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abbeym28 · 3 months

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Clarisse x Reader - This is a Life

Clarisse x gn! reader

Reader is from the Aphrodite cabin, but only for the plot!

An- Around 3.3k words, sorry it took so long to get out! Hope you guys enjoy this! Let me know if I should write something that kind of does more of a deep dive into this, because I feel like something is missing or something

Warnings- Weapons, fake dating, blood at one point, affection, petnames, guy named Andrew (apologies to any one named Andrew), Aphrodite is a pretty okay mom in this. Pls tell me if I missed anything!

Everybody in camp recognized you as the favored child of Aphrodite. People looked twice when you walked by, flowers bloomed in your direction, and mirrors wished they could reflect you.

Clarisse is the favored daughter of her dad, Ares. People feared her, flowers looked away as she passed, and only a select few could stand to be close to her.

But even those who were close kept a great distance.

That was what was similar between the favorite Aphrodite kid and the favorite Ares daughter.

But even that was comparable, for she was a daughter, and a daughter could never compare to a son in her fathers eyes, whilst your mother seems to love you unconditionally.

You and Clarisse weren't close by any means, but you had always caught each other's attention on some level.

For you, it was how she sparred. Muscles flexing, covered in sweat, and a wild and free grin spread across across. You could find beauty in her that was no wheres else in the camp.

For her, it was the way you held yourself and how you were with young campers. Your slight confidence, the care you have for each camper, and the way you treat others. It was admirable, considering the way that Clarisse was probably the opposite of you.

“-risse, Clarisse, Clarisse!” Clarisse brook out of the slight stupor she was in and looked across the table where her sibling was calling her name and waving his hand around. “Oh, thank the gods. I about almost called over an Apollo kid to check on you.” She rolled her eyes as he laughed a bit.

They were in the dining hall, for it was lunch. Her plate was still quit full as she looked down at it. She was hungry, but she felt as if there was something preventing her from eating.

“Hey, would you look at that.” Her brother was looking past, his eyes holding questions. She turned her head to look over her shoulder and scoffed. There you were, holding your tray and standing talking to Percy Jackson, who was sitting alone at his Poseidon camp table.

That Capture the flag game happened a while ago now, but it was still upsetting how many people still like that kid, even after what he did, although it makes sense with all of the things he has done.

Her grip on her fork tightened, and she glared hard in your direction. Her brother snorted. “You really like them, huh?” She whipped her head back to look at him.

“What? Who?” She softened just slightly after he said your name. “Where did you get that idea?”

“The way you two look at each other. There's a rumor going around that you two are secretly dating each other, but we all know that you would never.”

“Never what?”

“Date anyone. Especially them.” She scoffed again.

“What do you mean?”

“You're not… an emotional person. Everyone knows you couldn't even make a relationship actually work.” She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Fine then.” She slammed her hands against the table and got up, making her way over to you. Percy noticed her first and scrambled to sit up straighter and to not smile. You raised your eyebrow at him, but he nodded his head in Clarisse’s direction and you laughed a little.

“Hey Claris-” you lifted one of your hands up to wave, but once she was close enough she took that hand in hers and then wrapped her other arm around your waist, pulling you towards her in a kiss.

The whole camp seemed to go quiet, and while it wasn't the most emotional kiss, Clarisse was very passionate in how she was kissing you, it was overwhelming to say the least. Your tray dropped, spilling food all over the ground and making a loud crash. Your hand found its way to the back of her neck and you gently tugged on her curls and twirled some of the baby hairs at her nape around your fingers. She broke off the kiss, looking you right in your eyes as you were flustered and tried to reclaim your breath.

“Um, what the-'' Percy began, but before anything else was said Clarisse tugged on your hand and ran towards the forest with you.

“Clarisse, what was that a-”

“Date me.” She blurted out the words before her mind could tell her to not to.

“What- this is super out of the blue, even for you Clarisse!” Clarisse rolled her eyes.

“We can fake dates then. Just for a few months or so.”

“How is that even relevant?!?!”

“If we fake date, then none of it will be real. And then, I get to prove something, and you…well, I can make sure people dont bother you.” You narrowed your eyes at her.

“But why?” Clarrise sighed deeply and your eyebrows furrowed more.

“Look, people already think we are dating, my sibling thinks I could never be in a relationship, and I don't hate you. Much.” She then looked you up and down in a way that almost made you wish that you were invisible.

“Now, how well can you act?”

The shock of the century happened at camp Half Blood the next morning at breakfast when Clarrise showed up with you attached to her arm. Jaws were on the floor and every table was turned towards your direction.

Clarisse had a proud smirk on her face as she survived the dining hall. Some part of you also felt weirdly proud as well, as if having your arm intertwined with hers was the reason you were at this camp anyway.

She moved you in the direction of the Ares table, an arrangement the two of you had settled on while setting up rules and guidelines. You would sit with her at her table, at least come to most of her training sessions and sit next to her at the bonfires. She would visit the strawberry fields and lake with you, join the craft classes you have with young campers, and on occasions, she would allow you to place a kiss on her while wearing lipstick or lip gloss, making sure to leave a mark.

You both also agreed on minimal kissing, which was a shame since she was a good kisser. Any other types of touches were pretty much guaranteed if the two of you were near each other.

“Goodmorning.” Clarisse greeted the rest of the table, untangling her arm from yours before setting her tray on the table and then sitting down. You did the same, and in an instant, Clarrise wrapped her arm around your waist, situating her hand on your stomach comfortably. You scratched a bit closer to her so your thighs were touching.

A chorus of morning greetings left various peoples mouths and Clarisse hummed a bit. She reached for a bag of apple slices and ripped open the small bag with the help of her teeth. You giggled a bit and nudged her side.

“Honey, that was kind of weird. You know you could've just let go of me, right?” She stared into your eyes mischtifully.

“You lost me at let go.”

It took everything in you to not burst out laughing as a few people around you literally gagged. She winked at you and you grinned at her before the two of you each turned back to your breakfast.

Your chin sat on both of your palms as you sat in the stands right outside of the training grounds, watching as Clarisse took on another camper in a dual. Capture the flag was coming up in about a week, but despite that, many people have come up to you asking if the news that had spread around camp was true.

“Hey, babe, did you see that?” Clarisse was jogging over to you, a smile on her lips. You smiled back at her and once she was close enough moved to stand between your legs, her hands trailed up your thighs lightly before they landed on your waist. You tried your best to ignore the shiver that went through your body.

“I missed it. I’m sorry hun.” You put one of your hands on her shoulder while you fiddled with one of her strands of curls with the other. She let out a breathe, and you could almost swear she was pouting.

She leaned in closer, her lips almost touching your ear. “You're doing good, yeah?” she whispered.

“Yeah.” you whispered back. She moved a little bit back and smirked.

“Good. You keep doin’ that, 'kay sweetheart?” she patted your thigh twice before turning and running back to her training. Your heart skipped one to many times during that interaction.

Please Mother, let me survive this.

The next week and a half went pretty much like that, with you and Clarisse glued to each other's sides for the entirety of the day. She was even somehow able to convince Chiron to put the Aphrodite cabin on the red team.

You were with Clarisse now, getting ready for the capture the flag game. Your armor sat heavily on your shoulders as you did your best to fix all of the straps while following your “girlfriend” and listening to her bark out orders and plans.

Some of your siblings were grouped together all complaining about how much stuff they had to do compared to when they were on the blue team, but you knew that some of them were grateful that Clarisse knew that they were capable to do things that the other cabins could do.

Clarisse looked behind her where you were still struggling with your armor. She sighed and moved closer to you. She carefully took your hand in hers and then tighten your straps so that way it was secure. You watch her face the whole time, finding the way she furrowed her eyebrows in concentration to be quite cute.

“There. You ready to do this?” She looked up, pausing when her eyes met your. The two of you stared at each other for a moment before your eyes flickered to the ground, or at least any wear that wasn't her face.

“Yeah, I am. What did you want me to do again?” She huffed out a laugh and then moved past you.

“All you need to do sweetheart is to follow me.”

Even though you were out of breath, you continued to follow your fake girlfriends footsteps.

Well, it wasn't like you had much of a choice with how tightly she was holding your hand and tugging you along paths.

Out of nowhere, a group of people from the blue team jumped out of the trees and began to attack. Clarisse let go of your hand and brought out her spear, running forward and taking on two people at once.

You took out your provided sword and prayed that your trainings with Clarisse would pay off. Your sword clashed with the sword of a boy from the Hermes cabin, and you recognized him as a guy named Andrew, someone who used to follow you around and flirt with you before you and Clarisse became a temporary item.

“I’ve been wondering if I could even get you alone.” Andrew backed you away from the rest of the group and more into the trees.

“I have a girlfriend, Andrew.” You made sure your voice was stable and hard. You hoped you could get your point across to him, but this is the guy who couldn't take a hint from you before, so it was evident that he wasn't going to start now.

“Come on, everyone knows that you like me. We can tell that Clarisse pressured you into the relationship. The two of you weren't meant to be.” You tripped over a root, sending you falling, hitting the ground hard and hurting your back in the process.

“Me and you were meant to be together. Couldn't you see that I was flirting with you? ‘Cause I could see that you returned the feelings with how you flirted with me.” Your eyes flickered for any type of escape from his anger and jealousy, but there was no safe way out with how he was practically sitting on your stomach. It made you sick with how close his face was to yours.

“Well,” you carefully moved your hand to twirl a longer strand of his hair between your fingers. It was straight, especially compared to Clarisse’s. You tried to ignore how wrong this felt, and you tried to push away the urge to gag. If using the charm you had gotten from your mother would get you out of this, then so be it. “I had no idea you felt like that, sweety. What can I do to make it up to you?”

Charmspeak wasn't against the rules. After all, this was the gift that was given to you from your godly parents.

You watched as his eyes followed your hand as you began to softly caress his face.

This has to be one of the most disgusting things you have ever done.

“So you do like me! I knew th-” Andrew stopped his sentence as his eyes rolled to the back of his head and he flopped off of you to the side. You jumped up, finding yourself in front of your savior.

“Clarisse! You knocked him out! Is that even aloud?!” Clarisse laughed and poked Andrew with the none sharp end of her spear.

“He deserved it. Easiest decision of my li…” you stopped trying to wipe off all of the dirt that had resided on your clothes to raise your eyebrow at her Clarisse.

She was staring at you, her mouth slightly open and an almost entranced look in her eyes.

Was there dirt on your face? Did you somehow use your charmspeak on her?

“Um, Clarisse, maybe we should-'' Before you could finish your sentence, Clarisse had brought her left hand up and gently slid her thumb over your cheek bone.

You guessed that you had gotten a small cut there, and from the small flash of red that appeared and her thumb, you guessed that you were right. She moved it away a bit, and then she pushed back a strand of hair that had begun to obstruct your vision. She kept her hand there then, and you brought up your hand to touch her wrist, a grounding move for you were starting to feel light headed. You stared into eachothers eyes, and what broke you apart was the flinching sound of the games ending conch shell horn.

The blue team had won, another year in a row.

Clarisse sighed and ended the contact, moving away and bending down to pick up your discarded sword. She put it in your hands.

“You weren’t too bad out there. And, you, huh, you looked, um pretty good too.” She nodded, cleared her throat and turned away from you, heading back down the trail, but not before using her foot to push Andrew out of the way more.

For some reason, that was the moment you finally realized how in love you were with your fake girlfriend.

That night, your mother appeared in your dreams for the first time. Sitting on the wood pierre that was feet above the water, with moon light reflected off the liquid, Aphrodite appeared in front of you. With curly brown hair and brown eyes, and that tanned skin that you could swear you had begun to memorize, your mom looked different from what you expected.

“I appear as what you are attracted to,” Aphrodite nudged your shoulder from where she sat beside you. She seemed to respond to what you were thinking. “For you, that's that girlfriend of yours.”

“Fake girlfriend. We aren't really dating.” Aphrodite laughed in a way that made your heart beat a bit faster. That laugh belonged to someone who now had your heart.

“Could… could you switch to look like someone else? This is kind of unnerving to me.” She laughed again and shook her head.

“I can't be here for long, my child.” She change the subject.

“Then why are you here?”

“You're in love somehow. I know that you probably wouldn't tell her without some sort of push.”

You stared at her. She was practically glowing, the sear fabric that was draped on her body floating.

“Hearts aren't meant to hurt, hunny. If you distance yourself, or try to break away from her and move on, then two hearts will get hurt.”

Silence fell over the two of you, just for a moment.

“Mom?”

“Yes?”

“Am I… am I really your favorite? I mean, other people say that, but you've never given me a gift, and I haven't been on a quest, and this is the first time I've even met you. I just-”

“There are many of you, and I have love for each of you and your siblings. But yes, it could be said that I am very proud of you, and what you have accomplished.” Tears started to fill your eyes, though you weren't sure exactly why you were crying.

“Goodbye, my dear.” She softly pressed a kiss to your cheek.

And with that, your mother was gone once again.

Tears were running down your face once you woke up.

You moved off your blankets and got up moving towards the cabin's front doors. It was almost pitch black, and it was easy to tell that it was still night. Maybe just sitting out on the porch and thinking would do you some good.

But right when you were a few steps away, the door started to crack open.

Your mind jumped to many conclusions, like there was a ghost or one of your siblings had stayed out late with their partner. Then you caught sight of the hand that was pushing on the wood.

It was the same hand that has intertwined with yours, the same hand that had held onto your body all week. The same hand that you had seen wielding a sword for years.

“Clarisse?” The door stopped opening, and then Clarisse poked her head through the opening.

She whispered your name back, and you took note about how this was the most sheepish you had ever witnessed her to be. She backed up, and you went out of your cabin to join her.

“Hey.” she whispered.

“Hi.” you whispered back. “What's wrong?” You could swear that her hand twitched in the slightest, like she was about to reach out and hold yours but thought better.

“I, um, had a nightmare. You were the only place I could think to go to. It’s fine now though, so you should go back inside and get your beauty sleep.” She turned away from you, starting to go down the steps back to her cabin.

“Do you like me?” She stood still on the second step down. You walked towards her slowly, and you started to wish you had brought a blanket out with you. The night chill was starting to get to you, and you were starting to wish that you had that type of safe feeling.

“My, um, my mother visited my dreams tonight. And we talked, and I know that we havent really been dating, but i kike you Clarisse, and I kind of hoped, only if you want, if we could kind of be offic-”

A pair of lips crashed into yours before anything else happened. The passion from the first kiss that the two of you had shared was there still, but this time something felt so much more real.

You felt so many emotions, and so did Clarisse, and you knew that she was trying to convey them all to you like this.

Both of her hands were on your face, each one gently holding your cheeks so you could stay in place. Your hands were on her wrists, but you moved them to the back of her neck where you gently tugged on her curls. You smiled into the kiss.

Her hair would always be your favorite.

Clarisse pulled away from the kiss, and laughed when she saw your eyes were still closed. You glared at her a little, but your smile was still present on your face.

“I do.” Clarisse said. You hummed and tilted your head in confusion. Clarisse laughed again a bit.

“I do like you.” Somehow your smile got even bigger.

“So we can kiss anytime now?”

“Anytime, sweetheart.”

#clarisse la rue #pjo #pjo x reader #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse pjo #clarisse x reader

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fvckingwolfstar · 6 months

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You Forgive Me Yet?

pairing: top! Hozier x fem! reader

summary: he teases you and makes it up to you

genre: smut 18+

word count: 837

cw: the slightest bit of exhibitionism, teasing, calling him an asshole, oral (f! receiving), begging if you squint, bickering

author’s note: a shorter one that i might make a part two to! Also this video makes me s(cream), wanted to share.

smut under the cut

“Almost ready?” Andrew calls, fixing his hair in the mirror.

You finish your makeup and pull up your dress to sit right on your chest, “Yeah, I’m done,” you say, walking to the door to slip on your shoes. He follows you and kisses your head softly.

“The restaurant is always crowded, so I don’t think anyone will recognize us,” he hums, wrapping your jacket around you. “Lets go, love.”

You nod and take his arm, walking out to the car with him. He drives to the restaurant, the two of you humming along to the radio and chatting. When you arrived to the restaurant the two of you were seated almost immediately. You were sat beside each other in a booth, some of his friends in the booth beside you.

As you ordered your food, he reaches over and puts his hand on your thigh. You don’t really notice, he does that all the time, but when his hand starts making it’s way to the hem of your dress, your breath gets caught in your throat, so you cough to distract from it.

Andrew’s large hand creeps further up your thigh, before landing at the crease between your thigh and your hip. You choke a bit on your water as it gets there. His slender fingers tease over your aching core as you try to keep your composure and make small talk with the people beside you. As you keep up this act, you can feel Andrew’s eyes boring a hole into you.

Your fork clatters to the table as he slips his fingers under your underwear.

“You alright, y/n?” he asks, feigning concern.

“Yeah, yeah I’m okay,” you say, picking up your fork up again. A blush creeps from your face to under your dress as he rubs your clit at a snail’s pace.

He continues teasing you, killing you from the inside until the end of dinner. You’ve been on the edge of coming for at least ten minutes, and he’s refusing to help you at all. After the dinner, the two of you walk to your car in silence. When your both inside you turn to him, “What the fuck, Byrne?” I ask angrily.

“What’re you talking about, love?” He asks obliviously. He steers the way home with one hand on the wheel and another returned to your thigh. You can see a hint of a smirk resting on his lips

“You fucked with me all night, you dick!”

He chuckles softly, “Oh, that?”

“‘Oh, that?’” You mock, “Asshole, you’re making this up to me when we get home.”

“How do you suggest I do that?”

“You’ll fucking figure it out if you want me to forgive you,” He chuckles lowly and pulls into the driveway.

He gets out first and goes to open your door. His hand in yours he leans down to kiss your cheek, “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll make it up to you,” you get that fluttering feeling in your stomach when he does that. You try to hold back a smile as he pulls you inside, peppering kissing on you as he does.

Once inside, he closes the door, pushing you up against it, “I’ve been wanting you since we got up this morning,” he hums against your neck, nipping at it playfully. You lean your head back, moaning at the sensation.

He kisses down your body until he’s kneeling in front of you. He pushes your dress up and kisses your thighs, “Is this okay?” you nod frantically and pull the elastic out of his hair quickly. He chuckles as you shake his waves out with your hands and take a hold of it. He sucks hickies into your thighs, pressing soft kisses to them as he finishes each one.

He kisses your clit softly through your underwear before hooking his fingers in the waistband. He pulls them down slowly and mumbles, “So pretty,” he kisses your lower stomach, making his way to your heat. His strong hands grip your hips, keeping you in place as he teases you with his tongue.

“You teased me already today, you asshole,” you whine, gripping his hair tighter, “please, just do it.”

He dives in, sucking your clit into his mouth. He groans against it, making you buckle against the door. He holds you against the door with more force, licking slowly strips against it. He rotates from sucking, to slow stripes, to flicking it quickly with his tongue. All the movements and changes making you tear up slightly from the stimulation. Your grip tightens on his hair and he whines softly against you.

You shake as you come on his face. He continues his ministrations before you pull him off by his hair. He leans back on his calfs and looks up at you, he lips wet and red and his eyes glinting. “You forgive me yet?”

You chuckle tiredly and lean down to kiss him softly, “Yes, but you’re still an ass.”

He shrugs, “I can live with that.”

#hozier #hozier big hands #hozier oneshot #hozier smut #rpf #hozier smut oneshot #smut #hozier live #hozier x reader

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don-lichterman · 2 years

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The Tuning Fork Birthday Series Announced - Arab Strap, Methyl Ethel, Tiny Ruins + More

The Tuning Fork Birthday Series Announced – Arab Strap, Methyl Ethel, Tiny Ruins + More

Occupying a cosy nook in downtown Tāmaki Makaurau next to Spark Arena, The Tuning Fork are celebrating their ninth birthday in early June with a jam-packed lineup of international and local music and comedy mega-talents. A five course banquet of headline events, the Birthday Series stars Scottish indie icons Arab Strap, Tiny Ruins with special guest Finn Andrews (The Veils), Perth producer /…

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#Arab Strap #Daffodils #Finn Andrews #Frickin Dangerous Bro #Methyl Ethel #The Tuning Fork Birthday Series Announced - Arab Strap #Theres A Tuesday #Tiny Ruins #Tiny Ruins + More #Tuning Fork

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eloquent-apollo · 11 months

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The foxes play a game called “how much shit can we throw at Kevin until he wakes up”

A comprehensive list of things the foxes have thrown, without waking up Kevin:

A book by Nicky

A pillow by Allison

His entire backpack, with books and laptop inside dropped on Kevin’s back as he slept by Matt

An exy ball by Dan

Four pens by Neil

A shoe by Aaron

His phone by Andrew (Andrew has a nokia confirmed)

A fork by Renee

Two forks by Nicky

A spoon by Allison

Nicky’s marketing homework by Aaron

Aaron’s biology homework by Nicky

The game, unfortunately, abruptly ended when Andrew pulled a knife out of his armbands, and Kevin was woken up by a chorus of “ANDREW NO!” (Dont worry, Andrew wasn’t actually going to throw it)

#aftg #all for the game #andreil #kevin day #michaels silly hcs I guess #sorry this came to me out of nowhere and I thought it was hilarious idc #dan wilds #andrew minyard #matt boyd #aaron minyard #seth gordon #allison reynolds #nicky hemmick #renee walker #neil josten

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simmireen · 4 months

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SANTAREEN DAY TWENTY FOUR ♥ it's the little things that count ♥ Yes, it's really the last day :(

'love is ...’ 15 domestic/daily little love moments ♥ DOWNLOAD (SFS) DOWNLOAD (Patreon) (always free!) You need: Mug Phone Newspaper / included Fork/Knife Open Door V3 Frying pan/Spatula Toothbrush Open book

♥~♥

The poses work with Teleport any Sim and Andrew’s Pose Player The posepack is as usual provided with previews. These poses are somewhat gender-neutral, but there can be minor clipping or floating because every sim-body is different. I really would like to see if you use my poses! So tag me at tumblr, instagram or twitter (@simmireen) You can find an overview of all my posepacks at Pinterest You can support me on my Ko-Fi page > but never feel obliged to tip! Terms of use Don’t claim as yours or put behind a paywall Don’t re-edit (adjusting hands is always allowed, just don’t change up my pose) Don’t reupload anywhere Oh, and please let me know if something doesn’t work! @ts4-poses @sssvitlanz @alwaysfreecc

#posepack #simmireen #thesims4 #ts4cc #ts4poses #ts4 #ts4-poses #posemaker #sims4poses #sims4 #sims4cc #sims 4 #sims 4 gameplay #sims 4 cc #the sims community #the sims 4 #alwaysfreecc #adventcalender

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bipanicoverthegravessiblings · 2 months

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can you make a little fanfic about andrew being a fucking yandere? or hc's? i beg youu

Well since you begged <3

TW: Kidnapping, Starvation, Forced kiss, also- Yandere shit so be weary y’all

Yandere!Andrew Graves x Reader

Truly, you don’t know how things got like this

Your stomach churned with hunger, so much you feared it would start eating itself if you didn’t eat anything soon

Though you didn’t trust what he would bring you

The cold chains digging into the skin of your wrists was a good reminder of what trusting him brought you

If you had the energy, you would chew through the piece of cloth he gagged you with. Spit it out and scream for help

But- that wouldn’t end well for you

He made that clear last time…

“Relax beloved…” his voice was so calm as he circled you, the only indication of his anger being how white his knuckles were from clenching his cleaver, “I’m not gonna kill you..”

You wished he would. You wished he would slit your throat with that fucking thing and finally release you from this torture you’d endure for a week now. But no…you were his beloved. He would never harm his beloved, not unless they deserved it.

Harm, but never kill. Fucking psychopath.

Your attempt had been utterly futile, having managed to wiggle the Christmas lights tying you to the pole- leaving you to slink away like a slug in an attempt to get away. Andrew had come down to investigate the noise, where he found your pathetic slug ass on the floor, crying with fear.

He knelt down beside you, taking your chin in his hand.

“Awww…sweetie…” his voice was sickeningly sweet, like he was trying to provide you with comfort. If you weren’t gagged, you would’ve bit him. He helped you sit up, you flinched under his touch, “Why do you resist me? I’m helping you..”

He wiped your tears with his sweater sleeve, though your eyes were fixated on his cleaver- prepared to duck if he used it. Andrew wouldn’t use it if you didn’t give him a reason to, he’s exclaimed multiple times your first few days here.

He cupped your cheek in his right hand, you tilted your head into it instinctively. He had done this so many times before…

Before he showed you what he was like..

Andrew leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead. His lips felt cold, sharp- taking away any tenderness he could provide to you.

“I’ll let you off either a warning this time…but if you try this again…” he roughly grabbed his chin, pulling your face close to his. He glared at you, his green eyes filling you with nothing but fear as his true intentions were clear behind them, “I won’t be so nice..”

You nodded the best you could with how he was holding you. He was satisfied with that, his expression changing on a dime to that of adoration.

“That’s it.” Andrew kissed your forehead again, releasing your chin, “Come on…let’s get you back to your spot, I’ve picked up something that’s a bit….heftier to prevent something like this from happening again.”

You lost track of how long you’d been here now

Realistically, it was probably a couple of weeks

But it felt more like years

You perked up, hearing footsteps at the top of the stairs- and then the faint sound of a lock clicking

Fear coursed through you. The pole you were tied to was just far back enough that the railing blocked the top of the staircase- but you knew the footsteps anywhere

In your time living in the basement of the Graves house, you’d memorize the two sets of footsteps that visited you: Andrew, and his little sister, Ashley.

More often than not, Andrew would visit you- Ashley only did once a day to feed you- so it was a safe bet to assume it was him before you memorized Ashley’s somehow heavier steps.

Andrew’s were light, like he’d have practice not drawing attention to himself while walking

He maneuvered down the stairs slowly, his frame slowly coming into your view. He carried two plates in his hands, each with a fork set upon the conglomerate of spaghetti noodles piled on top of it.

His eyes met yours, and he gave you a smile. A warm smile.

You hated that smile

“Evening beloved.” He greeted you, striding over to your bounded self. He set a plate down in front of you, “Dinner time! Tonight’s meal is pasta, I thought I’d eat with you.”

He seated himself across from you, leaning forward- his hands going behind your head. Fear flashed through your eyes, but his poisoned touch left as he removed your gag.

You could scream. You wanted to scream. So, so badly. But he was right there. Scrawny as he was, he had the energy and upper hand against you to silence you…permanently.

So you clamped your mouth shut, which made Andrew frowned.

“Aww, come on sweetie..” he twirled some of your pasta on to the fork, “You need to eat.”

His face went dark as his sickly green eyes stared holes through your wide, teary eyes.

“I know you haven’t been eating what Ashley brings you.”

Your muscles tensed, and you did the foolish thing of opening your mouth a little with surprise for him noticing. He took that moment to thrust the fork into your mouth. You gagged on it, the prongs poking the back of your throat. You didn’t want to eat this, but Andrew retracted the fork and took your jaw in his hand. He manually made you chew, the noodles felt heavy in your mouth. Before you knew it, the cursed nutrients flowed down your throat and into your empty stomach. Andrew gave you a satisfied smile.

“There we go..” he released your jaw, picking up the fork again, “Come on, I want this plate cleaned.”

Each time he forced the food into your mouth, you wanted to vomit. You didn’t trust any of this. You have no idea what he laced this with, but the paranoia was already making your stomach ache. The plate was soon cleaned, and the feeding stopped.

Thank god, you would’ve said if you were coughing on pasta. You inhaled sharply, suddenly you were silence again- although not by the usual cloth you’d grown used to.

Andrew’s lips crashed into yours, his hands cupping your face to stop your squirming to try and get away. You screamed into his mouth, demanding to be released. Your teeth met his, saliva shared between you as he opened his own- then..

“OW!”

Andrew hissed, moving away and bringing a hand to his mouth. You had bitten his tongue…hard.

What were you thinking?

Cold terror filled your body as you struggled against the chains- and suddenly your mouth felt the familiar taste of the cloth gag. Andrew tied it tight around you, his eyes flashing with fury.

“Well…someone’s in a mood..” he grumbled, standing up and taking his plate with him. He glared down at you, “Look at all I’ve done for you? I’m protecting you!”

He clenched his plate- you could tell he wanted to throw it at you.

“You know how many people out there want to hurt you? Want to mistreat you?” His words felt like daggers, “You may not understand it…but I love you. And I’m doing this because I love you..”

Andrew turned on his heel, heading over to the stairs. He placed his free hand on the railing, glaring back at you.

“Happy 1 month beloved…” was all he left you with as he stormed up the stairs- the singular lightbulb in the basement being turned off, covering you in darkness.

You didn’t sleep that night

You sobbed into your gag until it felt gross in your mouth

A month ago, you had met a sweet boy in the library

He was browsing the poetry section, rambling to you about the underrated works of Edgar Allen Poe

He was so sweet

He was so caring

….maybe in a twisted way he still was.

#the coffin of andy and leyley #andrew graves #andrew graves x reader #x reader #tw yandere #tw kidnapping

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jtl-fics · 1 year

Text

Fluent Freshman - Part 13

“I can’t believe you would go out on Black Friday to grocery shop but I guess thanks for going out on Black Friday to grocery shop.” Aaron greets him with as FF moves over to the table.

Andrew and Captain Neil had apparently went out shopping.

Andrew and Captain Neil had apparently come back and have been in Andrew’s room for the past couple hours.

“Josten probably wanted to go to Excites for some gear. I don’t know what my brother sees in that Exy-obsessed jerk.” Aaron says as he eats his own smiley eggs and bacon. FF hears the sound of a hammer and a drill from Andrew’s room.

Heart in his throat he forces himself not to think about what Andrew and Captain Neil COULD be building.

(A guillotine, an iron maiden, that weird wedge thing that splits people in half at the groin, He should NOT have taken that Spanish history class. Oh god it’s probably a fence so he can’t escape whatever hunting ground Andrew is going to drag him to if he can’t buy his continued existence via baked good.)

“Shut up, they’re actually really sweet to one another.” Nicky chastises before turning to FF, “Because of that your final serving goes to Smithy. He deserves it more than you.” Nicky says and slides the final plate of eggs and bacon.

“He’s just as bothered by it as I am!” Aaron scowls.

“By what?” FF asks because there are a lot of things that bother him so Aaron is going to have to be more specific.

“By those two being all close. I’ve seen the way you turn and walk away.” Aaron reaches across the table for his bacon but FF just pushes the plate closer to him. The two plates he had already eaten were more than enough, especially after the full dinner that they’d had the night before. “You’re grossed out by it too right?” He asks as he goes to stab the bacon.

FF slides the plate away and Aaron stabs the table.

FF is NOT HOMOPHOBIC.

His gran raised him better than that.

“I don’t agree with you.” He says because he doesn’t but can’t bring himself to say anymore. He’s in Aaron’s house, he stole Aaron’s keys that morning to lock up the house.

(it was so rude but what if someone broke in because he left the house unlocked? What if someone got hurt just because he wanted to ensure his own survival? Isn’t it better that he just borrowed Aaron’s keys to make sure that no one in the house got hurt? Does FF still believe with every fiber of his being that Andrew Minyard is trying to murder him in this exact house? Yes. Can these concerns coexist peacefully? Also yes.)

If anything he finds Captain Neil and Andrew to be an incredibly nice couple. They talk about things together, they make plans about their future, their PDA was actually pretty minimal (especially in comparison to Aaron), and he had figured out the weird code Andrew talked in so he was pretty sure that Andrew and Neil loved one another.

The only issue he has with the couple is that they are out at a store probably buying supplies to torture and then kill FF.

Otherwise they were perfectly fine.

Aaron scowls, “You can’t be serious. You walk away faster than you run on the court when you see the two of them getting all gross.” He points with his fork and tries to grab the bacon again.

FF frowns deeper.

“I walk away even faster from you and your girlfriend.” He returns because Aaron and Katelyn are the couple who have been the MOST guilty of initiating something in front of him when he was in ‘Visible only when the sunlight strikes him at the exact right angle on the summer solstice’ mode.

He had tried to clear his throat to get them to quit quite a few times but…well…he has heard Katelyn mention that one of her and Aaron’s favorite ‘hang out’ spots might be haunted….so he hadn’t been overly successful.

“PDA makes me uncomfortable in general. Captain Neil and Andrew are a very nice couple who you shouldn’t talk bad about.” He defends as one of the only people who would know exactly how thoughtful the two were to one another.

He hopes his Gran is proud of him for saying something.

Aaron looks at him with a twisted mouth for a while before relenting, “Fine they’re not that bad. It’s just a big brother thing.” Aaron rolls his eyes.

FF swallows down some acid in his throat and pushes the smiling eggs and bacon over to Aaron who smiles back at the breakfast and proceeds to eat it.

A big brother thing.

FF gets up and heads over to the final bag that Andrew had left out on the counter. FF had bought some additional offerings for his mortal soul to tide Andrew over while he made the brownies. It’s also where the incense and his latest two five hour energies should still be.

He finds the incense, wonders if he hallucinated the five hour energies (very possible), and hands Nicky a box of sour patch kids to distract him when he comes over.

“Smithy, why the hell are you lighting incense?” Nicky asks because the sour patch kids were NEVER going to be enough to distract Nicky. That would take something on the level of Swedish Fish but he’d been more focused on avoiding the candy thrown by an irate woman towards a member of Target staff because the grocery department couldn’t get her the redemption coupon for one of the flat screens in the Electronic department so he had FAILED to procure them. He’d even seen a box sail through the air is bullet time because his brain was too hopped up on Five Hour Energy but he’d let it go believing he could just grab a box at check out. THEN HE ZONED OUT IN THE CHECK OUT LINE AS HE STARED AT BOTH THE FUTURE AND THE PAST AND FORGOT HE WAS IN THE PRESENT WHERE HE HADN’T GOTTEN THE DAMN SWEDISH FISH.

“I’m going to make my Great Grandma’s brownies.” He says in response, “I’m hoping to channel her so I don’t mess up.” He says.

“Oh! More grandma baking goodies?! I can be your assistant baker! What do you need?” Nicky says visibly vibrating with excitement at the prospect. “We can listen to Mariah and I can lick the spoon!”

There is a noise of revulsion from the kitchen table.

“Don’t let him lick the spoon Smiths! He gets WEIRD about it.”

“That sounds like what someone who wants to lick the spoon would say.”

“Oh shut up!”

“That’s not a NO!”

The cousins continue to argue about spoon licking rights as FF gets started checking to make sure that the kitchen has all the necessary equipment to even make his brownies. He’d been so tired (last night? This morning?) that he hadn’t thought about even checking that the cousins would have things like a glass bowl, an baking dish, pie tin, etc.

Thankfully FOR ONCE luck is on his side and FF does not have to walk back to the Target.

So he finishes pulling out everything he’ll need, getting the oven pre-heated, and pulling out the ingredients for the brownies from the fridge.

He lights some incense with the stove top burners sends a quick prayer up and wonders if maybe a ouija board would have been better but if the Home Goods section had been a dangerous spot then the toy section would have been like walking into an active war zone. There are no laws as far as parents are concerned when it comes to getting the ‘it’ toy for their kids. FF has watched the highs and lows of humanity in the Barbie aisle more than once.

So he melts chocolate, he sifts flour and sugar, he separates eggs, and he uses every muscle that Kevin’s insane work out regiment had given his arms to whip those egg whites into stiff peaks. He knows his great gran is with him when Nicky and Aaron continue to argue (they are now talking about the ethics of licking the spoon vs. licking the bowl? He doesn’t quite get how they got there but alright) so Nicky doesn’t hear him say “Stiff Peaks Acquired” to himself because he knows Nicky well enough to know that he would have NEVER heard the end of it.

He uses all of the delicacy his gran had ever tried to teach him to fold those egg whites into the chocolate and then to fold in the flour and sugar. There are more steps, more ingredients, but unless you are family then those are CLASSIFIED.

Great Gran had always been the suspicious sort.

The oven beeps to let him know it’s done pre-heating as he’s carefully transferring his great gran’s life’s work into the baking dish.

He was so focused that he hadn’t even realized that Andrew was back until he turned to do the dishes and found Andrew holding the bowl and running his fingers through the scant remaining mix and shoving it into his mouth.

He is surprise that the scream remains in his head. He’s even more surprised that he stays upright. Maybe the nap did him some good even if it let Andrew and Captain Neil build whatever torture device they were intending to use on him.

He really needs to drink some pepto. He doesn’t think that Andrew will pause their ‘The Most Dangerous Game’ recreation to let FF manage his ulcers. Andrew is staring straight at him.

Andrew offers him the spoon.

FF declines. Raw eggs, sugar, and chocolate? With THIS stomach? He’d almost prefer to be chased through whatever enclosure Andrew is going to drag him to.

“When did you wake up?” Andrew asks.

“Hour ago.” He answers.

“Hm.”

“I’ll make the pie tomorrow.” he ventures trying to extend his life by another day.

Andrew shoves the spoon into his own mouth after that and walks out into the dining room. FF hears both Aaron and Nicky’s cries of anguish.

FF looks at the brownies in the oven at the incense burning on the counter and wonders if that was Andrew’s way of confirming his stay of execution.

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

Per your requests:

@i-have-three-feelings @blep-23 @dreamerking27 @andreilsmyreligion @belodensetdust @rainbowpineapplebottle @yarn-ace @iwouldlikesometea @lily-s-world @obscureshipsandchips @booklover242 @whataboutmyfries @sahturnos @pluto-pepsi @dreamerthinker @passinhosdetartaruga @leftunknownheart @aro-manita-muscaria @hologramsaredead @Chaoticgremlinswishtheycouldbeme @tntwme @tayspots @nick-scar @crazy-fangirl2524 @blue-jos10 @stabbyfoxandrew @splishsplashyouropinionistrash @sammichly @the-broken-pen @bitchesdoweknowu @very-small-flower @ghostlyboiii @its-a-paxycab @bisexual-genderfluid-fan @cheesecookie @theoneandonlylostsock @foxsoulcourt @blueleys @adverbialstarlight @elia-nna @can-i-just-stay-in-the-corner @nikodiangel @foxandcrow-inatrenchcoat @hallucinatedjosten @satanic-foxhole-court @vexingcosmos @chalilodimun @insectsgetcooked @angry-kid-with-no-money @queer-crows @lilyndra @themugglemudperson @readertodeath @apileofpillows @mortalsbowbeforeme @hellomynameismoo @next-level-mess @youreonlylow @interstellarfig

As stated before if you’re up here and I spelled it right but you didn’t get a notification there might be something switched around in your settings that won’t let me tag you properly?

#Fluent Freshman AU #Did Andrew and Neil hear FF defend them?#MAYBE #Did great gran come down from on high to guide FF's baking hands?#oh Absolutely there is no doubt #This is her great grandson! He BESEECHED her #Andrew does not know about the fifteen other bottles of five hour energy that FF has in his backpack #FF pressing his face against his Pepto bottle: Oh we're really in it now aren't we Pepto #Andrew and Neil building a dresser so that Neil can store his clothes: I wonder if Smith is up #It is only the cruelest of worlds that I make FF endure Nicky having heard him talk about stiff peaks #Can anyone tell that I know VERY little about baking and am hiding behind the shield of FAMILY SECRET to skate by this?#Well if you couldn't I guess I outed myself as a silly little fool in the tags #AFTG #AFTG OC #AFTG AU #AFTG Fic #My Fics #Andreil #FF - Pt. 13

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 6 months

Text

Don't Speak 29

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, stalking, manipulation, reclusive behaviour, disordered eating, dissociation, allusions to abuse, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (f!short!reader)

Character: librarian!Andy Barber

Note: I'm sorry this whole week has been Andrew

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

"Wish I didn't have to go back to work," Andy tucks his shirt in as he enters the kitchen, "mmm, something smells good."

"Oh, I found the waffle maker," you say proudly. Admittedly, you've made a mess. Your tablet displays the recipe as a bowl sits next to it dripping batter. "I thought it would be a nice start to the day."

"How long have you been awake?" His expression falls, "dove, you've been... very busy lately. I'm worried."

"Why?" You bat your lashes. Yes, you've been a bit all over, always trying to distract yourself. It helps you keep your mind off of the cramped nights and sleepless hours. "Dr. Kemp wants me to set goals."

"Yes, I know. And it's good advice but you can take a day off," he suggests.

"Maybe," you shrug and hide your disappointment. You thought he'd be happy. You're doing what he wants too. He wants you to give back and you're trying to take care of him the best way you know how. You've never tried this hard in your life but he doesn't seem to see that.

"Here," you turn and take a plate of waffles, "I also cut up some fruit," you put it on the island near him and grab the bowl of strawberries and blueberries, "and syrup."

You bring the bottle of dark maple and a set of cutlery for him. He sits on one of the high chairs and accepts them with a thanks. Despite his admonishment, he looks delights. You step back on your heel and watch him. As he cuts into the fluffy stack, he pauses and looks at you.

"What about you?"

"Oh, I'll eat when you're gone," you assure him, "I'm not hungry yet."

He inhales and takes his first bite. He chews it slowly, his thought tensing in his jaw, "promise you will. Dove... I see you pushing your food around."

"I don't have a problem," you say defensively. He doesn't know how you used to be. How you would binge so much you nearly puked. So you miss a meal or two, it's better than the alternative.

"I think it's something you should discuss in therapy? Just to be certain," he offers.

"It's not," you insist. "I'm fine--"

"Then sit down and eat with me. That's what couples do. They eat together," he points his fork at you, "and don't forget a kiss before I go."

You watch him for a moment. You don't tell Steve about these arguments, you only tell him what you learn. What you're doing to be better. You'll tell him you know now that you should eat with Andy and give him a kiss goodbye. That's something, you suppose.

"I'm sorry, Andy," you murmur and put a waffle on a plate for yourself.

"Don't be sorry, just do better, honey," he says.

"Alright," you turn back to him as you grab a fork and knife. You go around the island to sit next to him. You poke at the waffle and cut off a small piece.

"And... you can call me honey, too. Would you?"

You nod, "okay..." you hover the fork in front of your mouth as your stomach mulches, "honey."

🕊️

You spend much of the day painting. Your attempts at napping were met with tossing and turning as your mind kept wandering to the nights ahead and those behind you. Andy's touches aren't as unusual as before, you can lay still, close your eyes, let him kiss you. But he doesn't like it when you stop him from doing more.

Your back aches as you hunch forward on the stool. You know it's a bad position but you don't care. You lean in, nose almost touching the canvas as you focus on a feather.

You yawn and swipe the brush against your palette. You sway slightly, eyes nearly rolling back. You should try to nap before–

"How's it going, Dove?" Andy startles you as his shadow fills the door.

You turn, shivering in the airy garage as you lower the brush. You blink at him, for a moment thinking he might be a walking dream. You shake your head, no he's real and times slipped past you again.

You set down your palette and hug yourself. It's as if the day was a fog and it's only just clearing. You give a sheepish smile as Andy stays at the top of the steps.

"Tired?" He says, "oh, wow, you got a lot done."

"Yeah, uh… a lot," you agree hoarsely.

"Come on, you're asleep on your feet, sit down. I was thinking of ordering some pizza. I've been craving it," he beckons to you. You're glad he's in a good mood.

"Alright, I'll just clean up," you turn and rinse off your brush, "see ya inside."

"I can do that–"

"No, no, I'm… a bit particular about my brushes," you mutter, "I'll be in soon…honey."

"Alright, don't make me come find you," he kids as he backs up.

You're thankful he's appeased. You're too exhausted for him to be smothering you again. You just want to zone out.

You clean your brushes and palette off and place them away neatly. You rub your hands together as you climb the two steps inside and close the door behind you. As you pass the kitchen, Andy calls after you.

"Hey," you enter as he twists a knob on the stove.

"Making you some tea," he says, "you look cold. Why didn't you turn on the heater?"

"Didn't think of it," you drag your feet, legs heavy, "tea sounds nice."

"Some of that stuff Steve brought," he sniffs and gives a shrug, "you really seemed to like it."

"Sounds good," you lean on the counter and cup your chin.

"You can have it while we decide on toppings," he smiles, "you like pineapple on your pizza?"

"I'm not picky," you answer.

"I'm asking what you like, sweetie."

"Just cheese," you reply, "sorry."

"Don't be sorry," he comes around the island and cradles your head along the side, bending to kiss your crown, "go, relax, I'll bring the tea out to you."

"Thank you," you sidle away slowly.

You go into the living room and nestle into the corner of the couch, hugging your legs as you try to warm up. You watch the window, the grey sky dimming with the onset of the autumnal evening. You lean your head back and groan.

When Andy comes in, he plunks your cup down and sits heavily next to you. You look at him as he grabs the remote.

"Why don't you put something on?" He holds it out to you.

"Um, is there a game tonight?" You wonder.

"Don't worry about it. I'm not in the mood."

"Oh, alright," you take the remote and flip on the tv.

"Whatever you want," he leans back, one arm across the couch above you as he keeps his phone in his other.

You browse the television shows, thinking of trying something new. Your eyes drift thoughtlessly as he thumbs at the screen. He hums, "just cheese?"

"Yeah, that's good."

"Alright, I want you to finish two slices at least," he says.

You frown but don't argue. You don't appreciate his concern for your eating habits. Pizza is a lot and greasy. You reach for your tea and continue to search through titles.

You hear a bing and glance over again, certain not to move your head. You see the notification just before Andy swipes it away from the top of the screen. 'Cloud recordings full.'

You don't think anything of it. You don't know what that means. You click on a show you always saw Amber watching.

"Good choice," he says as he puts his phone down, "all ordered. With garlic knots too."

"Mm, sounds good," you blow on the tea, the smell of maple comforting, "thank you… er, honey."

"Of course," he kisses your head again as he drops his arm onto your shoulders, "the tea will help tide you over until it gets here."

🕊️

The pizza comes as the drowsiness tugs at your eyes. You feel sluggish as Andy brings you a plate with two slices. You chew as you stare at the bleary television, the audio garbling as you struggle to down each bite.

You finish with a painfully full stomach. Andy clears your plate with his and says something you don't catch. You feel so out of it. You've never felt like this before.

Andy comes back with two bottles of beer uncapped. You squint at him, sure you're seeing double. It must be the lack of sleep.

"Here," he holds one out as he sits next to you.

"Oh, I don't…" you eke out.

"One won't hurt, sweetie," he winks, "it's already open."

You rub your eyes before reaching out to take one. It's cold and the glass condensates beneath your palm. You sniff the open neck and make a face. It smells awful.

"Taste better than it looks," he clinks his bottle against yours.

You open your eyes wide, fighting the weight around them. You lean the bottle against your lips and make yourself take a drink. As much as you want to spit it out, you choke down the wheaty acidic liquid.

"You get used to it," he chuckles and takes a hearty swig.

"Mmm," you grumble, "I am very tired…"

"You go to bed early every night," he rests his hand on your knee, "worked all day just looking forward to being with you, honey."

You frown and nod, taking another repulsive gulp. It's nasty but you don't want to waste it. And you don't want him to be upset. Again.

"Finish your beer and you can go lay down," he says, "okay, sweetie."

"Alright," you look at the bottle, a tall task as each taste is worse than the last. "Thank you."

He keeps his hand on your leg. You notice how it slips higher along your thigh as you sip. You feel your body slackening and the sludgy fatigue turns to a bubbly blare.

You focus on the bottle, just wanting to go to bed. You empty it down to a small cluster of foam and sit forward to put it on the table. You miss and the bottle clanks on the floor. Andy chuckles and reaches to pick it up, setting it down with his own.

“Oh, honey,” he turns to you, “are you tipsy already?”

“Andy,” you breathe, “I don’t feel good.”

“You drank that too fast,” he laughs again, pushing his arm behind you, “here, I got you, baby.”

You close your eyes as he swoops his other arm under your knees and the whole world shifts as he lifts you. Your head lolls against his shoulder as he holds you against his chest. His scent seeps into your nostrils as the motions of his gait lulls you.

He climbs the stairs carefully as you lean into him. Your head swirls strangely. You’ve never felt like this. Your eyeballs feel funny and your stomach is airy.

You open your eyes again as he enters the bedroom. He tuts, amused by your state as he lays you on his bed. He hushes you as you babble dumbly.

“I’ll get you some pajamas, just relax,” he coos, dragging his hand down your side and kneading your thigh.

He leaves you as you obey him. Not out of your will, but because you have no choice. You can’t fight this eerie heaviness. The sludge of time and space that smothers you.

He returns, a blurry smear of colours as he moves around the room. He tosses something light beside you and bends over you. He runs his hands from your hips and around your back as he sits you up. You bobble as you struggle to hold your head up.

“Here,” he tugs on your shirt, bringing it up your torso.

Instinctively you catch it and try to keep him from revealing anymore. He clucks and yanks until you nearly fall back. You drop your hands to keep yourself up.

“Honey, I’m helping, don’t be bad,” he warns as he continues to raise the fabric, “arms up. I got you a fresh set of pajamas.”

Your lashes droop down and cling to each other. You shakily raise your arms and he pulls your shirt off. He gulps loudly and his fingers flutter along your shoulders and down to your chest. He cups your tits and purrs.

“Sweetie, I… never got to say before but you’re so beautiful, you know that?”

You shoo his touch away and cross your arms. He sighs heavily and grips your hips. He pulls you down harshly so you land flat on your back. You squeak in surprise as you bounces against the bed.

He pops open the button of your jeans and curls his fingers beneath the denim. He rolls them down roughly, jolting you as he gets them past your feet. You shiver as you lay in only your underwear and bra, hugging yourself.

“Mmmm,” he sits beside you again, leaning over you as he plants his hand by your other side, “honey,” he runs his other hand down your arm and takes yours, moving it into his lap, “do you feel what you do to me?”

He presses your hand to the bulge in his pants. Your head turns side to side as your voice sticks in your throat. The flavour of the beer stains your tongue and chokes you. He bends closer and kisses you on the lips.

“I need you so bad,” he whispers as he pulls away, “but… I want you to feel it.”

He moves your hand off of him and shifts, dragging his other hand away from the bed and down the curves of your side. He trails kisses down your jaw and neck, further and further, lingering around your chest as he guides the straps of your bra down your arms.

He looses your tits and tends to them one at a time. Nipping, kneading, and suckling until your nipples are sensitive and hard. His lets his hand wander further down as he dotes on your chest, slipping his fingers beneath he elastic of your panties.

He lifts his head and exhales a scalding breath over you, “can I taste you? I need to taste you…”

“What?” You murmur as your head slumps to one side and your eyes shut, fuzzy and itchy.

You feel the bed jostle as his weight lifts and his touch drifts away. He urges your legs apart before he settles between them, the bed moving with him. Your panties roll down your legs and he bends your knees. You whine, confused about what he’s doing.

He growls and you feel his breath along your thigh. You twitch as he spreads his hands across your flesh and holds your legs open. Something cool delves into the warmth between your legs. You yelp as your eyes snap open.

You lift your head as it teeters on your neck and you see the top of Andy’s head by your pelvis. He runs his hands around your thighs, gripping the outside and pushing them flush to his face as he laps at your cunt. You whimper as you fall flat again, hiding behind your eyelids as the vision of him paints the void of your speckly mind.

What is he doing?

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #au #library au #don't speak #series #defending jacob #fresh #steve kemp

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macfrog · 6 months

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all three dogs

Of course you must learn to love, to love always and love entirely and to be wounded by nothing so much as the violence of your own love. andrew kane, how to be a dog

inspired by this gorgeous post (good idea to read it before you read this), and this gorgeous ask (thank you @iknowisoundcrazy). also shoutout to @mrsmando for being the queen of character study. i am not sure what this is, exactly? is it about joel miller, or is it about some dogs? i do not know. but it was fucking cathartic, so here, i guess. here's how i see joel at his worst.

summary: "dog metaphors are all about devotion, devotion to a person, a concept, a place etc, to be a dog is to be devoted."

warnings: little graphic i guess? blood and guts. violent joel. sarah dies and joel shoots up a hospital to save ellie. angst. i think that's it

word count: 1.3k

main masterlist | follow @macfroglets with notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🖤

he loves you, sarah says, fork digging into egg.

he’s dependent on me, joel quips, not the same.

i think it’s the same.

when the first dog is born, he gives his heavy head a shake, and his ears flick to life. his fur is still damp from the blood and fluid of his mother’s body. he still smells like her – looks like her, too. he is still connected in some way to where he has been; the umbilical cord coiled and dripping.

she licks and licks and licks until he is clean. watches contently as he pads off into some distant future, where he will lose that boisterous gleam in his eye, the gentle wag of his tail. but for now –

for now, he is brown-haired. brown-eyed to match. he has a daughter. he is bright, and alive, and he makes jokes when they bubble up to his tongue. he is good. he knows love like a first language, as if each swipe of his mother’s tongue on his coat melded it into his makeup.

he does not know the warmth of another man’s blood on his hands. he has not drawn the screams and howls of pain from another’s throat.

she is the sun – his daughter – the most radiant part of his life. his life, which spins on its axis around her. always looking for her, to her, at her. vitamin c, she tells him, and he accepts the glass of orange juice. she tells him to swear and he says, on my life. she tells him he’s lame and he says, i know.

he trots faithful and pliant at her heels. circles her legs and passes over her shadow, waiting to be told different. waiting to be shooed away.

only – when he is told, he doesn’t listen. he can’t. what is a planet with no sun to orbit? what becomes of day, when its light begins to drain?

she digs her nails into his skin. pushes and scratches and begs him with shallow gasps to take his hands off her stomach. to let her go. to go away.

i know, baby, i know i know i know i know –

he tells her she’s going to be okay. because what the fuck else does he know? he’s just a dog. he’s just her dog. all he knows is her.

the sun is being eclipsed. the world begins to darken.

i’m just gonna get her killed, joel weeps, i know it. i have to leave her.

when the second dog is pulled from his mother, he wails in a collapsed heap on the cold tile floor. the world is dim, colorless. the sun is gone. he does not know how he ended up here.

love is akin to violence. it speaks the same language, inflection and cadence blurring between words. he is only as strong as his fists are able to break bone. he has run out of road – a panting, ragged, old dog, tongue hanging lopsided and jumping. ears dented with the pieces of him lost to fighting.

something quakes within his chest, a deep, unstable movement. a shifting of the tectonic plates that make up his bones. he shakes violently, feeling for the thrash of his heart against his chest wall. something in the darkness commands him to act – to move, though it never reveals where to or what from. just fucking move.

and then – the eruption of his temper. like waves on rocks, breaching in violent and unpredictable bursts. spray of black ocean on the jagged cliff edge. i made this decision for your own good, he reasons, stood in the pink-papered bedroom. the snow flutters silently outside. his hackles slowly furl. she scoffs. she knows as well as he does: he’s as good a liar as he was a pet.

but for all his anger, for all the fear he misdiagnoses as weakness – there is a glimmer somewhere on his back. a pale light catching in the broken face of his watch; lighting the kinks of his dark coat. it begins to push him; to stir him like the tide.

something is controlling him again. pulling on his collar. someone is lighting the way.

where is she?

fuck you.

it takes as little time for the dog’s ears to prick as it did for his lungs to suck in a breath. his upper lip twists, canine glinting in the trembling fluorescent light. shining with saliva and the rusted tinge of blood. joel thinks it over less than once. his eyes flood black.

i don’t have time for this.

when the third dog rips his way into the world, he tears everything around him to shreds, too. his teeth are already bared; his claws are already swiping. his eyes are black as ink; he cannot remember that soft-footed pup he once was.

there is nothing left to hide. not anymore. he has existed in the darkness too long to try. his shirt and skin are stained with dirt and sweat and blood. his fur is matted; his fangs are brown and rotten. if she saw him, if her light cast its golden spill onto his bloodshot eyes and mottled coat – she would never know who he is. she would not recognize her own father.

but he was always this way, it seems: he has always loved catastrophically.

everything is red. saturated in threat; a screaming, nauseating red. it turns his stomach just to look, to peer down the chamber of his gun. the blinking of the alarm light. the maroon stains on his hands. the metallic smell seeping from the slumped vests. the thick pools he steps through, the footprints following him around every corner. they will catch up to him eventually. they always do.

his paws hurt. pads skinned raw from all the running. his lungs ache, now, too. his throat lurches for breath, closes in on itself and then sticks, choking him. he cannot remember the heat of the sun on his arms. he does not know when he last said her name.

he doesn’t remember when he last said anything. he speaks in growls and barks and bites. when his mouth opens, his lips curl by instinct. he swallows his drawl and replaces it with something sharper. something poisonous. there’s foam lining his gums.

all he has – of this he is sure – is his brute force and the quick snap of his bite. the shattering of bone, the mauling of flesh. the brawn and breadth of his body; the squeeze of a trigger with one thoughtless pull. all he knows how to do is swing.

and so, one heavy boot steps in front of the other. crunching over broken glass and scuffing over bullet shells. whereisshewhereisshewhereisshe. it loops through his head like it used to when he could see color and feel the wind in his ears. like chasing his tail. catchitcatchitcatchit.

where did she go – the moon? which cloud is she hiding behind? how many men do his maws have to tear apart to find her?

and what will she think when she sees him again? his collar missing and his claws dripping crimson. when she feels the rips in his ears, sees the scar on the side of his head. what will she do, when she runs her hand down his dirty coat, and in place of a loving lick or nuzzle of the nose, he sinks his teeth straight into her wrist?

swear to me. swear to me that everything you said about the fireflies is true.

the dog lowers his head obediently. his ears fall flat. tail curls between his back legs. the wind pushes hard against joel’s chest, threatening to take him with it. i swear, he says.

ellie’s gaze falls. she nods once. tightens her fist around the dog’s leash.

okay.

lots of inspo drawn from:

how to be a dog by andrew kane

grit by silas denver melvin

monster theory: reading culture by jeffrey jerome cohen [seven theses]

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller one shot #joel miller drabble #the last of us #tlou #i’m not sure what this is #i just wanted to write it #this one goes out to all the dog motif posts i see on the daily about roman roy #ouch

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