#Clementine's Bookshelf

[imperativesentience]

Hilary Pecis, Clementine’s Bookshelf, 2021

[ssuperficialspacecadett]

Clementine Kisses

Chapter Seven of the Through the Scope Series | Chapter Eight

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 5.8K

Chapter Overview: You wake up in a strange bedroom and investigate

TW: smut !! oral (f receiving), f in v, p in v, depictions of breasts but without their size

Notes: now i know this isnt a gif of frankie, but i am the law of the land and i want to use it. okay LMAO we finally made it to the smut hehe i mean i feel like yall knew this was coming tbh,, i havent written it in a while so i might be a bit rusty, but im still pleased with how it turned out. its just so much fun to write. as usual ... my asks are always open & happy reading <3 (oh and listen to lemon boy by cavetown bc it was on repeat while i wrote this chapter)

*no use of y/n & female presenting reader*

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Your head is spinning, but your body is so comfortable. When did your shitty mattress get this soft? Without even having to open your eyes you can tell that the sun is up. You must have forgotten to close the blinds when you got home last night. Wait a second…you don’t remember coming home. Still choosing to keep your eyes shut for fear of seeing a stranger next to you in bed, you hoist the covers up and over your head. Maybe if you just pretend you didn’t do anything stupid last night it will become a reality. 

You inhale deeply, slightly wincing at the throbbing in your head, and your eyes pop open. It may be pitch black under the sheets, but you are starting to see things more clearly. You know this smell. It’s a smell that has haunted the deepest corners of your mind since you first encountered it. Since you first encountered him. It’s musky, but not in a dirty way. It fills your nose and soothes the anxiety you felt creeping its way into your belly. You breathe in deeply again. There were subtle hits of…tire rubber? Well he works in an auto body shop so that checks out.

You decide to hold your breath to see if you can hear anyone breathing softly beside you. A few seconds go by with the only sound being the steady beat of your heart. Hoping that you correctly assumed that you’re alone, you peel back the covers to reveal a foreign sun lit room. You look beside you and breathe a sigh of relief when you see that the right side of the bed has been left undisturbed. As much as you wanted to have sex with him, that was definitely something you wanted to remember. Using your elbows as support, you scoot your body into a sitting position and lean your back against his headboard. Looking at the nightstand beside the bed, you see three things: a glass full of water, two tylenol pills, and a small slip of paper. Without thinking twice you pop the painkillers in your mouth and chase them down with the now room temperature water. Nothing has ever tasted so refreshing. You trade the empty glass for the piece of paper. Aloud you read what it says.

You fell asleep in the truck. I’ll explain everything in the morning. On the couch if you need me. -Frankie

He had drawn a little smiley face next to his name. You laugh quietly to yourself as you set the note back down on the small table. Looking down you see your shoes neatly placed in front of it. There is a shirt you don’t recognize folded and carefully placed on top of them. You reach down and unfold it in your lap. 

“Hmm.” You run your fingers over the faded design on the front of it. “Fleetwood Mac. You have good taste in music, Frankie.” 

After giving the room one final once over to make sure no one is inside you shimmy out of yesterday's shirt and bra and dawn the one left out for you. Then you throw the rest of the covers back, climb out of bed, and take off your jeans. It wasn’t your fault he didn’t have any shorts for you. His shirt comes to rest a few inches above your knees as you start quietly tiptoeing around his room. You know snooping is wrong, but you just can’t help yourself. Your still socked feet guide you over to a thin, vertical bookshelf that sits directly in front of the side of the bed that you slept on. Dust has started to collect on the shelves and the books themselves. You run your fingers across the spines of them until you see one that peaks your interest. 

“What do we have here, Frankie? A Helicopter flying handbook?” 

You slide the heavy duty book from its seemingly perpetual resting place and crack it open. A lot of the pages are dog-eared and highlighted to high heaven. You close it and set it back where you found it. As you look closer you see that the majority of the books he has relate to helicopters, aviation, and the mechanics of flying aircrafts. A pang of sadness and realization shoots through you as you realize that you know so little about him. You know so little about what he did when he was on missions, fuck, you didn’t even know that he knew how to fly. But you want to. You want to know everything there is to know about him whether it be big or small or beautiful or ugly.

Moving over to his dresser, curiosity building, you see a group photo. You pick it up and you mentally name Frankie, Santi, Will, Benny, and who’s that? A gruff looking man smiles and has his arm around your coworker. He appears older than the other men he’s standing with. You’ve never met him or even heard the guys talk about him before. Right as your mind starts to pick apart who the fifth man in the photo could be, the sun reflects off something else on the dresser and catches your eye. You set the photo down and look for the culprit. When you find it, you feel your knees get weak. Sitting on top of a familiar looking post-it note there is a beer bottle cap. You gasp to yourself as you pick it up. This must have been the cap of the beer that he opened for you when you attended the fights with him. You thought you had seen him slip it into his pocket, but you figured that it was just because that was an easier alternative than leaving to throw it away. He saved it as a memento and kept it by your number. Two things that another man would consider trash, he kept and cherished. 

The smell of coffee tickles your nose and you can hear faint clanging coming from the kitchen. You decide that you have been hiding and snooping long enough, so you set the cap down and make your way to the door. The room you were in appears to be on the left side of the hallway. You walk quietly down the hall and notice that the walls are barren. The noises get louder as you close the space between yourself and the kitchen. His house’s layout makes you walk through the living room, which has the front door, before you reach the kitchen. There’s no door when you approach so you’re able to see Frankie engrossed in his task. Well, his back to be more precise. He has on a tired looking t-shirt and some boxers. One side of his hair is sticking up in a way that causes you to stifle a laugh. For a man that slept on the couch last night, he seems to be quite chipper. His low humming only makes that fact more apparent. You get comfortable by leaning against the shared living room and kitchen wall, but it’s short lived. The man in front of you turns around and bursts both of y’alls bubbles of ignorant bliss. 

“Oh!” He’s holding a mug in each hand. “Good morning! Or I guess it’s technically the afternoon now.”

“Good morning to you too.” You follow him when he beckons you to join him at the kitchen table. “So…do I want to know how I ended up here?” 

Frankie watches as you sit down across from him at the table in his shirt. If he’s being honest it makes his cock twitch to see you like this. He is in awe at how beautiful you look after waking up. Sure, your hair is wilder and your mascara is smudged, but fuck if you aren’t a breath of fresh air. He finds himself getting irrationally jealous that his bed was the one that got to hold you while you slept. He wanted to wake up to that face in the morning. Every morning.

“It’s not as bad as it looks.” He slides a mug over to you and scratches the back of his head.

“If waking up in the most comfortable bed I’ve ever slept in and then being greeted by a cup of coffee is bad, then I don’t ever want to end up in a good looking situation again.” 

His shoulders relax when you say this, as if he was anxiously waiting to see how you would react to the situation. “Well, Pope and I tried to drop you off at your apartment, but you didn’t have your house keys in your tote. So, this was the next best option.”

“Oh my God! I knew it seemed lighter than usual when I left the gym! Damn, Benny for rushing me last night.” 

“Your bag is over on the entryway table if you want it. It’s got your phone.”

“No, I’m alright.” You say before sipping your drink. “I’m in good company.” 

He looks at you bashfully before indulging in his own cup of coffee. You take the cozy silence as an opportunity to look around his kitchen. It’s oddly reminiscent of yours. No art, no decorations. Save for a small basket of fruit on his counter. The only room that has given you a glimpse into his mind has been his room. 

“Did you,” He follows your eyes. “Did you want an orange? I can never get around to eating them in time and it would be a shame for them to go to waste.”

“How about we share one? I’ve never been very hungry when I first wake up, but I’ll make an exception.” 

He stands just enough to give himself the extra length to reach the fruit. You take it from him when he offers it and start peeling. When you finish, you split it in half and offer one side to him. 

“I told you that you enjoy taking care of people last night.” You eat one of your citrus slices. 

He tries to look nonchalant as he mirrors your actions. “Maybe there is some sense to all that star stuff you like. Tal vez eres una estrella.”

“And what makes you think I’m a star?” Your stomach feels like it's made of knots. 

“Well…you have this brightness about you.” You can see it in his eyes that he’s struggling with telling you what he's thinking. Not because he doesn’t want to say it, but because he doesn’t know how to. “I seem to see you most often after the sun has already gone down, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know that you’re there when the sun is still up. Sometimes, I get lucky enough to see you during the day.” 

You breathe in a shaky breath as he presses forward in his explanation. 

“I find myself getting sucked into your gravitational pull whenever I’m around you.” 

Both of you have unconsciously started to lean towards each other.

“And you’re…”

“I’m what, Frankie?”

“You’re beautiful.”

“You think I’m beautiful?” It comes out shakier than you intend.

His eyes crinkle at the corners when he hears your reaction to his confession. “I’ve been in awe of you from the moment I met you and every moment after, mi estrella.” 

“My star.” You repeat what he just called you in spanish. You have to do something to distract from the intense feeling of bawling that suddenly consumes you. 

“What’s wrong? Why are you crying?” He stands up and cups your face in his hands.

“Say you mean it.” You say looking at him.

His deep pools of chestnut trace your face as he stares back at you. “I mean it, mi estrella. Every syllable.”

You stand, his hands still in place, and kiss him. You finally kiss him. There is no way that you could have waited any longer. His lips mold with yours hungrily. As he opens his mouth to you, you can taste coffee and sweet oranges. You can’t help but moan into him when he slides his hands down your body to cup your ass and pull you tight against him. His teeth catch your bottom lip and pull on it gently. He groans when your own hands snake their way up his chest and wrap around his neck. You intertwine your fingers in his thick curls, grateful that you now have unbridled access to them without his cap.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to kiss you.” His chest heaves against your body and you can feel him hardening against your bare leg.

You open your mouth for him again and tilt your head so you can deepen the kiss. His tongue explores your mouth and you eagerly let him. The sounds he’s making while he palms your ass are sinful. You feel yourself clench around nothing at the thought of the sounds he will make while he fucks you. He scoops you off the ground and your legs wrap around his waist as he sets you down on the table. The cool wood sends a shiver through your body that makes him smile against your lips. 

“I don’t think I can make it to the bedroom.” He sounds like he's in pain. 

“That makes two of us.” You gasp as he starts to work his way down your neck.

Desperate to quell the growing ache in between your legs you grind your core against him and feel him shutter.

“You want this just as badly as I do, huh?” His breath is hot against your skin.

“I want it so bad.” You bring his face back up to yours and sloppily kiss him. “It’s all I can think about.”

His hand answers your prayers when he starts to rub circles on you through your underwear. He swallows your wanton cries with his mouth. You feel him laugh against you and you already know the cause of it.

“You’re so wet for me and I’ve barely laid a finger on you, cariño. How is that?”

He slides your underwear to the side and easily slides in a finger. You have to lay your head on his shoulder as he curves it up inside you and hits that sweet spot.

“I would have-” Your breath is stolen for a moment when one finger hastily becomes two. “I would have let you do this to me at the bar. Would have let you make me come with your fingers while everyone sat around us.” 

“Fuck.” He whines into your hair. “You’re so filthy. Not caring who’s around or who could see what I’m doing to this sweet pussy.” He removes his fingers from inside of you and you whimper at the loss. You watch, mystified, as he places them in his mouth and licks each one clean with greed. “Lay back for me. I need to taste the real thing.”

His eyes are glazed over with lust right now. The ache in between your legs is so painful and you are desperate for reprieve. You immediately do as he asks and lay your back down on the kitchen table. You take the liberty of lifting your shirt up and exposing your breasts to him. The way he is looking at you makes you feel like you’re the only woman in the world. His eyes wash over your body and you can’t help but squirm underneath his gaze. He leans down and takes one of them in his mouth while he forcefully cups the other. Your back arches when he catches your nipple between his teeth. Never one to neglect, he works his mouth to the other one before he trails his lips agonizingly slow down your body. He peppers kisses right above the start of your underwear and you can’t help but buck your hips up towards him. 

“Patience is a virtue.” He chides looking up at you through hooded lids.

“Please, Frankie.” You plead with him. You hope he can see how badly you're hurting. “Please, touch me. I can’t wait anymore.” 

He smiles to himself as he shifts his attention to what's right in front of him. His thumbs hook into the fabric and he slowly starts to pull them down.

Ding Dong! Ding Dong!

You both freeze and hold your breath to see if the sound was imagined. When its unholy ringing comes again, he rests his forehead on your stomach.

“I’m going to kill them. I’m legitimately going to fucking kill them.” His beard tickles your skin as he speaks. 

“Who-who is it?” You’re trying to catch your breath.

“The guys.” He doesn’t move his head from where he laid it to rest. “They are here to watch the basketball game.”

“Open up, Fish!” Benny yells as he raps on the door. “I know you’re in there, you bastard! Your truck is in the driveway!”

Frankie all but growls as he pulls your underwear back up and helps you sit up straight. If you didn’t know any better you’d think that Benny’s a dead man. You reluctantly hop off the table as Frankie tells them he will be there in a minute. 

“Why don’t I answer it?” You gesture down to his now very strained shorts. “You can change while I handle them.” 

“Oh fuck me.” He rolls his head back.

“That’s what I was trying to do! Now go, go!” 

You push him towards his room and start to head for the door. Two steps in and you feel a strong hand grab your arm and pull your body back. He captures you in a desperate kiss before he releases you. 

“This isn’t finished.” 

“Patience is a virtue, Frankie.” You wink.

He sends you to the door with a spank and heads into his room. You scurry to let everyone in as another round of banging starts.

“Hey guys! Long time no see.” 

They don’t look the least bit shocked to see you greeting them at the door. Pope must have filled them in about the events of last night on the way over. They all greet you with a tender kiss on the cheek and lug their various bags inside the house. You tell them that Frankie is just finishing changing and that he’ll be out shortly. 

“How’d you sleep last night, hermosa?” Pope sets four cases of beer on the kitchen table. The very sight of it causes heat to rise in your belly again.

“Oh umm good? I slept good!”

“Yeah I guess that would explain why your hair looks like it was caught up in a tornado and you have a crazed look in your eye.” Benny snickers. 

“Consequences of last night's actions at the bar.” You shrug leaning back on the sofa.

“There he is!” Will walks up to Frankie as he enters the room and pulls him in for a hug. 

When they break apart his eyes immediately fall on you which causes the rest of the men to follow suit. Suddenly, you’re very aware of how little clothing you have on. 

“Why don’t I put on some pants?” Your cheeks are burning under all the attention and with the knowledge of what almost happened.

“You don’t have too.” Benny offers casually as he lays takeout boxes down on the table. “It’s good practice for when you’re in the ring.” 

“Now I’m definitely going to put on pants.”

You hush the guys as they hoop and holler at you while you head to Frankie’s room in search of yesterday's jeans. If you didn’t know they meant it with love, those would have been the last sounds they uttered.

“She looks mighty relaxed here, Catfish.” Frankie is shocked that Will is the first one to address the elephant in the room. Usually he stays out of silly things like this, but you must be an exception. “Well, except for when Benny decided to poke the hornet's nest with that comment about her hair.” 

“Her hair? What about it?” He looks behind him where you disappeared. “And keep your voices down.”

“Be serious, man.” Pope cracks open a beer. “She looked so frustrated when we walked in. Like she’s a string that’s wound too tight and is this close to snapping.” He emphasizes his point by snapping his own fingers.

“I didn’t think she looked upset.” Benny sounds so confused.

“Not frustrated as in upset, you fuckin’ dolt.” Will looks at his brother with genuine annoyance.

Much to Frankie’s horror he watches in silence as understanding washes over Benny’s face when all the pieces click together in his head.

“Catfish, I’ve never known you to be a man that leaves a woman unsatisfied.” Benny remarks.

“Well that wouldn’t have happened if y’all had come just a little fucking later.” 

“That’s probably my fault.” Pope looks at him sheepishly. “I was anxious to see what unfolded after you dropped me off.” 

Frankie can’t help but chuckle at his friend's excitement. “Nothing ‘unfolded’ after I took you home, hand to God. She was dead to the world when I brought her inside and tucked her in. She didn’t even wake up until 30 minutes before y’all arrived.” 

“Now swear something wasn’t happening while she was awake.” Pope smiles knowing damn well he has Frankie cornered.

“I uhh-”

“Okay I’m presentable looking now.” You walk into the room and immediately notice Will, Santi, and Benny fighting back laughter while Frankie flounders in front of them. “What the fuck have y’all done now?” 

“Just some good ol’ fashion teasin’, hon.” Will waves you over. “You’re going to stay and watch the game with us, right?” 

“Oh, I don’t want to intrude.” You start.

“You’re not!” Frankie is quick to say.

“Yeah! We want you to hang with us!” Benny voices enthusiastically.

“All these beers aren’t going to drink themselves.” Pope waves his hand dramatically over the booze. “Plus, your car is still at the gym. It looks like you’re stuck with us.” 

“You got me there. I guess it’s only fair that I listen to y’all talk about basketball since y’all listened to me talk about the stars.” 

“Atta girl!” Will pulls you into a side hug while the rest of the boys cheer, Frankie included. 

***

You watch happily on the couch as the men around you take turns yelling at the television and then at each other. Thankfully, you knew how basketball worked so you were more than capable of keeping up with what was going on. You and Frankie sit right next to each other on the couch the entire time. Throughout the game they would all jump up and cheer when their team made a basket, but the second you sat with your legs crossed and had your knee touching Frankie, he happily realized he could better encourage the players from a sitting position. After the game ends and all the food is eaten, you get questioned about how you usually spend your Sundays off.

“It used to be similar to this. When I was living with Robbie back home,” You laugh when you notice the raised eyebrows from Will, Frankie, Pope.

“Robbie is a girl. Calm down y’all.” Benny explains.

“Anyway, when I was living with Robbie back home, we would pile into one of our beds with wine and snacks to watch shitty reality TV. We definitely had our fair share of times yelling choice words at the screen and contestants.” 

You’re met with immediate disbelief that reality TV could invoke those kinds of emotions. Instead of verbally pleading your case, you take the remove from Frankie and use it to open up Hulu. You find your favorite show and your favorite season and hit play. 

“After a single episode y’all will be eating your words.” 

When it ends Will is too angry to speak, Frankie is asking you ‘why that dude with the buzzed hair choose the girl in the yellow bikini over the girl in the pink bikini?”, Benny is fully convinced he would dominate at the show, and Pope is begging to watch the next episode. Completely surprised they all loved it, you play the next episode and snuggle deeper into the cushions. You rest your arm on the back of the couch and play with the ends of Frankie’s curls. Electricity shoots through you each time you feel his body tremble under your soft touch. You all only realize how late it's gotten by the time the season is halfway over. 

“Shit, I gotta be up early tomorrow to talk to some vets at the VA.” Will says as he stands. 

Pope and Benny follow his lead and stretch as they do it. You pat on Frankie’s leg and get up as well. Picking up the trash that has collected on the coffee table, you take it to the kitchen to dispose of it. It doesn’t take Will long to expertly gather up both his things and the men he brought with him. You and Frankie walk them out and send them off with sweet goodbyes and promises of doing this again soon. 

“See you at work tomorrow!” Benny calls back to you from the driveway.

As soon as you close the door, you can feel the energy shift in the room. 

“I thought they would never leave.” His voice is gravelly. 

When you look up at Frankie, he’s already staring down at you with the same look he had in his eyes earlier this afternoon. 

“I could barely hold it together with you teasing me like that. Did you enjoy it? Feeling me suffer under your fingers?”

He’s already got his hands on your hips and is pulling you flush against his body. You let out a low whimper as his mouth finds its home on yours. Your smile against him is answer enough to his question and he nips at your bottom lip in response. 

“Now it’s my turn to make you suffer. To drag it out until you’re begging me to stop.” 

He lifts you off the ground and you find yourself in an all too familiar position with your legs around his waist. You can feel him start to walk somewhere, but you can’t be bothered to look as you suck sweet red marks under his jaw line. Hearing him moan loudly only adds fuel to your fire that was never properly put out earlier. Each time he takes a step, the buckle of his belt rubs against your throbbing clit. You wriggle your body against his as best you can to generate as much friction as possible. When the light behind your eyelids fades, you know exactly where he has taken you. You feel him come to a stop and detach your lips from his neck and admire your work. Those rosy marks will definitely be there in the morning. 

“Hi.” You whisper as you turn your attention to his face. 

“Hi.” He says in the same hushed tone. “I’m going to give you an out. I should have done this this afternoon, but I-I got so caught up in you that I couldn’t think properly. If you don’t want to do this, tell me right now and we can pretend like it never happened. No hard feelings. I just don’t want you to do something you regret tomorrow.”

“Frankie,” You reach up for his hat and throw it to the floor so you can run your hands through his hair. His eyes flutter as you touch him ever so tenderly. “I don’t want an out. I want you.” 

His eyes water ever so slightly at your words. Like it was the first time he had ever been truly craved by another person in his life. It makes your heart crack at the thought. You lean in and capture his lips. They are so pliant against yours. It feels like they were made for you and you alone.

“Do you want me?”

“More than anything.”

“Then show me.”

He tosses you down on the bed and the plush comforter cradles your body. In an instant each of you are ripping off shirts and haphazardly unbuttoning pants. You look up at him, only in your underwear, and take all of him in. His strong arms, broad shoulders, a stomach that you can’t wait to feel rub against you. The lower your eyes go on his body, the harder he gets under his boxers. You squeal when he wraps his hands around your ankles and pulls you closer to the edge of the bed. He never breaks eye contact as he kneels down in front of you. He starts slowly at first, kissing you through the fabric barrier. Adorning your thighs with his tongue and soft nips from his teeth. Your quiet moans fill his ears as he finally removes your last stitch of clothing. He chokes at the sight of your weeping cunt before him. You spread your legs wider, beckoning him to take a taste. 

Your cries bounce off the bedroom walls as he buries his face in between your thighs. His tongue works in ways that you never thought possible. You ball up the sheets beside you in your fists as he laps at you relentlessly. Breath stolen with each wicked sound that pours out of his throat. His hand removes itself from your thigh and climbs its way up your writhing body. In an effort to remain tethered to the earth you grab on tighter to him than you thought possible. 

“Fuck, Frankie,” You’re drunk off of him. “You feel so good.”

“And you taste even better.” 

He takes your clit in his mouth and your back arches as two thick fingers glide inside you. If this is his idea of suffering, you wouldn’t mind spending eternity in hell. Your legs start to tremble, but he is unwavering. Drinking you up like you were the first sip of water he has had in years.

“Come for me, mi estrella.”

He holds your hand through your climax. The two of you moaning in unison as you drench him. He doesn’t detach his mouth from you until your body has ceased its shaking. Only when you're struggling to catch your breath, splayed out on the bed, does he retrace his path back up your body with his lips. His beard is glistening with your slick as he lowers himself to kiss you. The taste of you is prominent on his tongue when he slips it into your mouth. You wrap your arms around him and pull the rest of his weight on top of you. You can hear him growl in your ear when you start to move your hips underneath him. 

“Take them off.” You mewl. “I want to feel you. All of you.” 

He pushes off the bed frantically and sheds the last of his clothing. God, he was much bigger than you originally thought. You move your body upwards on the bed so you can lay on a pillow. You watch, mouth watering, as he starts to crawl his way back towards you. He licks his palm and uses it to stoke himself. The profane performance in front of you causes your mind to go blank. He lowers himself in between your legs again and you can feel his tip at your entrance. You can only mutter incomprehensible words as he sinks himself deep inside you. You wrap your arms back around him to keep yourself steady as you feel your walls stretch around his length.

“You’re so fucking tight around me, cariño.” His face is inches from yours. “I’ve got to move, okay?” 

You answer him by bringing your lips up to kiss him. Your whimpers are muffled by his mouth as he sets his pace. Each stroke is more detrimental than the previous one. Your nails bitting into his back only serves to motivate him as he continues. 

“You’re so big. I can feel you everywhere. Frankie.” 

He sits up just enough to allow himself room to rub your clit. His face fluctuates between concentration and bliss. 

“Are you going to come for me again? Come for me all over my cock?” His fingers rub tight circles and you can feel yourself quickly approaching.

You nod in response to him.

“I can’t hear you. Use your words.” He demands.

“Yes,” you pant. “I’m going to come for you. Only for you.” 

Frankie is trying to keep himself from finishing before you do. He wants to make sure you at least finish twice before he even considers it. He brings the hand he was using on you up to his mouth and spits on it before connecting it to you again. The sounds that are coming from you are making it increasingly difficult to stay focused on his task. He looks down at you while he continues to pound into you and work at your clit. Your body gleams with sweat, your chest is heaving, your lips are swollen from him kissing them, and your eyes…your eyes are on him. He falters for a split second under your gaze. No other woman has ever made him nervous in bed the way you have. Never has he worried that he was doing too little or too much. But with you, he wanted everything to be perfect.

Frankie adjusts your hips so he can hit that sweet spot. He knows he found it when your eyes go wide and your jaw goes slack. He doesn’t change a thing about what he is doing. 

“I’m gonna come,” You sob.

You clench down tightly around him as you’re thrust into your second orgasm of the night. It only takes three or four more pumps until he too is consumed by his own pleasure. You feel him spurt hot ropes inside you and sink deeper into the bed. When he’s done, you feel a slight sting as he pulls out. He crawls beside you in the bed and ghosts his lips over yours.

“I’m going to get a towel to clean you up, alright? Are you going to be good here by yourself for a sec?”

“I don’t think I could move even if I wanted to.”

He smiles down at you and kisses you quickly before disappearing into the bathroom. You rest your eyes while the faucet runs faintly in the background. He’s quiet when pads into the bedroom, but you feel the bed creak beside you under his weight. The towel is damp and warm against you. You sigh contentedly as he takes his time in cleaning you up as if he is sad to see the evidence of him being washed clean from your skin. When he finishes, he sets the towel down on a nightstand and pulls the covers over both of you. His arms pull your tired body against his and envelop you in his warmth. 

“That was worth the wait.” You laugh.

“I would definitely say so, but hopefully we won’t have to wait so long for the next time.”

“No, I don’t think we will.”

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

{tag list: @cutesyscreenname @rsquared31 @smol-beb @bitchwitch1981 @avastrasposts @hoeslingz @saltybutteredtoast @javicstories @c-justhere @pimosworld @modernperplexity @beboldbebravethings @mxtokko @moonliqhtszn @tanzthompson @megcads @myloveistoolittle @casa-boiardi @jitterbugs927 @partyofone3413 @pedrit0-pascalit0 @golden-library @pati-et-vivere @pedro-pedrito-pascalito @mashomasho @lilmizmoz @angstylittlepascal @sofiparallel @selflcontrol @adriennemichelle98 }

[ineffable-ezra]

Reorganised my bookshelf. The Gaimans are now next to the Clementine Ford books (and other books about female empowerment)

[oonajaeadira]

Hi Adira!

I come to you today with a selection of questions from the Colbert Questionert:

Apples or oranges?

Have you ever asked someone for their autograph?

What’s your favorite action movie?

KAT!

SUCH QUESTION.

When it comes to apples or oranges, it depends. I hate peeling oranges, so if they're not cut up, I'm lazy and going for the apples. I love the taste of a fresh orange very much and will generally gravitate to orange slices. But, the real kicker is if we come down to orange slices and a damn fine Honey Crisp. I will knock you down for a Honey Crisp. So really, the order is

Honey Crisp apple

Orange slices

Some strains of apple if orange not peeled

Orange.

Shitty apples.

And then, if we're including clementines as an orange, then it's all clementines all the time.

.

I have asked MANY people for their autograph. I used to hang out with some alt rock indie girls and went to many concerts and you weren't really a fan if you didn't hang out at the stage door and talk to the band. I have many stories.

And, of course, I have a whole section of my bookshelf that's just full of signed books. Lev Grossman (The Magicians), Audrey Neffenegger (Time Traveler's Wife), Erin Morgenstern (Night Circus--I had a very meaningful exchange with her actually), "Lemony Snicket" (that was actually a fun time), Laura Tempest Zakroff and I had a love connection over my gushing over her sigil book, and I think I have at least three books signed by Caitlen Doughty of "Ask a Mortician" and Order of the Good Death fame because she's fkn amazing.

A few of my tarot decks are signed too. Mostly because I reached out by email and asked for it personally before they were sent out.

But my favorite was asking Harvey Pekar for his autograph. For those who don't know, Harvey was a comic book writer of American Spendor. (Paul Giamatti played him in the movie of the same name.) He's also famous for being a grumptastic crumudgeon. He came to the Minneapolis book fair to speak about his career and I took my then-boyfriend Tony to go see his presentation as a surprise birfday gift. Well, Tony bought about five of Harvey's books and wanted to get them signed so we waited in a long line. When we finally got up there, Havey got more and more exasperated with every book Tony pulled out of the bag. At the end he just grumbled, "Jeez. Got any more?" And Tony smiled and shook his head, happy to be getting the grumpy treatment that Harvey was known to give. Then Harvey turns to me and says, "What about you?" And since I was impulsive and he was asking, I literally hoisted my leg up on the table and said, "You wanna sign my PANTS???" And you know what? He did. He rolled his eyes and tried not to smile, but that man took a sharpie to my leg and put his name on my jeans. Those were my Pekar Pants and every time I washed them I went over the sharpie again. I wore those pants until they split in the ass. I should have kept the signature part, but I didn't (it was really faded), and that's okay. The memory's pretty good.

RIP, Harvey. <3

.

My favorite action movie is the Guy Ritchie/RDJ version of Sherlock Holmes. I will still put that sucker on repeat when I'm sick and just need something playing when I'm coming in and out of sleep. I love love love anything dealing with Sherlock Holmes and RDJ is so pretty and Mark Strong is terrifying and the soundtrack is amazing and the cinematography is fkn bomb and the overall design is fantastic...

The sequel was fine. Do I need a third one? No. Will I devour it anyway? Fk yes.

[inkyquince]

Christmas Morning with Gabriel Sinclair feat. Clementine

content warning. slow, fluffy sex, one christmas present of three for @angrelysimpping

“If we stay very still,” Gabriel whispered, voice low and husky with sleep. “Maybe she’ll think we’re asleep.” 

“I don’t think that works on kitties.” You mumbled back, the watery light of dawn barely breaking through the sheets that you two had pulled over your heads. “It doesn't even work on kids.” 

Gabriel sighed, but it was good natured and soft. 

“Hopefully she just remains polite and waits patiently for her candle lighting.” 

His arm was warm and heavy over your waist, chest rumbling against your back as you two enjoyed the morning bliss. No rush to get up to start the day, not like you were used to. Well, unless Clementine raised up her army of Peels to join in on her demands for the candles to be lit. You had yet to hear her padded feet trotting to and fro in the kitchen, so it was still safe to relax on Christmas morning. His warm kisses against the back of your neck almost lulled you back to sleep, your one weakness… And warm blankets. And soft pillows. Well, the entire bedroom has become your weakness. Little bookshelf for the books too dear to the two of you to be near the cats safely. Your two childhood plushies, snuggled together on a shelf. Even the half finished paint job that you and Gabriel kept swearing to do at the weekends and then were too busy cuddling and lazing about to do it. 

It was a perfect moment to doze back off, enjoy the quiet before you were forced to answer calls from the family and cooking and relaxing with a drink and watching movies and petting cats. Oh, what a hard life… Speaking of hard…

“Gabe?” Your tone was playful, letting his nerves know that you weren’t shaming the fact his morning wood was gently digging into your thigh. 

“...Y-Yes, babe?” 

You wiggled your hips a bit, feeling his entire body stiffening up behind you as you pressed his clothed cock in between your thighs properly.

“Wanna open your present early?” 

Gabriel had gotten better with your teasing over the years but the hitched little inhale that he made let you know that he was never going to not be weak to your words. Doesn’t say anything but shifts a bit behind you, fiddling with his boxers to tuck them under his chubby balls. 

“You sure?” He murmured, his bare cockhead nudging at your thighs again, precum smearing a bit as he shifted. 

“Always.” You turned your head to press a soft kiss to his lips, and he relaxed immediately. 

Careful, always so careful with you, he sunk two fingers into you, cum still leaking out of your hole from the previous night, riding him well into the early hours before the two of you fell asleep, wrapped around each other. You sighed with pleasure, letting his nimble fingers reach deeper into you, pleasure slowly building in the pit of your stomach. Thumb stroking along your clit, you arched your back against him, feeling his hot cock rut in between your thighs. Too impatient from your sounds of pleasure, his cock was already beginning to leak thickly between you two, soft squishing noises of him fingering your cunt growing louder and louder. 

Everything was just a bit hazy, from the way his tongue shyly caressed the tip of yours, the way he was humping the back of your thigh with his cock, with his fingers snug inside of you, teasing pleasure from between your thighs. 

“Babe, please.” You whined against his lips and he shakily exhaled at the sound. 

With a bit of adjustment, his arm hooked underneath your knee, his cockhead was finally nudging against your hole, both of you already feeling sweaty underneath the covers. With a careful shift of his hips, Gabriel gently pressed his entire length into you, your own slick running down, over his balls. 

“G-God…” He whispered, eyes fluttering shut for a moment as you continued to press kisses to his lax lips. 

His thrusts were slow and careful and intimate. His fingers found your nipple, still shy about being allowed to grope you. You shut your eyes and tilted your head back properly, letting his mouth suck bruises into your neck, hips gently rocking against your ass. 

“I love you.” He whispered breathlessly. “I love you so much.” 

You struggled to even reply to him, gasping out in pleasure as the knot of pleasure in your stomach kept tightening. Gabriel’s orgasm came first, his hips stuttering as he pressed into you as deep as he could, cum dribbling out from between you, which tipped you over the edge, toes curling. He gave a cute little gasp as you tightened around his sensitive, leaking cock. 

A peaceful silence settled between the two of you, as he held you to him gently, his sweaty cheek against your shoulder. You two slowly turned to look at each other properly, soft, warm puffs of breath being the only sound in the room as you leaned in to kiss him properly again, when it was broken by the sounds of soft footsteps. An inquisitive meow sounded before the sound of a certain lady’s paws on the bedroom door, officially asking for her candles to be lit. Soon there were more mews joining in, softer paps against the wood sounding.

“Up and at ‘em.” You smiled at him and Gabriel sighed with a small smile.

[arabellafairy777]

Things i did this summer

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Sleepover with my friend

Reading books: Beautiful Malice, Twilight all the graphic novels, the sad ghost club, untouchable, Church n Preach, The unbecoming of Mara Dyer

Talked w my counselor

Pulled a tooth

Visited my holiday house

Visted new libraries

Went for walks

Took blurry pictures

Grilled at the beach w my friend

Got into art n drama at the university i applied for

Sold books

Decorated my room

Went on biking trips w my dad

Stood by the ocean

Danced in the rain

Watered my plants

Cleaned my apartment

Went shopping

Bought angel wings

Went on a Japanese festival

Was at a b-day party

Had night and day roadtrips

Printed out more prints for my room

Was at my cottage

Listened to music

Sat out on my porch, reading

Got a new job

Went to the cinema w my friend

Got a nose piercing

Got my first tattoo

Had a sleepover w my sister

Manifested: rain, apperance changes, getting into desired uni, money, new job, parents in love

Celebrated my parents b-day

Ate at a Chinese restaurant

Hung out w friends

Had an angel photoshoot

Got god complex, I blame Church by Stylo Fantome

Watched the sunset w my friend

Went grocery shopping

Wore pretty dresses

Documented my makeup styles step by step

Made playlists

Watch music videos of movies

Played board games w my friend

Rewatched Skins

Made an angel video

Read a manga: Isshou Sukitte Yutta Jan

Organized my bookshelf

Visited my old schools

Recieved new books

Took pictures of the moon

Was out in the woods

Wrote in my notebook

Make bookmarks n print them out

Grow plants

Worked out

Played cats and soup

Went on a museum

Made a new friend

Went through boxes of old things

Watched: The sisterhood of the traveling pants 1st n 2nd, Twilight, Speak, Young & beautiful, Maze runner triology, The handmaiden, Taken, Trust, Christiane F, Scream VI, Pretty Young thing, Avatar the last airbender, Sharing the secret, La belle personne, Baby, Nana, Clementine, All summers end, Unbelievable & Birds of paradise

[alindseypa]

💐 💍 A Bride for Lucas 💍 💐

The Proxy Brides book 80

Clementine longed for a family of her own all her young life, but from living in the streets to being on the orphan train she had learned not to dream for too much. As a servant for a wealthy lady she kept to herself, did her work, and longed to find her brothers that had been torn away from her five years earlier. One afternoon, she was informed without warning that she would be leaving to marry a man she did not know and, once again, she was that terrified little girl from the streets, except this time the orphan train was not taking her away to someplace safer. Or was it?

Lucas dropped out of everyday life from a broken heart, but his mother would not allow it. She ordered him to step back into his role as the heir of his grandfather's beloved ranch or she would take it all away. He ignored her demand; he did not believe she would actually enforce anything. However, when he pushed her too far she was forced to deliver the final ultimatum. He was to marry the proxy bride she had acquired for him and he would wed that day.

https://a.co/d/acem2F0

#FarrahLee #Romance #CleanRomance #HistoricalRomance #MustRead #Read #bookshelf #TBR #KU #Kindle #kindleunlimited #FarrahLeeBooks #Bookworm #ReadThis

[omophagias]

ok. positive things time.

i finished reading the first volume of anthony yu’s translation of journey to the west today and it was really good

i had a nice conversation with the lady who works at the used bookstore

i got several books at the used bookstore that i’d been looking for for a while

very soon i will get to do the fun thing where i put peel and stick wallpaper on the backing of a bookshelf before i put it together, and then put it together

very soon i will get to stain most of and paint the rest of a shelving set and then put that together

very soon i will get to plan a closet layout

very soon i will get to put up pictures with my brother

it was less hot today than i had thought it might be

i have some clementine sodas in my fridge and i can go drink one and play zelda for a while tonight and then maybe read my book about miniatures again

[reverencedesk]

Hilary Pecis, Clementine’s Bookshelf, 2021.

[cardigansandtea]

card games ( i’ll bet on your crush )

They’re all in the living room of James and Sirius’s apartment, and Lily is cross-legged on the floor in front of the makeshift coffee table which, really, is just a bookshelf set down on its front. James is sat across from her, fishing a piece of boozy clementine out of his sangria glass. 

There are four incomplete decks of cards splayed out and a bottle of open gin in the middle. Someone tried to build a castle out of the red deck at one point, there are a few bits still propped up. It’s supposed to be a stupid drinking game Pete came up with four years ago but none of them can quite remember how to play, so Marlene is shouting over the phone to Frank, who has an eerily good memory, and Remus is googling confusing drinking games with too many cards to see if there’s a chance that Pete didn’t invent it, and Lily is being entirely useless because she’s had one glass too many of sangria and she can’t stop staring at the bit of hair flopping over James’s forehead.

She needs to do something with her hands because her fingers are itching to push back that curl, so she scoops up a handful of cards that’s reasonably the same size as a normal deck and fans it out so that the card faces are towards her.

“Oi, James,” she says, and he looks up at her. “Pick a card.”

“You’re shit at magic tricks,” he says, grinning easy, and picks a card anyway.

Lily hadn’t thought past this step, but she can literally see which card he’s picking because she’s an idiot and didn’t hold the deck right, it’s a three of diamonds, and he doesn’t call her on it, so she makes a whole show of shuffling and reshuffling the deck and having him put his card back in while she closes her eyes.

“If I get this right you’ve gotta bring me another drink,” she says and shuffles the cards, nearly losing them to her lap.

James pulls closer to the bookshelf-table, his elbow knocks down the remnants of the castle, and Lily loves how he listens with his whole body, shoulders leaning forward, head nodding – “…didn’t know drinks were part of the deal,” he’s saying, and how does she feel this mix of unsteady and electric when his attention is focused on her, it’s got to be the alcohol, that’s all –

“Marlene’ll back me,” she says faintly, and spreads out the cards in front of her. It’s right in the center – no, that’s a three of hearts, not of diamonds, actually the three of diamonds isn’t there at all – and she looks up and scowls at James.

“Like I said –” and he produces his card from under the table, “shit at magic tricks.”

His mouth is closed like he’s biting the inside of his cheek in the way that means he’s trying not to break out into a full laugh, and Lily doesn’t know when she started categorizing this shit. Sirius is calling his name, something about Frank telling Marlene they need one deck of cards and four bottles of gin, not the other way around, and James hasn’t looked away from her once. There’s something exhilarating about keeping his attention, but then Peter joins them on the floor and the spell breaks and, shit, she needs to be drinking to deal with this.

James is standing up, hand outstretched, and Lily is confused until, like he’s read her mind, he says, “I owe you a drink, remember?”

“More sangria, please,” she says, handing him her glass. “Extra clementine pieces.”

“Coming right up.”

He’s walking backwards to the kitchen, not breaking eye contact with her, and Lily can’t handle this right now. “Pete, hey,” she says, and fans out the deck in the same way as before so that she can see the cards. “Pick a card.”

[chaososha]

First part of my story,

STRANGER THINGS HAVE HAPPENED

(Name a work in progress, drop ideas in the notes please as I want to hear your thoughts on this story)

(From words 1-1,051)

Author's Note

I am genuinely sorry if you do not find this entertaining. I am writing this with intentions of showing this to people who know me in real life, so if it doesn't seem like something I'd write, good.

Sol wasn't a normal girl. She never was and never would be. She never could be, because she was Sol Mavol, sole heir to her kingdom's throne. There were so many things deemed wrong with her, that many found it laughable that she would rule her kingdom alone. So, her parents decided that she wouldn't rule alone, and when she reached 16, her parents sent the word. Their daughter needed a suitor. Sol never disagreed, until one strange day, the day before her 19th birthday.

Sol stared out her window into the night sky. It was midnight of April 10th. "This is it." She thought. "Only one day left, Clementine. Then I'll be 19.. and married." She said to her particularly disinterested cat. Sol sighed as she watched Clementine roll over and bat at her own tail. After Sol watched the siamese for a bit longer, she figured she might as well write in her diary. She went to the left middle section of her bookshelf and grabbed the eighth book there. The seven before it were filled, and the eighth was about to be aswell. Sol opened the diary to her latest entry, 5 days before, and read it back over.

"Dear Diary, my 19th birthday is only a week away now, and I'm not excited in the slightest. I'll probably be wed to a man 10 years older than me. In a week, I'll sign away my freedom. But what if I don't have to?"

Sol stopped reading. She had almost forgotten about her idea. What if she didn't have to stay here? What if she wasn't here in the morning? Sure she'd love to rule the kingdom, but why did she have to be married? Sol thought about the answers her parents gave her. "You can't protect the kingdom alone." Sol threw her diary at the wall. "Lord! What am I even protecting against!?" She yelled. Quieting down, she made her decision.

The next morning when Sol's maid arrived at her room to help Sol get dressed, she found a note, ripped out of a diary. "To whomever may read this note, I have decided I will not, in fact, be getting married. And mother, I will not be 'protecting this kingdom' until I know what I'm protecting against." Mae dropped the note. "Oh no." She said under her breath. Running towards Sol's private bathroom, the maid slammed the door open. A knife was haphazardly thrown on the floor. The floor which had light auburn hair clippings scattered about.

7 miles away, in the outer middle of the kingdom, Sol was panicking in a dead-end alleyway. "Why did I do that I'm an idiot! Mother will be so mad.." She whispered as she paced back and forth. Her hair was choppy and her bag which held her clothes, diaries, and dagger was set on the side of the alleyway. Sol knew she shouldn't be regretting her decision, but she worried about all the things that could go wrong.

Sol sat down on the cobbled road, pondering her situation. On one hand, she could go home, be punished, and have more secrets kept from her. While on the other hand, she could at least try and find out what she is protecting the kingdom from, or at the very least avoid being married off. Sol stood back up once she calmed down, she grabbed her stuff and made her decision once again. She wasn't going back to the castle.

Back at the castle, things were slowly descending into chaos. Once Sol's maid, Mae, had found the letter and hair clippings, she ran straight for the Queen. "Your Highness you must look at this!" She said when she threw open the dining hall's doors. The King and Queen were furious when Mae first barged in, but upon seeing the note, the rulers dropped everything.

At first, the rulers sent the lowest ranking knights to search the palace area for their daughter. The King and Queen weren't too surprised when they couldn't find her. However, they were quite worried when none of the knights found her. After they sent the maids to look, with no success, the King and Queen decided to look for their daughter themselves.

It was over. The King and Queen had searched everywhere. Behind every door, whether it be public or secret, in every secret passage, and every tiny hiding spot they had checked, but the worried King and Queen had no luck. By this time, it was evening, so the King and Queen retreated to their room. Standing on their balcony, watching the sunset, they looked into the kingdom, as if their child would suddenly appear and come home. "Oh love... what are we going to do?" The Queen asked. "I don't know Aria.. I really don't know." The King worriedly replied.

Sol didn't have much trouble her first day out of the castle. There were a few refugee homes for those who lost their house in the recent fire. Sol figured she could find one and stay in it for the night. At first, she thought about sleeping in one that was virtually empty, so she would have more room. She quickly dropped that idea when she realized that her parents were definitely looking for her, and she'd most likely be spotted in an empty refugee house. So the night of April 10th, she found herself in the corner of one of the smaller refugee houses, which had quite a lot of people in it.

That night, in the corner of the house, Sol couldn't sleep. Neither could a woman who sat next to her. "What are you doing up at this hour Child?" The woman asked her after noticing she was stil awake. "It's almost midnight." Sol said in response. "And what does that have to do with being awake?" The woman questioned as she sat up fully. Sol looked at her, blue eyes staring at the lady. "At midnight I'll be 19... didn't think I'd spend my birthday here." Sol answered honestly. The woman's gaze saddened. "Oh.. Well, promise that when it's midnight, you'll sleep?" She asked. Sol thought about it, "Sure." Was her answer. The woman smiled. "Alright then kid. Happy Birthday." She said, then turned over and went back to sleep.

[ky-yh]

My Bookshelf, hope you like

Feminism / Gender Equality:

Men Explain Things to Me — Rebecca Solnit

The Feminine Mystique — Betty Friedan

Entitled: How Male Privilege Hurts Women — Kate Manne

The Second Sex — Simone de Beauvoir

The Handmaid’s Tale — Margaret Atwood

Gender Trouble — Judith Butler

——————————————————————

Toxic Masculinity:

The Man They Wanted Me to Be — Jared Sexton

Boys Will Be Boys — Clementine Ford

The Will to Change — Bell Hooks

——————————————————————

Communism:

The Communist Manifesto — Karl Marx, Friedrich Engels

One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich — Alexander Solzhenitsyn

New Class: Analysis Of Communist System — Milovan Djilas

Introduction to Marxist Economics — Ernest Mandel

Blackshirts & Reds — Michael Parenti

First as Tragedy, then as Farce — Slavoj Zizek

——————————————————————

Philosophy:

The Philosophy of Aristotle — A. E. Wardman, Signet Classics

Stoicism — Mark P. Smith

Great Dialogues of Plato by Plato — W. H. D. Rouse, Signet Classics

The Problems of Philosophy — Bertrand Russell

Epistemology: A Contemporary Introduction to the Theory of Knowledge — Robert Audi

——————————————————————

Racism:

The New Jim Crow — Michelle Alexander

White Fragility — Robin Diangelo

Race & Racisms — Tanya Golash Boza

The Hollywood Jim Crow — Maryann Erigha

——————————————————————

Decolonization:

Two Old Women — Velma Wallis

Original Local — Heid E. Erdrich

Colonize Me — Benjamín Naka-Hasebe Kingsley

——————————————————————

Classics / Novels:

Pride and Prejudice — Jane Austen

To Kill a Mocking Bird — Harper Lee

Little Women — Louisa May Alcott

Jane Eyre — Charlotte Bronte

Alias Grace — Margaret Atwood

[rottenwoodandwiltedsunflowers]

It felt like transcendence - Kae

I’m supposed to be finishing up work and instead it’s 12:25 am and somehow 2020 keeps getting worse and worse and I can’t focus on anything productive and I’m just sitting here alone while my family sleeps. And I’m thinking about immersive theatre.

For someone who is fairly gregarious on the internet--I’ve written about my sex life and liveblogged my pregnancy for publication, after all--I’m a surprisingly guarded person IRL. I don’t see crying as a sign of weakness in others, but I can’t convince myself of the same. I only really trust one or two people in my life at a time. That’s all I have capacity for. I’m an adoptee. I’m a Capricorn. It’s who I am.

I miss the hotel right now and immersive theatre in general. What’s hard to explain to most people is that it’s not just about the art and the live performance. Maybe it’s about the community, though I ironically see my far-flung fan friends more often now than I did before the pandemic shut down theater. We’re all desperate for immersive work and have been seeing virtual shows together and apart, having Zoom chats and group chats and debriefs about them, sharing reviews and solving clues collectively.

I do miss people and IRL connection, but that’s not the ache I feel most ardently. I accessed something within myself in immersive shows that I can’t replicate anywhere else. Is transcendence too strong of a word? It felt spiritual, but I also don’t know if I know what spirituality means. Immersive was (is?) a solo experience for me, whether I went with someone else or not. I felt alive and present in my body at immersive shows. I’m always thrilled to have a 1-1 or to see a new scene added at Sleep No More. But it’s the much smaller moments and experiences that swoooooosh returned me to my flesh. And I miss that feeling, of being transported. The illusion of being alone in my head, that allowed me to focus on just what was in front of me, just what I wanted and who I was in the moment. Since becoming a parent, I both started seeing more and more immersive shows beyond SNM and had less frequent trips to NYC to see shows at all. The last time I saw SNM was October of 2019, the Halloween trip. I haven’t been back to NYC since. I don’t remember who was on or what I saw or where I wandered. It wasn’t a deeply transformative trip to the McKittrick. I took it for granted and if I could go back today, I would try to take it all in--the scents, the textures, the million tiny details. Corners of the building are already blurring in my memories.

But I do remember some very specific things, teeny moments embedded in my long term memory from 7 years (6 in earnest) of immersive adventuring.

Some scattered memories from the last few years that I can still smell, hear, taste, and remember, from SNM and others:

Being alone in the lofted bedroom alcove at the very top of the brownstone building in which Inside the Wild Heart by Group.BR was performed and standing slightly too close to the wall, when I realized the flowers on the walls were talking. Barely audible audio of Clarice Lispector reading her work, like a whisper, was being played through the flowers pinned to the wall, so quiet and in such a small, lonely corner of the building. Who would hear them? Who would ever happen upon them or stand just close enough to that particular wall? But they called to me and I pressed my ear closer to the wall to hear their whispers.

Outright choke-sobbing during the last scenes of Remembrance by Linked Dance, a time during which I really wished I was alone and was also slightly embarrassed that I’d paid extra for the additional scenes that commenced while I was still gurgling and wiping my tears on my sleeve. My grandmother, who I was very close to, died after living a long time with Alzheimer’s. That show was so lovely and I held it together the entire time and then it all burst out at once and it’s truly the most emotional I’ve ever been in public that wasn’t, like, an actual funeral.

Reading through all the manila folders in the reverend’s outside room at SNM, when that was a thing, and puzzling over the characters in the files. Who was the midwife? The nanny? What about the others? Trying to commit it all to memory. Failing. Crawling through the tunnel and being shocked by the soft texture and brilliant white of the chapel (towel room).

The first time I felt the flutter of movement during my pregnancy with Remi, a slight ticklish wiggling inside me, so slight I barely registered it. Had I been moving about my normal life, I might not have noticed. I was, at that moment, deeply moved and completely still, witnessing the Father do a dance of regrets across a sandy roof in The Grand Paradise by Third Rail Projects. I don’t know if a fetus can register its gestational carrier’s emotions, but I have always felt that Remi was reacting to my heightened emotional state.

A night during which I was the only person with the porter during the boy witch lip sync. A scene I’d seen many times, but after looping this particular porter, I felt deeply empathetic towards him. He never took his eyes off of the boy witch and I never took my eyes off of him and he started to cry and I felt tears coming in the tightness of my throat. As though he could feel the synchronicity between us, without turning his fixed gaze from the boy witch, he reached his outstretched hand towards me across the desk. I’d seen the porter loop many times, so I was surprised, but I knew that it was meant for me and I didn’t hesitate to take it. We held hands, urgently, and those tears started to fall one-by-one down my face and then, when the boy witch was done, the porter shook the spell and looked me directly in the eyes, squeezing my hand before moving back to his unfortunate loop.

Watching an actor climb around a huge bookshelf, finding little pots of white paint behind the books and painting her face with her fingertips, while blue light cast unnatural shadows over the room--a scene you probably saw if you saw Submersive Productions’ first large-scale work in Baltimore, The Mesmeric Revelations of Edgar Allen Poe. What I remember is just watching her, as other audience members came and went, for a very long time, for the entire wordless scene, including when she dismounted from the shelves and folded her arms at odd angles into the top of a wooden piano.

The scene in Then She Fell by Third Rail Projects when Alice sees you through the mirror, the audience member becoming the mirror image of Alice. The actor spoke no words. We made eye contact through the implied mirror and she reached for the clementine on her side and I reached the one on mine and then we peeled it together, wordlessly, the skin giving easily under our fingers, and slipped one slice into our mouth and it was sweet.

And, of course, the very first SNM show and the very first time I saw the banquet scene. I have no idea what loop it was--maybe second? I didn’t comprehend anything about the show that night other than that I was intrigued. The banquet scene, which I so often skipped intentionally in my later shows, so often stayed out in the bar at the end of the night if I was having a good time, was the highlight of that very first show. It felt like the whole room slowed and warped. It stopped my breath. I was zoomed in. I could feel my pulse. The whole ballroom pulsed as the lights and mood shifted. For a moment, I was unstuck in time.

If you’re missing immersive theater right now, please do come to The Lost Halloween. It’s a moment for all of us to get found. A bit. And if you’re able, please give to the fundraiser. Every single dollar is an investment in another person's survival and a meaningful thank you for the ways immersive experiences have challenged us, affirmed us, and brought us joy and healing.

[doubi-ixi]

I tried writing again but changed the story.

I’m trying. I kinda feel... idk. Writing it out feels bland. I feel like writing it down makes it feel set in stone. If you read the whole thing please let me know what you think.

@myhusbandsasemni

____________________________________________________________

“Oh, my darling.” A voice sang. It woke Willow and she lifted her head from her pillow. The room was dark but she could still see the general shapes of everything in the room. “Oh, my darling.” it continued. “Oh, my darling Clementine…” She lifted herself up. She couldn’t see anyone in her room. Soon enough she sat up and continued to peer. Her desk in the corner was the same. Her bookshelf full of everything but a few books. Her bean bag. The closet was closed. The mirror doors only showed her the fear on her face. “You are gone and lost forever, I’m so Sorry…” Her heart leaped at the song. A cold shock ran from her chest to the tips of her limbs.

Giant sharp teeth soon took up the majority of her vision. She saw the white of the attackers eyes, much of it by their expression. She let out a scream as she lifted herself from the pillow again. She covered her mouth and looked around her room in more panic. Her arms stung. She saw her room as it should be just as she did a moment ago. SHe dropped her head back into her pillow. She didn’t want to see it again. Without looking up she grabbed her phone and turned the flashlight programmed in it on. With confidence from the light she pulled her head up, brushing her white hair out of her face. Aware that the drugs to put her to sleep were done she got out of bed. A glance at the clock made it clear that it was too early for a regular human being to be awake. Willow slipped a pair of headphones over her ears and she sat done and worked on her project till the sun shone.

_________________________

“How’d you sleep?” William Washington, Her dad asked. Willow looked over to see his blonde-white hair similar to her own, his was cut short while hers often covered her face. She couldn't make eye contact with his blue eyes hidden behind his glasses. He was eating breakfast. The man was dressed in his police uniform, ready to head to work when the time came.

Her answer was a shake of the head. His attention was then put upon her. She walked over from the stairs to the kitchen table which he sat at. He looked at Willow once he felt the weight of her head on his shoulder. There was a long Silence, William let her be quiet. He turned back to the newspapers in his hand.

“Did you have another one?” he asked once she sat down.

She nodded with a hopeless air. His brows furrowed as she lifted her sleeve. Long and deep claw marks were engraved in her skin. The old ones weren’t healed yet. With a frustrated sigh William got up to grab their first aid kit. Within the Washington First Aid kit was much more than you would find in a regular at home kit. It was more of a medical kit a doctor would carry with him. He returned and dressed his daughter’s new wounds. She sat quietly. A gasp or wince was the only sound she made.

[yellowsugarwords]

Walking Dead Game FanFiction - “Reading Lessons”

Title: Reading Lessons Characters: Clementine, Nick, Luke Summary: Nick realizes Clem barely knows how to read, so he takes it upon himself to teach her. Author's Note: enjoy this tay-birthday fic from me to you!! Requested By: simply_psychopath on Wattpad support me with ko-fi ♡ ---------♥️♥️♥️----------

Nick hated his insomnia, but especially these days.

Knowing that Carver was out there, was looking for them, and was angry was already enough to freak him out, but on top of having a new, strange, possibly-bitten kid in the house? It made it even harder to try to relax.

The child, frankly, felt the safest knowing everyone’s schedule in the house. For at least the time being, they were strangers. She wasn’t sure if she fully trusted them yet. Further than that though, she also had sleep troubles. Knowing that she might not need to be alone during the loneliest hours of the night brought her a flicker of comfort.

As much comfort as she could have with a bitter stranger, of course.

So, that night, when she sneaked out of her room at 4:47am, she wasn’t surprised to see Nick there, in the living room, gaze cast mindlessly out one of the partially-opened windows. He would go from glancing out the blinds, to staring at the dim candle on the coffee tale, and back again. Finally, Clementine’s creeping down the stairs resulted in a squeaking staircase, and Nick turned her way.

“Clementine?” She said nothing at his call, trotting down the rest of the stairwell and eventually pausing beside his chair. He squinted, confused as to why the child was there. “Why are you up?”

“Can’t sleep.” She said plainly, shrugging, as though it wasn’t a big deal that the child was still awake just before sunrise. “Why are you up?”

“Hey, it’s more normal for someone like me to be at this hour than you.”

Clementine glared, saying nothing, merely furrowing her brows so deeply into each other it was as though they were embedded there. In a moment’s time, her gaze fluttered off around the living room, taking in how different everything looked when it wasn’t packed with stressed, tired people.

“Well, what are you standing there for?” Nick asked, shrugged her way, scratching at his beard mindlessly. “Pull up a seat. Crack a book. Relax a little.”

“There isn’t a lot I can do here to relax.”

Nick blinked, taking interest in how seemingly mature Clementine was for her age. Something about her felt so...stoic. Almost stone-cold. Nick shifted in his chair, chewing on her sentence. “What do you mean by that?”

Clem shrugged. “Normally if I can’t sleep, I just sit around.”

Nick raised a brow. “You don’t go do something?”

Clem shook her head, taking a seat against the windowsill.

“Read? Go on a walk? Nothing?” He scoffed. “Then why did you come down here?”

“To talk to you, since now I know that you can’t sleep either.” Clementine stated, furrowing her brows as though insulted. “Besides,” she looked away, “I can’t do anything else.”

Nick scoffed. He figured she wouldn’t have been able to go on a walk, she was an unsupervised child after all but regardless, the statement felt silly. “You can’t go on a walk or read?”

Clementine said nothing, folding her hands in front of her. She said nothing, merely looked ahead, silent and solemn. Immediately, Nick’s lips recoiled.

Right. She had been taken out of school when all of this had started.

She didn’t know how to read.

Suddenly, Nick felt a wave of guilt wash over him. There he was, essentially rubbing it in her face that reading could help her get to sleep, when she was unable to even do it.

God, he was an asshole.

“Hey,” he said lowly, gesturing his hand to a nearby bookshelf. “Go pick one up off there.”

Clementine cowered into herself even more. “Look, I don’t--”

“Trust me.” He said softly, his gaze gentle and tender; not the same bitter and irritated vibe Nick normally gave off, especially when it came to children. “Go find one that looks interesting.”

When Clementine turned around, the old tattered book pressed to her chest, Nick was making his way toward the couch, adjusting his hat and sitting down, gesturing to the open spot beside him. “Come here,” he said gently.

Clementine nervously slipped into the seat beside him, exposing the book she’d chosen. The moment the cover of To Kill A Mockingbird was cast toward him, Nick smiled. A classic. Of course.

Nick carefully cracked open the cover, flipping to find the beginning of the first chapter. “I’ll read, and you can follow the words along with my finger, okay?”

Clementine nodded opposed to saying anything, amazed by how old the book looked and seemed.

Nick cleared his throat, shifting awkwardly, suddenly realizing just how awkward this encounter might become. But, as he began to read, it didn’t feel that way. It felt warm and cozy; actually relaxing. When was the last time he felt genuinely relaxed? Too long ago.

“When he was nearly thirteen, my brother Jem got his arm badly broken at the elbow. When it healed, and Jem's fears of never being able to play football were assuaged, he was seldom self-conscious about his injury…”

And when Luke was the first person up the next morning, spotting the two of them sleeping soundly, curled into one another against the couch, all he could do was smile and let them rest.

“He finally learned that reading was gonna help.” He hushed to himself, his heart warm and full, as he made his way into the kitchen to make coffee for all of them. ---------♥️♥️♥️----------

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

How about 8 and 28? I haven't seen a lot of Clemsim so I'm naturally pretty curious about these two! And I hope you can find some peace soon, lord knows we could all use some! 😵😵😵

“Clemsim babysit a child together. Shenanigans ensue.” 

Read on AO3

Lucy’s giggle is the most annoying thing Aasim has ever heard. 

Nails on chalkboards are mere ambiance noise compared to the high-pitched giggle muffled behind the wooden door. 

Aasim grips the doorknob once more, twisting with all his might while banging against the wood with his free hand. 

“Lucy, I’m not messing around!” He snaps. “Open the door!”

“Nope!” Lucy titters, mimicking his knock from the other side. 

Aasim bounces his forehead off the door, squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to find his inner calm. 

Lucy kicks the door. 

“Damn i- Dang it, Lucy-!”

“You swore! You swore! I’m telling my mom! You swore!”

“No!” Aasim argues. “I said ‘dang’ it!”

“You said a bad word! I heard it!” 

“Oh yeah?” Aasim grits his teeth. “Well, when your mom gets home, you’re going to be in even more trouble for locking yourself in her room!”

“Nu-uh!” Lucy taps back on the door. “Not if I tell her you locked me in here!”

“She won’t believe you!”

“Yes, she will!” 

He’s going to punch a hole in the damn door. 

He’s actually going to step back and kick it down himself. Then, he’s going to tear that ugly baby doll from her chubby hands, rip it to shreds, set it on fire and make her watch it burn-

Aasim steps back from the door, fingers raking through his already tousled hair. He can’t remember the last time he was so frustrated that he could just cry. 

This was supposed to be an easy evening with an easy thirty dollars earned towards his new bookcase. Mr. and Mrs. Hawker were nice people who always helped Aasim and his family when they needed it. He couldn’t imagine having better neighbors.

When they called his mother up asking if he wanted to earn some cash, Aasim jumped on it without a second thought. For months, he’s had his eye on a nice wooden bookshelf in one of the used shops in town. Huge and made of thick, sturdy wood, it would fit perfectly along his wall, taking up more than half of it. 

Aasim could fit all of his books, notebooks, and even his movies on it. Then he wouldn’t have to keep his books stacked along his wall where they could fall and get damaged if anyone walked near them. 

The only problem was the bookcase was expensive.

But, not as expensive as a brand new one. 

So, Aasim took up doing extra jobs around the house to raise his allowance, as well as jumping at every opportunity to earn cash from helping out the Hawkers. 

Thirty dollars would put his twenty away from his goal, and everything was going smoothly. 

Until Lucy asked him to play hide n’ seek. 

Which was fine- Aasim didn’t mind playing a game with the toddler.

Then she locked herself in her parent’s room and now Aasim might not get that money. Of course, if she completely destroys the room, Aasim might never get another job from the Hawkers. 

“Lucy, please-”

“Nope!”

“You-”

The chime of his phone goes off. Aasim yanks the phone from his jacket pocket. 

Clementine’s picture fills the screen- the one he took of her in the library.

Glancing back at the door, he steps back down the hall to answer with, “Hey.”

“Hey yourself,” she says. “Did you get my text?”

“Uh, no, sorry. I’m… occupied.”

“Oh yeah? Well, just so you know, Louis did get the part in the spring musical!”

“Oh shit, really?” Aasim slaps a hand over his mouth, turning back towards the door. Lucy doesn’t say anything, so he should be in the clear. “That’s great!”

“Yeah! We kept telling him he’d do great. Anyway, to celebrate, we’re all meeting at Omar’s tomorrow for breakfast. Mind if I hitch a ride?”

“What time?”

“Around eight.”

Aasim scoffs. 

“Louis’ll be up and ready by then?”

“Probably not,” Clementine laughs. There’s a brief pause when Aasim hears something fall over from within the bedroom, followed by Lucy’s insufferable giggle. 

“So, what has you occupied?” Clementine finally asks. “You sound distracted.”

“I have, uh… a situation.”

“A situation?”

“Babysitting,” Aasim sighs. “Mr. and Mrs. Hawker went to dinner, so they asked me to watch Lucy until they get back, right? Simple enough?”

“Except…?”

“Except the little-” Aasim glances back at the door, hushing his voice, “-brat locked herself in her parents room and I can’t get her to come out.”

“Did you try asking politely?”

“Did I try- Clementine.”

‘What?” Clementine chuckles lightly. “Sometimes you can be very rude-”

“Oh my god.”

“-and as a result, children won’t listen to you. Because you’re rude.” 

“I’ll have you know that I asked super nicely if she’d open the door and she wouldn’t do it!” 

“Well, what do you do when Aamirah won’t listen to you?”

“I never have that problem with Aamirah because she’s a good kid who knows how to listen!”

Another crash emits from the bedroom, muffled by the walls. 

“She is tearing the place apart and if I break down the door, then I’ll have to fix it before they get home!” Aasim says, pulling at his hair. “I don’t know how to fix a door! And even if I do fix it, she’ll just squeal to her parents that I broke the door down! And that I swore! Which I didn’t mean to do! It just came out!”

Clementine goes silent. 

“…Clem?”

“You’re just next door, right?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m on my way!”

“What? No, Clem-”

“See you soon!”

“Clementine!”

She already hung up. 

Aasim stares at his phone, mouth agape. 

No, no, no…! 

Clementine cannot be here! 

The Hawkers made it clear that no one else was to be in the house! Especially his girlfriend!

“Aasim!” 

Lucy pokes her head out from the bedroom, grinning ear to ear as she waves at him.

Aasim stumbles as he turns himself around, dashing towards the room.

He doesn’t make it. 

Lucy’s already locking the door by the time he grabs the knob. 

“This isn’t funny!” 

Not even twenty minutes later, the doorbell rings. At the same time, his phone buzzes with a little “Here!” message from Clementine. 

Rushing down the stairs, he throws the door open, blocking the doorway. 

Clementine stares up at him with wide eyes, taking in his disheveled appearance. She bites back a grin. 

“Clem, not to be rude-” she raises a brow at him “-but you can’t be here. If they find out you were here, I’m dead. Please leave.” 

She rolls her eyes, moving up the steps anyway. 

“I can see why you’re having trouble.”

He doesn’t stop her- she’s not supposed to be here, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t happy to see her. If anything, Clementine’s the one good sight he’s had all evening. 

She gives him a quick kiss on the cheek before ducking past him. 

“She still won’t come out?”

“No,” Aasim sighs, rubbing at his eyes. “I’ve tried asking nicely, I’ve tried bribing her, threatening to call her parents, begging- I’ve tried everything except breaking the door down.”

Clementine hums, reaching for his hand, smiling, “C’mon.”

Hand in hand, he leads her up the stairs and right to the door. 

Aasim knocks, calling out, “Lucy? Your parents will be home soon! Don’t you want to come out and get ready for bed?”

“Nope!” Lucy giggles. “Nope! Nope! Nope!”

Aasim shoots Clementine an exasperated look, which she returns with an amused grin. Giving his hand a final squeeze, she approaches the door. 

However, she doesn’t knock, nor does she say anything. 

Instead, she pulls her backpack off, unzipping the front pocket. Finding what she’s looking for, Clementine kneels down on the floor, and begins fiddling with the doorknob.

“Woah, what are you-”

…Is she-

Clementine smirks up at him. 

She’s lock-picking the damn door. 

How is she lock-picking the god damn door?

A soft clicking is heard. 

Triumphant, Clementine bounces back to her feet. Aasim knows he must look foolish gawking at her the way he is, but it gets worse when she pulls a dress out of her bag. 

Before he knows it, Aasim’s holding her jacket as she slips the dress over her head, smoothing it out of her clothes. It’s a classic Snow White dress, one you’d see around Halloween time. 

He has no words. 

Still smirking, Clementine opens the door. 

“Hey!” Lucy’s high-pitched voice brings an ache to his ears. 

“Oh my!” Clementine says, voice changed so dramatically that Aasim almost bursts out laughing. “There she is! Safe and sound!

Lucy drops from her parents bed, hurrying to the door to stare up at Clementine in wonder. 

“Who are you?”

“I’m Princess Clementine.”

Lucy gasps, gripping her baby doll close to her chest as she looks over Clementine’s dress.

“You’re… a princess?”

“Why, yes I am!” Clementine smiles, brushing the blond curls away from Lucy’s face. “We were so worried that you’d be trapped in there forever!”

“How’d you get the door open?” Lucy demands. “It was locked!”

Clementine leans close, whispering, “Magic!”

Oh god.

Aasim wishes he had his phone pulled out to record this. 

Lucy eats it up, though, staring at Clementine with those big, blue eyes. 

“Thank goodness Prince Aasim told me you were trapped!” 

…What?

“Prince…Aasim?” Lucy turns her gaze to him. 

“Uh…?”

Clementine shoots him a look. 

“Uh, yes!” he clears his throat, deepening his voice. “I, Prince Aasim, sent for Princess Clementine to free you from this… bedroom…trap place.”

Lucy eats it up, marveling at the both of them. 

Clementine peeks into the bedroom with a frown. 

“Oh dear,” she says. “It seems that this place it quite messy?”

Oh shit-

Aasim steps forward, heart dropping at the sight off loose drawers dumped onto he ground, pillows tossed everywhere, and a lamp on the floor. 

Oh shit, oh shit-

“Lucy,” Clementine places her hands delicately on the girls shoulders. “Would you like to be a princess, too?”

Lucy squeals, and Aasim wants to die. 

“Yes! Yes! Yes!”

“Then you must help me and Prince Aasim clean this mess up,” Clementine smiles. “Once we’re finished, I will make you a real princess! How does that sound?”

“Yes! Yes!” 

Lucy jumps up and down, grabbing Clementine’s hands to drag her into the room. 

The clean up is much easier than it looked. The hardest part was putting the drawers back together, but other than that, the bedroom looked tidy within the hour. 

Once finished, Clementine escorted the toddler to her room, tucking her into bed and making her pinky promise to treat Prince Aasim with respect, and to not tell her parents about what happened. If her parents find out, “all magic will leave this world!”

Aasim can only laugh. 

Exhaustion from all the stress and frustration has him plopping down on the living room couch. He owes Clementine big time. 

He’s going to plan a special date for her. He doesn’t know what it’ll consist of yet, but they’ll make a whole day of it. He’ll take her to the fanciest restaurant he can afford, he’ll write her sappy poetry and read it to her in the moonlight, he’ll sit through one of the gory, action-packed thrillers that she likes so much, he’ll-

Clementine comes down the stairs, grinning to herself as she sits beside him and grabs his hand once more. 

After a moment, Aasim looks to her.

They share a brief gaze before he reaches over, hand slipping behind her head as he brings his lips to hers. She grins, kissing him back with just as much enthusiasm. 

When they break apart, Aasim sighs. 

“I have so many questions.”