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acourtofwhatthefuck · 1 year ago

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Practice On Me — Part Three — Azriel x Reader

Summary: It’s not an Illyrian party without at least one person starting a fight. Azriel is a jealous little shit. Y/N wants to put the smile right back on his face.

(I really don’t want to ruin this chapter for u but I finished writing it and all I could hear was Camilla Cabello in my head singing “I’llll be hooome for chwismois” — you’ll see why)

Word count: 6.2k

Warnings: Some fiiiilthy language. 18+, NSFW, smut, minors dni 🌶️

It’s not that you and the others are trying to take advantage of Rhysand’s mother’s absence. But having an empty property at your disposal definitely comes in handy.

Particularly on nights like these, two weeks later, when the cottage is packed full with more people than it can reasonably host. There’s drinking and conversation and faces you don’t even recognise, and someone has brought Elpys Vine, a herb grown by someone’s sketchy great uncle on the continent that’s supposed to make you hallucinate.

Judging by the empty chair that a male opposite you keeps winking at, you think it’s probably having the desired effect.

The spot next to you dips down as Azriel takes a seat at your side. He hands you a drink, and so naturally, his arm drapes around your shoulders. It’s comforting — and also a relief, to know that things are still normal after what happened on this very couch two weeks earlier. Not a slither of awkwardness.

But your eyes have most definitely been snagging on every unfamiliar female around you and wondering if one of them could be the target of Azriel’s affections. If Kaeda is here tonight, he hasn’t said so.

Part of you wants to ask, and part of you…doesn’t. For whatever reason.

“This is definitely already way out of hand.” Az comments, cocking an eyebrow as he takes in the volume of people packed into the small space. “I thought it was supposed to be a small gathering.”

“That’s what Cassian told me, too.” You say, and then curiosity gets the better of you. You try to make it seem casual as you study the various females dotted throughout the room. “Is Kaeda here?”

Azriel’s eyes find yours, and he gives a small shake of his head. “No.”

“You didn’t invite her?”

“I didn’t invite anyone. That was Cassian’s job.”

You heave a very dramatic sigh indeed. Sometimes, Azriel is his own worst enemy.

Not that you’ve minded helping him so far — not at all. But surely there must come a point where he directs all he’s learnt at the intended person.

“I will make my move.” He tells you. “I’m just…not quite there yet. Still working on it.”

Fair enough, you suppose. Before you can say anything else, Cassian is suddenly slumping haphazardly into the space at your other side. One of Azriel’s shadows snakes out and clasps your drink before it can slosh down your front.

“Time for a game.” Cassian calls to the room, and you want to groan. Games with Cassian usually ensure chaos. “Let’s play Knife Point.”

There are enough enthusiastic responses that you know your reluctance will be wildly outnumbered. Knife Point is a game that’s used as a ruse to kiss as many people as you like — something you delighted in at fifteen, when kissing was still new to you, but you don’t feel quite the same excitement five years later. It’s pretty simple: a knife is placed in the centre of the table, and the players gather round. One-by-one, everyone takes their turns spinning the knife, and whoever the point settles on when it stops is who the spinner must kiss.

Basic, really. But Cassian loves kissing people.

You and Azriel share a look — one that says he’s no more excited for this than you are. And then you both crack a grin and settle into your seats, because you’ll always go along with Cassian’s shenanigans, even if you complain about them first.

“It seems only fair that the future high lord starts us off,” Cassian says, and slams a dagger down on the coffee table with unguarded enthusiasm. He grins at Rhys, who’s sat in an adjacent armchair with a curvy redhead on his lap. “Rhysand, darling — would you do the honours?”

Rhys flutters thick, dark lashes and gently removes the female from his thigh. “It would be my pleasure.”

The room watches closely as he spins the knife in a sleek way that has a few gazes heating. It spins fast, and then slows, slows, before landing on a female to his right whose name you don’t know. He angles himself towards her, and the smile he gives her most definitely has her falling head-over-heels in love, and the heated kiss he lands on her mouth most definitely has her falling head-over-heels in lust. She looks genuinely heartbroken when it comes to an end.

But then it’s her turn, and she’s kissing Jonan, an ex-fling of yours, and then Jonan is kissing Cassian, and then Cass is spinning the dagger and it’s pointing at you.

Your friend bellows a comical shriek of delight and jumps up so enthusiastically that this time, Az’s shadows can’t stop your drink from spilling. Cass is utterly oblivious as he turns to you with a wicked grin, holding his arms out.

“Come here, sweetpea.” He uses the nickname he’s called you for as long as you can remember. “Come make all my heated dreams come true.”

You snort, handing Az what remains of your drink and pushing to your feet. You intend to deliver a quick peck to Cassian’s lips, but so typically, he clasps your face with enough force to lift you from the floor, and his mouth lands heavily on yours.

Immediately, a chorus of jeers and laughs ring out around the circle. Cassian’s huge hand cups your jaw, and he kisses you like you’ve seen him kiss countless males and females before. It doesn’t matter that you’re his friend, an old comfort blanket — he gives you the exact same energy he gives them. He doesn’t do things by halves.

And the kiss certainly isn’t bad, if not a little strange. You can think of far worse people to be doing this with right now.

It goes on a little longer than necessary, and when you feel it deepen, feel Cassian’s tongue probing yours, you break away. Make a dramatic show of grimacing and wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Damn.” Jonan snorts. “You didn’t kiss me like that, Cass.”

Cass smirks. “You’re not half as pretty, nor half as arousing.”

They squabble, and the game continues, and you slump back down by Azriel’s side, already tuning out the noise. You turn to retrieve your drink, only to find Az draining the rest of it.

“Hey.” You knock your arm against his. “I was going to finish that.”

He stares forward, not even looking at you as he quietly replies, “I figured you were too busy.”

Your face creases into a frown as you take in the stiff, rigid set of his body. He’s damn near hunched in that corner of the couch, and it can’t be comfortable with how his wings are a little squished, but it seems almost as if…as if he’s trying to put some space between you.

You try not to think too much about it as you return your attention to the game once more. The knife continues spinning and people continue kissing, and only once does the blade point in Azriel’s direction, to which he tersely announces he was never playing to begin with.

It’s that which makes you realise the reason behind his mood going south. He’s only just started exploring the art of kissing with you, only just started becoming comfortable with it. The last thing he’ll want to do is make a whole song and dance about it and kiss a near stranger in front of a group of people.

Combine that with his natural aversion to huge gatherings, and it makes sense, now, why he’s clutching your empty cup so tightly, and the muscle in his jaw keeps moving.

When everyone else is distracted, you place a hand on his arm.

“Why don’t we go for a walk?” You suggest. “Get some fresh air.”

But he barely looks at you. Just keeps staring forward. He shoots a quick, hard look in Cassian’s direction and rips it away just as fast.

“I’m fine here.” He says. “You knock yourself out.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

You know Azriel well enough to know when his social tolerance is at an all-time-low, and being at a party is the worst possible thing for him.

He goes more and more into himself, his brooding, and he seems to emanate an invisible signal that warns people to stay far, far away. Not even the drunken, giggling females approach him. The Shadowsinger is in a dangerous mood, and it won’t take much to set him off.

He doesn’t seem all that interested in talking to you, either, given that all your attempts have been met with quiet, one-worded responses. And so, figuring he’ll come to you when he feels like it, you wander off to get yourself another drink, and you sink into the throes of the party.

At some point, you feel a warm touch on your forearm, and you turn to find Jonan there. He’s a damn nice male — for an Illyrian. A little cocky, maybe, but kind. Not the sexist brute that so many of them turn out to be. You and he had been two eighteen-year-olds, excited about exploring each other’s bodies and sex in general. Realistically, it was never going to go anywhere, but you ended things in good spirits, and you’ve very casually fallen into each other’s beds on a few occasions since.

Judging by the way his dark eyes drink you in, you’re sure he’s hoping that tonight will end in the same manner.

“I haven’t seen you in a while.” You say as you pull back from the hug he gives you.

His eyes seem to glimmer with flirtation. “Perhaps you haven’t been looking hard enough.”

You snort. “Or perhaps you don’t train close enough for us to run into each other all that often.”

That’s definitely it. The Illyrian males are sorted into different training groups based on a whole host of different things. Unsurprisingly, Rhys, Cassian and Azriel are in the most skilled group. Jonan is in a different one.

And it’s Jonan’s group, you know, that has just got back from a harsh training exercise that takes them away for weeks at a time. Which is the most likely cause of you having not seen him in passing.

Azriel’s group will be the next to go on one last training exercise before everyone breaks for the winter solstice. They’ll be setting off any day now, as soon as they’re called forth by their general. A few weeks without your three closest friends is a thought you don’t want to linger on.

“How was the training exercise?” You ask, genuinely interested. There will always be a part of you that wishes that was you, out there, putting your skills to use.

But you’re female. And females stay behind.

“Fucking brutal.” Jonan answers. “The weather is bad this year, so we were out there a week longer than we were supposed to be. My sleep pattern is still fucked.”

“Sounds like you need to relax.”

“Oh, I do.” His eyes trail down your body. “Perhaps you can help me with that.”

You open your mouth, not entirely sure what you mean to reply. All you know is that you’re not jumping at the offer of easy, mindless sex like you have done in the past.

But before you can respond, Jonan is stumbling forward, into you. Thanks to a huge, muscled body knocking into him.

He whips around to face Azriel, spilled drink forgotten in his hand. You didn’t even see Az‘s approach.

“Watch it, Shadowsinger.” Jonan narrows his eyes at him. “You almost knocked Y/N over.”

Azriel stops and eyes Jonan with clear dismissal. A rare, antagonising expression sits on his flawless features. “Are you talking to me?”

“Do you see any other shadowy fucks around here?”

One side of Azriel’s lips twitch up in satisfaction. So rarely does he waste his time looking for a fight, but he’s looking for one now — and has found one.

“What I see,” he says, and steps closer to Jonan, towering over him considerably, “is an irritating little cunt who’s in my way. Move.”

But Jonan doesn’t move. Like a typical Illyrian, he salivates at the prospect of a punch-up. He looks a little pathetic as he tries to square up against Az.

“Now, now, Azriel,” he sneers. “That’s no way to talk about Y/N, is it?”

And the mention of your name in Jonan’s mouth is all it takes for Azriel to launch himself at him. There’s not nearly enough room for this, and as he grabs Jonan by the front of his tunic and slams him against the wall, all sorts of surrounding objects go flying.

At once, everyone is turning to watch the confrontation. And so fucking typically, of all the people in the room, neither Rhysand nor Cassian are anywhere to be found.

Which means you’re dealing with this alone. Because nobody else will care to break this up.

You curse quietly and jump in just as Jonan goes to land a hit on Azriel’s jaw. He falters as you throw yourself between them as best as you can at the angle. It’s not great, but you manage to wedge an arm between them.

“Hey. Enough.” You snap, and it feels like all the times you’ve reprimanded the camp younglings. “Cut this out right now.”

Jonan scowls. And actually says, “He started it.”

It makes you never want to have sex with him again. Never have you been drier between your thighs.

“I don’t give a shit. It stops now.” You stare between them seriously, and then you’re firmly grasping Azriel’s arm. “Az, we’re leaving. Now.”

There’s a moment’s hesitation, like Azriel really, really does not want to give up the fight. But then he’s letting go of Jonan’s shirt, more or less dropping him to the floor.

“Fine by me.” Az fucking smirks at the male. “Enjoy the rest of your night.”

You don’t spare Jonan a single further look as Azriel grabs your hand and pulls you through the thralls of people, all disappointed at a fight not coming to fruition. But their attention is quickly stolen by something else, and you don’t look back as you and Az step out into the cold.

Az begins to walk as though the past minute never even happened. You’re quick to catch up to him and grab hold of his forearm.

“Hey.” Your breath clouds in front of your face in the cold night air. “What was that?”

Azriel shrugs. “It was nothing. He is nothing.”

“You—”

“It’s fucking freezing, Y/N. Can we just go?”

You stare back at him. The urge to pry more, demand an explanation, is a strong one. But it is freezing, and in this frame of mind, you’re not certain he’ll tell you anything, anyway. He’s in a strange mood — probably in anticipation of the upcoming training exercise. Perhaps unwisely, you decide to drop it.

“Go where?” You concede. The biting cold makes the decision to do so much easier.

“Dormitories. You can stay with me tonight.”

Dormitories is a very generous term for the limited accommodation that is offered to each training legion. Most of it sits unused, due to the majority of Illyrians preferring the harsh, toughening dwellings of tents and crumbling old houses in all extreme weathers. But a certain amount of small, draughty rooms are available, and Az tends to make use of his when the cottage begins to feel too crowded, and he needs a break from living on top of Rhys and Cass.

There’s no hammering droves of snow tonight, and you’ve patched up your boots enough to hopefully last you a little longer. A broad expanse of stars glimmers above you, making it a rather pleasant night for a stroll — or it would be, if not for the unavoidable presence of Azriel’s bad mood.

Your attempts at conversation are met with non-committal responses, and by the time you’re kicking through the peeling wooden door to the accommodation, you’re fucking exasperated.

Azriel can be very, very insufferable when he thinks himself into a foul mood.

You could go home, back to your father’s house — you certainly consider it as you follow Az into his cramped dwellings, but…you don’t know. You wouldn’t like to leave him like this. To walk away without seeing him crack a little smile. In nine years of friendship, you’ve never done so before. So you shut and lock the door behind you, and resign yourself to a very silent, very tense night.

You press your back against the door, watching as Azriel perches on the edge of the bed and removes his shoes. Through the walls, you hear the distinct sound of skin slapping against skin, and the building moans of a female close to climax. This miserable building is more often used as a place for a quick fuck than it is to actually sleep in.

But Az doesn’t seem to notice as he shrugs out of his clothing, quickly slipping on a pair of low-slung cotton sleeping trousers, and sprawls out across the mattress, wings fanning around him.

You’re not sure why you don’t move, at first. Or maybe you are.

Your gaze snags on the toned muscles of Azriel’s torso, and the smattering of dark hair that maps a line from beneath his bellybutton to what sits under his trousers. You’ve seen it countless times before, and yet you can’t stop staring.

Particularly when he stretches his arms above his head, and then drags a hand down his stomach. To him, it’s a subconscious act, but to you—

You can’t stop yourself zeroing in on his hand. The very hand that touched you and bathed you in a pleasure so stunning, so splintering, that you hadn’t dared to try and replicate it yourself since. Such inexperienced fingers had coaxed such expert sensations—

“Are you coming to bed?” Azriel’s voice drags you from your thoughts.

“…Right.” You clear your throat. “Yeah.”

“There’s a shirt for you in the armoire.”

You shuck off your clothes, digging out the tunic you often borrow from Az to sleep in. He barely spares you a glance, his eyes glued to the ceiling. You can’t help heaving a sigh as you pad over and slip beneath the blanket. The faelights wink out, and for a while, you both lie there in silence. It’s you who eventually breaks it.

“Are you going to tell me what that fight with Jonan was about?”

Az slings an arm above his head. “You were there. I’d hardly call it a fight.”

“No, I’d call it an overreaction.”

“Jonan’s an arrogant bastard and everyone knows it.”

He brooks no room for argument. And he’s not exactly wrong, either. You know Jonan gets himself into more brawls than the average person. But Az wasn’t exactly justified tonight.

But before you can think of a response, he says, quietly, “Sorry — if I ruined your night.”

You pause. And then roll onto your side, staring at his outline through the darkness. “You didn’t. I didn’t want to go to the party, anyway.”

There’s a tiny, soft snort. “Me neither.” He agrees. “But going along with Cassian’s ideas is the story of our lives.”

“That it is.”

Az says no more, does no more. And you…you hate it. Because it’s not simply that he’s sleepy and dozing off beside you. He’s just as awake as you are. And his mood is still heavy and tense.

You can’t stand it.

It’s perhaps against your better judgement that you inch closer to him, your mind already made up about how you might lift his spirits. It’s dangerous, because your arrangement has simply been about helping him, and he’s always been the instigator, knowing what he needs and when he needs it. Which he most certainly isn’t doing now.

But you would be helping him…in a way. And you can’t lie and say that it hasn’t bothered you, over the past two weeks, that you didn’t get to return the pleasure he gave you.

It would still be a learning experience. That’s what you tell yourself as you press against his side and drape your arm over his stomach.

Az pauses, but this isn’t unusual for the pair of you. You’ve cuddled like this plenty of times over the years — with your other friends, too. And so there’s no hesitation as he slides an arm beneath you and tugs you closer, his wing tucking you in.

You rest your head on his chest, and you murmur, “I don’t want you to go on the training exercise.”

You really, really don’t.

You always miss your friends when they’re sent away, but it seems…heavier, somehow, this time. Like there’s more between you to miss.

That…that is not a good thought to have.

You banish it from your mind rather than dwelling on it.

Az’s hand presses against your back. “I’ll be home in time for Solstice.”

You hear the unspoken promise in that statement; the one Azriel knows you need to hear. Because this isn’t just about simply missing his company.

Solstice is…hard for you, to say the least. Being holed up with your father, him drinking from the crack of dawn until he collapses in a chair by the fire. His unpredictable, volatile moods and tendency to pick at you over every tiny thing. It’s the time of year you rely on your friends the most, and you spend the entire day waiting for your father to pass out so you can sneak away and forget him for a while.

Azriel’s bare skin is so pleasantly warm, lulling you back to the present. You shelve your worries for the time being, press your cheek against his pectoral, and breathe in his frost-and-cedar scent. His wing drapes over you, cocooning the two of you in your own little world.

And there’s no better place than inside that world to ease some of Azriel’s tension. Bring the smile back to his lips.

“…Az?” You whisper, slowly gliding a hand over his stomach.

His body tenses beneath you. There’s a pause before he answers, “Yes?”

“What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing…” He clears his throat. “Nothing much. What are you thinking about?”

The question is an opening for you to stop this right here. You could return a similar, half-assed response, remove your hand from his stomach and go to sleep. Like any sensible, reasonable friend would do.

Or you could be honest.

You could tell Azriel that your close proximity has you thinking all about the magic of his fingers, the sensations he wrought from you. You could admit that it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve thought about it since it happened — not at all. You could tell him that you’re still a little stunned, because besides yourself, nobody has ever made you come that hard.

You could tell him how badly you want — need — to return the favour.

And never one to back down from a situation, however daunting, you do exactly that.

“I’m thinking…” you murmur, and your finger begins to just slightly trace lines over his stomach. Your touch is so light, and yet you feel his body react beneath you. “I’m thinking that there’s more I’d like to teach you about touching.”

A little breath escapes him. “Oh?”

“Mhm.” That finger of yours gets a little bolder, making bigger sweeps over his skin and dancing close to his waistband. “But this time, I want to touch you. You made me feel so good, Azriel. I want to make you feel good as well.”

“You…you don’t have to do that.”

Gods, you know you don’t. You know this situation has never been about him expecting anything from you. Just a friend helping a friend out. No big deal.

But who says you can’t both get something out of it?

“I know I don’t have to.” You answer him. Your hand stops its movements, and you stare up at him, your eyes accustomed enough to the dark to make out certain features. “And I won’t, if you don’t want me to. Do you want me to?”

A tiny, tiny little pause.

And then Azriel rasps, “Yes.”

It’s a guttural, gasping sound, and it’s so delicious that you want to swallow it.

You don’t hesitate in moving your hand up to his face. You angle it towards you. Slant your lips over his.

And you smile. There’s a mulled wine that Azriel far prefers drinking over the piss-poor ale that most males around here favour, and it’s not the first time you’ve tasted it on him. It’s pleasing to explore — the spices and berries and damp heat of his mouth a combination that coaxes you to slide your tongue between his lips.

Az seems pretty well comfortable with his kissing technique, now. He leans into it, not at all tentative, his tongue meeting the strokes of yours. And then he suddenly breaks away.

“I like—this.” He pants heavily, breath fanning your face. “I like doing this.”

The words make something glow inside you, because that is precisely what you want. This isn’t just about teaching him the technicalities of physical touch. It’s about liberating him from the barriers he’s built in his mind, and showing him how much he can enjoy it.

And your friend deserves that.

You plan to really show him.

You slide your hand over his hip and haul him closer, eliminating the tiny little gap that existed between your bodies. An act that makes him suck in a breath.

“If I do anything at all that you don’t like, you need to tell me, Az.” You stare at him. “Okay?”

He nods.

“I need your words. Swear it.”

“Gods, Y/N, I swear it.”

He kisses you this time.

He really does like doing that.

The kiss is hot and hungry, loitering on the precipice of being frenzied. Azriel’s hand slides to the back of your neck, his fingers kneading the skin there. A dim faelight blinks back to life, bathing the two of you in enough warm light to see each other. His tongue pushes past the seam of your lips.

But you don’t give him the chance to stroke at your mouth. There are a million other places you can think of kissing; a million other places you’re just as desperate to get your mouth on.

Your lips glide along Azriel’s jaw with the lightness of a breeze. He goes still, appearing to wait with bated breath to see what you’ll do next, and how it will feel. He’s never been kissed here before.

Nor at his neck. You kiss the skin gently, at first, and smile to yourself at the little breath that hitches in Az’s throat. Something told you he’d be amenable to neck kisses.

Indeed, he is, as you attach your lips to the column of his throat and suck.

It’s a soft ungh, this time, that escapes him. A noise of both surprise and delight. Perhaps he never before considered the sensitivity of the neck, how enjoyable it might be to be kissed there. It’s one of many things you want to be the one to teach him.

You suck and lave at the area until his stomach is caving beneath your hand, and then you’re moving on, dragging your mouth over his collarbone. Down to his pectoral.

His skin is hot but its taste is cold — cold, like his scent. Frost and snow, icy starlight, the whipping winds and thrill of flying. Gods, it’s all delicious, and you close your mouth over his nipple, desperate to taste more.

Azriel starts, his back arching just a little. Your eyes flit up to his as your tongue teases the peaked flesh.

“This okay?” You check, allowing your teeth to graze just a little.

“Yes.” Az breathes. “I never considered that that might feel good for—for a male, too.”

You smile, repeating the action, fastening your lips totally around the nipple and giving a gentle suck. It earns you another quiet sound in response.

But you don’t want quiet. You want to make your friend feel so good that he can’t keep a lid on those sounds. The muscles of his stomach are quivering under your palm, and you decide it’s unfair to make him wait any longer.

So as your tongue circles his nipple, you slip your fingers beneath the waistband of his trousers.

You’re careful, even though you know the sharp intake of breath is a positive one. Nobody’s hands but his own have ever ventured here. You want him to be aware of every touch, every feeling.

Your fingers skate over the dusting of fine, coarse hair. And lower. And then your hand is on his cock.

The mere weight of your touch drags a breathless little noise from Azriel’s throat. And you pause.

Azriel is big, even by Illyrian standards.

From touch alone, you can feel its length, its thickness. You’re not entirely sure you can fit him in your hand, let alone anywhere else.

But gods are you willing to try.

You take your time exploring every detail, starting at the smooth, swollen head — already leaking a droplet of moisture —and circling its rim with your finger. Azriel’s hips jerk, and you smile, removing your mouth from his nipple to kiss further down,

“Still doing okay?” You ask, coasting your lips over his ribs. The pads of your fingers stroke over the head of his cock slowly, casually.

But there is absolutely nothing casual about Az’s voice as he grounds out, “I’m doing great.”

“Want me to keep going—”

“Please.” The word escapes his mouth before you can even finish the sentence. “Please.”

You smile, and you scoot lower down his body, giving yourself the perfect angle to explore the muscles of his abdomen with your mouth, your tongue.

It allows you to feel the exact moment you glide your palm down the length of Azriel’s cock, following the long, jagged vein.

Gods, it feels like it goes on forever.

The skin is velvety, smoothing over every vein, every bump and ridge. You explore it all, as much for your enjoyment as for his. You can’t imagine what it must be like to feel it sliding in and out of you, hitting a spot so deep inside you that you’d have to bite the mattress—

A thought you should not be having. It isn’t going that far.

And there’s a twinge of disappointment at that fact. But now isn’t the time for disappointment.

You trace the length of Azriel’s cock all the way down to his balls, and he’s trembling beneath you. You tug at his trousers, whisper, “Can I pull these down?”

It might be silly to ask, given that your hand is already well beneath the fabric. But you want him to have a choice in everything.

So when he gives a firm nod and lifts his hips for you, you tug the cotton trousers down, peeling them easily from his hips.

Azriel’s cock springs up. And it…it might just be the most perfect cock you’ve ever seen.

You damn near moan at the sight of it.

But before the sound can escape you, you smother it by pressing your lips to Azriel’s stomach. You kiss the skin, lap at it, graze your teeth over it. And your hand returns to his hardened length.

Finally — fucking finally — you wrap your hand around him.

Azriel makes a gasping sound at your touch, his hips canting up into your hand. He’s so responsive to your touch that you have to clench your thighs together to ignore your own arousal. This is about him. Entirely about him.

It’s about him as you slowly begin to pump his shaft, peppering kisses down and down until you’re at his hip. It’s about him as you squeeze gently and hear the hitching of his breath.

“So responsive,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to his hip.

“Is that—gods—” He hisses between his teeth as you pump a little faster, “—is that a good thing?”

“Very good, Az. I want to know that you’re enjoying it.”

“I am. Fuck, Y/N, I am.”

“Good.” Another kiss lands on his skin. “You’re doing so good for me.”

The praise drags another noise from the depths of his throat — the loudest he’s made so far. You don’t know whether he’s simply gaining in confidence, or whether he’s losing control. Maybe both. Hopefully both.

And you think you might lose control, too. Watch with rapt fascination as the head of his cock leaks, and it’s swelling, thickening in your hand, and you know he’s not going to last much longer.

You really want to taste him before he falls off the edge.

“Holy gods,” Azriel pants, his teeth biting into his lower lip. “Y/N, I don’t think I’m gonna last.”

“Don’t fight it.” You lick your lips. “Can I put my mouth on you?”

The question makes him fucking groan, and he chokes out an affirmative response, his cock rutting into your hand. You know he’s close, and you want him to finish. Preferably on your tongue.

And when you slide your mouth onto his cock, you know that’s going to happen.

You hollow your cheeks, sucking him into your mouth as much as you can.

Azriel shouts, his head falling back, eyes screwed shut. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

You suck on him, tongue tracing the length of the vein that’s beginning to throb. He doesn’t seem to be aware of the way he slides his hands into your hair, his hips rolling.

“Y/N,” he pants, your name languid and slurred on his tongue, “m’sofuckingclose.”

You pull your mouth off of him long enough to say, “Look at me. Watch me while you come.”

And then you’re sucking him again, your hand wrapped around the base of his length. You pump and lick him and bob your head in time to Az’s hips canting against you, and you think the sounds he’s making may just be the most beautiful ones you’ve ever heard.

And he watches you so closely, his brow furrowed, his lips parted, his chest heaving. Your gaze collides with his, and you’re hollowing your cheeks and giving a particularly harsh suck.

“Oh, gods, Y/N, fuck!”

Azriel spills into your mouth, shot after shot coating your tongue. You take it all, swallowing greedily, savouring the saltiness and the hint of something else that is just Azriel. It seems endless, and so do his groans, his constant string of curses, the jerking of his hips and the trembles wracking through his entire body.

You damn well suck him dry. Not a drop is spared.

As you finally pull him out of your mouth, wipe your lips with the back of your hand and glimpse his shaking, sated form, you know you’re committing the sight to memory. For when this is all over.

He’s…he’s a vision. Head still tipped back. Stomach and chest still heavily rising and falling. Pleasure still pinching his face. His hands are fisted tightly in the bedsheets.

You leave him to come down from his high. He’s still panting a little when his head lolls forward, and his eyes meet yours.

“That was—” His voice cracks a little. “God’s, Y/N, I don’t have words.”

“It’s okay.” You press a gentle kiss to his stomach, tucking his sensitive length back into his trousers. “Words aren’t necessary. You did so well.”

His arms are suddenly around you, tugging you up and against him, your body slanted slightly over his. All the earlier tension from the night is gone, and it’s just you and him, your love and friendship, your unbreakable bond.

Az holds you tightly, burying into your hair. And you think that this was maybe more than just…you returning a favour. You think this might have been a soul-shifting moment for him. Something that released him from the invisible bindings that have held him back for so long.

And it saddens you a little to think that that might be the end of it. That you’ve done all you can do.

But still, you’re honoured to have helped him this far. To have guided him through it.

“Thank you.” He whispers, dropping a kiss onto the top of your head. He’s still trembling, and he tucks himself in tight as if he’s worried he might break. “Just…thank you.”

You don’t quite know what to say. It feels a little…final, and you don’t like that.

So you simply nestle into his side, and you repeat your earlier truth, your voice a whisper. “I don’t want you to go on the training exercise.”

Because you know you’ll miss him more than you ever have before. It’s going to be far harder this time.

What, exactly, that means…you can’t bear to think of it right now.

And there’s no need to as Az holds you tightly, kisses your head again.

“I’ll be there with you on Solstice.” He says. “I promise.”

azriel tags: @hanasakr @positivewitch @ruler-of-hades @brekkershadowsinger @nightscourtt @imperfect0angel @luna-1-3-5 @hyacinthoideshispanica @lucyysthings @lahoete @littlemoonash @blacksstarrynight @azriels-mate123 @ghostly-poetic @frieddesigninspiringquotesslime @a-frog-with-a-laptop @illyriansimp @morrie-rose @passingthroughfireandshadow @illyrian-dreamer @azrielsbabyg @96jnie @mich0731 @mulansaucey @truthtellerfanclub @acourtofbooksandmagic @insightsonmylife @basicbittywitty @curbside-cyanide @acourtofchaosandmess @123345566 @starrynights-frostbites @eos-princess @thesillyyogourt @ona-raising-07-l @acediahamartia @dontfollowmepleaseitsannoying @polli05927 @asdfjklbooks @azriel-luvr @amysangel @humanpersonlasttimeichecked @wildflowernightmere @audie-writes @aaronwarnerswifereal @starxqt @lulufairbank @laurzwrites @livelaughlovenestaarcheron @girlwith-thecinder-blockgarden

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lovelookspretty · 3 months ago

Text

not so bad

college!rafe cameron x reader au

— in which rafe and y/n absolutely despise each other in public but crush in secret. rafe is failing his humanities class & is assigned y/n as his tutor . . . maybe all it took for this relationship to form was just a bit of forced proximity and some time.

warning(s): raging hardcore sex. jk guys ! sex yes. 18+ mdni ! dont read the end if u arent comfortable. also some assault ngl from creepy guy

authors note: erm i needed conflict but the whole light stalker situation feels kind of corny so pls do not pay attention to that. also yes lowkey i got uncreative with the dialogue when y/n was giving rafe head ( that yes i just took it out completely ) SUE ME IM TIRED 😭

the days go by until you’ve reached saturday. you’ve been nothing but excited for what rafe has in store for the two of you. it’s been racking on your mind whether you and rafe are dating or not—is this saturday a friend date? or a date for . . . more?

you try to keep your composure when you’re around rafe or lorenzo. aria and elara are the only ones you’ve expressed your feelings to about the weekend. they both agree it’s a date date but suggest not to overthink it.

you know they’re right but for some reason, the thought of an official date feels so overwhelming.

in the library, you stand in an aisle of books while trying to find one in particular for one of your professors. it’s a recommendation, really, and he suggested yesterday that you bring him a copy from anywhere. you plan on giving it to him before you get ready for the date.

a pair of hands graze the side of your arms that send shivers. you don’t have to look at the person to know that it’s rafe. his scent is all you need.

“hey,” he whispers, appearing by your left side to take a look at the book in your hands. “reading something new?”

you chuckle but shake your head. “i wish. i’d give anything to read this for the first time,” you mutter under your breath as you stare down at the novel. when you look up at him, you add on, “just for my professor.”

you hand it to him because you can tell he wants a look closer. he takes it into his own hands, reading the title aloud, “the time traveler’s wife? what’s it about?”

you glance up at rafe, knowing he might not be up for a long explanation. with a small smile, you keep it brief, “it’s about this guy who time travels and his wife who has to deal with it. it’s really messy, but it’s just about love finding its way back, no matter what.” you shrug lightly, “kinda beautiful actually. one of my favorites.”

rafe raises his eyebrows as he hands the book back to you. “sounds interesting,” he comments. “aria’s still fine with me stealing you for a night right?”

you almost snort laughing. he and aria have this joke where rafe has to ask aria for permission to take you out, like you’re aria’s child. aria gives rafe things like pretend curfews, rules, etc.

“yeah she’s still fine with it,” you tell him. “i think she found her own date for tonight or tomorrow night. i forgot.”

rafe looks surprised. “aria? a date?”

“i know,” you say, and you walk him over to the stairs that leas down to the first floor of the library. “she’s mentioned him here and there for the past week—i don’t know much on the guy. just that he goes here and they met in english.”

rafe connects the dots that aria and the boy met in english, but that they also share an english class. it’s a little slow process but he gets it.

“wait, he’s in our english class?”

“yeah,” you confirm with a laugh. “which still, doesn’t give us much about who it is but he seems nice enough if aria’s going on a date with him.”

when you reach the bottom of the stairs, rafe turns to you, “well i’m gonna go pick enzo up from practice ‘cause he wants to go shopping real quick before he leaves for his lacrosse thing. you’ll be ready by six right?”

“obviously,” you mumble, and rafe chuckles softly, leaning in to press a kiss to your head. he ruffles your hair. “wait, why are you in the library then?”

he shrugs, beginning to walk away. “knew you’d be here.”

his words pierce through your mind. it makes you smile. you look down at your book with a hopeful glint in your eyes before heading to the front desk.

you really had no idea how to dress because rafe refused to tell you where you two were going on a date for days. fortunately before you got ready, you were complaining to rafe that you can’t dress for a place you don’t know about. you managed to get it out of him eventually.

‘ gee okay we’re going to a restaurant. it’s fancy but don’t be nervous. just be pretty ’

a fancy restaurant; so this really is a date date. this could go either really bad or really good depending on the food in there, but thankfully rafe also admitted what kind of restaurant it is.

you’re nervous no matter what rafe tells you to be, given your experience in this kind of environment. you’ve been to some around kildare, but each time just feels different. and this will be your first with rafe. you’re bound to feel tense.

he looks to you once you’re parked in front of the restaurant. “you ready to go?” he asks.

you nod, “ready to eat and drain your wallet.”

he shakes his head with a chuckle, and you’re glad he understands your humor. “you’re stupid,” he says as he gets out of the car, then jogs over to your side to open up your door. “don’t say a thing.”

“you’re such a gentleman,” you comment anyway, and you step out of the car while taking your hand into his. he helps you out before he shuts the door and locks the car, stuffing his keys in his pocket.

he keeps a tight grip on your hand but he squeezes it once. “c’mon,” he murmurs, leading you out of the parking lot.

he leads you into the restaurant where you wait for him to settle all the details about the reservation. you’re led to a table on the second floor. it’s right above the bar on the first floor but it’s right against the railing so you’re able to peek and see who comes in or out, and you especially note that you’re able to see when someone comes up or down the staircase.

you settle in your seats and are given water and their menu to start with, but you and rafe are ready to order your drinks at the very least.

“i’ll give you a few minutes to look over the menu. if you have any questions or need recommendations, feel free to ask,” the woman says with a kind smile before she leaves to come fetch your drinks.

it’s left to you and rafe at the table. you can tell that even he’s a little anxious but he’s putting it aside well.

“i haven’t been to a restaurant in so long,” you try to ease both of yourselves as you look around at all of the people who are just settling in, leaving, or staying for their next meal. “where did you find out about this one?”

“just around the corner from the new café, i’m surprised you didn’t notice,” he says, in which you scrunch your nose at. you honestly have no sense of surroundings that you didn’t catch it before.

“i’m glad you asked me to come,” you tell him after a few moments, and rafe widely grins at you as he nods.

“c’mere,” he whispers as he reaches his hand out on top of the table. you can’t help the smile on your face when you take your hand into his, though your gaze trails up briefly to who walked up the stairs and appeared behind rafe.

“—y/n?”

it takes you a moment but your eyes widen when you realize who’s standing there beside their own date—“aria?” you say back.

rafe furrows his eyebrows in confusion at you, turning around in his seat to see if aria really is there too. he’s dumbfounded to find that you aren’t kidding.

aria can read the expression on your face and her own falls, realizing the mistake she’s made. she’s interrupting you two.

aria is silent as she and her date get led to a table beside you, as per aria’s request so it’s easier to talk to you. when they’re seated, aria holds her purse in her lap and leans toward you.

“i didn’t know you were coming here for your date!” aria whispers, and you can tell she’s in a panic, “i’m so sorry!”

you look to rafe and stare at him with a look that can only tell him that you know this is a bad thing. really? there goes your alone time.

“we can make this a double-date!” her date suggests. aria looks to him, then at rafe with an unapologetic expression. “i’m reggie!”

“reggie—?” you question as you look to aria for help.

“you didn’t tell me your roommate was here, ari,” reggie says to her as he unfolds the napkin and places it on his lap happily.

aria is clearly bothered by the so that as she slowly unfolds her own napkin. “yeah ‘cause i didn’t know, if it wasn’t already obvious enough,” she grits through her teeth. she leans forward to speak to reggie directly, “maybe we go look for another restaurant?”

reggie shakes his head, “but we’ve already made our reservation here and we’re seated! what’s the harm?” he looks to you and rafe. “you guys wouldn’t mind a double, would you now?”

rafe’s gaze is already on you when you face him. you know that this reggie guy is off to a bad start so far, and sitting beside them of all people is going to be difficult. respectfully, you guys are supposed to be having this night together, not with them.

“guess not,” rafe says with a smile, though you can tell he’s upset. the server comes back with your drinks and you sit quietly while she places them in front of you both. “thank you.”

“thanks,” you mutter, then take the glass of water and begin downing it gulp by gulp. rafe eyes you carefully when he’s going for just a sip of his water. even aria, reggie, and the server are watching too.

you set your glass down and press a hand to your stomach, feeling off about this whole thing. you should’ve talked with aria earlier to discuss where each date is going to take place so stuff like this can be avoided.

regardless, you and rafe order and decide to converse with aria and reggie while you’re there anyway. it’s agreeable that it’s strange to be there at the same time on the same day at the same place, but there was a light joke thrown in that suggests they all become friends from then on.

“hey, you’re roommates with lorenzo agosta, right?” reggie asks rafe. the blond boy only gives a silent nod in response. “i’ve been to some of his games, he’s pretty good! his girlfriend is that little uh . . . elena?”

“elara,” rafe says as he looks over the railing to see if their waitress has come to bring their food to them yet. “they’re not really boyfriend and girlfriend.”

“oh,” reggie notes with a nod. “so that was some debate between you two.”

you feel exhausted just hearing him. he yaps so much—does he like the sound of his own voice this bad or something?

but you remember what he’s talking about. right; he’s in your class.

“yeah,” you reply dryly. “all in good fun.”

“never thought i’d see this pairing outside of that class after that,” he says, and he’s referring to you and rafe. “let alone on a date.”

aria gulps down her drink as she raises her hand, “check!”

reggie looks at her with his mouth gaped open, “already—?”

“—yep!”

you eat your food in silence as reggie goes on about school. you and rafe are sharing glances with each other constantly, seeming unable to find a moment together that it’s actually irritating.

aria seems tired of her date too. whether or not she’s into the fact that he’s . . . very social, she must think that the time to be social isn’t for a time like this. you can tell she’s embarrassed as she picks at her food.

at some point, aria actually stands up and clears her throat, announcing, “i need to go find a restroom, i’m not feeling too hot.”

she walks over to the hallway just a few tables down, and she disappears without a word.

rafe wipes his mouth with his napkin and stands up, alerting the two of you, “me too. i’m gonna get some air.”

“in a bathroom?” you ask him.

“in a bathroom,” he confirms, leaving his seat to use the men’s restroom. you watch the path he takes until you can’t see him anymore. guess they really can’t take it.

it’s silence amongst you and reggie when you look back at him. he’s seemed to quiet down, and his energy is depleted after watching them excuse themselves. even his own date.

you collect a piece of your food on your fork and slowly lean forward to bring it into your mouth, then chew, contemplating if going in the restroom next will be the best choice, even if it means hurting reggie.

suddenly he twitches, turning to you to reach over to your hand, which you feel like yanking away immediately, but you just stare at him in bewilderment.

“hey i’m sorry if i’ve been talking everyone’s ear off.” his tone is different, it’s serious, and his expression is too. “i didn’t realize how badly i could be bothering you and rafe since this is your date after all.”

you blink twice. acknowledgement? coming from him? this is the first. you try to continue staying unbothered as you reach for your drink.

“not the best at making friends,” he says with a slight chuckle. “and you just make me nervous i guess.”

you stop the flow of the drink as you stare forward. you gulp down what’s remaining in your mouth before setting the glass down, looking at him.

“nervous?” you ask him.

“you’re just pretty,” he says, and you slowly pull your hand away from him. “i’ve seen you in our english class.”

you feel off about this whole thing. “okay,” you mutter under your breath, but he grabs a handful of the table cloth.

you’re stunned at the aggression within him, and your hand instinctively reaches up to grab the table cloth to pull it down as much as you can so he doesn’t damage the restaurants property.

when he sees your hand within view again, he takes it instead, with force, “you can’t be sitting here with a guy like rafe cameron—i mean, what’s the appeal?” he snorts, “he doesn’t know how gifted you are. you’re at the top of all our classes.”

our classes?

“he can’t handle someone like you, he can’t satisfy you.”

you lean forward, staring at him directly. “get. the fuck. off of me,” you say through your teeth, but he keeps a firm grip.

“i’ve had my eye on you since the first day of school. he doesn’t know anything about you.”

“and you do?” you ask, and knowing that he said that must mean he knows a good deal about you, at least. it’s fucking creepy. who is this guy? “let go of me,” you tell him.

suddenly it’s so fast that you don’t see it coming.

rafe dashes across the floor and finds you, but rips reggie’s hand away from your wrist in one action. reggie seems to be raising his hands in surrender when he knows he’s caught, but rafe keeps two handfuls of reggie’s collar.

he’s heated, and you look to the side to find that aria is standing at the end of the hallway, devastated at the turnout of the two dates.

she realizes she should do something so she finds you quickly, and you get out of your chair to hold her hands. she checks your wrists for any marks.

“did he hurt you?” aria keeps asking in a panic, and you just watch as rafe handles reggie.

“i just held her wrist man, i just held her—” reggie is trying to say before rafe throws him to the ground.

he turns to you and aria, reaching his hand out.

you stare at his hand, then back at him, then take it. aria is connected with your other hand as rafe leads the two of you all the way down the stairs, then to the front of the restaurant.

“go outside, alright? i’m gonna pay the check,” rafe says in a hurry, and he reaches deep in his pockets for his keys, fumbling with them as he passes them to you. “go in the car already, okay? i’ll meet you there. aria, let reggie pay your check. just stay in the car.”

“okay,” you mumble as rafe leans in to press a kiss to your head before he leaves to call a server over, so you take aria’s hand and rush to where you remember rafe’s car is.

aria is in a fit, crying as you and her run across the seat, “i’m so sorry y/n! i didn’t think he was like that!”

“it’s fine aria, just c’mon,” you tell her as you open the door of the truck, scooting inside and urging her to come in with you in the backseat. “up, up, up.”

she has to hold onto the car door and the seat, lifting herself up and into the spot next to you. she shuts the door behind her.

you refrain from crying when aria begins to face her mistakes from that night. but you can’t blame her for choosing the wrong guy; it’s not like she knew before today that he is the way he is.

rafe soon joins you in the car and doesn’t question why you’re in the backseat with aria. he’s quick to start the car and go back home.

you stare at aria sound asleep in someone’s bed. it took a bit to get there, but all her crying stopped after the constant reassurance for half an hour. guess sleep got to her fast.

your arms are crossed but you rub the side of your arm as you look around the dorm.

“she’ll be safe,” a girl says from behind you. you turn around, finding one of aria’s friends there. you’re grateful to have already met aria’s other friends earlier in the year so you can have her fall asleep in her dorm room tonight. “i promise.”

“thanks for this, i really do appreciate it,” you tell her. “tell her to text me when she wakes up?”

“of course, goodnight,” she says, and you return it, slowly making your way out of the dorm so you can let her sleep too. you blow off some steam from this past night, and you begin walking to your dorm.

the memories replay in your head again and again. ‘ i’ve seen you in our english class . . . ’

where else have you seen me?

“hey,” a voice calls to you from across the hall. you’re startled by it ripping you away from your thoughts, but you look up to find rafe standing in his doorframe. you walk over to him immediately, clinging to him like a magnet once you’ve touched his skin.

you wrap your arms around his torso and press your ear to his chest, so he frowns, his arms coming around to embrace you.

“stay the night in my room,” rafe whispers, his hand coming up to rub his thumb against the top of your head. “enzo’s not in there tonight. he’s away for a tournament.”

you don’t even need to think about what’s best for you. you know what is.

“okay,” you say, because it’s him.

“do you wanna talk about it?” he asks you as he climbs onto his bed with you. you’re sitting up with your legs crossed, kind of just staring out.

“i don’t know,” you say, and he gets underneath the blanket. “no.”

he only sighs as he grabs an end of the blanket and pulls it over you at the very least. he lays his head down on his pillow and keeps his arm wrapped around your waist for comfort.

he closes his eyes. “do you want me to turn off the light?” he questions, referring to his lamp that he’s keeping on since you’re still awake. he can’t tell when you’ll lay down to fall asleep either.

“does it bother you if it’s on?”

he shrugs, “not if you want it on.”

you think about it for a moment, grateful that he’ll fall asleep with his light on if it helps you. “i can turn it off,” you volunteer, and he adjusts his head on his pillow as you reach over to his nightstand. “you have your nightlight anyway.”

you’re referring to the plug-in in the wall across the room. you don’t know whether it’s rafes or lorenzos, but it’s amusing to know that one of them need it to say the least.

“stop,” he whispers. “goodnight.”

it brings a smile on your face as you turn off the lamp and get under the sheets. you can’t see much, but you can make out some things with the nightlight on behind you.

you face rafe and lay your head on the pillow carefully, though you can’t sleep yet. you’re just watching him doze off on his own.

“goodnight,” you whisper back.

you close your eyes and try to keep tonight out of your thoughts—at least the positive bits. rafe surprising you at the library just because he knew you would be there, his constant load of messages of him expressing how excited he was for the date, the tugging at him so he’d admit where you two were going, even when rafe was handling reggie for you.

reggie. his name and face are burned in your mind.

you don’t feel yourself fall asleep until you’re mid-dream. the events of the night replay twice for you, but this time, rafe isn’t here to save you.

reggie’s reaching for your hand, gripping it, pulling it. you hear his laughter like an echo. he’s grinning at you, but there’s something uncanny about him this time. the way he’s looking at you.

you receive the stalker feeling from reggie, it is loud and clear. he’s been watching you since the first day of school and you didn’t even know it—what times has he been around to see you without you noticing?

your eyes snap open and you realize you’ve been crying as you sleep. you whine softly as you reach up to touch your cheek. your fingers get wet immediately, and you blink out the tears that have been building up most recently.

rafe feels your movement while he’s half-asleep, but he wakes himself up enough to open his eyes and breathe in a great deal of air as he checks up on you.

his hand on your arm becomes more focused, and you can tell he’s awake.

“are you okay?” he asks you, not thinking much of it until he reaches up to touch your face, and he instantly reacts to the tears streaming down your face. “y/n?” he reaches up and over you to turn his lamp on. when he looks down at you, he sees the state you’re in.

you don’t even mean to be crying but now that it’s here, it’s like you just can’t make it stop. you choke out a few sobs when there’s no point in hiding it anymore. “i had a nightmare,” you manage to get out in between.

rafe’s heart clenches at the sound of you, and he pulls you closer to him, wanting to offer whatever comfort he can. “c’mere,” he says quietly, “it’s okay, i’m here. and i’m not going anywhere. you’re safe with me.”

his words only make you cry harder, grateful that he’s willing to open his arms willingly for you. “it was reggie,” you tell him about your nightmare. “we were back the restaurant and he was trying to grab me again but it was so . . . aggressive and scary and . . .”

rafe listens to your words. he remembers the way reggie was with you tonight. rafe pulls you tighter against his chest, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. “hey, it’s okay.”

you want to just go to sleep peacefully, to forget about the guy, but your mind won’t allow it. you assume it’s because you didn’t properly process any of it before. you were so keen on making sure aria was okay that you set your own feelings aside.

“i just wanna sleep,” you mumble, wiping your eyes with your wrist.

he wants nothing more than to take away all your pain and worries. he looks at you, his eyes soft, and gently tilts your chin up to look at him. “you can sleep,” he says, “i’ll be here for you y/n. always.”

you look up at rafe and stare into his eyes, feeling his sense of care. all you want is him, to take your mind off of it. it’s a different method than usual to distract you, but it’s also used as a way to tell him thank you.

you lean in to press your lips against his.

rafe's heart flutters as he closes hie eyes, his hand reaching out to gently cup the side of your face. he deepens the kiss, running his tongue along your bottom lip before pulling back.

his breath is fanning over your lips as he looks down at you. he brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers tracing the shape of your face. “you know, i’ve been thinking,” he begins, his voice barely above a whisper.

“maybe we should just . . . forget about everything else for tonight. just you and me, okay?” he says, his eyes searching yours for understanding and agreement.

at his words, you want nothing more than him right now. you lean in for another kiss but this time, it’s hungrier. there’s more desire.

he catches your lips on his and his hand coming up to cradle the back of your head as he rolls onto his back, pulling you on top of him.

you sit up briefly to pull your shirt over your head, then lean back down to connect your lips with his again, your legs tangled with his. he kisses you softly, sweetly, his hands roaming over your back and sides.

rafe pulls back slightly, his lips still brushing against yours as he whispers, “i want you so bad, but only if you’re sure. i don’t want to rush anything.”

“i’m sure,” you promise him. “i need to get my mind off of this.”

with a nod from you, rafe moves his hands to your hips, helping you move to straddle him as he shifts so that he’s leaning back against the headboard. he leans in to kiss you again, his hands moving to your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples.

“fuck,” you hiss at the contact.

“god, you’re so beautiful,” rafe breathes, breaking the kiss to bury his face in your chest. he takes one of your nipples into his mouth, his hands squeezing and massaging the other breast. he sucks hard, his teeth grazing against the sensitive peak. you lean your head back on your shoulders.

rafe releases your nipple with a pop, his eyes locked on yours as he moves to the other breast, giving it the same treatment. he looks up at you, his face flushed, his lips swollen from kissing you. “tell me what you need,” he whispers, his breath hot against your skin.

your hands come up to cup his face, and your thumb traces his lips as you kiss him again, biting down on his lip softly, then pulling away. “i need you rafe,” you tell him.

“you have me,” he whispers.

you lift your hips up briefly so he’s able to pull his sweats and his boxers off together, and he kicks them off to the edge of the bed. you lower yourself down on his cock without putting it in yet, dragging your clothed cunt back and forth against him. all that’s separating you two is your underwear.

“fuck,” he groans, leaning back against the headboard again, his eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of your wetness through the thin fabric of your underwear. he can feel himself already dripping with pre-cum, and you haven’t even fully touched him yet.

“please,” you whisper against his lips like you’re begging for him to be inside of you already. you’re rocking your hips back and forth against the underside of his cock. you’re ready for him.

“you’re such a fucking tease,” rafe groans, reaching down to pull your panties to the side, “fuck, you’re wet too," he adds as he rubs the head of his cock against your entrance, teasing you back.

he finally relents, pushing inside of you slowly, watching as your eyes flutter shut and your mouth drops open in pleasure. “you feel so good,” he says.

"you’re so tight, mmhf, and wet—god, it’s like you were made for me,” he grunts, picking up a steady rhythm, sliding his cock in and out of your wet cunt while you moan.

he flips the two of you so you’re on your back with him hovering on top of you. he easily lifts your legs and lays them over his shoulders, making you gasp at the new sensation as he pushes inside of you deeper. “is this how you want it?”

you’re a moaning mess but you bite down on your lip to keep them all from coming out. “just like that rafe, please,” you whimper, savoring the feeling of his cock repeatedly pushing in and out of you at a steady pace.

“fuck, look at you,” he groans, his hands gripping your thighs tightly as he pounds into you, “so pretty and fucked out, just lying there and taking it.” he leans forward, burying his face in your neck as he fucks you harder.

you cry out at the new pace, and you wrap your arm around his neck to pull him closer.

his teeth sink into your neck as he fucks you even harder, the headboard slamming against the wall with each thrust. “you're mine, all mine, and i’m gonna fucking ruin you for anyone else.”

you feel yourself about to cum within the next minute, and you’re clinging to the feeling with everything you have. it feels too good to lose grip on.

rafe takes the opportunity to pull out before you do, and he lowers himself down to be eye-level with your pussy. he dives right in, his lips around your clit as his fingers toy at your entrance before slipping in. he wants you to cum from his mouth.

your mouth gapes open at the feeling of his long fingers being able to slide into your pussy with ease.

he smirks up at you, two fingers curled to hit that right spot inside of you as his tongue works your clit, determined to make you cum harder than ever before.

he sucks harder on your clit, his fingers thrusting into you even faster until you finally release.

he moans as he tastes you, fingers still pumping into you softly as you ride out the aftershocks, his tongue easing the intensity. “such a good girl for me,” he praises.

he keeps his fingers inside you, holding you through the aftershocks, his thumb pressing against your clit to keep the pleasure going as he looks up at you with a satisfied smile, “let’s get you cleaned up so you can go to sleep y/n.”

you realize he’s only made you cum, but not him. “wait, what? already? what about you?”

he shakes his head as he gets off of the bed. “it’s not about me angel,” he tells you. “plus, you look fucked out and satisfied. that sight is more than enough for me.”

before he goes to grab some tissues you assume, you reach for him and grab his wrist to stop him. he looks down at you, in which you tell him, “but i want to.”

he pauses and looks at you, a look of surprise flicking across his face as he looks down at you, probably not expecting you offering him a blowjob just to make him cum. then again, after the orgasm he just gave you, perhaps he shouldn't be so surprised.

“please.” you tug on his arm to get him to come back to bed with you. “lay down,” you murmur.

he smiles at you, a little bit amused before nodding and pulling his wrist out of your grip. he crawls back onto the bed, lying down so that his head is on the pillow while looking at you expectantly.

you watch him move, your heart racing in a mix of arousal and excitement. he can see the flush spreading on your cheeks as you inch closer to him. he could only smile at you, realizing that despite your bold act earlier, it’s still taking its toll on your nerves.

you take a look at his cock in front of you. it’s big, and it’s pulsating for you. you slowly move forward and press your lips to the tip first. he sucks in a breath. he could feel you moving forward slowly, taking him into your mouth inch by inch and it’s making his head spin.

you try not to gag at the feeling of him filling your mouth. you wrap your hand around his base and pump him as you suck. using your tongue, you swirl it around his tip.

after a bit, your mouth quickly leaves his cock and sucks at the tip of his ballsack instead. you suck on them one by one.

he moans at the sensation, his hand reaching down between his legs to tangle into your hair. he whispers his approval, letting you continue with what you’re doing. his brain overloaded with pleasure it’s hard to form any words or even sentences. he’s completely at your mercy.

you take that as approval to continue and spend a minute or two lavishing attention on his balls—licking, sucking, and worshipping them. then you go back to his cock, kissing your way back up before taking him back into your mouth, faster and deeper now.

he lets out a string of incoherent words and sounds as you do. his fingers tighten in your hair as he struggles to keep himself from thrusting forward and choking you. he’s so close already, and you’re not even halfway through your technique.

the vibrations from your humming send him over the edge. he starts thrusting forward, fucking your mouth with no regard for your comfort or safety. he’s too far gone, lost in the pleasure you’re providing him.

he starts to cum, his cock throbbing as he shoots load after load down your throat. he tightens his grip on your hair as he bucks his hips up against your mouth, keeping you there as he cums, groaning.

you swallow everything he gives you, never breaking eye contact with him until he’s spent and still. he collapses back onto the mattress, a heavy panting escaping his lips as he tries to recover from that orgasm. he’s never felt so spent right after sex before. he looks down at you, his body going weak again at the sight of you still there.

you smile, satisfied, content even, as you look up at him with half lidded eyes. “was that okay?” you ask softly.

“fuck, that was amazing,” he gasps out, trying to catch his breath. he watches as you go to his dresser to retrieve the box of tissues he keeps, and you make your way back to him.

you hand a tissue to him, but he just pulls you closer to press his lips against yours, needing to feel you again. there’s a slight blush on your cheeks as you pull away.

rafe is tired, but he’s staring at you like he’s in a daze, “you're going to be the death of me, i swear.”

sobbing omg that was all so fast paced

@sublimepenguinpeach-blog @lalalalala33 @darkcolorexpert @babyflockaaaa @lifeofleasaasa @ilyrafe @mkiverd @wxn-drlst @maybankslover @xxbirkindoll2 @chiliwhore @wearemadeofstardust0 @thepopcultureaddict @mounthings @ijustwanttoreadlols @karmasloverrr @lilithblackkk @drewsdirtyslut @rafesno1bae @mfdoomdickrider @pillowprincess4him @lanascokedeal3r @evilsturniolos

#rafe #rafe cameron #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x you #drew #drew starkey #drew starkey concept #drew starkey x you #drew starkey fic #drew starkey blurb #drew starkey fanfiction #drew starkey fanfic #drew starkey smut #drew starkey imagine

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laiahernandeeezzz · 4 months ago

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Hello lovely human,

could u write Yelena X reader. The reader is Natashas bestie and they meet after the events of endgame. Nat and Y/n are living together and Yelena joins them. Y/n and Yelena are slowly falling for each other and Nat is just like third wheeling or teasing them xdd

This took me quite long, and I had to split it in two... I hope you enjoy this first bit

******

FALLING SLOWLY

******

Pairing: Yelena Belova x fem!reader

Words: 1.8K

******

Living with a trained spy is, at least, curious. Natasha Romanoff was a peculiar individual, with weird mores. It wasn’t strange to find the red-head at 4 am fully awake, living for a run or having breakfast to start her day. On the other hand, Y/n still had, minimum, three to four more hours of sleep.

However, they understood each other perfectly. Chores were shared thoughtfully, Natasha not being able to get near the kitchen -she was capable of burning water-, and Y/n was forbidden near the washing machine -she had turned more than one white piece of clothing into another completely different colour. They had been sharing a home for years, but then a purple alien decided to blow up the compound, and they decided to buy a flat for themselves.

******

“Y/n… My precious friend, my favourite hero, my super talented cook” Natasha said in a singing voice as she entered the kitchen area, where Y/n was making pancakes for breakfast. As it was a Sunday, Natasha gave herself the pleasure to sleep in a bit.

“Stop that… What do you want? I don’t have Wanda’s ability to read your mind, but I know you well enough to know you want something”

“What? No” Y/n gave her an unimpressed look, “Okay, fine… So you know my sister Yelena, right? She was freeing some widows, and she just returned from the blip… We’ve been apart for so long, she has nowhere to go…” Y/n continued mixing the pancake mix, but raised her eyes to meet her friend’s ones.

“Can you go straight to the point please, this isn’t like you” Natasha sighed, feeling caught up, looking like a kid that had just broken a plate.

“Alright… I wanted to ask you if she can come live here with us? We have a spare room, she is nice, most of the time” the last part she mumbled, but kept eye contact with her roommate. The spy relaxed when she saw Y/n’s lips forming a wide smile.

“Nat, you could’ve just said that… Of course, she can come, I’m excited to meet her” Y/n went around the kitchen aisle to hug her friend quickly.

“Great, because she’ll be here in thirty minutes, thank you” Astonished, and with wide eyes, Y/n separated from Natasha, looking at her shocked.

“What? Oh, fuck you. What would you have done if I said no?”

“You forget that I also know you, you are too good to say no” Y/n returned to her task, shaking her head in disbelief, while Natasha went to prepare the spare room for Yelena.

Y/n decided to take a shower so she didn’t smell like pancakes when Yelena arrived. She also changed her clothes to something more presentable, and put come concealer on. When she got out, she heard her friend talking to someone with a very thick accent. That must be Yelena, she thought, while taking a deep breath and heading towards them.

The first thing she noticed of the blonde girl was that deep, husky laugh, as well as her voice. Once Yelena was fully in her sight, she could take her traits completely. She was quite tiny, but you could tell she was strong anyway, her hair was long, falling in waves onto her shoulder, she had the cutest round nose, and rosy cheeks. And as soon as they locked eyes, Y/n felt her breathing stop. Yelena’s eyes were the most beautiful shade of green, dots of what looked like gold tainted them.

Natasha was quickly introducing them, a small smirk on her face as she took in her friend’s shook. “Sestra, this is Y/n, my friend and roommate. Y/n this is Yelena, my baby sister”

“It is a pleasure to meet you” Y/n felt in some kind of trance, not being quite able to take her eyes off the smaller woman. You’re being creepy, stop it, her mind screamed at her, but she didn’t put any attention to it. What she did put her attention on was that accent, that now that she was closer, it was making her feel things that she didn’t want to acknowledge.

“Your accent is so cool” Eyes widened. Y/n’s face flushed in red, Natasha was trying so hard to not laugh, and she could’ve sworn Yelena’s cheeks were a bit more rosy than they were before. Well, she could’ve if she wasn’t so mortified. "I mean… It’s obviously a pleasure to meet you too… Who wants some breakfast?”

The blonde girl let out a loud “yes, please” and they headed to the sofa -they weren’t quite fond of eating on tables-. Y/n held herself back trying to calm down her pounding heart, but her roommate didn’t seem to think she had suffered embarrassment enough, “Stop mindfucking my sister in your head and come eat!” With a groan, and an annoyed expression, she joined the other two women, the frown on her face disappearing when she saw the two sisters together and laughing again.

******

Living with two sisters was, at least, interesting. They didn’t fight a lot, but when they did, the whole building shook. The worst part is that mostly those fights were because of stupid -in Y/n’s opinion- stuff. What to eat, who had to clean the bathroom, who chose what to watch on the TV… They were usually short, loud fights, but they had been fighting for twenty minutes, and Y/n couldn’t take it any more.

“That’s enough!” Finally, they shut up, looking at Y/n surprised. She didn’t tend to get in the middle of their arguments. “You’ve been fighting for almost half an hour over who will do the dishes, don’t worry I’ll do it, but please, lock yourselves in your rooms, because this is getting out of control.

The sisters looked ashamed, but knew that saying anything else wouldn’t help, so they left. Y/n headed to the kitchen, angry at her friends. She loved them, truly, but this was getting exhausting. Y/n knew that living with other people could be tough, but their fights were just ridiculous.

She had been cleaning for a few minutes when some footsteps came behind her. “I really don’t want to talk right now”.

“I just wanted to apologize to you” She didn’t have to turn around to know it was the blonde girl. Y/n would recognize that voice anywhere, that accent constantly running in her mind. The taller woman had accepted that she may or may not have some feelings towards Yelena, not that she was ever telling her friend that. Especially after knowing her for just a few weeks.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you, but it was getting absurd” She sighed and turned around to face the blonde, only to find her looking down, a sad frown on her face.

“I know it sounds like an excuse, but living with someone after so many years being alone it’s weird, hard” Y/n slightly knew their story, Natasha telling her when they found each other again, and their mission to bring down the Red Room.

“Hey, Lena? Don’t worry, it’s just sometimes I get triggered by shouts. My parents were constantly fighting when I was little, and I just hate it” Y/n felt a Yelena move to be closer, taking her hand, and stroking her finger on her knuckles. “I’ll try to do better I promise you” The Russian said, as Y/n hugged her, softly muttering a thank you.

Yelena then offered to help Y/n, so they cleaned the rest of the plates, doing small talk. What the girls didn’t notice was a certain redhead looking at them, with a small smile, watching at how the younger women laughed, Y/n pushing the blonde’s shoulder, while the latter rolled her eyes.

******

And Yelena did what she promised, fights minimum after two months. Bickering was still there, but most of the time it was more joking and teasing than serious. On the other hand, Yelena and Y/n entered a curious dynamic. They understood each other pretty well; shopping was their alone time without Natasha, not that she bothered them, but it was nice to have it.

Y/n had accepted that she did have feelings towards the blonde, but didn’t want to make her uncomfortable, so she never said anything. However, she wasn’t sure that the older woman didn’t also feel something, teasing and flirting was quite common, coming from her, but Y/n desperately convinced herself that it was just how Yelena was.

Those thoughts were running through her mind almost all the time, thankfully shower time let her rest from them, music blasting out the speakers of her phone. When she got out, she wrapped a towel around her body, it barely covered her butt, but she was sure her roommates were in their rooms.

She headed to her dormitory, humming the song she had been listening to without paying any attention to her surroundings until she bumped into something, making her slip with the water she was leaving on the floor, as well as her towel. Y/n expected to feel the floor against her back, but it never came.

An arm was wrapped around her waist, holding her close so she wouldn’t fall. A whimper came out of Y/n, when she locked eyes with the person in front of her. Yelena had her eyes widened, her hand hot against the younger woman’s back. They stayed in shock for a few seconds, but when the blonde returned to her senses, quickly separated from Y/n, picking the towel and handing it to the other girl.

Y/n muttered a soft thank you, while she walked -more like run- to her bedroom, closing the door behind her and resting against it. Her body was aroused by the thought of Yelena’s hands purposely running through her naked body. She felt like she needed to take a cold shower this time, but she wasn’t coming out of her room until dinner time, not feeling prepared to face the blonde girl again. What she didn’t know was that Yelena was in the same state as her, she was seated on the end of her bed, staring intensely at her hand, the feeling of Y/n’s back still lingering on her fingers.

A few hours later, three women were eating in silence, the younger ones looking at their plates as if they were the most interesting thing in the world, while the older burned her gaze into their skulls, taking their faces. “What is going on with you two?”

And, finally, the girls looked up. They quickly glanced at each other, cheeks red instantly. “Nothing” both of them said, and Natasha for once didn’t push any further, enjoying the girls’ embarrassment.

[part one]

#florence pugh #florence pugh fanfiction #florence pugh imagine #florence pugh x reader #florence pugh one shot #florence pugh x fem reader #florence pugh x you #florence #yelena belova #florence pugh x y/n #yelena belova x female reader #yelena belova x y/n #yelena belova x reader #yelena x reader #yelena belova imagine #yelena belova x you #yelena x y/n

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gallawitchxx · 7 months ago

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hi beeee!! i hope you're doing okay 💖💖💖

ooohohohoho okay for the kiss thingy: god knows why cuz it sounds potentially very painful but i feel so compelled to request 28 🙏

sweet deanna! i'm hanging in, thanks love! 💖 so you & @lingy910y both requested #28 & i want to fill both of your prompts. but because you were (rightfully) afraid of pain, i gave you one that's a bit strange, but has a promisingly happy ending? you can be the judge! xx

- - - - -

send me a number & i'll write you a smoocheroo 😚

- - - - -

#28: ...as a lie ps. this is inspired by this post about dealer!mickey & insomniac!ian, who have now rotted my brain.

Ian hasn’t slept in days.

It’s happened before—endless energy is one of his tried-and-true symptoms of mania—but this isn’t that. He’s taking his meds, his skin isn’t crawling and his mind is fairly quiet. Quiet enough to frustrate him as he tosses and turns and wonders what the fuck’s going on.

His schedule has been all over the place lately; his normal routine lost to the endless cycles of employment and Gallagher family responsibilities. He’d been hoping to add school to the mix this semester so that he could have other, less hectic options than a rig-riding EMT, but he’d pushed it off. A pity, now that all-nighters are apparently his thing.

Night two, he googles a few things, which is a huge mistake. Who can fall asleep after reading about how even just twenty-four hours without sleep can begin to derail your bodily systems? Sleep deprivation can cause or worsen conditions like Type 2 diabetes, High blood pressure, Stroke, Heart attack—his pulse leaps as his phone clatters to the ground.

Night three, he takes to the streets, running around the Southside until his lungs burn and his knees wobble. As he passes the clinic that gave his seventeen-year-old self a lifetime prescription for antipsychotics, he knows that if this lasts much longer, he should call his doctor. Tell them his nighttime meds aren’t putting him to sleep anymore. Nip this insomnia thing in the bud before it can overthrow the delicate balance he’s worked so hard to maintain.

Night four, desperate and a bit delusion, he pulls up a number he hasn’t used in years, saved under a contact labeled, DO NOT TEXT.

He breaks his own rule: Hey. Still making house calls?

The response is almost immediate: the fuck u care for?

Ian rolls his bloodshot eyes, typing: It’s an emergency.

Three little dots herald a response that makes him laugh: a weed emergency?

He stays strong: Wouldn’t ask if I didn’t need it.

The next text makes his chest clench: u ok?

He decides to keep it vague—I can’t sleep, but it’s not what you think.—and hopes he doesn’t have to explain further and is relieved to read: u want ur usual?

Another clench: Indica

Two texts arrive in rapid succession: what else do u want? can i give u head while u smoke or no?

There it is: the reason Ian doesn’t use this number anymore.

Maybe in another life it would be a blessing to have a weed dealer to lovers arc with your childhood crush, but in this one, it was a curse. A curse that lasted almost a whole year, bringing with it an endless bouquet of blissful fucks and free weed, and a million moments of tenderness Ian knew nobody else was getting out of the guy. A curse that eventually came to collect payment in the form of bloodied knuckles, broken hearts and ego wounds. A curse that still clings to Ian’s psyche, filling his dreams with gentle, tattooed fingers and bright blue eyes and a sweet and savory scent that can only be described as Mickey.

Mickey, now DO NOT TEXT.

On second thought, maybe he should never sleep again.

The knock at the door makes him hard—a Pavlovian response that irks him more than the three sleepless nights he’s suffered so far. Three raps, one right after the other. The last one no more than a brush of his hand.

Ian adjusts himself and answers the door.

Fuck, one look at that smug asshole and he’s immediately right back in it. Lust and like and maybe even a little bit of reckless fucking love fill his body, rising to the surface like sweet cream. A layer of fat on the roof of one’s mouth; a treat to lick later, a reminder that they didn’t end things because they weren’t insanely hot for one another and potentially soulmates. They were just idiots. Stubborn, petty dicks.

Oh Pride, the great slayer of men.

Jesus, he needs to sleep.

“First one’s on the house,” Mickey says as he crosses the threshold, a joint held tightly between C and K.

Hours slip by. They laugh, they smoke. It feels like old times. Ian’s body is loose in a way it hasn’t been in years. It feels good. Like maybe-he-could-sleep-tonight good. And as he melts further into the couch, he starts to get a little horny too. Because Mickey’s yapping on and on about some asshole that frequents the bar he works at, and Ian’s listening, he swears he’s listening, but he’s also staring at Mickey’s mouth like he wants to take Mickey up on that text message and shut him the fuck up with his dick.

Like he wants to taste the stale smoke of his tongue.

Wants him to stay the night.

Forever, maybe.

Mickey finishes his story. His eyes go soft and he drums his fingers against his knee. “Should get outta your hair, Gallagher,” he says. “Letcha sleep.”

That’s the last thing Ian wants.

“Not tired,” he fibs.

Mickey cocks an eyebrow. “You’re not? ’S been days, man. This shit’s gotta be hittin’ ya by now.”

It’s true. It has been days and this shit is hitting him. Or maybe he’s having a sleep-deprivation-induced stroke. He just knows Mickey can’t go.

“Can’t go to sleep without a goodnight kiss.”

Mickey’s already leaning in when he asks, “Then you promise you’ll hit the hay?”

Ian nods as Mickey presses a kiss to his lying lips.

#welp - throws whatever this is at you #alskfjalkj #i realized that both of my kisses are at the very end of the ficlet & aren't actually described #lolol #maybe my next attempt should be 1K words of just describing the kiss #no actual context needed #just tongues #anyway THANKS DEANNA I LOVE YOU DEANNA #shameless #shameless fanfiction #prompt fill #ian x mickey

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 7 months ago

Text

Once Upon a Time 10

Warnings: non/dubcon and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Andy Barber

Part of the Bookstore AU

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

A message pops up on your Instagram. You open it with dread, a blank profile with some generic photo of a bookshelf. You already know it's him.

‘Your aunt is very nice.’

You nearly drop your phone as you glance over at Jo. She sits with a cross stitch as she watches a rerun of Cold Case. You shudder and look back down at the screen.

‘Why r u doing this?’

You hit the arrow as your sweaty hands stick to the silicon case.

‘Why am I being nice?’ He replies.

You can't. You stand up with your phone and your Aunt Jo peeks over with an arched brow. You give an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, I'll be right back.”

You cross the room and pass the kitchen doorway. You lock yourself in the bathroom and look at your phone. You see three dots then they disappear.

‘You followed me.’

He sends a rolling eye emoji. You nearly scream. What the hell? He's rolling his eyes at what? Stalking you?

‘More than once.’

He sends a laughing emoji with tears. You huff. He's so confusing. Then a photo pops up, buffering before finally loading.

It's Chelsea, well, the top of her head and she's…

You want to puke. You can't believe he'd send you that. Does she know he took that? Even if she's a bitch, you feel bad.

‘Looks like I'm all taken care of.’ He texts.

‘Looks like you are.’

You turn your phone to do not disturb and lock it. He's disgusting. You don't even get what he wants from you. If he has Chelsea doing all that, why the heck is he texting you?

You take your phone to the spare room, what was once your room, and leave it there. You don’t want to be bothered by him, even if you can’t shake the uneasiness stirring your nerves. You go back to the living room and sit down on the couch. You stare unseeingly at the television as the syndicated legal series drones on.

“What was that, honey?” Jo asks, poking her needle up then pulling it through.

“Work,” you lie, “um, they keep moving around the schedule or whatever. It’s... frustrating.”

“Ah, that’s too bad,” she tug the thread to its limit, “you’re stressed. Maybe you should take a day off.”

“Maybe,” you rub your forehead, “or get a different job.”

“Could do,” she shrugs, “you know I’ll support whatever you do.”

“Yeah,” you drop your hands into your lap and look at her, “I know.”

You turn back to screen and try to hide your despair. Should you try to tell her about Andy? The thought’s crossed your mind a dozen times over. Your Aunt Jo is fierce and loving, she might just believe you but it’s not her holding you back. It’s him. He’s dangerous and he hasn’t yet shown you how dangerous.

It’s better she doesn’t know. Not right now. You’ll have to deal with Andy. Just not tonight.

📖

You grumble around the last mouthful of coffee. Another day, another shift. While Jo’s suggestion was tempting, you really can’t give up the hours. Nonetheless, you haven’t sat on your hands. Several applications were forward late into the night as sleep eluded you. Now you can barely hold your head up.

It shouldn’t be very busy at opening. You can survive on an instant coffee packet from the breakroom. You yawn and grab your coat and bag. The snow puffs up around your boots as you step outside, shivering as you tuck your scarf into the top of your jacket. You pull your hood up against the frigid wind and tamp down the fresh powder as you come down the walk.

As you get to the sidewalk, you stop and look both ways. Before you can cross and head for the bus stop, a horn honks, jarring you. You step back as a familiar car rolls up. You cross your arms, heart racing, and peek back over your shoulder at the safe hold of your aunt’s house.

“Buses are behind,” Andy calls through the window as it slides down, “you’ll be late...”

“I’m fine,” you sidestep to walk around the rear bumper and he shifts into reverse, blocking your escape.

“I know your aunt didn’t teach you to be so ungrateful--”

“Don’t talk about my aunt,” you snap as you turn back the other way and he rolls forward. You stop short and stomp your foot, “why are you doing this? Why are you bugging me? Chelsea--”

“I don’t want Chelsea, she’s a slut. She’s easy. She gets the job done,” he sneers.

You shake your head and blow out a cloud of warmth into the crisp air, “I’m sure there are other--”

“You,” he says tersely, “that’s it. No one else.”

You close your eyes and shudder, “I... I’m not interested... like that, Andy. I just was being friendly because it’s my job. Can’t you understand?”

“I don’t understand,” he snarls, “I’m a lawyer, I’m good-looking, I take good care of myself and I could do the same for you. You wouldn’t have to work in some shitty bookstore.”

You flutter your lashes and shake your head, “I...”

“What? Why don’t you want me?” He leans over the seat further, glaring at you.

“How old are you?” You blurt out, immediately sealing your lips in regret.

He scoffs, “and how old are you? Bit over the hill to be in retail, huh? I know you’re not some college kid getting a few extra bucks. You’re a grown woman, your life is a mess. You need someone like me.”

You huff, “I need you to leave me alone.”

He clucks and sits up. The car idles in front of you as he sits silently. He grips the real and clears his throat, “I’ll be seeing you for dinner. Aunt Jo sure is sweet, maybe you could learn a thing or two from her.”

The window rolls up before you can spit back a retort. The mention of your aunt flares in your chest. How dare he. You know it’s more than a snipe at you, he’s not saying her name for nothing. It’s a threat.

He steers away down the snowy road, the snow packing beneath the weight of the car. You watch his headlights stop at the corner before you kick through the snow. Fuck.

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #drabble #once upon a time #defending jacob #au #bookstore au #series

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francesderwent · 5 months ago

Note

Cate my love I’m thinking about using Secondhand Lions for a movie night lesson and I’m wondering can you help me See The Good Themes. Like I get them but I can’t Say them yet u know. What are the words for what it is about.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!

ok first of all DO IT

second of all:

Secondhand Lions to me is tied up with that scene with Puddleglum in the Green Lady’s underground where he says “I’m going to live as a Narnian even if there isn’t any Narnia”—the heart of the movie is three scenes, three dots to connect:

the Everything a Boy Needs To Know About Being A Man speech, which says you have to go on believing in the most important things in the world—true love never dies!!—even if you aren’t sure they’re true. maybe even if they’re not.

Walter saying “Hub and Garth couldn’t have robbed any banks, they were in the French foreign legion fighting sheiks and stuff” and his mother says “you really buy that?? Mr. Doubting Thomas?” and he nods his head and smiles and says “Yes, yes I do.” even though the story is fantastical! he believes the adventure rather than the crime. and it’s a choice, to believe in a beautiful world rather than the crummy one his mother lives in.

the epilogue! which says you had faith in beauty and you created beauty even when the world showed you nothing but ugliness. so now I will tell you without a doubt. it was true. it was real.

there’s a Ratzinger quote from Introduction to Christianity which I dug up:

justice cannot be seen! the immortality of the soul cannot be seen! the ultimate triumph of true love cannot be seen! but we choose to believe in them anyway, and we choose to believe that the unseen is in fact more real and vital than the seen world of passing things. that’s what Secondhand Lions is about. it’s about Walter’s conversion—about his coming to exist in a human way.

#asks

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helloalycia · 1 year ago

Text

the Clarks [three] // alicia clark

summary: now that Nick has finally returned from rehab, you both have to start considering what happens following graduation.

warning/s: mentions of relapsing, drugs and alcoholism.

author's note: it’s a bit late again, my bad! but here’s part 3, hope you like it 🥰

one / two / four / five / masterlist / wattpad

18 years old...

Time had flown so quickly since Nick returned home and, before I knew it, we were counting down the days until graduation. There was only a week left before we'd both be walking onstage to collect our diplomas – something we were both surprised to achieve, but nonetheless grateful.

We were laying on his roof the evening before our last week in school, staring up at the stars and chatting about anything and everything. It was one of those moments you didn't want to end because you were at peace and nothing could change that.

"Are you gonna leave if I pull out some weed?" he asked suddenly, ruining the moment.

I groaned quietly. "Nick..."

He laughed quietly, already pulling out a joint and lighting it. "It's only weed, it won't kill me."

I gave him a disapproving look. He was supposed to be clean, but he'd been using weed on and off for the past few weeks. It was better than much worse drugs out there, but it still worried me in case he got addicted again.

He breathed in before sighing with relief as he got more comfortable, moving one arm behind his head to use as a pillow.

"What do you think you're gonna do after school's finished?" I asked him once it fell quiet again.

"Dunno," he said honestly.

"Haven't you applied for any colleges?"

He snickered, as if I'd said something amusing. "Nope. Mum's been on my back about it, but I don't know if I want that right now. Why force it?"

I hummed in acknowledgement, admiring the few stars dotted in the sky. "You've been through a lot this past year. Maybe you should use this time to focus on yourself for a while."

He put his joint to his lips once more before handing it over to me. "Maybe. What about you?"

I quirked a brow, looking between me and the joint. He tried not to laugh as he waved it in the air.

"C'mon, it won't kill you," he teased.

I sighed, figuring it would be okay to let loose just this once. Accepting the joint, I took a smoke and pulled a face at the taste. I'd had weed before, but only a little, and aside from the momentary high it gave me, I wasn't a huge fan.

"I don't know either," I finally answered his question. "Not properly anyway."

He laughed as he nudged me. "Yeah you do. C'mon. Tell me."

I shrugged. "I'll be working full time at the diner, hopefully only for the year. They said they'd take me on. I'm saving to go to college."

"How wise," he joked, making me smile and roll my eyes.

I smoked some more, letting myself fall into nothing as I embraced the silence, and then Nick and I both turned to the left when we heard a noise on the roof.

"Gee, thanks for the invite." It was Alicia.

Nick groaned lightheartedly. "Go away. I'm trying to hang out with my friend and you're ruining it."

I slapped his arm playfully. "Shut up, Nick. She can join us."

"I was going to anyway," Alicia said before laying down beside me.

Nick grumbled to himself as I chuckled, then I passed her the joint. She gladly accepted, smoking it, before glancing over at me.

"So, what were you talking about?" she asked.

"What Y/N's gonna do after graduation," Nick filled her in.

She hummed, looking back to the sky. "Working, right?"

"Uh-huh," I confirmed.

"If only we could all get straight A's like you, Leashy," Nick teased.

"If you tried, you could, idiot," she retorted, making me chuckle as he scoffed.

The three of us stayed up there for a little while longer, talking nonsense, getting semi-high and preparing ourselves for the last week of school tomorrow. By the time the sky started spinning above me, I knew it was probably time to pack it in for the evening, but before I could say anything, Alicia spoke up from beside me.

"You'll still be around, right?" she asked. "Afterwards?"

It took me a few seconds longer than usual to realise she was talking about after I graduate, and I looked over at her, nodding.

"Of course," I said. "Where else would I go?"

She smiled softly, eyes dilated and half-lidded at the same time, and just like me, she was slightly out of it. It didn't help that I couldn't seem to look away from her, and I wasn't sure if the moment was abnormally long or if I was too high to make sense of it, but I couldn't stop thinking about how pretty she looked. About how much I wanted to kiss her right now. About how I was certain I'd stay by her side as long as I could because she meant so much to me, more than I'd ever let on.

When I found my thoughts drifting, I looked up at the sky again and blinked, suddenly coming out of my weed-induced daze. That was weird, thinking of Alicia like that. She was my best friend's little sister and she thought of me as family. I was being weird. Oh, God.

Massaging my head briefly, I began to sit up. This is why I wasn't a weed person, especially not whilst laying next to the girl I had major feelings for.

"You okay?" Alicia asked, and Nick nudged me with his foot, his way of checking in.

"Yeah, just tired," I half-lied, because it was kind of true. They didn't need to know the rest. "I'm gonna call it a night."

"We all should," Alicia agreed. "Early start tomorrow."

I hummed in agreement, and avoided looking at Alicia for the rest of the evening.

Graduation day finally arrived, and though my mum didn't care enough to see me collect my diploma, I still had the Clarks standing in my corner, making it worthwhile.

The last thing I expected was for Madison and Alicia to throw Nick and I a joint celebratory party at their house after the ceremony. It was one of the nicest things anyone had ever done for me – the other nice things also being from them, funnily enough – and I definitely cried. Nick appreciated it too, but he was never a fan of these sorts of things. Either way, I was grateful enough for the both us.

Madison had invited some of the neighbours and Alicia had invited some of her friends to hang out with. It was a small affair, but I didn't have anyone special to me other than them anyway, so I loved it nonetheless.

It was at this party where I finally met Alicia's boyfriend, Matt. He was nice enough when she introduced him and he seemed to treat her the way she deserved. Truthfully, there wasn't a single fault. And yet, I still didn't like him. I knew why, but that didn't matter. My feelings didn't. So, I played nice and avoided them like the plague, as one does.

After conversing with everyone, I took a breather in the corner of the garden where some food was laid out. Nick found me there, revealing that he was heading off.

"So soon?" I asked with confusion "This party is mainly for you, Nick. You can't just leave."

He waved a dismissive hand. "No one will care. Besides, you'll still be here. I'm gonna go hang out with Gloria."

Gloria was his friend from rehab, and though she seemed lovely, the two of them didn't seem to bring out the best in one another. Still, it was clear she was more than a friend to him, so I couldn't comment.

"Why don't you invite her here?" I suggested, before popping some fruit in my mouth. "Everyone seems to be bringing their partners."

He chuckled, giving me a look. "Firstly, Gloria isn't my partner. Secondly, that technically leaves you out. Where's your partner, Y/N?"

"Non existent, arsehole."

"Hopefully not for long," he said between laughter, before hugging me. "See you later."

I sighed as I watched him leave. It was his day too, and if he wanted to celebrate with Gloria, who was I to stop him? My eyes drifted from his retreating figure to the other party guests mingling in the garden, and then they settled on Alicia and Matt, lingering without meaning to. She was giggling at something he said and it left a bitter taste in my mouth.

It was stupid to still like her after all this time, especially when she had a boyfriend, but I truly couldn't help it.

"How's my new graduate doing?" Madison suddenly appeared, earning my attention.

I returned her smile and straightened up. "I'm good, Madison. Thank you again for doing all this. It's wonderful."

"You gotta stop thanking me," she said with amusement, before standing beside me with her drink and looking out at everyone. I wondered what she wanted, but before I could ask, she said, "I got you a little something."

She pulled out an envelope from behind her back and held it out to me.

"Oh, Madison, you really didn't have to. This party is more than enough," I said, attempting to decline, but she shook it for emphasis.

"Stop it, Y/N, just take it."

It didn't feel right to, but it was also rude to decline her sweet gesture, so I reluctantly accepted the envelope and opened it. My jaw immediately dropped when I pulled out a cheque for five thousand dollars, addressed to me.

"It should cover most of your time at community college, right?" she asked innocently, like she didn't know.

"Madison, I..." Five thousand dollars? That was more than I'd saved in the past three years! "I could never take this. I– What the hell?"

"It's yours now," she assured me. "A gift."

I glanced at her, seeing her kindness reflected in her eyes, the same one she offered to me ever since I moved in next door. But this was too much. I couldn't accept it.

Ignoring her, I put the cheque back in the envelope and tried to give it back to her, but she refused, hiding her hands in her pockets.

"Madison–"

"No," she said sternly. "You're like a daughter to me, Y/N. I see a lot of myself in you and I care about like I do my own kids."

I pressed my lips together, unsure how to respond. She never spoke how she felt, so this was a rarity.

"Nick, he... he's lost," she continued, smiling at me dryly. "He doesn't wanna go to college apparently. I'm hoping that'll change, but..." She clicked her tongue. "Alicia is already set. It's always been smooth sailing for her. So, that only leaves you. And I know that your mum, she... well, I don't expect her to have saved for you, and I know you've been saving for yourself, but it'll take too long and I don't want you to miss out. So, I'm giving this to you and I want you to enrol now. For this year. It's not too late."

Tears were making their way to my eyes as I looked at her. "Madison."

"Please," she said gently.

Nobody had ever cared this much for me before, nobody except her. I'd always known she considered me family, but there was playing family and there was actually being family. And nobody just handed somebody five grand unless they meant it. And Madison, especially, wouldn't do something like this unless she meant it.

My mum, my dad... they never cared. Not truly. And though Nick and Alicia would both argue that their mother had no emotions, I'd always think the opposite. This woman stood before me was the most sensitive person I knew.

Unable to answer with words, I nodded slowly before pulling her in for a hug so tight that I was certain I couldn't let go. She rubbed my back comfortingly before we both pulled away and I looked down at the envelope once more.

"I'm gonna pay you back," I promised, to which she instantly shook her head.

"No way. It's not a loan, Y/N, it's a gift."

I breathed out slowly, laughing to disguise from my embarrassment at crying with happiness. She may have gifted it to me, but I knew I'd pay her back one day anyway. For everything.

"I'm so so proud of you, sweetie," she said, resting a hand on my shoulder and making me look at her again. "You're gonna do amazing things one day and I can't wait."

More tears rolled down my cheeks and I felt an overwhelming happiness flood through me. I wasn't sure what I'd done to deserve this, but I was glad for it.

"Y/N, hon, can you go get Matt and Alicia? Dinner's ready," Madison called to me in the living room.

I glanced back at her from the couch. "Sure thing."

I would have much preferred not to, but I also knew I needed to get over myself about this whole Alicia thing, so I forced myself off the couch and headed upstairs to Alicia's room. Her door was almost closed, slightly ajar as per Madison's rule whenever Matt visited. I was about to enter, but I paused when I heard them talking in quiet voices.

"I just can't wait to leave already," Alicia was saying, which is what earned my attention because she sounded a little fed up. "Get as far away from them as I can."

"Not too far, I hope," Matt joked.

"Not too far, of course," Alicia agreed, before they both sighed in unison, and I cringed, knowing they'd probably just kissed.

I was going to stop lurking and just walk in, but I couldn't help but overhear as she continued. And I knew it was wrong to eavesdrop, but I had an instinct to just listen.

"I'm just tired," Alicia continued. "Looking after Nick, being mum's second priority, dealing with Travis..."

Travis was Madison's boyfriend, a recent part of the Clarks lives, and a better one, in my opinion, but of course Nick and Alicia didn't see it that way because their father's death was still fresh for them. Travis was a teacher at school, which is how Madison and him had met, so Alicia probably saw him more often than she wanted to.

"It's just easier to look after myself," Alicia finished. "I basically have been anyway."

"And what about Y/N?" Matt asked curiously.

"What about her?"

"You wanna get away from her too?"

I held my breath as I awaited her response, the second of silence killing me.

"Of course not," she said matter-of-factly, which had me relieved for a moment before she unfortunately continued, "but she won't leave here. And I can't hang around."

Definitely not expecting that, I frowned and stepped back instinctively, but I must have made a sound as Alicia called out loudly.

"Is someone there?"

Flushing with embarrassment, I cleared my throat and pushed the door open, poking my head in, but I couldn't for the life of me meet any of their eyes. "Madison said dinner's ready."

"Oh, okay," she answered awkwardly.

"Matt, you can stay too," I added uncomfortably.

"Actually, I should head back," he answered, "but thanks for the offer."

I nodded and turned to leave, heading back downstairs and forcing myself to ignore everything I'd just heard. It wasn't my business anyway, and I shouldn't have been eavesdropping. It had just taken me by surprise is all, as Alicia had never expressed thoughts of leaving as strongly as she had just then.

When the Clarks and I sat together eating dinner, I felt Alicia's eyes burning holes into the side of my head, but I refused to meet her gaze. I still felt odd and I couldn't stop thinking about her words. Were her family that bad that she wanted to leave so quickly after graduation? Was I?

After dinner, once I'd helped Madison clear the table, I was on my way to get my jacket when Alicia suddenly pulled me to the side, out of sight from everyone else as we were alone in the living room.

"You heard me talking to Matt, didn't you?" she blurted out in a hushed voice.

I blinked, looking down at her hand which was still gripping my arm. She let go once she realised, and I played dumb.

"No, I didn't."

She narrowed her eyes, studying me carefully as if debating whether to push it. Finally, she rolled her eyes and turned to leave, but I couldn't seem to just let it go.

"Are you really just going to leave?" I asked calmly. "Go as far away as you can?"

She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "You don't get it."

"Then explain," I said with confusion. "Because it sounds like you're counting down the days until you get your diploma, then you're off."

She met my eyes, giving me a look. "It's not like that. But yes, I've been applying to colleges far from here."

I frowned, a little hurt that she'd never told me any of this before and that I'd found out the way I had. "Well, at least I know you'll get in, right? You're not dumb."

Her expression softened and she tried to touch me, but I backed up. "Y/N."

"You don't know how grateful you are, do you?" I said, a little sterner than I intended, but it was the only way I knew. "Your family. They're a little dysfunctional, sure, but they care. And the way you talk about them, like they're such a burden–"

"They are!" she snapped in a low voice, surprising me. "Nick is back on drugs, and who has to be there when he's coming back down? Me! I babysit him like he's the younger brother. And mum, she's always at his beck and call, but me? She couldn't care less!"

I scrunched my eyebrows together in shock. "Alicia, that's not true–"

"It is!" she exclaimed angrily. "You wouldn't know."

Her anger was contagious and I scoffed, shaking my head. "So, what? They're all a burden because they need you? Makes me wonder what you think of me."

"That's not fair," she said in a low voice.

"Isn't it? I won't leave here. Isn't that what you said?"

She opened her mouth, eyebrows raising with disbelief. "That's because it's true! You won't! This is your chance to get out, make a life away from this one, but you stay!"

"I won't, or I can't?" I answered, glaring at her with teary eyes. "In case you've forgotten, I have fucking nobody! No money, no family, nothing! I don't even have a freakin' car! Where the hell would I go? I'm only at fucking college because your mum felt sorry for me and gave me the money! So, of course I won't just leave. I can't!"

She'd never hinted she felt this way before and it was horrifying. Had I overstayed my welcome? I was technically an adult now, but I never thought... maybe I had pushed my luck. Either way, there was a way to tell me and this wasn't it. And now I felt humiliated, burning with anger and hurt and it was so much worse because it was coming from Alicia.

"Wait...," she murmured, eyes roaming my face as her expression softened and the reality of the conversation hit her. "Just wait. Y/N, I didn't mean it like that. I shouldn't have said that."

She attempted to touch my face, but I moved away and wiped the tears from my cheeks.

"It doesn't matter," I said, tired. "Forget it. Just– forget it."

"No, just– Y/N, wait, please, I'm sorry–"

Walking past her, I grabbed my jacket and didn't bother to stay any longer or hear her out. Clearly, I wasn't wanted.

The next day, I was sat on campus eating lunch after class. It was supposed to be a well-needed moment of quiet in one of my favourite places – next to a park where some ducks always came out near the water and made for a lovely sight. I wasn't able to focus in class after everything that went on last night, so I thought a lunch alone in my favourite spot would help, but it was just my luck that I couldn't even have that.

A familiar figure began to approach the picnic bench I was sat on, not even giving me chance to open my sandwich.

"Hey," Alicia said when she stopped before the bench, looking nervous.

I sighed, dropping my sandwich. "How did you find me?"

She waved her phone in the air. "Find My iPhone."

I was seriously regretted enabling that function, but we'd all agreed to do so after we couldn't find Nick that one time when he went on a night out. Now, I just wanted to be alone.

"I want to apologise and I couldn't wait any longer," she said softly.

"Forgive and forget," I said dismissively, picking up my sandwich again. "You can go now."

"No," she said stubbornly, before taking a seat opposite me. "Y/N, I'm so fucking sorry. I never meant to say what I did. I didn't mean it like that at all. You were right. I have more than most and I took advantage of it. I guess I just wanted to start fresh."

"Yeah, without everyone," I reminded her, looking between her eyes. "Without your family. Without–"

"Not without you," she stated with an apologetic look. "Never without you."

I wanted to believe her – she'd never lied to me before, but after everything she'd said... there had to be some truth to it.

"I applied for colleges here too," she shared, resting her hand on mine on the table. "I don't know where I'm going or what I'm doing, but I'm not trying to run away. You're all my family. I love you."

I swallowed hard, looking down. "Maybe I don't get it. Not fully. But I just thought–" I paused, not even sure what I was trying to say. "I don't know."

She squeezed my hand gently, earning my attention. "The best thing that could have happened to me is us taking you in as one of our own. The last thing I wanted was to make you feel any less."

I sighed, hating how much I cared about what she thought of me. About what all of the Clarks did. But they were all I had.

"I'm so sorry," she repeated. "I never meant to upset you and I've been kicking myself since I said what I did."

I nodded slightly, resting my other hand on hers in reciprocation. "It's okay. I get it. Your situation is tough and you had to grow up a lot faster because of Nick... I've tried to help ease that burden for you, but Nick can get out of control sometimes, I know."

"I appreciate it," she said, but I wasn't looking for acknowledgement, I just wanted her to be okay.

"I'm sorry, too," I told her. "The whole making your problems seem smaller thing wasn't cool."

"Thank you," she said with a nod of acceptance.

"Wherever you choose to go to college, I'll still be here for you," I promised her. "Whether it's Timbuktu or around the corner."

She cracked a small smile, bringing a light to her eyes that I'd missed. "I know."

"Ideally not Timbuktu though," I added lightheartedly. "Flights would be a little pricey."

A quiet chuckle flew from her lips as she nodded. "Noted." Her smile reminded as she met my eyes hopefully. "I have a free period. Wanna eat lunch together?"

I returned her smile. "I'd like that."

19 years old...

Nick's MIA. Is he with you?

I read Madison's message with furrowed brows, both confused and worried for my best friend. It was the third time this month he'd gone rogue, worrying his whole family.

Attempting to call Madison, I cursed when she wouldn't pick up then dropped her a text to let her know he wasn't but that I'd update her if anything changed. Then, when I finally finished my morning classes, I gave Alicia a call as I waited for the bus.

"Y/N, what's up?" she answered straight away.

"Your mum just said Nick's missing again," I said, but before I could finish, Alicia was already speaking.

"He's been found," she assured me, though she sounded understandably pissed off. "They brought him into the hospital this morning. Idiot got hit by a car. No surprises what he was up to."

I chewed on my lower lip, worried. "Is he okay?"

I could imagine her eye roll as she said, "Considering he didn't get arrested, I'd say he was great." She paused, then her frustration left her tone as she said, "I've got class, Y/N. Can we talk later?"

"Of course," I said, feeling bad for her because this sort of thing had been happening a lot more than usual lately. "Sorry. See you later, Leashy."

"See you later."

I wanted to check on Nick, but he was in hospital overnight and when Madison offered to let me join her, Alicia and Travis to visit him in the morning, I couldn't afford to miss class. I almost did, but Madison assured me it was okay and he'd be fine, so I promised I'd visit later that afternoon. Only, when I tried to arrange it with Madison, they revealed he'd escaped the hospital without telling anyone.

Naturally, I was worried out of my mind, but Madison and Travis promised they were searching for him, so I shouldn't worry about it. Easier said than done, of course.

That same day, after class, I tried ringing Madison to see if there were any updates about Nick's whereabouts, but there was no answer.

By the time I'd stopped by to grab some lunch and headed home, I went straight for the Clarks house to check in. I was surprised to find Madison at home.

"Y/N, you're here," Madison said when she answered the door, immediately pulling me in for a hug. "I was just about to call."

Confused, I returned the hug. "Er, yeah... I just wanted to see if there was any news with Nick."

At this, she pulled me inside the house and that's when I saw the idiot himself stood in the living room. Relieved at the sight of him, but also concerned because of some bruises covering his face, I pulled him in for a hug.

"You fucking idiot," I muttered.

He hugged me tight, about to say something, but Madison spoke up instead.

"Alicia's calling... Y/N, can you just– can you watch him for a sec?"

"Sure," I said, still confused with why she was panicked. "Everything okay?"

It wasn't hard to miss the deadly stare she shot her son, who looked like he had a million and one things to say.

"What's wrong?" I asked him when I saw his ghastly expression and inability to stand still.

He simply shook his head, saying nothing, but he looked anxious. Madison left two of us alone, heading into the kitchen.

"You can be such an idiot sometimes," I scolded him once she was gone. "Using again? Getting hit by a car? Are you insane, Nick?"

He wasn't listening to a word I was saying as he took a seat on the couch, knees bouncing up and down with impatience. I rolled my eyes, knowing how this would go since he hadn't listened to me for a long time now.

"...no, Alicia, don't touch him!" Madison was saying, on a phone call but loud enough for us to hear.

She returned not long later, looking stressed out and as anxious as Nick did. Was I missing something?

"What's up? Is everything okay?" I asked her supportively. "Is Alicia okay?"

She brushed her hair from her eyes. "She's with Matt. He's sick."

"Yeah, a load of people were off sick today in class," I realised, before shrugging. "Maybe there's a bug going around."

Madison wasn't satisfied with that answer though, as she went to grab her car keys. "I'm gonna pick her up. I don't want her getting sick, too."

"I can get her her if you want," I offered, but she shook her head and glanced at Nick, who was sweating profusely.

"No. You stay with Nick. I won't be long."

Not really getting much of a choice, I nodded and watched her leave. Nick didn't reveal much, even when Madison left, but he seemed troubled by something and no amount of coaxing from me would help. He was suffering from withdrawals, just over twenty-four hours passing since he'd taken anything, and the symptoms were making themselves known.

After what felt like forever, Madison returned with an irritated Alicia in tow. Though, as soon as she saw me with Nick, her irritation disappeared.

"He's not doing too well, Madison," I told the blonde, kneeling beside a shivering Nick.

"I'm gonna get him his prescription," Madison assured me, before looking between Alicia and I. "You girls look after him. Travis will be here soon with Liza and Chris, so keep an eye out."

Alicia and I exchanged confused looks. Why was Travis bringing his ex-wife and son back here? And what was Madison so worried about, apart from Nick?

"You're gonna make me stay here and look after this idiot when Matt needs my help?" Alicia asked her mum.

"Alicia, don't argue this," Madison said knowingly. "Stay put, okay?"

She didn't wait for a response as the door slammed behind her when she left. I sighed, using a damp cloth to cool Nick's forehead. Meanwhile, Alicia threw her backpack on the floor before looking to me.

"Can you watch him? I wanna check on Matt," she said.

"I–"

"No," Nick groaned, pushing me away as he struggled to sit up. "Mum said you have to stay."

Alicia rolled her eyes. "You've got Y/N."

"Is he okay?" I asked her, noticing her worry behind her mean girl facade.

"He's sick," she said with a frown. "Didn't show for our date in the park and that's why I went to check on him. His parents are out of town, Y/N, I can't just leave him."

The last thing I wanted to do was go against Madison's request, but I truly didn't see the harm in her checking on him.

"Okay, fine," I gave in with a nod. "Go. I'll watch Nick."

She smiled appreciatively before making her way to the door, but Nick didn't seem to like this as he forced himself to stand up.

"Alicia, no!" he shouted after her, making her roll her eyes. "You can't, Alicia, it's not safe!"

"Nick, sit down!" I shouted at him when he leaned against the couch for support. "Nick– Nick!"

I screamed his name when he fell to floor suddenly, convulsing, and Alicia was by my side in an instant, helping me help him.

Alicia and I sat on the two armchairs, exhausted and nervous as we watched Nick laying on the couch, sleeping. Madison still wasn't back with his meds and, considering we'd almost watched him choke to death on his own vomit, we were pretty impatient for her return.

"You okay?" I checked in with Alicia.

Her green eyes flickered from Nick to me. "No. You?"

I sighed, shaking my head. "You thinking about Matt?"

She nodded weakly.

"I'm sure he's fine," I tried to put her at ease. "Have you tried calling him? Maybe his parents are back."

"He won't answer," she said monotonously.

I frowned, unsure what else to recommend. Thankfully, keys were rattling at the front door and in walked Madison with Nick's meds.

"I've got it," Alicia said, grabbing the bag and attempting to wake up Nick.

"Y/N, have you checked on your mum?" Madison asked randomly.

I quirked a brow. "Er, no. Am I supposed to?"

She glanced out the window uneasily. "There's a lot going on out there. Just do it, hon."

Already knowing I'd regret it, I gave my mum a ring there and then, to which she picked up after a few rings.

"Mum? It's Y/N," I said, in case she happened to be too drunk to read her caller ID. And woo-hoo, guess who was right?

"Y/N?" she asked with confusion, before exclaiming with realisation, "Y/N! What do you want?"

Unsurprised at this point, I said, "Where are you? Are you coming home?"

She laughed, though it was hard to make out because of the sound a man talking nearby, giving me the creeps. "I'll be on my way soon. Don't wait up."

I rolled my eyes. "Right. See you later."

Once I hung up, I realised Madison was still waiting to hear an update.

"She's drunk," I told her the usual. "But she's gonna be back soon."

She nodded distractedly, before saying, "When she comes home, you need to check if she's sick. And if she is, you shouldn't touch her."

"Mum," Alicia said disapprovingly, before I could even think to speak. "Not now."

I shook my head with confusion, looking back to Madison. "What?"

"This sickness, it's spreading," she said with concern. "I don't want you getting sick, too. Just promise me you'll check, okay?"

Alicia scoffed, unimpressed at her mum's ignorance.

"I promise," I told her. "Besides, she'd have to actually make it home first..."

#alicia clark x reader #alicia clark imagine #alicia clark x you #alicia clark #alycia debnam carey #feartwd #fear the walking dead #fear the walking dead imagine

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lycangrope · 1 month ago

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wait omg can u tell me more about how the fuckable plushie and where you bought it please please please

of course! under the cut I'll include photos and explain some things about it I like about it + where to get it :) I have so many thoughts! this will be a very long post!

link (whenever I bought it the listing was ~$330, but unfortunately the price has gone up since then...although, because it's aliexpress, this product can likely be found elsewhere with the information provided in the listing.)

because I'm from the US and the toy is from overseas, it took about a month to get here if my memory is serving me correctly.

there are three appearance options on the site, a polar bear, a red panda, and the puppy in the picture here. as I can tell, there are no internal differences. the puppy's body is notably a little bit longer and is said to be heavier than the other two on the site.

the texture of the plush is fairly similar to a squishmallow (free 🇵🇸 btw), but due to the machinery inside it's EXTREMELY heavy. i have to use both hands to carry it around or move it. it's kind of an awkward shape to cuddle with in a nonsexual way, but it can be done.

the dots on the pink panel are the spots for the magnetic charger (make sure not to get that part too wet bc it will rust and not work. the "toy" part of it is much lower though, so no worries). it comes with a small remote I can't read bc it's in chinese but it's easy to figure out.

obviously there's the pause and power buttons, but the ring is where you get thrusting and vibration. top/bottom increase and decrease thrusting, and right/left control vibration. you cannot turn on vibration without turning on thrusting. no idea what the middle button is meant to do. my package included condoms you can use on it, but I prefer to just clean the toy after use.

the toy only pops out when it has battery life. when it's turned off, it retracts. it comes with a cap you can screw on when it goes down, but I found that it wouldn't fit back on so I just clean it a lot. something that confused me at first is realizing that the dick is oriented upside down? but it doesn't really matter. it's about five and a half inches long with an average circumference.

it has a few hours of continuous battery life and has given me many internal orgasms (without clitoral stimulus) when that wasn't something I was able to achieve before this toy.

I've tried a few different potions and this is how I rate them:

1) doggystyle/from the back: 5/10. i have to do an odd posture to make it go inside, but I can't cum from this because the position is so awkward. it can't go as deep as I'd like it to because my ass is too big. it works if I'm desperate for back shots, I guess

2) spooning or from the side: 6/10, similar complaints as the last, but it works slightly better. face to face from the side is a little easier because my butt isn't in the way, but it's a slightly awkward position.

3) riding: 4/10. the plush doesn't lay flat enough for it not to be awkward. it's too firm and round to lay on its back with a humans body weight on top and be comfortable.

4) missionary: 11/10. this is literally the only way you can use this thing without constantly having to adjust. It lays on your stomach and is soft and warm. it makes me cum a lot. it's attractive to look down and see it thrusting in and out of you. sometimes i'll get high and prop my phone against its nose and watch porn while it fucks me, which is absolute sensory heaven. it's so good that I don't even care that other positions don't really work for me.

i should say that im 5'6" and since this toy is likely chinese i feel like it was designed for people a little bit shorter than me because idk what to do with my legs sometimes while using it haha

my fluids don't really end up getting on the fur or anything, but to clean up the toy part I usually just take a damp paper towel and wipe it down before spraying some toy cleaner on it, letting that dry, then wiping it down again.

if you have more questions, let me know!

#objectum #plushum #plushophilia #plushophile nsft #lycangroping #just trying to use tags ppl would find relevant haha

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aztarion · 3 months ago

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Hiii omg its so good to see a fellow book of hungry names enjoyer out there.... i was wondering if u managed to get sex scenes with podge ingame? Bcuz I've seen people mention it's possible and ever since then I have been desperately trying to no avail 😩 it's cool if you didn't, just thought i'd shoot my shot (also im literally obsessed with your art its so good)

omg HIIIIII thank you 😭 i actually look cuckoo bananas in the tag but it & night road reignited my love for world of darkness so idc lmao

anyway shitty diy romance guide under the cut

including other companions bc ive seen ppl have problems hooking up with melodie too but there is/was a podge-specific bug ill get to after the general stuff. disclaimer first tho english is not my native language & i dont play on steam so cant code dive properly BUT essentially:

podge, elton & melodie’s routes require some initial investment in charisma—not a lot (2 dots is fine) but the higher ur charisma the higher the modifier will be during romance checks, which will help you pass even if your relationship score with them isnt the best/mid range 2/3 dots. in the same vein some of the convictions your character can have also act as modifiers. what ive been able to piece together is that:

melodie likes when you uphold & respect the litany/tradition & the three families, but keep humans/nomi at a distance or out of the picture entirely for their own safety

elton likes when you maintain dignity in your situations, are logical/calculative making decisions & successful in your chosen means to an end (failing rolls is swagless behavior he will judge you)

podge likes when you weaponize your Rage—not necessarily escalating everything to violence (but it is a fair bit of that lmao) but in terms of like challenging the litany/tradition/authority, protecting the weak/disadvantaged

nin likes when you remain level-headed/composed, keep an open mind, respect her as a person/don’t treat her different as a wolfborn, utilize & accept your spiritual third as garou—recognize that cultivating gaia with kindness & hope are as important as protecting her with teeth & claws

TLDR for best relationship modifiers:

Elton: 2 or more dots in Charisma, high Find Purpose Through Dignity conviction

Melodie: 2 or more dots in Charisma, high The Litany Sustains Us conviction

Podge: 2 or more dots in Charisma, high Our Weapon Is Rage conviction

Nin: 2 or more dots in Composure, high Our Answer Is Spirit conviction

so the issue with podge’s route from what i can tell was a coding error that has since been fixed by kyle, basically during the first date most people opt to kiss podge back, which obviously boosts your romance score but at that point in time it boosted it past the threshold check for the sex scene & locked you out of it for both opportunities LOL. this is no longer the case but if your game hasn’t updated since May (not on version: 52507) you will have to play hard to get with podge (dont kiss him back) or your ass is NAWT getting dicked down later. all other scenes proceeds as normal tho

hopefully this helps!! im currently (slowly) playing thru again testing more stuff so i might update this or make a more detailed cleaner post in the future ^^

#ask #book of hungry names #im gonna put it in the tag bc i know ppl on Reddit & cog forums have lost their minds #AND SORRY FOR FORMAT IM HALF ASLEEP

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renecdote · 2 years ago

Note

ren please my love will u write me "wiping their tears when they cry" for buddie mwah

Also for @abcdefuk-off who requested the same prompt. This got so much longer than planned lol but enjoy the Buck angst <3

[Read on AO3]

Those first few days after waking up, and after leaving the hospital, everything hurts. Buck gets used to a baseline of pain: headaches, muscle aches, healing burns on his hands, fractured ribs, bruised lungs, something vague and unrelenting that coils tight in his stomach. It all ebbs and flows, a tide teetering between low and high, easy enough to ignore sometimes, but never fully gone.

It gets better, as days blur into weeks. One and then two and then three, and after four he’s sitting in Dr Salazar’s office and she’s saying, “You can go back to work as early as next week.”

Buck doesn’t know how to explain the flash of panic that seizes him. The way he wishes she could just tell him that something is wrong, that there is some physical explanation for the way he feels. But all his other doctors say the same thing: there’s nothing wrong with him. His lungs have healed enough for him to go back to work. His hands aren’t even going to scar. There are no blood clots in his leg, no reason it should be hurting at all, except for how it will probably always hurt sometimes.

“But it’s worse,” Buck tries. “It hurts more, and more often, doesn’t that—shouldn’t it mean something is wrong?”

“You’ve been through a trauma,” is all the doctor will say, shrugging behind ultrasound and CT results that all say the same thing: he’s fine.

So why doesn’t Buck feel fine?

Why can’t he just feel fine?

****

He gets through the first shift fine. He’s exhausted at the end of it, a headache knocking behind his temples, but it’s fine. He’s fine. He lets Eddie talk him into going home with him, manages to smile through breakfast with Christopher before crashing hard on the couch, and when he wakes up a few hours later, he’s fine.

The second shift, he doesn’t go home with Eddie. Doesn’t leave the station with a headache, either, which is nice, but he’s left with something restless and itching beneath his skin that makes him want to run until he has forgotten how to breathe.

He goes home instead. Deep cleans his apartment. Heats up frozen lasagne for lunch and eats sitting on the balcony, squinting at the grey edge of the sky and wondering if it’s going to rain.

Come over for dinner? 🥺 Chimney texts around four p.m., and Buck spends several minutes frowning at the message before he sends back a question mark. Chimney sends back a block of the same emoji in response and refuses to elaborate.

Fine, Buck replies. But just for the record I’m sick of eating pot roast.

He’s half expecting it anyway; Maddie isn’t a bad cook, but her repertoire is a bit limited, and Chimney’s even more so. When he arrives at six-thirty on the dot, he’s pleasantly surprised, and then a little suspicious, to find them setting out containers of Thai from one of Buck’s favourite takeout places.

“This isn’t another intervention, is it?” he asks, and he tries to make it sound like a joke, but he’s pretty sure he doesn’t succeed.

“Should it be?” Maddie asks, eyebrows raised.

“No,” Buck answers, matching her raised eyebrows with his own narrowed eyes. “I thought we agreed you couldn’t fix me.”

Chimney fumbles a grease-stained paper bag and two spring rolls make a bid for freedom, rolling across the counter. He snatches them quickly, muttering hot hot hot under his breath as he drops them onto a plate. He doesn’t say, “ah, so there is something that needs fixing,” but he may as well have. Buck steals a spring roll and bites down on it hard, chewing and swallowing even as his eyes water at the burn of too-hot pastry and filling.

Maddie rolls her eyes. “Sometimes dinner is just dinner, Evan. Why don’t you help Chimney set the table? I’m going to get Jee washed up to eat.”

Just dinner would be sitting in his apartment alone with whatever leftovers he dug out of the freezer, but Buck doesn’t argue. He takes the handful of cutlery Chimney offers him and sets it out on the table, Maddie and Chimney side-by-side, Buck opposite them both, plastic cutlery arranged carefully on Jee’s high chair at the head of the table. It’s hard to feel anything but warm inside when handling toddler cutlery, which was probably Maddie’s goal all along.

It spreads through him while they eat: warmth soaking into aching muscles, loosening the tension in his spine, helping him breathe a little bit easier. They don’t ask him if he’s okay and at some point he stops expecting them to. It’s like the moment after a jump scare in a movie, when all the tension that has been building snaps, the door pushed open to reveal a cat or a squawking bird where you expected to find a killer, adrenaline draining away to leave you loose and giggly. Buck stretches out his legs under the table and he can almost trick himself into believing that the twinge of pain is just in his head.

After dinner is over—plates and cutlery packed into the dishwasher, leftover Thai in the fridge—he helps Maddie give Jee a bath and put her to bed. It’s good. Normal. From the moment the tap turns on until Jee’s bedroom light is turned off, he feels like he can breathe. Like he might be okay.

Which. That was probably Maddie’s goal all along.

“You can stay,” Chimney offers when they’re back out in the kitchen. “The guest room has a proper bed and everything now.”

Buck smiles, appreciating the offer. “Nah, I should get home. Thanks though. For dinner and…”

A gesture, vague and all-encompassing. Chimney shrugs it away.

“Anytime,” he says, and Buck knows he means it. He could show up here at three in the morning and he wouldn’t be turned away. “See you at work tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Buck agrees. “See you at work.”

Maddie follows him to the door and hugs him tightly before he steps outside.

“Drive safe,” she says against his shoulder, words cast like a spell. “Text me when you get home.”

It’s the kind of thing she has said to Buck all his life. He used to roll his eyes good naturedly, grumble through a yeah, okay , and he’d still speed through yellow lights but he’d always feel a little more guilty about it with Maddie’s words in the back of his mind.

Tonight he just squeezes her again and promises, “I will.”

He slows down for every yellow light on the way home.

****

It’s not so bad at first: a dull ache, deep enough in his leg that he can almost ignore it. He’s getting pretty good at that, with the way it feels like the pain is always there these days, lurking, waiting to pounce. Buck avoids looking at it head-on for as long as he can, like it’s a monster in the dark that he can keep away by pulling a blanket over his head.

So it doesn’t sneak up on him, really, but it still takes his breath away when the pain corkscrews through his leg, suddenly sharp and biting. Buck stumbles, catching himself on the engine, choking back a curse that becomes a strangled wheeze. His first thought— fuck, ow ow ow —is followed quickly by a second: thank god everyone else is already in the engine .

“Buck?” Bobby calls, head sticking out through the front window. “You coming?”

Buck gives him a thumbs up, words trapped behind tightly clenched teeth. Climbing into the engine is hell, his leg pulsing with every step up, and he curls his hands into fists to hide the way they’re shaking after this seatbelt has been clipped into place. It was a long call, the kind that leaves everyone tired and not in the mood to talk, and Buck is absurdly grateful for it because it means nobody is paying too much attention to him. Nobody sees the wince he can’t hide when the truck jolts over a pothole, or the way he has to brace himself before jumping out when they’re back at the station.

There’s a bottle of Tylenol that lives in his work bag and he goes straight for it after he gets his turnout gear off. Everyone else has already drifted towards the bunks, but Buck tries not to limp as he walks up the stairs anyway. It feels too much like giving in. Like letting his leg and that bomber kid and the whole fucking universe win.

He tries to pace, tries to shake the cramp out by moving, but every step is like a knife through his ankle, his knee, shooting up through his hip to grip his chest in a vice as well. Buck makes it three limping circuits around the loft before he gives up and collapses on the couch. He folds over, head against his right knee, left leg stretched out while he digs his fingers into the long-healed muscles and wishes the pain would go away.

A stress headache is setting in now too, the kind that feels like his head is in a vice, the pain squeezing and squeezing and squeezing. Buck takes a shaky breath, then another, then another, trying to figure out whether he feels sick, or if it’s just the same coiling tension in his stomach that he’s been dealing with for weeks.

“Hey.”

He flinches, startled, and Eddie moves closer with a frown.

“Buck? You okay?” he asks, sounding like he’s already halfway convinced that he answer is no . Which it is, but.

Buck swallows. “Yeah, just—my leg. ‘M okay.”

Eddie hums, an I’ll be the judge of that kind of sound, and he perches on the edge of the coffee table, so close that their legs have no choice but to touch. “Can I…?”

There’s a half-hysterical thought in the back of Buck’s head that his leg will fall apart if he lets it go. The pain will tear through flesh and bones and leave nothing but broken, jagged pieces behind. Blood and sinew and useless muscle hanging off splintered pieces of bone. The thought of it makes him sick and he has to swallow hard against the nausea before he can make his fingers loosen their hold. It gets him a smile, quick and gentle, like Eddie knows the mental battle it took.

“Okay,” he says, easy and soft. “Do you want to lie down?”

Buck shakes his head. Even if he’s lying on his back, even if it’s the couch in the station instead of the rough asphalt of the street, his edges are too frayed right now for it to feel like anything other than being back there under the truck. He stretches his leg out in front of him instead, hands curled into tight fists while Eddie does his exam, quick but thorough.

“I don’t see anything concerning,” he judges, and Buck shouldn’t mourn the touch of his hands but he does. “No redness or swelling… is it just the pain?”

“Yeah,” Buck manages, too shaky. He doesn’t need to explain because Eddie knows more than most what it’s like when an injury heals but doesn’t ever fully let you go.

“Alright.” Hand on his knee for a second, two seconds, warmth lingering even after it’s gone. “Heat or ice?”

Buck shakes his head because—he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know if anything will help.

“Okay,” Eddie takes his non-answer in stride, “we’ll try heat first, then switch if it isn’t working.”

It doesn’t take long to grab a couple of heating pads from the first aid cupboard, nor to pull the coffee table a bit closer so Buck can put his feet up on it without having to stretch. Hen would smack him if she saw him doing it, but he’s pretty sure Eddie would defend him. His only other option is stretching out on the couch and—no. Not tonight.

“Here, drink this,” holding out a glass until Buck takes it. “It’ll help.”

It’s only half full, which is good because Buck’s hands shake when he holds it. He still feels vaguely sick, but he chokes down a few sips anyway, clinging to the way Eddie smiles at him when he does.

“Better?” he checks, adjusting one of the heating pads that had started to slip off Buck’s knee.

Buck wants to say yes. He wants to say yeah, all good now, thanks for your help but you don’t need to stay . He wants to rewind time and never get in the front seat of the truck. He wants to rewind time and wait just a few minutes before climbing up that ladder so the lightning doesn’t hit him. He wants and wants and wants. He’s spent his whole life wanting—his parents to love him, somewhere to belong, to be useful and good and happy —and even now that he has so much, he still fucking wants.

Buck bites his lip through the sting of frustrated tears, determined not to cry.

“It’s been, um, worse. Lately. Since the lightning strike.”

Eddie frowns. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Buck shrugs, as if he doesn’t know the answer. As if the words aren’t right there on the tip of his tongue: I didn’t want anyone to worry .

“No,” Eddie says, gentle and a little bit—sad, almost, but trying not to be. It’s like he can read the words spinning through Buck’s mind. “Why didn’t you say anything to me?”

Because Eddie isn’t anyone . He hasn’t been for a long time. Buck rubs a hand over his face, then picks at a loose thread on his knee, avoiding Eddie’s eyes.

“Are you going to tell Bobby?” he asks.

“You don’t want me to,” Eddie says, not a question. Buck shakes his head anyway. “Because you don’t want him to worry? Or because you don’t want to be benched for the rest of shift?”

The simple answer is both . That’s the answer Buck is supposed to give. It’s what Eddie is expecting to hear. But the truth is that Buck died, and nobody will let him forget it, and he still doesn’t know how he really feels about it.

That coil in his stomach tightens, dread clogging his veins. A traitorous, frustrated tear slips out and Buck squeezes his eyes shut. He makes a belated movement to wipe it away, but Eddie’s hand is already there, the curl of his fingers warm under Buck’s chin and his thumb warmer still as it swipes gently across his cheek. It’s that, Buck thinks, more than the pain and the frustration, that makes the next two tears slip out.

“I won’t tell Bobby,” Eddie promises him, the absence of his touch burning like frostbite when he pulls his hands away. “But I’m going on record saying that I think you should.”

“I can still do my job,” Buck mutters, sinking into his corner of the couch. It’s the easiest excuse to hide behind. It’s even mostly true: he can do his job, even if adrenaline and determination are the only things that get him through.

Eddie rolls his eyes. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

Buck wilts. He does know. And he doesn’t want to argue with Eddie. It’s always so much easier to be angry, to burn hot and fast and deal with the fallout later, but whenever he reaches for the flames these days, whenever he thinks it’s not fucking fair , all he feels is tired. Bone deep, achingly tired.

You’ve been through a trauma , people keep telling him, but Buck has been through traumas before and they’ve never left him feeling quite like this.

“Fine,” he sighs. “I’ll tell Bobby if it becomes a problem.”

If it comes down to other people’s lives, he would have done it anyway. He’s not stupid; he’s not going to risk anyone else.

Eddie nods, satisfied. He takes the glass of water from Buck’s hands and sets it on the coffee table, out of the way, then settles into the couch at his side. There’s enough space that they don’t need to be touching, but they end up pressed together from thigh to shoulder anyway.

“Do you think you can sleep?” Eddie asks.

Buck shrugs, but he’s pretty sure the answer is no. He’s pretty sure that Eddie knows it too.

“Alright,” he says, reaching for the remote. “But it’s my turn to pick what we watch.”

It’s not, but Buck doesn’t fight him on it. He doesn’t care what they watch, doesn’t think he could focus on it right now anyway. He closes his eyes, letting the sound of some late-night soap rerun fade into background noise, and waits for the pain to fade with it.

****

Buck doesn’t sleep, but he drifts, sinking down to something close enough to sleep that it can almost be called rest. His leg doesn’t hurt as much anymore, the weight of the heating pads over his knee and ankle as much of a relief as the heat itself. He’s not sure what time it is when footsteps on the stairs make him tense, threatening to undo all the hard work that Eddie and the heating pad have done to relax his muscles. The only thing that keeps him still is the hand Eddie puts on his thigh, warm and grounding. He squeezes gently— relax, you’re okay, I’ve got you —then stands up, meeting Bobby in the kitchen with an easy, “Hey, Cap, you want some coffee?”

Buck relaxes, listening to the familiar sound of people moving around the station kitchen: mugs clinking, the coffee machine gurgling, the slightest squeak of boots on the floor as Bobby and Eddie move around each other. It’s so familiar and soothing that he’s almost back in that state of not-quite-resting, drifting through the currents at the edge of the room, when he hears Bobby ask, “He okay?”

It’s right there in his voice: worry worry worry . Buck bites the inside of his cheek hard enough that he tastes blood, sudden and metallic. It stops his heart in his chest for a beat, two beats, and he has to breathe carefully through the swell of memory and nausea until the taste of blood and bile have both been swallowed down.

“Yeah,” Eddie is answering behind him, and that helps too, “just a leg cramp, he’s okay.”

Buck doesn’t get to find out what Bobby’s response to that is—the alarm rings and he’s on his feet before it’s a conscious thought. Before he stops, one hand on the bannister going down the stairs, and wonders whether he should actually stay behind. Whether Bobby will make him stay behind.

He hesitates too long. Long enough that everyone else is already climbing into the truck and Bobby is looking back at him from the app bay, eyebrows raised.

“You coming, kid?”

Buck shakes himself and follows. He can still do his job.

****

The fire burns hot and fast, two townhouses already alight when they join the 122 on scene, a third just starting to go up as well.

“Shit,” Chimney mutters, and Buck feels it in his bones: people are going to die tonight. People are probably already dead, just waiting for someone to pull their bodies out.

“Buck—” Eddie starts, low and close, fingers twisted in his sleeve, and Buck doesn’t know what he’s going to say but—

“Not now,” he says, shaking Eddie off.

Eddie lets him go.

Buck tells himself that he’s grateful for it, even as his leg throbs in protest. He’s fine, he reminds himself. He’s fine, he can still do his job.

And he does. He lets the smoke and the flames numb him, sinking into the routine: check room after room after room, pull out body after body after body. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Don’t think.

He’s limping by the time they clear the buildings. The pain isn’t as bad as it was before, but it’s deep and persistent, the kind of always there pain he got used to feeling in the weeks after the ladder truck crushed him. Buck sees a life stretching out before him where it never goes away: he’ll wake up hurting every morning, go to sleep hurting every night, probably have to quit his job because he’s always, always hurting.

He feels sick. Thinks he might actually be sick, stuck on a roller coaster he doesn’t know how to get off, and he leans shakily against the engine, pressing his forehead against the cool metal while he tries to breathe the feeling away.

Bobby finds him there.

Of course Bobby finds him there.

“Here,” he says, and his hand is a steady pressure between Buck’s shoulder blades until he turns his head, blinking past the red of the engine to find a water bottle being held out. Bobby shakes it a little when Buck doesn’t immediately reach to take it. “Come on, Buck, you know the drill.”

Buck wonders which drill that is. The stay hydrated when fighting fires one, or the don’t disobey orders one, or maybe the let people take care of you one. It doesn’t really matter, he supposes, the answer is all the same. He grabs the water bottle from Bobby’s hand. Fumbles it open and takes a few sips.

“Sit,” Bobby suggests, hand still on Buck’s back, gently guiding him the few limping steps until he can sit on the front of the engine. The scene is still bustling around them, firefighters moving like moths around the flames, but Bobby seems content just to stand beside Buck, watching silently.

Buck lasts five minutes before he breaks.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” he asks, exhausted down his marrow.

“About your leg?” Bobby doesn’t pretend not to know what he’s talking about and Buck is grateful for it. “I figured you’d come to me if something needed saying.”

Buck swallows.

Swallows again.

He’s pretty sure they’ve reached the point where something needs saying, but he has no idea where to start. I’m sorry , maybe. I swear the doctor cleared me , probably. The words all feel frothy on his tongue, taking up more room than they should, and he opens his mouth without really knowing which ones he’s going to say and—

“I’m scared.”

It’s a whisper. A confession meant for the dark safety of night, spilled out here in the burning daylight of a new day like oil on the road. The sun glints off it like a beacon: here! look, beware, there is danger here! Buck wants to scoop the words back up, shove them deep inside his chest, lock them up where he’s the only one who might choke on them. He wants to find a smile, or a joke, anything that he can tape over the moment to wipe the look of quiet concern off Bobby’s face. He wants to pretend that he’s fine because maybe if he pretends hard enough it will become true.

“I don’t even know why I’m scared,” he finds himself confessing anyway. “I don’t know why my leg hurts, or how to make it stop, or—”

or if I’ll ever feel normal again

There’s a flash of memory—Eddie crying at the dining table, Eddie’s room destroyed, Eddie’s door locked, Eddie dying in the street—so sudden and visceral that Buck flinches away from it. His breath stutters, and his leg throbs sharply, and it’s all so much that he almost flinches when Bobby puts a hand on his shoulder as well.

“I’m not going to pretend that I have all the answers,” Bobby says, as warm and steady as his hand. His lips twist into something wry for a second as he adds, “Or any of them.” Buck doesn’t smile, even though he thinks he’s supposed to. “But I’m always here if you want to talk, or even if you don’t.”

Bobby breakfasts . It’s not a secret at the firehouse, but it’s always talked about in low tones, the same way you’d whisper about something sacred. They’ve all had one at some point: a quiet invitation at the end of a hard shift, “we don’t have to talk if you don’t want to,” then the comforting bustle of a café with good coffee and eggs cooked any way you want them. Buck remembers sitting in that café three days after Eddie got shot, the taste of blood still in his mouth and his stomach too messed up to even think about eating, sipping camomile tea while Bobby ate a bagel and did the crossword in an honest to god newspaper beside him.

He remembers wondering where the newspaper even came from. Remembers the flash of fear at the realisation that he’d lost time somewhere between the firehouse and the café. Remembers his hands shaking around his teacup, china rattling as he set it back in the saucer, and Bobby’s knees bumping against his even though the table was big enough that they shouldn’t have.

He remembers that it helped, even if he didn’t really know it at the time.

“Captain Nash!” someone calls, and it’s like a bucket of ice water over Buck’s head.

Bobby glances behind him, towards the IC who called his name, then back at Buck, his reluctance clear on his face.

“Go,” Buck tells him, hugging himself. “I’m okay.”

Bobby still hesitates, long enough that the IC calls his name again, and Buck tries for a smile that is probably more like a grimace by the time it reaches his lips. It gets Bobby moving though. Gets him to nod, once, and squeeze Buck’s shoulder again before he turns with a parting, “I’ll send Eddie over.”

Buck opens his mouth, halfway to a protest, but Bobby is already striding away. He should be annoyed, he thinks; he doesn’t need a babysitter. But instead he’s just kind of grateful as he sinks back against the engine, knowing he won’t be alone for long.

****

The shift is over by the time they get back to the station, but Buck still finds Bobby in his office. The door is open, but he knocks anyway, leaning heavily against the doorframe because he thinks his leg might collapse under him if he has to take one more step.

“I can’t,” he says, when Bobby looks up at him. “Talk about it. Not yet.”

Not with Bobby, at least. Not until he can find a way to say I’m not okay without also saying you died, you know? in my coma dream, you died because I wasn’t there to help save you, and I don’t know what to do with that because sometimes I feel like I can save everyone except myself .

“Okay,” Bobby says easily. “Would you like to have breakfast anyway? We don’t have to talk.”

Buck smiles, tired but real. “I appreciate the offer, Cap, but—maybe a rain check?”

Bobby’s face is a silent ah . “You’re going home with Eddie.”

It’s not a question. Buck nods anyway. If he turned his head just slightly, he’d be able to see Eddie hovering by the engine, both their bags slung over his shoulder, waiting for Buck to be ready to go. Waiting to jump in if he’s needed too, knowing Eddie.

“Good,” Bobby smiles, and Buck knows it means he’ll take care of you . “If you need anything, let me know.”

“I will.”

Bobby nods, satisfied, then looks back down at his paperwork. “I’ll see you next shift, Buck.”

Buck bites the inside of his cheek so he doesn’t do something embarrassing like burst into tears. He has to breathe through the sudden lump in his throat a couple of times before he can say, “Thanks, Cap. See you next shift.”

He turns carefully, weight balanced on his good leg, and limps out towards the parking lot. It only takes a few seconds for Eddie to fall into step beside him, their shoulders bumping gently.

“Okay?” he checks, brown eyes warm and serious on Buck’s face.

Buck smiles; still tired, still pained, but still real.

“Yeah,” he answers. “All good.”

And it’s not really. Not fully. But—

“It will be,” Eddie agrees, smiling back.

It will be .

Yeah.

Yeah, Buck thinks, he’s gonna be okay. His family will make sure of it.

#Evan Buckley #Eddie Diaz #Maddie Buckley #Chimney Han #Bobby Nash #911 Fox #fic #post lightning buck is something that can be so personal

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cielwritings · 7 months ago

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I loved what you wrote!!!

I dunno if you have limits (if so I apologize for popping up the same day), but can I maybe possibly ask for something of the same ship (maybe with Alois I dunno if you write him or not) with the prompt of the Servants are confused seeing them come to the manor separately and wonder if Ciel is finally getting friends, but one morning after they stayed the night in secret ( 😏🤭 ) and they try to sneak out and Sebastian catches them in the hall, cue the threes very different and very bad excuses and lies

! Ciel Sneaking in Alois, Doll, and Cole !

!!!! MY FIRST ALOIS RQ!! oh i love him my sweet boy :sobbing emoji: how i miss you dearly and wish you were canon i miss u

Recently, the servants have noticed something odd. They clean the manor from top to bottom, yet every night without fail, there's always footsteps somewhere. Baldroy had the idea of testing shoe sizes, but none of their shoes match the imprints or sizes of the footprints.

They kept silent about this, though. Mey-rin had a rough time in doing so, but they managed. They excused this as Ciel's doing. They didn't know his shoe size or the imprints of his shoes, to be fair. That was all Sebastian. And if they asked if they could see Ciel's shoes, that'd be... very inappropriate of them.

Though, they didn't like the fact the footprints would differ in size, albeit by barely.

They caught Ciel late at night, shocked to see the boy so nervous for once. "Young master?" Finnian would ask. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's the matter. Continue with your duties." he sputtered, back leaning up against his bedroom door.

Finnian didn't understand, but retreated to tell the other two. The one who connected the dots first was Baldroy, naturally. "He could be hiding someone. The footprints, his anxiety, keeping his bedroom door shut..."

"Who would it be?" Mey-rin stuttered out. "Maybe a friend he doesn't want us seeing." Baldroy responded.

And so, satisfied with the reason, they dropped it. They continued to clean whatever prints there were without question.

Though one day, Sebastian started his duties early. He washed the dishes one extra time to be sure Ciel would get the finest dishes, when he heard something.

"Shh! You can't be so loud!" Ciel whisper-yelled. Thankfully, Sebastian had the ears of a hound. "Oh come on," a familiar voice spoke. "No one will be awake at this hour."

Sebastian turned the corner to see what was going on. There, lined up from left to right, was Doll, Alois, and Cole. He would've understood why Alois was here, but at this hour? This was no business meeting.

Watching a little longer, he noticed something else. Ciel's clothes were quite messily on him. Some aspects such as his tie were alright, but his jacket was wrinkled and his shorts were inside out. How unruly for a noble.

It was clear as day something had happened. Alois had what looked to be scratch marks on the back of his neck, Cole's lips were swollen, and Doll was holding onto a wall.

How did I not notice? Sebastian thought. I must correct myself as soon as I can.

He decided that this was enough. He needed to up the security of this manor. Unless for some reason, Ciel had let the three in.

"Boys, my lord." Sebastian spoke up. "..Why are they here?"

Ciel froze, hair on the back of his neck sticking up like a frightened cat. Alois let out a soft 'huh'. "Seems your suspicions were correct, Ciel!"

Nervously, Ciel turned to face Sebastian. "...It was business." "At this hour?" "Yes." "Without me present?" "Yes."

Sebastian squints. "Then why is Doll here? She has nothing to do with business. Frankly, I thought Cole would be the last person you'd wish to see, albeit behind Alois but he is more-so forced into your business..."

Alois clicked his tongue. Doll was paralyzed in place.

"What was this 'meeting' about?"

"The queen." "School." Alois and Cole collided reasons. Ciel and Sebastian let out a collective sigh.

"..And how did you come in?" Sebastian asked. "Door." "Window." they collide once more.

Ciel, at this point, had slowly retreated. Sebastian let him.

Sebastian doesn't plan to let them go until he gets a confession, it seems..

#! suggestive #! sfw #doll #ciel phantomhive #maurice cole #ciel x maurice #ciel x doll #ciel x alois #alois trancy #kuroshitsuji #black butler

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connorswhisk · 5 months ago

Text

Loose Leaf

fic fill for @thecrusadercomrade !! thanks so much for requesting and i'm sorry it took so long fdjl;sajkl; hope u enjoy <3

also on my ao3

She probably draws him about a million times, over and over again in her tiny sketchbook with the cheap colored pencils and the slowly dulling pocket sharpener. Fighting walkers, splattering scarlet blood all across the white page. Riding a horse, with Clem on the back of the saddle right behind him, arms circled about his waist. A lot of those pages end up stuffed between the cracks of the dumpster lid (Clem’s not tall or strong enough to lift it fully on her own) because in her opinion, they’re just not so good. She doesn’t like them, and so she figures neither would Lee.

She draws him a million times. Over and over again. But he isn’t the only one to make an appearance in her little book.

– – –

The family is easy, probably the easiest thing there is to draw in the whole motor inn. Clementine’s had lots of practice drawing families, for school art projects and things like that, but it’s easier to draw people she knows are alive instead of the parents she doesn’t.

Kenny with his mustache and his hat, Katjaa with blonde hair that’s a little too bright because the only shade of yellow Clem has is lemon. And in between them, shorter than either but smiling bigger than both, is Duck. Clem has lots of fun dotting in the freckles all over his round, happy face; she thinks the stick-figure version of him looks very accurate.

(She considers adding a bunch of creepy-crawly spiders in the blank space beneath Duck’s feet, but ends up deciding that might be a little too mean.)

She gifts it to them, eager and proud at breakfast one morning. Kenny and Katjaa aren’t actually eating, Clem notices. Kenny eyes the granola bar his son is pigging out on with a pained expression on his face; Clementine quietly tucks her snack pack into her pocket, and though her stomach whimpers in protest, she resolves to eat it after. She can wait, just a little while longer.

Kenny looks at her like he has no idea what she’s talking about when she holds the page out in her tiny hand. “It’s like a family photo of you guys,” says Clem, slightly anxious. “Well, kind of…”

Kenny still says nothing. Clem tries not to take it personally - Lee doesn’t have to tell her so in hushed whispers just between the two of them, she knows Kenny’s been itching to leave the motel and the food situation definitely isn’t helping matters. Katjaa smiles, tired but kind, and carefully takes the drawing from her before the silence stretches out too long.

“Why, it’s lovely,” she says softly, angling it just so that Duck can see. “Look, Ducky, Clementine drew all three of us.”

Duck frowns. “Why did you make me have chicken pox? ”

“That’s not chicken pox,” Clem giggles. “Those are your freckles. ”

“Oh!” His teeth are crowded with leftover granola bits as he beams, big and wide and white. “Awesome!”

“Yes, it’s very nice.” Katjaa smiles again at her. “We’ll be sure to tack it up in the RV, right on the wall where everyone can see it. Right, Ken?”

Kenny sighs, distracted. “Yeah, yeah, that’s - that’s fine, honey.” He glances down at the paper for just a second, and his mouth twitches a little. “My mustache ain’t that big.”

“I wanna draw!” Duck exclaims, leaping to his feet. “Clem, can I borrow some paper and your pencils?”

“Ok,” Clem replies. “But you have to promise not to be too rough with them, or else they’ll break.”

“I promise!”

“You two stay in sight!” Katjaa calls after them as Duck dashes away, Clem fast in tow. It doesn’t look like it’ll rain, so maybe she’ll get out the chalk, too. Duck always likes playing with the chalk, or at least for as long as he likes playing with anything before he gets distracted again.

Once Kenny’s and Katjaa’s backs are turned once more, Clementine pulls the snack pack out of her pocket. She’s so hungry that the stale breadsticks and fake cheese are gone in mere seconds, and even then her tummy still growls, pathetic. Duck looks like he wants to ask her for a bite. She doesn’t offer any, and s he feels terrible about that but she’s pretty sure not eating would only make her feel worse.

(Years later and she still has it, even after all of them are gone.)

– – –

Doug’s always been nice to Clementine, and she’s glad Lee saved him. Carley was kind too, and pretty, but…Lee made a choice, which is something you have to do sometimes, she knows that now. Even if the choice isn’t exactly a fair one.

(She wonders what she would have done in the same situation, forced to pick between two strangers. She never can seem to come to any sort of conclusion.)

But Doug doesn’t treat Clem like she’s a silly little girl, not in the way some of the others do. He talks to her like she’s just another adult, and Clem likes that because if she can pretend that she is just another adult, maybe things won’t seem as scary as they really are, not anymore. Doug shows Clementine how the bell system he rigged works to warn them of movement nearby, and the faded old Uno pack he sometimes breaks out has seen Clem her fair share of sneaky, smirking wins against a befuddled Lee and a frustrated Kenny.

So Doug is another person that is very easy for her to draw. That yellow shade is still a little too lemon-y, but Clem adds some brown, blends it in a bit against the page the best she can, and maybe this time it looks a little closer to his actual hair color. She makes the big green sweater extra fuzzy (fuzzier than it is in real life) and adds a teeny laser pointer in Doug’s hand, shining its red beam directly into the eyes of an oncoming walker and blinding it.

Doug smiles when she gives it to him. “Wow,” he says. “I look badass.”

“Swear,” admonishes Clem.

Doug raises his eyebrows. “Does ass really count as a curse word?” The grin doesn’t leave his face. “This is super awesome, Clementine. Thank you.”

She nods. “I just thought…I just thought you might wanna keep it.”

Carefully, Doug folds the drawing in half, then into quarters, and finally into neat, creased eighths. “Knew I still carried this around for a reason,” he says, drawing his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans and sliding the page inside it. “See, there you are. Now I’ll have it wherever I go.”

Clementine beams. “I like that,” she tells him, rocking back and forth happily on her heels.

(It’s still in his wallet, as far as she knows, the night that he dies. They leave his body on the side of the road, and they leave the drawing with him.)

– – –

Larry doesn’t like Lee, and he doesn’t like Kenny, or Duck, or…much of anyone, really. But he usually isn’t as cranky to Clem as he is with the others, and though she doesn’t know why, it’s enough to inspire her to give him a drawing.

He folds it, just like Doug did, tucking it into the breast pocket of his sweat-stained bowler shirt. “Reminds me of the ones my daughter used to make in school.” His voice isn’t hard, but it is still very gruff.

Above them, Lilly scoffs, adjusting her position on top of the camper van. “You never held on to those,” she accuses. “Why start now?”

“Times change,” says Larry offhandedly. “People change, ain’t you know that, girl?”

“Well,” Clem says, slow and unsure. “Well, I hope that you like it…”

“He loves it.” Lilly’s teeth are gritted hard enough to crack. “Don’t you worry about that, Clementine.”

Clem scurries away before their voices get too loud for her again. She doesn’t draw Larry anymore after that - it doesn’t feel right to.

(She sneaks it out of his pocket when Lee isn’t looking, after…after Kenny drops the salt lick. The paper is weathered and torn between her fingers and she pushes it to Lilly with shaking hands before she can think any more about it.

Lilly glares at her hard like she’s just sprouted some freakish second head, and Clementine lets go of the paper quick as a flash, sobs and runs back over to Lee.)

– – –

It feels more than a little obvious to draw Ben. He’s all alone, and scared, and no one at the inn fully trusts him yet. Lee warns Clem to stay frosty around him, just in case. But all Clementine sees is a boy, and even though he’s a lot bigger than Duck or her, he’s still very, very afraid.

She doesn’t really know how she should do it. Drawing him with his friends who died seems cruel, and she doesn’t know enough about Ben to know what he likes to do, or what he used to like to do.

So she draws him in a big field, sitting under an apple tree, a shiny red delicious in his hand. Clem’s parents once would take her to a field just like that, on the way to Grandpa’s house through all the Georgia farmland. Everybody’s different, but she figures that Ben might find that sort of memory pretty and peaceful, too.

“You’re…Clementine, right?” he asks her unsurely as she approaches him at his spot up against the motel’s grubby brick walls. The grave Lee and Kenny dug for his coach is still fresh and loamy with loose, dark earth.

She nods. “I made this for you,” she says, thrusting the paper forward and into Ben’s hands. “It’s ok if you don’t like it, I won’t get mad.”

He sort of blinks at the drawing, like he isn’t super sure what it is he’s looking at. “Is this…me?”

Clem frowns. She thought that that was obvious. “Uh-huh.”

“Oh.” Ben looks up at her, then back down at the page, then at her again. “Um…thanks. It’s really - good. It’s really good.”

“I said I wouldn’t get mad.” She sticks her hand back out, expectantly. “Give it back if you don’t want it.”

“I - I want it!” Ben’s voice cracks. “I do want it, it’s really good. Thank you, Clementine.”

She nods again. “If you ever wanna draw with me and Duck, I still have a lot of paper left.”

“I don’t know…” Ben chews his lip, like he thinks he’d look stupid for hanging around the little kids. “I’ve never been that great at art.”

“Duck’s awful,” reports Clementine happily. “No one will care!”

Ben’s lips wiggle a little like he wants to smile. “Really?”

“Really,” she says.

And no one does.

(Clem doesn’t know what happened to Ben’s drawing in the end. Maybe she doesn’t want to.)

– – –

“I like to draw everyone.” She adds a finishing touch to her figure’s glasses, before presenting the end product with a slight flourish. “See, that’s you!”

“Hey, it is.” Mark grins. He hasn’t been here long, but he’s funny, and any new face is an excuse to use something new to sketch. “Were you in art class at school or something?”

“Yeah,” Clem chirps, flipping to the next available page in her book for a blank slate. “It was a lot of fun. I liked to paint a lot, but I don’t have any paint right now. So I use my pencils and sometimes the sidewalk chalk.”

Mark’s dirty fingernails tap-tap-tap on top of the wooden picnic table. “I used to take art classes too,” he says, and his voice sounds kinda sad. “Before I joined the Air Force…”

“They didn’t let you draw in the planes?” asks Clem, choosing from her pencils a bright red, her most sickly green. “I rode a plane once. It was long. I drew everything I saw outside the window to pass the time.”

Mark shakes his head, laughing a little. “If I wasn’t flying the plane, I was busy doin’ somethin’ else with it. Didn’t really have a whole lotta time for hobbies.”

“That’s lame.” Clem looks up at him. “You should draw more now. Since you have the time.”

“I - I guess that’s true, isn’t it?” Mark shrugs, and glances back down at the tabletop. “Whoa. Whatcha makin’ now?”

Clementine doesn’t stop what she’s doing. She presses down harder with her muddy brown, dirt and death and decay.

“A walker,” she answers, and when she’s done with it Mark is gone and his picture is left behind, fluttering in the breeze.

Clem stuffs it back into the binding of her sketchbook. Even if he doesn’t want it, she’ll keep it around. She likes the way she shaded in the darkness of his leather jacket, the little shines on the lenses of his glasses.

(Mark pretty much avoids her completely after that. Clementine wonders if he’s drawing on his own, the things he always wanted to. She decides that maybe she doesn’t quite care, and she feels horrible after the farm.)

– – –

Her mom and dad. Sandra. Carley, Glenn, Shawn and Hershel, her friends at school, her Grandpa, her little cousins, her teachers, Mrs. Earnshaw from across the road, Sailor Moon and She-Ra and Bugs Bunny and other cartoon heroes to help come and save the day.

These are the things she draws in between, and she has no one to share them with.

– – –

She actually never gives Lilly one, though she draws her many, many times. She’s a little too scared, a little too chicken-shit (as Duck likes to say) to actually go through with it. Lilly hadn’t been happy when Clem had given a drawing to Larry and so it doesn’t seem likely she’d want one of her own.

But she’s scary, and sharp, and Clementine draws her a lot. Filling in and out of the margins of her notebook, angry and shouting and mean. A few times, she leaves her book face-open on top of the picnic tables, in the hopes that Lilly might wander by, take a curious peek and see herself reflected back in all the pages.

She never does wander by, so eventually, Clem stops trying it, and that’s all there is to that.

(Years later, Clementine stares a woman she once thought she knew hard in the eyes and imagines taking a match to those drawings, each and every one at a slow and burning time.)

– – –

He isn’t the only one to make an appearance in her little book. But in the end, the one she draws the most is still and always Lee.

#my writing #twdg #twdg fanfic #twdg clementine

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tradetobest · 10 months ago

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do u still think abt the golf au bc i would pay billions for you to infodump about it…

YEs i love thinking about this au so much thank you so much for asking me about it anon ilysm....

(under the cut bcs it feels a bit long to me)

this was my first act as a hockey fan it has such a special place in my heart.... i thought about it while i was in class and sorted everyone into categories Definitively. thank you for making me do this. of course some of the things i have these guys do you Shouldnt Do on a golf course, and like this is Super unrealistic but i love having my fun ok…. just Good Vibes… (also, im generalizing “clubhouse” as both people who work as servers at the course’s restaurant and the people who help golfers with carts/clubs/etc and all that. i did Not work there At All so it just makes it easier for me to loop them…. imagine they just like rotate around or something….)

OK… so…. starting with the two who started it all, mitch and auston.

i dont ever think i ever totally explained what mitch and auston's roles were besides surface level stuff so!! mitch is a member of the turf team at the golf course, which are basically the group of people who go around and cut the grass and do the landscaping and all of that. like ice crew, but just for the golf course.

auston is like. i don't know. some sort of moderately rich guy. maybe he's Auston Matthews or maybe he's just rich, i have no clue. all that matters is he golfs. maybe he's a professional golfer. of course, i imagine everything in this au as happening at my course, but tbh it works at any course...

(now, of course, one of mitch's friends works at the clubhouse, and tells mitch every time auston is sitting there looking for him... willy nylander youre a real one)

just imagine mitch driving around a work truck with a rake, a bucket of sand, and a leaf blower in the back and auston (dressed prim, and proper, white pants white shoes white hat purple shirt all nice) literally falling all over himself to talk to him. loitering all over just Hoping that Maybe mitch will drive by and he can rope him into conversation. meanwhile when mitch sees willy he’s like “yeah auston’s so cute but like idk if he’d ever go for me” and willy is like “yeah you have no fucking idea”

i used to have to do this task which was just. watering all of the flowers near the clubhouse and i can imagine mitch doing that and like surroptitiously glancing over his shoulder to check if auston is around or watching or something… just some good old fluffy pining yk…

i have a like Whole Ass procreate file w everyone sorted into lil groups so here’s some little tidbits …

i think i mightve talked abt this in another post but sid (crosby) and claude (giroux) both work for turf and are both Incredibly Competitive about it in the most insane way ever… im talking “you take half the course i take half the course and we see who finishes faster” (starting at 6am ish) mowing competitions and theyre both done at 8 on the dot…. insane people shit…. they did it with bunkers ONCE and claude tripped and fell into a bunker and broke his wrists so they do not do that anymore o7….

in honour of my boss feeling like my dad i put patty marleau and matt martin in turf…. they do rough mowing in honour of the two guys at my course who Only did rough mowing…. big ass machine

the thing to know about guys who are higher up on the turf echelon is that not only do they all know each other but they also went to school for it… turf school…. all this to say top grad of turf school Sidney Crosby got some little ducklings and thats how Connor McDavid (top turf school grad) got to this course…. we love that for him

shoutout to other guys who also have fun little romance stories but who arent mitch and auston, including but not limited to:

connor mcdavid, who keeps getting his work paused by these three golfers, which always makes him grit his teeth and smile softly at them, because Holy Shit Let Me Get Back To My Job Please. matthew tkachuk (son of Great Golfer Keith Tkachuk) seems to take joy in interrupting connor while he’s in the middle of something, jack eichel always catches him bent over and sweaty trying to shove the wheels back onto a greens mower for one of the kids, and leon draisaitl stands on the side to wait until connor’s at least done a pass to ask him something. matthew jack and leon can be seen at the clubhouse after they finish a round, head in hands, because connor is oblivious to their flirting. maybe they should try learning the names of different types of grass.

jamie drysdale (uni student staying with his grandparents over the summer) always comes to the clubhouse for breakfast with them, which absolutely delights bored server trevor zegras… too bad the summer has to end some time! lol! anyway

tyler bertuzzi (turf) seems to always have dirt under his fingernails, some mulch and woodchips stuck to his shorts, scuffs on his knees, and a dirty ass sweater on. dylan larkin (clubhouse) finds him INCREDIBLY endearing.

brady tkachuk (son of Great Golfer Keith Tkachuk) when he’s not driving his brother around so he can try and find connor (“seriously, matthew, he looks busy” “no, it’ll be fine, look—”) is smiling sweetly at the fumbling german waiter who always engages leon in rapidfire german conversation. tim, his nametag says, and brady would love to have more than a few word conversation with him. maybe he should interrupt leon’s brooding time with matthew and jack and ask him to teach him some german.

if you want to communicate with the turf team’s mechanic and don’t want to be asked “where sid? tell him—” you should bring sid with you to see him. however, if you do bring sid, you will have to watch him and said mechanic do Weird Flirting for a good 30 mins before your question is answered. this is outside of the Weird Flirting they do anyway, all the time. if a day goes by without sid twirling his hair kicking his feet over some shit geno said to him earlier in the day has the day really gone by?

followup turf/clubhouse Flirting (I CANT BELIEVE I ALMOST FORGOT TO MENTION THEM IYKYK) tyler seguin, Pretty Boy Galore, and his loud, bubbly, and all consuming obsession with quiet doe-eyed turf worker jamie benn. now thats what i call oblivious. “yeah i flirt with jamie all the time but he just thinks its a joke haha he couldnt want me i know that like have you seen him?” “yeah tyler flirts with me but he’s just joking he doesn’t mean that he could never like me like that have you seen him?” and all that good good shit… tyler sees jamie take off his shirt once because it got soaked and loses his mind.

jack hughes (brother of turf guys luke and quinn) absolutely has the biggest crush on his coworker, fellow clubhouse worker nico hischier. once nico got wet in the rain and soaked through his white work shirt and jack almost lost his fucking mind. absolutely twirling his hair kicking his feet.

both pairs of bruins that i like (bergeron/marchand and swayman/ullmark) are fun little golf tandems. me when i get a hole in one and hug and twirl around a kiss my golf partner. what if we kissed in the front seat of a golf cart. and all that.

finally… honourable mention to john tavares (golfer, has his own labelled golf cart at a course in toronto… love that for you king….) kris letang (turf) and marc-andré fleury (clubhouse) who get to listen to sid moan and groan about geno, and self jarvis (turf) who is completely out of place among the other teams included in this au but i love him so hes here lmfaoo

anyway. yeah. i have LOTS of ideas about this au if you couldnt tell and anon i am SO happy you asked abt it… sorry it took me a few days i have to write like most days for school this semester and its leaving me Very Little time to do anything but reblog posts and draw matty and woller. MATTY AND WOLLER. oh my god i cant believe i almost forgot them uhhh…..

matthew knies and joseph woll are….. both turf workers maybe… yeah. call that lets talk while filling divots on the course or raking bunkers. what if we kissed in the rain while shovelling dirt and seed mix into small holes over and over again. Them

OK IM DONE FR NOW. thank you so much sorry there are no visuals i have written this mostly in class now but if you want to know more or if you want me to elaborate on a specific dynamic (or add some people, because god knows these are just the guys i know/like) or want visuals for anything i can 100% provide, might just take a bit again haha… ilysm anon you made my week

#asks #golf course au #im not fucking tagging everyone lmfaoo theres no way #but thank you again anon… ilysm

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stuck-in-the-ghost-zone · 5 months ago

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HIII I KNOW. A LITTLE BIT ABOUT ANNIHILATION. PERIPHERALLY. ive seen like part of it but i do NOT remember much. except that its one of the prettiest movies ive ever seen. that being said im so eyes emoji abt ur au..... r there any specific scenes frm the movie ur thinking about?? how would the character dynamics differ from either canon?? etc etc etc!!!

GOD I FUCKING LOOOOOVE ANNIHILATION. ONE OF MY TOP 5 FAVORITE MOVIES OF ALL TIME EVER. yes yes yes yes yes OK. so this is. all encompassing crossover jrwi au which means I'm pulling characters from different campaigns. which. usually im not a huge fan of but i think i pulled it off rlly well in a limited sense here bc i have very specific reasoning behind why i put each character where. u will know at least two of them and they WILL cause you psychic damage so trust me when i say the other ones will too. putting this under a cut bc im gonna ramble

BASICALLYYYYY it's gonna follow the plot of the movie pretty closely just with slightly altered character dynamics + each of their reasons for going into the shimmer. so each person on the Current Team has lost someone on a previous expedition, and basically all of them are trying to find answers for what happened to their loved ones.

im gonna talk mainly about the ones you know because youll understand where I'm coming from the best with them but just know I am OBSESSED w the roles I have put gillion and chip in here. god I miss riptide every day .

DAKOTA COLE AS ANYA. Anya is the retired paramedic !! she's the one that. hold everything. gets killed by the fucked up bear. smile. that was just a fun little coincidence for me . ORIGINALLY I was dead set on having the pd representative be william bc im biased and I love him but after rewatching the movie I just think dakota fits in anyas place so perfectly. she's the most outgoing of the group, she's the one that initially invites Lena to join their team (also side note there is a pre-existing dynamic between dakota and chip because they've had MULTIPLE interactions in various what if crossover episodes and their dynamic is one of my favorite things ever). she's also the most aggressive. she's the first one to snap into action mode after finding the body in the pool, she's the one to take josie away from it and has a very protective stance over josie for the rest of the time after that (this is going to be relevant i am gonna talk about josie next) . once the group starts arguing about whether they want to continue further into the shimmer, anya shifts into a VERY black and white mentality, pinning ventress as The Bad Guy immediately for wanting to continue. and then when Lena shows some hesitancy over what she wants to do, anya snaps into a "youre either with me or against me" mindset. she also has this growing sense of paranoia ever since they find the tape of what appears to be the previous crew killing each other, and after she learns Lena is lying to them about her connection with Kane she goes way overboard with tying them to chairs and threatening to kill them. while i don't think dakota would necessarily go that far I DID say this to jonesy when we were rewatching the movie together so. bfu connecting two dots meme

anyway i think dakota is in the shimmer looking for william AND vyncent. parallels to the "dakota leaves for 10 months without telling them" which is why the three of them would be separated in the first place. william somehow finds out about the southern reach and his draw toward a mystery is what causes him to join the first expedition. vyncent goes with him because he can sense it's dangerous (and basically a suicide mission) and doesn't want william to go alone. I have. ideas. for what happens to them in the shimmer but they are vague at best right now and even then. dakota never finds out what happens to them before he's killed by the bear. the bear uses their voices to draw him out btw. smile. he dies protecting thr rest of the group even immediately after his paranoid breakdown.

OK THAT GOT LONG. OOPS. ONTO THE SECOND ONE

SHILO AS JOSIE. ohhhhh josie radek one of my favorite characters in media of all time. God I love her so much. anyway she's the only one of the current expedition with no previous combat training, so she's often seen by the rest of them as someone who needs to be protected. if I'm remembering correctly she's also the youngest. (in this. au. dakota would be older than shilo. feels better in my mind. none of them would be Kids they'd all be adults at this point but I'd put shilo in early 20s and dakota maybe in mid 20s. so . still young.) shilo is in the shimmer looking for his twin brother who went missing. somehow he was able to track down the southern reach and find out emizel was part of a previous expedition, and desperately wants to get him back. he's the one with the LEAST amount of knowledge going into the shimmer. he doesn't realize it's a suicide mission. he just wants his brother back. anyway when they get to the first outpost they find the remnants of the first team's base of operations, with names on a guard patrol rotation and leftover weapons and. a video camera. with a tape in a plastic bag labeled "for those who follow". josie is the one holding the camera when they watch it. the tape shows members of the previous party in the abandoned pool, one guy tied to a chair while the others cut open his abdomen to show his intestines moving around like snakes or worms. in the movie, the guy who cuts him open is Kane, Lena's husband. the rest of the party doesn't know her connection to kane, and she knows now if she tells them they won't trust her (and is proven correct by this when anya eventually finds out her connection) ANYWAY I'm going off track. sorry this is my favorite scene in the whole movie I get distracted. ANYWAY so when they see this, josie is the most immediately horrified by it because she's the only one who hasn't seen anything as gruesome as that before. for shilo. well. he gets to see the one being cut open is emizel. and then later when they get to the pool and find the body still there (again. josie is the one to find this. she's also the one who reaches down into the old dirty water and accidentally picks up the knife. which was still left in the same place they saw it be dropped in the tape) corpse plastered to the wall by all kinds of multicolored fungus and lichen, I think shilo doesn't immediately break down, he doesn't really. process it right away. I mean it's completely unrecognizable. it's not until he accidentally picks up the knife that it all clicks into place in his mind and he realizes "that thing right there used to be my fucking brother" and completely shuts down. runs out of the complex, dakota has to chase him down because they all know its dangerous to go anywhere alone, etc. after this he loses any sense of purpose, the only reason he came into the shimmer in the first place was to get emizel back and now seeing what happened I think he just gets. hopeless. which is the beginning of the end for him . i haven't decided if his exact death is the same as josies but i want it to be peaceful in the same sort of way. "imagine dying frightened and in pain and having that be the only part of you which survives... i wouldnt like that at all" "ventress wants to face it.. you want to fight it... im not sure i want either of those things...." josie radek i am in love with you. anyway. annihilation pool scene for you because I love this image more than anything

#DEFINITELLYYYYY RECOMMEND WATCHING THE MOVIE AHAIN ITS SO FUCKING GOOD #i have a lot of thoughts about gillion and chips roles as well but you havent listened to riptide yet so it wont hit as hard #also the others for posterity: rand from bitb as sheppard (the first one to die) looking for rolan and kian .#and rumi from apotheosis as ventress (the leader of the party) . i have a lottttt of thoughts about rumi ventress. they mean a lot to me.#especially considering what happens to ventress at the end of the movie. mirrors rumis relationship to godhood really well i think #UGH. fucking obsessed w this au #my freak week post for tomorrow is in fact the pool scene. surprise surprise. where they find the tape #so you get. THREE images. first one is gillion with the knife #second one is emizel being cut open to Worm Guts (the prompt is weird gore. lmao)#and the third one is. shilo and chips different flavors of horrified reactions.#and bc this is an au where there are not. fish people and superpowers and vampires and such #i gave characters like gill and the twins and rumi more human/modern designs. and .#holy shit i popped off with gillions completely by accident #i just kind of. started coloring him and zoned out and then went *squidward voice* oh god hes hot !#so i think i got possessed. actually.#anyway. thank you so much for letting me ramble this has been on my mind ALL afternoon #asks #friends!!!#intertexts #jrwi annihilation

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