#this is like the longest thing Ive written ever ever ever

[grim333z]

Aurora ~

Carl x gn!reader

Word count : 8417

{this is so very towl inspired}

TW: brief mention of a suicide attempt, blood-loss, scars, usual twd gore.

Angst with an itty bitty bit of fluff

[I just kinda died for you

You just kinda stared at me

We will always have that chance

We can do this one more time]

You only had one goal at this moment in time, clearing the camp of walkers, their god awful rotting figures nearing in on the camp, nearing closer to each and every community you'd fought with everything in you to simply just keep up and running; the bridge you'd spent the past three months on a direct route to each community, oceanside, Alexandria, the kingdom, hilltop, the sanctuary. And Walkers simply couldn't be the thing to take it all out, take everything you'd fought and lost so many for.  Your heart thrums in your ears as you scramble to find something that  could help, your fingers fiddling around to find the smooth polished wood of the handle of your gun, sitting in its worn leather holster dangling from your hips; perhaps it was the sheer adrenaline running through you causing the fiddling.

The moans from the dead whom should be buried echo in the trees around you, the groaning and stumble of undead feet ringing through hardened soil. You spot a few lone stragglers far off in the distance, their rot darkened and decaying flesh blending in with the trees. It had been so long since all of it started you'd yet to grasp the reasoning behind why they're still standing, surely they'd have rotted or starved over the years, but hell you still didn't know why they even started standing in the first place. 

The smell of damp moss, soil and long-rotting flesh pierces your nose, still fumbling for some clue on how to drag yourself out of an unfortunate situation, till the faint nickering of a tied up horse rings some where in the distance. Scrambling to your feet, heaving yourself up on a log bench, stumbling towards the source of the noise. The animal could've been surrounded in the horde, part of you knew you it was more than likely a pile of half chewed flesh and organs awaiting. Still you cling to the small glimmer of hope lingering within you that the horse was still living, it was a start. 

They were called walkers for a reason, they walk. On a horse going at a steady pace you could easily lead the mass of dead somewhere far enough away to at least deal with later, with time to formulate a plan, gather the masses to assist in whatever needs to happen. You'd diverted plenty of hordes before, they had some kind of...migration pattern? seemingly surrounding the community's during early autumn and migrating off during the spring, albeit in a smaller group. Over the past few years most of the groups had grown accustomed to how the walkers behave, finding longer trips easier in winter when their movements pull to a halt each time they freeze, ending buried beneath snow and ice till they thaw in the warmth of a January sun.

The growls grow louder...like the horde is seemingly getting closer. Then you spot it, you'd taken the wrong route, having stumbled upon one of the more unsteady bridges, large metal rods poke out from where they'd warped and broken over years of unmaintained usage large chunks of brittle concrete fall into the river below. The horse lets out a sound of something that can only be described as fear, before the cold searing pain of metal violating through flesh rings through your body. No longer looking down at the pale path around you, though the sky, the warm sun beating down on your face hot against your skin, before the growling once again hits your ears. 

The cold crimson of blood graces your hands as you feel for the wound, part of you cant even fathom if its even really their, or if the heat and your lack of water is playing tricks on you. But know, the sight of your hand dripping in none other than your own blood, seeping into the cracks and valleys of your hands. Your eyes will themselves to look down, to be met with the sight of a thick jagged piece of shrapnel sticking itself out of your side, surrounded by a mass of throbbing flesh. You knew it was never a fantastic idea to pull a what you'd been stabbed with out, right now that piece of metal was keeping a fair amount of blood inside of you. Though met with a horde of nearly a thousand walkers you decide dealing with a gaping hole was an issue for later, and avoiding being eaten alive a more pressing issue at the moment. 

The rumbling of the horses hooves are long gone by now, just the hungry wines and moans of the undead, the drumming of their feet, dragging on the floor as they walk. seemingly refusing to rot. Your eyes dart around the environment, searching for something to almost hoist you from your compromised position...without causing anymore damage; the task feeling practically impossible. 

The vibration of feet against ground draws closer as the thrum of your own heartbeat raises in your ears, fingers fiddling with your belt having spot a rusty piece of metal sticking out from above you, wincing as your adrenaline fuelled movements jostle the wound awkwardly. Having paused for a breath you throw the  belt up to the jagged piece of metal, watching the worn leather loop over the top of it. 

Inhaling deeply through your nose you pull yourself up and off the metal which had violated its way through your throbbing side, the sudden movement and blood loss sending you dizzy, a sharp nausea raising in your throat as you try and pull yourself together. Swallowing down the sick feeling, unsure if its the sheer adrenaline running full force through your veins or the fact you're actively bleeding out. The sweat on your skin has suddenly grown heavy and your eyelids are all too aware of their desire to close, and your willingness to keep them open. 

Trudging along the paths in hope to make it back to the camp to at least patch yourself up. You manage to keep up a pace to go just faster than the hungry masses behind you, god knows where you're leading them, full circle would be worse than never ever starting. Though a distraction, diversion really could buy you some time to inform someone from some community that you're fucking dying surrounded by a horde.

Then you spot it, the same pale white horse you'd been perched upon before she'd decided to throw you onto a piece of sharp metal, chewing grass beside a small worn down shack, grinding each blade between her teeth like there's nothing to fear. 

You huff in relief, horses were faster than nothing. Lumbering over to the horse and pulling yourself up fighting back unconsciousness. The red stains the horses coat as you lurch forward, deciding holding yourself upright and facing the dizziness simply wasn't worth it. You feel the blood ebb from between where you'd been fighting to almost hold it inside, seeping from the shallow valleys between each finger. Your fading sideways vision of your surrounding ripples and flows in and out darkening as you feel your eyelids grow heavy. You keep telling yourself not long now... not long till what exactly? you're not sure. Death? perhaps or help? forcing yourself to simply keep going, it was the least you could put mind to doing. 

Slipping from conscious, you see the prison? far off in the distance, the group sat around a small fire in the middle of a once walker infested field, chewing on something Daryl must've caught, You're in the circle but you're not seeing through your own eyes, Beth is singing, her voice doesn't sound how you remember it though, quietened by the distance and muffled, like theres some static buzzing constantly trying to drown it out. 

Though pulling you back to consciousness is the almost sweet earthy sent of rot is never ever far behind, the groans whom fade in and out of your mind, like your ears are giving you short reminders of what needs to happen. 

and you're back again, though knees pressed into the cold sharpness of gravel as Negan sings his speech, and yet you're looking at yourself, sat along side the rest of them, his words almost echoing around you. Then there's the hard crack of wood against skull. You blink... and you're once again surrounded by masses of walking dead, hunched over on the bony back of a horse as you stain its snow white coat with a cherry wine crimson. 

Then their it is, the camp... the tents soft fabric fluttering in the wind and the sent of a long put out fire stings the air still... You hoist yourself off the horse, watching the large animal head to where it knows its meant to be. 

The ground beneath your feet feels like its moving when you know its not, the feeling of cold damp sweat forcing the fabric of your clothes to stick to your skin. Theres a strange fuzzy feeling in the ends of each limb, and a weird static feeling ringing like its near enough to be right next to you or far enough away to be humming continuously in the distance. 

Then someone calls your name, fuzzy and muffled by the sudden pounding in your head and your astute knowledge that you're in some serious shit. 

Your own head feels heavy on your neck and the blood has yet to cease its stream, pulsing from you with no intent to stop. You can't figure out who's called your name, their voice muffled and distorted by what can only be chalked up to as your blood loss. Each breath that goes in is deep and heavy but never satisfying to what you need, like you cant keep up with the pace your heart is beating at. 

Then theirs more voices, and it's unclear if its one persons words echoing in your mind or that of several peoples, hell who knows if you're even actually hearing it. The source of the voices is soon spotted to be a huddle of sort of familiar faces, on the bank across from the bridge, looking up at you, as you stumble over your own feet, staggering around like you're not far of joining the huddle of walker friends behind you. 

Shit the walkers, you huff in before willing your legs to just fucking move, letting your feet fall to their own rhythm, your lips realising fast sucked in gasps after each movement. The shuffling of uncoordinated feet and never ending snarls thrumming behind your weak frame is more than enough to push you forward. You weren't dead yet, so you had to keep going. After making it this far, death quite simply wasn't on the table for you. Taken out by walkers was not the way you planned on going out. 

The opposite side of the bridge approaches faster than you expect it to, turning to face the sea of snapping teeth and rotting limbs. Knees feeling like they're inches from caving, sending you too the floor. A small lingering yearning for this to simply end sticks in the back of your throat. Wondering if giving in to the snarling jaws of the dead would be easier than pushing through, forcing your knees to keep you upright. You'd never wished for an easy route before though. Why start now? 

The dizziness somehow grows, your jaw hanging limp as you force more air into your lungs, feeling the saliva build in your mouth and your face grow pale and clammy, coughing out in attempt to rid yourself of the sickness building within. 

Looking around for some kind of solution... something to wrap your wound or divert the walkers, a flare to fire in the distance maybe or a bomb... you spot them, fallen from a cart on the bridge, the bright red coating lighting up light a heaven sent solution. Your fingers fiddle for the handle of your gun, hell going out this way was better than being eaten alive. Gripping the cold handle as your arms raise aiming at the explosives.

"What the fuck? what are you doing?" Carl...? Sure you'd seen people on the bank but had you been imagining them...? then it is again, his voice and you know for certain he's speaking to you. "Don't be an idiot..." He Yells, voice laced with a thick layer of panic as you tilt your head to look at him, the dizziness punishing your movement.

The boy looks over at you, being held back by both Rick and Michonne, fighting the two grown adults grip, like he'd nearly got himself killed to reach you. "Let me go, they're clearly hurt" His voice is strained and hopeless as he writhes in their grip, trying his best to yank himself from their restraint. 

"Carl..?" The word falls from between your lips, Shakey and pained. He wont have heard it, though he probably gathered from the look on your face as your lips fell ajar. 

You force your gaze away from him, back on mission. Pulling the trigger before you even allow a chance at second thoughts, The blow is hard and fast, hot against your already clammy skin. 

 You find yourself waking up once again in the same plainly decorated bedroom, the cold grey light pours in through the one small window, the same three wind turbines spinning as they have each morning for the past god knows how many years.  The gentle hum of the air con blowing cold stale air around the four suffocating walls. You'd never not felt like a Guinea pig being tested on or a rat in a cage; the freedom they pretend you have is an illusion. 

You haven't truly been in the moment since that day happened, each person you knew seemingly fading from memory till all you see when your eyes shut is the snarling teeth of dozens of walkers Infront of you and the cold metal of the trigger of your gun. The faces are the first to go, then the voices, its hard to match what someone sounds like when you can't imaging their lips moving as they speak, it wasn't one person at a time, more like chunks of memories, fading leaving the scenes empty in your head. 

Sat around a campfire you were sure someone else was sat with you, maybe a group...maybe someone singing. Or the end of a train tracks, there was a sign though the letters no longer form, and theirs just the cold ghost of a group you're not sure if you imagined or not, wandering around each empty community, no one to be seen. Just to wake up in the same place, do the same training, wear the same uniform and act the same. 7am wake up, 7:30 breakfast, 8am morning meeting, 9 am close contact training, 10am helicopter training, then back for lunch at 11 just to be swept back to the outer edge of the compound to plunge a hand designed spear into the mushy brains of roaming rotting hunks of flesh what were once humans. 

Each squelch of flesh and crack of skull, ticking off another one and another one till your last name ends up painted onto the brick wall with the top kills number written out next to it. A big 97. Most kills in this section. 

They knew what you were, what they had planned for you. Labelled as an "A". They had labels for their civilians, Bs and As. Bs are people simply trying to stay alive and are let into the community via the Consignment Program. Survivors who are encountered by the group are let in, though not for free, having them do janitorial work, clearing walkers to earn their place, However they killed As on spot, fearing their ability to organise and inspire a revolt, risking uproar in the community's. They lacked mercy, finding removing potential threats before they become threats easier. 

That didn't stop them from mischaracterising you initially, hell that was the only reason you weren't amongst the hoards of walking dead, listing you as a B. Unsurprising in the state you were in, bleeding out on a river bank. They figured you out not long after, pulling you into a secrete developing part of the Military. 

They called themselves the "CRM" or the "Civic Republic Military." a high tech community somehow hidden from any one else, you'd grown to know their dirty secrets over time. Bombing the city's near by, ending every community to discover them. No one could leave for fear they'd be discovered, cause some type of dispute. You'd tried to escape nearing on five times. Surprisingly they asked you to join the military They had plans for you, to pick and scrape at your flesh and mould you into the very leader they needed. 

Part of you couldn't grasp why they still want you around, you'd pulled some shit trying to escape over the years, nearly loosing limbs, pulling stitches from past attempts. Just to wind up back in your same room, staring into the same blank wall, feeling the cold of a shard of glass between your fingers and drawing it to somewhere with a surface level artery ; though never being able to will yourself to actually do it. 

So when you find yourself in the passenger seat of a helicopter, plummeting towards the ground. You don't panic, seeing it as an easy way out. You fall asleep each night wishing that explosion had taken you out, or that you'd let the dead sink their teeth into your flesh. Years without a familiar face, years without any closure. The people whom had ceased from your memories could be dead, their names unable to fall from your butchered tongue. Finding everything you do or say robotic, accidentally slipping into the mould they'd chiselled out for you.

Feeling the soil greet you isn't something that you dread, closing your eyes as you make impact, just to hit the ground and fucking live. Crawling out of the wreckage, huffing as you pull your frame from the mess of metal and blood. Lurching forward on your knees as you attempt to pull yourself into the moment, each event feeling like you're watching from a distance, like what happens wont really affect you. A numb kind of comfort though. You don't fear death, it can't be much worse than this, can it? 

You're blinking, you can feel the weight of your eyelids as they shut, and the sting of salty air from the river not far. and a person? In the corner of your eye, wielding a sword, some clearly very worn tilted back on a head of long almost curly almost wavy hair. The black mesh of your military required helmet blocks your view, not to mention how out of it you feel. The person is pulling the masks of each individual, slicing their throats. They're out here and have clearly been out here. No point in running, so you sit back, knees pressed into the hard rocky dirt, silently waiting. Theres no fear, no nausea rising in your throat, nothing. 

You see yourself, like you're looking down, hands limp against your side, each breath shallow and purposeless, the person moves from solider to soldier with a vengeance not to be messed with. Till their cold pale fingers have latched onto the bottom edge of the helmet, pulling it from your head, swallowing slightly as the cold looking, bloodied blade is raised.... and theirs no kingdom come, the cold sharp metal hovers just under your chin...before falling to the floor.

"Holy fuck-" Holy fuck... 

You look up, greeted by a familiar blue eye, peering down at your limp form, kneeling as if you're ready to go, like theirs nothing ahead of you. "Carl." You breath, and you're back in your own flesh and bone again, seeing from your own two eyes. a feeling foreign but not unfamiliar grows in the pit of your gut, rising up in your throat. Dirt and stone crunches beneath your feet as you hoist yourself up to his level 

"I- I found you..." He breathes, awestruck as he looks at you. He doesn't question your compliance to the blade, the lack of any fight or flight at the feel of the cold metal against your neck. He's too overwhelmed with joy to pay any mind to it, just looking into your eyes. His face is older, more adult, and he's not wearing anything over his scar, deep rippled flesh revealed to the world. "You did..." You hum, unsure on the right thing to say. 

Then his mouth is against yours, warm and welcoming, hands wrapping around your armour clad waist. The cold wet of his mouth moving against yours as if you were drinking dry the river Lethe, forcing the years of a yearning thirst for this to simple oblivion. His lips curl up in a gentle smile as he breathes you in, undisturbed by your changed form. 

Finding your finger tips laced in the warm gentle curls of his hair, the lack of a flinch when you accidentally brush over his scar fills you with a undiscovered warmth, almost pride. You're the first to pull away, sucking in a breath through your teeth as your head lands on his shoulder, "Carl..." You breathe, garnering your own name back, said in the same breathless manner. 

"How'd you find me..." You hum, feeling an overpowering longing to investigate him, ask him how is everyone? how he knew where to look? to just keep asking until he's too overwhelmed with words to form a response. "I- I don't know..." He breathes, not truly believing the luck behind it all. Your head draws back meeting his eyes. 

The look on his face must mirror yours. Years of longing to be in one another's embrace, too feel the gentle warmth of his finger tips as he absentmindedly traces your features. Or the hiss he'd make when you'd snag his hair accidently after you'd begged and bargained with him to play with it, knowing he'd never admit how he drank in the quiet intimate feeling of the warm pads of your fingers as they weaved small braids or dragged across his scalp. You'd never really put to mind how easy he is to need, to be around. 

Your name falls from his lips, pulling you from your thoughts. The whispered word relighting the burning embers you were sure had been buried deep within you, blown out the moment you'd woken up surrounded by white clinical infirmary walls, leaving you with nothing but ash and ruins. His gentle gaze dragging you from the depth of the hole you'd found yourself in, the hole you'd always intended to be a grave, now all you can see is life, nestled deep within his soft expression.

The moment is interrupted by the loud whirr of high speed helicopter blades, far off in the distance. You knew what they're here for. Destroy all evidence, rescue any remaining. It was simple protocol. However this gave you less time to figure out what to do with  Carl. He could run now or join you. And though you yearn for him, his embrace. He isn't fit for this place.

"You either run or do what I say." The words tumble from your tongue, he pulls back slightly nodding, his feet don't move more than a few steps away from you, awaiting your instructions. "They can't know I know you." You urged, a faint shakiness in your voice, prying its way through the cracks, he's made his decision to stay without knowing what they'll put him through. 

"Pick a new name, make up a story, act like you need to rely on someone... And don't call them walkers I call them that." His chest rises as he sucks in a deep breath of mid summer air nodding. You raise your hands, looking to him to follow. You pull your military appointed gun from its holster, aiming it at him. Hopefully setting the scene well enough for the military to believe Carl was just someone trying to survive. The raised lump in his throat bobs as he forces down the bubbling nerves with a swallow. The whirring grows louder as the helicopter approaches. 

You eyes meet Carl a couple days later, his slender frame clad in the usual brown and orange uniform, a Bs uniform. three embroidered inter-looping circles on the back. You pick up the pace slightly, the once heavy unform now weightless as your feet hit the ground in an attempt to catch up to him. 

Pulling him aside into one of the military's vehicle storage ware houses, situation yourselves between two large black CRM trucks, the type they hauled large amounts of artillery or food to different parts of the republic. He'd made it into the consignment program, unbeknownst to him, you had to pry at Thorne to let him in. "They're gonna put you on missions soon." He nods, silently awaiting a continuation on what said missions are; letting his pale pink tongue dampen his lip in thought, "We fly out to overrun chunks of land, clear and secure it." His eyebrows twist uncomfortably at your unusually methodical way of speech, every word seeming to just get the point across, plain and clear. Your expression falters slightly at this revelation, blinking before setting yourself back on task. Slipping a small, neatly folded piece of paper into his pocket. "Wha-" You sniffle pressing a gentle kiss to his lips before slipping your helmet back on and walking out. Re-joining the group of fellow soldiers headed off. 

Carl's left with the weight of your note in his pocket, and an overwhelming amount of confusion. Fingers just grazing the folded edge but unwilling to pull it out and read it, for fear he'll loose you once again. He spends the rest of the day meddling with the idea of reading it, sat in his tiny military assigned room, eye on the dark edge of a letter peeking out through the folded gap. He fears whats on the page, but the curiosity threatens to bubble over the surface. Leaning forward to snatch the paper of the desk, fumbling as he opens it out, gliding over each letter. 

"I can't go, but you need to. I have a plan but I won't be their to execute it with you. My bit is done, this is your part. Theres a boat, just down the river, slightly out of view and off any route, Theres food, water, a with the route to home. The guards change over at 4, there's a blind spot, but its only open for fifteen minuets max, in-between 3:50-4:05. Go then, Go tonight, they'll notice what I took is gone by dawn. You found me, but you can't stay and I can't leave. I love you." 

Scrawled in your messy handwriting and signed with your initials, he runs his top teeth over his lower lip as he scans over the words again and again, but he cant will himself to even put the thoughts to set your plan in motion. Slumping back against the firm barely worn in mattress, staring up at the blank white ceiling as he allows the paper to fall from his grip.

You wake up, the same as each morning, pull yourself back to your feet and go. There's no sign of Carl at breakfast, you take it as he did as you'd told him, he'd be gone, nearly half way back to Alexandria by now. You head back to your room as per routine, slip into your uniform and find yourself clambering into a helicopter, slipping the headset on before looking at Thorne, she states most the key info, where you're going, and what you're doing, clearing walkers on the outskirts of the city, she does however drop some info which peaks your interest, "They're taking a trainee in the other one..." Your eyebrows twist and contort in confusion at her words? A trainee? You let out a quiet mm in response, a quiet acknowledgement of her words not wanting to overwhelm her with questions, trainees were never put on missions like this. It was one of the riskier areas, worn down buildings with bits of metal sticking out, chunks of brittle concrete threatening to fall and unsteady soil, with roots ready to rip out the ground taking the rest of the tree with. Trainees were put on smaller missions, in clearings with just a few stray walkers. 

Looking out at the community as it grows smaller beneath you, the surrounding area lined with pine trees nearly two dozen deep and vast hills which seemingly stretch for lines beyond the horizon line. 

The stretch of land you'd be working on grows near, the faint movement through still trees makes you certain you're not gonna go back very clean, mentally preparing to scrub dirt and blood off your skin until it is red and raw. 

The loud constant whirring of the blades dies down as the vehicle lowers to the ground, slipping your helmet on as you clamber from the seat, there's another solider, and who you assume is the trainee, his uniform hanging off his frame like they'd given him one just close enough to fit. Seemingly unprepared for his debut mission. He slips the helmet off to look at Thorne and you as the Rules and plan for the Mission get reeled off, "G.Rimes, you're sticking with me. We can't have you getting killed on your first go, Group one is on walker duty, Group two on fence duty," Thorne states. G.Rimes? You hadn't looked at the trainee, he wasn't in your group, so he wasn't yours to deal with. It was a silent agreement between you and Thorne, you could both each handle your own. 

And their Carl stood, holding the helmet to his hip, making soft subtle glances at you. Blinking you force yourself back on task, telling your group what they're doing. "Group one is on walkers, we need to get in their weld up what we can, and replace what we need to, there's three breaches and I'm assigning two to each one, Me and smith on the first, Byrne and Lincoln on the Second and lastly Carlton and Gurira on the third, you each know what you're doing and you have each other for help. We all know protocol? So get to it." You affirmed, wracking off each word to ensure the mission goes smoothly, following protocol. Having to shove down every word that threatens to escape your lips in Carls direction, you had a job and you wouldn't let emotions overtake the importance of the task at hand. Though in the overwhelming anger you don't even grasp the fact he chose to not go home, to not see his family again, For you. He'd rather keep up the act of an innocent survivor, live under intense rules and protocol to simply just to be in your space. 

The mission goes as planned, each breach repaired and nearly every walker in the area gone. Theres a gentle nudge on your side, its Thorne gently trying to get your attention "The trainee want's a quick run through on how the helicopters work, he's really adamant to be shown... And look I would but Beale wants me in for a meeting about some promotion..." She rambles, before heading off. Not leaving you with much choice in the matter. Spotting Carl stood next too the empty helicopter, a faintly sad blank expression on his face. Watching you climb into the drivers seat, following you. 

"You don't want me here do you?" He asks but the contents of the letter you'd given him made the answer already clear. You'd arranged an escape for him, with the intent for him to take it. He knew there had to be a reason why you needed him gone, and a reason you hadn't told him. 

"I don't think its a good idea for you to be here." You state matter of fact-ly. Eyes focused on getting the two of you back to the main facility. He's chewing on his lip slightly, looking out at the solid concrete facility buildings, ant sized in the distance. "Why." He asks, blue eye staring at you with a new glint of longing lace in his sad expression. "I can't- Carl, you should've ran when I told you to." You huff, knowing that this was for the better. 

As the helicopter nears closer to the community he pipes up again, "At least show me how to use this thing, like I'd asked for." He spits, playing with the button on his holster. He'd been given a black, crm embroidered eyepatch, his fingers going to adjust the fabric, having grown used to not wearing anything over it. The twinge of insecurity he was sure was gone had weezled its way back into his mind, maybe the fact you refused to look at him, or the urgency behind getting him something to cover it up with. He's slowly starting to wish he'd never even bothered coming to find you. 

You start listing off the controls on the large dashboard in front of you, a mass of flickering lights, knobs and switches. He sits and pretends like he's listening, nodding and humming to your words, like he gives a fuck, in all reality he's buying time with you, formulating a plan on getting you both out of there. You're hovering over a sectioned off area, an old research building which got swarmed just on the edge of the river bank. There was intent to reclaim the building from the dead, expand the walls across to it. Though they never found time, and figuring a way to wall of a chunk of river without interrupting the flow while simultaneously not having any gaps was too much work for one research building.  "What does that one do." He questions, hovering over a button. "Carl, do not press that." You urge, you'd already told him what that one does and yet... he still pressed it, sending you both plummeting towards the muddy river bank. 

You feel him pulling you out with him, rolling onto the dirt as the vehicle crashes into the river. "What the fuck?" You yell, pulling yourself away from him, dragging your muddied form to a stand. Looking at him from the ground. His eyes staring up at you, a less than happy expression on his face. He sits himself up, wincing as a mud covered piece of shrapnel plunges into the palm of his right hand,  quickly moving it away. Looking down at the wound as it slowly starts too ooze red, its not deep, not deep enough to need stitches at least. 

"I'm getting us out, us. Both of us." He snarls bringing himself to his feet. "They'll come find us, they're probably heading out right now." You respond. "We'll tell them, it malfunctioned or something." He scoffs, heading away from the scene of the crash, towards the upwards slope. "All the reason to get going then." He states, starting to climb the bank, and you have no choice but to follow. He glances around before deciding to head towards the old research facility. "Its overrun." You state, though his pace doesn't slow. "I can deal with Walkers." He urged, slipping the gun from its holster.

The two front glass doors are locked with a black chain, the CRM's lazy attempt at keeping whatever's inside contained. "Carl." You scolded, hearing the click of the metal as he cocks the gun, before one deafening shot rings through the air, breaking smashing the smooth glass of the door. "What are you doing...?" You hiss, watching him duck as he slips through the door frame. "We need supplies, so I'm getting them." He clicks a torch on, looking around. 

Rotted walkers sit slumped against the walls, some almost skeletal, most of the dead are in old clothes, not a uniform, a clear final claw at survival before they let themselves end. Part of you chalks the down fall of this place up to starvation. The way windows and doors are boarded up, they'd fought to keep walkers out, not realising nothing else could get in. The bottom floor is empty, research rooms, beakers with brown dry blood encrusted to the bottoms and an open fridge stinking of rot, heading upstairs...its cleaner, obviously the accommodation floor. Bedrooms with the doors open, a few empty, some locked with "DEAD" scrawled across the wooden surface in spray paint. "Carl..? what are we doing." You ask, slowly feeling like any control you have over the situation slipping into Carls grip. "Some of these rooms are secure, supply's and stuff, these guys weren't attacked. Their downfall came from inside." He ushers, slipping into one of the larger bedrooms at the end, it wasn't really a bedroom, more a small apartment. Some kitchen utility's, a bathroom and a small bed. "They have power, I saw the solar panels. We could get our shit together here." He states, setting his mud covered helmet down on the counter. 

"My shit is together back there. and your shit is at home, in Alexandria." You hiss, watching him look for something to clean the oozing wound on his palm with. "My shit hasn't been together since I lost you." He hums, finding a half empty bottle of rubbing alcohol popping the cap and pouring it over the wound, "Fuck..." He hisses under his breath. Theres the hum of a long range walkie talkie ringing from your pockets, the muffled voices of two undistinguishable CRM soldiers, stating they've yet to find the wreckage and for you to respond in the event of your survival. 

"Give it here." Carl offers his un-injured hand out towards the device. "What..?" You say, passing it over.  He takes it, bringing it to his ear for a moment before letting it fall to the ground, hitting the floor with a bang before his boot meets the smooth plastic surface, a crunch and it's out. He'd lost his in the crash, and now you'd lost yours.  "What was that for." The crushed plastic glistens up at you from the floor. "We don't need to communicate with them." He responds, looking for something to wrap up his hand with. Though unable to find something. 

"We can't just let them win, this isn't life." He hums, searching the cupboards. 

"They won the moment they found me, Carl." You spit, stood unsure how to respond to both his words and erratic movements. 

"You can't say that." He utters, still franticly scrambling for something of use, moving on to the wardrobe, pulling out some non-uniform clothes. 

"I tried to escape, I can't. They'll kill everyone we love, They have to keep themselves hidden." You spit, "Remember, early on. When they bombed Atlanta. Yeah? That was this. They can and will take out Alexandria. "He turns at you, clearly not knowing the full extent of the CRM's capability's. 

"We can get their first, evacuate everyone. There's gotta be a way to make this work." He rambles. "We can't" You scoff, running a stressed hand through your hair. 

"I should've said I'd be at the boat, then maybe you'd have fucking listened and we wouldn't be in this situation." You spit, feeling an unfamiliar anger, bubbling deep inside you. He looks at you with an unreadable expression. 

"If you'd have just Fucking gone, then I could ensure you and Alexandria's safety. I'm doing this for you, not us. Their is no us anymore." He nods, running his tongue over his lip as he pulls himself together, gaining some form of composure. 

"This isn't you." He sates, looking at you blankly. "This isn't me how?" You bark back.

"What did they do to you, please..."He huffs, a longing for answers carefully laced in each word. "Carl, we should head back" You state, unwilling to put to words what they've done to you. "Then why can't you leave, do I not deserve answers? Its been eight fucking years and you can't even give me something, who are you?" his words are dripping with anger and hopelessness, he needs something, even a crumb of information. 

"We've spent years, loosing people. Loosing our homes and our lives, These people are powerful. and they trust me, I'm working towards a future while all you can do is cling to the past." Your eyes cant will themselves to meet his, gaze lingering on the smashed walkie talkie "What future is this." You feel his eye on you as each word drips from his lips. "I have to do this Carl. I have to." You cry, trying to express the importance of this too him. 

"So I'm going, I tried, I really did try. I found you, But I didn't find who I came looking for." He sates as the sound of a knife being pulled from a draw wrings out, followed by the slam of a door. Leaving you alone, in a cold empty room. "I tried, don't think I didn't." You call out.

Carl pauses in the hallway, feeling a twinge of longing tug at his gut, before turning back, pushing the door open, but unwilling to enter the room. 

"What did you try for? Did you try to join them? Did you try to find me? You're a prisoner and you can't see it. The doors open, take it. " He urges, feeling the desperation build inside him. You stammer over your words till you deem them worthless, standing and looking at him. 

"I don't know you, and I sure as fuck can't trust you. You're lying to me and most definitely yourself." He spits, on the fence about leaving, going home to his family. Or staying, just to see the person he loves distort into someone he'd never want to stay around. Though the look on your face changes, you'd never expected to hear those words from him.

"I can see you trying still, who I knew is still in their, you could've picked up that walkie talkie and told them exactly where we are, but you didn't." He fiddles with the cold handle of the knife in his hand. "You say you can't go home, but I don't think you can just go back either." He states, his voice softer than it was, like he knows something about you that you don't , hitting a nerve. He was right and you knew it, but still the past 8 years spent being drilled with this idea were hard to erase in one conversation. 

"I learnt how to die, while still breathing..." You breathe, realising he didn't plan on letting down, deciding it would just be easier to tell him why you've become the person you've become. "at the start, it was just making it to the next day and I'd have the comfort of my memory's. I'd dream about when we first found the prison, and the train tracks, finding Alexandria. All stuff from years ago... but it started fading, chunks of people gone, you were gone. and suddenly I was by myself in these scenes, and I started doubting if they were ever real." You look up at the sound of the door clicking shut, followed by the quiet ding of a blade being set down on a counter, Carl doesn't dare interrupt you, silently encouraging you to continue. "Then, it was nothing. I couldn't see you, or the group or even the place, just the dead. I replay their mouths coming at me, and I can hear the moans, smell the rot. I'd hoped it was a sign or something. Every mission after one of those dreams, It felt like that was it, I'd miss step while clearing some walkers, and it would be it for me."

He inhales, giving you space, an open invitation to be vulnerable with him. "And sometimes I'd hope it would be, and then it wasn't to the point I nearly just did it myself, got sick of waiting. I didn't. And if I go with you, and I loose you again, what if I can't die again, I don't want to" You find yourself sobbing the last few words, unsure on where the hot tears falling down your cheeks came from. 

"So I wont let you lose me." He says, stepping forward, pressing a gentle thumb to your cheeks, brushing away the dampness. "And theres never not gonna be an us." He hums pecking your lips, gentle and sweet, like they'd always been. "We hunker down here tonight, we go tomorrow. Both of us, home." He breathes against your lips, unwilling to open his eyes as his lips find yours again. You pull back, "Can I take a look at your hand" You whisper looking down at it hovering beside you, "Not yet." He breathes finding your mouth again. 

You find yourselves intertwined in the small bed, his head limp against your shoulder as you gently clean his wound, more carefully this time. The soft orange glow of the lamp illuminates the darkened room and his skin, the callous on his fingers from the trigger of his gun, and the small scars where he'd nicked himself accidentally while sharpening his knife. Noticing he still has his eyepatch on..

"Thought you didn't wear one of those anymore.." You breathe gently, reaching to slip it from his face, throwing it into the pile of CRM uniform you intended on leaving behind. He lets out a gentle hum against the warm skin of your neck, his eye meeting yours. You finish cleaning his wound, wrapping it with an strip of an old shirt you'd found in the wardrobe. Letting your fingers slide through his over grown hair, feeling his breathing deepen as he dozes off against you. Not long followed by you, letting your head fall limp against the top of his. 

The morning starts of slow, awaking to the quiet shuffling of fabric as Carl clothes himself, finding a backpack hidden in one of the AC vents, having clearly spent a decent chunk of his alone time checking every inch of the bedroom for something of use. He smiles softly at you as you sit yourself up in the bed. Not long after going to find yourself something to wear, getting distracted halfway though at his lips against yours, "Carl..." You chuckle against his lips as his uninjured hand wraps around your waist, after a while of basking in it, you eventually push him off to finish getting ready.

The door clicks shut behind the two of you, a knife in either of your hands, taking out the stragglers left over from when you'd entered the building initially, finding two that look similar enough to each other slipping them into your abandoned uniform and setting them up to look  like they'd been eaten alive. Before finally dragging him into the cold metal elevator at the end of the corridor, and throwing yourselves against the far wall, watching as one of the mushy heads of a toppled over walker gets crushed as the two doors shut. "Jesus, eughhh-" Carl exclaims, turning to look at you. However you don't give him much warning before tugging him closer and slamming your mouth into his, at the innocent ding of the elevator making it to the ground floor. You're thrown back into the world you'd grown to know. 

Having to battle through a gaggle of a dozen walkers, before finding a Car parked neatly in the back. Carl slides into the drivers seat fiddling with the few multi coloured wires under the dash board before the engine comes roaring to life. He smiles at you, leaning over to kiss you. "Let's go home." He breathes against your flushed lips. 

Your fingers entangle themselves with his as he draws out the car park, the crunch of concrete beneath your feet, and his warm musky boyish smell, the knowledge that the CRM was long behind you.  

"G.Rimes? " You huff a laugh breaking the silence remembering the fake name he'd chosen "Carl." He glances at you momentarily, "What?" he holds back a smile, he knew what he was doing in the moment. "You could've been more creative...?" He nods, letting the laugh slip from his lips, his thumb gently going to caress the side of your hand, the empty road in front of you. You had a new start, a new chance to live. And live, not survive. Live. And you had all the intent to keep your fingers firmly linked with Carl for whatever the world decides to throw at you next. Or hell, what you decide to throw at the world. "Don't go blowing shit up when we get back, please" He chuckles, and you can't help but smile back. 

You take a moment to look at him, the way his eyelashes fall against the gentle flushed hill of his cheek and the way his mouth hangs slightly open with his glistening tongue poking out the corner as he navigates the surroundings, the soft warmth of his hand. His eyes still glistening as he stares out at the world ahead of him, the sun lighting up the green of the trees and the deep enticing brown of the far of hills, and the blue of the sky, revealing colours to you, you'd feared you'd never see again. Both love and terror graces his complexion, a fear for the future but the will to embrace it. You knew in this moment that you had no choice but to love him, any version of you that could've ley dead and buried back there. 

Looking out into the early morning sun, with the gentle breeze blowing in through a gap in a window, you knew your only goal in this moment was to go home. 

[captivating-flavors]

maybe | sylus

pairing: sylus x non mc assassin!reader

prompt: -

summary: maybe it was not as one-sided as you thought it was.

words: 2,441

warning(s): period, hurt/comfort

a/n: thats the longest ive ever written ever in my entire life. inspired by period and this. enjoy?? reblogs, comments and feedbacks are much appreciated <3

There was a high-grade protocore that had been stolen en route to the Onychinus base a few days ago. You managed to track it down and found that the theft had been arranged by one of the auction houses and that it was going to be auctioned off tomorrow night. Therefore, you had to go in and retrieve the protocore tonight.

To say it was complicated was an understatement, since apparently the auction house took liberty to strengthen their security system and increase the number of guards on standby ever since the stolen protocore landed in their warehouse, but using your inconspicuousness evol, you managed to avoid detection until the moment you lifted the protocore and the alarms started blaring. Which had alerted the guards to storm the warehouse.

Going on missions whilst being on your period was a normal thing but one thing you didn’t see coming was the excruciatingly painful period cramp that hit you mid-fight, despite you already taking painkillers for it earlier.

“Oh god. Talk about bad timing.” You groaned to yourself as you knocked the last one of the guards, who had nicked your side with the tip of his knife, with the butt of your empty gun.

You could still hear a swam of footsteps coming from outside the warehouse. More guards were coming. On a normal day, you would’ve been able to take them out but today, you could no longer stand upright due to the pain of the cramps, so you opted to use your evol to sneak away and drove–more like speed off on– your bike straight to base instead.

You had no idea how you even managed to drive yourself to base but you managed and upon arriving at the base, you were almost doubled over due to the pain, as you had your arm to your stomach whilst having your hand still clutching on to the protocore. You used your free hand to support yourself against the wall as you walked to Sylus’ office, with great effort.

“What’s up, Bossman?” You were trying to be casual with your tone, but you were sweating and breathing heavily due to the fight and pain, mostly the pain. “Guess what? Mission accomp–”

And everything went black.

-

“Y/N!” Sylus shouted as he ran towards your body, which fell to the ground with a hard thud, the protocore falling out of your grasp and rolling away to some corner.

The first thing he noticed as he cradled your upper body was how pale you were. It was like blood had rushed away from your body. The second thing he noticed were the blood stains on your clothes.

“Luke! Kieran!”

The twins rushed over to the office upon hearing his shout, “Yes, Boss.”

“Get the doctor. Now!” Sylus said as he picked you up from the ground and left the office to lie you down on his bed.

A million different thoughts swirled in his brain. What poison was it? Where can he find the antidote? Was it deadly? Why else would you collapse like that? You’ve had stab wounds, broken bones and gunshot wounds before, and it never made you collapse the way you just did. Worst of all, was he going to lose you?

“I heard you called for me, Mr. Sylus.” The doctor said as she entered the room.

“Help her.”

“May I ask what happened?”

“She came back from a mission and passed out. I think she’s been poisoned.”

The doctor moved to your side and started to examine you. She gently pressed her finger on to the skin under your eye before slightly dragging it downward, noting that you had a pale conjunctiva, surmising that you must’ve been bleeding somewhere. The doctor started by cutting you out of the blood-soaked fabric before proceeding to disinfect and bandage the cut on your side with a waterproof bandage.

Sylus could only watch as you lay unconscious on his bed. He wanted to do something to quench the gnawing worry eating at him. The fact that there was nothing he could do to get you to wake up sooner ate at him as he was forced to stand and watch as the doctor further examined your body for more injuries. The more time passes, the angrier he got, and he swore that once he found out who did this to you–his precious girl–he would make them pay.

“I–uh… I don’t think it’s poison, sir.”

“Why has she passed out, then?” Sylus snapped, failing to keep his anger at bay.

“It seems to be because of her period.”

“Period?” Sylus stopped his pacing, confused.

“Yes, she came to me this morning for some painkillers for her cramps. She’d come to me several times before as well due to her heavy flow and cramps. But seeing as she’s still engaging in strenuous activities despite both might’ve caused her to collapse.”

Sylus stayed silent, which prompted the doctor to continue, “I will be prescribing her usual painkillers and some iron supplements as well this time, since it appears to me that she is also anemic. Please make sure that she takes them after her meal and that she stays away from strenuous physical activities for the time being.”

“How long is she going to be out for?”

“She should be up in about half an hour.”

“Is there anything else that could help her with the pain?”

“You could use a heat pad on her abdomen area, that should help ease the pain.”

Sylus nodded, “Alright. Thank you.”

The doctor placed the bag of medication on the bedside table before bowing and leaving the room, leaving Sylus to wait for you to regain consciousness by the chair he had pulled on to the space beside his bed.

-

You opened your eyes to a familiar yet unfamiliar scene. You’d been here before, but this was most definitely not your room.

“Where am I?” Your mind foggy and your own voice sounded groggy and scratchy as you attempted to get up, wincing at the sharp pain on your side.

Sylus stopped you from getting up, “You’re in my bedroom, Sweetie.”

“What… What happened?”

“You passed out on me.”

“Sorry about that.” You let out a small cough, propping yourself up against the headboard before continuing, “But I managed to secure the goods, didn’t I?”

Sylus walked over to the table in front of the couch to pour a glass of water before handing it over to you. “Thanks.” You said, before dunking the contents of the glass.

There was a short pause as he watched you, “Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve sent someone else instead.”

“Tell you what?”

“That you were in pain because of the cramps.”

“It’s fine. It’s not a big deal.”

“What do you mean it’s not a big deal? You passed out. You–” His increasing tone had you looking up at him, it was not like him to show such… concern? He had to clench his fists to stop himself from raising his voice because he knows that’s not the first thing you need upon waking up before continuing, “I thought I was going to lose you.”

 “Well, you didn’t. It would take a lot more than that to take me out.” You chuckled softly averting your gaze from his, still puzzled by the emotion so clearly displayed on his red orbs.

“I know. You’re a big girl.”

“But it would be a shame if that took me out, wouldn’t it? You know for a fact that no one can finish these missions as efficiently as I can.” You let out a smile as you said it.

Sylus sighed, “That’s not what I meant, Kitten.”

You were about to respond but instead let out a curse as you felt your cramps coming back. “Shit.”

“Here. The doctor said a heat pad would help.” He said as he handed a heat pad over to you.

You were still puzzled, but you took it and put it over the lower part of your stomach, “Thanks.” The heat pad did make your cramps feel slightly more manageable.

Sylus looked at you for a second and got up to go into the bathroom. You then heard the sound of water running and the sounds of Sylus rummaging through something. After about ten minutes, he walked out of the bathroom and stood by the bedside.

“C’mon let’s get you cleaned up first.” Sylus said as he tried to pick you up.

You held your hand out to stop him, “Whoa. I can walk myself.” You tried to stand on your own but staggered, clearly underestimating the pain you would feel as you stood.

He reached out but you rejected his help yet again, “It’s fine. I’m used to it.”

“Just because you’re used to it doesn’t mean you’re not in pain, Y/N. Let me help you.” He said as he reached an arm behind you to keep you steady and added, “Please.” Gentleness and desperation(?) laced in his voice.

“Okay.” You eventually relented and let him carry you into the bathroom.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want him to help you. It’s just that you didn’t want his actions to water any seeds of delusion that you have about how your relationship could be something more.

Sylus put you on your feet in front of the bathtub before turning around to let you get out of your clothes. You quipped, “It’s not like you haven’t seen it before.”

“I’m being respectful, Kitten.”

You shut off the water and tested it with your hands, suds sticking to your wet palm. You got into the tub and said, “You can turn around now.”

Sylus then walked over to the tub and knelt beside it, watching you as his arm rested on the edge of the tub. You felt uncomfortable under his gaze. It was too… warm and tender.

“Quit looking at me like that.” You grumbled, splashing some of the water onto his rolled-up sleeves.

“Like what?” The warmth in his gaze now had hints of mirth within it as he smirked.

“Like I’m some wounded stray you picked up off the street.”

He laughed, the sound deep, rich and velvety. “Oh, Sweetie, you’re so much more than that.” His hand reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

You coughed. The heat rushing to your cheeks and the pounding of your heart prompted you to change the subject, “Sorry about your sheets. I’ll clean it up later.”

“It’s fine, Kitten. I can handle it. I’ve handled much worse.”

The two of you stayed there in silence for a while. Usually, you would’ve come up with something witty to say but the warmth of the water felt too good on your aching stomach. Sylus was the one to break the silence, “I’ll get the chef to make you some food.” He then stood and added, “The towels, pads and change of clothes are over on the counter.”

He left you in the bathroom to your own devices, where you decided you would soak in the warmth a little bit longer. It felt nice to just relax for a bit, especially after the mission you’ve been on but you couldn’t help your thoughts that were starting to wander off to Sylus.

Several months ago was when you first realized that you were falling for him, but you knew you had to keep it under wraps since it has always been nothing more than something casual between the two of you. That had been the agreement, hadn’t it? No strings attached, just business. And pleasure, sometimes.

However, the warmth and tenderness in his gaze tonight was really… unfamiliar. He had always treated you well, of course, but tonight it felt as if he was being overly sweet and that unsettled you, as it gave you hope for something more. Could you, though? Could you ask for something more?

The coldness of the tub water brought you out of your thoughts. Guess you stayed in the tub longer than you thought. You got out of the tub and straight into the shower, before changing into the fresh set of clothes Sylus had prepared for you.

Sylus glanced up at you from the stack of papers as you walked out of the bathroom. “Come. Sit.”

You looked around the room to see that the sheets had been changed. You walked over towards the desk and sat on the chair opposite him; a plate of steak and a bowl of tomato soup was laid out in front of the stack of papers he was going through. “What…?”

“Eat. You’ll have to take your medicine.”

You ate in silence as he went through more of the paperwork on his desk. Eventually, he’d left you alone to shower. After you were done with the food, you took the meds as instructed on the packaging and you scrambled to gather your things.

“Where are you going?” Sylus’ voice startled you.

“To my place…?” The statement came out more like a question, because you yourself weren’t entirely sure. You weren’t exactly in the condition where you could manage the walk to your apartment three blocks away, but you’d never stayed the night before.

“It’s late. You should just stay the night.”

“…Is it okay for me to?”

“Whatever do you mean?” Sylus gave you a puzzled look as he got out of his towel and into his robe.

“I mean… I’ve never stayed the night… Even after,” You gestured between the two of you, “you know.”

“You’re always gone before I could ask you to stay, Kitten.”

His unwavering gaze and response got you speechless, “Oh.”

“Yes, oh. Just get on the bed and sleep, yeah?” He chuckled before turning the lights off.

“Wait, Sylus.”

“Yes, Sweetie.”

“Can I ask you for a favor?”

“Anything.” He replied as he walked over and laid down on to the other side of the bed.

You turned to look at him, “Will you hold me?”

“I wasn’t planning not to, Kitten. Turn over.” He said as he reached onto the bedside table to grab a heat pack. He pulled the sheets of over the both of you before resting his arm over your body, holding the heat pack against your abdomen.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Sylus.”

You felt your eyes growing heavy by the minute. The warmth of his body pressed on to your back was all too comforting. One thought did swirl around your head before you fell asleep, though.

‘Maybe it’s not as one-sided as I thought it was.’

[forthevibe-w]

as usual with me, we have to take it slow the first time that i peg her.

despite her usual docility, she guides my strap to her hole. i'm sure she'd prefer if i did it, but i need help for the first time.

so she positions herself, then slowly lowers herself onto my strap. and she moans so loud, undoing herself before me, fucking herself on my dick. i will just watch with fascination, figuring out how to replicate what she likes. if she sounds so pretty now, i wonder what she'll sound like when i do it.

after a few moments, i will stop her. i'll grab her neck, or her hair, or even her waist, and tell her to stop. i'll remove myself from her hole, and flip us around, and pin her to the bed. i'll kiss her pretty lips and wait her her to beg for more. she's so desperate at this point, i doubt it'll take long, but i won't rush. i will touch her softly and bite her hard until i hear her ask for me to fuck her. if she rushes, i'll curl my lips into a smile, and whisper "be patient," until i'm ready.

this time, i'll fuck her myself. i will position myself over her aching hole and listen. when she begs, having tasted my strap but not truly been fucked by me, i will give her more than a taste. she said she likes it rough, so rough i will be. i'll slam into her with brute, unpracticed thrusts. i don't know how to be gentle, and would i even want to be? seeing her, i always want to take. this time, seeing her pleading beneath me, i want to fuck her at my will. i watched her do it, i know how she likes it, so this time, i'm letting her lie back and i am fucking her.

i'll watch her squirm beneath me, those huge eyes rolled back, helpless and consumed with pleasure. i'll listen to her pathetic noises moaned in sync with my rhythm, watching her hands go above her head without my action. i'll watch her become overwhelmed, crying, and incoherent. and then i'll watch her cum harder than she has in a long time.

and after she finishes, i want to hold her tight. i want to take her in my arms, and kiss her forehead, and make sure it wasn't too hard. i'll take off the strap and trace patterns into her skin while she comes down. i want to keep her there until the after tremors have faded and she's able to say more than "wow."

all this say, i want to fuck her, but we'll have to take it slow the first time. at least, slow at first. i'm sure i'll get used to it, but it'll take me a moment.

[joelsknees]

modern au is over 12k words can I get a hell yeah

[taketheringtolohac]

ah i debated putting this here or not but. people seemed interested so here it is i guess. this is a link to the pdf of my finished play, which is an adaptation of a game of the ttrpg clear eyes/full hearts that i played with my friends this past january. ive called it the gay football play in the past, and that’s essentially what it is:

set in the mid 80s in middle of nowhere iowa, four football players figure out who they are all while under the scrutiny of the hyper masculine cathedral of football and ever present midwestern protestantism. content warnings are included in the pdf, but just a general blanket for homophobia and heavy christian religious themes.

its pretty long (about 22k) and a pretty heavy piece in a lot of ways, but this is like my baby right now, so if you read it let me know what you thought! even if it was just “this is good” or “this sucked” its all appreciated! i dont think i’ll be progressing this project any further, but i enjoyed writing it and collaborating on it with the friends that i played with. hope you enjoy too!

[miafeystits]

He’s a hypocrite, he knows, coming here to talk when he’s still choking on the truth in his throat, but as he presses this kiss into Kazuma’s skin he prays that it says everything his words cannot, that his tongue still cowers at the thought of saying aloud. When he pulls away, Kazuma is looking at him like he’s the only thing on earth. “Kazuma,” he says, voice firm. “I don’t hate you, okay?” In which the future waits for no one, but Ryuunosuke still has a few things to say before he goes.

here's the post 2-5 asoryuu fic that i've been working on for a while, about trying to deal with the past and look towards the future. enjoy!

[shastafirecracker]

THROWS MUG ON THE GROUND FLIPS THE TABLE AND THROWS THE TABLE AND COMPUTER OUT THE WINDOW

IT’S FINISHED MOTHERFUCKERRRRRR

[whoa-where-did-the-pancakes-go]

Forgot to mention that I finished my ela project that was due in November. Finally. Its 8,334 words.

[canibalistic-brownie]

I'm writing an entire fanfic and It was supposed to be a short little blip but now its over 12k words and I have to expand it because Yes, It Has A Beginning Middle And End but its not Enough, it has to feel filled and fulfilled and they have to be happy. You have to see the setting, feel the emotions, understand what I'm trying to convey and that's not gonna happen without more info and I really don't have time for this but god damn it this is making me a lot more happy than real life so god damn it get ready because this shit is gonna be long and sappy and as good as I can make it. Also I have zero time frame for when its going to start coming out, I just know its going to. Probably.

[nin-deer]

things,,,,, may be getting a little out of hand,,,,

[elisedonut]

asking for a beta is kinda scary kdjflsd

[teruhashi-can-kiss-my-arse]

Btw i am in the process of rewriting a practical joke by god (working title for now i need to change it) for realsies this time

The prologue has been posted

[carbonfiction]

Dark Desires

older, best friends dad!Logan x reader

summary: a week ago you found yourself drunk texting your best friends dad; something that should've been a mistake, but you were sure in that drunken moment that Logan would know everything you'd kept from him all those years. You'd been thinking about it for longer than you'd care to admit; adding to the fantasy. so what happens when logan finally indulges you..

warnings: Swearing, dirty talk, F!Receiving oral, PIV smut, prone bone and missionary, Somnophilla (technically??), daddy kink, roleplay?? pussy sniffing?? Kind of voyeurism? But the person is very much asleep. Also tagging this for dubcon but it’s more pre established consent/free use and slight CNC vibes depending on how you view it? Tagged this the best i believe i can but ultimately you are responsible for your media consumption.

A/N: i don't know where this came from, other than i had a glass of wine and a naughty thought. i tried real hard on this and its a little darker than i usually write- not to mention longer- but i hope yall enjoy a filth filled piece of my intoxicated brain anyway. Et voilà.

Masterlist Words: little over 4k (oop- longest thing ive ever written.. i got carried away..)

Your heart is hammering away inside of your chest so insistently that it feels like your ribs are bruised and your breasts are trying to punch their way out of your dress.

You're still wearing the stupid thing and Laura is drinking another mimosa. Part of you is grateful for that. Yet while you want her drunk and snoring tonight, part of you can't help trying to stop her.

You make eye contact, give her the look. Tell her to slow down because you two have been down this road before. She gets wild, has fun for half an hour, and then spends the rest of the night dizzy in a bathroom asking deep philosophical questions like why do my eyes hurt? And why do guys suck? And do i still have puke in my hair?

But if she's drunk tonight, just enough to sleep like the dead, then what?

You set your own drink aside to check your phone for what feels like the hundredth time this hour and lift a shaky thumb to your texts.

You've read the thread again and again and again, and still you don't quite believe it. The party swirls around you. A hurricane of sound and the smell of cocktails is sour in your nose. You feel the heat of your friends, your fellow graduates. one day lawyers, doctors, professors, professionals in their field; and yet here you are reading over the texts again.

You feel like a little girl and yet simultaneously the most grown of women because you have a secret, a dirty little secret.

You were nearly as drunk as Laura is now when you sent the first text a week ago. You were celebrating the end of finals and you were curled up in bed after a long night out.

One of your other friends had flirted with the bartender. You'd told the girl to stop and Laura had reached from her stool and pinched your leg. Asking if you'd ever needed something so badly that you actually made a bad decision.

Everyone had laughed, all except you.

You know she was teasing and complimenting in the same breath. You're a good girl and everybody knows it. Reliable, honest and never involved with the wrong kind of guys.. Always a reason to why you were too busy to bother. You were studying, too busy hanging out with Laura. Too busy prepping for school, internships and the next two decades of your life.

You're no angel, although of course, no one was. You've had your share of regrettable hookups and disappointing boyfriends, but nothing that set your world alight. Nothing worth risking anything for.

But maybe what Laura had said thread under your skin more than you'd like to admit. Maybe you were just drunk enough to ignore the obvious risk.. Or was it that you'd been thinking about him for an indecently long amount of time?

So with finals over, diploma practically in hand. There was nothing preventing years of pent up lust from sending a jolt down between your legs, setting a crackling fire in your heart and making you sweat. Dripping down your neck, stomach, that spot on your lower back, they all tingled as you crouched on the corner of your bed and wrote a single text.

You: I need something.

You sent it. Had forced yourself to before you chickened out and immediately regretted it. You thought you'd worded it in such a way that you could play it off, pretend it didn't happen.

But you were sure in that drunken moment that Logan would read those three words and know everything you'd kept from him all those years. Every dirty thought, every horny fantasy, everything.

It was all right there in the text. 2am on a Thursday night and truly it could only mean one thing. You put the phone down, tried to make yourself go to sleep.

Logan was an older man with a life. A job, house and a child- your best friend- and you were sure he wouldn't even see the stupid thing until the morning when you could say you meant to message Laura. Not him, not her father. But then you picked up the phone again, half panicked and ready to change your mind, when you'd saw those little dots.

That meant he was writing something back, at 2am on a Thursday night, either in bed or his limo.

Logan: You need to go to sleep

Of course.. Responsible. That was the responsible thing to do. And you would do just that. But first you'd just write a quick text to apologize. Say it was the wrong number and sleep this off; pretend it didn't happen for the rest of your lives.

But.. what if, for once in your life, it could be easy? What if Logan did know everything? What if.. There was something else? Because that was how this all started, hadn't it?

You'd always felt something more, saw something different in his worn eyes, his gruff demeanor. Heard something he was saying when he really wasn't saying anything at all.

Or.. Was it all in your head? Was this only ever a one way infatuation? A young woman's crush, a dark fantasy that only grew darker with each new kink you discovered in yourself? Losing all confidence, you texted back.

You: sorry. Wrong number.

And that was that- or it should've been that- If it was only ever a one way street. You put the phone down, tried desperately to keep your eyes closed, but the moment you heard the phone buzz again you peek.

Logan: Is that true sweetheart?

Oh no, no. it wasn't true at all. You knew he knew exactly who'd texted and why; what you wanted him to do. You'd been thinking about it for years. Adding to the fantasy. Soaking your sheets in the middle of the night when you couldn't sleep, all that brought a temporary relief. If only for a little while; So, you text back.

You: No

Just that. A simple No.

Logan: You telling a lie?

You: Not exactly

Logan: So you wanted my attention then?

You: Wanted? No Logan.. Need.

And yes, you know need is a very strong word.

Logan: You feel very strongly about that huh? Strong feelings can be dangerous sweetheart.

You: what if i want something dangerous.

You answered back with the most honest thing you could say. And then there was a pause, a very long pause, in which you could see no dots, and even started to wonder if he'd abandoned you. Left you on read.

A thousand images erupted in your mind, different versions of him sitting and staring at your number- your words. Those cheap reading glasses perched on his nose as he wondered if this was some kind of game.

But if it was a game.. Logan was ready to play and after a few minutes your phone dings again.

Logan: you're being a real bad girl tonight, aren't you?

And then it wasn't your best friend's father you were texting. Well, it very much was- that was the crux of it, wasn't it? But now it was also the man. The man on the other side of the phone who was paying close attention.

You: Yes, daddy. very, very bad.

Now, In the darkness of his daughter's room, You imagine colors swirling on her ceiling. Your heart restless like a caged animal and there is a knot in your stomach twisting tighter and tighter by the second.

You don't know how long you've been lying here. 5 minutes or 5 hours. But you know you can't possibly wait another moment... But then you do, because you have to.

You haven't heard from Logan all day and that makes you afraid. Really genuinely afraid that He's forgotten or changed his mind.

Because, well, it's just you and Laura in here, isn't it? You're lying on the floor, a lumpy pillow under your head, and a spare, slightly musty blanket folded under your breasts.

Laura is snoring away in her bed, her limbs tangled with a stuffed animal almost the size of her- one you'd won her from a carnival. It was like old times, she slurred drunkenly. The three of you huddled together in her bed, giggling and watching some crappy reality show.

She'd tried to get you to join her and the animal in the bed, but you'd said no. Insisted that it was too hot tonight. That you'd rather be able to spread out on the floor. Fortunately, by the time you made it up to Laura's room, she was too far gone to argue.

Unfortunately, now though, there's a very drunk girl in her bed beside you, a possible witness to your depravity. And so you lie there, staring at the ceiling and forcing yourself not to text. Not to call. To just ignore the nagging doubt in your gut.

And yet again, you still find yourself opening the text thread. Reading through the things you told him, the things he'd told you. A formed plan and line after line of you promising things. All of the 'Yes, daddy I want this' the 'Please do that to me' The repetitive 'ill be a good girl, Promise' And then, at the very bottom, a safe word. It was when you'd agreed on the safe word that you knew this was for real. Not a fiction in a book or a fantasy playing out in a movie.

The word. Kitty. An inside joke from years ago. The word proof that all the little confidences and conversations held an attraction you were both willing to hide for the sake of decency

But.. you don't want to be decent anymore. You'd confided your fantasy, one that you had dreamt so many nights. Wished for it in the hot, comfortable haven of Laura's bed every time you'd stayed over. The thought of her older, attractively gruff father coming to you in the night and making you submit to his secret lust.

Of him pulling your panties to the side while Laura slept untroubled. Logan ravishing you while you whispered and mewled 'please, daddy, make me your filthy slut'

You've always been his filthy slut, haven't you? Deep In your heart. The thought is turning the wet spot between your legs into a soggen menace. You've been horny before, You've been needy before, but never like this- because you've never tried something like this.

Never wanted something badly enough to ask for it; or even beg for it. This was a dream, a dirty desire, a secret yearning never to be true.

Then you'd drunk texted. You told him and he'd responded, not with shock or disgust, but enthusiasm, cautious enthusiasm. But it was still only text messages. You haven't spoken to him yet, not properly at least. Even when you saw him walk in at the party, or in the limo on the way back to Laura's. You couldn't bring yourself to say a word. Your mouth was so dry, cheeks so hot. Laura had laughed and said you were flushed in the backseat- a lightweight to end all lightweights- when in fact you haven't had a drop to drink tonight.

You're going to throw your phone at the wall, you swear it. But No, that would probably wake her up. Instead, you conclude that you're going to find your pants, and you're going to leave this house and never come back. You love Laura but you can't bear it, can't believe you trusted him with this. You can't lie here and torment yourself about your decisions a minute longer about your need.

Then, your heart leaps into your throat. phone dropping onto your chest with a soft thud. Quickly you brush it off and turn onto your stomach. Your head hitting the pillow, eyes squeezed shut and pulse racing like you've run a marathon.

Through your closed eyelids, you see the glow of the hall light from the open door, only for it to vanish moments later. Either the door has closed or the light's been turned off, but you're not sure which because blood is racing so loudly in your ears. Breath escaping in overwhelming gasps.

Do you hear calculated heavy footsteps or is that your imagination? You struggle to listen for Laura. Is she awake or still sleeping? The tension so tight in your chest that you begin to feel dizzy, almost nauseous. Then comes the creak of the floor at the foot of your makeshift bed, the unmistakable presence of another person in the room, their eyes on you.

You can't stop your body from trembling slightly as the sheet is softly yanked away. Adrenaline courses through your veins, making your body buzz with anticipation.

Your legs are bare the cool air of Laura's bedroom. You're laying on your stomach. Face pushed into the pillow, eyes clenched shut as if you're locked into a deep, drunken sleep- like you should be.

Your legs are splayed out, dark lacey panties riding up the crevice of your ass. One of your ass cheek's indecently exposed... then a rough touch caresses over the swell of that exposed cheek, two big exploring hands, gliding over you.

You hear the grunt of a man, and you know it can only be Logan. He's the only other person home.

Your heart is beating so hard you're afraid you're going to pass out. Laura is on the bed, sleeping mere feet away, and her father is groping you in your supposed sleep.

So the question becomes: are you dreaming now? or are you praying this is as far as he'll go?

when Logan pull's the fabric of your panties to the side, you know he's willing to go much further. He's quiet in the darkness around you, but he's big and the house is old; the floor creaking and groaning as he readjust's his heavy weight.

Your panties are roughly hiked over one cheek of your ass, the sound of ripping lace filling your ears. Logan's hot breath roll's over your ass and the tremble in your limbs becomes a full shiver.

You can feel his scruffy face so close to your body, Feel his nose against the crevice of your ass as he roves lower. Dipping further until his mouth- his nose - is pressed into the folds of your bared cunt.

You hear how he inhales deeply, toes curling in response. Your fingers lay over Laura's spare pillow, the case tight in your grip. He's smelling you, nuzzling against your dampening skin not once, but many times. Lewdly breathing in your scent like a dog that's found something it likes.

His calloused hands spread you open so he can breathe deeper still and when hes as deep into your cunt as his face will allow, his wet tongue slides out to lick at you. You cannot stifle your moan at the feeling, immediately biting your lip to keep from growing any louder.

But with this the culmination of so many fevered late night fantasies, you dont know if you are dreaming.

His wide tongue laps at your swollen clit, swiping open the seam of your pussy and to the point just shy of your tighter hole. You hear logan growl into your wet slit like a monster unleashed from beneath the bed. Feeling how how his licks grow stronger, longer and twice as ravenous as he steadily turn your pussy into a drooling, dripping mess.

He laps at you in the quiet darkness of Laura's room, calculated and experienced as you fight to not to cry out. The pressure of an impending orgasm building so tight in your body that it feels time you woke up.

And so you take a deep breath, a rough gasped sound falling out too. Your fingers claw at the pillow as you flex your lower half.

"Hmm?"You grumble, pretending to bat away the cobwebs of sleep. "Wha-whats happening, What are you doing?" You ask, voice thick with mock confusion.

Within moments you feel Logan's tongue retreat from your pussy, a weight so much heavier than your own crawl over your half naked body. You feel him pressed tight against you, still clothed if the scratchy fabric tells you anything, but an unmistakable bulge is hidden inside. Hard and large against your ass you feel Logan's arm rub against your shoulder. A big hand sliding over your mouth.

"Quiet, sweetheart" he growls in your ear. "Daddy's had enough of your teasing"

Another large hand slides beneath your sleep shirt to cup your tender tits, The nipples diamond hard against Logan's palm. You cant help but moan into his hand as you plead.

"Please. Didn't mean to tease" its a wine, petulant in tone.

"Course you didnt.. Shame S' Too late now" he whispers against your ear, teeth biting into your earlobe. The hand on your breast trails down. Right the way down to his slacks.

"B-but Laura" You warn him in a whispered panic, hearing the sound of a zipper sliding down. you struggle teasingly, hips bucking back against him. Its not enough to cause a scene or enough to wake your sleeping friend- his sleeping daughter- but just enough to make him pin your body down. Enough for you to feel a fraction of his real strength.

Logan's muscles bulge from the effort of caging you against the floor and spreading your legs.

"Nuh uh, Stay still. Stay right where ive got you" he murmurs darkly in your ear, voice a low rumble. the words fire through you like liquid lightning as you bite into his palm, not to fight but to restrain a high pitched moan that you fear could wake the neighbors- not just Laura.

"nothing you can do now sweetheart, just gotta take it" Logan says and you hear the mocking smile in the words, feel the throb of his thick cock as it emerges from the confines of his pants. "Kept telling me you were a good girl, so show me"

With your stomach flat against the ground, legs spread wide beneath him, you can do nothing but tremble as his cock slips between your legs. The cock belonging to your best friend's father sliding deliciously across that little bundle of nerves that sparks a whimper of pleasure.

Your eyes roll back as Logans hips buck, cock brushing your clit again, running up and down your slit torturously slow. "fuuuck, you feel that? How hard you've got my cock?"

You're kicking your legs now, moving your hips. It could be viewed as a struggle but its not, not really, you're just so desperately excited you can't keep still.

"Don't need to fight me baby. Just let daddy in hm? let it happen sweetheart."

And then he's pushing inside your body in one heavy thrust; slow and impossibly deep. The weight of him inside your cunt making you mewl against his palm. All the years of secret yearning, wet fantasies and subtle flirtations have all led to this moment.

It doesn't take many thrusts before your tongue is rolling out of your mouth, licking wetly against his palm like a grateful dog- a bitch in heat. You try to use it to muffle the moan that follows, a pitiful sound mixed with pleasure, like you're ashamed to be in the situation.

Used and humiliated around logans cock.

Its push followed by retreat, a half thrust and then withdrawal over and over. "So fucking tight" Logan growls as you wiggle your ass, not certain if your trying to squirm further in to his grip or out.

He's stretching your walls apart, the burn of his size delicious with each heavy he offers. Each bringing a pulsing throb on your clit. "Yeaaaa, that's it, take it like a good girl.." he groans. "S' what you wanted isn't it."

Logans right, this is exactly what you wanted and more. His body trembles atop yours from the exertion, balls squeezed against your ass, his hand on and off clenching around your breast. His thrusts picking up in pace as you struggle and squirm to keep quiet even under his palm

"L-logan" you whimper as he pushes particularly deep, pussy squelching lewdly from your arousal, his hand barley muffling the word. He knows your close before you do, can feel your cunt clenching desperately.

"Getting fucked so good your gonna cum sweetheart?" he rasps in your ear, panting into it. "C'mon, tell daddy how good his cock feels."

"S-so good.. F-fuck yes daddy, please"

You whine and It is a struggle to pry his strong hand off your mouth to get the words out.

"Go on sweetheart. Cum, coat my fuckin cock. Show me this cute little pussy is mine"

and then his big hand clamps back over your lips as he begins to fuck you into the floor. Your orgasm crashes over you in burning waves. Every stroke becoming an ecstatic agony, overstimulation starting to buzz over your bones. Its a constant struggle to hold your moans and neither of you can move properly for the risk of waking Laura .

But Logans hips remain unrelenting, Fucking you prone on your friends floor. His balls swinging, swatting unbearably at your clit with every entry. The heat of him and being trapped against the floor is almost unbearable, but so is having to keep your whimpers quiet. sweat beads hot on your brow

you can hear his own desperate attempts at staying quiet. Broken only by muffled groans, grunts of exertion, and primal chesty growls as your cunt clenches wetly around him.

Yet the discomfort of overstimulation is no match for the absolute bliss of your submission. Your toes curling so hard you're on the verge of a cramp.

The friction between your clit, Logan's cock and the floor builds to an intolerable pressure. Something must give way. The temptation to lose all control and scream his name too great. Now that possibility of you blacking out is too dangerous to ignore. So you say it the word.

"Kitty!"

Not because you want to, but because in this moment you have to. Almost as soon as the word leaves your lips and sinks into the pillow, wet from saliva and tears, you feel his body shudder. muscles seizing while a heavy groan sounding out into the skin of your neck.

"you okay?" he pants softly worry creasing his brow. "Was it too much?"

Your wordless and it worries him. Making him pull back, cock slipping free with a hushed hiss as he helps you shift onto your back, so he can look at you properly.

Your hands rise, fingers caressing his scruffy cheeks. "M'okay" you pant, eyes on him. "wasn't too much. Promise."

No, in fact, It was just right- before it all overwhelmed you that is. Now? now you just want to hold him, make love to him. Hold onto something- someone that isn't really yours. Eye to eye, your mouth slides back over his, legs spread back open, ready to welcome his length back inside. Without a word you buck your hips down, beckoning him to fuck you again.

Things are much quieter this time. Pace slowed to deep grinds rather than shallow thrusts, pleasure once again coiling in your gut as you lean up to watch his cock disappear inside.

"Feel so good sweetheart, my good girl" he coos, lips against yours as his hand slips back to cup your breast. "My good girl with a fuckin perfect body"

You keep your eyes on logan, blissful smile across your face, and for this moment he's not your best friends father. Not with the way he's gazing down at you with a mixture of lust and long held affection. "always wanted you" he whispers, hand moving back from your breast to cup your cheek. "But I would have kept that secret forever.."

You squeeze him to your chest, heart stuttering at the admission as you lock your arms behind his neck, legs tight around logans waist. You whimper back his name, a plea on your tongue.

"Want you to cum logan.. Please, need to feel it"

You want it more than anything, to feel his cum pushed inside you; for it to drip out later as a downright filthy reminder. You kiss his neck, then cheek, and finally his lips. You want Logan to claim you right here on the floor, right under her nose and you know it makes you a bad friend. Your eyes roll back, hands clawing down his chest as you feel yourself giving up all thought to the rush that flows down the center of your body. The one that begins and ends in the wet, sticky place between your legs, Where the sensitive bud of your clit pulses like a dying star.

it's then he growls much too loud, and you respond back in a whimper, lips pressing tight as you cum together in panted kisses. Him pumping hot heady ropes of cum inside your cunt without reservation or regret as you clench in a vice grip around him.

Tomorrow you will be sore, you know it for a fact. But Tonight.. Tonight You can revel in a fantasy made flesh, your flesh and Logans wrapped around each tight. You drag weak fingers down through his damp hair, then his back, feeling the way his shirt is soaked through with sweat.

Logans panting has subsided by now, breaths no longer crackling besides your ear. He plants mouthy kisses at the juncture of your neck, ever so gently, like a sated wolf nuzzling at the muzzle of his mate. You giggle quietly as those kisses grow fiercer, teeth nipping at your neck.

"my good, great, naughty girl" he murmurs against your skin, voice soft. "you feeling okay sweetheart? sure it wasn't too much?"

You nod and he can feel the enthusiasm seep from the move as you grasp his face again. "Mhm, better than okay. Was perfect" you hum sleeplily, content in his hold, in the scent of him. Your eyes flutter, lashes tickling his cheeks as you kiss him long and deep, until the rub of his beard hurts your face and sleep begins to take you under.

You both know tonight was the culmination of so many fevered dreams. The breaking point of lust and its power that can't be fully expressed in words. So he holds you close- just as you do him in your rest- for a little while longer, until light begins to filter soft through the curtains and the reality of what you'd both done really begins to set in.

thats it!! lemme know what you thought anddddd yea! asks are always open to shoot the shit, drabbles and more! <333

[taketheringtolohac]

i have to name my play 😔

[headspace-hotel]

This year has, so far, been for me a series of rapid realizations of what I have been unlearning.

I went to the library. This was a couple weeks ago. I knew I needed to read a book, fiction. I hadn't done so in over a year and it was the longest period of time I had ever gone without doing so. I made a rule: I would only pick books I had never heard of, by authors I had never heard of, and I would not do any preliminary research or even bother to look at what the book was about. I would make my decision on whether to read or not purely on my impression of the title, cover and opening lines.

The book was The Connoisseur by Evan S. Connell. It was kind of a random selection. I sat down with it in a corner of the library and straight up devoured it. I tore through the book within a few hours, without taking a single break. I was captivated. I couldn't put it down.

It is a book about a guy who buys a Mayan figurine in a knickknack shop while he's on a business trip. and becomes obsessed with pre-Columbian sculptural art. There isn't really much of a plot apart from this. He goes to sketchy antique shows, has conversations with museum curators, wealthy art dealers and forgers, and seeks to learn how to distinguish a genuine pre-Columbian piece from a fake one. It was written in the 1970's, so the views on Native Americans are antiquated and sometimes offensive, and there is the troubling thread of the very concept of looting another culture's treasures and treating them as collectibles, though the book is not without commentary on this.

All the same, it was a completely intoxicating read. The vicarious experience of becoming fascinated with a topic and having it unfold a whole world for you was ferociously gripping, and so was the intrigue of the art collecting world itself. The frauds, forgeries, smuggling, museums, academics, aristocrats, auctions and seedy flea markets. Will he ever be able to tell if a piece is "real?" Does it matter if it's "real?" Why does he want to own and possess a piece of art, and how does its "realness" affect that desire? The book leaves you not knowing what to think.

It is a book about curiosity, portrayed in the narrative as a totally unreasonable lightning bolt that strikes a man who has never been fascinated by anything and changes him forever. Why? Why does a Mayan figurine, in particular, speak to him? Why does any piece of art, or any fascinating thing in the world, speak to anyone? It is unknowable.

I went to the library again. I picked a new book using the same rules. This book was Fragile Beasts by Tawni O'Dell. Just like the last time, I was totally captivated. I couldn't put it down.

Did I have a couple major problems with the portrayal of some important aspects of the story? Yes. (It would make the post much longer to discuss.) Was I completely captured by and invested in the story for the time I was reading it? Also yes. The book braids together several very different strands-- the story of a legendary Spanish bullfighter and a wealthy American woman that he loved, two brothers stuck in an ugly family situation after their father's death in a car accident, and a rich old heir to a Pennsylvania coal mining fortune and to the sinister underbelly of her family's business.

There was a lot about baseball, which I know nothing about, and bullfighting, which I know nothing about, and I certainly don't know anything about being a teenaged boy who resents and mistrusts his estranged mother, or an aristocratic old lady who lives in a mansion and eats fancy Spanish food. It was fun to experience so much unfamiliar stuff and to care about things I wouldn't normally care about. Once again I couldn't stop reading until I had finished it.

I don't know that either book was "good," though I thought they were both well written; I just know that reading them was like being hooked up to an IV of something essential and life-giving and feeling it reanimating my body.

It had been a year since I had read any fiction, but it had been much, much longer since I had loved to read. As I became an adult I had become picky and critical about books, and developed a highly sophisticated sense of my taste and the books I considered good- which were very rare. My taste in books became so sophisticated, eventually, that I didn't like books at all anymore.

I had almost withered away from deficiency of that essential nutrient known as STORY. I'd almost crumbled myself into dust from pretentiousness! I may have been terribly wrong about the kinds of things I liked to read, on top of it. And I certainly hadn't realized that story was such an essential nutrient.

"Just entertainment" the pretentious sorts of people might say of a book they think is useless-- but what is entertainment but to absorb your mind in something, and what is absorbing your mind in a book but to experience things you would never have experienced? It expands you and makes you more complicated. It is the study of human existence itself.

Now all I have been able to think about today is finishing my work and going to the library again...

[sapphicmsmarvel]

tattoo artist azriel

Notes: possibly pervert azriel but y/n’s a pervert too. Dirty lines. This wasn’t gonna be smut but it is now. Sub Azriel but also, he’s a power sub. This derailed so fast. I promise we will go back to the tattoo stuff eventually. Plus size reader. Lots of run on sentences. I can't write smut so I tried my best. 

funny enough this is probably one of the fics that’s nearest to my heart. 

Word count bc this is the longest thing ive ever written at a whopping 4k

Pls listen to motivate by little mix for this. 

-You met each other because your friend worked at a tattoo shop with him. 

-When you walked in the door and saw this man that looked like a greek god standing there you almost bolted in the opposite direction and was going to text your best friend to just meet you outside. 

-You knew about Azriel from your best friend. Kind but introverted. He didn’t talk much aside from jokey comments. But he was a man that your friend had deemed a safe one. You knew he was attractive based on photos, but the first moment you saw him in person, you didn’t expect him to still be so attractive. 

-Little did you know, he also knew about you. 

-He had seen a picture of you because on your friends desk there’s a collage of you and all of your guys’ friends. Anything that gives her motivation in such a touch and go industry. 

-It was a photo where you were laughing at something your friend had said. Mouth fully open, nose scrunched and eyes squinting. 

-He was enamoured with you. Something about you just put him into a trance. He didn’t want to sound like a stalker, because he sure felt like one. But he thought you were really pretty. 

-He got to meet you because you had come to pick your best friend up for lunch. She was finishing up with a client as you sat at the front of the building. 

“You can walk back there with her, you know.” Azriel leaned against the counter.

You shook your head, “nah, I’ll start yapping and oversharing with her client. She doesn’t need that.” 

He chuckled, “I’m Azriel.” 

“I’m Y/n.” You beamed and he felt his heart squeeze. 

-Your best friend interrupted you two ten minutes later to drag you to lunch. He couldn’t help the blush that formed on his face when you waved and smiled with your big pearly whites. 

-After a few months, he got the nerve to ask your best friend about you. He saw you about once a week now to pick your friend up for her lunch break. And every time he tried to work up the nerve to ask you out or ask your friend about you. You guys would chat every single time you saw each other, slowly getting to know each other more. 

-”Hey.” Azriel started. 

“Hey!” Your best friend chirped. “What’s up?” 

“Is Y/N single?” 

She had stopped sketching completely and looked up at him. “Are you serious?” 

“Yeah, I wouldn’t be asking this as a joke.” He blinked in surprise. 

“Azriel, she’s a serious type of girl. She’s not into hookups, and if you break her heart I have a slew of inappropriate things to tattoo on you.” 

His stomach sank, this wasn’t going well. “I’m serious. I really like her, she's funny and cute.” 

“She’s also queer. You need to be okay with that in order for me to let you date her.” She narrowed her eyes at Azriel, vetting him for you. “Oh, that doesn’t bug me. As long as she’s into men right?” He shrugged. 

“In her words, she unfortunately is.” He knew she was testing him. For homophobia, or if he was okay with men-bashing.

Considering he knew he wasn’t the problem, he was totally fine with men-bashing. 

“Lucky for me.” He said determinedly. 

That’s when your friend smiled, and began forming a plan. 

-Your friend through a summer solstice party. It was a bonfire in her backyard. You and Azriel had been briefly seeing each other all night. But at the end, you two were by the fire and began talking. 

-He looked up to your friend's house and saw her give him a big thumbs up. He appreciated the encouragement but he was wigging out. 

-He had brought you two s’mores and a blanket for the cool summer air. 

You two happily munched on the snack, then he decided to get it over with before he threw up into the fire pit. 

He looked over and saw you looked ethereal in the warm hues of orange and yellow as the fire crackled and popped. You had just licked a smudge of chocolate from your thumb. 

He took a deep breath, “Y/N, I have a question.” 

“Oh don’t say it like that. My stomach just fell into my ass.” You said exasperated. Fearing the worst. 

“It’s nothing bad, at least I hope you don't think it is.” He sighed, “will you go on a date with me?” 

“You don’t sound too happy to ask me out.” You laughed nervously. “No! No. I’m just so nervous. You’re really pretty and smart and funny. I've been interested for months.” He’s never been so candid towards someone he’s pursuing, but you are special and have the ability to strip him bare without even trying. 

You smiled, “I want to say yes…” 

“But?” He prompted. “It’s really scary for me to date.” You confessed, nervously biting your lip. “Tell me about it.” He shifted more towards you so he was facing you. “What can I do to make you more comfortable?” 

Your heart turned gooey like the melted chocolate you had just eaten. “It’s really me that’s the problem.” 

“I doubt that.” He said earnestly. 

You huffed a laugh out your nose. “I’ve been on two dates. They both sucked and just made me feel shitty. I don’t like feeling like that. And there’s so much pressure to look good and be this person I don’t know if I am.” You shrugged. “Like putting the best parts of myself and not my whole self.” 

“No offense, but only two? Honestly, you’re really attractive. I was expecting more competition.” He quickly realized how bad ‘only two’ sounded. He didn’t want to accidentally make it seem like he was calling you a ‘slut’. Even if you did sleep around, that didn’t stop him from being interested. 

You shrugged. “Nobody wants to date a queer fat girl because they're insecure.”

That sentence pissed him off on your behalf, however he loved that you knew they were insecure and that you deserved better. 

“I think you’re beautiful.” He said. 

You blushed, “thank you. And I know you mean that.” 

“I do.” He nodded, then he got an idea. “Do you feel shitty right now? Is this feeling like you’re performing?” “No?” You answered with your own question. 

“How about this for our first date?” 

You giggled, “we’ve barely seen each other tonight.” 

“This. Right here by the fire. This can be our first date.” He declared. “No pressure. No performing.” 

It was so cute and sweet, he’s so cute and sweet. 

You couldn’t help your answer. “I’d love that. Let’s schedule a second one?” 

He felt like his chest was about to collapse from happiness.  

-Your second date, he drove his motorcycle to pick you up. He had advised against dresses or skirts and to make sure to bring a jacket. 

You felt your heart race the second you saw this hot piece of ass on a motorcycle with a helmet for you.

-At stop lights he would reach an arm around to stroke your thigh. And while it was very forward, it gave you the courage to run your hands up and down his chest. Your nails lightly grazing his pecs. 

-He was glad the light turned green so he could think about something weird to get his boner to go away. 

-You two ended the night at a rooftop bar that your friend advised him on. You hadn’t been there but she knew you’d love it and you did. 

-The warm summer breeze but there was still a slight chill. The fairy lights, the city lights. The appetizers and drinks. Alcohol for you, non-alcoholic for him. 

-You felt peace with him. Like you aren’t being scrutinized or put on display. You felt more comfortable with him than you felt with most people. 

-And you had only known him for a few months. 

-You felt safe and protected. 

-Once he dropped you back at your place. You didn’t want the night to end which was rare for you. Usually, you couldn’t leave a date fast enough. 

“Can I kiss you?” He asked, he was blushing and nervous. 

“Please do.” You whispered. 

“Trust me, Y/N. You never have to beg when it comes to me.” He confessed before he pulled you to him. 

It was a kiss that made your knees weak. It was intense, it was butterfly inducing. You felt flames in your stomach caress up to your chest. Your chest swooped with adrenaline.  His hands moved from your waist to your cheeks, cupping them as he kissed you deeper. You had kissed others before, you had hookups, but they never made you wet from a simple kiss. 

But this wasn’t a simple kiss. You always thought romance books were incorrect but it was nice to have fantasy. No, this was straight out of fiction. 

You wanted to suck his soul out. You wanted to become so intertwined within each other you wouldn’t know where you ended and he began. 

“Come inside.” You said, pulling away from him, he continued to kiss your neck as you fumbled the keys. 

“This wasn’t my intention by kissing you.” He whispered in between kisses behind your ears. 

Ah ha! You finally got the key into the lock. “Yeah well you got me wet so you’re gonna fix it.” 

He was clearly caught off guard because he snorted a genuine laugh. “It would be my honor.” You finally opened the door. 

The second that door was shut and locked you dropped to your knees. “Y/N.” He hissed. “I was planning on eating you out.” 

“Okay and I’m going to suck your soul out.” You fumbled the zipper.

“Y/N-”

“Azriel I have never wanted to suck a man's dick the way I do yours. Please? Let me?” You made sure to throw on your big puppy eyes and you got him. 

He threw his head back. “I’m not gonna last.” 

“Good.” Your eyes darkened. “Now, unzip your pants for me like a good boy.” 

He sighed, “you’re going to wreck me. But also I’m allowing this because I can’t wait to fuck you till you cry.” 

Oh fuck. Was your only thought as his pants and underwear hit the ground. Causing his cock to spring up and smack his stomach. 

Not only were his words scorchingly hot, but seeing his tattoos up and down his body was a wet dream incarnate. 

He was thick and long. His tip was red and weeping. A fat drop of precum on the tip. 

And he was pierced. He had a jacobs ladder piercing which made you salivate and wonder how it would feel inside you. There was a snake tattoo wrapped around his waist, with its head by his belly button and then the tail ending part way down his left thigh. 

You could not wait to get your tongue on his skin. 

You licked a stripe from his balls to tip. He hissed as your warm mouth enveloped his most sensitive skin. 

You were glad you had blowjob practice before him, his dick hit the back of your throat and you were able to stop yourself from gagging. You could feel he was holding back so you came off of him with a pop. He groaned in annoyance but then somehow felt harder than before when you hoarsely whispered:

“Fuck my throat, Azriel.” 

He swallowed, “tap my thigh if it gets too much.” 

You nodded, smiling. Your swollen lips were a siren’s call. You were practically vibrating to get your mouth on him and be used. 

He grabbed your hair gently, yet firmly and used your mouth like a fleshlight. It was so delightfully filthy it made you grow even wetter.

You’ve never been more happy for a guy to shoot his load down your throat. You swallowed every drop. 

He had a good diet at least because his come didn’t taste like battery acid. 

He shucked off the rest of his pants and pulled you from your knees quickly. He pulled you into a kiss. “Fuck, it should not be so hot to taste myself on your lips.” He murmured between your swollen lips. 

He took off your tank top, showing your sports bra. “Where’s your room?” He said kissing your throat. 

“Down the hallway, the only door on the right.” You whispered huskily. 

“Good, because I’m about to do some multitasking.” He said, then lifted you up as if you weighed nothing. 

“Shit!” You yelped. 

He then dove into your cleavage, however you pulled his head away and ripped your bra off and threw it so he had easy access. He sucked a nipple into his mouth and you moaned. He really did multitask because he began walking to your bedroom. 

“Left of the door against the back wall, is my bed.” You said between gasps. He switched tits. 

You didn't even realize you had moved so fast until your back hit your bed. He ripped his shirt off and you couldn’t help but gaze at his ink. Whorls and delicate lines inked down his chest as if there were shadows caressing his skin. You had seen his arm tattoos constantly and they never failed to take your breath away, but these. 

These were almost as sinful as the snake on his hips. 

He began kissing down your stomach. 

“This isn’t like me.” You whispered as he kissed your chubby stomach. 

“What?”

“I don’t do quick…hookups.” “This isn’t a hookup to me, Y/N.” He nearly growled as he tore your leggings and panties down your legs. You looked down to see him sniff your panties greedily and felt more warmth gush from your cunt. 

“You have no idea what I’ve thought about doing to you.” He said darkly. He grabbed your thighs. “I’m about to make you forget about anybody before me.”

“Well, no one’s gone down on me before so…” You trailed off weakly. 

He shot his head up from kissing your thighs. “What.”

You shrugged, feeling slightly defensive. “No one’s really wanted to.” 

“The day I say I don’t want to eat you out, shoot me. Cause that’s not me.” 

“Well, let’s not go that far-oh!” You yelped as you felt his teeth graze the soft skin of your thigh.

“God, these thighs…” He muttered, biting your thigh gently, causing a sting of arousal to shoot straight to your clit. His warm tongue soothed the light bite marks. 

You moaned. His mouth sucked your clit into his mouth with so much force your back bow3ed off the bed. 

“Fuck.” You cried out. 

He spelled his fucking name in your cunt with his tongue. His teeth ever so slightly grazed against the nub. How he knew you liked some pain you had no idea but you were grateful for such an intuitive partner. 

It didn’t take long for you to get to the crescendo of this symphony. The slurping sounds, his moans as he tastes you, it was enough. 

Your wildest fantasies didn’t live up to this. Your vibrator for once, did not beat the actual act of intimacy. 

He licked you gently as you came down from the high. He crawled up to your face and gave you a sweet kiss where you got to taste yourself. 

“Fuck, you were right. Tasting yourself on your partner's lips is hot.” You sighed. 

He chuckled, “I don’t have condoms, if you even wanted to go that far.” He said sadly. But you knew it was cause he didn’t bring condoms. Not over the fact that you might not want to go that far. 

“Top drawer of the left nightstand.” You whispered. 

He smiled like he was given his favorite candy. He walked over and grabbed it, tearing it open gently with his teeth and rolling it onto his dick. 

“Please tell me if it gets too much, I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“Please fuck me Az.” You begged. 

When he entered you, he thought he was going to bust right there. You were warm and inviting. Then you clenched around him and based on the gleam in your tear filled eyes, you took great pleasure in torturing him. 

“You know, when you’re used to my size I’m going to make you regret that move.” 

“Oh, so you have an ego?” You said and wrapped your legs around his waist. Your heels digging into the meat of his ass. 

But you weren’t fairing well either when it came to self control. He felt so fucking good. His piercings pressed up against each muscle inside of you. Rubbing against your walls so deliciously that your toes were curling. Your eyes filled with tears because the pleasure was so incredibly intense but you wanted more. You were ready to dive headfirst and drown in all things Azriel. 

He deeply, yet gently, thrust into you, hitting that sweet spongy spot inside of you (that nobody has ever hit before) causing you to gasp and arch into him, forcing him deeper. 

Your senses were in overdrive. Skin slapping, moaning, gasping, bed squeaking. Feeling his abs pressed against your soft stomach as your tits we’re pressed against his pecs. His head pressed into your neck as he deeply thrusted in and out of you.  

Neither of you lasted much longer. 

-After intense aftercare and very sweet words. You two decided you were a couple because you were insane for each other even after only two dates. 

-It was incredibly impulsive. But it felt good and felt like he was your forever. That’s when you believed in the saying “when you know, you know.”  

-Once you and Azriel began officially dating and calling each other ‘boyfriend’ and ‘girlfriend’. He put a picture up of you at his station. You were looking at the city lights from a rooftop bar you two had gone to. You were gazing out towards the lights with a sweet smile on your face. Your hair was a mess because you had just gotten off of work and needed drinks and appetizers with your man to decompress. 

-You didn’t even know he had taken it. Which made it more meaningful for him because you weren’t posing or ‘making yourself look nice’. You were real, authentic and gazing at something you loved, the city lights. 

-Your best friend saw it and her heart felt like it grew bigger because she knew you had someone who cared for you. 

-His IPad was filled with drawings of you. Some were able to be shown but a lot were just for his eyes. He couldn’t help it. Your thighs and rolls looked like they were sculpted by Greeks themselves. So delightfully plush. 

-He also dabbles in photography. Either with his phone, polaroid or film camera. He makes you put different lingerie on so he can keep the images of you forever. 

-and jack off while you two are apart from each other. 

-This man is loyal. Not only were you at his station, but there was a polaroid in his phone case of you. That one was a bit more risque and you only allowed it to be taken and put in his phone case because his phone case was black and no one couldn’t see through it. It was just in the back of his phone as a bit of motivation to keep working for his hot girlfriend. He’d pop his phone case off and secretly peek at it. 

-it was you in a dark blue lace corset. You had posed with a hand heart against your chest and a beaming smile. It would be seen as innocent if it wasn’t for the clothes you were wearing and the fact that your nipples were seen through it. Your tits were deliciously pressed up tight against the lace cups. 

-On his lock screen was a blurry photo Feyre had snapped of you two at a party. He was kissing your temple, you were half in his arms. Your arm that was wrapped around his waist and closest to the camera. Except it was flipping off Feyre (the live photo you can hear your laugh and Feyre’s and then the camera pans down because Feyre was caught). Your eye was winking from the force of Azriel’s kiss on your temple. Your smile was wide and you were clearly laughing. 

-He stopped letting clients take their clothes off for placement tattoos. Even if in some cases it could be easier to tattoo a cleavage with the person's top off, he won’t do it. -He feels bad enough that his arms have to rest on their chest. 

-The only tits he wants to see are yours. 

-You find it hysterical that so many people fall for your man. It was a bit of masochism in your case, enjoying flaunting the fact that this God of a man was taken and happily invested in you. 

-It helped that your man was totally fine with you being a weirdo. 

-One time he bent over in front of you and you just, “I want to bite your ass.” 

“I mean, you can.” 

-You’ve tied bows around his biceps and taken a picture. You loved that photo because not only does this big buff tattooed man have a little pink bow wrapped around his biceps but there's also red kiss marks all over his arm. 

-That photo alone could get you off. 

-You’re a big fan of marking your territory. You keep red lipstick in your bag just to give him a kiss on his neck or anywhere where anybody could see it. Just to mark your territory. 

-He eats it up. Like “yes that’s my lady, yes she’s hot. and she’s all mine and i’m all hers.” 

-Usually leads to you two fucking in the bathroom. 

-He is your good boy but can also choke you the fuck out. 

“Come on, take it like a good girl.”

“Use your words, baby. I can’t decipher your babbling.” As he overstimulates you with his tongue and a vibrator. 

-He’d happily be used as your personal toy. 

-You sneak photos of him tattooing clients, it’s just so hot to see him so focused and into his job. 

-He definitely offered to tattoo you but you kept declining, then he designed a beautiful sleeve design that incorporated all of your favorite books for your one year anniversary. 

-So you got that sleeve done. 

-It was one of the only parts of your body that had ink. You were a baby with pain but it was satisfying too. The only way you sat through for a sleeve is all the kisses Azriel gave you. 

-He was never the type to like partner tattoos but he gets it with you. He has a heart with your first initial on his right ring finger as a promise to put a real ring on his left ring finger that also belongs to you. 

-At tattoo conventions, tons of artists always want to meet him. You try to encourage them to go talk to him because let’s face it, Azriel is intimidating to just walk up to. His art style is very recognizable and people love him. 

-You’re known as the Shop Sweetheart. Not only does your boyfriend work there but so does your best friend. It’s common that you drop coffee or food off if the team is working late. 

-He treated you like a queen. Nobody had ever treated you so kindly yet also messed with you like a best friend would.

-Peace and love to your girl best friend. But this man was your partner in crime and in love.