to press needily against where you know he’s hard already. Those talented hands of his that strum along his guitar at the countless Corroded Coffin shows you’ve been to begin to work a slow path up your thigh, calluses tantalizing against skin. You push back harder against him, feeling his returning roll of hips against your ass, seeking out friction, craving release. But you have all morning.

You have time for the gentle slide of his fingers down the front waistband of your panties, the whine you release as his middle finger parts your center from entrance to clit, drawing out three slow circles that have you nearly begging him to fuck you right then and there. Still, he’s patient. Takes his time stroking against your center, listening as you coach him through what feels good, telling him to speed up, slow down. His other hand, not occupied with drawing out your pleasure, grips yours and slides it against the pillow nearest your head, a chuckle spilling from his lips when your head turns and you whimper into your pillow, asking him for what you need.

“What did you just say, sweetheart?” He murmurs against your bare shoulder, hissing when your hips push back into his hardened cock. “Tell me what you want.”

“Mmm—” He slides a finger inside you, drawing a slow circle, opening you around the digit before adding another. He repeats the question, low and sensuous in your ear, a purr that has your eyes pinching shut. “Want you inside me, Ed. Want you, want—”

Those fingers at your center slip from you, your chest heaving as he reaches over onto the nightstand nearest to his side of the bed and fishes out a blessed foil packet. You hear him hastily tear it open, the bed shifting and dipping in his efforts, before he’s pressing his chest back along your spine and hiking your thigh up and over his. The hand previously holding yours against the pillow above you slides back into your own, and your vision blurs out around the edges as he pushes your panties aside and drags himself through your folds from behind, catching on your clit, before slipping inside.

Your mingling hisses at the initial stretch of him turn into quiet moans as he starts to pick up his pace. He pastes sticky kiss after sticky kiss into your shoulder as that hand of his moves around to slide against your throat, shifting your head up and away from the pillow you’ve buried it within. Your eyes meet his, and between the constant roll of his hips as he moves within you, the fingers splaying across your neck, and the words he babbles into your lips about how tight you are, how good you feel, how you’re doing so good for him, it all quickly become too much.

He catches the flicker across your features, the way your sounds pick up in frequency, the rasp of your breath through your lungs. Against your lips he mutters, “Come on, sweetheart. Touch yourself for me, okay? Wanna watch you.”

And you’re quick to do as your told, palm sliding down your stomach until two fingers meet your clit, rubbing in the way you know you like, matching the frantic pace of Eddie’s hips, pulling back and then slamming into you again and again, driving you closer and closer to utter bliss.

“Oh—fuck—I’m so close, baby.” His fingers around your neck tighten, lips pressing against the corner of yours as you work yourself in tandem with him, the sound of skin slapping together muffling the cries spilling through your parted lips. “Tell me you’re close.”

You come before him, nails pressing down to etch crescents into the hand holding yours above your head, murmuring his name over and over again like a prayer as his lips claim yours once more and swallow the moan he lets out as his body jerks a few times and then stills behind you, shallow breaths puffing hot and frantic into your kiss.

When you both finally catch your breath, and you roll over and turn into him, he pulls you close to his chest and grins into your shoulder, asking, “What are you doing next weekend?”

And it’s that next weekend, at Jonathan and Nancy’s wedding, that you go as a real couple this time.

You don’t even give Max and Lucas shit for giving you a thumbs up when they think Eddie isn’t looking.

-

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(protect myself from readmore)

[xo-arcie]

pleasures

jjk men headcanons x gender nuetral reader

author's note: I am just reviewing (perpetually editing) and reposting my stories from my main blog. Enjoy! word count: 1.7+ warnings: Sukuna is in this, so dubcon, edging, mentions of domplay, overstimulation, implied unprotected sex and oral sex

He would be a considerate top but only if he was smitten, committed and totally in love with you. He would be conscientious of your every response and reaction, the kind of man that would palm your scalp for the delicious pull of your hair at the roots, tilting your head back so you can look up at him while he other hand cups your chin; your attention would be rapt with how he towers over you. 

You would squirm under his heady gaze, your desperation to be filled by him vibrating off of your skin, but Kento would never rush his intimacy with you. He would be slow, gentle to pluck each thread until you completely unraveled beneath him, until you were soft and pliable, boneless and begging for all of him.

Kento would just relish in the mess he made of you, touching your cheek again with a low hum as he thumb wiped away the tear tracks streaking your cheeks. 

Even with you mewling for more, he would still restrain himself. He would want to savor you, attuned to every soft sound spilling from your swollen lips. And when you feel you cannot take any more, only then would he melt into you, sinking slowly with soft kisses that would litter every inch of your bare skin. 

You would burn from his rasped, whispered words of encouragement. “Yes, just like that. You are doing so well for me. Did you need to use our safeword?” 

But you never would. 

However, salaryman Kento would be an absolute dom, a man haunted who fell into the monotonous motion of the corporate world after he left Jujutsu High. The menial office tasks could never wipe away the horrors he knows exist, and that eventually that darkness will consume again, searing to the surface and vying for control. 

That is when he would visit the bar close by to his office. His eyes would burn to find someone wanting the same thing as him: to fuck senseless until you forget, even if just for a moment. He would be desperate for a sense of control again, and you would always be willing to help.

He would still offer a safeword, and you would still never use it. 

Suguru would be a switch because your pleasure is his pleasure. Whenever you want to take command, he is happy to lay back with a trust that he pours into you, that empowers you, and it makes you want to shower him with love and affection in return. 

He does not say a lot, but he still makes sure you are adamantly aware that he is enjoying himself. You can see that in the rose tones that flush his features with your sensual ministrations, plumes of color from the love bites you decorate his chest and abdomen with. You preen under his gaze when that lustful black swallows the amethyst of his eyes. 

He can be vocal in other ways: low hums and groans when your tongue slides up the underside of his heavy cock, his bated breath building until his climax spills–a thick pulse of pearly spend, hot and sticky on your palms. Suguru would arche into that painful pleasure of you cleaning him up, your tongue continuing to swirl his tip, suckling until he finally cries out. 

But as much as he enjoys himself, he definitely loves when you allow him complete control. 

Suguru would tuck himself between your thighs, his large hands curling to anchor you against him while his mouth pulls a relentless euphoria you never knew existed before him. He would not stop though, but would continue until you were brimming on overstimulation, tears pearling and spilling from your eyes. 

That would have him pause so he could kiss them away, but then he would manhandle you again, his fingers dimpling into your skin with a searing touch that would spark throughout your body, kindling a warmth in your core as he moved to meld himself against you. 

Even with his preparation, despite how careful he is to ease himself into you, he still has a girth and thickness that nearly cleaves you in half. You cannot help how you clench around him, your warmth enveloping him with your sinful shudder. 

He would take his time with the slow roll of his hips until your fingers are clawing at his shoulders, pulling him in for another kiss that he would return with a passion that flutters to your nerve endings. His pace would quicken and it would not take you long to build towards the prior pleasure, his thrusts pushing you back over that precipice of passion. Your thighs would knot around his slender waist to help balance the stutter of his hips as Suguru spilled into you with a low exhale, another kiss before he curled against you. 

Hook-ups and flings would not really be something that interests him. It would get the job done, but he always needed more of an emotional connection to spark any sexual attraction. 

And you would satiate that, giving him so much more.

Satoru is more of a pillow princess and it would amplify whenever he found himself in a situationship with a “casual” label. The man has had a lifetime of people falling into his ocean-blue eyes, easily swept away by the mischief that sparkles in them–and you are no different hussy.

He is content to laze on his back, his hands tucked to support his neck, his stark white hair a mess and his bedroom eyes prickling over your skin. He enjoys the view the most in this position, able to see the intimate hues that flush beneath your skin, listening to your sounds made whenever he decides to languidly thrust upwards, his hips meeting with yours until you see the stars. When he knows you’re close, he’ll offer a helping hand for you to finish, but it is because he loves the way your warmth clenches around him, pulling him towards his own peak. 

If you can successfully navigate the maze of emotions, if he becomes more invested, you would notice it only with the intimacy shared. In public, he would remain as zany as ever, his lackadaisical persona placed as a shield, but that is because the vulnerability to admit that he needs you leaves him feeling raw. 

But when it is the two of you, he takes his time savoring every inch of your skin, learning what it is that you like and taking note of what you don’t. He would still use his teleport technique to switch positions he is lazy, but as dizzying as it can be, his touch would ground you, the slow roll of his hips bringing you back towards that promised pleasure and even further. 

His tenderness would continue in your post-coital haze, a mutual comfort shared. You love how his long and lithe body curls to mold against you, and he relishes in how well you fit together. Satoru enjoys lying there, the thrum of your heart beneath your cooling skin, while his fingertips trace, his six eyes rapt to watch the goosebumps ripple in the wake of his touch. 

You are wrapped in his warmth, and you can feel his gaze, but you keep your eyes close and pretend to be asleep. 

And he knows this, but he never minds it.

You are solely a fuckhole for him at first, and he will dominate whatever he deems available for his own pleasure. 

But Sukuna would still pull you along. “I don’t like getting off on my own,” will be his excuse when he would come up from behind, his arms wrapping around your torso with his vice-hold, pulling you against his chest and his teeth sinking your shoulder. 

He loves to mark you, admiring his bruising bites that decorate your body afterwards. 

You hate yourself for it, but you are already burning from his heat, his proximity, and your body always responds to him: you nerve endings alight with his rough touch, pressing backwards for friction. 

His dark chuckle rumbles through you before he pushes you into the bed, enjoying how malleable, how willing you become with his commanding touch. You clench when he thrusts deep to fill you, your mewling symphony giving a rhythm to the brutal pace of his hips.

If he decides to keep you, and even though he swears his pleasure is the only priority, you find he will take his time to coax your body to handle him better. Simple, almost gentle gestures: a hand resting on top of your head while the other bites into your jaw to go slack, easing himself inch-by-inch into your mouth. 

Your tongue flattens to taste, to follow every ridge and vein–your strangled moans to fit him before your hand wraps around the base of his cock, fingers barely touching and your jaw aching open. His hand will follow the to cradle the back of your neck with a slow buck of his hips to fuck your throat. You gag, your nails biting into his thick thighs to balance, tears pearling, but you won’t pull away. 

You are desperate for him and he knows this. A cruel smile curls across his mouth as he watches you, his continued thrusts that bruises the back of your throat, spit dribbling down your chin and onto your chest. You choke when he goes too deep and it vibrates through him; Sukuna hisses through clenched teeth, and only then does he pull back to flip you over. 

He pushes your face into the mattress, burying his length into you. Your hands claw at the sheets and his bruise into your waist, pulling your ass back to meet with his hips. He fucks you hard into the bed, splitting you open, his each thrust sparking something deep and primal within you. 

You come with the same white-hot rapture that fractures through your body, boiling the marrow of your bones. Your mouth falls open with a silent scream, a sobbed release that shudders violently throughout you. 

You lay there for a while, waiting for your blood to flow again, edging back through your depleted veins, and the air soothing your lungs. You jolt when you feel his hand wrapping around your ankle, pulling you back towards the edge of the bed. 

Sakuna gives another throaty chuckle. “Our night has only just begun, pet.”

arcie's navigation // jujutsu kaisen masterlist

[persephone1700]

Oops!... I did it again- Michael Gavey x Reader

Hello again:)

Here's part 2 out of three of Michael Gavey x Reader.

I wanted to incorporate more the dynamic between reader and Felix cause it will be important for the final part, just to add some drama.

Also how Michael lurks in the shadows silently watching 👀 I feel like his character will absolutely be obsessed with your every move and would absolutely be replaying every situation fearing for the worst.

Remember to be kind, English it's not my first language and these are definitely my first fics ever written so excuse any grammatical errors

Special mention to @anukulee

This is a short one with some smut. Final part (3/3) will be dirtier so I kept this light…

In case you are wondering I was listening to Britney Spears Oops! I did it again when i was editing this out, and definitely changed the title I had drafted, just because Michael would absolutely believe reader is playing him out. Listen to it afterwards, a massive hit!

Do enjoy!

Warning Tags: 18+ Only, Smut, Oral Sex (Male receiving), Stalking, Obsessive, Jealousy, Pessimistic, Embarrassing, Hatred.

Part 1

He thought it would be more painful, the embarrassment he would feel if he came in his boxers at the simple sight of her moaning while he ate her up, so he tried to focus solely on her. 

He failed.

You started breathing heavily at the way his fingers slithered inside you and his tongue moved against your pearl. Fueled with pleasure, your back arched, and your fingers tightened their grip on his hair, pulling him closer. His touch was electric, and your eyes opened, locking your gaze with him. 

Then he lost it…

His cock started throbbing against his boxers, seizing as he came undone at the sight of you. He moved back, and in a hurry, he got up, turning around in fear you might see the stain in his beige pants, clearly showing his lack of self-control.

His sudden move made you curious, so you stood up and made your way over to him. When you noticed what had happened, a smirk appeared on your face. His cheeks grew red with embarrassment; he thought you would make fun of him, but to his surprise, you didn't.

"I... am sorry. I didn’t..." A plea came out of his mouth, trying to find a reasonable excuse.

 How could he even justify himself?

"It's okay. Why don't we switch places?" you asked, smiling as you started pushing him against the chair.

Michael swallowed hard as you pushed him gently but firmly onto the chair. His heart pounded in his chest, and he looked up at you with a mix of embarrassment and anticipation.

"It's okay, Michael" you repeated, your voice soft and soothing. "Just relax."

You knelt in front of him, your hands moving to his thighs. The way you touched him, with a mix of tenderness and urgency, sent shivers down his spine. You looked up at him, your eyes dark with desire, and he could hardly believe this was happening to him. 

Sweet baby Jesus...

Your fingers traced the outline of his erection through his pants, feeling the heat and hardness beneath the fabric. His breath hitched, and his hips involuntarily bucked towards your touch. You unbuttoned his pants, pulling them down along with his boxers, revealing his throbbing cock.

Michael's eyes widened, his face flushed with both arousal and nervousness. He watched as you wrapped your hand around him, your touch gentle and exploratory. He let out a low groan, the sound vibrating through him as you began to stroke him slowly.

"You feel so good," you whispered, leaning in closer. Your breath was warm against his skin, making him shiver. You kissed the tip of his cock, tasting his pre-cum, and his entire body tensed in response.

You took him into your mouth, your tongue swirling around the head before you slowly slid down, taking more of him in. Michael's hands clenched the arms of the chair, his knuckles turning white as he fought to control himself. 

The sensation of your mouth on him was almost too much to bear.

Your movements were slow and deliberate, your tongue and lips working together to drive him wild. His hips bucked again, and you placed a hand on his thigh to steady him, increasing your pace slightly.

The sounds that escaped his mouth—groans, gasps, and moans—filled the room, echoing off the walls of the private study room.

Michael's breath came in ragged gasps, and he could feel the pressure building on his stomach, the sensation of your mouth driving him closer and closer to the edge.

His hands found their way to your hair, tugging it , his fingers tangling in the strands as he held on for dear life.

"I-I'm close," he managed to gasp out, his voice strained.

You looked up at him, your eyes locking onto his, and he saw the desire and determination in your gaze. You obviously didn't stop and your movements turned more insistent, your mouth working him with an intensity that made his head spin.

Michael's entire body tensed, his muscles coiling as he felt himself teetering on the brink. With a final, desperate groan, he came, his release hitting hard and fast.

His hips jerked, and his hands tightened in your hair as he rode out the waves of pleasure, his body trembling with the force of it.

You continued to suck him through his climax, swallowing every drop, and only pulled back when he was completely spent.

Michael slumped back in the chair, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. He looked down at you, a mixture of awe and gratitude in his eyes. Your lips were slightly swollen, and you wiped the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand, smiling up at him.

"How was that?" you asked, your voice soft and teasing.

"It was... incredible," he admitted, his voice still shaky. "I can't believe... I, uh... I... thank you."

A soft snort left your mouth at his shy demeanor appearing once again. After everything you just did, he still couldn’t meet your eyes or speak without stuttering. Before you could say anything else, a knock on the door caught your attention.

"We are about to close!" a shout from outside. The librarian said. You and Michael stayed quiet and then heard him move away to the other part of the library to instruct the other students the same thing.

Laughter erupted from your chest at the thought of almost being caught red-handed. You stood up and quickly fixed your clothes before moving towards the table and gathering your things.

"See you later, nerd." You leaned over to where Michael was sitting and placed a quick kiss on his cheek, smiling.

As you made your way out of the study room, Michael fixed his clothes quickly with trembling hands, trying to regain his breath.

"Son? Did you hear me? We are closing in 5 minutes."

He looked over to where the librarian was standing, his cheeks fully red. He grabbed his things and made his way out, placing his things over his pants so his situation would not betray him.

Michael could not stop thinking about you for the whole weekend, his mind drifting back to you. As his hand slid down his boxers, he closed his eyes and replayed the scene in his mind over and over again.

When Monday arrived, the classes you shared together became unbearable.

His desire for you had only grown. 

Every time he closed his eyes and his mind drifted away, he found himself thinking about you. Replaying every sound and squirm you made when he was between your legs, the sweet taste on his lips...

After tasting you, he only wanted more. 

A week had started to gone by, and you had only spared him your usual glances and smiles, but he wanted and yearned for more than just that. 

He spent most of the classes you shared together just looking at you and studying your reactions, searching for any hint that you were going to talk with him.

It pained him that you didn’t pay him the attention he demanded of you, the attention he thought you would give him after having you on your knees for him.

You had continued with your life the same way it was before, with your stupid friends, and it was driving him insane as he watched your interactions with Felix.

There was something about Felix that got under his skin—his easy confidence, the way he seemed to effortlessly command attention, and the undeniable chemistry between the two of you.

Why did he care so much?

When Thursday arrived, he was too desperate, almost going insane as his mind swirled around with all kinds of theories. He decided to settle it and walked over to the dorm room he knew you had, his heart pounding on his chest playing on his head all the ways that this conversation could go.

As he arrived at his destination, the sound of laughter reached his ears. He noticed Farleigh, Annabeth, Venetia, and some other students sitting on the grass smoking and talking about something surely stupid.

Your window, just above their heads, had the curtains open and the lights turned on, and he immediately noticed that Felix and you were in your room. You two seemed to be arguing about something.

Yes. Yes. She’s finally drifting away from him. She has finally realized what a tosser he is.

But of course, he was wrong. 

His illusion shattered as soon as it came when he noticed how Felix laughed bitterly at something you said, and how he moved closer to you, his hands cupping your chin and kissing you.

His face went pale, as he walked away in a hurry. Too afraid that someone had seen him spying on you.

in truth he wasn't spying. He clearly never intended to see that. Gods what would give to erase that image now, how you were between Felix's arms as he crushed his lips against yours.

As he sprinted away, his thoughts spiraled into chaos. He decided that all this time, the fool had been him and all his thoughts and theories became a reality.

You had used him. 

How could he have been so stupid?

It was all a cruel joke.

Each self-deprecating thought struck like a dagger, cutting deeper and deeper.

Yes, you had probably used him to make fun of him with all your stupid friends, gloating about what you did, laughing about his embarrassing sex life and how touch-deprived he was.

Vapid cunts.

The humiliation cut deeply, gnawing at his insides like a relentless beast.

He decided he must avoid you at all costs.

But for him, avoiding you proved impossible....

[moon1ee]

there is something to be said about jimmy’s death. something to be said about a curse looming over his head that they keep mentioning, as if repetition will dull the pain, will cause the bleeding wound to scab over and form calluses. something to be said about bdubs throwing himself forward, shouting “KILL ME”, something about joel trying to sacrifice himself. the love was there. so was the fear. the canary sings a warning. then comes the bloodshed.

grian watches joel out of the corner of his eye, taking slow steps over the ramshackle bridge that looks over the server. joel sprints ahead, careless, movements strange and distorted, body tensed, fingers curling. the setting sun flashes red back into his eyes. a bloodied reflection. he is being reckless. he is going crazy. grian remembers last life, remembers passing through and hearing joel’s ear-spitting screaming, remembers cracking open a laugh as bloodlust that should not exist under stained green thrums through him. HOW ARE YOU DOING, JOEL, he called, and there is a snarl in response. “going a bit mad, going a bit MENTAL.”

joel was, in a word. dedicated. the best of them. the worst of them. grian remembers a pack of wolves, remembers fingers curling into pale fur, remembers agonized cries as the dogs fell.

he cannot ignore the similarities. run, rabbit, run.

he makes plans, he plots. he feels the time tick down. sends down explosives. one takes out four. he laughs, ear-splitting, thinks, i’m learning.

four. five. six. seven. he loses count. he doesn't stop.

joel’s teeth keep flashing.

grian sneaks down, around, ducks his head, whispers allyship to bigb and pearl, feels eyes humming around them.

he will not stop planning. he needs allies, in a place like this, after he loses his.

joel, he says, just kill me. the man glances at him, once, does not respond.

into battle they go. smoke rises in his lungs. scar, grinning, scar, falling, scar, protesting not to kill his beloved animal.

grian sees a creeper sneak up behind him, almost hisses a warning, stops himself. waits. watches. scar turns his head, jumps back, laughing. he has learned, too.

joel’s time is running out. grian runs after him.

joel is being reckless. he goes after scar. JOEL JUST KILL ME, grian shouts. "NO, NOT YOU," joel screams. "I'LL KILL HIM INSTEAD."

grian remembers a hand that stayed ever dedicated to the coming winter.

DO IT, and joel splits him, and then someone else, and then dies, the absolute fucking idiot, and they are. back where they started. or maybe right where they will end.

joel looks rabid in the moonlight. grian makes plans for when he is gone.

joel, just take one of my lives. just do it. "no," joel says, turning around, eyes searching frantically for something, for butter yellow canary wings that do not fill the space any longer, hands reaching to claw around grian's wrists, nails stinging, drawing blood. "you have to win," he says, pleads, begs, "for us. you have to."

grian says nothing.

joel is being reckless. he runs ahead. “scar-“ grian swallows down the name, frantic at the flash of red rushing off without him. JOEL.

lightning, singing his back. he turns. silent. shocked. remembers a hand’s agonized scream. remembers an attempt at revenge that ended him.

the bad boys were never that army of dogs in renchanting, were never loyal enough for it. too brittle, too untrusting, even jimmy. especially jimmy.

there is a tombstone. grian does not grieve. his sorrow is short-lived. he has a new alliance now, new loyalties. ones that may be smarter. it is for the best.

tick tick tick.

his wrists still ache.

edit: cross-posted on ao3!

[celtigxr]

𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊 is with your 𝖇𝖗𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 18+, MDNI PAIRING: Fem!Aegon x Aemond, established relationship, targcest

Story summary: In an alternative timeline, set during the events of 1.08 (Lord of the Tides). What would the story look like had Aegon been born a woman, and Aemond was Alicent's heir? Well, as it turns out, Aegon is very much the same lecherous fool, but the difference is that the consequences are far more devastating, and Aemond is determined to remind his sister of her place in his life. Word count: 13,963 (not sorry) Cross Posted on Ao3

Credits: Title inspired by: Cry Little Sister by Gerard McMann (Lost Boys Theme), cover art and fem!aegon edits made by me. Dividers not by me, I can't seem to find the original poster anymore. Story tags: Slow Burn (suffer for your smut), enemies to lovers, hate that I love you, established relationship, targcest (siblings, uncle/niece), angst, unrequited feelings, toxic relationships, yearning, jealousy, mxf, fxf, brother x sister, uncle x niece, master x servant.

Content warnings: 18+, MDNI, smut, gender bent canon character, brief canon violence, angst, misogyny, slut shaming, targcest (brother/sister, uncle/niece), Aemond frequently calls her his sister, infidelity (everyone?), breastfeeding, creepy uncle behaviour, mention of underage 'fooling around', mentions of sex work and brothels, pregnancy mention, unwanted pregnancy, allusions to abortion (via moon tea!), post partum depression, withholding child from parent, labour pains and blood, abusive parent, verbal abuse, physical abuse (a slap), dubcon (power imbalance, and alcohol), toxic relationships, alcoholism, typical canon tw's. There are no good people here.

MOOD SPOILERS BELOW

P+V, sexual tension, breeding kink, cream pie, lactation kink, ass worship, breast worship, targcest, fingering, pussy grabbing, hickeys, degradation, allusions to anal, rough sex, hair grabbing/pulling, bending her around like a pretzel, oral (f receiving), over stimulation, orgasm repression, bit of spanking, edging, man handling, rimming with finger, clothes ripping, mirror sex, various positions.

“Get up,” Alicent’s sharp voice cut through her eldest child’s peaceful slumber like an executioner’s axe. Though her daughter did not move, did not show a moment of acknowledgement of her presence. “Aenys!”

Again, no response. This, of course, successfully pushed Alicent to the point of frustration. The Queen ripped off the sheets that covered her daughter, displaying her nude form to the room. That was when Aenys finally stirred, her eyes covered by a curtain of dishevelled white-gold hair. 

Aenys sighed, grabbing her sheets back to cover her body, then promptly rolled over, “Mother.... What is it?” Her voice was hoarse with sleep as she turned to snuggle back into her pillow.

“‘What is it? What is it, what is it?’ Is that all you can say for yourself?” Alicent leaned over the bed like a vulture ready to pick at a corpse. 

“Has something happened?” Aenys’ voice was muffled by her pillow, though her tone still successfully conveyed her disinterest. Her eyes were closed as she tried to chase back the dream she was having; she was naked on Sunfyre, flying while someone was pressed against her back, their hand cupping her mound and rubbing her pearl deliciously.

Alicent looked upon her incredulously and with barely contained fury. How could Alicent produce such a creature? Her own daughter, her first born, with beautiful violet eyes, bright white-blonde hair and the sweetest face. She was everything Alicent was not, and the Queen had absolutely no idea where she went wrong with her. 

“Ser Willis Fell,” The knight’s name was stressed through Alicent’s teeth. 

“Hm?”

“Ser Willis Fell, one of your father’s sworn guards,” Alicent stared at Aenys in disbelief. The Princess remained buried in her pillows. “Oh, for gods’ sake. Aenys, the Kingsguard that you coerced into breaking his vows.”

Aenys groaned in frustration, arching her back as she stretched out across her bed like a cat, “Oh, it was just harmless fun. He didn’t need much coercing either, he was very willing.” Aenys rubbed the butts of her palms into her eyes as she rolled onto her back, her shoulder length hair fanned around her in messy tendrils. 

Alicent gaped down at Aenys’ audacity, “Think of the shame you brought me. Think of the shame you bring to your husband, Aenys. Do you not realize how dangerous it is for you to fraternize with other men? You not only cuckold your husband, but you risk getting pregnant with a bastard!”

Aenys scoffed as she cracked open her eyes to blurrily glare up at her mother, her frustration growing with every passing second that she wasn’t allowed to sleep. “I am not some unseasoned mare, mother, I know how to prevent such accidents,” Aenys swung her legs over the side of the bed, the sheets bunching up around her waist while her breasts hung broadly displayed, littered with love marks from last night’s tryst. “Besides, what me and Ser Willis did, there was definitely no way we could have conceive—” 

Alicent slapped her hard across the face. The clap echoed in the bedchamber, shocking them both into a silence that deafened them. Aenys’ face was sharply turned away from her, her cheek stinging with her mother’s love, her eyes bleeding fresh salty tears. Alicent breathed heavily through her nose, staring daggers into her daughter’s profile. Only a flicker of regret passed by her brown doe eyes before it was quickly replaced with contempt. She bent down so she was at Aenys’ eye level. 

“You are no daughter of mine.”

“I’m sorry, my Princess, but he refused to latch. He’s been crying all morning,” Joy was bouncing the screaming baby up and down in her arms, trying to calm him down. Her large breast was exposed, showing that she had just recently tried another attempt at getting the babe to latch onto her. 

Aenys rubbed her furrowed brow as she approached the two of them, and then mutely picked up her son from the wetnurse’s arms. “That’s because he is the blood of the dragon,” she holds her son to her bosom as she walks over to an armchair and sits down, “And therefore has a refiner pallet. Isn’t that right, Aerys? My boy is an Arbor Red man.” 

Aenys cooed at her youngest son while she unlaced her bodice with her free hand and pulled her arm out of her dress so she could release her breast with ease. It did not take much for the babe to latch on, successfully silencing him. Aenys hummed contently at the sight, her hands moving along the crown of his silver-haired head, and then relaxed into her seat. 

Joy seemed utterly relieved as she tucked herself back into her dress. Her fingers went to massage her temples where her headache had taken root due to the hours of Aerys’ unrelenting screaming. “He misses you, my Princess,” the wetnurse said with a tender voice. “They both do.” 

Aenys swallowed thickly as she stared down at Aerys, her second child, the spare to her husband’s heir. He had only been born two months ago, yet it felt like years. Much like when she had given birth to her first, when the sex was identified as a boy, her son was swiftly taken away from her and into the breast of the wetnurse, Joy. When her first was born, Aenys had cried throughout the first night.On the second she marched through the corridors demanding to see her son; a trail of blood from her healing cervix following her angry strides. They only complied because she was making a scene, but she was never alone with him. Either her grandsire, mother, wetnurse or his father was present.

She wasn’t stupid. Nor was she deaf. Aenys could hear their whispers when they think she isn’t listening, or too drunk to pay attention. They do not see her as a fit mother, they think she’ll accidentally kill her children in some drunken escapade, or just from negligence or ignorance. When her eldest got older, when he started talking, she saw less and less of him. His father didn’t want Aenys to influence him. He needed his heir to be perfect; groomed to be the epitome of Targaryen excellence, something that Aenys was very much not.

As Joy went about the room to clean up, to change the sheets in Aerys’ crib, Aenys spent the entire time in silence. She just watched her son latching on her nipple, the sounds of his sighs and suckles sending a wave of calm throughout her body that felt inherently natural. His large purple eyes were starting to flutter close, exhausted after hours of being denied his right to his mother’s breast. Aenys’ finger grazed the apple of her son’s cheek, feeling the dampness of the tears he had shed. She couldn’t help but feel the sting of resentment towards her family; it was their fault that her babe was famished to the point of screaming. If they had simply let her be with him, to let him nurse off of her in the first place, it never would have happened.

The sound of the door handle turning snatched her attention. There was no knock, no announcement from a Kingsguard, it was just him walking in as if he were already king. 

Aemond’s eye landed on her instantly– Well, more specifically on her tit in their son’s mouth. Her milky white mound was decorated with fading bruises of love marks from her previous lover, evidence of her infidelity that he was well aware of anyway. The fact that she was having their son nurse from the same breast that another man was nursing from surely twenty-four hours ago made his gut churn with disgust. 

And yet… The sight of her nursing made his black heart thump uncomfortably. 

He sharply turned away from the sight, displaying the profile of his taut jaw where she could see the muscle of his cheek twitch from the strain.

“Where is Aegon?” He questioned sharply, his hand still on the door handle, conveying that he had no intention of lingering.

“I thought he was with you?” She raised an eyebrow at him, her hands holding onto Aerys a little more tightly as if he was going to snatch him away from her. 

“He is with Maester Orwyle, my Prince,” Joy is quick to answer before the two parents could fret over the whereabouts of their child. “He is learning his numbers today.”

 Aemond hums and is about to leave, but Aenys is quick to ask him what he needed him for. 

“It is time for him to learn how to use a sword,” Aemond’s answer doesn’t surprise Aenys in the least bit, but it does make her give him a look of incredulity. 

“Use a swor–? Aemond, he just turned six,” She shook her head at him.

“And? Six is a fine age to begin sparring,” he turned back to her, his eye trained to her face deliberately. “The earlier he begins, the more skilled of a warrior he will become when he is older.” 

Aenys rolled her eyes with a scoff, “Aemond, he is too small to lift up a training sword–.”

“How would you know what my son is capable of?” His words cut her deeply. It was a well placed shot straight to her chest that snapped her lips shut, but only for a moment. 

The creases between her brows deepened, “I am his mother.” 

Aemond nearly laughed at that, “You were his mother for nine months. A wetnurse for two weeks, and then a stranger for the rest. Do not presume to know what is best for my heir, Aenys. Not when you do not even know what is best for yourself.” 

Her husband and brother left absolutely no room for her to respond. Aemond dismissed himself with a flourish of his pin straight hair and a bang of the door. 

Aenys pulled Aerys tighter against her bosom, her head bowed over the crest of his warm scalp, and her eyes tightly shut. Fresh tears fall on the babe’s face, but they do not belong to him. 

The arrival of Princess Rhaenyra, Prince Daemon and their brood came with much noise. It was no friendly family reunion, but a necessary arrival to preserve their bastard sons’ inheritance. Vaemond Velaryon would be arriving soon to petition the line of succession to the Heir of Driftmark in the anticipation of Lord Corlys’ possible death. With King Viserys still abed, mind addled with milk of the poppy, and decomposing with every passing day, the petition would be presided by the Lord Hand and the Queen Regent. 

Aenys couldn’t care about anything less. She knew the weight of the petition; if Lucerys loses his inheritance, it would be due to his legitimacy, which would in turn put Jacaerys’ legitimacy into question. Which is ultimately what Alicent and Otto want, but that would not change Viserys’ line of succession. The crown will go to Rhaenyra upon the King’s death, and when Rhaenyra is Queen she could just simply legitimize her sons, or make her eldest son with Daemon her heir. It changed nothing, no matter how much Alicent, Otto, and Aemond delusion themselves into thinking that this petition would. 

She was three cups of wine in when her uncle found her laying on a lounger beneath the domed roof of a stone gazebo, nestled in the heart of the royal gardens. Aenys was watching in mild amusement as a plain pigeon attempted to do his courtship dance to a much fancier female. Her feathers were mostly white, not quite a dove, given the grey feathers around her neck and the beautiful iridescent sheen they held. She was not at all impressed by the male.

“Well, if it isn’t little Aenys,” Daemon’s monotonous drawl was enough to pull her attention away from her pigeons. Her uncle’s tall willowy figure blocked the sun that was peaking through the shrubs and trees, making him look like a shadow. She could still see him tilt his head at her, “Bit early to be that well into your cups, don’t you think? Particularly for a princess.” 

The smirk on his lip conveyed he cared less than what his statement implied. 

“Are you going to tattle on me, uncle?” She slurped her wine noisily, which made his smirk widen. 

He didn’t answer her, instead he descended into an armchair situated at the feet of her lounger. His long legs sprawled out in front of him, his large hands resting on the arms, and his plum purple eyes roamed the length of her legs like a predator sizing up its potential prey. 

“You’ve grown up since I last saw you.” 

“That’s because I was three the last time you saw me.”

His smirk transformed into a wolfish grin. Daemon paused to look around at their setting, to the empty parepets that loomed overhead, to the loggia on the second floor that faced the garden’s direction, to the pigeon who was still trying fruitlessly with his courting dance. When he was satisfied with what he saw, or rather what he didn’t see, he leaned on his knees towards her. 

“Do you want to get out of here?” 

Aenys raised her eyebrows for a moment before narrowing her eyes at him. However, there was an expression of ease and intrigue upon her features, “Where do you want to go?”

“I was thinking somewhere less polished. Less green.” 

A knowing and curly smirk dimpled her cheek, “Ah, the Lord of Flea Bottom wishes to return to his people. Fee ling sentimental for your own stomping grounds, uncle?”

That lecherous smirk barely wavered; if anything it amplified when his tongue flicked out to run along his bottom lip, “From what I’ve heard you have inherited and elevated the title in my absence. The Queen of Whores. Quite a step up from a lord.” 

At the mention of the title Aenys’ smirk flattened a bit and her eyes drifted away, “Hm, or a step down, some might say. Alas, I have not done my queenly duties these past few years.”

“Because you are married?” He asked this as if it isn’t a sufficient enough excuse. “From the rumours I hear, niece, that still does not deter you. I’ve noticed that my brother has one less White Cloak guarding him.”

“He broke his vows.”

“So did you.”

Aenys tapped her wine glass as she assessed Daemon, wondering what he was trying to achieve with this conversation. Taking a thoughtful sip, she tilted her head at him. 

“Are you suffering from bed death already, uncle?” Her question managed to enlist a bodily reaction from him. Daemon leaned back in his chair, his smirk flattening for a moment before returning the moment she continued. “Got bored with one niece and now trying to pursue the other?”

He chuckled at that, his hand running over his chin before resting it on his palm, his elbow placed on his knee. “Am I wrong to assume that you suffer the same affliction with your beloved husband?”

It was now his turn to pull a bodily reaction from Aenys. Her lips fell into a pout, and she shifted uncomfortably in her lounger; her left leg moved up as she shifted her bottom on the seat so she was sitting straighter, but in doing so her gown lifted just enough to expose her pale ankle. Daemon’s dark gaze found it in an instant. 

“I doubt my nephew meets your needs sufficiently, sweet niece,” his voice is a pur that makes the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. “I would have suspected a woman with your…appetites would have more children by now. But I’ve noticed the age gap between your sons. Is that by design, I wonder? A well placed lemon top, or a convenient cup of moon tea? I imagine you’ve learned all sorts of tricks from the brothels you frequented.”

Aenys had been pregnant in between her sons, yes, but the father was not Aemond, and was swiftly taken care of by moon tea and several excruciating hours of heavy bleeding and a pain that rivalled active labour. It took years after Aegon’s birth to even convince Aemond to try for a spare– and as soon as Aerys was conceived, her brother stopped acknowledging her.

When she didn’t answer, Daemon was undeterred as he continued, “Mayhaps we can help each other.” His hand reached out the short distance to her ankle, using one long finger to draw lines on her exposed joint before trailing up her calf, moving along the hem of her dress. “And…should there be any consequence from it… None would be the wiser.”

Aenys’ eyes observe his ministrations, not even denying to herself that it was causing her loins to stir with longing. Her sex hungered for attention, even if it was not that long ago that she had a courtier’s head nestled between her thighs. However, there was nothing like a good cock rutting in and out of her like she was a mare in heat. Even more so when it is so forbidden and taboo. Not that he being her uncle was– no, bizarrely in their world that was normal, if not expected. She was, afterall, married to her younger brother and sired two children with him. What made it taboo was that they were both married, and their spouses were silently competing for a seat on the throne.

But something whispered in the back of Aenys’ mind, which sounded a lot like a conscience. It was enough to make her feel a bit queasy at the prospect of stepping over the line between her and Daemon. Maybe it was because she was a mother now, maybe it was the berating she suffered from her mother last morning, maybe it was because she hadn’t enough wine to shut off that little voice in her head. Or maybe it was because she felt the looming presence of a foreboding character lurking in the shadows, his blazing eye burning a hole into the back of her head. 

Aenys was getting out of the bath when Aemond barged into her living quarters. The sound of the door shuddering at the force of his body caused her poor maidservant to startle, effectively dropping the towel she was trying to wrap around her mistress. 

“Seven Hells, Aemond,” Aenys quickly snatched up her towel and wrapped up her nudity before she could even clocked the look he was giving her. That one lingering look with his one haunted eye that drank up the sight of her rear like a famished beggar. But that look was quickly wiped away and replaced with his ever present facade of antipathy. “Knock, for Mother’s sake.”

“Why?” He bit the question as he strode further into the room. The maidservant immediately knew that she wasn’t wanted, and swiftly curtsied before sprinting out of the room and hastily closing the door behind her. “I am your lord and your husband, I am entitled to this room and everything in it, including you. Or have you forgotten that after all these years?”

The last time Aemond felt ‘entitled’ to her rooms was nearly a year ago when they conceived Aerys, and even then he approached her door like it was the gates to the hells. The hypocrisy of his statement made her blink rapidly around the room in disbelief.

Clutching the knot of the towel at her chest, she widened her stance in preparation for a verbal altercation. “No less than you have forgotten, husband. You haven’t darkened my doorstep for elven moons.”

He strode closer to her until all that remained between them was the cooling copper tub and the milky water that remained swirling around. It smelt like vanilla and lemon, with just a hint of mint leaves. An aroma that was very distinctively Aenys; one that he had come to loathe and crave like a bad habit that he was actively trying to detox from.

“And that gives you a right to do as you please? Your debauchery when we were younger was bad enough, Aenys, but now your lecherous behaviour has gotten out of hand.”

“Now? Now it’s gotten out of hand?” With one hand clutching the towel, the other waved around in exaggerated movements. “I was worse before we wed, Aemond. I have been trying to be good… But it’s never good enough, is it? Nothing I do is ever good enough.”

His hands braced the edge of the tub as he peered at her like she was speaking maddening nonsense, “This is you trying?”

“I have not set foot in Flea Bottom in years, have I not?”

“That changes absolutely nothing! You’ve just changed your hunting grounds, setting your sights on honourable guards, servants, and weak-willed courtiers like the succubus that you are.”

Aenys scoffed dismissively at this, “Oh, do not look down upon me as if you are any better, Aemond. At least I do not skulk in the dark when I commit my sins.”

“What in the Seven Hells are you talking about?”

“I am aware of your little visits to Madam Sylvi’s, Aemond,” Aenys crossed her arms over her chest, pressing the towel firmly against her aching breasts. “I would have found it sweet that you still lie with your first – might’ve even been flattered that it is the same whore that I bought for you as a name day present after all these years, but your shocking display of hypocrisy is offensive. I am not the only adulterer in this marriage, Aemond.”

Aemond stared at her with the full capacity of his fury. His shame for his indulgences in the arms of Madam Sylvi was enough of a burden for him to bear, but the fact that Aenys knew about it was something he could not accept. It would be one thing if it was his mother that had learned of it, but with Aenys, it was a different story. She led the entourage of his childhood tormentors, taking pleasure in emphasizing how little, dragonless and weak he was at the time. And now… Sylvi was his only weakness he allowed himself, and Aenys fucking knew about her. 

He rigidly straightened up and strode purposely around the tub, each step calculated and predatory. “I am your husband, Aenys, and therefore you are my property by law, not the other way around. What I do to seek out my pleasures is none of your fucking business.” He is towering over her now, crowding her space, making her step back until her thighs meet the edge of an accent table flushed against the wall. “But what you do, wife, is my business. You made vows to me, Aenys, in holy matrimony, to serve only me, your lord and husband!”

Having Aemond this close was making her knees weak, but Aenys wasn’t a simpering lap dog that rolled over in the presence of a larger one. 

“I did not ask for this, Aemond!” She shouted, her chin lifted in defiance. “I did not ask to be your wife! If there is anyone to blame for your predicament, it is mother, not me!”

“Believe me, sister,” He seethed through clenched teeth, his eye turned black by the vast void of his widened pupil. Aemond stretched his neck forward, leaning so was nose to nose with her. “I rue the day mother told me that you would be my wife. I would have never chosen such an unworthy woman for the title. It should have been Helaena. It should have always been Helaena.” 

Aenys’ nostrils flared at his words; each one was like a dagger sinking another inch deeper into her chest. The mention of Helaena sent a wave of insecurity through her gut, making her eyes sting and her nose to twitch. Helaena was the daughter that Alicent always wanted; delicate, kind, soft-hearted, beautiful in such an effortless way that she did not even need to wear extravagant gowns and bold jewelry for people to notice it. Alas the greatest sin Helaena had was being born second to Aenys. With her fragile mind, she was moved to Oldtown to live with Daeron, until a suitable betrothal is made for her. A decision that Alicent freely admits was a mistake, particularly to Aenys, when she reminds her eldest of how undeserving she was of the things freely given to her. Undeserving and unworthy. 

Unworthy. She was unworthy.

Unworthy of being a wife. 

Unworthy of being a mother. 

Unworthy of being a daughter. 

Unworthy of love. 

“If you hate me so much Aemond, then just leave me be,” Her lips twitched as she said this through clattering teeth and a taut jaw.

“I wish I could,” his voice came out a little softer than the tone he had used seconds before. But the softness quickly dissipated when he reached out and grabbed her face, his fingers sinking into her cheek possessively. “But your infidelity has shamed me enough, Aenys. The Realm already laughs in my fucking face over you cuckolding me at every turn. Thank the Seven that our sons look like me, because if there was even a whisper about their legitimacy, Aenys, my claim to the Throne would be just as weak as Rhaenyra’s. And it would be entirely your fault.”

Despite the grip he had on her face, she scoffed at him, a derisive little smirk split her cheek, “Do you still believe that you will be king, Aemond?” The question effectively made his eye flash fiercely. “Father had twenty-one years to name you heir, and he didn’t. He still steadfastly declares Rhaenyra his heir–” 

“Shut your whore mouth,” He pinched her face viciously, pulling it closer to him, making her body press against the lithe structure of his form. Aenys immediately reached up and clung to his elbows, but not entirely understanding if she did to push him off or pull him closer. 

“I am no whore, brother,” She twisted her face out of his grasp. “Whores get paid–”

Suddenly his other hand was on her again, but this time it was nestled between her thighs, cupping her mound harshly. Tendrils of electricity crawled along the surface of her skin, blooming from that centered point. The touch of his warm palm, pressing against her labia just above her pearl made her thighs quiver. The feel of the pad of his finger on her slit made her hips involuntarily buck into him. Her sex ached for his penetration, as evidenced by her slick essence dampening her curls. 

“No, you’re a curse. My curse,” his nostrils flared as his eye seared into her face, devouring every tremble of muscle he caused. He seeked to dig the knife deeper, to make her feel his hatred for her. To remind her of her place, to break her spirit. It was what she deserved for all that she did to him. He plunged and curled his fingers into her, causing her to gasp and arch her back into him. Aemond did not move his digit, just kept her there like a fish on a hook. 

“Aemond–” She put her hands on his shoulders, not pushing him away, but anchoring herself to him. In doing so, the towel around her body loosened, her breasts were painfully pressed against him, likely leaking with milk. She breathed hard, her heady desires rising rapidly at his rare touch. 

Even during the whopping two times they coupled, Aemond was not nearly this lascivious with her. At most, he had rubbed her clit and fingered her for a minute or two just so it made his descent inside her easier for both of them. He always took her from behind, always kept her face pressed against the mattress so he wouldn’t look at her. 

But he was looking at her now, with knuckles deep in her cunt, showing his claim to his property. The heat that bloomed in her chest and core blotted out her anger towards him, and Aenys eagerly showed him how much she wanted him by rolling her hips into his hand, encouraging him to pleasure her. “Aemond– please, I need–”

Aemond had nearly broken and bent like a weak-willed man. The crotch of his breeches were already tight, and now the laces strained against the thickening of his cock underneath. But something snapped awake in him, reminding him of who he was lusting for. Aenys, the bane of his existence, the great Whore of King’s Landing. He pulled away from her in an instant like she had just burned him with an iron poker. The hand that was buried inside stretched and curled at his side as if he had just touched something vile. 

The towel crumpled on the floor, her vanity exposed, making it look like the trembling body of a wounded doe, waiting to be killed. The hurt of rejection was clear upon her face, with wide eyes and quivering lips. 

He still had the knife, he still wanted to drive it home into her heart. Aemond wanted to hurt her as much as she hurt him over the span of their marriage, over the span of their childhood. 

“You are merely a duty, Aenys. One that was thrusted upon me against my will, and being the loyal son that I am, I accepted this fate without complaint,” He turned away from her, keeping her on his blind side as if the very image of her naked form repulsed him… Or weakened him. “That is all this marriage is. The gods were merciful enough to grant me two heirs from you, and I see that as a fulfillment of my duty. I need nothing more from you.” 

With that he strode around the tub, his steps quicker than his usual gait. His fingers still flexed at his side before he reached for the door to see himself out, but before he did, he paused. Aemond looked down, slowly reached for something in his pocket, then turned back to her. 

Aenys stood there, crestfallen, her head bowed, making her damp hair a curtain around her face like limp strands of white seaweed. She had her arms folded around her chest, her knees were slightly caved in the middle as she tried to hide her pelvic region. His jaw slacked at the sight of her, and a flicker of regret passed his features like dust in the wind. The hickies were still on her chest, splotches of yellowed skin with purple hues at the center, reminding him why she did not deserve his pity. 

“Here,” Aemond growled. With his thumb, he flicked something in her direction. It sang in the air before landing with a noisy clank, and then rolled on the hardwood floor before it clattered to a stop. When Aenys’ eyes flickered to it, her brow furrowed. It was a single copper star coin. 

“That’s all you’re worth.”

Then, he was gone with the slamming of the door. The singing of the coin still rang in her ears, along with the chanting of voices saying over, and over again: 

Unworthy. 

Unfit.

Unwanted.

Unloved.

Whore. Whore. Whore. Whore.

It happened so incredibly fast that Aenys was tugged violently back into sobriety. 

Two days passed since the argument with Aemond, and she had not seen him at all since. It was not like she was seeking him out, but his avoidance felt more like a conscious effort rather than a coincidence. Even when Aenys visited Aegon in the library while he was learning the geography of Westeros, Aemond was vacant for the entire lesson. Which was strange, since Aemond liked to be a part of Aegon’s lessons, often shadowing the Maester or replacing him altogether to ensure that his son was getting a proper education.

When Aenys did see Aemond, it was during Vaemond’s petition.

The petition started off dull and boring, at least to Aenys, even when she was already four cups of Arbour Gold in. She stood there with her hands laced in front of her, rocking on the balls of her feet, wishing she was in the Dragon Pit with Sunflyre, the only living soul that seemed to care about her. She wasn’t paying a lick of attention to what Vaemond was saying – he gave a long speech about Velaryon blood and yada yada yada. At one point Rhaenyra cut him off to defend her son’s blood status, which was quickly shut down by the Queen. 

It didn’t really get that interesting until the doors opened and the broken and hollow footsteps of King Viserys forced everyone into a stunned silence. Aenys and Aemond watched with baited breath as the ailing King hobbled over to the dais of the Iron Throne unaided. His crown fell from his head, which was quickly scooped by his rogue brother. Daemon helped his brother into his throne and then gently placed the gold crown back upon his head with such tenderness, it was easy for Aenys to forget her uncle's reputation. Easy to forget the proposition he offered her days ago.

It was easy to believe that deep down, he might have actually been a good man. And Aenys’ heart ached in envy over her half-sister’s luck to have such a husband at her side. Infidelity aside, Daemon had not once displayed disinterest to his wife since they arrived. They reared their children together, they walked together, shoulder to shoulder, they conversed normally without argument. It begged the question as to why he propositioned Aenys in the first place…

But when he turned away from Viserys to join his family, Daemon caught her eye. Then Aenys fundamentally realized something: She reminded him of not only himself, but of the girl Rhaenyra used to be.

Then something utterly bizarre happened in that same exact moment when Daemon strode past her. She felt Aemond shift closer to her side; the heat of his body near unbearable, given the cold shoulder he had been giving her their entire marriage. Then she felt his arm slither around her waist, his fingers digging into the meat of her hip. Aenys’ brow furrowed, then she slowly turned to Aemond with a budding snarl on her lip. However, Aemond wasn’t looking at her; he was too busy glaring at their uncle’s retreating back. 

After that moment, all hell broke loose; Rhaenys spoke for her husband and Viserys declared the matter being settled. Lucerys would keep his inheritance, even though anyone with eyes knew it was unjustly deserved. However Vaemond was not fixed to roll over that easily. 

The words “Bastard” and “Whore” echoed in the Throne Room, and Aenys felt herself flinch as if they were directed at her. Though it wasn’t, they were directed at her half-sister, Rhaenyra. Who arguably out of the two sisters was the least whore-ish of all, and yet the consequences of her affair with a single man were regarded far more viciously than the lecherous reputation Aenys harboured. 

But would that be her fate if she gave birth to bastards? If her current sons weren’t Aemond’s, or even just failed to look like him at all? Would she be standing there in Rhaenyra’s place, pleading for everyone to believe that her sons were legitimate? 

Vaemond’s head was chopped in half. His body slumped, the top half of his skull slipped off with a squelch of blood and flesh as his tongue flopped out of his bottom half. 

“He can keep his tongue.” 

In the chorus of screams and gasps, Aenys’ reaction was no different to any other gently bred lady of the court. Her hands went flying to the sides of her face and she rushed to turn away. In her horror she didn’t even completely register Aemond’s arms wrapping around her shoulders, pulling her into his chest to shield her from the gruesome display. 

“Are you alright?” Aemond’s question was almost as queer as the tone he chose to speak it in. 

“I’m fine,” her eyes narrowed at him, her goblet of wine was cradled to her chest as if he was about to snatch it away from her. “Why?” Her voice was gritty and filled with suspicion and seven cups of wine. 

“I went to your quarters earlier; your guard told me you were adamant on not being disturbed,” he said it so cooly, Aenys was almost convinced that he actually cared. Even though she knew better to assume otherwise, the fact he had gone to her quarters at all (and to concede in her need to not be disturbed) felt incredibly out of character to him. 

“That’s because my maid was busy distracting me with her tongue in my cunt,” she sipped her wine casually, ignoring the flash of annoyance in Aemond’s eye. 

“Aenys–”

She scoffed at him before he continued. Their argument the other day was still fresh on her mind; his words echoed in her nightmares and branded itself to her insides. “Do not start, Aemond,” she rolled her eyes and waved her cup-bearing hand at him dismissively. “It is about time that you come to peace with my nature, just like I have come to peace with the fact that my name sounds a lot like ‘anus’. So in peace, in fact, that anal has become a speciality of mine–”

Aenys could sense his rise in outrage, but they weren’t alone in the small hall, so there was no room to react. Their entire family gathered around the table in anticipation of the King’s arrival so they could be seated for their family dinner. The first of its kind in many, many years. 

Before Aemond could grip her arm and pull her into some dark alcove to berate her, the doors opened and four guards came in carrying their ailing father on a litter. Slowly and one by one, people took their spots at the table, not sitting until the King was situated at the center.

The small hall was painfully quiet, even when King Viserys spoke, declaring that it brought him joy to see all of them at the table as one. Alicent led the dinner with a prayer, and everyone in the table complied by clasping their hands, some bowing their heads, some closing their eyes. Aemond had done both, making Aenys roll her eyes instead of closing them. She didn’t even bother clasping her hands; there was no point. The gods hated her, she was a sinner most foul. There was little dignity in pretending otherwise. 

After that, Viserys explained how the night was one of celebration, and went on to congratulate the betrothal of Jacaerys and Lucerys to their cousins and step siblings, Baela and Rheana. 

As everyone raised their goblets for a toast, Aenys couldn’t help herself but lean into Jacaerys’ side, her features mockingly soft and considerate. 

“Well done, Jace, you can finally put those skills I taught you to good use,” Aenys managed to keep her face straight when Baela sent her a sharp look. Jacaerys didn’t bother acknowledging her with a glance, instead he drank a generous helping of his wine, puckering his lips as he staved off the urge to make a sharp remark. 

As Viserys congratulated Lucerys for his preservation of his title, (The Lord of the Tides! Here, here!) Aenys caught Aemond’s eye. He was heatedly staring at her over the rim of his goblet, his jaw taut with agitation. The knowledge that Aenys and Jacaerys had done little experiments with each other in their mid teens was an open secret, at least between the four of them. It was a fact that Aemond was openly not fond of, though Aenys didn’t entirely understand why. She and him weren’t betrothed at the time, and as far as she was aware, her brother resented both her and Jacaerys equally during that era in their life. What with them and Luke being the primary villains in his childhood. 

Aenys turned back to Jacaerys, leaning against his chair by draping her arm on the back of it, crowding his space. 

“You do remember how the act is done, right? At least in principle, seeing as we never got around to sticking your cock in–”

“Enough, cousin,” Baela whispered harshly from the other side of Jacaerys, who was already losing his temper. 

“You can play the harlot if you wish, aunt, but hold your tongue before my betrothed,” Jace whispered, his words were more of a hiss as he braced himself on the edge of the table. 

Aenys blinked at him and nodded, “Mhm. Whatever you say, my dear nephew.”

As she settled back into her chair, she felt fingers snake onto her knee and grip tightly. This brought her attention back to her husband, whose lips were pursed and his eye blazed with warning. Aenys merely smiled at him as if they were in wedded bliss, her hand reaching down to her knee to grab his, then pulling it up on the table, where she laced her fingers with his. The action earned her a little rumble from deep in his chest, and she half expected him to tear his hand out of her grip, but he didn’t. 

He just looked away from her, eye trained on something (or someone) at the other end of the table. There was a twitch in the muscle under his injured eye, and in that moment she felt his fingers tighten around her own. 

The sound of Viserys’ cane hitting the floor silenced the whispers around the table and garnered the attention of everyone in the room. The frail King rose from his seat, and everyone watched with bated breath and concern, as if he would topple over at his attempt. 

“It both gladdens my heart and fills me with sorrow to see these faces around the table. The faces most dear to me in all the world, yet grown so distant from each other in the years past,” Viserys paused as he slowly reached for the bronzed mask that hid half his face. Unbuckling the fastens, he let it fall onto the table. His right side exposed, the empty socket, the decayed flesh that lay underneath.

 He was already half a corpse, half dead. It made Aenys’ breath hitch and her mind sober at the sight. She had never seen her father like this before; frail, weak, dying, his wounds displayed to them and yet stood above them all. Aenys only ever saw Viserys as a crippled man with no backbone, and eyes full of hate and disappointment when he looked in her direction. His most distasteful daughter.

“My own face… is no longer a handsome one… If it indeed ever was. But tonight, I wish you to see me as I am. Not just as the king, but your father, your brother, your husband, and your grandsire. Who may not, it seems... walk for much longer among you. Let us no longer hold ill feelings in our hearts. The crown cannot stand strong if the house of the dragon remains divided. Set aside your grievances. If not for the sake of the crown, then for the sake of this old man... who loves you all... so dearly.”

There was a palpable taste of shame, guilt, remorse, and heartbreak in the room. One that Aenys had to chase down with a drink from her cup. Unbeknownst to her own mind, her fingers had curled slightly around Aemond’s hand, which still remained in hers. Her eyes were settled on the table, but Aemond’s focus was their intertwined fingers, a deep, pensive look in his eye.

Soon after the King was back in his seat did Rhaenyra stand up with her goblet, declaring she was raising it for the Queen. She spoke of her loyalty to her father, and her devotion and love. Sentiments that Aenys found illinformed, knowing what she knew about her mother, knowing that she was no different than her estranged eldest daughter. If only Rhaenyra knew about Ser Criston…

But then Alicent spoke in kind, looking directly at the Crown Princess with soft eyes; eyes that Aenys had never seen when her mother ever looked in her direction. 

“We are both mothers, and we love our children,” the statement stung like a band of hornets. Aenys pursed her lips and tore her attention off of the center of the table, feeling bile eat up her throat. She washed it down with more wine, making her cup empty. 

As everyone toasted and silently resumed to their plates and idle chatter, Aenys turned towards the pitcher that sat between Baela and Jacaerys. Her mouth was parched and that bile wouldn’t go away. She found herself standing and unlatching her hand from Aemond’s as she strode around Jacaerys’ chair, making her way towards the pitcher. She could feel Aemond’s eye on her every move. 

Clearing her throat, she gently squeezed between the two chairs so she could reach for the pitcher of wine. Once she got it in her grasp, she stood up and innocently began to pour it into her cup with her back facing the direction of their parents. 

“I, um,” she started, tongue moving along her teeth as she addressed Baela directly. “I regret the disappointment you are soon to suffer. But, if you two ever need a couple extra helping hands, all you have to do is ask–”

Jace’s fists slammed against the table as he stood, eyes piercing Aenys as she walked casually around him, innocent as ever as she returned to her seat. The Strong Prince’s heated onyx gaze watched her with pure hatred, his body vibrating with the need to yell, or worse. When all eyes were on him, looks of surprise or mute apprehension, Aemond slowly stood up, towering over him at his end of the table. Aenys simply looked around the table innocently, only briefly catching the knowing look from her grandsire. 

Her husband’s eye was trained on Jacaerys, his stoic demeanor emanating an underlying threat; daring Jace to say something or do something. To give Aemond a reason.

Instead, Jace sucked in his lips and quickly swiped up his goblet. With a slight turn of his shoulders, he faced Aenys, a painfully forced smile on his plush lips as he gave her a little pat on her head. 

With a deep inhale, he raised his cup, “To Prince Aemond and Princess Aenys… We have not seen each other in years, but I have fond memories of our shared youth.”

“Mmmhm,” Aenys hummed in her seat, her smirk tugging at the end of her lip. Aemond remained standing, but he took a split second to send her a withering look. 

“And as men and women, I hope we may yet be friends and allies,” he raised his cup in their direction. “To the health of your young family, my dear uncle, and my sweet aunt.” 

Jace sat back down, giving her a pat on the shoulder as he did. Not long after, Aemond finally settled back in his seat, looking a tad disappointed that he wasn’t given a reason to throw hands. As everyone raised their goblets to Jace’s toast, Aenys sighed and rolled her eyes. Her tongue was moving around in her mouth, the desperate need to say something in turn. It really didn’t take much time before she let the pettiness win, and soon it was now her time to rise from the table, full goblet in hand. 

“I would like to toast to Baela and Rhaena,” she began, a disingenuous smile stretched across her face that was instantly read by her family. Aside from her father, who looked like he was having trouble keeping his head up at that point. “You will be married soon, and I feel it is my duty as a member of the league of blissfully wedded women to impart some of my sage wisdom…” She trailed off, actively ignoring the glare from her mother, brother, and grandsire. “The key to a good marriage is communication and patience. And when you’re angry with each… lemons, loads of lemons,” Aenys ended her toast with a cheeky grin before she felt her sleeve get yanked by Aemond, forcing her to sit back down. 

Daemon was the only person who chuckled at the table, catching her jest immediately. Everyone else either looked confused or conflicted on what to make of Aenys’ little toast.

 With the tensions still thick, Viserys requested music to fill the void. Aenys felt Jacaerys shift in his seat, pushing back his chair to stand up. With a pompous air of superiority, he offered his hand to his soon-to-be bride, who looked up at him with equal levels of fondness and delight. Before Jace and Baela left the table, Aenys caught her nephew’s smugness as he shared a look with Aemond. When the couple walked around the table towards the open space to dance, Aemond’s eye found Aenys’ in turn, a silent dual recognition of Jace's intentions. 

Despite her little toast, it was common knowledge that her marriage with Aemond was not the blissful one she had claimed. It was not a secret either that he rarely touches her, nor was it unknown that Aenys had a long string of lovers to compensate for the lack of physical affection. Jace asking Baela for a dance seemed innocent, but it very much wasn’t. What it was, was a statement: “We are better than you in every way.” 

Aenys crossed her legs under the table as she nursed her wine. She was practically slumped against the chair as she watched the couple with poorly concealed contempt and jealousy. As time went on in a haze of music, soft laughter and chatter, the tension eased from all seated except for the young married couple at the far right end of the table. Neither of them touched their food the entire time. 

From the corner of Aenys’ eye, she could see Daemon shift in his seat, as if he was going to get up. However, the anguished sigh of the King stopped him, as well as everyone else in the room. The tired and ailing King was carried out of the small hall on his litter, everyone stood and paused as they gave him their regard and respect. Not long after his departure, however, did the atmosphere shift. 

Servants came through the doors a minute after, holding a large platter that was the bed of a roasted, sizzling pig. The large plate was carefully slid in front of both Aemond and Aenys. The former had been impassively staring at Jace and Baela still dancing, but the moment he heard giggling from the other end of the table, his head slowly turned towards the smirking boy, the one who made him half blind. 

Aenys’ cup was halfway towards her lips when she noticed her husband’s look, and she immediately clocked the twitch in his cheek and the tightness of his jaw. She slowly placed her cup down back on the table, now that a real show was about to begin. 

When Aemond’s fist landed in the wooden table, Aenys felt a spike of adrenaline shoot down her spine, straight down to her cunt. 

 “Final tribute.” 

“Aemond, are you listening to me?!” Alicent shouted, her chest heaving as she stared at her son with wide disapproving eyes, marbled by the glossiness of her embarrassment over her son’s uncharacteristic and unprovoked confrontation at supper.

Aemond wasn’t listening to her, of course. It went in one ear and out the other. After Daemon had wedged himself between him and his nephews, with that smug-ass look on his face, Aemond strode out of the room and went straight to his quarters. His mind was reeling and his muscles were tense with adrenalin at what transpired that evening. Of course, he felt an immense amount of satisfaction for putting his nephews in their place, of reminding them who their competition was. But that wasn’t what plagued his mind, oh no. 

It was Aenys.

She had been a pain in his ass the entire eve, from the moment she walked in, already well into her cups. Despite the tense argument they had the other day, Aenys still had no qualms flaunting her sexual deviances around like a badge of honour, in front of him no less. However, her taunting Jacaerys the way she did, making him and Baela squirm with just her words stirred something in him that evening. Of course, he abhorred the knowledge that Jace and his wife fooled around as young teens (back when Aenys was closer to him than she ever was with Aemond), it was simply the act of her using that as a weapon that Aemond couldn’t help but respect. Begrudgingly.

But it wasn’t just that. When Aemond’s final tribute took a violent turn, Aenys wasted no time in joining him. When Jace approached Aemond and raised his fist, Luke had approached to do the same thing.

 It was very reminiscent of the night that Aemond lost his eye; they all gained up on him, and at the time he was alone. Aenys was somewhere with that male servant she had been flirting with at the funeral, likely getting her holes fingered. At the time, Aemond resented her for not being there with him. She was his older sister after all, and the closest blood he had aside from Helaena and Daeron who were both in Oldtown. Though he knew logically that Aenys couldn’t have possibly known that Aemond was even outside in the first place, claiming Vhagar. But still, it was the budding reason as to why he had pointed his finger at her when their father asked where he had heard the ‘lie’ about Rhaenyra’s children being bastards.

However at supper, when Luke strode to join Jacaerys’ assault, much like he had done that fateful night, Aenys was on him in an instant. With a strength he had absolutely no idea she possessed, she had grabbed onto Luke’s arm and pinned him on the table, hovering over him with a self-satisfied expression on her face. She enjoyed putting the Strong boys in their place as much as Aemond did, reminding them that they were the true Targaryens, the rightful heirs. 

When Rhaena went to grab Aenys, she had no choice but to pull herself away from Luke in order to fend her cousin off. In doing so Luke twirled off the table, and raised his hand to grab Aenys by the back of her haid. Aemond’s heart spiked. Though, just as he was about to bound over there in quick strides, Aenys twirled around and landed a swift punch of her own to Luke’s left eye. 

“Be lucky I wasn’t holding a dagger, you bastard,” Aenys spat in her nephew’s face and stepped over him, leaving him sprawled on the floor, clutching his bruised eye. 

Aemond was staring at his wife with a wide eye and a hardening cock/ But before he could even grab her, Daemon had stepped between them all as guards scrambled to pull Rhaenyra’s brood away. The sight of his uncle immediately infuriated him, particularly the smug way he was looking back. 

“Aemond,” Alicent’s word sliced through his reverie, and brought him back to the present. He turned to look at her, his face completely impassive. She was berating him for the past ten minutes or so, and he sat there in quiet, not bothering to respond. 

He wasn’t listening, he didn’t care. He would have done it again and again and again, if it meant he could watch Aenys punch Luke over and over again.

“I cannot believe you, of all people, Aemond, would have said such things in front of everyone. After we had just established peace!” 

“Peace?” Aemond repeats the word like it is the most vile thing he’s ever tasted. He stood up from his arm chair and sauntered over to his mother. “You lost the right to peace long ago when you told me that I was Rhaenyra’s challenge. When you and grandsire groomed me to be the future king, despite father’s steadfast decision of keeping Rhaenyra as his heir. You lost the right to peace when you married him in the first place, effectively creating a war when you gave him more children. And Rhaenyra lost the right to it when she opened her legs and sired bastards.” 

“Aemond–” Alicent took a step forward, her face slowly cracking as she pleaded with him, but he put his hand up to stop her. His face was twisted in disgust. 

“You said to her… That she would make a fine Queen. You said that to her, in front of me, mother,” Aemond pursed his lips and gritted his jaw as he turned away from Alicent. “After all you’ve told me… After years of preparing me for the throne, telling me how I would make my ancestors proud. Did you believe any of it, or were you just stroking your own ambition?”

Alicent gaped at him, her brown eyes wide and glossy. The truth of his words bit her like the chill of a winter breeze, causing her to freeze over in the consequences of her sins.

When Aemond saw that she was not going to answer, his nostrils flared and he sharply turned away from her. His long, heavy steps ate up the floor within seconds until he’s reaching for the door.

“Wher-where are you going?” She questioned, turning to him with a flash of fear crossing her features, as if she suspects him of doing something heinous. 

Aemond hesitated, his fingers flexing around the handle of the door, his shoulders taut and the muscles in his cheek twitching under the strength of his gritted jaw. 

“To my wife.”

When Aemond barged into Aenys’ quarters for the second time that week, she was sitting on a settee with her maidservant straddling her lap. Aenys was sucking on the girl’s perky nipple while her hand was buried under her skirts, knuckles deep in the servant’s cunt. 

When the maid turned to see who had entered, her eyes widened to saucers and she immediately pulled herself off of the Princess’s lap (much to Aenys’ chagrin), releasing her nipple from her mouth with an obscene popping sound. 

“What the hells, Aemond,” the Princess growled. 

Aemond ignored her statement. As the maid scrambled to fix her bodice, he jutted his thumb towards the exit, “Out.” With barely a nod and a curtsy, the maid scrambled out, still lacing up her bodice.

Aenys glared up at him as she slumped in her seat, her face was flushed (from drink or from the activities that were interrupted), and the laces of her bodice were loosened, threatening to release her breasts.

“Way to be a cock block, husband,” Aenys huffed when the door slammed shut. She stood up then, her hands thrown in the air in exasperation. “What do you even– Aemond!” 

He had grabbed her waist, lifting her with ease as he tossed her over his shoulder. Aemond took wide strides towards her bedchamber and once there, he tossed Aenys onto the bed, kicking the door behind him closed. 

Aenys stared up at him, wide eyed, gobsmacked, and utterly confused. Her plush, swollen lips were parted, her hair was in a disarray around her face as she sat propped on her elbows. 

“Wh-what are you–” Her eyes traveled to his hands, where he was unbuckling his belt and scabbard, his one lilac eye trained on her like she was a rabbit and he the fox. 

“Reminding you that you’re my wife,” He said the last word with a growl as he jerked off his belt in one swing. Aenys’ eyes flashed with excitement and alarm at his words, his hands, and the hungry look upon him. 

“I-I thought… I was merely a duty,” she swallowed thickly as she moved further into the cushions, crawling backwards on her elbows as he slowly approached the edge of the bed. Aemond put his knee into the mattress, his large hands bracing themselves on either side of her knees as he crawled over her body. “A duty you already fulfilled.” 

Aemond hummed, his expression nearly unreadable. His eye was dark with the blackness of his wide pupil as he carefully examined her body and her face. 

“I was mistaken,” he finally said, his voice low but dangerous. “My duty won’t be fulfilled until this castle is teaming with our progeny.” 

A shock of arousal goes down her spine, punctuated by how he grabs the laces of her bodice at the front and yanks so violently that the seams rip off her dress. She gasped, looking down in both horror and fascination as Aemond proceeded to rip her dress in half from the neckline down, leaving her in nothing but the shift underneath. 

Aemond drank the image of her body, just visible underneath the thin muslin material of her shift. The image of her punching Luke replayed in his mind’s eye over and over again. The way she stood there with her chest heaving, the turn of her little waistline, the shape of her pear shaped hips and thighs. Her ass. Fuck, her ass. 

His hands gripped her hips and tossed her on her stomach, withdrawing a gasp and yelp at the rough and sudden movement. Aemond was quick to tear off the rest of the torn dress from her, snaking her arms out of it and tossing it aside. Then he pulled her hips up towards him, and Aenys was quick to assume the position. 

This was how they always coupled; with her face buried in the pillows, her ass up for him as he bred her like a bitch in heat. He told himself that the reason he chose that position was because he did not want to see her face when he released his spend in her. That their coupling was solely for the purposes of procreation, and seeing her face would simply soften his cock. But, no, that wasn’t it at all… The truth of it was that Aemond absolutely loved Aenys’ ass. And what’s more, it even seemed to get bigger when she became a mother.

Aenys’ eyes fluttered closed when she felt his fingers slowly run up her thighs, pushing up the fabric of her shift, exposing her rear to him. She was so fucking wet, so needy, she could feel her walls clenching around nothing in eager anticipation. It originated, of course, during her budding tryst with her maid, but it was amplified the moment Aemond grabbed her.

Gods, how she hungered for his touch. He cruelly deprived her of it for years and years, forcing her to seek it in others, only to find shallow fulfillment. Aenys had no idea what got into him that evening, but she wasn’t complaining. Mayhaps it was the supper, the adrenalin rush of what conspired. Even she would concede watching Aemond dominate a room with a simple toast had riled her up. Had she known her husband had similar sentiments, she would have fucked him right then and there, in front of their entire fucking family. 

Aenys let out a whimper of anticipation, waiting for the sounds of his laces to be undone so he could sink into her impatient core. It wasn’t coming. All she could feel was the heat of his body, the gentle brush of his breath on her exposed skin, and the searing brand of his stare. Aenys moved her hips closer to him, coaxing him to take her, to fuck another son into her.

“Aemond,” She sounded so pathetic, so needy.  

Aemond hummed, a little bit amused by her reaction to him. The end of his lip curled in a devious little smirk. “Tell me, wife, are you always this impatient with your lovers?” He punctuated his question as he leaned over her and grounded his clothed hips against her rear, his hardened length painfully evident. 

A small gasp escaped her parted lips, “N-no–”

“No?” His voice was a quiet rumble, one hand gripping her hip as he grinded against her ass, and the other was planted on the mattress to keep himself steady. “An wanton whore like you? I am surprised, Aenys.” 

“They’re… They’re not–” She softly moaned when his fingers slid down the slope of her spine. 

“They’re not what?” Aemond’s voice was low and rough and so close to her that it sent vibrations down her ear canal.

“Not you.” 

Aemond paused his grinding when she said that, his eye watching her closely as if he was processing this confession. Finally, he hummed, his smirk returning, “No, they are not.”

He pulled away from her, both hands finding the globes of her ass and pulling them apart so he could see her puckered hole and the sheen of her wet core. “How many men have been inside these, I wonder…” His thumb inches deftly close to her hole, recalling the comment she made earlier that evening about how anal had become her ‘speciality’. Aemond decided he would have her prove that statement, but not right now.

“Hells, Aemond, please, just fucking touch– Ah!” She yelped sharply and jerked forward when he slapped her ass. He was then quick to rub the area he had struck; she could have sworn she heard him chuckle softly as he did. 

“Whores do not make demands,” Aemond gripped her hips again and pulled her flush against his thighs, then he reached over and gripped the scruff of her hair at the back of her head. His fingers curled at the roots as he pulled her back, arching her painfully. “You want me to touch you, sweet sister? You want me inside of you again, hm?”

Aenys’ face was twisted in pain and pleasure. Her mouth was hanging open and her eyes were shut as she endured the uncomfortable position he was bending her in.

“Yes, yes, fuckin’ hells, Aemond,” her plea was laced with budding frustration. She could feel her thighs tremble from not only the position, but from the sheer eagerness for him. 

“Then you will renew your vows right here, right now,” his grip tightened on her hair, making her whimper again. “You belong to me, and only me. Say it, Aenys.” 

“I-I,” she struggled to speak as her neck craned back. “I belong t-to you, Aemond.”

“You will take no other lovers.”

“I will take no other lovers,” she echoed his words without hesitation.

“Your body will belong to me, and only me.”

“Only you, Aemond, my body belongs to you, please–please– Ee-ah!” Her mouth widened as she let out a loud whimper when he bucked his hips into her behind. 

“And why is that, sister? Why do you belong to me?” His nose hovered next to her ear, the waft of his hot breath making her eyes flutter. 

“Because—Because I’m–I’m your wife. ‘Nd- And I’m your-your property,” her tongue darted to wet her drying lips. 

Aemond’s eye shut, his head leaned back as a rumbly moan reverberated in his chest. Hearing Aenys say those words gave him the same feeling he had when he claimed Vhagar. A lightness bloomed in his belly, warm like the sun as it pooled into the veins of his cock, making him harder than he already was.

He claimed the unclaimable mount; Aenys, the wild dragon of King’s Landing. 

Incapable of waiting any longer, Aemond lets go of Aenys’ hair, making her collapse back on the bed with a strangled sigh. Soon after his hands were around her waist, sharply flipping her over again, and gripping the front of her shift and tearing the fabric open much like the dress before it. The shift was shredded in seconds, exposing her completely before him, looking like a gods damn feast, and it was all for him. 

Aemond’s eye settled on her core, the tufts of ivory curls glistening with her essence. He felt his mouth water at the sight. 

Aenys was breathing hard, her back aching from being bent in half a moment ago. But that didn’t matter, her mind was reeling with desire and her limbs felt like they were worming around slowly, involuntarily, like a coiling snake. Despite her needy state, she couldn’t help but comment about her shredded attire. 

“Are you going to make it a habit to rip up all my clothing, Aemond?”

Aemond’s heated gaze shifted from her core up to her face, “If it keeps you like this for me, yes.” 

Before she could respond, his arms are wrapping around her thighs and he’s dropping on his stomach, pulling her sex towards his face. Aenys’ eyes bulge open as he buries his face into her nest of curls. Aemond did not gift her a second to compute what was happening, because he was immediately devouring her with relentless vigor. 

“OOooh, fucking hells, AEMOND!”

His tongue was lapping up her pearl like he was trying to slurp it up from an oyster. Then brought up his fingers to join, delving into her folds, curling into that spongy spot hidden within her. Aemond was relentless in his speed and force, putting his wife into a frenzy of torturous pleasure. Aenys’ thighs were jerking and trembling uncontrollably, forcing Aemond to hold them down so he could continue his assault on her cunt unimpeded. But the stimulation was virtually agonizing, making Aenys writhe and kick her legs, her pleas for him to slow down were almost incomprehensible. 

“A-a-a-aemon-mon– fuck-f-fufufuck, s-sto-p—” But his lips wrapped around her pearl and he started to suckle on it. Her hips sharply buckled into him, as a long guttural moan vibrated her lungs.

“F-f-f-f-fuck, ‘m gonna-’m gonna—”

And just when she was going to reach that blinding peak, the fucker pulls away. Aenys falls into a heap on the mattress, her muscles release its tension, but her loins are tightly wound up and flushed pink from Aemond’s last meal. 

When Aenys looks up with bleary eyes, a furrowed brow, and panting breaths, she sees Aemond put his fingers into his mouth, sucking off her juices from his digits. He’s still looking at her like he hasn’t eaten a damn thing all day. 

“What the fuck has gotten into you?” She questioned through her rapid breathing, her heart thrumming wildly in her chest. 

“Do you really want me to stop just to answer that question?”

There was no deliberation, “No.” 

“Good.”

Aemond stands at the foot of the bed, starting to unbuckle his jerkin. Aenys is quick to scoot to the edge of the bed to help him unlace his breeches. Within several seconds, Aemond was just as bare as her, all except for his eyepatch. Though that wouldn’t last for long. 

Aenys got on her knees on top of the bed, making her almost eye level with him. Aemond watched her unblinkingly as she raised her fingers to touch the side of his face, following the scar until her nail hit the eyepatch. She took it off with a surprising amount of tenderness, being that it was the first time he had ever let her near his injured eye. 

Aenys' eyes started to gloss over as she really took in the sight. To finally see the carnage up close, the gnarled skin, the scar slicing down the middle, pink at the ridges. His damaged eyelids fluttered at the feeling of her fingers ghosting around it. Suddenly the weight of the past came flooding back to her; the guilt clawing up her throat. She should have been there for him when it happened, she should have been there to protect her little brother. Aenys opened her mouth to say something, but before she could let out a noise, Aemond took the hand that was on his cheek and placed a kiss on the palm, a gesture of forgiveness. 

“We will make them pay, Aemond,” her tone was soft, but the threat was laced in a venomous promise. 

Something flashed in Aemond’s eye. A spark of fire that reflected the one in Aenys’ violet orbs. With a low growl, Aemond grasped the front of her neck like she was a goblet of fine Arbor Red and pulled her into a devouring kiss, as possessive as it was searing. This was the first time the two of them kissed since their wedding. 

In a flurry of limbs and a ballad of moans and groans, Aenys and Aemond grasped, grabbed and fought each other as they both tried to fill the dominant role, all the while keeping their lips glued together. Aenys' legs wrapped around his middle, Aemond’s were holding her thighs from underneath as they rolled and bumped around the room, hitting every surface they could find, colliding into things and causing stuff to crash and break on the floor. 

Aemond’s cock was pressed against her cunt, twitching and leaking and eager to be inside of her. The blunt tip would brush against her pearl every once in a while in their clumsy wrestling, making her whine and then growl in frustration. Before too long, their bodies were entangled on the bed again, as Aenys tried to fight for her position to be on top. However, in the process of that, the two of them went tumbling onto the floor, with Aemond hovering over her body and Aenys laying flat on her belly. 

Groaning, Aenys pushed herself on her knees, giving Aemond ample opportunity to grab onto her hips and pull her against him. With his cock nestled between her thighs, he stood on his knees, gripping the hair at the back of her head and pulling her flush against his torso. In front of them stood her floor length mirror, the display presented to them was lewd, humiliating and insanely arousing. 

Aemond stared at her reflection, his eye blackened by his pupil. He peered over her shoulder as one arm wrapped around her waist and the other pulled her hair back, craning her neck. Aenys had no choice but to balance on the balls of her feet, her legs straddling his as he sat on his knees. Aemond’s curved cock pressing against the slit of her mound, brushing against her pearl when it twitched. 

The arm that was wrapped around her middle slowly moved down until his palm reached her mons. A long finger dipped through her curls until he found her abused nub, instantly sending her thighs into a tremble. Unlike earlier, his ministrations were slower, building her high back up at a steadfast pace. Aenys' hips rotated against his hand, her whines gentle, but the sweat on the back of her neck and brow showed her desperation for release. 

“Look at yourself, sweet sister,” Aemond purred into her ear, the vocal fry of his tone sending a shiver down her spine. “So desperate for me and only me. I always wondered, Aenys: is it my cock you imagine when you fuck your lovers? Do you close your eyes and imagine it is my body pressed against yours?”

Aenys was panting desperately, a soft mewl on her lips when she nodded. 

“Use your words, darling, or I’ll stop.”

She groaned in annoyance, knowing she had no choice but to comply. With his cock hot against her slit, she couldn’t take the waiting any longer. 

“Y-yes,” she finally admitted begrudgingly through her clenched teeth. Both of her hands were grasping his forearm, the one wrapped around her, the one whose hand was massaging her pearl. “Yes, Aemond, I– I crave you so fucking much, it drives me insane. Aemond, please–please–” 

Aemond chuckled into her ear, his grin of self-satisfaction looking like a wolf about to devour the doe he had been trying to chase down for days. 

“Oh, Aenys,” he nuzzles his nose into her hair, next to the shell of her ear, “I’m going to make sure the whole damn Kingdom knows who you belong to. There won’t be a year in your life where you won't be carrying my child.” 

Aenys' eyelids fluttered at his statement, the heat pooling down to her cunt like a rush of lava. Aemond uses both his hands to grip her thighs, forcing her to squat above him, letting the blunt tip of his cock align with her sex. With one of his hands, he moves it along the sopping wet folds, brushing against her sore pearl before finding the entrance below. His mouth pops open as he slowly pushes her hips down, spearing his cock into her until he reaches the hilt. 

Aenys threw her head back into his shoulder and Aemond buried his face into the crook of her neck, a guttural groan emitting from his throat. Her warmth enveloped him like nothing else he’s ever found before. Not Sylvi, not the random whores he endured when Sylvi was not available. Aenys' cunt fit him perfectly, like she was made for him, and yet still hugged around his girth in a velvety vice. And when her walls fluttered around him, Aemond nearly collapsed into her back, a grumbly sigh of satisfaction filtering through his lips. 

He feels his wife grinding her hips against his, her mewls of pleasure tickling the inside of his ears tantalizingly. Regaining his composure, Aemond straightened up and wrapped his arm around her, gripping her hip with one hand, and using the other to grasp onto her left breast. With his calloused fingers, he pinched and pulled at her over sensitive nipples while he made sharp and short thrusts into her, effectively having her bounce on his cock. 

Aenys softly mewled and squirmed in his grasp, trying to match his thrusts with the backing up of her hips. Her hair pooled over her left shoulder, while Aemond hovered over her right. They were watching each other through the mirror, mouths hanging open as they devoured each other with their gazes. Panting, gasps, and gentle moans filled the room, making the air sticky and hot. Aenys suddenly gave a loud whine when he tugged on her nipple, causing Aemond to nearly pause his thrusts when he felt a lukewarm liquid on his fingertips.

Aemond blinked in surprise when he looked down and saw the milk leaking from her nipple. He only had to process it for a few short seconds before he turned absolutely feral. In a flash of movements, Aenys was suddenly hoisted up and turned around, and Aemond was perched on the edge of the bed now. In a quick motion, he wasted no time in slotting back into her like a sword swiftly sheathing into a scabbard. Her head snapped backward as her mouth gaped widely open to let out a loud grunt of pain and pleasure, thanks to Aemond’s cock punching against her cervix.

Her husband gripped the curve of her rear in both hands, fingers digging into the meat as he spread open her cheeks, his middle finger rubbing against the puckered entrance there. His head dipped to her chest and quickly captured her nipple between his lips, and immediately Aenys could feel the sensation of milk leaving her. The tension of her sore breast was immediately relieved as Aemond nursed her; a feeling that was elevated as he pistoned into her still, his grip on her ass making her hips grind against his length, and the curve of his cock to rub against her the sensitive spot inside of her over and over again. 

“Oh, gods, Aemond–” Her head tilted back, her spine rigid with the steady stream of pleasurable sensations he was gifting her. 

He moaned in response against her tit, his fingers tightening into the flesh of her plush rear. The taste of her mother’s milk on his palette was absolutely heavenly; she tasted so sweet, so warm, and the texture felt like liquid silk. Coupled with the fluttering of her walls around his cock, Aemond could already feel his balls tighten and the base of his spine tingle. His release was near, and based on the increase of her whines as she bounced on him, so was she. 

Reluctantly, Aemond pulled away from her breast and looked up at her, his sister, his wife, his Aenys. She looked down at him with parted lips, swollen and flushed with desire, her pupils blown wide and tears forming at the corners. Her hands moved from his shoulders to cup the arch of his jawline, bringing him close to her until their noses bumped and they were breathing each other’s oxygen through their panting parted lips. “Aenys,” her name fell from his lips like a plea, a stark contrast to the dominant commands he had given her the past hour or so. 

“Aemond,” she replied, her voice light as she felt the rise of her impending orgasm, punctuated by the flutter of her cunt. Aemond’s curved cock was relentless in his thrusts, bullying the spongy part inside of her that sent electric thrills throughout her core. It wouldn’t be too long before she is sent hurtling through all seven heavens. 

His grip on her ass tightened, his thrusts became more erratic and the creases in his brow deepened. Aemond gritted his teeth and shut his eye as his growls and groans built up higher and higher. He was reaching such heights he had never experienced before. Though it was like his body knew to wait, until the precise perfect moment, because he didn’t reach his peak until his wife did. Aenys' walls clenched around his girth like a python’s grip, her hands curled into his hair as she sharply gasped and moaned, long and primal. Aemond watched with wide-eyed fascination as her eyes rolled to the back of her head. 

With a few more erratic thrusts up into her, Aemond’s hips stuttered and he gripped tightly onto her. His nose was buried into her neck as he pulled her flushed into him, stilling her movements so he would not get overstimulated. Her name was a gospel of sin and love and longing, sounding guttural and animalistic coming out through his teeth. Ropes of his seed filled her, painting her walls over and over again, filling her awaiting womb. 

Their combined orgasms sent spasms through their limbs, prolonging the pleasure for a few more moments before their muscles loosened and they were left panting on the edge of the bed. Aenys could already feel their combined releases trail down her canal, collecting around the base of his cock and dampening her thighs. 

Feeling utterly spent, Aemond collapsed backwards, bringing her down with him. His softening cock remained inside of her, not willing to release it from the hot velvety embrace. He instead kept his hand splayed on her back while she rested her ear on his heart, both of them panting and silent in the afterglow of their love making. 

Slowly their breathing eased. When they were able to breathe through their noses, Aemond broke the silence, his voice was rough and coarse, yet uncharacteristically tentative. 

“Aenys–” He cleared his throat, his large hand caressing her spine in small circles. “I-I–”

“Shh,” she gently hushed him. Lifting her heavy head, she looked up at him with soft and sober eyes. “I know, brother. I know…”

The words known, but unspoken hung in the air between them. As she and Aemond stared at each other, Aenys couldn't help but feel whole for the first time in her life. 

She felt worthy. 

She felt loved.

Notes: Criticisms are always welcome, but if your only criticism is that dared to make a gender bent character, I'm going to respectfully delete/ignore it. This story came out more tragic than I intended, but eh. I realized while I was writing it that Fem!Aegon would have been in a worse position as a woman, and I decided to explore how she would've been treated had she retained the same personality as canon Aegon. Anyway, hope it was worth the wait, and the long read. The smut itself was over 4k words, lol. Go big or go home, ammirite?

Important: The characters in this one shot do not belong to me, but to GRRM and HBO. Everything written in this short story is written by me, with out the aid of an AI. This is a fanfiction, and therefore free content. Please do not re-post, re-distribute, or translate without my permission. Doing so will be an act of plagiarism, even if you credit me. The only other place this story is posted on, is on my Ao3, under the same username.

Tag List: @aramiv , @aegonisdrunk, @helaegonlover, @startledmonster

*if tumblr doesn't properly tag you, I'll try to send you a message

[enteroctopusdarkysilis]

✨Bionicle crab !✨

It was, originally, meant to be just another arthropod. However, someone reblogged my previous rahi, along with this comment :

Well, guess what ? Yes, absolutely. I’m glad I saw it because it gave me the inspiration for this monstrosity (and it made me laugh more than I would admit, too). Thanks.

I must recognise that if I compare my rahis, there is a clear pipeline. I don’t think it can go much further in this direction.

Anyways, details/closeups/weird illegal technic I just found out, below the cut !

Front (smol Visorak for scale) :

Because it’s really big. It’s also a good excuse to show off my really fancy and glittery Kanohi. No clue where it comes from but it’s beautiful !

I’m really happy with how mean this things looks, overall. It’s most definitely the bad guy for Toas to fight. It has a really good scale to work with my larger customer Toas [here], but it could also act as a really large rahi for my smaller space-based Toas [here]. Why a large crab stealing Kanohis in space, you may ask ? No idea. I’d have to actually think out a lore for that.

I started the conception with the frame (which does make sense, in theory), then the legs, and finally the shell. This was only partially smart, because that meant I did not account for the shell's mass when building the legs. Essentially, this poor thing can't stand on it's own, so I'm using two technic bars underneath to keep it up right (which are hidden in editing, of course).

Top/Hind (shell) :

I think the shell was pretty decent. I tried to use as little pieces as possible to keep it light, but it's still a lot. Among these pieces can be found one Visorak claw and three Mantax feet, which have a nice texture for organic feet. There is also another foot at the front which comes from an Inika set which I can't seem to find. I'm also using some of these large technic panels, which cover a lot of surface without being too much of a pain to set up (still quite a lot, since they're connected to the feet at at an angle, feet which which are also connected to the frame at an odd angle...) Speaking of Mantax, I alsu used the black-pearl shells, because these, too, have a really organic vibe, and it gave a small touch of pearl which was missing on the body.

I tried to keep the back relatively slick, to avoid something similar to an abdomen since it's not a spider. Still I had to extend it a little bit using the rounded cubical cover, to hide some socket joints, but it's okay-ish.

Neath :

Truly a mess, I must admit. As I started with each side separately, I tried to somehow connect them with the large grey technic frame (in the middle). On either sides, I have a whole bunch of axle connectors, both standard and angled, which allow for the thing to appear rounder than it could have been. The two leg sockets peices at the front are used for the eyes, and the pieces abov (barley visible) is a classic Bionicle shoulders piece clipped backward as a base for the pincers arms.

Pincer :

Or mandatory unusual feet usage. These really works well as any kind of claw or armor, in my opinion. The black arm pieces used here (Hordika leg piece) were particularly good for the job as they technic pin holes in there allowed me to add ad additional socket practically at the same level at the original one (even if I would rather have used black technic bars instead of the light grey ones, but i couldn't find any in my supplies... It's likely the Space station's fault.

Legs :

Or equally mandatory foot out of not foot pieces. Here is a cursed homebrew way to make legs : one Bohrok head part (bricklink call these shoulders ?) to display the piston-like element and serve as structure, linked with Toa Metru legs (which slots above nicely. And then comes the magic trick, for the Rahkshi shells (silveragain, because I have many of these) have a small attachment point toward the end, that is meant to hold the back blades in place; but it also perfectly fits right on the small ledge in the middle of the leg piece ! Granted, it's not a very secure connection, but these two pieces don't need anything else but that to hold. I actually loved this one so much, you can notice two additional Rahkshi shells held similarly on the tope of the crab's shell.

In order to connect the legs individually to the frame, I am using Vahki legs for the exterior limbs, and Pihraka arms for the central ones (these arms have the particular property of having the restrictive sockets on either sides, which makes it good to keep the leg's shape.

The middle sections are made using two simple axle-socket pieces connected by old plates, usually found in technic sets predating the Bionicle them.

…And obviously, I had to make another makeshift studio (I actually really like this one). Have a look at all these terribly assembled elements !

[pocket-gems]

Did you ever think of having your own AU or series based off a gem?

Oh absolutely!!

Here are some old panels, they followed stories I really wanted to follow but hyperfixations come and go, my ADHD is mean and now that my device to draw is busted, simply drawing anything in general is a pain to my eyes. Before doing anything, I have to at the very least update the designs.

To make a gem series I have 2 options, Draco's or Blizzard's.

Dragon's Breath Opal's story is about discovery, exploration and love, follows more closely the canon story and blablabla here's the summary:

1-Shining Light

(Chevron gets lost on Earth's landscape and meets a lone Pearl)

2-The Escape

(Dragon's Breath Opal meets an Azurite, who forcefully removes Draco from Earth)

3-Divine Search

(Chevron, Pearl and Azurite decide they to recover an old friend)

4-Flash

(A Homeworld gem detects and follows our gang)

5- Transparent Crystal

(Draco and Azurite discover who really are the Crystal Gems)

6-Terrifying Agate

(Pearl's friend is found alongside someone thought shattered)

7-Roots

(Knowing who the Crystal Gems are, they decide to come back to Earth, thinking of it as a safe space)

It's all a WIP that I'd love to work on regardless of people liking it or not. I don't have much left on the To-do list for this to start ""production"" haha

Blizzard Stone is a VERY heavy-centred gem that I'm trying to update. The story is leaning towards sad with more mature tones. Story wise is pretty settled and ready to go BUT OH THE DESIGNS ARE NOT UPDATED OUGGHHHHHHH

About AUs, I don't care for them? I think I was very saturated of them back when people wouldn't stop doing AU edits with designs that just. Eh? The designs is what matter to me the most (as an absolute nerd of character design) and there's so much potential on putting on place Pink as White. Reverse the roles, push her toxic jester side, don't just make her look like White!

AUs just make me change designs because I don't get too deep into the lore or else I loose track. I can make silly edits at least. Very oddly specific, sorry :(

[astronomodome]

Alright I was asked to make a list of all the The Garages songs I associate with life series things so I have done that

A few notes:

Songs are in no particular order (mostly just sorted by album as I was going through listening to them all)

All song titles (in color) are links to the respective songs, so you can listen to them :3

These songs are all worth listening to but my absolute favorites are marked in orange

Let me know what you think! I’ve been waiting so long to talk extensively about this :)))))) <- going to explode

list is below the cut because this got loooong

Astro Astronomodome’s Garages Life Series Playlist:

Eyes in the Dark- *gestures vaguely* how am I gonna live with these eyes in the dark when they’re following me around and they’re following you around 👍 and there’s nowhere you can go that they’re not there 👍

Jaylen Hotdogfingers Settles The Score- limited life winner martyn in thy little wood I am so normal about you <- lie

Godspeed- TIES sending off Skizz… see you space cowboy

Curse of Crows- third life grian-core, you know, when he was green and couldn’t actually kill but he and scar were going around being vaguely threatening. You could maybe use the crows in this as a metaphor for red life scar. Also birds

Relief Pitcher (Leave It On The Field)- Extremely strong vibes but I’m not sure of what. Maybe last life martyn? In the final battle? Idk. Maybe every martyn. I ljke him. (anyway this song changed my brain chemistry permanently so it deserves a place in the list regardless)

rooting for you- I’m delusional, bdubs is a species of plant, and ethubs is wlw. what is a nature wives

we had a season- ok this is THE desert duo song. No song will ever end of double life we’ve-spent-so-much-time-dancing-around-each-other-and-now-we-have-nothing-left-but-each-other desert duo as hard as this song. I have a very detailed AMV in my head of this so you know I’m right. It’s even a duet… ‘we had a season, we had a year/between when I died and when I reappeared’ (there’s almost exactly a year between grian’s last third life episode and scar’s first double life episode. I checked for this reason specifically and it killed me instantly) PLEASE just listen to this one ‘I had my reasons, I had my fears/I had my pride (I still had tears in my eyes as I died)’

dead ringer- just as the previous song is The desert duo song, this is The red king ren song. It slaps and the vibes are perfect. ‘my skin is made of energy, my blood is made of fire/I am what will happen when your best-made plans backfire’

hexed- very much post-3rd life watcher grian. pretty self-explanatory

The Alternate- ‘I’m new but I’ve seen so much/I’m old but I was not there’ do I even need to say it. Gem-as-Cleo and Lizzie-as-Pearl (‘I’ve done this once before’)

gamer grindset- yeah this is The Life Series Joel Song. you can fight me on this but you don’t have to because I know I’m right

a leap of faith- reminds me of scar. nothing in particular it just has similar vibes

haunted- ok now this is a Real watcher grian kind of song. ‘my body is a temple/for the gods of other men/wielded as a weapon by foes I swore I’d never be again’ ok. edgy bird moment

she’s dead and i’m someone else- this one requires some interpretation but I’ve always seen it was team BEST mourning the loss of bdubs. However it could also be applied to almost every ten in the life series that lost a member early lol

Mike Townsend (feels the shadows call)- specifically last life shadow alliance martyn but any martyn in general fits. he’s having a bad time

INCINERATE- just like. Being on your red life in general and the bloodlust and manic energy that brings. 😛 (edit after the finale: OKAY I KNOW THERES SO MANY LIMITED LIFE MARTYN SONGS BUT THIS IS ALSO ONE OF THEM ‘I know how to win this/I don’t need to play your games/I’m just gonna dance now/I’ll show you how to deal with pain’ ‘every day’s getting worse and we’re starting to choke/‘cause the water in the air is getting stuck in our throats’ LIKE COME ON MAN)

Sidelined- limited life skizz you will always be famous ‘am I just another wash-out/am I damned to go out swinging/I can’t hear you from the dugout/is there anyone else singing for me’ I am singing! I am singing for you skizzleman!!!!!!!!!

Firewalker With Me- the song. The myth. The legend. It’s just such a great song and it’s about life series grian’s curse of killing the people he cares most about. Grian is a parker if you think about it <- mentally ill (special note- ‘nobody deserves to be called a curse/but if you’re gonna resist I’m happy to make things worse’ is grian accidentally getting jimmy final-killed first in limited life btw)

We’ve Got History- not to be that guy but desert duo. Ok

New Year, Same Me- martyn.

The Return- the start of a new life series! Seeing old friends again! Missing friends who couldn’t make it (cough cough martyn missing ren in limited life cough cough)! Playing the game! Living and loving despite the horrors!

A Horrible Mistake We Will Make Again And Again- grian grian grian. Grain. The bird boy. Also easily one of my favorite Garages song titles. ‘If I don’t know the limits, how am I gonna break them?/If you think that we’re kidding well then you’re sorely mistaken’

The First Ain’t The Last- canary curse activated! Honestly the entirety of this album is just the average life series lmao ‘and one day you’ll wake up/and from the ashes a phoenix will rise/and she’ll hit like a champ/and burn out bright before your eyes’

The Ballad of Unremarkable Derrick Krueger- another one that definitely has life series vibes (and is just a really good song) but that I just can’t place. I want to say Tango honestly because he always has been somewhat painfully mediocre and has famously always final-deathed in underwhelming and meaningless ways

Rise- this is the Cleo song. Epic. Thank you Cleo :) Joe can be the monitor in this scenario I think he’d be good at it

RIV- does anyone still remember that part of martyn’s last life lore where the mysterious voice was promising that he would get to see jimmy mumbo and impulse again if he followed its instructions? Well……

Hell’s Game- Blaseball is a death game and this song leans into that so naturally it fits pretty well with the life series as a whole. Would make a great AMV

5am Shift- Ok bear with me here. This doesn’t really fit Pearl other than the song title (lol) and maybe you can make some parallels to cleaning lady Pearl but it gives me her vibes. Plus it’s just a whole jazzy banger and one of my favorite songs so it’s going here anyway :)

Nullified- for the end of limited life. pretty self-explanatory ‘wasted all my minutes/trying to stay alive/and look where it got me/I’m just the last one nullified’ honestly worked better before the actual finale because martyn was more manic about it than this song would imply

STRIKEOUT!- life series mumbo my horrible wet cat. this song is a little weird but it suits him I think

The Tug- they never left the desert.

SUN 2- obligatory flower husbands song for all the flower husbands enjoyers out there. Time to go cry I guess

flooding/drowning- big impdubs moment. Or honestly just any of bdubs’s life series exes reminiscing… ‘and you’re angry when the energy rises to meet you/like the life rafts are disrespectful to the sea’ is the most life series bdubs thing I’ve ever heard

REMEMBERTHEM- very good and classic anti-watcher song. If c!martyn was just a little more aware of his situation I think this would fit better (honestly a lot of good garages songs just don’t fit very well because we haven’t quite reached the ‘let’s kill the watchers’ stage of the lore yet lmaooo)

Nothing Happens Every Day- tfw when no life series 🥺 could also be martyn because he loves to kill <3

historic season nine party time speedrun and associated records- mean gills vibes. a nice quiet evening in the coral isles, reminiscing

Mike Townsend Is A Disappointment- I’m so sorry Jimmy but it fits too well

Bonus! Hermitcraft-adjacent songs:

Storm’s Raging- moon big. the long, slow, inevitable end of the world. Bdubs looking up at the sky as it falls on him. the lyrics kick ass as well: ‘there were days when it all seemed never ending/when all you could hear was the forecasts, the fear/and the sound of the cloudline bending’ (and the way it speeds up at the end……. omg)

howling at twin moons- s8 scar. I will not elaborate

alaynabella hollywood- ariana griande <- wait who said that

golden- rentheking arc I love you :3 viva la revolution

Sincerely, The Collateral- hermitcitizen song tbh

Beep or Bleat- despite the EXTREMELY zedaph-coded song title this is actually end-of-season 8 tango moon landing-core. ‘do we possess a soul/does it exceed the speed of light/can it escape black holes/do we still have a chance to fight’

Nut Economy- another rentheking arc song. You can tell when I started watching HC from this can’t you. Well. Royal emeralds I miss you :(

Morning is Coming- HONESTLY if I had the ability to make AMVs this would be top of my list. It’s just so… so much. Escaping moon big at the end of season 8… I know it’s overdone at this point but it’s rotating around in my head all the time. What does it say about me that there are two moon big songs here and they’re both my favorites…

fourteen days is not enough for my screams to reach your ears- another tango lost in space at the end of season 8 song. it messed me up ok

psychoacoustics- I love convex* *DISCLAIMER: 99% of the convex knowledge I have comes from fan interpretation alone. Alternatively I could just be really trying to manifest a zedaph villain arc

oliver mueller (is a hero)- docm77 for several reasons which will become apparent almost immediately

hello world- grumbot I love you :] (putting in a different version so you can tell what the lyrics are without subtitles and I’m sorry because this version of the song is somewhat worse. they just start singing godspeed in the middle of it for some reason and like I’m not complaining I love that song but also why) (here’s the original version)

the entire kansas city breath mints team failed the bar exam- hermitcraft. no elaboration is necessary

[eimearkuopio]

I would absolutely be getting burned as a witch. I'm autistic, I have ADHD, I am a cis woman who suspects she may have a DSD but has decided it shouldn't fucking matter, I'm not the smartest person I've ever met but with no false modesty unless I'm in a situation with a highly biased sample I'm usually the smartest person in any given room, I'm opinionated and my opinions are actually pretty good AND subject to change when presented with new evidence in a way that my neurodivergent brain can process and I am allowed time to digest it, and I was born without fear and recent experiences have burned away the last traces of the fear that the people who love me went to great lengths to instil in me for my own good.

Here's one of my opinions. True, bone-deep, apparently irrational rage only comes from one of two things: fear, or pain. Fear is when you think anger can protect you from imagined future suffering. Pain is when you think anger can protect others from imagined future suffering. Anger from pain is righteous anger; it seeks to protect others from what you fear for them, instead of seeking to protect yourself.

Communication is key, because we are all difference and we all have different limitations to overcome and vulnerabilities we were either born with or had thrust upon us by a cruel world. The most bitter irony is that if we fail to communicate with the people we love about what they truly need protecting from, and instead harm ourselves by shielding them from the things we fear, we can do more harm than good. A mother with a fear of drowning who births a mermaid will spend her whole life clinging to her child instead of controlling her fear and letting the child swim. You can't drown a mermaid; but you can drown yourself trying to save one, or become nothing but a millstone around the neck of someone who can thrive in what you fear. Even if your strange half-human half-fish child can survive on land, she cannot thrive without the sea; and just because you fear the storms and the pirates, you are not protecting one who can dive into the serene depths by forcing her to limit herself to what you feel is safe. There are dangers in the deep, but she knows the way and has no fear and is willing to brave them to find pearls of great price. Her soul cries out, BE NOT AFRAID; not because there is nothing in the world to fear, but because fear forces us only to listen to our instincts, not our minds and our hearts, and instincts are for surviving in the moment, not for building a life where the true dangers are fewer and further between.

In other words, they would have tried to drown me as a witch; and when they failed, they probably would have killed me anyway. Better to swim away than to let them burn; but I couldn't do that to the people I would have left behind. I survived your stupid test. I'm not a witch. I'm admittedly not entirely sure what I am, but I would prefer that you not burn me or any others like me you happen to find. I'm honestly not sure what the end result would be for either of us, but I've read enough of the rule books to be pretty sure you're all claiming house rules are canon just because your heavily edited version of the rule book says so. I'm not claiming I'm recreating Rules As Written, or even that doing so is a goal we should aim for; but I do think I've spotted a few contradictions in the law that I would like us to overcome together, and I'm not the first New Man and I really hope I'm not the first New Woman but I am really hoping someone at least has a less dog-eared copy of the house rules they might be willing to discuss with me?

[visenyatargaryn]

BLACK SAILS REWATCH: EPISODE II

Odysseus, on his journey home to Ithaca, was visited by a ghost. The ghost tells him that once he reaches his home, once he slays all his enemies and sets his house in order, he must do one last thing before he can rest. The ghost tells him to pick up an oar and walk inland, and keep walking until somebody mistakes that oar for a shovel. For that would be the place that no man had ever been troubled by the sea, and that’s where he’d find peace. In the end that’s all I want. To walk away from the sea and find some peace.

[yuikomorii]

Admin I absolutely LOVE the outfits you give Yui and I wish she had that fashion sense! Even so, have you ever thought of rating Yui’s official outfits? I would love to hear your opinion♡

// Aww, thank you! I've always been interested in fashion, so I guess I'm trying to give Yui things that will suit her best. Also, sure, sounds fun! (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)

1. Dark Fate

This is probably a very popular opinion, Yui's best outfit is without a doubt her DF one! It actually looks modern and like something a teenager would truly wear. The high-waisted shorts definitely flatter Yui's figure, and I love how her shoes and socks match her shorts and blouse perfectly!

2. Lost Eden

Everyone knows I'm not a big fan of LE, but I have to admit that this outfit looks great on her! Maybe I'm just saying that because many girls here, including myself, dress like that, and even though it's very simple, it has a fresh vibe to it! My only complaint is that the skirt is far too short, which wouldn't normally be a problem but Yui is Miss Clumsy and falls down numerous times in LE (and in general), so I get second-hand embarrassment, lol.

3. Chaos Lineage

I'm a huge pink lover, I like how they made her outfit look formal but really comfortable. The dress gives me vintage vibes, which is a plus, and I love the socks and shoes; look at those cute pearls! Overall, the outfit is good, but I would have preferred it if they gave Yui a blazer to make it look less plain in comparison to the Diaboys' attires.

4. Vandead Carnival

This outfit is definitely… something. It’s not ugly for sure but it simply doesn’t give me Yui vibes. I’m not saying Yui has to only dress in pink, and it’s not like she’s canonically stylish either but those colors are way too dull for her. I believe it would have looked better if she tucked that shirt in that baggy skirt. Perhaps not wearing black leggings and having different shoes would have saved this outfit? At least it looks alright in cgs.

5. Lunatic Parade

I’m feeling bad for rating this one so low because I love LP so much but this outfit isn’t the best choice for her. Both pieces of clothing aren't bad; in fact, I like the ribbons on the jacket; however, the colors don't really suit Yui. Perhaps it isn't very visible here because promotional pictures are always brighter, but Yui's skin in the game has warm tones, and in some cgs, her skin and hair are exactly the same color as the dress, which doesn't give me an aesthetically pleasing image at all, since it’s way too… dry. Also, why were those black thigh-high socks included? It also bothers me that the shoes don't go with anything.

6. Haunted Dark Bridal/More Blood

Come on everyone, let’s act surprised! I already mentioned why I dislike this outfit but I’ll do it again. The pieces of clothing aren’t that hideous, the sweater would have been sort of cute if she took a high waisted skirt and tucked it there. As for the shorts, they are… okay? They would have worked better with plenty of shirts. Adding those orange/light-brown boots was atrocious, it’s not that they’re ugly, they just make the outfit look chaotic because pink, brown and orange isn’t really the most fitting combination for Yui.

(I remember editing once a full body version but I can’t find it anymore PAIN)

I wanted to include the school uniforms and other outfits, but the ones shown above appear in most cgs, after all. Still, I adore her black uniform; it makes Yui look really good! 💕

[kthynes]

infliction

18+

Steve comes to you as a broken man.

sin and sorrow masterlist

warnings: course language, brief mentions of blood. Falsified death. Mafia dealings and volition. Angst, pent up aggression, familial resentment.

word count: 4.3k

pairing: mob!Steve x CEO!fem reader; mentions of a Senator!Andy Barber

authors note: big shoutout to the one nonnie who kept checking back on this mini mosh series. I remember your asks every time I go in to edit and write this piece. I appreciate you so very much and I hope that you (and anyone else reading) enjoy this spin out of a story xxxx

This has not been beta’d. Any mistakes are my own.

Ever since the club ordeal, you never heard back from Steve that night onwards. The days turned into months and your forefronted help wasn’t needed after all. Albeit, you still forged his tax returns and balanced a mountainous amount of cheques. Business went on as per usual. He didn’t ask for you. Call on you. Or even arrange a follow up. You were, for the most part, left alone.

So why did you feel indebted? Expectant almost?

“Fuck.” You were dry shaving despite routine. Egregious by will, you agreed to be somewhat presentable and astute. Not that it required much.

“Please tell me you’re ready.” Cyrah, your best friend of uncountable years, laments loudly over the phone. She’s set you up with a hot date, an attorney turned Senator from Boston, another townie recalled for your commiseratation. You knew very little about this man, except for the fact that he was 6’2 and a dom. You were reluctantly sold on a sex dream, behest your devotion to being single and independent.

“Y/N!”

You wince, noticing traces of blood smearing against the dull razor and your chafed Achilles’ tendon. It’s agonizing to say that beauty is pain when all you wanted to do was drop dead.

“You know what…” You pitch while aggressively chucking things away in your lavish ensuite. First the ruddy razor, then the wet cloth. You surrender your truce. The hem of your dress is hitched up and over your thong clad ass, feeling an expected breeze as you wipe down your sandpaper legs with a towel.

“This’ll do. This will have to do.” You proclaim to yourself, half done up while knocking back the rest of your Cabernet. “I’m dressed. My makeup is on, whitening strips off. Completely hairless. Pussy poppin’—“

“You did not just say that.” She cackles.

The overheated phone goes from one ear to another. “God, I don’t know what it is that I can say or do that’ll get me out of this.”

“Funny. What’s going on, babes?” She softly patronizes.

“I’m being serious Cy. There isn’t a bone in my body that feels good right now.” Premonition maybe?

“It’s just a date, Y/N. Not a debilitating disease. You have absolutely nothing to lose.” Her voice follows you out to a lonelier precipice.

“Easy for you to say, you’re always playing a new man every night.” You grovel, pacing out of one room and to another. You were looking for something, although forgetfulness is a constant woe.

“So I’ve retired. Now FaceTime me. I wanna see the full haute couture.”

You stalk around your penthouse loft and finally set the ringing phone down on the small half table by the door. Following a lungful exhale, you step back to adjust your stance in an elongated satin pearl white dress. The spaghetti straps were tied up in small little bows which then drew attention to your cleavage and shapely figure. The hot pink strappy, wrap around heels made you stand taller than intended and that was enough to throw Cyrah into a fraternizing fit.

“Damn girl, look at you. And those shoes!” She appears nose first into the screen, squinty eyed and speculative.

“Stuart Weitzman.”

“Pftttt like I’d know! Turn around.” You shamelessly do a 360 for her, hands pivoting in the air as if the Queen of England could’ve done any better. “Ass, ass, hot ass!”

“All thanks to Dalton.” You mention your faithful trainer. Cyrah tuts, hooting on about her dislike for gyms and fitness. There’s some silence as you get adjusted, scampering for your tennis bracket and rings and then finding a moment to put on some earrings. Your ornate ability to play nice has Cyrah grinning from ear to ear. She knows you were going to put out. It’s been a long time coming. Even all of Sinderson had their stock money on it.

“I’m going to head out soon but I do owe you for this.”

“Just have fun and we’ll call it even.” Cyrah abids in the distance.

You pause to make a face, opening your mouth to say something crucial before getting startled by a loud, ceremonious bang. The door rattles off its hinges when a succession of impatient knocks erupts through the annex. The phone falls flat against the glass countertop, shielding Cyrah into darkness.

“What the fuck was that?”

“I have no idea.” You answer, brows drawn together.

“Y/N do you need back up?”

“It’s fine.” You calmly state following a voice that, in any circumstances, was the most recognizable.

“Open up!” An unrelenting pupil called out while roughly wiggling the brass knob. You barely get the door open when two men finally barge in.

“Oh good you’re home.” Bucky hisses, impaled by the infractions of his own dismay. He’s lugging around another man who looks to be in terrible shape. He’s hunched over, a hand clutching his side. Bloodied and bruised.

“What are you doing here James?” You stand afar while becoming a stranger in your own home. Bucky deposits the wounded man onto the sectional, giving you a clear sight of Steve. Your insides twist into an undoable knot. He tries to sit up, neck tilted back as his eyes glaze over the ceiling moulding, chest rising and falling.

“Oh my god, is he OK?” You don’t recognize the discerning pitch in your tone, eyes wide open, mouth agape.

“See Buck, I told you she’d give a shit.” Steve adds weakly. It’s the first time you see him like this. Hurt, powerless and at mercy. The deafening perils of his own doings were finally catching up to him. And now you’re reaping those repercussions as well.

“Never thought I’d see the day of light,” You mutter, rushing to his side like a willing assailant.

“Now there’s a lie.” The chary look on his face lulls when you place a hand over his. He’s sprawled back, knees apart, breath baited as your eyes meet. There’s some tenseness, deliberation. Every iota behind Steve’s aquatic blue eyes swirled with contemplation, crinkling in the corners to conceal the throbbing pain.

“Let me see.”

There isn’t a word said otherwise as you begin to move his rigid hand away from the side of his soiled white Givenchy dress shirt.

He groans a firm ‘easy’ that ruminates every sensation. Steve tips his head back, surrendering a bloody palm that lays flat on this thigh.

“Unbelievable.” You enunciate, inspecting a half open wound. Fresh blood defaces the fabric of your dress as you lean in to take a closer look. Maimed with a bit of dry and glistening gore, you couldn’t look away. There’s an enticing allure that keeps you focused.

“You look nice.” He murmurs right in your hair, taking in the sweet nostalgic scent of white floral and patchouli that placates his senses for a fleeting moment.

You peer up at him, nose to nose, eyes feigning your innocence that quickly shuns him.

“Of all the things you could say to me right now.” Steve weeds a delicate smile, forcibly extricating his need to hold you close. His likeness grew fond and strong. He was sure enough that you were his woman. But for now he’d have to shelf that thought out of delirium, letting his eyes fall shut again.

“We need you to watch him.” Bucky sweeps through your studio with zero regard, checking behind every chiffon curtain and balcony window that takes up half the space.

“She’s not doing anything.” Cyrah intercepts. She was still on the line. Thank god.

“Cyrah, long time, no fuck.” He booms from one room and into another, grabbing your unattended phone with him.

“Leave her alone Buck.” She says a little too wearily. They start to have a more serious conversation as Bucky rounds the guest room, keeping his tone at ease.

“So who was it this time?” You calmly inquired in private while seated on the edge of your seat. Anger wasn’t your prized countenance but with Steve it was a permanent one.

“Couldn’t tell you.” He cat stretches himself out on the couch, almost pulling you in with him.

“What ever happened to the bloody knuckle rule?” You reflexively move back.

“Oh angel, you gotta take a hit every now and then.” He harrumphed, arms slung over the couch top as if he were being crucified. He turns his head over slightly, besting his predicament with some factuality and sarcasm that you don’t see for. “Though this time it was a stray bullet… Undecided between the head and the heart.” He laughs.

You emote a million different emotions, shoulders sulking with pitiful dread. A soft, pathetic ‘oh my god’ escapes your lips.

“It doesn’t feel as bad as it looks, I promise.” He falters, just as concerned for you.

“He needs to be admitted to a hospital.” You advocate.

“Bruce is on his way.” Bucky appears from the hidden troves and tosses your phone onto the couch cushion next to you. “He should be able to take care of this.”

“I think my little sparrows got it.” Steve teases in a daze, deliberately wanting your soft hands to nurse him back to good health. You’re a bit uncomfortable.

“How far away is he?” You inquire.

“Zipping down Adelaide as we speak.”

“Great, then I’ll make myself useful elsewhere.” You get up on your feet feeling ten times heavier than before.

“That won’t be necessary.” Bucky cautions.

“Stay.” Steve softly pleads. Your gaze bounces from the two men, incredulous.

“This is incriminating.” You fathom.

“So be it… Sam and Nat have the area covered. But for now we need you here.” Bucky demanded while keeping surveillance. Your silence earns a catalytic eyeful. “Can you do that?”

“Bucky.” You give your fondest nemesis a sideways look. He mirrors the same hardened expression to no avail.

“Please, Y/N. This isn’t me asking.”

🩸

It’s for certain that if you fully let yourself go then you’re just like him but worse. Every part of you spited the New York gangland and being a seldom ally was unfavourable to repent. You were essentially stuck in a tax bracket, piling on a different reputation for yourself and being an absolute phoney at it.

But as the admonitory saying went—Do as he says. Not as he does.

"He should be fine now.” Bruce appears before you, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose while passing you a grave look. You stand right by the corridor, leaning against the wall adjacent to the guest bedroom. Unmoved throughout the night, your lips press into a fine line, motioning him with a carefully longing demure.

“The stitches are somewhat tight so make sure he’s not being riled up which I believe requires you to hold your tongue for once.” He tuts, completely jaded by the ordinary. You glare at him, jaw shifting. “Otherwise, bed rest and plenty of fluids should get him going.”

“For how long?”

“Could be a couple of days, given the fact that he nearly suffered from major blood loss and acute sepsis.” Bruce walks you out to the dimly lit living room, standing at a safe distance as he searches and gathers his belongings.

“Oh my god.” You proclaim, a hand pressed to your forehead.

“Not to worry, I’ll check up on him throughout the week and there’ll be a nurse on standby to dress the wound and run vitals as needed.” He tugs on his ear mid-thought. “Also no painkillers, just a double cask.”

Your face drops. He softly chuckles.

“I’m just messing with you. He's only on local anesthetic which should be wearing off soon.”

“Great.” You grumble.

Bruce unrolls each shirt sleeve with precision, stalling in silence. “So I’m guessing he didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what exactly?”

“He has a warrant out for him.” He meets your leery gaze, enticed by your fleeting ingenuity.

“The NYPD has a ‘no say, no tell’ matter of course. They usually don’t interfere in his business.”

“Sure. If that’s what you think.” He answers, sardonic and reproachful.

You take a few short steps, closing in on him while categorically choosing your words.

“What am I supposed to know?” You challenge at a calmer stance.

“There are some documents that I need you to look over and act as a witness to.” He explains while rummaging through his satchel. You simply nod, thinking very little. “They’re sort of… official.”

“That’s it?”

“Take a look and see for yourself.” He urges while handing over the Manila folder. In the partially sealed envelope there’s a small bundle of documents and prurient detail that glazes past your scope of thought. That is until your eyes land on the last page. Your heart races in your throat, stomach churning at the words embossed in courier M font.

Medical death certificate.

“What the fuck?” You whisper yell, frantically looking up at the chief doctor himself. “This can’t be legitimate.”

“No, it's temporary avoidance.”

“That much I figured.” You huff with buoyant frustration, flinging the notice far from your reach. The sealed documents land on the rug by the coffee table. A careless reckoning that you refused to fall accomplice to. “Why’s he doing this?”

“You’re better off asking him yourself.” Bruce’s time is honoured as you walk him to the door, slowly stopping at the marbled landing.

“Who am I to him?” You rebut.

He scoffs, getting on his proverbial high horse that reminds you of your place. “You are the neck that turns his head.”

Wrong.

“Thank you… for everything.” You snap, holding the door wide open.

“Of course.” He nods before biding his time elsewhere.

🩸

At the break of dawn you finally decided to creep into the guest room. Making your presence small while surrounded by eye blinking darkness. You’re overcome. Angry and devoid. You were…

“You’re awake.” Steve incites in a deep sleepy baritone, buried under a swamp of sheets that quietly rustle. You suck in a deep breath, offloading your disarmament with fervour. You hated every bit of confrontation yet here you were, in the lion's den.

“Couldn’t really sleep.” You answer.

“Come lay down with me then.” He infers. There’s a slight air of confidence as he begins to readjust himself against the quilted upholstery.

Through his struggle you didn’t flinch to help. He had it down to a contentious science. Hurt and almost boastful, he finally slumped against the headboard, staring at you dead in the eyes.

“You did this on purpose.” You finally retaliate.

“Angel…”

“I’ve bear witness to a lot of things but this…” you flap the folder for show. “This isn’t my call.”

“Nor is it your concern.” He hisses. “I just need you—”

“Need me to what, huh?”

“Just be with me.” He groans, eyes screwed shut as he tries to get comfortable.

“I’m not for you Steve.” You patronize him, longingly.

“I guess not.” He spitefully surrenders, coughing a lungful that rasps every manageable word. “Fucked if I do. Fucked if I don’t.”

You’re back on your feet, getting him water before sitting back down on the edge of the bed.

“Is my father after you?” You ask, watching him take shallow sips of water in a daze.

“I wish.” He gully answers. Steve doesn’t keep in touch with your father despite his satirizing tendencies. The two men stay at arms length of the other for reasons that have your best interest at heart. It’s honorific actually.

“Tony?”

“No.” He enunciates, watching your beautiful expressions flummox some more.

“HYDRA?” You quirk.

“Are we going off the roaster now?” He finally sets the empty tumbler aside, showing off his trivially healthy physique.

“Might as well.”

Steve sighs, looking gravely inept. He’s always admired your tenacious spirit that tests his hard kept valour.

“My father wants to reign his own dynasty.” He claims. “My dynasty.”

“All of sudden?” You ebb with confusion, leaning into the conversation with concern.

Steve was a mob man from infancy. A glock thrust in hand, he’s never known another honest way of life. So this came as a surprise, an inimical one to privy.

“Well that’a because I picked a bone with him.”

“Steve.”

“Son of a gun decided to get remarried and so without will or way, there’s been some inheritance pandering.” Steve’s been escrowed for his existence and every second meant that he’d be held financially culpable. Something he’s never had to consider till now.

“That’s… wait what?” Your thoughts consume you. A million to one.

“Be my eyes and ears.” He calmly pursues. This time he was being sincere. “See what’s being moved around, scope out the infiltrator.”

You shake your head, befuddled. “We talked about this months ago, Steve. You need a benefactor.”

“Which is where you come in.” He calmly adjourns. “I’ve seen your track record and you move money better than any other capitalist institution out there. If you can forge and freeze my accounts then I can go ahead and acquire my shares.”

“If it were that easy. Why don’t you offer a pay out? Even a collateral?” You rack out all the possibilities.

“Not a chance.” He hisses as the pain resurges.

“You have land, ammunition. How about pawning off those useless boats down by the harbour?”

“I’m a made man, Angel.” He forewarned. “Nothing goes.”

“With an ego at that.” You scoff to yourself. “I’m just in the way.”

“Then stay as you are.” One too many intercessions kept Steve away from you. Not this time around.

“I have an early morning so I’m going to turn myself in.” You begin as his eyes follow your quick upward ascent. “If there’s anything you might need, just knock on the wall behind you.”

“Do I scare you?”

You freeze, tailbone pressed against the bedpost as your feet barely touch the floor rug. Steve’s ingenuity was starkly contrasted by the bruising on the side of his face. His brows drawn together formed a grimace altogether. Some days this look would make sense but right now it paralyzed you with unsureness.

“No.” Your response is almost immediate. It cuts through him as he discernibly takes in your cold defensive demeanour.

“So how can I make this easier on you?” He pageants on the low.

“By doing the right thing.”

He exhales, shaking his head. “We’ve been in this together for the long run, Angel. If anything, your moral code is a bit convoluted, don’t you think?”

“Maybe I’m finally coming to my senses. Better late than never right?” You retort, reminding him of the many wayward instances that you’ve been at his beck and call. Immune to the worst possible scenarios. A be all, end all.

“Maybe.” He growls. “But when have I ever let you down?”

“There can be many firsts.” You assure. Knowing Steve for nearly four years meant Jack shit. He’d still run you to your wits end and be covetous about it. Who were you to take any chances?

“I wouldn’t see for it.” A disproportionate smile graces his lips as you land on your feet and pad across the room, scouring the dormant abode, high and low.

“You have far more potential than who you are and who you choose to be in this lifetime.” You say while peering through the rod pocket curtains that overlooks an empty south side lot and an unmarked Escalade in tow. Natasha.

“You’re not a preacher's kid to tell me that.”

You exhale loudly, drawing back from the windowsill and the lingering chill. “No but I have every right to tell you how it is.”

“Look at you.” Steve begins a fixated taunt. “It’s as if you care.”

“You’re dead to me.” You snarl, rounding the room in distracted fashion. “Gone.”

“And that right there is the plan.” He points while meandering a mirthless chuckle.

“I’ll keep the door open just in case.” You curtly state from the doorframe, sound on leaving.

Steve keeps to himself. There’s nothing he can say or add to that’ll appease the situation. It was a lost cause. He wasn’t on your side and your jarring discretion told him just that.

“You have me when you need me. That’s it.” Upon hearing this Steve’s jaw ticks. The way you said it roused some frustration. But by the next second you were already out of the guest room and in the cold abyss of your own bedroom. You exhale loud and long, shutting the door right behind you.

Steve was presumed dead. Trouble was assailing. Your father would definitely catch wind of the ordeal and call upon a sermon. You couldn’t face him or the fact that you had to answer to Steve’s attorney, suppliers, his father and family who were going to be at your neck once you made your requests on his behalf.

The underworld was now your surrendering. Every timely plight became something more undetermined. Dangerous enough to keep you on edge, let alone alive.

You truly couldn’t scathe past this.

🩸

The kitchen was spotless. The windows were sprung open. Everything was back in its original place like a pristine IKEA catalogue. You’ve salvaged your couch cushions whereas your favourite pearl satin dress was bloodied and slung over in a body bag. You’ve fallen into another day's routine. There’s a grave look on your face that replays your contemplation. Rush hour traffic and now a lurking presence keeps you a foot.

“Would you like some coffee?” You ask while absently stirring some Christmas creamer in your mug.

“If it’s on you then sure.”

“Nothing is on me.” You grit and boy did Steve wish that statement held some water. He grins as you turn around and flail an arm towards the kitchenette. “Please help yourself.”

“Are you always going to fight me?” He humours, looking lascivious in a plain white tee and sweats while limping towards you. Even in his wounded state he somehow looked affably fuckable. Don’t go there Y/N.

“Yes.” You say into your mug.

“Good to know.” He stands before you at an astonishing height. He’s close, crooning with high strung arrogance and expectancy. You were in the way, so very intoxicated by his emblematic scent that his inquest ambushes you. “Do you mind?”

Fuck me.

“No! Not at all, please have at it.” You recomposed and scurried away. He grins, watching your every move as a sign of bridled grace.

You found a niche little corner to awkwardly occupy. The proctored silence is overwhelming. Steve looks through each cabinet and grabs himself a mug to inspect. He’s making himself right at home as you pander business.

“Bucky called.”

Steve looks over his broad shoulder, brows raised while simultaneously pouring coffee into a Mickey Mouse shaped mug. “There’s a safe house down in Port Hope. You’ll be there and I’ll come to you.”

“That’s not how it’s gonna work.” He rebuts, taking his coffee black and choosing to be an authoritative piece of shit.

“What?”

“I’ll get you, wait on you if there’s counsel. Be a so-called gentleman on the lookout.” He mutters. You prime him with a disapproving look. “I need you to be on your own and as unassuming as possible.”

Steve was trying to protect you at best even though other circumstances led him to believe that you were his ride or die.

“Okay fine.” You concur. “What else?”

“You’ll be in touch with Alfie shortly. He’s got a slew of paperwork to go over with you before the press catches wind.” Alfie Ross, a disbarred lawyer who’s been doing shoddy charitable work on Steve’s payroll since the turn of a new decade. Your interactions with him have always been liminal and now your hands pushed paper just for them.

“Sure.” Steve continued to talk at you, foreseeing every partial detail on a grander scheme. You had about 30 minutes of listening capacity before you left for work. 28 minutes were up.

“This is all on me, Y/N.” He concludes with a seldom promise. Your gaze narrows while gathering your purse strings, initially adamant on leaving but then keen on his saviour like vocation. “My father will want answers and he’ll be conniving at that. But you’re my girl. You’re right here with me and so your safety is my top priority.”

“Right from the horse's mouth...” You deadpan while reaching for your phone. “Work calls. Do you think you’ll be OK on your own?”

“I’ll be fine.” He assesses your urgency with coyness, taking another large sip of coffee that deepens his tone. “Now go on. Be a ‘girl boss.’ Or a finance bro, I’m sure they’re a type.”

“Not mine.” You scoff already halfway out the door.

He continues to muse. “I’m sure there’s a rerun of Growing Pains on channel 6.”

“No visitors.” You stop to remind him.

“Oh yeah?” He quips while plopping himself on the chaise. The pain swelters a bit before he grunts, driving another hypothetical wedge. “What ‘bout that Andy fella?”

Steve knew everything there is to know about you and how you were waned into random impromptu date nights with men that were not him.

“He’s long gone. Not that it’s any of your business.” You sass and Steve is happy with himself, aimlessly flipping through the channels as you locked up to his soundly farewell.

“Have a good day, Angel.” He’d get to you some day and you’d be right there with him. Timing meant waiting. But it also meant everything.

[yeschefthankyouchef]

i’m so perplexed right now because i LOVED this chapter but i’m also going to HATE the consequences of this chapter sjsjsjsjsjsjsj. gonna have to revisit this domesticity when the storm that this is going to cause actually hits.

“Donna’s cry’s had been relegated to silent sobs just moments ago, you watched as Nat put her own hurt and discomfort aside to assuage Donna’s nerves”

oh god not the funeral…. i’m not brave enough for this - the show spared me but i should’ve known that you wouldn’t sksjsjsjs

“Eva’s small head rested against yours playing with the pearls around your neck, the small girl could only understand so much of what was going on around her.”

this is such a soft moment in such a dark time and i’m living for the contrast.

“It was sudden, unexpected, and messy and it wasn’t the death Michael deserved. But what made it all the worse for you is that he was utterly and terribly alone.”

jfc it’s not even 10 AM and i’m bawling on the couch - that must be a new record.

“you couldn’t help but let your mind wander to all the things you could’ve done to save Mikey from himself.”

the absolute most dangerous pipeline to follow but also inevitable for baby unfortunately

“The warm grasp of his hand gave you the strength to turn your back and walk away from a man whose love, charisma, and smile you would never be blessed to see or experience again.”

i feel so attacked rn - i think i need to be billing you for my therapy. this was everything i imagined i would feel from a funeral scene but also somehow so much more gut wrenching at the same time.

“The only difference had been the program he received in the mail a week ago.”

damn. he didn’t even go? this is so on brand for him yet i also get why he wouldn’t want to go? but also hes simply never there for the people around him when they need him the most.

“not thinking about the ways his actions would affect those around him, affect the people who loved him.”

the way these traits so often run in the family…. carmy you need to look in the mirror before you’re even more sad and alone than you already are

“Carmy removed his phone from his pocket, the generic lock screen shining up at him with the time reading 2:30 am.”

oh my god is it baby? it has to be baby

“Carmy’s head nodded rapidly, staying glued to his spot for a moment before he signaled for you to follow him”

he is so ‘why so many word when few word do trick’ coded

“The shower gel is the same brand you used all those years ago on Christmas”

i know this is a serious moment of contemplation for baby but this just made me laugh so. hard. THIS is so on brand - man finds a product he likes and never strays again. *edit - OH MY GOD IT WOULD BE LAVENDER TOO WHY AM I CACKLING

“The deja vu the last few sequences of events had given you hadn’t gone unnoticed.”

yeah it painfully didn’t go unnoticed - fuck youuuuuuuu(lovingly)

“to see you looking as though you belonged with him in his bland apartment the clothes comfortably sitting on your body providing him with a feeling of domesticity he was one day hoping to have with you.”

the way he can still have that domesticity if he just pulled his head out of his ass, smdh

“Yo, what the fuck Baby,”

listen when she cut her hand i was so excited because ✨oooooh he’s gonna bandage her up✨ and the absolute sass is making it 1000x better. their banter gives me life lol

“It was official that you were weak for this man, the demanding tone in his voice shooting straight through you.”

she just like me fr

“he was unnerved as well because he wasn’t sure if this was love or infatuation.”

he is so stupid it pains me, ITS BEEN YEARS MY BOY!!! he is such a self saboteur

“Carmy held you in his arms he decided that he would try to give you pieces of himself that no one had ever seen; even if it would all end in hours.”

the way he’s so capable of being what she deserves but puts an expiration date on it anyways - i want to slap him into next week

“Did you maybe wanna join me,”

omg it’s a date

“Listen, boy, you can lie to yourself, but you can’t lie to me. And I know you betta not be lying to that pretty girl over there.”

going to draft willie into my war against carmy being a fucking numbnut

“I want you to put on that pretty little dress you were gushing about on the way home”“Can you do that for me?”

i need him to shut the fuck up because i’m about to go full whore

“Can I,” Carmy paused a laugh escaping his lips at the similarities between this moment and a past one you shared. “Can I kiss you?” 

AGHHHHHT THINGS ARE GETTING LUKEWARM!!!! it’s still so bittersweet tho bc i know he’s going to go back to being a grade a asshole once she leaves new york. for how many times he’s acted like he’s changed he’s really giving her trust issues

“Carmen,” you waited for him to lock eyes with you, a sad smile spread across your features, tears you could no longer hold back coming forth. “I know.” 

i can’t even blame baby because i know i would let this man emotionally destroy me a thousand times over

“Please…I want this…with you.” The words unsaid weighing heavily between you two.”

oh my god my brain is malfunctioning, i truly am in awe that this is your first time writing smut

“You would come to regret the consequences of this decision later”

SAY IT AINT SO….. oh god the way my stomach dropped…

“Your arm was thrown over your face the fact that the two of you were in this position at all still mind blowing”

SHUT UP THIS IS WHERE THE POLAROID SYD SAW CAME FROM?!!!!

“He could go one day without his signature chain that he had so lovingly placed around your delicate neck.”

miss ma’am you lied to me - things got more than lukewarm in this kitchen!!!! now they need to translate this energy into present day!!! god i’m breathing so heavy about this line alone.

interlude two | anyone who had a heart

masterlist | ↢ previous chapter | next chapter ↣ |

pairing: carmy x fem!reader | platonic!richie jerimovich x fem!reader | carmen berzatto x his delusions | carmen berzatto x self-sabotage | fem!reader x weakness for short slutty men with blue eyes | fem!reader x slutty gold chains | fem!reader x BEING FUCKING WEAK FOR SMARMY CARMY |

summary: the devastion of mikey's passing pushes baby into the arms of the man she loves the most.

warning(s): death | grief | funeral | refusal to grieve | denial | kinda delusional behavior | unhealthy coping mechanisms | angst | fluff | longing | mutual pining | idiots in love | love drunk carmy | probably ooc!carmy | wise willie | zero accuracy regarding new york | baby letting men pump and dump her | SMUT | P IN V | UNPROTECTED SEX | SOFT!DOM READER | VANILLA SEX | EMOTIONAL TENDER SEX |

wc: 17.3k

edited to the best of my abilities. if things don't make sense i apologize!

March 1, 2022

The rain rhythmically bounced off the umbrella in Richie’s hand. Both of you huddled under the slightly too-small object, the majority of your bodies dry, but each of you felt your fair share of rain land squarely on you. The child in front of you, dry as a desert, her small stature an advantage.

All that could be heard was nature's tears singing against the various umbrellas and the voice of the priest that seemed to just drone on and on.

Donna’s cry’s had been relegated to silent sobs just moments ago, you watched as Nat put her own hurt and discomfort aside to assuage Donna’s nerves.

You had all but ignored the empty seat situated next to Natalie, not wanting to believe the truth of the situation. As you stared at the coffin resting several feet in front of you, you couldn’t help but wonder what the cold lifeless body lying inside looked like. You knew there was only so much that could be done to make a body with a hole in its head presentable, and that a closed-casket funeral was for the best.

It was selfish, but you wanted one last look at Mikey. Did he look peaceful? Was he finally freed from the vices that had for so long controlled him? You so hoped that wherever he was, wherever his soul found its spiritual comforts he was at peace.

A tug on the sleeve of your coat drew your attention. Looking down your eyes met Eva's, the little girl insisted on standing with you, her small toddler hand securely wrapped in your adult one. It felt a little odd to be standing here like this, a buffer between a family that was no more, while also serving as the memory of one family’s missing piece.

She raised her arms in a signal to be picked up. Funerals were no place for children to be, but what good was lying to them about the realities of life? You gently lifted her into your arms sitting her on your hip comfortably. Eva’s small head rested against yours playing with the pearls around your neck, the small girl could only understand so much of what was going on around her.

You felt Tiff step closer to you, arm wrapping around your waist so she leaned into Eva’s back. The comfort of the small family surrounding you keeps you grounded to the moment in front of you, not allowing your mind to think of the pain Mikey must’ve been in, or the voicemail that had gone unchecked for the past week.

Funerals were a funny thing for you, the last one you attended was your mom’s. And it wasn’t a competition, but her death was easier. That’s the thing with terminal illness; death is inevitable. You would never be prepared for any death in your life, but it was a bit easier knowing your mom didn’t have a fighting chance. Her decision to leave this realm behind was harder, but knowing her passing was painless and of her own volition helped.

But Mikey’s death was different. It was sudden, unexpected, and messy and it wasn’t the death Michael deserved. But what made it all the worse for you is that he was utterly and terribly alone.

And it wasn’t like anyone wasn’t privy to his substance abuse, but none of you knew the depths to which it ate away at him, how it slowly killed him and he kept pushing on for the sake of others.

Maybe you should’ve asked him more about how he was doing when you interviewed him. Maybe you shouldn’t have sent him a portion of your article. Standing at the cemetery as the funeral continued, even with little Eva cuddling into you and Tiff and Richie surrounding you; you couldn’t help but let your mind wander to all the things you could’ve done to save Mikey from himself.

Eva was asleep against your chest as you made your way to the fresh grave, Tiff in front of you and Richie closely behind doing his best to cover your small group with the umbrella. The rain hadn’t let up as you raised your dirt-filled hand over the pristine casket, this didn’t feel right at all. You had yet to cry since Sugar called you days ago with the news, it felt as though you were numb to the truth. Maybe it was your mind's way of protecting you.

But as long as the casket remained closed, and you never got one last peek at the man who had taught you that you deserved more than what you settled for. You could pretend for just a little longer that none of this was real.

Releasing your grip on the dirt you watched as it splashed across the top of the casket mixing with the droplets of rain. You hesitated for a minute turning your back on this casket felt too final, like leaving this cemetery would be closing a door in your life you were desperate to keep open.

Richie’s free hand came up to your shoulder, a soft squeeze pressed into your jacket. You looked back at him the same hurt and pain you were feeling reflected on his face. He gave you a small nod as a way to let you know that it was okay to walk away, that he understood the hurt you were feeling.

As Tiff walked off to her car, you held Eva in one hand and allowed Richie to grip your other. The warm grasp of his hand gave you the strength to turn your back and walk away from a man whose love, charisma, and smile you would never be blessed to see or experience again.

March 12, 2022

Carmy sat on his lawn chair watching the rain splash against the window that led to his balcony, the funeral program rested lazily on his lap held in place by his pack of cigarettes and lighter. He didn’t realize it but this had been his routine since he learned of his brother's passing.

He would come home not even bothering to change out of his work clothes and plop down in the creaky lawn chair, usually on his balcony but recently the weather hadn’t been calm enough for that.

Light up a cigarette and just bask in his despair.

The only difference had been the program he received in the mail a week ago. The newly acquired folded paper joined his after-work routine for the day after being left on the island in his kitchen since receiving it. 

Carmy wasn’t sure if he was angry at Mikey for choosing death, or if he was more hurt by what they would never again be able to experience with each other. He felt like once again Mikey had left him behind, not thinking about the ways his actions would affect those around him, affect the people who loved him.

The decision to skip the funeral wasn’t as hard as most would have thought. What good would Carmy have to offer by being there, it's not like anyone needed him. And anyway, he couldn’t just drop everything happening here in New York for a day, life didn’t work that way for him. 

Carmy knew he didn’t hate Mikey, he just didn’t understand his choices recently. Didn’t necessarily understand how much the prescriptions had fucked with his mind. And maybe in a selfish way, he wasn’t ready to understand, to forgive Mikey for leaving him so soon. Nothing to even show for the loss of the person who inspired him most besides the funeral program as an ugly reminder of what he could never be again.

A soft knock rang through the quiet apartment, the man inside happy to ignore it, sure it was just one of his neighbors doing whatever weird shit they usually did. He removed a cigarette from his pack standing up and setting the program in the chair before grabbing his lighter and moving to open the window.

He heard it again, this time a bit louder and more urgent sounding. Carmy removed his phone from his pocket, the generic lock screen shining up at him with the time reading 2:30 am.

No one had ever shown up at his apartment this late, not even the woman across the way who periodically tried to charm Carmy all kinds of inconvenient times of the night. The knocking finally stopped as muffled voices carried through the hallway outside his door.

Carmy wouldn’t consider himself a nosy neighbor but he did find himself a bit curious who was knocking at his door at such an hour it alerted another tenant. Cigarette sitting between his lips he made his way to the door, ear leaned against it as he tried to catch bits and pieces of the conversation happening out there.

Having no such luck he resorted to checking the peephole to find his neighbor outside her door talking with a woman who appeared to be soaked to the bone. Carmy watched for a moment, he couldn’t place it but something about the unknown woman looked familiar to him. He continued watching his neighbor motioning for the woman to wait outside for a moment while she grabbed something from her apartment.

Carmy was ready to return to his initial smoke break but found himself stopping as the woman faced his door. Heart stopping as he took in features he would remember for a lifetime. He quickly moved to unlock his door, throwing it open only to surprise the ghost of a woman standing in his hallway.

You ceased your knocking as you heard a door opening behind you, turning to face a woman who appeared to be around the same age as you. From her appearance, it didn’t seem like you had woken her up so you were grateful for that fact.

“You’re making a mess in the hallway,” her eyes traveled over your form. Your figure sopping wet from the downpour you just escaped from.

A tired sigh left your lips, “Um, I’m sorry to bother you, but do you know the guy who lives here?” Your hand motioned to the door that was at your back that you had just been knocking on. 

“You a friend or something?” The skepticism in the woman’s voice irked you, it was a yes or no question there was no need for her to give you the third degree.

You nodded trying to keep your cool. You were tired, dripping wet, and you weren’t even sure if Carmy was home. “Yeah, something like that.”

She gave you another once over before shaking her head back and forth, “No I don’t, sorry.” She began to close her door before you called out to her one last time.

“Wait sorry, is there any way I could use your phone, mine is dead,” you presented your phone as evidence, you didn’t want to be in this woman’s presence any more than she wanted to put up with you, but you needed to at least call a cab.

The subtle roll of her eyes caused the grip on your phone to tighten, luckily though the woman gave you a gesture to wait there before returning to her apartment.

You let out a sigh of relief, head dropping as your thoughts raced. You had no idea what the hell was going through your mind when you booked the last-minute flight. Having found Carmen’s address written on a forgotten piece of paper lying in the kitchen of the Berzatto family home.

The excuse to Sugar was that you had to meet with a potential interviewee for an upcoming article and couldn’t reschedule. You had already been in Chicago for longer than you originally planned, so what was one impromptu plane ride to the east coast?

There was no sign that the woman you bothered was coming back anytime soon so you decided to cut your losses, you would find a pay phone or something to use. You turned around sending one last look at Carmy’s door, the feeling that this was all for nothing setting in.

You went to pick up your bag from the ground when the sounds of a door unlocking caught your attention, raising back up to your full height as you watched the door you were initially knocking on harshly swing open.

Separated by a threshold Carmen Berzatto stood in front of you clad in his disheveled chef whites looking just as exhausted as you felt. You promised yourself you wouldn’t cry if this trip did end up paying off, but after five years without him, five years of hurting and hoping you could no longer hold back all the emotions the man evoked within you.

Your trembling lips raised into a pathetic smile as your eyes took all of him in, “Hi Carmy.”

The water dripped off of you as you awkwardly stood in the entryway to Carmy’s apartment. You watched him rush around to tidy up his apartment, he hadn’t said a word to you yet just opened his door wider with the expectation that you would enter.

“Carm,” your trembling voice doing nothing to stop the scrambling of the man in front of you.

“Carmen.” The name left your lips a little louder this time, finally gaining the man’s attention, his entire being turning in your direction but eyes never meeting yours. “Uh, could I maybe take a shower?”

Carmy’s head nodded rapidly, staying glued to his spot for a moment before he signaled for you to follow him. As you walked through the apartment to his bedroom you couldn’t help but take in just how Carmy-like the living space was.

Lacking personal touch and like he was ready to flee at a moment's notice; the only commitment the man could make was being a chef apparently.

You stopped in front of the bathroom looking around his room before finally focusing on him. “I, do you think I could borrow some clothes?”

Again Carmy nodded the man acting as though his voice box wasn’t working. You watched him move around his room wondering if he’d ever award you any form of attention or verbal acknowledgment. He stopped for a minute eyes finally finding yours, “Go ahead and get cleaned up, I’ll leave these on the bed.”

Your eyes found the contents in his hand before it was your turn to nod and head into the bathroom. You started the shower searching for a towel and washcloth as you waited for the water to heat up. This whole trip could very well be a mistake, but there was no going back now, you were here, and you had already used your miles. 

Slipping out of your wet clothes felt like a struggle, the heavy fabric clinging to you like a second skin. You quickly stepped into the shower, not wanting any of the water to go to waste. The steaming water helped to relax you, all your worries about your visit being set aside as you basked in the warmth radiating around you.

After standing under the shower head and allowing the water to caress your skin, you reached for the products Carmy had lined up in his shower. The shower gel is the same brand you used all those years ago on Christmas. Looking at the bottle in your hands you couldn’t help but think of all the ways in which Carmy wronged you, why you had allowed him to constantly hurt you, a fact you still couldn’t figure out.

And you couldn’t stand here in his shower glaring at a bottle the whole time you were here either. You took your time lathering your body allowing the calming aroma of lavender to invade your senses. Finishing you returned everything to its proper spot before rinsing your body and shutting the shower off.

Stepping out you wrapped the large fluffy towel around your body not chancing a glance at your reflection as you exited the bathroom. The door to the bedroom was closed and the clothes you saw in Carmy’s hands earlier sat in a neat pile on the bed. You perused the selection of a clean pair of boxer shorts, one of his many crew necks and a pair of socks were laid out for you.

The deja vu the last few sequences of events had given you hadn’t gone unnoticed. 

You would have to forgo a bra but you’d been in much more uncomfortable positions with Carmy than this. Dressing you made your way to the door, stopping for a moment to allow yourself a deep breath, you couldn’t be sure what you would be walking into. Along with the fact that you were in a city you had never been in and your return flight wasn’t for two more days, Carmy was your only option. 

The warmth in the apartment slapped you in the face as you left Carmy’s room, the heater had been turned on. You followed the trail you had first taken finding your way to the living room that doubled as a kitchen.

“Sit,” you were almost ready to argue with Carmy’s demanding tone, but the food situated on the island counter stopped you.

You made your way to the lone stool taking a seat, trying not to marvel at the food in front of you. Carmy’s water bill would be high for the month, you had apparently been in the shower long enough for a dinner of grilled cheese and tomato soup to be made. Carmy still hard at work making something on the stovetop sans his chef jacket.

Eyeing the food in front of you, you couldn’t help the way your mouth watered. You greedily picked up a slice of the grilled cheese and dipped it into the hearty soup, The sigh of appreciation not going unnoticed by the chef a few feet away from you, a small smirk gracing his lips at the quiet sound you let out.

“Good?” The question caught you off guard, mouth still full, swallowing the bite in your mouth you set the rest of the sandwich down, eyes zeroing in on Carmy’s biceps that were put on full display by his form-fitting white shirt. 

“I’ve had better.” Carmy caught your shrug as he placed a steaming mug next to the rest of your food, doing his best not to outright smile at your stubborn attitude. He moved to lean his back against the sink, arms crossed over his chest as he studied you.

“Fuck Carmy,” the sigh left your lips reluctantly. “It’s actually fucking great.” So enthralled with the food set in front of you, you missed the pink blush that dusted across Carmy’s cheeks. The heat in the apartment almost felt like too much as the lewd words left your lips.

“Ahem, I uh, I’m gonna get cleaned up. Make yourself comfortable,” Carmy watched as you waved him off, the food you were eating stealing all of your attention.

Carmy watched you for a moment longer, still shocked that your physical presence was here in his apartment. He wasn’t sure what prompted this visit, or if he even deserved your attention after all the immature shit he had pulled. But he was thankful to see you doing well, to see you looking as though you belonged with him in his bland apartment the clothes comfortably sitting on your body providing him with a feeling of domesticity he was one day hoping to have with you.

The mug of hot chocolate in your hands helped to send warmth through your body. You were still sitting at the stool not sure what to do as Carmy freshened himself up. Now that you weren’t shivering cold and rushing through the apartment you could finally take in the less than cozy abode. 

It wasn’t much but you were sure it was enough for Carmy, taking a few sips of your drink you began ambling around the apartment, mug still gripped in your hands, a tether to reality. The living room wasn’t messy but more so what you would describe as Carmy’s version of organized clutter.

A small couch and television helped to offer a homey feeling. The out-of-place lawn chair caught your eye, and the corner of your lips quirked up at how fucking Carmy it was. You made your way to the window it was sitting in front of, the New York skyline at this time of the day still a sight to see. The rain gliding down the window felt like it matched the steady pace of your heartbeat.

Turning to the lawn chair the contents in the seat grabbed your attention. Leaning over you picked up the unassuming paper, a jolt of sadness rushing through you as you read over the program. The funeral a week ago is still stuck in the back of your mind, the closed sleek black casket haunting your eyelids every night.

You quickly replaced the program in its original spot. You had come here intending to confront Carmy about his absence, but the more you stood in his apartment, the more you realized you weren’t actually ready to hear Carmy’s truth.

48 hours was all you had here, if you decided to use it as an escape, so be it. You would have to return to the reality that Mikey was dead sooner than later. You were allowed to let yourself use the time spent here as an escape from reality. You could use your time here to reprimand Carmy for his life decisions, or you could use the borrowed time to relish in finally seeing him after five years and try to figure out the back and forth the two of you have been participating in for a majority of your lives.

Mikey would understand, he wanted you to be happy, so it was okay to pretend for a little while that he’d be waiting there in Chicago when you got back right?

You made your way back to the kitchenette needing a distraction from the very thoughts you were running away from. You finished off your hot cocoa before grabbing your remaining dishes and heading to the sink. Washing dishes was the first distraction you could think of. 

As you made your way to the sink the sound of a door opening and feet padding across the floor could be heard. Quickly turning on the faucet you reached for the dish rag sitting in the sink, a sharp gasp escaping your lips at the pain that shot through the base of your palm, the running water easily turning a translucent pink color.

Snatching your hand back you spotted the blade of a knife that was covered in drops of your blood and haphazardly hidden under the dish rag. Your good hand reached to move the dish rag and grab the offending object. 

Finally getting a good grip on the knife, you were shocked at the familiarity of it, the personal initials carved into the handle proving your theory. The last time you laid eyes on these they were neatly tucked away into a luxurious gift box that Carmy discarded just as easily as he discarded you the morning after Christmas. 

And you thought they had been left in the same spot all these years, collecting dust in his childhood bedroom. But as you held a knife from the set in your hand, and your eyes moved to the remaining set delicately placed on the counter not too far away, you realized that to be nowhere near the truth. 

“Yo, what the fuck Baby,” your attention turned to Carmy’s voice behind you his figure clad in a pair of sweats and a white tank top. That stupid fucking gold chain that you had dreamed of taking between your teeth one too many times glistened against the firmness of his chest.

The delicate grip on your injured hand tore your eyes from the sinful chain. Carmy’s eyes raised your hand to his face examining the seriousness of the wound, “What happened?” 

“Cut myself,” you raised the knife in your hand to show him, watching as his eye darted between you and the tool he took so much pride in owning.

“What the fuck did you do that for?” Carmen Berzatto’s attitude would never cease to surprise you.

You scoffed quickly snatching your hand from his grip, and walking to grab the dish towel hanging from his oven, “I didn’t do it on purpose you fucking idiot.” 

Carmy began rummaging around in his cabinets his search not continuing for too long before he made his way over to you, first aid kit in his grasp. You were honestly surprised he owned one sure he’d rather bask in his pain than take care of himself.

Your good hand shot out aiming to grab the first aid kit from his hands. The slight slap to your hand caused your mouth to drop open, who the hell did he think he was?

“Give me the kit Carmen.” You watched as his eyes met yours, the once blank expression on his face morphing into a frown. 

“Don’t say my name like that,” you rolled your eyes before reaching out once again, only to receive the same result. “Just let me help you. Why are you being so fucking stubborn!”

You raised your eyebrows not expecting Carmy to yell at you. Your hand reluctantly came up between the two of you so he could bandage it up. It was official that you were weak for this man, the demanding tone in his voice shooting straight through you. 

The two of you sat in silence as Carmy cleaned the cut, the consensus was that you didn’t need stitches so the ointment and bandages Carmy had would do. You watched as he worked, hands delicately mending your wound he was so focused on.

When he finished you lowered your hand watching as he cleaned up before you made your exit to the living room, sitting on one side of the couch. Your back was to the kitchen as Carmy finished tidying up, the only sign he followed you out was him walking around the couch in your peripheral.

He joined you on the couch choosing the safe option and sitting directly across from you, the space speaks volumes. You brought your legs up to your chest, if this was a month ago you probably would have let all your hurt and anger guide you in this moment. 

But as life taught you, the universe was eager to snatch away people you thought you had forever with. 

It was silent for a little longer, the both of you avoiding eye contact. You finally turned to face him wanting to understand the choices he made regarding the situation between you two.

“Carmy?” You rested your chin atop your knees as he finally provided you with his full attention, “Did I do something wrong?”

His eyebrows raised, whether, from shock or surprise, you couldn’t be sure. You watched as his eyes darted across the room like he was looking for an anchor. You weren’t too sure who adult Carmy was, because the boy you used to know easily held conversations with you, even the tough ones. 

“I just…I want to understand you, Carmy. And I want to know why I’m not good enough for you,” as soon as those words left your lips it was like you were looking at 18-year-old Carmy again. “I thou-we seemed to be in a good place after Christmas dinner, but then I woke up alone and…and it felt like we were back at square one like you ghosted me all over again.”

You were staring directly into Carmy’s eyes, it was hard but it needed to be done. You needed him to see, to understand how much his actions continued hurting you. 

His hand raised in a gesture you had seen too many times to count, fingers running through his hair. If he didn’t want to have this conversation you couldn’t force him to, but you also wouldn’t keep allowing him to run in and out of your life when it was convenient for him. The two of you were friends once, and you weren’t going to allow him to continue exploiting the love you had for him.

Your arms wrapped around your propped-up legs, a security blanket for the words you were about to force out. “You can be honest with me, Carmy. If you told me you wanted nothing to do with me I’d be on the next flight out of here.” You waited for anything, a sigh, words, but all you got was his steel blue eyes staring you down in the space across from you. 

A sardonic chuckle escaped your lips as you quickly wiped the tears racing down your cheeks. Head falling back to stare at the ceiling as a way to not allow Carmy to see your tears, before calming yourself down enough to meet his gaze head-on.

“I can’t be the only one that wants more for us Carmy.” You could see the light reflecting off the glazed film in his eyes. “And I don’t think I am. But you’re inconsistent with your feelings, and I know it’s wrong of me to spring this on you considering the circumstances…but I just need honesty Carmy, that’s all.”

You said your peace, but you weren’t sure what else you could say to try to make him understand and maybe that was the problem, maybe he didn’t want to understand. You leaned into the couch cushion for comfort. The distance stretching between you was nowhere near as hurtful as the silence.

The fatigue from your flight was beginning to set in, you rushed everything to make it here that you hadn’t realized how much of a toll it took on you. 

Carmy watched you from his side of the couch, arms crossed against his chest. There was so much he wanted to say to you but didn’t know how. He knew you deserved the truth, but it had never before been asked of him in this context. He was scared of the fact that he wanted more with you; it  frightened him.

The idea he had of the two of you in his head was intoxicating and unnerving all at once. He could admit to himself that he dreamed of a life with you, and found himself lost in thought too many times to count about what it would be like to come home after a long shift to you there waiting for him.

Carmen was intoxicated by the idea of spending the rest of his life with you, a continuous beacon in your life that surpassed the title of friend and edged into something more. But he was unnerved as well because he wasn’t sure if this was love or infatuation.

Loving you unnerved Carmy, firstly because he wasn’t sure how he would know he was in love with you or not. And secondly, he didn’t know how to love you and wasn’t sure if he was capable of it. If there was one thing Carmy knew it was that you were deserving of a life-altering love, a love that transcended lifetimes if possible.

But he was almost positive he couldn’t be that person for you, he wasn’t deserving of you.

“I uh, I tried calling you,” Carmy stopped to collect himself, he wanted to talk to you, to let you understand him like you once did. “You changed your number. And that’s not an excuse. I understood why. I just…I guess I took it as a sign that there was nothing left for us.”

His eyes met yours searching for any sort of reaction, any form of acknowledgment. Your puffy eyes and tear-stained face stared back at him, his heart clenching in his chest at the emotional distress he constantly put you through.

“I um,” a placating smile raised to Carmy’s lips as he fumbled with his fingers as a distraction. “I can’t-Baby I-we both know I can’t give you what you deserve.” Carmy did his best to play off the watery undertone in his voice, eyes quickly darting up to yours as he heard your sniffles.

Carmy watched as your head rapidly nodded up and down, a sad knowing smile stretching across your lips. The tightness in his chest increased tenfold, his hand coming up to press into the middle of his chest, hoping to alleviate the pain. 

“I um, I think I would like to go to sleep if that’s okay?” You raised your head to look at Carmy, you told him you would accept his rejection, but that didn’t mean that it wasn’t going to hurt. 

Carmy nodded getting up and walking towards you, holding his hand out to help you up. You allowed him to grasp your soft hand in his firm calloused one, head down as he led you to his bedroom. He motioned for you to sit down on his bed as he escaped into the bathroom, coming back a moment later with tissues in his hand.

You avoided his eyes as he bent down on his knees in front of you, gently using the collected tissue to dab at your puffy face. You couldn’t help the sorrowful laugh that escaped your lips, the scene reminded you of when the two of you were growing up and Carmy would always help clean your face after a good cry.

A tight smile formed on his lips as his eyes met yours, the two of you probably thinking of the same memories. He finished drying your face before returning to the bathroom to throw away the tissues. Carmy helped you up from the bed to pull down his comforter before allowing you to get in.

He watched as you scooted over to make room for him awaiting his entrance, “Uh lemme just tidy up out there.” Both of you knew it was an excuse but neither were brave enough to admit it. 

Carmy quickly left the room heading straight for the small duffle you had brought with you. He was sure the rain had soaked through your bag and wet your belongings. Making his way to the closet where his washer and dryer were located he easily fit your clothes into the wash, not wanting you to be stuck in his clothes for however long you were there.

He found your laptop bag in there as well, quickly removing it from its confines and drying it with a clean kitchen towel. Placing the laptop on his counter he made his way around the kitchenette to clean up the mess your blood made and finish off the dishes you hadn’t been able to wash. All of this was a distraction to the warm body he knew was waiting up for him in bed, he felt the urge to prolong the inevitable but realized he might never get this chance again.

Carmy quickly finished his clean of the front room, it wasn’t up to his usual standards but he could no longer deny himself the thing he wanted most in that moment; to wrap you up in his arms and hope he’d never have to let go.

Making sure all appliances were off and starting the washer, he quickly made his way back into his bedroom, closing the door as quietly as he could. He stood in the middle of the room for a minute, the figure peacefully lying in his bed not something he was used to. Carmy quietly crept over to the empty side of the bed lifting the covers and allowing himself to slide in.

Carmy knew you weren’t asleep and any other time he might’ve felt embarrassed to be so eager to be near you, but something about being in your presence felt right. Carmy made sure to scoot close to you, arm moving to wrap around your midsection and bring you closer to him, the need to feel your body pressed against his barely being satisfied.

His face found its way to the crook of your neck, taking a deep breath, the lavender scent he loved so much dancing across his senses. The sigh you let out into the night was a sign that you both wanted this just as much.

Carmy moved his head up a few inches, lips brushing against the ‘B’ hidden behind your ear. There wasn’t a day he didn’t think about the hidden ink stain or the words you said to him when he first found it.

Pressing one more soft kiss against the inkblot Carmy felt as you relaxed into him. Your warm body in his arms once more provided a feeling of bliss he wasn’t aware he needed.

You both knew the position you were in and the soft caress of Carmy’s lips against your skin, was a direct contradiction of the claims he made earlier. But neither of you would be the voice of reason in these 48 hours you had together.

Whatever happened between the two of you during this time would be welcomed with open arms. You and Carmy were on borrowed time, there would be time for regrets later, but as Carmy held you in his arms he decided that he would try to give you pieces of himself that no one had ever seen; even if it would all end in hours. 

“Sweet dreams Baby.” 

Carmy looked most at peace while sleeping, the stress and exhaustion seemed to have melted off of him as his mind transported him to the land of dreams.

You had been awake for some time now, Carmy’s presence helpful enough to allow you a few peaceful hours of sleep. But the inevitable thoughts of a life lost would always haunt you through the night. So here you were watching the slight rise and fall of Carmy’s chest, his lips parted slightly. He looked adorable like this but you felt a little weird just watching someone sleep. 

Your hand raised gently moving the waves out of Carmy’s face, leaning in slightly to press a delicate kiss on his forehead before quietly making your way out of the bed. It was a little tricky to open the door without waking Carmy but you had managed.

Leaving the hallway that led to Carmy’s room you entered the living room, searching for the duffle you brought with you. Only to find it open on the floor, your toiletry bag the only item that remained in the bottom of the bag. Confusion swept across your face as you tried to figure out where the rest of your belongings were.

Looking around the living area you spotted your laptop resting on the counter, your laptop bag sitting on a towel next to it. You would figure things out later. The first thing you wanted to do right now was to brush your teeth.

You quickly tip-toed back into Carmy’s room and the bathroom quietly shutting the door behind you and beginning your morning routine. Now refreshed you exited the bathroom, a small smile gracing your lips as you took in Carmy’s still-sleeping figure. 

Perusing the fridge and pantry you found a lack of any edible food. The few things available allowed you to whip up some French toast. You were no chef and maybe you should’ve left the cooking to Carmy but you were hoping this could be an olive branch for the two of you. If Carmy didn’t want to be with you romantically, maybe the two of you could work on mending your friendship.

Carmy woke up to an empty bed, his first thoughts that you had escaped in the night, his heart clenching a bit at the thought. He couldn’t be mad he pulled the same stunt on you, turning to lay on his back he stared at his ceiling, mind racing as he thought about the conversation from yesterday. 

Carmy knew he wanted to be happy, and he also knew he wanted that with you. He just didn’t know the first thing about romantic love or how to explicitly make his wants clear to you. It seemed as though he’d never get that chance, you were serious about catching the next flight out. 

Sitting up in bed he looked around, trying to gain his bearings. The sound of his bedroom door opening jolted him from his thoughts. He watched as you walked in with two plates in your hands, the smell of French toast invading his senses. His eyes found yours as you stopped in the doorway a small shy smile sent in his direction.

“I made us breakfast,” Carmy watched you make your way towards him, taking a plate off your hands as you sat on the bed in front of him. “I hope you don’t mind French toast, you uh didn’t have much to work with.” 

Carmy’s eyes subtly lit up at the fact that you were still there, that you hadn’t left. “No, yeah this is great, you uh, used cinnamon and everything.” The shy teasing smile on Carmy’s face caused a small chuckle to bubble out of you.

The two of you ate in silence for the most part, each of you stealing glances at one another while the other wasn’t paying attention. Shy smiles sent each other’s way when one of you would catch the other’s eye. 

You watched as Carmy took the plate from your hands and made his way to the door, you sat there for a moment watching him walk away before getting up and following behind him. You silently took a seat on the stool at the counter watching as Carmy began cleaning the remaining breakfast dishes.

The stretch of his back muscles under the tank top he was wearing was a sight to see. It surprised you a bit how toned Carmy was considering he lived and breathed being a chef, you didn’t expect him to have free time to worry about his physique. 

You waited as Carmy finished sending him a small smile as he finally faced you. He made his way to you, the two of you separated by the counter, his forearms resting on the counter accentuated his toned biceps.

“I actually need to go to the farmer’s market today,” you waited to see if there was anything more he had to say but the silence drew on.

“Oh, I can stay here, I have work to finish.” You gestured your hand to the laptop not far from the two of you, trying not to let your disappointment show.

“Did you maybe wanna join me,” Carmy waited for your response, eyes darting around your face hoping you would say yes.

“Do you…want me to join you?” You could laugh, the two of you sitting here beating around the bush like two teenagers. 

You waited as you took in Carmy’s shy demeanor, the blush rising from his neck, you were tempted to point it out but didn’t want him to close himself off like you were used to. 

“I want you to come with me to the farmers market.” Carmy made sure to look you in the eyes as the words left his mouth, sure that he was red in the face but wanting you to know how much he wanted to spend time with you. 

The two of you stared at each other for a while, the toothy grin on your face mirroring the his smaller one. The small nod of your head was everything Carmy needed to see for his heartbeat to calm down. He watched as you giddily got up from your seat presumably to get ready.

“Oh um did you do something with my clothes?” The smile didn’t seem to be leaving your face anytime soon.

Carmy cleared his throat hand raising to scratch the back of his neck, “Yeah I, uh I washed them, they’re in my closet.” 

You couldn’t deny that those words made your heart pick up speed a bit, the idea of feeling giddy that your clothes were in Carmy’s closet was a bit childish, but you would take what you could get at this point. 

“Oh, okay I’ll just go get ready then.” Your hand gestured to the room behind you.

“Yeah,” Carmy couldn’t help but marvel at the idea of you getting ready in his apartment, it was almost like he could pretend this was his reality.

“Yeah,” you didn’t know why you were acting like a love-struck teenager but Carmy just brought it out of you.

“Okay,” Carmy nodded his head signaling you to take your leave.

“Oka-.”

“Baby just go get fucking ready.” A huff of laughter escaped Carmy at the way you were acting.

Carmy stood by the counter watching as you ran off to prepare yourself for the day. He couldn’t stop the smile from gracing his lips as he listened to your melodic laughter sing through the emptiness of his apartment.

You had split from Carmy a few booths back, the two of you deciding it was for the best. Your constant wandering off to booths that intrigued you put Carmy in a panic when he would look to see you no longer at his side. 

It was your first time in New York and you were just happy to take in this small portion of what the city had to offer. The farmer’s market here was similar to the ones you’d been to back home, though the weather would take some getting used to, not like you needed to. You’d be back in Chicago before you knew it. 

You found a small flea market-type area towards the back of the farmers market. Vendors gathered around selling handmade items and keepsakes. A few minutes into your perusal of the area you found a vendor selling handmade clothing items. A pretty cami dress caught your eye that the vendor exclaimed you just had to have, and who were you to turn down a beautiful dress selling for a decent price in the streets of New York.

With the dress nicely tucked away into a paper bag gently swinging from your arm, you decided it was time to make your way back to the entrance of the farmers market and wait for Carmy. On your journey back you stopped at a vendor selling handmade leather goods, a particular leather wallet drawing your attention.

The familiarity of it caused you to let loose a shuddering breath, the small item reminded you of Mikey’s wallet. Although his was more used, worn in. Standing on this street and looking down at the pristine wallet in front of you was almost like looking at a replica.

You remembered asking him once why he chose to use the ratty old thing and the smart-ass response he had given you. The fact that an inanimate object that had no ties to Mikey was causing this sort of reaction inside you, felt too real, it felt like grief was prepared to sink its claws into you. 

And you couldn’t allow it, because you were in New York finally on somewhat good terms with Carmy. And Mikey would be waiting for your return to Chicago, eager to hear about your time with his little brother. 

“Would you like to buy it, miss?” Your eyes found the vendors, a forced smile tracing your lips.

You slowly shook your head feeling a little bad for turning down goods from a small business, you just didn’t need the wallet, especially not one that would remind you of him every day.

The walk back to the farmers market felt melancholy: the promise to yourself to compartmentalize Mikey and his situation was becoming harder the more time you spent alone. Your search for Carmy became more urgent the longer you couldn’t find him. The racing images of Mikey’s casket swirling with your recent moments spent in Carmy’s presence. 

You didn’t want to burden Carmy with the debilitating thoughts you were having, not wanting to ruin the good thing the two of you had going. Neither of you brought up the elephant in the room and it seemed like neither of you was going to. The both of you content to live in momentary bliss for the time you had together. 

It felt like you were spiraling and all because of some stupid too similar fucking wallet. You finally made your way to the entrance of the market hoping Carmy would know to look for you there.

Carmy gathered the ingredients necessary for the dinner he planned for tonight, luckily for him the restaurant was closed on Sundays so he could spend the day with you. 

He still wasn’t sure that any of this was real. You showing up outside his apartment at two in the morning, holding you as you slept, and now adventuring out to the market he frequented, it all felt like a dream.

There was one last stop Carmy needed to make before he met up with you. He made his way to the old flower vendor who was always the first one here to ensure he set up a show at the entrance. Carmy had his fair share of conversations with the man but had never actually bought any flowers off of him, but today was the day that changed. 

“Carmen is that you?” Carmy raised his head from the flowers he was glancing at, the old man sitting on the stool smiling his way.

“Yes sir. How you doing today Willie?” Carmy wasn’t much into friends or acquaintances since the two of you parted ways all those years ago, but Willie was a special case. Always kind, on Carmy’s first visit to this particular market the older man had explained to him the layout and gave him insider information about what times were best to come to ensure he got the freshest ingredients from each vendor. 

“You thinking about buying something today son?” The older man rose from his seated position plopping the paper he was reading in his place.

Carmy nodded eyes going back to the various flowers to choose from. This wasn’t Carmy, he had never done something like this, not willingly at least. But he knew flowers could symbolize different things, and have different meanings. And if he couldn’t figure out how to be straightforward and speak with you, maybe a hand-picked bouquet could solve that issue. 

“Looking for anything in particular?” He glanced at Willie, a slight frown marring his face, he genuinely had no idea.

Carmy chuckled, hand raising to scratch the nape of his neck, “I’m not sure Willie.” He felt a little embarrassed. How was he to translate his feelings to you through horticulture if he knew nothing about flowers and their meanings.

“Well help me out boy, tell me who they’re for an maybe I can whip something up for you.” It was like perfect timing as Carmy heard your voice trickling into his ears. You were standing on the other side of the entrance phone to your ear as you spoke to somebody, a look of exhaustion on your features.

Carmy’s eyes caught yours as you glanced in his direction, he watched that beautiful smile appear as you quickly ended the call with whoever you were talking to, smile mirroring yours as you two stared at each other across the distance. Your hand raised in a shy wave smile growing wider as Carmy reciprocated the gesture. 

“Now Carmen, why didn’t you tell me these were for your old lady,” Carmy’s head shot around to find Willie smirking at him from his side of the booth. “Is that the young lady in that picture you keep in your wallet?” 

Carmy watched frozen, as Willie moved around his booth, trying his best to figure out when the older man had ever caught a glance at the picture of you two. “Uh, she’s just a friend sir.” 

“Listen, boy, you can lie to yourself, but you can’t lie to me. And I know you betta not be lying to that pretty girl over there.” The flowers in Willie’s hand were used to point in your direction. 

“I saw the way she looked at you just now son, that girl is in love,” Carmy listened as Willie began constructing the bouquet, ears tuned to what the man was saying. 

“I’ll give it to you straight boy, you’re gonna regret every chance you didn’t take with that young lady. Now I don’t know the situation between you two, but what I do know is that you look at that girl like she invented oxygen, I know because that’s how I looked at my Debbie.” Carmy was raptly intrigued with Willie’s words, watching the sad smile take over his lips as he mentioned his recently deceased wife.

“And from our interactions you don’t seem to me like the type to let rare opportunities pass you by,” the bouquet seemed to be pretty much finished, the older man just putting the final touches. “Now you give that pretty young lady this here bouquet, you make her a nice dinner like I’m sure you planned. And you let her know how much you appreciate her.” 

Carmy nodded his head rapidly trying to take in everything the older man said. His breath hitched in his throat as he watched Willie wave you over to them.

“Excuse me miss? Why don’t you come on over here and join us.” Carmy could feel the panic rising within him.

“N- Willie No don-.”

“Hush up boy and introduce me to your lovely girl.” You stopped next to Carmy eyes widening as you took in the unknown man's words. 

You looked at Carmy as he brought his hand up to swipe across his mouth, a tight-lipped smile lining his lips afterwards.

“Hi sweetie I’m Willie Carmen’s only friend in this city,” you laughed as the man winked at you before holding his hand out listening as you introduced yourself. 

“It’s nice to meet you Willie, you have some beautiful flowers, do you harvest them yourself?” The man in front of you waved off the compliment with a serene smile on his face.

“My wife and I started selling at this market 20 years ago. This is my first year without her.” The smile on your lips faltered as you offered your condolences.

“Now I don’t wanna keep you too long, but this bouquet here is for you to miss.” You looked at Carmy before your eyes found Willie’s again, your cheeks warming at what the man was insinuating. 

“Oh um, thank you so much. How much do I owe you?” Your wallet was out and ready in your hand, Carmy’s hand shooting out to stop you as he thrust money forward. 

“Y’all put that money away now,” Willie shook his head scoffing at the idea of either of you paying.

He held out the bouquet in your direction, the smile lining his face urged you to take it. You couldn’t help but marvel at the beautiful bouquet, the colorful assortment helping to ease the foreboding feeling you had earlier. 

“Our friend Carmen here chose each of those flowers,” you looked in Carmy’s direction, the blush on his face so endearing to you. “I went on ahead and tucked a card in there with their meanings. You two make a fine pair, don’t let life get in the way of the love you share, you hear me?”

You nodded avoiding Carmy’s eyes like your life depended on it, easily listening to the wisdom Willie was bestowing upon the two of you. 

“The world is kind but she is also cruel. She will take away the things we love even if we’re not ready to part with them. Love each other loudly and with no regrets, it's always good to see young love prosper.”  The sad look in Willie’s eyes pulled at your heartstrings, you stood there wondering if he had any regrets. 

The clearing of Carmy’s throat finally drew your attention from the wise older man in front of you. “Thank you Willie really, but we should be heading home.” 

Willie nodded a pleasant smile on his lips, “Damn right! The two of you holdin up my business.” The older man shooed the two of you off a chuckle followed his gesture. 

“It was nice meeting you Willie, thank you again for the beautiful bouquet.” You sent him one last wave before you and Carmy moved away from the booth.

“It’s a gorgeous bouquet Carmy,” you glanced over the flowers before your eyes locked with Carmy’s, a loving smile splitting your face. 

Carmy smiled, unconsciously reaching out to move a stray piece of hair from your eyes, hurriedly dropping his hand and clearing his throat. “Let’s get them home and into some water yeah?” Carmy’s eyes darted around doing his best not to stare at you for too long.

You looked down trying to hide your smile, the word ‘home’ filled you with warmth. Your hand reached out to intertwine his with your own, avoiding Carmy’s eyes as they finally focused on you, “Lead the way.”

The gentle squeeze of your hand in Carmy’s made you smile, the two of you making your way back to his apartment. Neither of you mentioned holding hands as you journeyed home, just like neither of you said anything as you melted into his safe embrace on the subway ride.

The two of you entered the small apartment, your laughs filtering through the hallway and into the entranceway. A run-in with Carmy’s neighbor across the hall was responsible for the now-dying laughter between the two of you.

“Is she always like that?” You stopped allowing Carmy to help you out of your jacket before he hung it up. You turned to him, taking the bags out of his hand as you made your way to the kitchen. Setting them on the counter before searching for something to hold your flowers. 

Carmy followed behind you after removing his own coat, hands falling to your waist as he moved around you to unload the few groceries he had gotten for tonight. “She uh, airdropped me a nude once, so right now was pretty tame I guess.” 

Your headshot to Carmy’s everything in you holding back the laugh that was desperately trying to escape. “Poor girl. Did you send one back?” You nudged your elbow into his watching as the blush on his cheeks deepened.

He maneuvered around you trying to ignore your teasing, “God no, we uh went out for drinks once, it was cool.” 

The crumbs he was giving you surprised you, “And nothing like came out of that?”

“I dunno was something supposed to?” Carmy made sure not to give you direct attention, mortified that he was even having this conversation with you in his kitchen.

“Well did you want it to?” You didn’t know why you had latched onto this topic of conversation so hard, it reminded you of the times Carmy would ramble to you about Claire. And if you were just spending the weekend with a friend wasn’t this the type of conversation you should be engaging in? 

Carmy turned to you as you finally found a glass big enough to support the bouquet, he watched as you filled the glass with water before trimming the stems. “Not with her, no.”

You looked up to see Carmy finally looking at you with a serious expression painting his flushed face. You couldn’t help it as your eyes dropped to his lips, clocking the subtle peak of his tongue poking out as he wet his lips. 

Carmy made his way towards you, Willie's words from earlier bouncing around in his head. He pulled the flower from your hand and placed it in the large glass he wasn’t even aware he had. He cleared his throat hoping he had enough confidence to get these words out.

“I’m gonna start on dinner, and you’re gonna go get ready,” his hand came up to hold the left side of your jaw, finger finding the spot behind your ear he always took special care to remember. “I want you to put on that pretty little dress you were gushing about on the way home.” Carmy stopped watching as you nodded your head showing that you were paying attention.

“Can you do that for me?” His eyes traced your face looking for any signs that you were uncomfortable.

Your lidded eyes lazily blinked up at him a quiet ‘yes’ escaped through your parted lips. A small smile rested on Carmy’s lips as he leaned in to plant a delicate kiss on your forehead, lips lingering for a moment too long.

He reluctantly removed himself from you waiting for you to scurry off. Surprised when you took a step closer to him and leaned in, a gentle press of your lips connecting to the corner of his. Carmy watched as you pulled away and smiled at him before taking your leave.

Carmy stood in his kitchen for a minute, heart racing as he realized what he had just done. The only place Carmy had ever been in control was in the kitchen, so maybe that’s why it was so easy for him to take control in that moment, well that and Willie’s lecture.

He was sure it would never happen again as he began preparing the ingredients for the lasagna he planned to make for the two of you. 

You and Carmy had switched places a few minutes ago after he walked in on you wrapped in a towel and profusely apologized  for almost a whole minute. You easily slipped into your dress while Carmy was in the shower. 

As you walked into the living room you could smell the delicious aroma of the cuisine Carmy prepared for the two of you. You were glad to be out of Carmy’s presence for the time being, your brain doing its best to process the moment the two of you had shared in the kitchen. 

The cold shower you took did nothing to calm down the feelings swirling around inside you. You had never seen Carmy so in control of anything in his life, the demanding tone he used with you earlier almost had you making a fool of yourself right there in his kitchen. 

A constant beep coming from the oven drew your attention, you quickly made your way to the kitchen grabbing a towel to remove the hot dish from its place resting in the oven. You couldn’t help but marvel at the pretty lasagna in your hands. It was a bit weird to describe food as pretty, but the presentation was generally pleasing to the eyes.

You walked to the countertop to set the dish down, turning to search through the kitchen for plates and utensils. Having a slightly hard time as you had no idea where anything was located at.

“Baby?” The sound of Carmy’s voice startled you, not having heard him make his approach. 

You turned in his direction, a light laugh leaving your lips. It was a bit comical, the two of you dressed nicely, feet bare in his New York apartment. You took in his appearance biting your lip as you spotted his chain that encouraged you to do sinful things. He was dressed in probably the only slacks he owned, the ankles cuffed since he wasn’t wearing shoes. The deep green crew neck hugging his body was similar in color to the dress you were wearing, the unexpected matching caused another laugh to leave your lips. 

The box in his hand finally caught your attention, it appeared to be a present of some sort. You pointed at it with the random spoon you had picked up while searching for cutlery. 

“What’s that?” You furrowed your brows as you watched Carmy revert to his usual shy self. 

He held the gift out to you, “Go ahead, open it.” Your hand brushed his as you took the box from his hold feeling a bit giddy at the unsolicited gift.

Carmy held his breath as he watched you open a five-year-old gift in his kitchen. You looked beautiful and he wanted to tell you but couldn’t seem to force the words out too enthralled with the intimate atmosphere that had been surrounding the two of you since earlier in the kitchen. 

Carmy was a fool for leaving you the morning after Christmas and knowing that he let Mikey down when it came to you haunted him. He was glad to have these days with you, it wasn’t healthy but the two of you were providing a distraction for each other. 

“Carmy oh my goodness,” the gasp of your breath brought Carmy back to reality. His cheeks warmed at seeing you so happy. “How much did this even cost you, these things are like relics.” Your eyes flashed to the smile on your face seeming to brighten up the kitchen.

“It doesn’t matter, I bought this for Christmas and just…I never sent it.” He was prepared for you to scold him for his stupidity, tell him you didn’t care for the gift, and that you couldn’t play pretend with him anymore. 

The press of your warm body against his surprised him, quickly wrapping his arms around your waist. Holding onto you so tightly scared that if he let you go then you would disappear and he’d realize this weekend was just a dream.

“I love it Carmy really, thank you.” Your arms were still wrapped around his neck as the two of you gazed into each other's eyes. 

“Can I,” Carmy paused a laugh escaping his lips at the similarities between this moment and a past one you shared. “Can I kiss you?” 

You wasted no time before you leaned forward pressing a sweet kiss into his lips lingering for a moment to translate the love you felt for him. Carmy’s hand moved up to your jaw, keeping you locked in place against him, his tongue slipping out to caress your bottom lip.

You slowly opened your mouth allowing him in, the softness of his tongue exploring the warmth of your mouth. The kiss was slow, sensual, all the pent-up emotions being shared between the two of you. 

The rhythm Carmy set was easy for you to follow along with, you took the chance to suck on his tongue a bit, losing yourself in the feelings this one kiss was bringing forth.

You parted from Carmy reluctantly, a small smile raised to your lips as you watched him chase you for more. A soft moan escaped you as he began decorating kisses down your jaw and to your neck, tilting your head back to allow him better access, surprise painting your features as he raised you to sit on his counter. 

Carmy continued to study you with his lips, tracing down your pulse point and across your collarbone. It would never be enough for him, he would never be able to satisfy his hunger for you no matter how much of your skin his lips could paint. 

The soft whimpers snatched from your lips going straight to his groin, his hips unconsciously canting against your leg that was in perfect alignment. 

“Touch me Carmy…please,” Carmy swore he could cum from the sound of your begging alone.

But he stopped his ministrations, the realization that he had no idea what he was doing hitting him like a ton of bricks. 

You watched as Carmy pulled away from you chest rapidly puffing up and down as the confusion swept across your face. “Carmy?” Your voice trailed off you couldn’t help the hurt you were feeling, here you were sitting atop Carmy’s kitchen counter dress hiked up to your waist the lacy underwear you had chosen to wear in full view, the straps of your dress pulled down precariously low that the top of your areolas was peeking out. 

You quickly adjusted the top of your dress before hopping off the counter and pulling down the hem. Eyes filling with tears as you were brought back to prom night, memories re-playing all the hurt that came after it. 

Carmy’s head shot up from its place in his hands the tears in your waterline and the way you had shrunken into yourself making him feel like a complete fucking asshole.

“Shit no Baby…I-Fuck!” Carmy watched as you jolted a little at the shout of his voice, he was fucking this up more than it already was.

“Hey, hey,” he closed the distance between the two of you, raising his hands to your jaw and forcing you to look at him. “Baby, I-I’m sorry it's just…I don’t,” Carmy took a deep breath trying to gain his bearings. “I’ve never done this stuff before.” 

Carmy’s eyes followed the emotions crossing your face, a frown painting your face before your eyes widened and your lips parted in the shape of an ‘o’. 

“Carmy…have you never been intimate with anyone before?” Carmy knew your question wasn’t teasing or malicious but he couldn’t help feeling embarrassed at having to admit this to you. 

“I uh, you were my first kiss…and my second kiss just now,” Carmy hung his head in shame, blush rising from his neck to stain his cheeks. 

“Oh my goodness I’m such an asshole,” Carmy looked up at you a chuckle escaping him at your declaration. Your hand reached out to rest against his cheek thumb caressing back and forth. “Carmy I thought you were rejecting me.” Now it was your turn to feel shameful, your first thoughts being selfish ones as opposed to waiting to hear Carmy’s explanation. 

Carmy’s hand came up to grip yours on his cheek, head turning to place a soft kiss on your pulse point. “Let’s sit and eat, yeah?” Carmy waited for your response, smiling at you as you nodded. “I wanna spend as much time together as we can.” 

You pulled him into a sweet kiss, his hands squeezing your waist at the feeling of being able to freely kiss you “I’d like that.” You pulled away the two of you sharing bright smiles as you moved to have the dinner Carmy had so lovingly planned out.

Neither of you pointed out the fact that things would be coming to an end for you two tomorrow, but you’d bask in this loving atmosphere for all the remaining time you two had together. 

You could feel soft lips pressing into the space behind your left ear, your first instinct was worry. Confused by the warm body pressed into you from behind strong arms gripping your waist as though you would disappear at a moment's notice. The memories of the last day with Carmy led you to relax.

A quiet sniffle finally woke you up enough, your eyes opening to the dimly lit room. A familiar head of hair tucked snuggly into your neck, and slight huffs of breaths could be heard.

“Carmy?” The raspiness of your morning voice echoed around the room, you could hear the breathing quiet down a bit, concern spiking in you. 

You began turning wanting to comfort the man you had been in love with for most of your life, it was a struggle as the arms around you tightened but you finally turned to your side Carmy burying his face in your t-shirt-clad chest.

“Carmy, honey,” the lack of response was beginning to worry you, you had shared your fair share of cries with Carmy throughout your friendship but considering the circumstances that brought you together this time around, you couldn’t help but freak out a bit. “Hey, hey look at me yeah?”

“I-I just need a minute please.” The crack of Carmy’s voice went straight to your heart. He maneuvered so the top of his body was laying on your chest and stomach, his lower body settling gently between your legs. 

You leaned forward pressing a lingering kiss to his head before lying back down and slowly stroking your fingers through his hair, wanting to make him as comfortable in this moment as you could. You were content to hold him all day if that’s what he needed.

The two of you laid like that for a while, Carmy’s breathing and sniffling calming down after a few minutes. You watched as Carmy propped himself up on his elbows, pressing a small kiss into the fabric of your shirt over your stomach, a small smile rising to your lips as you watched him.

“Talk to me, Carm?” You watched as he looked up to you, pretty blue eyes swollen from the tears he’d been shedding. 

Carmy moved up a little resting his cheek against your sternum arms wrapped tightly around you, “Uhh, Sug called, said Mikey left something for me.” 

It was quiet as you let his words sink in, a shuddering sigh leaving you as your hands unconsciously began running back through Carmy’s hair. 

You felt Carmy’s hand slip under the shirt of his you were borrowing, fingers gliding across the skin of your stomach lazily tracing circles. The small gesture helped to relax you a bit.

“Did she say anything else?” Your fingernails softly scratched into Carmy’s scalp, the two of you trying to touch each other as much as you possibly could.

Carmy’s chuckle drew your attention, “She uh, asked me to come home.”

Your nails stopped for a minute before you started up again, heart jumping a little in your chest at the idea of Carmy coming back to Chicago, “Are you…going to go home?” The hope in your voice borders on desperation.

Carmy was silent for a moment, hands moving to lift your shirt just underneath your breast before he placed his warm cheek back in its previous position. The news skin-on-skin contact sends chills through both of you. 

“Everything with Mikey kinda made me think about us.” Carmy’s thumb came up, to caress against your rib, dangerously close to your breast. “It just kind of puts into perspective that the people you care about can be here one day…and gone the next.”

The avoidance of your original question was not lost on you, but Carmy opening up may have been better than whatever argument the initial qualm might impose. 

“Baby I-,” you looked at Carmy as he adjusted his position one hand resting against your sternum, his chin plopping onto it. “I um.” He stopped, you followed his movements watching as his eyes closed and he took a deep breath.

“For a while, I’ve known that I feel something for you, but I-I don’t think I can give you what you want.” Your hand slipped from his hair to cup his cheek, hanging on to every word leaving his lips.

Carmy leaned into the palm of your hand, letting himself melt into your touch, cherishing the few moments he had left with you. “And I can’t promise any commitment after today.” The rapid beating of Carmy’s chest could be felt on your stomach, the crack in his voice raising a small smile to your lips. 

You sat up in bed. Carmy looked up at you as you held his chin in your hand, thumb softly tracing his lips as you committed his features to memory. The tiny scars marring his face, the few beauty marks dotted around, connecting them would create a new constellation you swore you’d remember forever. 

Carmy was honest with you, and that’s all you asked of him. Neither of you could promise each other a happy ending after you parted ways and while that hurt, it didn’t make sense to ruin the remaining time the two of you had left dwelling on the future.

“Carmen,” you waited for him to lock eyes with you, a sad smile spread across your features, tears you could no longer hold back coming forth. “I know.” 

Carmy’s lips pressed into your thumb before he gently cupped your neck and reached up so your lips connected. This was only the third kiss the two of you shared, but the intangible love and intimacy that could be felt through the single press of your lips would never dwindle, not for as long as the two of you surrounded yourself with each other.

He raised to his knees both hands entrapping your face, all his passion being poured into this one kiss. Carmy was slightly above you now, the angle forcing you to raise your head to stay connected. His thumb began unconsciously caressing the ‘B’ behind your left ear, a small part of you that had stuck with him ever since he discovered it five years ago.

The kiss intensified as you slipped your tongue between his lips, hands gripping onto his hips as he towered above you in this position. Your tongue moved languidly inside his mouth, small noises escaping the both of you.

Carmy pulled the hair at the nape of your neck, the motion removing your lips from his. “Did you mean what you said?” His breath left him in a huff.

“What?” You were slightly out of breath yourself, confused at what the hell Carmy was on about. 

“What you said about this,” his thumb swiped back and forth against the ‘B’ inked into your skin. “Would you take my last name?” 

You bit your lip, eyes lidded as you searched Carmy’s face, hand moving to grip his soft chin between your forefinger and thumb raising onto your knees so the two of you were eye level.

“Would you like that Carmen? If I let you give me your last name?” A patronizing smile graced your lips, the air between you charged. 

Carmy surged forward hungry for a taste of you, his hands gripped your hair to tug on it a strangled gasp leaving you. The strength with which Carmy took your lips into his forcing your back into the mattress beneath you two, his body hovering over yours. 

Your hand left its place on his chin sliding down to his shoulders caressing the little skin his tank top allowed you to feel. Hands traveling across his chest, the feeling of his toned body under your palms making you needy. You finally made it to the hem of his shirt tugging it up to give you access to the warm skin of his torso.

Carmy parted from you, snatching the shirt over his head before diving back in. Lips leading him to his favorite feature of yours. Your hands wrapped around his shoulders pulling him flush against you, Carmy’s lips ravished your neck as he nipped from your jawline down to your pulse point, teeth sinking in a bit harder.

“Fuck Carmy.” The delicious feeling of Carmen's body against yours, his lips exploring you, hands gripping the skin of your revealed waist. All of it led to the thrust of your hips up into his, it was selfish but you needed him, not that you would force him but whatever he would give you would have to be enough.

Carmy’s sharp intake of breath drew your attention as his hips relentlessly ground into you, hand wandering up your shirt to cup your breast thumb accidentally tracing your nipple. 

Your loud gasp alarmed him. He quickly parted from you saliva connected your lips together as you both took in each other’s disheveled appearances.

“Did I-did I do something wrong?” Sweet Carmy worried that he had ruined the moment. 

You sat up rapidly shaking your head as you stared into his eyes, the both of you breathing heavily, “No, no it was great I promise.”

Carmy nodded gently tracing your jawline as he looked at you, “Baby…I want this moment with you.” The mumble made your heart race, this was a big deal it would change whatever this relationship between the two of you was. 

“Carmy…we don’t have to do anything you aren’t ready for.” You searched his eyes hoping he didn’t feel pressured by the noises you were making.

“Have you…done this before?” Carmy forced himself to keep looking at you regardless of the blush he could feel painting his cheeks.

The small nod you gave relieved him a bit, “Does that bother you?” You didn’t think Camry would mind but you knew the male species could be unpredictable. 

“God no, I just don’t wanna disappoint you.” He finally looked away from you embarrassed to have admitted something so personal. 

“You won’t.” You sent him a small smile before guiding his hands to the hem of your shirt helping him to pull it over your head. Watching his beautiful face take in everything you had to offer him. 

His throat bobbed as he took in a large gulp, you could see the uncertainty in his eyes, proving you’d have to take the reins on this one, not that you minded. The thought of telling Carmy how to pleasure you warmed you up even more. 

Your finger reached out to lift Carmy’s chin, directing his eyes to yours, “What do you want to do to me, Carmen?” 

You watched as he blinked eyes tracing your figure, “I just wanna appreciate you, Baby.” The words left his lips in a whisper.

You were taken aback never having heard that before while being intimate. His hands slowly settled on your waist, the safest option “How should I…do that.”

You smiled moving one of his hands to cup your breast, shuddering at the skin-to-skin contact, “We can start with kissing, then I want you to do whatever feels right okay?”

Carmy nodded, giving your breast a slight squeeze a whimper drawing out of you, taking account of your reaction he gently began rubbing his thumb across your pebbled nipple watching your body writhe at the small action. 

He leaned forward pressing a gentle kiss into your forehead, lips moving to your left cheek then your right. A small kiss pressed into each of your closed eyelids and the tip of your nose. Each corner of your lips got its turn before his lips found the space between your nose and upper lip. One more kiss pressed into your chin before finally ending with a sweet kiss to your lips, cherishing every inch of your face he had kissed.

Carmy made his way to your jawline, starting at the right side and tracing to your left, nipping every so often as he continued his journey. Lips slowly tracing from your jawline to your neck, he wasn’t sure what it was but seeing your neck on display for him made him feral, his hips grinding into your as he decorated your neck in love bites. 

“Lay down f’me.” You eagerly listened watching as Carmy planted another soft kiss into your lips before following the map of your collarbones. Lips pressing into your upper chest as both hands came up to softly knead your breast. 

You could feel Carmy’s hard-on pressing against you, as much as you were enjoying this, all you wanted in the world was to finally please Carmy. You slipped your hand between your bodies sliding into the waistband of his boxers, hand gripping him as a strangled moan parted his lips. The soft caress of your hand against him caused his head to spin, this felt different from the times he would stroke himself thinking about you.

“Does this feel good, Carmy?” Your voice was a little deeper, more sensual as you questioned him. “Do you wish it was me making you cum on those lonely nights, hmm?

“Fuck…yes.” The whine of his voice went straight to your core, spurring you on more. 

Your strokes became a little firmer, applying more pressure to provide him more pleasure. His length twitched against your palm the more you rubbed. Carmy had lost all sense of his own ministrations grinding into your hand while still on top of you, he could feel himself close to ecstasy the feel of your warm body underneath him making him lose all control.

“Ba-Baby stop.” You froze immediately forcing your hormones under wrap, Carmy’s comfortability your priority. 

“Are you okay Carm?” The worry in your voice was obvious as you removed your hand from its grip on him. 

“Ye-yeah, I just want to please you right now.” Carmy’s hand moved to grip your rib cage thumb running back and forth against your under boob, “Can I continue showing my appreciation.” The slight desperation in his voice caused you to rapidly nod your head. 

Carmy gave you a small shy smile, moving to kiss the spot he had been tracing during this time. His lips painted across your whole torso, paying extra attention to your stomach, ideas he wasn’t ready to give merit to racing through his mind as he did so.

Finally, he paused at your hips, the solid cotton panties you wore obscured his path, nose caressing the front of your panties as he took in a deep breath allowing your aroma to invade his senses. “Are you going to take off my panties, Carmy?” The condescending tone in your voice went straight to his throbbing cock.

He nodded, wasting no time in peeling the fabric from its home around your hips, ready to replace it with his bare hands. Carmy raised to his haunches, unconsciously licking his lips at the sight of your naked body sprawled so prettily across his bed. All of you on show just for him.

Carmy returned to his previous task lips pressing wet delicate kisses into each of your hips bones, a lingering one placed at the base of your pelvis before turning his attention to your thighs. Lips trailing down your leg special attention paid to the crook of your knees and ankles. 

Carmy’s eyes found yours as he placed the last kiss on your right ankle, both of your pupils blown from the sequence of events that had just taken place. 

You beckoned Carmy forward urging him to find you once again. As he drew closer you grabbed one of his hands placing it on your right breast before moving it down so it caressed the rest of your torso, and down your pelvis finally stopping before the place you needed his touch most.

This was your way of giving him an out, the two of you could stop right here if he wanted to, the slight nod of his head told you otherwise. 

Your grip on his hand changed as you grabbed his forefinger and middle finger, your free hand parting your lower lips as you traced his fingers through your slick, a filthy moan escaping into the bedroom as Carmy’s calloused fingers finally stroked you.

“Do you feel that Carmy?” He nodded his head, eyes not leaving yours for a minute. “It's all for you, you made me feel this good.” 

You moved his fingers lower watching his face as you glided his two fingers into you, biting your lower lip at the hunger in you that was finally being tended to.

Carmy’s mouth fell open as he watched the ecstasy wash over your face, lost in the feeling of touching you in the most intimate way he had ever touched anyone before. His head dropped, eyes watching as you slowly swallowed his fingers, in and out the movement making him achingly hard. 

Carmy’s lips dropped to your ear a shy whisper caressing your ear, “I want to be inside you.” The vulnerability in Carmy’s voice caused you to bite your lip, satisfied that he was finally speaking up about what he wanted. 

“You are.” You teased him, clenching around his digits as his eyes drank you in.

You let out a whine as he removed his fingers from your grip, hand pressing your hip into the bed as he stared you down. “Please…I want this…with you.” The words unsaid weighing heavily between you two.  

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” You watched as he slipped out of his boxers, stroking himself as you watched and waited for your instructions. You motioned for him to lay atop you more noses brushing as he got into position, “I’ll guide you, but I need you to go slow okay, it’ll be a tight fit.” 

Carmy nodded his head, neither of you daring to ask about any contraception too lost in the thoughts of finally connecting in ways the two of you had only dreamed of.

You would come to regret the consequences of this decision later.

A smile split your lips before you surged up to capture Carmy’s lips, needing to distract yourself.

You guided him to your entrance only allowing the tip to go in to not overwhelm Carmy. Your mouth fell open in the shape of an ‘o’ as Carmy eagerly thrust into you, your hand raised to his shoulder to stop his movements.

“Carm, slowly, please.” His eyes met yours taking in the slight pain that his intrusion had caused, he nodded hand raising to cup your cheek.

“You look so beautiful like this.” A tender moment was shared between the two of you as you urged Carmy to continue his journey, shuddered moans escaping the both of you as he reached the hilt.

The feeling of finally being full with Carmy made you emotional, both of you just taking a moment to gaze at each other. Appreciating the finality of this all, Carmy leaned down to kiss a tear running down your cheek that escaped, his own eyes welling up, neither of you could find the right words to cement how much this moment meant to the two of you.

Carmy pulsed inside you the movement caused you to clench around him, “You did so good for me Carmy.” The praise went straight to his cock, eyes rolling back at how good a few words made him feel. 

“Can you move for me, Carm, it’ll make us both feel good.” The soft thrust of his hips was enough for you. 

He continued the slow motion of his hips, eyes connected with yours as the ghost of those three words he struggled to say filtered between the two of you. Your hand raised to wipe the single tear sliding down his cheek.

Nothing in the world could take this moment from the two of you. If Aphrodite could tell the story of your love she would describe it as a tangible heartbreaking thing always growing, and most times fleeting. Something both you and Carmy could touch, feel, and breathe. The love filtering between the two of you was clear as day to anyone who had a heart. 

The warm muscular hand pressed into the flesh of your hip bone driving you crazy. The fingers pressed into you harder and harder with each accompanying thrust. One hand pressed into the pillow by your head keeping the body atop of you from crushing you under its weight. You appreciated the cautionary position, but you had longed for this connection for what felt like ages and you would gladly welcome the weight of the perspiring chest burying you further into the mattress.

A golden gleam caught your eye taking you away from how the tattooed knuckles flexed against your hip every few seconds. You looked to see his golden chain dangling back and forth above your face, taunting you. The sway of the metal matched the rocking motion of his hips, the synchronicity of the two things driving you absolutely wild. Eyes concentrated on the gold chain it was almost like a switch was flipped in you and the catalyst was that fucking gold chain.

Your eyes moved to his face, his pupils blown wide as he stared down at you. You parted your lips his intense gaze causing you to clench down on him unconsciously, his eyes rolling back as his hand left its spot on your hip traveling up your torso thumb softly brushing over your nipple as it found its destination cupping your cheek with such intensity you were sure the shape of his thumb would be imprinted onto your jaw.

His eyes found yours once more, his thumb moving a few inches to softly caress your bottom lip. Your mouth opened on instinct to leisurely suck on his digit a hoarse ‘Fuck’ leaving the warm body that was making you feel so good. You released his thumb, feeling it tug at your bottom lip as his hand found its way back to your cheek.

You watched him above you, the ecstasy in his eyes warming your skin, you’d do anything to be able to please him if he always looked at you in that way. The flash of gold from his chain caught your attention again, the angle of his thrust causing you to gasp, a softly whispered moan of “Carmy,” leaving your lips. Carmy’s chain hovered above your open mouth begging to be taken between your teeth, you appeased your desires, your tongue latching onto the chain as you brought it to settle between your teeth. Carmy’s hips fucking into you at a slightly faster pace, your leg wrapping around his waist the heel of your foot pressing into his back to bring the two of you impossibly closer. 

“Fuck-Baby, shit!” Watching Carmy struggle for words had never been as sexy as it was at that moment. Knowing that you were the cause of his incoherent muttering. 

“Please, Carmy,” another gasp ripped through you, your teeth losing hold of Carmy’s signature gold chain. “Mmm yes, Carmen. Just like that.” You settled for whispering in his ear, the new position you had chosen had his head resting against your collarbone, his ear directly next to your mouth. You could feel Carmy’s hand moving from your cheek to clench your jaw between his thumb and remaining fingers. His hand moved your head to reveal your neck the feeling of soft wet kisses making a path to your ear, Carmy’s thrust slowing slightly.

You could feel his breath against your cheek, the soft whine he let out as your cunt clenched around him. His lips pressed against the shell of your ear, “Say that again.” His rough voice traveled through you, the thumping of your clit beating faster and faster.

“Just like that.” You moaned wanting to please him as much as he wanted to please you. 

His fingers dug into your chin, the roughness of his touch causing a high-pitched moan to leave your lips. “Sa-say my name?” The request made your head spin.

“Carm-,” Carmy’s hand returned to its earlier position holding himself above you causing your leg to drop back to the bed.

“N-no,” the strain in his voice was evident as he tilted your head down to stare directly into your eyes. “M-my name sa-say it. Please.” 

You bit your lip his whiny plea going straight to your clit. Your hand reachesdup to match his fingers gripping his chin firmly. Your blown pupils searching his wide doe eyes. It was hard to distinguish where the blue began and the black ended. Your faces were inches apart, you could tell from his breathing that your grip on his chin stirred something inside him. The soft rocking of his hips into yours caused your bottom lips to caress each other in the rhythm he had set.

“Carmen.” The syllables of his name left your mouth in a wanton moan, there was a moment where the thrusting of Carmy’s hips came to a slow stop before he surged forward and messily captured your lips in a kiss full of tongues and moans. Carmy’s hips began rutting into yours, the speed and intensity sending you both into a spiral. Your hand lost its grip on his chin to slither between your bodies matching Carmy’s pace and applying it to your clit. 

The grip on your chin was gone as Carmy’s hand followed the path yours had previously taken sending a soft squeeze to your breast. “Te-teach me how.” God you could’ve cum from that sentence alone. You began rapidly nodding your head before placing your hand atop his own guiding his index and middle finger into generously massaging your clit. 

“Car-Carmen, don’t stop please don’t stop.” Your voice leaves you in a sharp cry.

“Yeah? Is this good?” Your unabashed moan did more to answer Carmy’s question than any words could.

“Carmeee, I’m gonna come, please.” The banging of the headboard against the wall an indication of just how fast Carmy was thrusting into you.

“Whe-where should I-,” You could hear the slight panic in Carmy’s voice, assuming he was on the cusps of an orgasm as well.

“In me Carmy jus- all of it.” His fingers pressed into your clit going at a pace your brain couldn’t keep up with.

The speed of Carmy’s breathing increased. His head finding its way back into the crook of your neck, lips scattering kisses across your neck, “I’ll give it to you all. M’ gonna give you everything.” The sound of Carmen’s voice so quiet you weren’t sure if he had intended anyone else’s ears to hear it.

Whatever Carmen’s intentions his words were the last thing you needed to hear before bliss took over your senses. Your orgasm washed over you in waves, the intensity causing loud moans to escape your lips, clenching Carmy’s cock so hard you were sure it must’ve been painful. 

Riding the high of your orgasm, Carmen’s deep drawn-out groan vibrated into your neck as you felt him give two final rapid thrusts before the dam he had been holding back finally burst inside you. You felt his thrust slow down as he began peppering kisses across your face, “Thank you, thank you.” His voice trailed off into a whisper before his full body weight settled into you.

Now that the bed was no longer threatening to put a hole through his wall, the only sound filling the bedroom was the panting breaths you and Carmy were letting out.

Carmy looked up at you, the wetness on his cheeks matching yours. His forehead leaned against yours the vulnerability the two of you had for each other on full show. Breaths of love were shared between you as your lips gently touched. You knew the words you wanted to say at this moment, felt them so deep in your soul that your tears wouldn’t cease their downpour.

But you also knew how flighty the beautiful man in front of you was, it hurt but you would once again have to swallow your love for this man to ensure he remained in your life.

You laughed as Carmy hovered atop of you the Polaroid he gifted you in his hands the device raised to his eye. Your arm was thrown over your face the fact that the two of you were in this position at all still mind blowing . Carmy nudged your arm, he had been snapping photos of you for a while now, both of you ignoring the fact that he should have been getting ready for work instead of laying with your naked body barely covered under him. 

“Show me that smile, pretty girl,” you slowly moved your arm, the smile splitting your face hard to control. “You seem to like my chain so much, I want to remember what you look like in it.” Carmy could be devilish when he wanted to, the way he would sometimes gain confidence and say what was on his mind, throwing you for a loop.

Your eyes left the camera in his hand as you stared at his face, so enchanted with who Carmy was as a person. Only being jolted out of your trance as the Polaroid fluttered out of the camera and landed on the center of your chest. 

Carmy moved the camera smiling down at you before picking up the photo and examining it, the corner of his lips ticking up in a half smile. He placed the picture on the other pillow where all the other Polaroids were sprawled out. You watched as he set the camera down next to your head cupping your jaw before leaning down and pressing a firm kiss into your forehead a mumbled ‘Perfect’ escaped his lips. 

“Will you take a picture with me Carmy,” your words came out shyly hoping he would agree. You felt his nose nuzzle into your neck planting a small kiss on your tattoo before moving to lay next to you in the bed. 

You reached over to plant a soft kiss on his cheek before grabbing the camera from its spot by your head. You raised it watching as the soft smile graced Carmy’s face, your eyes not wanting to leave the perfect view of his side profile that you had fallen in love with, finger accidentally slipping, the sound of the camera shutter filled the space between you too.

Carmy pulled the photo out waiting for it to develop as he looked in your direction. A wide grin took over his face just by looking at you, your hand began lowering the camera before his hand shot out and raised your hand, and the camera back up quickly pressing your finger into the button to capture this moment in time. 

You let him grab the camera from your hands before he placed it on the nightstand, once again holding your face in place as the two of you shared your softest kiss yet. 

— — — —

You watched as Carmy maneuvered around his room slipping into a clean pair of chef whites, he was late and you could tell he was panicking on the inside but didn’t want to worry you. The two of you had wasted away in the shower washing each other's bodies and holding each other under the hot spray of water. Neither of you wanted to leave the confines of the shower, knowing your time together was finally expiring.

You sat on the bed with your legs pulled up to your chest, chin resting atop them, a fresh pair of panties, and his deep green crew neck from last night your only form of clothing. The tension between the two of you had been broken the moment Carmy realized just how behind schedule he was, shoving reality down your throat as the game of pretending the two of you had been playing was finally snuffed out.

Carmy’s eyes landed on you in his rush clocking the glaze of your eyes, head not rationalizing why you might be upset at the moment. Finally gathering all his necessities he rushed over to you kneeling in front of you pressing one last kiss onto your forehead.

“I’ll be home soon, yeah.” You closed your eyes, the words breaking your heart into pieces.

“Yeah, be safe okay?” Carmy smiled, capturing your lips in his for the last time tonight hand cupping the back of your head to hold you in place.

The two of you separated small side smiles mirroring each other, both of you knew that Carmy would return home to an empty apartment tonight, but neither of you would voice that truth. 

You followed him to the front door needing to see him off before your return to Chicago. He opened the door lingering between the door and the hallway hand gripping yours before pressing a soft kiss into the pulse point at your wrist.

You shared small smiles as Carmy made his way to leave, sending you one last wave before he disappeared down the hallway.

Your closed the door, forehead pressing into it as you stood there trying to gain your bearings, doing your best to control your tears as you knew this moment was inevitable.

A soft “I love you, Carmen.” Breathed into the empty apartment soft enough for it to feel like a ghost had whispered those words and not you.

But not quiet enough that the man who returned on the other side of the door missed the declaration. 

Heart thudding in his chest. His hand ready to turn the keys in the doorknob dropped to his side. His feet shuffled backward as he took one last glance at the door before reverting to his journey to work.

He could go one day without his signature chain that he had so lovingly placed around your delicate neck.

a/n: idk what to say really…enjoy : ) [actually no this is my first smut so please let’s learn from carmy’s mistakes and don’t come for me 😉] i’m like the only person on the planet who thinks i’m funny that’s how laughable it is 😭

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[elaeomyxa]

Reveal it to Me Please Right Now

(AO3 has temporarily taken down my fic because one of my tags was too mean to those poor, poor little pr*sh*pp*rs, and now I can't edit it to get rid of the tags for ~two weeks~ so uh. Here's this.)

There were many things that Ingo wasn't quite sure of.

He was a stranger, an amnesiac; without the graciousness of the Pearl Clan and his Lady, he surely would have wasted away, buried by the blizzard that had brought him here. His very existence centered around a vague uncertainty, a white frost creeping its way between his synapses.

There was one thing, though, that he was absolutely certain about.

Akari hated him.

Akari hated him, and there was no other fault it could be than his own.

(Quick word of warning- this is sorta dark! This is not to sound rude or anything towards those who only want to read happier fics, it's just that this is. Not going to be one of them.)

Dreams were horribly finicky things. In them, Ingo would most always be as he was before. He would remember everything exactly as it had always been.

But therein laid the issue.

Ingo would remember everything exactly as it had always been. Therefore, he would hardly see what was so special about those memories. Honestly, it would be a stretch to say that he remembered, per se. Remembering something implies an action, implies a conscious effort; in his dreams, his memories were more passive, more just facts of life, and there was hardly a reason to make note of something that just was. In a similar way, the blooming pain in his mind, in his chest, weren't exactly happening, they just were. He didn't remember much of anything, but he shouldn't have to remember. He should be able to just know.

Perhaps that was why he cherished his coat so much. He didn't have to take note of the familiar weight on his shoulders, the shade in his eyes from the brim of his cap. He didn't have to consciously think of them for them to exist. The same could probably go for his odd mannerisms, his poses and turns of phrase that were like second nature to him. They tended to confuse or even downright bother most of the other Hisuians, but he could never bring himself to give them up.

Well, for the most part.

His permanent frown was an issue. All of his other eccentricities were harmless quirks, but this was just rude of him. For all that the Pearl Clan had done for him, he had to show his gratitude in some way. He had to give something up, even if every upward quirk of his lips felt like another drop of lead into his lungs. He could get over himself if it could guarantee the comfort of those around him.

Except, that is, when it didn't. For some reason, no matter what he did, Akari hated him. More than that, worse than that, she seemed to be scared of him. Not in the way that the Pearl Clan had been distrustful of him, or the way more skittish pokemon ran away from him if he came to close. It was different to the fear of the unknown from them. The way Akari looked at him, it was all too knowing. Knowing of what, Ingo couldn't say.

(If Ingo had been able to remember his dream, he would have remembered waiting on a subway platform. The driver for the doubles line had turned in her two weeks notice, so Emmet had taken it upon himself to personally train her replacement. Ingo didn't have to check the clock to know that they were due any minute now.)

(If Ingo had been able to remember his dream, he would know how he had dreamt of that same day every single night he had been in Hisui.)

—

He had seen Akari around Jubilife village once or twice before being introduced to her officially, but he had never really gotten a good look at her. That had likely been on purpose, looking back, with the way she had always ducked her head and hurried past.

He must have done something wrong, because she hadn't seemed to dislike him at first. Rather, she looked cautious. She had been on the fence about something, but he couldn't for the life of him remember what he had done. It was as if something had slotted into her mind bit by bit, with each shift being so small that he couldn't have noticed until the final blow had long since been landed.

He had though it was the stress, at first. She was so young, and having such responsibility thrust upon her could hardly have been pleasant. Learning of another person having fallen from the sky surely hadn't done much to help her situation. He had turned to Irida to confirm, knowing she herself had been upon similar tracks as the young girl before him, but she just looked as confused as he had. Surely, if it was just stress, then it would have presented itself before now. There had to be some way to calm her mind, something he could do for her.

"So," she had almost sounded sick, like her own words had been bile forcing its way out of her throat, "you're really from the future?"

Ah, this made sense. She had been stuck here for who knows how long, and this was her first time finding someone truly like her, who could understand her plight. She just needed some reassurance.

"Indeed I am, though that's about as much as I can recall. Who knows, perhaps we could both have disembarked from the very same station!"

Whatever the correct response would have been, that was apparently not it. In fact, Akari looked even worse now, the haunted look in her eyes crashing into his chest like-

…Where was he? Yes, distressed child, very bad. He couldn't afford to get off track.

"What's wrong, Lady Akari?" he asked, hoping his attempt at a quiet tone would stop her from startling further. "You look as if you've seen a ghost."

Akari sobbed.

—

Ingo had tended to avoid the zoroark as best he could. He clutched onto his memories like his Lady protected her young, hissing and spitting at anything that dared to reach so much as a single hair into their nest. The only ones she let into her den were those that she truly trusted, and those were few and far between. It would hardly take the discretion of Lady Sneasler to know that zoroark weren't to be trusted. And so, he had avoided that part of the highlands, no matter the cost of the detour. He would much rather trudge through the dense blankness of a blizzard than be forced to confront that of his own mind. However, Akari needed help. She was sturdy, yes, but the paths around were not something he would want to put a child her age through, steep and rocky and so, so blank. It would be much easier to fight their way through.

He pulled his coat tighter around himself, looking back to check up on his passenger. He could hardly see through the thick blizzard around them, polluting the air like heavy plumes of smog. He could see well enough to tell how she avoided his eyes, but more importantly, he could see well enough to tell that she was warm. Wanting to get back on track, to get through this den as quickly as possible, he shifted his gaze back in front of him, looking to see-

A man stood there, head turned away to focus on something to their right. He wore a copy of what Ingo's hat and jacket had once been, restored to their former glory and in a bright, bright white. White filled his vision, filled his mind, almost blotting out the man entirely. He could hardly see the man, and something about that didn't feel right. It was as if it wasn't the right color, as if the correct white would have stood out, brightly shining against the already blinding snow. Ingo took a step back, hardly registering the sound of the snow crunching beneath his foot. It was hard to register anything with the snow filling his eyes, his lungs, his mind-

The man heard, though. Ingo didn't quite see his head turn, really. One moment, it was looking away, then the next, it had been facing directly towards him.

It wore his face.

It wore his face.

And it shrieked.

"Stop! Stop the-"

static filled his ears

"Stop, please! Hit the-"

snow piled up inside his stomach

"You have to-"

hail beat against his ribs

"You can't! You can't, please-"

shards of ice tore the lining of his throat

"Stop! Stop-"

electricity coursed through his veins

"He'll di-"

The man was cut off by a pokeball smacking into his head, pulling him inside and tearing something out of Ingo with it.

It shook once, twice, three times. Click.

Ingo felt the snow beneath his hands, turning back to look at Akari as he stood on unsteady legs. She stood there, frozen, arm outstretched as if she had just thrown something.

Oh.

"Thank you," his voice was raspy, swallowing down ice just to scrape out those two words.

Tears streamed freely down Akari's face.

He felt pins and needles across his entire body.

Static.

—

Akari hated him. She hated him, and she probably had every right to, but Ingo couldn't possibly imagine why. He thought they had grown closer since the zoroark incident. She seemed to be more comfortable with him, at the very least. He must have been mistaken, if it was too much to ask for a single photograph with her.

Ingo liked pictures. With how untrustworthy his memory was, he enjoyed having something concrete to hold onto. They were physical, tangible things- they didn't have to be remembered, they just were. A photograph could make a moment last for an eternity.

Akari must not have thought the same. She had seemed uneasy the moment she had stepped into the studio, but something about his suggestion had set her off. He was usually the better of the tw- He was usually fairly decent at reading people's expressions, but something about how she had looked in that moment was truly foreign to him. She had looked shocked, offended, hurt, disturbed…

She had looked like a train wreck.

And then she had disappeared.

After the first few days of searching, it had become apparent that she hadn't wanted to be found. There are only so many times two people can miss each other in the same village without it being on purpose. Ingo had figured it was best to let her be. It wasn't like she'd be in any danger without him- what difference would his supervision make when she practically had the whole population of Hisui looking after her?

Until she didn't. Until the sky went red, and she was shunned by the very same people she had tried so hard to help for a crime he refused to believe she would commit. Until they had thrown a child out into the wilderness, and had threatened to do the same to him if he had tried to help. He hadn't barged into the commander's office the moment he had learned of her exile with the intent of being a coward, though. He could let things lie, but he refused to let Akari lie in the shallow grave they had dug her.

Above Mount Coronet swirled a rip in the very fabric of the universe. A single torn thread, threatening catch and run until it had spread its way through the entire garment.

The one place he could always trust Akari to be was at the center of everything.

—

Once Ingo had his destination in mind, there was nothing that could have gotten him off of his set track. He couldn't be stopped by Kamado's threats, by the sheer cliffs and rocky landscape, by the wrongness slowly seeping its way through the sky, by the growing static in his limbs, his ears, his mind-

(by the man in white screaming, begging beside him)

Once he was started, there was no way he could be stopped. There was no hitting the breaks. Unfortunately, the same could be said for Akari.

(and something tugged at the back of his mind at that kind of determination, like there was some connection to be made, but all that remained was the frayed end of a severed strand)

He stood at the bottom of a stairway. Despite the very sky above him writhing in agony, the air stood stiller than it ever had, then it ever should be. Perhaps his existence here was no more than a patch on the steadily fraying fabric of this land, and the only thing stopping him from being unraveled was the fact that he was just a scrap, only tethered here by the messy stitching of an uneven seam. He could still feel the wrongness, though. After such a slow and grueling climb, his chest clenched in anticipation, his stomach felt like it was frozen in the very moment before it dropped. The entire world waited with baited breath as he stalled for just one moment.

It took only one step up for his stomach to fall into the ground, for his ears to pop and his heart to beat and for him to hear the screaming.

It took each and every one of them for him to finally be able to breathe.

He noticed Akari first, crumpled on the floor with her hands over her ears.

He noticed the towering creature next, impossible to describe, what with how it hurt his eyes to look at directly.

Lastly, he noticed-

"The time has come, Akari!" A man standing on the platform, clad in white.

"The wicked are to be cast out, and only the good- the devoted are to remain!" He spoke with feverish intensity, voice raw and eyes red.

"Tell me, Akari," something about him seemed familiar, blond hair flowing in the wind behind him.

"Which are you?" malice dripped from his cold grin as darkness oozed from the fault in the sky.

A smile can mean anything, if you know where to look. A slight twitch of the lips or squint of an eye can mean anything from joy to devastation to freezing cold anger. Knowing how a grin can tell the truth just makes it all the more obvious how a grin can lie.

Perhaps what had been so confusing to Ingo was how, for the first time in the long time he had known the man, his grin finally matched his eyes.

"Volo?"

Akari curled in on herself further as Volo's head whipped towards him. His eyes went from horrifically wide to devious slits in a single moment. The blond's laugh sent a chill up his spine.

"Well, if it isn't the man of the hour, our esteemed guest," he hissed out, tone crackling with mockery.

"Come on, Akari," he crouched next to the young girl, gripping her hair to yank her gaze towards Ingo, "look your sins in the eye, why don't you?"

Ingo tried to shout at him to let her go, tried to intervene, tried to do anything, but he was frozen solid.

"You'd really think that Arceus would choose you over Its most loyal follower?" He cooed, shaking his head with a laugh.

"This is your punishment, fool. And you can't even bear to face the gallows with pride." He released Akari's hair, sneering as she buried her face in her arms once again.

For a moment, the only sound was the deafening silence of reality tearing itself apart. Volo sat there, his grin replaced with a tired grimace. For a moment, his rage chipped away to reveal uncertainty. Then, in the all encompassing darkness, a new light emerged behind his eyes.

"Perhaps," his grin returned slowly, steadily as the rising excitement in his voice, "perhaps ridding you of your encumbrance will rid you of the anchor keeping you here."

"Perhaps," Akari tried to get to her feet as Volo stood straight, only for her to be brought toppling down again with a kick to her side, "this was a test for me all along!"

"My first holy task," his voice and demeanor were light, weightless as the failing gravity around them, "was to be judge, jury, and executioner."

For the first time in his life, Volo's smile was one of pure, genuine joy.

In a moment, the beast at the edge of the temple rushed at Ingo, shoving him towards one of the smaller tears in space and time with a frightening ease. The last thing he saw was the beast's cold gray eyes.

—

Ingo felt cold metal beneath his hands, and, in that moment, everything seemed to slow down. His vision blurred and his heart pounded.

Ingo felt more real at that very moment than he had in the past four years combined.

He heard something down the tunnel roaring, sound growing louder as it grew closer and closer. He should try to climb out, he should try to run, but…

But something about the sound was so achingly familiar, so comforting, so correct that he couldn't bring himself to move.

He looked up on the platform, just to see none other than Akari standing there. He considered opening his mouth, calling for help, but only for a moment.

She held her phone out in front of her. Realization dawned in Ingo's mind.

He felt at home, as if every mannerism and tic of his finally had a place. It was so horribly incapacitating that wrenching any action out of him felt like trying to twist off his own arm.

He had to, though. She had been so scared, up on that mountaintop- he had to do something, anything to console her.

And so, sending cracks through his frozen body, he smiled.

Smiled for the camera.

The sound was much closer now, so clear in his ears, so free of static. It felt like warm water washing over his aching joints to finally be deafened by fullness rather than aching emptiness.

The light blinded him, burning at his skin and setting his soul ablaze.

He turned his head to the side, looking directly at-

At something. He didn't know what he was looking at, and the realization sent a spike of ice through his heart.

He tried desperately to light up a memory in his mind, to defrost the knowledge he knew he had. Every desperate attempt fizzled out, sparks falling into the freezing snow with soft hisses. He tried and tried, hoping that, maybe if he struck flint against steel until his hands chafed and bled, one of the sparks would be the one to set the damp wood ablaze. It seemed like nothing was working.

But then it hit him.

[celticcrossanon]

UGH. Thomas Markle said he's flying to the UK for the Jubilee, CC. This landmark event for Her Majesty's 70 years of service is turning into an absolute joke. The poor Queen keeps getting overshadowed by all these nitwits (e.g. H&M, Andrew, Charles, Thomas Markle) who don't have the decency to shut up and stay in the background and let the Jubilee be about the Queen and her incredible reign. I now want the Queen to live to see her next Jubilee, if only to be properly celebrated by herself then.

Hi Nonny,

It is revolting, isn't it? I am going to ignore all the distractions and focus on Her Majesty, which is what she deserves. I can't control what other people do or what the media reports, but I can control how I approach the Platinum Jubilee, and for me it is going to be all about Her Majesty.

Her next Jubilee is in five years, I think - 75 years. I have no idea what they will call it (I think it is also a Diamond anniversary). Here's hoping that you get your wish and Her Majesty recovers her mobility, loses her pain and lives to enjoy it.

1st Paper 2nd Cotton 3rd Leather 4th Linen 5th Wood 6th Iron 7th Copper 8th Bronze 9th Willow or Pottery 10th Tin 11th Steel 12th Silk 13th Lace 14th Ivory 15th Crystal 20th China 25th Silver 30th Pearl 35th Coral 40th Ruby 45th Sapphire 50th Gold 55th Emerald 60th Diamond 70th Platinum 75th Diamond

Edit: "China" here means bone china or porcelain. It specifically means place settings for the table, but you could expand it to anything made from china or porcelain.

[thedemonstherapist]

The Colour Of Trust

Summary: To demons, humans are a feast in every literal sense. You make no exception.

Wordcount: ~1000 

Pairing: Implicated demon brothers + Barbatos + Diavolo x GN!MC/Reader 

Warnings: None to note (if necessary, let me know)

Author’s Note: Popping in from my Hiatus to deliver you this. Not edited nor proofread, just an idea I’ve been working at. Colourful wordvomit.

To demons, human emotions are palpable. 

They’re colourful. Bright reds, deep shades of green, melancholic hues of lilac. Dark blue pearls off a figure like drops of water, or glows from under the skin of a palm. There’s sunny yellow, vibrating in the throat. Soft pink, painted along collarbones and shoulders. Humans are a rainbow of every colour, shifting, as a chameleon would, from one to another in seconds, mixing orange with black, brown and blue, grey and purple, silver, green, gold, white, red, pink, becoming something new entirely. They’re always noticeable to a demon’s eye, lavish, alluring, opposing, annoying, pleasing. 

They’re tasteful. Happiness dissolves on the tongue, or becomes harder to chew the more you try. Sadness can have so many variations - one time, it’s salty, the next, bitter, then sweet. Generally, the sinful, negative, hurtful, painfilled ones are the most delicious to the demon kind. Jealousy is sour, delightfully so, mingled with anger it becomes an explosive sensation of acidity. Lust tastes overripe, foul with sweetness, dripping down the neck and hips. Wrath is pungent, sometimes wet, sometimes solid, always overwhelming and intense. Greed is addicting, citrousy, never filling, always lacking some edge, something more. Gluttony is the opposite - too much, too much, too much of it all, assaulting the senses, lucious in its entirety. Pride, pride tastes like expense, gnawing on stone or metal, but honeyed. Sloth is familiar, cinnamon and lavender, nostalgia but past that, tart and obnoxious. Smell is often washed away by taste, aligning with it, but barely traceable.

It is rare to be able to hear them. To hear the deep, sonorous bell of blame. The high, melodic song of adoration. The fluttering caution, the whine of grief, the rustling of excitement. Hate is roaring, anxiety ringing, both constantly shifting in pitch. They are so inditing, if you manage to catch them, but most get hidden behind the body’s sounds, heartbeat, breath, gurgling, vibrations, tearing. 

Humans are a feast of emotion. Many demons partake in it, lick the sourness off their skin, watch neon pink and green draw lines through faces, listen to quivers, chimes, cries mingle and fade, if they can. 

Most learn to control it, to heighten and lower their perception as they please, but it is fundamental, bred into their beings, to see emotion and to act upon it, to lure depending on which shade of colour, taste, smell, sound is most prominent. 

So how could they not notice it on you too?

As much as they collectively try to act as though they couldn’t, that they didn't know what rushes through your mind and body at a moment's notice, they’ll inevitably fail. They can’t be human, as much as they would like to be that for you. And their own desires flourish when yours become more obvious, never able to hide. 

The problem is, you become addicting the second you allow them to partake in their senses. 

It’s difficult to keep their hands away when you visibly crave affection. To not rile you up further when anger flavours the air around you. To reassure instead of patronise you, just to keep watching that beautiful glow of colours shift. 

And as to their individual sins - well, that’s a battle they’ve already lost. 

Satan loves, indulges in that one type of wrath you feel when nobody listens to you, so fiery, velvet on his tongue. Belphie can never help but tempt you to fall into laziness, just to hear that contented humm of self-blame and undeserved satisfaction. Mammon lusts after that specific shade of yellowish golden that appears in your eyes, and he will do all to bring it forth. Asmo could carelessly sink his fangs into you, if only it meant to taste the sugary syrup that lust brings with it. Levi, usually so shy, would a thousand times show you up, only appeased once bright orange radiates from your veins. Lucifer is consumed by the rhythmic pulse of your overconfidence, even the playful type has a mesmerising melody. Beel would rather run his lips along your cheek, breathe in that delectably heavy, intense aroma, than attend the royal banquet. 

And the royals? Diavolo and Barbatos, what flavour, what song, what shade, do they prefer? 

Nothing less than your absolute surrender.

That desire doesn’t escape the brothers either - The Lords of Sin, as they are. To see you crumble, falter under it. To give up morality, good will, patience and virtue, to become that royal blue, sickly sweetness, loud buzz as the only thing you are. They want to see you writhe in pain and pleasure together and still crave more. To abandon all to become nothing and everything. 

To give them the thing that tastes the best, the thing that made you human. 

It hurts to know you’re never safe from that, that you might not be more than dessert to them. That they could snap, become more infatuated with what you can’t control than who you are, bend you to their will with little effort. But still, there is seduction in danger, some deep, dark desire that only rises when fangs get bared, wings flare, tails smack the floor. Loss of restraint, whether by lust or love. 

Maybe the reason you stay is not despite it, but because of it. Maybe it’s the reason you give them more than you have to. To allow boundaries to slowly fall, to engage in tiny parts of their desires, then more, then more. The moment you know you could never hide feelings is seperate from when you begin to stop trying to. They are demons, after all, but they’re your friends as well, maybe more. 

It’s a mess, of course it is. Nothing stays straightforward and easy. But that’s what makes it beautiful to them - colour, sound, taste, forming to paint you in what you feel, continuously different, never the same. 

Always a masterpiece. 

You wonder what colour trust has.