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hanzajesthanza · 7 months

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regis didn’t die because “he got drunk,” he died because he abandoned his principles.

regis swearing at stygga and vowing to “fuck this castle up” is not only disturbing for what it is, and who he is, but also because of who he is in the company.

it truly is the “i’m a healer, but…” meme, because regis is the voice of reason, moderation, and logic, advising geralt away from hasty decisions. he’s a self-reported coward and afraid of violence, and you know, he’s the doctor.

it’s not just his abandonment of his principle to not drink, but the abandonment of ALL of his principles—patience, rationality, goodwill, optimism—is what kills him.

this discarding of principles happens in the scene where he returns to the rest of the company and sees milva’s dead body, where he says he feels such strength to fuck up this entire castle.

this hasty, violent cursing of his comes before the scene with vilgefortz—it foreshadows his death owing to his hasty, violent attack of vilgefortz. it didn’t just come out of nowhere that he made a terrible decision. (i mean, his first terrible decision was to follow geralt in the first place but, eh.)

it’s not just because “he had been drinking”—the drinking is more of a side effect rather than a cause... (and “one should treat the cause, and not its symptoms…”)

since, to our knowledge, he had one drink before returning to see milva dead, and during that time seemed to be, more or less, regis as he was—he even cracks jokes to ciri before he realizes, ‘wait, maybe i scared her’—it is when he returns and has seen, is processing, milva dead, that he makes this suspiciously unhinged, out of character statement about “i feel such strength inside me,” “i could fuck up this entire castle.”

sure, he could have had a couple more drinks between these two scenes that sapkowski did just not deign to write of, but even if he had been totally plastered, i don’t think that that solely is what causes his downfall, his out of character viciousness and hastiness. remember that alcoholism is an addiction, and addictions re-emerge when one is faced with despair, loss, grief… and hopelessness. (and with blood already on his lips from the laboratory, it became that much easier to give in when having to confront this tragedy—the coping mechanism was already right back in his hands)

the hopelessness of losing milva at the portico of stygga castle broke them all, before they even went inside. and this death broke regis as we knew him, as the company’s optimist.

seeing milva dead was the death of his principles, his virtues, what he worked so hard for such a long time to hold himself to. because these principles became as worthless as his surgeon’s tools—in this citadel of death, there’s nothing you can do to save life, to preserve it, as he had done prior:

after her miscarriage, although they stayed in the lyrian-rivian corps of meve for five or six days, they had deserted—and deserted the barber-surgeons in that corps—in less than a week. consider then that it became once again, regis’ responsibility, as the company’s barber-surgeon and sole healer, to care for milva as she recuperated.

though dandelion notes she did so quickly as she was a hale and strong woman and her troubles were mostly emotional, one must consider the responsibility that not only a friend feels for his friend’s life, but how a doctor feels for his patient’s life.

and how he feels when that life heals slowly, recuperates with difficulty, suffers more (broken ribs) but continues to heal under care, finally becomes strong again and, like her namesake, a bird, released with pride into the air—only to be shot down immediately, glassy-eyed in her own blood.

milva for regis was a symbol of preserving life (indeed, an interesting symbol, as she suffers miscarriage). and between them, it was also, of course, a complete inversion of the mythology surrounding vampires and pregnant women.

but at stygga, she dies so immediately, so violently:

… and from something… something as inconsequential as any old bit of wood…

what kind of cruelty is it for life to be ripped away so quickly, by something so small, with no chance of saving? of healing?

but it’s nothing, because this is stygga castle. where healing becomes unusable. useless.

so regis leaves his healing at the doorstep—literally, upon the portico, where milva’s body was dragged back to by geralt and cahir, bleeding out in a dark pool.

and along with healing… his patience, moderation, mercy, kindness, wisdom… all of his virtues.

their virtues. the company’s virtues. since regis embodied this rationalist and optimist side of the company, when he abandons these principles of his, the entire company loses them;

because now, there is no one to advise them to “proceed slowly and with due prudence.” now, there is no one to placatingly say, “come, come, let there be concord.” now, there is no one to say, “of course we can, it is simply a matter of invention and positive thinking!”

the voice of reason has left us, he flew off on bat’s wings without a murmur or a whistle. now the voice only says — “i will fuck up this entire castle.”

i don’t think at stygga, in this scene and the one with vilgefortz, we’re seeing just a “regis, but drunk”. it’s deeper than that… because it’s not just his sobriety he broke, he broke everything—broken and shattered, like the collection of glass vials and flasks he shattered in his dramatic entrance to vilgefortz’s laboratory, exploding, bursting one after another. and from this erupts a hellish inferno of corpse-blue flames.

it’s not just “regis, but drunk” it’s “regis, but without patience, wisdom, kindness… etc…”

that’s why he’s so unlike the regis we’ve come to know during the series, why he at stygga becomes so unrecognizable to the readers—because he’s thrown away all of his beloved virtues that he strived to embody. and because “everybody has their good points, to even out the vices,” he became unbalanced, with his vices leading him. namely, his hubris, which often came out in a much more modest way during the rest of the saga—in a scholarly and lecturing tone of voice—but at stygga, comes out as an arrogant threat that he and he alone can and will fuck up this entire castle, an overconfident leap at vilgefortz’s throat.

and in my interpretation, it’s also not accurate to look at it like “this was actually the true regis,” “this was regis underneath it all,” because it’s not “how he was back then,” it’s not like he went back in time to be his past self. it’s not a reverting.

it’s more like coming full circle, for it’s milva’s death which triggers him to discard his principles, and he only got to know milva through his upholding of these principles. his actions towards her (namely his midwifery) showcase some of the best of what he became, owing to these principles of his.

and her presence, or rather the loss of her, makes him realize that all of his goodness is in vain and will be of no help here. and that is when a great hopelessness consumes him, and he throws out his goodness with a cold clatter to the ground—what use was any of this, after all? i cannot save her with medicine, i cannot save her with my principles, it all turned out to be useless.

and we’ve seen something like this already in the saga—it’s much like when ciri is in the korath desert and begins to think, everyone has abandoned me, the morality and ethics they taught me are utterly useless. and it takes her being in korath for her to get there, to break her spirit. the seed of this may have been planted in her at cintra, but her contempt didn’t fully erupt until after she had tasted the love, mercy, and kindness of geralt and yennefer’s parentage and saving of her—and then was suddenly deprived of it.

similarly, regis had a terrible youth, and yes, when he’s giving up his principles here, he’s returning to a similar state—but it’s not the same as if he had never experienced the entire arc following his rebirth into human life. it’s not a return to his youth, it’s more like… hm… a mid-life crisis? hah…

a metaphor of day and night is apt!

he’s not “reverting” at stygga—it’s like how dawn and dusk, though they are at similar light levels, are not the same thing, because they have the entire daytime inbetween them!

the sun sets with his discarding of principles, and we return to night… a cold, sinister, menacing, darkness. back to the realm of the vampire, not the human:

because he, the company, is suddenly deprived of their archer, who, just remember, they worked so hard to save on the battle of the bridge, milva, whom regis rushed towards and carried on his back, staying with her during her miscarriage.

and now, she’s utterly dead in such a violent manner, and actually, the arrow pierced her lower abdomen, possibly where her womb would be: “struck [her] low in the belly (…) having shattered her pelvis (…)” for the ultimate symbolism for her character.

and suddenly with her death, regis realizes how useless he is, to them, here, as a surgeon. he cannot save milva now like he did under the bridge. he can’t help, save any of them. he’s powerless.

and if not a surgeon, their surgeon, who is he?

and if not wise, patient, cautious, kind, gentle? if not always knowing what to do, ‘in his infinite wisdom,’ in his ‘omniscience’? if not humanity? what is left of emiel regis? what is left?

blood.

#the witcher books #emiel regis #analysis #c: regis #book: lady of the lake #another post about this: https://www.tumblr.com/hanzajesthanza/696998330754007040/regis-drinking-at-stygga-or-why-i-love

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cottagecheese1 · 2 months

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Chapter 2

summary: A few years after your father died, your mother marries a new man, to you having a new family meant new begging's, but what happens when your new begging comes spiraling apart just because of the people that made them. paring: dark stepdad Andy Barber x reader x dark dbf Lloyd Hansen x reader x dark stepbrother Johnny storm x reader x dark bbf Colin Shea.

warnings- (DDLG undertones) stepcest, Johnny is NOT Andy's biological father, he is the adopted son. smut, do not engage if you are uncomfortable with any of the following, spanking, blackmail, p in v, edging, thigh riding, oral, fingering.

Series master list right here

The day was new, sadly, after last night you didn’t know if leaving your room was a good option in the first place, well of course you’d live, but the embarrassment you felt at the moment made you feel like the world was ending. You always felt a little sensitive and awkward towards every little situation that came your way. When you say it in your head it always sounds like a bad thing even though there are worse things in the world, and you shouldn’t even come close to feeling unfortunate in any situation–or thats what your mother would tell you, at a point your life your mother used to make you feel vain–blaming you for your fathers death saying it was your fault, of course you knew your mother had loved you, I mean she was also going through the grief of losing her husband, you shouldn’t be selfish–thats what she would also tell you.

After a long two hours of laying in bed, you rolled in bed and looked at your alarm clock that read 9:23am, and you could already hear the shuffling and laughter of the boys in the kitchen, deciding to just suffer through it and just hope nobody brings up the previous night, they all probably forgot about it by now, right? You could only hope because you sure haven’t forgotten.

Making your way down the hall where the chuckling and the sizzling of bacon started to make itself more present as you stepped into the kitchen, your head automatically goes down towards the floor when the chatter abruptly stops–the awkward sizzling of bacon mocking you as you walk towards the bread.

Andy stops and turns toward you with a small smile while leaning on the marble countertop, finally deciding to break the silence, “good morning honey, I made breakfast if you’re interested, bacon and uh maybe some pancakes if Johnny will save some for the rest of us.” he says the last part while turning towards a shirtless johnny stuffing his mouth full, mumbling out a “sorry”.

You tilt your head up toward Andy, and grab the bread, “no thanks Andy, maybe later–thanks though–well not that I don’t want any it's just-” you stutter out, until Andy interrupts you with a soft chuckle.

Andy walks behind you–tucking a piece of hair behind your ear before he leaned down to press a small kiss to your temple, “Oh pumpkin, what am I gonna do with you hm? With your cute self.” your cheeks tinted red, and besides that you could hear Johnny, and Colin snickering–probably making fun of you.

Not really knowing how to respond, but suddenly another thought comes to mind–where's your mother? Now curious, you turned and asked Andy, face still red as a beet, “um- where's my mom?” Andy half listens to you as he plays with your hair softly.

“She’s on a business trip, won’t be back for a few weeks, so you get to spend some alone time with us.” Andy says as he smirks.

You advert your gaze back to the toaster and give him a quick “okay”, before turning back around he huffs dramatically grabbing his keys swiftly, but before he heads out, he stops before the two chuckling boys.

“You boys be nice, treat her good until I get home, okay? Oh honey, if you need anything just give me a call, okay? Johnny should help you with anything, if not, I’ll be back around 11:00. Be good you two.”, and at that Andy was out the door, now it’s just you and them.

Johnny sighed and got up dramatically, “I’m gonna go take a shower, you kids have fun.” he said as he walked toward his bedroom.

Now it was just Colin and you, but as soon as you heard the toaster pop up, you scurried to your room–not even bothering to grab the butter–once you got to your room, closing the door you sighed and switched your phone on for the next hour.

💼

After another 30 minutes of contemplating if you should leave your room or not, you do. Opening the door slowly, and walking down the hall to the living room, where you thought watching TV would be an option for you, but Colin seemed to be taking up the couch and the entire atmosphere, and God was it intimidating.

Before you could turn away, and advance to the comfort of your own room–Colin stopped you abruptly. He threw his head back over the back of the couch, and called your name out.

“Hey!- don’t leave, come join me, I’m watching 21 jump street, I want you to come watch it with me.”

He sounded so demanding, but maybe that's just his way of expressing himself, so you watch as he scoots over a tad, and pats the spot next to him. This is when you seem to notice he doesn’t have a shirt on under his thin jacket, but you still sit down awkwardly next to him.

Suddenly he scoots closer to you, and wraps an arm around you, pulling you to him slightly as he says “relax baby, just getting comfortable, you wanna lay on me?”

“Oh, well I’m ok right now, I wouldn’t wanna-” he cuts you off by his own words, “cmon baby, I don’t mind, it's just some friendly cuddles, don’t gotta be all shy about it.” he says the last part chuckling.

You stay silent as he speaks again, “Here–I’ll help you.” Coin grunts a bit as he pulls you on top of him, and pushes your head onto his chest, softly stroking your hair. As much as you’d hate to admit it, it did feel kind of nice, maybe because he was nice and warm, and solid–Colin interrupts your train of thought when he speaks again.

“Isn’t this nice baby? All nice and relaxed…You're such a good girl, you know that?” he says with a mischievous glint in his voice while stroking your back, his voice still vibrating off of you he continues, “So, so quiet. Bet you're a virgin huh? All pure and untouched, from the way you're grinding on my dick and acting all innocent about it, you have to be.”

You feel stiff all the sudden, like you can’t move, now you're overly aware of the fact that his dick is poking your thigh. Then to make things worse he leans down toward your ear, “You know me, and Johnny talked about fucking you last night? Or how adorable you would look trying to wrap your lips around our cocks–and the tears that would run down that pretty face as we both fucked you till you couldn’t walk–or talk–bet you're a cock drunk bitch when you have the chance, huh?”

This is when you really started to freak out, trying to shove away from him eagerly, “Stop! Get off me! Andy will come back any time.”, and Colin just laughed at your plea, which made you slightly confused.

“Oh Baby, you poor girl, Andy’s the worst of both of us, if you knew all the dirty shit he’s said about you, you’d be crying–or well you already are–your new daddy just wants to pound you into his mattress until you're crying honey, and so much more.”

Your eyes widened at his statement, that couldn’t be, Andy cared about you..right? The thoughts that ran a million miles in your head suddenly got interrupted by another presence entering the room. Johnny.

Crying out for him as Colin licked and sucked on your neck, making you whimper pathetically in the process, “Johnny, please get him off of me..” you said pleadingly.

Johnny stared at you mockingly as he bent down to your level, where you still laid beneath Colin helplessly. He stroked the side of your face teasingly before he said, “Now why would I do that hm? Not when you’re whimpering so sweetly baby.” Colin then let up off you, leaning back into the couch, pulling you into his lap in the process as you felt your thighs subconsciously rub together.

After Johnny made his way beside you and Colin–sandwiching yourself between them as result, he stroked your thigh up and down, slowly making his way to your clothed core, “Look how fucking red you are, just from some teasing hm? you wanna feel me sweetheart? Don’t even try to hide how wet you are–bet you haven’t even had your first kiss yet.”

You had to be slightly surprised at his forwardness, no you haven’t had your first kiss yet, but you just told yourself that you're waiting for the right person. Colin chuckled at Johnny’s antics, this is also when you noticed that Johnny was not wearing a shirt–or pants for a matter of fact, this realization made you feel hotter all over.

Colin leaned over and looked at Johnny, “You know the old man won’t like it if we take her first kiss without him being here."

Johnny rolled his eyes and scoffed, still stroking your thighs, “Fuck that old geezer, I'm taking what's min-” Johnny got cut off by a loud slam of a door and jingling of car keys jingling. You three looked over toward the door to see Andy in the doorway, his arms crossed intimidatingly.

“what's going on here fellas..trying to break her in without me?” Andy said with a smirk as he reached the end of his sentence. He walked over to you slowly, and took your small face into both of his large hands, “And what about you honey? Having fun without daddy, hm? Good thing I’m here now.” He ends the last of his words with a chuckle.

Pleading for help wouldn’t even save you right now, after what Johnny and Colin just confessed to you–especially Andy–all you can do is hope for the best.

A/n: sorry for the short late chapter ya'll (I edited it at the end because the order was fucked up for those who were as confused as me.)

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astrowithkaro · 1 year

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❥ 𝐋𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝟏𝟎𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄

This post will explain what it means to have Lilith in the 10th house, I will be assuming that you know the basics of Lilith and won't go into details about her symbolism 🌹

(Black moon) Lilith is named after Adam’s first wife before Eve who was the outcast of the garden of Eden as a demon for asserting her sexuality and independence. Lilith represents our worst flaws, our unconscious mind and repressed desires as well as our hidden sexuality. This dark goddess symbolizes lust and carnal desire; she epitomizes all things taboo.

You can find your Lilith by creating a natal chart for yourself on Astro-seek.com and specify Lilith placement (PS: NOT ASTEROID LILITH 1181, it needs to be BLM/h12 that is usually an option in the extended chart settings).

All credits goes to the writer - @astrowithkaro. Do not steal or repost!

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭

You guys are made to play out the Lilith in your lives. Lilith will point where your hidden powers lie. People with this placement often have the ever-lasting sense that they are meant for something big. They have a higher calling in life and are often determined. They have long-term goals that are bigger than usual. They posses a lucky-girl mentality, but it comes at a cost.

Since the 10th house rules the eye of the public, your hidden extremities might be an invitation for rumours and scandals. Therefore, this placement can often get caught in drama, both at a young age while being in school, and often tend to manifest into their work life as well. You might have people speaking about you behind your back, but these rumours don't always resemble who you really are. As teens, you might develop crushes on teachers, or anyone that you idolise. In order to get their attention, you might try to seduce them or make yourself look as appealing as possible to the other person's deepest fantasies/desires. You often compare yourself to the best students and look up to the most successful people in your life, and even copy those tactics in order to gain those same traits you lack in yourself. On a darker note, you could have issues with your father or have a father figure that is absent. You might be oblivious to the insecurities that other people reflect onto you, and feel like it burdens you without being able to recognise where it stems from. You might fall in love with difficult people, people that are narcissistic or possess antisocial traits. People who do not have clear motives for you, but still lead you on in ways that would trigger a trauma bond between you two - love bombing is a clear example of that.

You might be labeled as a difficult person to work with and have a lot of competition when it comes to job opportunities. The people who are responsible for your job role/recruiters might ask you for sexual favours in return for a better position or a raise. Refusing to do this might lead to people throwing dirt on your name, you have the choice to stand up for yourself and make authority figures responsible for their bullshit. Having this placement also has a higher chance of working job positions that involve anything sex-and identity related.

There will be a certain fixation on shaming your position, or having people try to barber that recognition out of you. You might feel self-conscious around people who are highly successful. Though, you are able to recognise manipulation tactics used and you are not afraid to use it against anyone else if it comes down to it. But this could be a dangerous move since you can sometimes be vulnerable to Machiavellism due to your emotional side. You might also be prone to sexual partners who toy with your emotions, and want to use you for sex, might even try to shame your sexuality. You have a lot of public influence no matter what you get recognised for, two famous examples are Albert Einstein and Vladimir Putin. Therefore, you need to utilise it carefully.

Since there is a certain fixation on the desire for authority, you may sometimes desire darker powers or leadership, especially for those who meet a lot of resistance that lead to social isolation. You are afraid of failure and might be very responsive to any sort of failure or to be seen as vulnerable. You might develop a hyper-independence complex or a play a damsel-in-distress for people of power. You need to put your feelings aside when it comes to business. Your test in life is connected to having a sense of responsibility. There will be a delay in finding your career path.

There might also be a period during which you feel the need to over-sexualise yourself or romanticise parts of your life that are difficult for you to handle. This is rooted in the need for control over something that seems difficult or hard to reach. You might find it difficult to connect to your own deeper goals and ambitions, often due to unresolved resentment towards certain people or situations. You might hold grudges towards people who did you dirty. The path to empowerment is self-acceptance and moderation. If your needs aren't met, you tend to be ice-cold and might even appeared detached and distant - sometimes even "head in the clouds". You need to draw a line between your emotions and have an endurance.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･

𝕿𝖍𝖆𝖙'𝖘 𝖎𝖙 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖓𝖔𝖜 𝖄𝖔𝖚 𝖈𝖆𝖓 𝖋𝖎𝖓𝖉 𝖒𝖞 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊

#lilith astrology #lilith #lilith 10th house #astrology community #astrology #astroblr #astrology for beginners #astro notes #astrology observations #astrology tips #astrology notes #astro tips #astrology101 #astro #astro community #astro tumblr

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fortheloveoffanfic · 3 months

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Prettier When You're Mine

Andy Barber x Reader

Author's Note: Slowly trying to finish a few of these ongoing stories.

Summary: One year into working with a young, bright and beautiful junior prosecutor, Y/n, who bears an almost uncanny resemblance to Andy’s late wife, Laurie, he finds himself developing feelings for her. Though, when she brushes off his advances, Andy proves that he’ll do whatever it takes to recreate his family.

Disclaimer: 18+ This work contains dark themes, including stalking, dub-con, infidelity and manipulation. Read at your own discretion.

Masterlist Playlist Chapter 5

Chapter 6

A trip to Andy's house to reclaim her lost ring causes tension between Y/n and James, and unveils some dark truths. Warning: dubious consent, SMUT/NSFW, coerced/forced sex. Please do not read if you are even remotely uncomfortable with any of these warnings.

Dumping the contents of her bag on the kitchen counter, Y/n hastily sifted through it. Compact, cell phone, a couple pens, a packet of tissues, wallet, loose change and no ring. “Shit, shit, shit,” she swore under her breath, on the verge of tears. It hadn’t been anywhere that she'd looked, not in her office, her coat pocket or even in the damn coffee cup she’d checked on a whim. Calls to the doctor’s office and the bus station as well as a visit to the coffee shop and the place that she’d bought lunch had also been completely unhelpful and Y/n was beginning to fear that the ring was gone for good.

But it couldn’t be, not James’ mother’s ring. Precious family heirloom and the first material sign that she’d been accepted into their fold.

For the millionth time that day, Y/n found herself asking; why me? Was it because she’d almost been willing to let things go too far with Andy? Because part of her wanted them to? Or was it because she’d gotten herself in a self-pitying funk over something she was supposed to have made peace with?

Was it a sign that she simply didn’t deserve a man like James?

Standing in the middle of their loft’s small kitchen, she didn’t feel like she did. Because how could she be deserving of him and still spend rare, private moments fantasizing about her boss- who had proven himself to be just like any other jerk in a position of authority.

In retrospect, she should have seen the signs; his penchant for initiating physical contact, his apparent desire to know her on a personal level, his insistence that they work together. She couldn’t believe she actually thought he just saw potential in her- no strings, no expectations.

“Babe?” Hearing the bathroom door open, Y/n worked quickly to clumsily repack everything into her handbag. She hadn’t told James that she’d lost the ring, and had spent the entire car ride home trying to hide her left hand.

“Yeah?” Y/n’s head snapped up and her frenzied gazed noted James standing near the foot of their bed, wrapped only on a towel, with his skin still damp and his hair dripping. “What?” Then, hearing the haste in her tone, she cleared her throat and tried again, “I mean….what’s up?”

James’ lips fell again and he stuttered before continuing, “I was just gonna ask if you wanted to get Chinese,” he padded barefoot across the wood floor, “But I think I can ask you the same question.”

“If I wanna get Chinese….?”

“What’s up?” He quoted with emphasis, “Or better way; are you okay?”

Sneaking a cautionary glance at her hand, Y/n dropped it at her side and didn’t dare make a move towards James. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

Not believing her for a second, James shook his head and made the final steps towards her, rounding the kitchen counter so he could lay his wet hands on her shoulders, “No you’re not." He searched her teary eyes, worry pooling in his, “Did something happen at the doctor's?”

Sniffling as slow tears trickled down her cheeks, “I’ve just had a really rough day,” her voice broke pitifully and James didn’t miss another beat before pulling her against his chest. One hand cradled the back of her head while the other fell to the small off her back, and as she clung to his waist, she finally let a couple sobs break through.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" He probed gently.

How was she supposed to tell him that she was irrationally insecure about them never being able to convince? Or that Andy had come onto her in a moment of vulnerability. Or that she'd lost his mother's ring.

"No," she whimpered, "Not yet. I just wanna….I just want to forget the whole thing." Forget that she'd always secretly want something she would never have. Forget that she'd lost a very expensive and precious symbol of their union.

Forget that she was still thinking about what would have happened if she'd been brave enough to give in when Andy had come on to her.

Forget that she was above betraying the man she loved.

“Alright,” James murmured, kissing the crown of her head, “Well we don’t have to until you’re ready,” he added, lips still pressed to her hair. He was so good, so patient and she loved that.

Andy was so brooding and dangerous, she liked that.

Hugging James tighter, Y/n squeezed her eyes shut and tried to regulate her breaths; she didn’t deserve to cry about it when she’d come so close to acting on selfish impulse. They might have stayed like that for a while, if it were for her phone ringing loudly from where it sat on the counter. Sniffling loudly, Y/n pulled away and brushed her tears away with the sides of her fingers, “I should….” Trailing off, she moved towards the phone, sluming her shoulders when she saw Andy’s name on the screen, “Its my boss,” she reported sullenly.

Coming to stand behind her, James rested his hand on her shoulder, “Just let it go to voicemail.”

Y/n sighed, “Its not that easy.”

“You don’t owe him anything,” James reminded before letting go of a heavy breath and reluctantly adding, “But if you feel like you need to then, I can’t stop you.”

As James retracted his hand and started walking away, Y/n looked at Andy’s name on the screen and frowned as she glanced back up at her fiancee, “Don’t be mad, please.”

“Not mad,” he said, not looking at her as he tugged one of his drawers open, pulling out a pair of sweatpants, “Just….I’m worried about you, okay? This guy keeps you at the office at these weird hours and then today you come home crying.”

“What happened today has nothing to do with, Andy,” she lied, “He…he tried to help-”

“So you told him what was wrong but you didn’t tell me?” James knitted his brows, stepping behind the bamboo privacy screen that they kept near their wardrobe to get changed.

By then her phone had stopped ringing and the screen had faded to black, “That’s not….I didn’t tell him. I was really vague about it-”

“Yeah, well all I got was you had a rough day,” stepping out from behind the screen in low riding sweats and a t-shirt, James moved to hang his towel on a rack they kept next to the bathroom door.

“I…its complicated,” just then, her phone started ringing again, the urgency evident in the blaring tone, “I really have to take this,” Y/n snatched her phone off the counter and swiped the green icon. “Hey, what’s up?” Y/n answered cooly, defiantly matching eyes with James, whose gaze had hardened.

“I have something that I think belongs to you.”

Knitting her brows, Y/n stuttered, “What?”

“Three carats-”

“You have it,” Y/n gasped; she must have lost it in the haste to vacate his office, everything had been so jumbled and messy, from her feelings at the time to the physical situation.

“Yeah. Why don’t you come by and get it?”

Turning away so her back would be to James, Y/n drew in what she hoped would be a calming breath, “You’ve had it all day and said nothing?” She hissed as quietly as possible.

“Well, let’s not get accusatory.”

“God,” Y/n suspired, “Are you at the office?”

“Of course not,” Andy sounded amused by the whole situation, like he was baiting her, and it made Y/n’s blood boil. “You should come get it, tonight. Wouldn’t want James to think you’re trying to seem like an available woman.”

Exasperated, Y/n sighed, “Yeah, well, I don’t know where you live.”

“I’ll send you the address now,” she heard the phone moving on his end of the line and then less than a minute later, her phone pinged with an incoming text. “See you soon, sweetheart.”

There was that name again, that involuntary thrill up her spine.

Without another word, Y/n hung up and turned to James who was looking at her expectantly. “I have to go, some stuff came up late in discovery and its a lot so we’d have to start going through tonight to finish in time for Thursday.”

She wasn’t sure if James believed her, but he did play along, “Alright, well you should take the car,” he suggested and she was grateful that he didn’t offer to drive her.

“Yeah,” he nodded, approaching her once more, that time grabbing the keys off the coffee table and pressing it into her hands from over the counter, “Go do your job, we’ll talk when you get back.”

Leaning over, Y/n smiled tightly and reached to cup his cheek with her free hand, “I love you,” she kissed him briefly, hoping to chisel away some of the lingering tension.

James hummed softly, “Yeah, I know, I love you too.” When they broke, she grabbed her bag and coat quickly and hurried out of the apartment, letting a slow breath vacate her lips when she pulled the door shut behind herself; caught between being excited to see Andy again and combating worry over what would happen when they did.

Stuffing the hand with the car keys into the pocket of her camel coat, Y/n inhaled deeply before bringing her fist to Andy’s front door. His house was nice, it was one of the first thoughts she had upon pulling up at the curb; it was kind of like the one she had in her mind when she thought about the perfect place to live; big enough to comfortably raise a family with a gable roof and big windows that made you wonder what was happening inside. It looked like something out of HGTV or one of those home and garden magazines- sweet and picturesque.

“You came,” Andy determined when the door swung open. He was still half dressed from work; sleeves of his navy shirt rolled up to his elbows, black and blue tie from earlier gone and top two buttons of his shirt open.

“Yeah,” she squared her shoulders and straightened her back, “Well I want my ring.”

Andy smirked and Y/n ground her teeth, “Its upstairs, come in and I’ll get it for you.” Y/n couldn’t tell if it was an invitation or condition but Andy didn’t leave room for explanation, instead leaving her to follow him as he turned and delved further into the house.

The hall light was off, making the glow emanating from the kitchen up ahead to seem dim and ominous. Their shadows seemed bigger and in even in the low lighting Y/n could make out some of the framed photographs on the wall and she slowed down to see some of them. She recognized the people, a woman and a teenage boy, from the one personal picture that Andy had in his office- a small, family portrait taken on what she'd assumed was a taken at a beachy resort, contained in a shiny gold frame.

Mexico, he'd explained when he'd caught her staring once. The last vacation they'd taken before Laurie and Jacob's accident.

It must have been so hard for him to lose everything like that, especially since he had no other family. Worst yet, he was still a social pariah; the things she'd heard around the office were brutal and they seemed to follow him around like a dark cloud. It was why she'd tried to befriend him when they'd started working together, no one should be that alone.

But Andy had crossed a line.

Though, she hadn’t been very good at drawing one in the first place. Maybe she should have told him about James sooner. Maybe she didn’t want to.

When they finally broke off into the kitchen, Y/n stopped abruptly and folded her arms defensively. Andy didn’t head upstairs immediately, instead he poured two glasses from an open bottle on the dark veined marble counter. “I think you’ll like this one,” he offered her the glass.

Rolling her eyes, Y/n kept her arms folded, “I want my ring.”

“Have a drink,” Andy inched closer, causing Y/n to have to tip her chin to match his gaze. Swallowing a hitch breath, she tried to not react too much. He was so much bigger than her though, it was hard to keep the thrill contained. If the past couple months had taught her anything it was that there was a darkness that resided within Andy- behind the sad blue eyes and the strong silence was something akin to a tornado strong enough to rip an entire country to shreds.

Dangerous and violent.

And she liked it.

“I don’t want one,” she countered definitely, his proximity chipping her resolve away.

“I wasn’t asking, sweetheart,” Andy offered her the glass again, “Take it.” Reluctantly, Y/n relieved him of the glass but hesitated on taking a sip. Something might stir inside her when he was around, but it wasn’t trust. “Relax, I wouldn’t do that to you,” Y/n glared and in response, Andy downed his entire glass in one go, stepping away to fill it up again- that time a little more than the last. “See?” He took a generous swing, “I’m not that kind of guy,” he got close again, that time offering his glass for a toast, “To good men.”

She’d called him a good man, that had aged pretty badly.

“To good men,” she retorted sarcastically, taking a large sip of the wine. He was right, she did like it.

“Do you like it?” Y/n could have been wrong, maybe she had a little too much faith in him, but his question seemed genuine. Like he was eager to know if he’d made the right pick.

“Its alright,” the lie must not have been a very good one because Andy smirked. “I want my-”

“I know, finish your drink,” he gritted. Then, after polishing off his second glass at an alarming rate, Andy wiped off his mouth with the back of his hand. With just the slightest stumble in his usually confident gait, he set the empty glass down with a thump and started walking towards the stairs, “I’ll go get you’re fucking ring,” he mummbled, leaving her downstairs without another word.

Not thinking much of it, she took periodic sips of the wine. It was good, and judging by the label, it must have cost upwards of a couple hundred dollars, but it wasn't particularly strong- definitely not strong enough to get a man of his size drunk after two glasses.

That was when she put it together; the slightest scent of liquor on his breath when he’d answered the door, his outwardly aggressive behavior, the way he’d swallowed the wine like it was water- Andy was already drunk. He’d probably been that way since he’d called earlier.

And he was obviously playing some kind of game with her. Laying a trap. Luring her to danger.

On heavy steps, Andy returned downstairs about five minutes later, prowling towards her and prompting Y/n to absently inch backwards into the wall. “Your ring,” he held it up with a little, wicked grin. She put her hand out for it, but Andy took it instead, turning it over so her palm would be face down. Their chests were inches apart at that point and he kept his darkened eyes matched with hers, presumably in a defiant act above all else, as he slid the ring back onto her finger. “All better?”

Clenching her jaw, Y/n tried to pull her hand away but Andy tightened his grip and lunged; within the second his lips were on hers. Reacting instinctively, she kissed him back- it was completely impulsive, submission to a primal desire. She could taste the mixture of liquors on his lips and his kiss could have been as inebriating as the poison he’d poured down his throat. She might have gotten drunk on him- she would have- But the minute she caught herself, deserting carnal yearning in favor of what was true and right, Y/n tried to use her free hand to shove him away.

But he wouldn’t budge.

Andy was solid, immovable. Like a gray stone wall or a bear boxing in its prey.

She could feel a bulge pressing into her lower stomach, making it hard to focus

“Stop,” she fought against his lips, a frustrated noise escaping her lips when grabbed the wrist of the hand she as using to push against his chest. “You need to stop,” Y/n struggled against his hungry lips. It doesn't matter that she actually doesn't want him to, that she'd traded hours of sleep for fantasies that looked just like that. A moment where they'd be alone and he'd do things to her that James might be scared to.

But none of that mattered- they were fantasies and she was engaged.

When she attempted to use her legs against him- knee him in the groin or kick him in the shin- Andy reacted swiftly positioned both his legs between hers, consequently pressing his crotch against her.

“No,” he easily positioned her hands over her head, closing his fingers in around her wrists and pinning them to the wall above her head, rendering her defenseless. “You want this,” Andy snarled into her mouth, hooking his now free hand around the back of her thigh, guiding it harshly to his hip. “Say you want this.”

Wiggling against frantically, Y/n tossed her head back, hitting it on the wall, as she tried to tear her lips from his. “No, get off me,” she protested, voice rising above a harsh warning.

Deserting her thigh, Andy brought his hand to her neck and held her like that for a moment, “We’re doing this,” he managed through gritted teeth, “I know you, you want this. All those nights we spent together, just the two of us. Everytime I asked you if you wanted to go home, what did you say?” He was squeezing her throat, applying enough pressure to limit airflow.

“N–no,” it was getting harder to breathe and speak, and her vision was dancing but something in the back of Y/n’s mind doubted that he genuinely wanted to hurt her, “I-I said….no.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you’re engaged?” He pulled her forward a little, only to slam her head into the wall again, though not hard enough to inflict any more damage than a sore spot.

“Exactly,” Andy hissed, “You said no. We went on a fucking date and you didn’t tell me you were engaged.”

Hot tears were racing down her paling cheeks and Andy was beginning to seem more and more like a blur. “Because,” she gasped, desperately trying to suck in some air, “I…” A hitched sob punctuated her words, “I….I didn’t want you to know.”

She really didn’t. It was wrong, misguided and shamefully selfish, but at some point, Y/n had thought that bringing up her engagement would ruin the closeness that she so enjoyed with Andy. She enjoyed being the only person he opened up to, in a way, it felt like he was hers and as long as she kept her relationship with James hidden, nothing would change.

“Exactly,” he growled, seeking her lips once more, “You’ve wanted me exactly the way I’ve wanted you since that first case.”

A broken sob fell into his mouth and Y/n occasionally found herself punctuating her failing resistance with sloppily returned kisses. “I don’t wanna do this,” she cried weakly, breaths short and throat dry, “You don’t wanna do this,” halfheartedly, she kissed the corner of his lips and tried to turn her face away again, “You’re drunk, this isn’t you.”

Pressing his forehead to hers, Andy chuckled and his grip on her neck loosened so he could flatten his hand on the top of her chest. She could feel the heat of his palm through the fabric of her dress as he dragged it slowly down her body, and as she got a clearer sense of where his hand was going, she was breathing quickly. “I promise you, sweetheart” he rasped, fingers creeping under the hem of her skirt, which had ridden up her thigh, “This is exactly me.”

Pushing aside the crotch off her underwear, Andy slipped two of his digits into her folds and started pumping slowly. “See?” He taunted in response to the slickness that had gathered there shortly after she’d felt his member pressing into her stomach. Try as she might, it was impossible to deny the effect that Andy had on her and she hated that she did want him- a man like him, who was proving to be worse than the rumors. She hated that the only reason she was resisting was because she didn't want to be branded as a cheater.

“You want this,” he coaxed, curling his fingers and extracting a sharp inhale, “Admit it sweetheart.”

Not because she loved her fiance- she did- but she didn’t want that love questioned. Not by Andy, not by herself.

But love and sex, they were different. She could love James and want Andy. It wasn't wrong, it was just human.

His beard grazed her skin, and the sensation coupled with her mounting arousal made a shiver run up her spine. “Please….” Her plea was teary, and Y/n wasn’t sure what she was begging for; for him to spare her the consequence of a nasty truth or give her more.

Biting down on her lower lip, Y/n hoped a little pain and blood on her tongue was enough to keep her mouth shut and ward off the obvious truth, but when his lips sought her jaw and he added another finger to his quickening ministrations while pressing his thumb to her nub, she succumbed. “Yes…” She heaved, sobbing, “I want you,” she cried, head bending forward and her face consequently nuzzling the side of his.

She was only human, after all.

Finally satisfied, Andy let Y/n’s wrists go and she immediately loomed her arms around his neck, holding him to her. Meanwhile, he removed his fingers from her arousal and started pushing her underwear down, letting it pool at her feet. Without thinking, she kicked it away and when Andy curled his fingers under her ass after sparing a bare moment to undo his pants and free his cock, she let him lift her off the ground and wrapped her legs around his waist.

But when Andy slid into her with unfettered ease, girth stretching her to the point of a delicious burn, an erotic moan tumbled off her lips and her fingers curled in his nape. Immediately, he struck up a pace of pronounced but aggressive thrusts, giving off the sense that he was barely containing himself.

She still felt guilty. Y/n still knew it was wrong.

“Fuck….Laurie….” In the heat of the moment, her name dripped off his lips, and somewhere in the back of her mind, she realized that it wasn’t even about her;

'Because you remind me of someone. Someone special.'

'Keep the length, try a couple shades darker'- just like the woman in the photographs.

“I’ve been thinking about this since we met,” he admitted, liquor stained breath hot on her face and distracting her, “God, you feel so fucking good, you take me so well.”

He felt good too.

Steadying her at the hip with one hand, Andy used the other to free her blouse from the waist of her skirt. Delving under the hem, he groped her breast through her bra, kneading harshly. As the rhythmic roll of his hips grew rabid, Y/n found herself demanding, “Harder,” and, “Faster,” with the occasional obscene praise peppered in between.

Reveling in the feel of his bulging veins rubbing her sensitive walls with each purposeful, aggressive thrust and the way the curve of his member seemed to probe at the lowest part of her stomach, Y/n sunk her nails into his back, clawing at Andy through his shirt. Breathy moans and low grunts bounced off the walls as stifling heat cocooned them, hardly remedied by the air conditioning.

With each jerk, her back hit the wall with an audible thump and as Y/n felt herself inching closer to insurmountable gratification she tightened her legs around his hips, driving the back of her feet into his thighs. “Andy,” she hitched headily when his lips met hers again, not really in a kiss but a stretch of shared breaths. “Fuck,” Y/n heaved into his mouth, “You feel so….”

Grinning wickedly, he tried to meet her lust blown eyes but their faces were so close that it was hard. “Feel so….?”

“So-uh,” a small fraction of her was readily able to recognize that there was no coming back from the words she wanted to say. Her silly admission that he was the best she’d ever had. Y/n’s mind though had fallen into some kind of sex-crazed limbo, caught between what was inherently right and what felt incomparably good.

“Tell me,” he demanded, kissing her roughly, biting her lips before pulling away a few centimeters.

“Good,” at the back of his head, she grabbed a fistful of his hair, causing him to bite her lips when they kissed again, “So fucking good.” Pressing her face close to his, the rise and fall of her chest became erratic and her heart was galloping in behind her ribs and she became acutely aware of just how close she was to toppling over with gratification.

“I wanna feel you,” he encouraged, quickening his pace a little, fingers digging into her waist.

The fabric of his shirt was crumpled in her grip and eager for release, Y/n struggled to buck her hips towards his. With a gasp, Y/n’s legs stiffened and her head lolled back against the wall. Unrestrained ecstasy started in a burst at her center, spreading like an untamed wildefire to electrify her every nerve. Clenching around him, her frame quaked and she drenched their thighs in silky moisture. She didn’t think it had ever felt like that; like watching fireworks on an LSD high or speeding on the freeway after a night of tequila shots. There was a rush she’d never experienced before, one she fittingly thought could only ever be achieved with drugs. “Andy! Fuck!” Her throat hurt and her words were loud and a little hoarse.

Andy’s pace didn’t falter through the crest of her euphoria, though just as her high settled, leaving behind a pleasurable sensitivity and colours on her vision, his hips sputtered. She should have pushed him away, begged him to pull out, but much too consumed by the threads of pleasure still running through her veins, Y/n clung to him as generous ribbons of his hot product shot into her. By then, he’d shifted his feet slightly and moved both his hands to hold onto her hip, as if he were keeping her in place so she’d take every drop of him.

Even after it was over, Andy remained sheathed between her sore walls for a handful of slow moments. They kissed, lips taking on a leisured pace that time and Y/n leaned forward so he’d be supporting most of her weight. She could have sworn that every sensation in that moment was raw and amplified; the roughness of his beard scratching the area around her lips and tickling her palms, the fullness of him still settled inside her, the heat of his touch seeping through her blouse and the rhythm of his heart matching hers.

Suddenly, she couldn’t remember if her heartbeat had ever matched James’.

She hated that she was comparing them. He was a good man and Andy was…..Andy.

Gingerly, he pulled out, and simultaneously, she untangled her legs from around him, knees almost buckling as her feet finally hit the ground. Shutting her eyes as she slumped against the wall, Y/n could hear the soft clink of his belt as Andy tugged his pants up, and while she made no effort to pull her skirt down, she could feel the fabric slowly creeping back to his proper place.

When he lazily leaned forward, braced by one arm pressed to the wall diagonally over her head, Andy reached out to ghost the outline of her face with his rough fingertips, thumb tracing tear stains and then the shape of her kiss-swollen lips. His breathing was just as heavy as hers and it was only after his touch hand trailed down her neck and had reached the valley of her cleavage did he disturbed the heavy silence. “Can I tell you something?” His hoarse whisper elicited a pitiful whimper and shiver from her. His large hand skimmed the contour of her curves and settled to a firm grip on her waist, “You’re prettier when you’re mine.”

Mine.

His.

A hitched sob escaped her throat just as her guilt doubled; how could she? That time, when she pushed him away, Andy complied. There was so much she could say to him; curse him, lie and say she hated him, blame him but it would really only be words born from her own guilt and after he’d spent the past forty minutes or so ruining her, Y/n didn’t think he deserved the satisfaction.

Sucking in a big breath to contain her shameful tears, she shuffled away from Andy, who didn’t even put a toe towards trying to stop her; she supposed it was because he’d already gotten what he wanted. Blindly, Y/n stumbled towards the door, letting herself out without a word and not bothering to shut it as she left. Approaching the car parked on the curb, Y/n rummaged through her coat for the keys and after she got them out, she shrugged off the coat using it to lap up some of the moisture on her face and neck before getting in.

Immediately after getting the engine going, Y/n put down the windows and turned on the air conditioning, hoping the inescapable chill would do something for her appearance. Then reaching into the glove compartment, she hastily extracted a wad of napkins and did her best to clean up before discarding them on the passenger seat and grabbing up her phone.

“I’m sorry about what happened earlier.”

“Drive safe. Text me when you get there.”

“Y/n?”

“I get it if you’re still upset but please let me know that you’re safe.”

“Ordered your favorite for dinner. Waiting till you get here. I love you.”

“Shit!” Y/n banged the wheel with the side of her fist and hot tears rained from blurry eyes. She’d been at Andy’s for just over an hour. Trying to slow the erratic rise and fall of her chest and quiet her sobs, she quickly typed a response, telling James that she’d forgotten her phone in the car and would be home within the next half hour.

Then, as she wiped her eyes and pulled off, hoping she could bring herself to face James by the time she got home.

#chris evans #chris evans x reader #andy barber x reader #andy barber fanfic #andy barber #fanfic #defending jacob #andy barber au #prettier when you're mine

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cobragardens · 6 months

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Aziraphale's Ascot: An Analysis

What's most interesting to me about the ascot Aziraphale is wearing when he turns up in Crowley's car in 1967 is that it's very fashionable.

An ascot (American), or day cravat (British), is a band of material meant to be worn inside the shirt collar, terminated on each end with a long wide tongue of that same fabric.

The band goes around the back of the neck, and the tongues are tied in the front and tucked into the open neck of a collared shirt. An ascot displays a wide sweep of color just below the wearer's face to flatter their complexion and show their personality.

And the late 1960s was the ascot's peak of popularity. The Duke of Windsor wore them; the mods wore them; British Invasion bands wore them. Fred wears an ascot in the Scooby-Doo cartoons. Lance Corporal Shadwell wears one. They were a huge trend.

On the surface this doesn't seem like Aziraphale at all. His previous appearances indicate his stylishness in ancient Rome is merely serendipitous overlap of Roman fashion with his personal preferences for white robes, blond hair in a Brutus cut, and gold wing-themed jewellery. In 1601, 1793, 1941, and all contemporary scenes, his style is decades to more than a century off the fashion of its time. We know he's into bow ties by 1941, and he's hardly one to adopt a style merely because it's popular; so why the ascot in 1967?

One possible explanation is that Aziraphale misses the clothing of the Victorian period and leaps at the chance to wear something that harks back to a time when he felt at home, sartorially speaking.

I don't think that's it, though, at least not in Show Omens. For one thing, traditional ascot ties (what a British person would call an ascot or an ascot tie, rather than a day cravat) are not at all the same accessory as the ascots of the 1960s: they're formal rather than semi-casual daywear; they're made of thicker silk, often with a woven rather than printed pattern; and they're worn outside the shirt and collar. More importantly, we've got two scenes of Aziraphale in the Victorian period, and he's not wearing an ascot tie in either of them: he's wearing a long cravat tied in a wide bow, a precursor to his bow ties.

I therefore propose a different explanation for the ascot of 1967.

As Aziraphale has clearly never been anywhere near a polyester fibre in the whole of his celestial existence, and as he always affects an appearance of idle hereditary wealth, we must presume that this--

--is silk. (In fact in the 1960s, a silk ascot in light colors was a signal of upper-class status.)

And we know Aziraphale likes silk, because by 2023 he's been wearing a silk velvet waistcoat for 200 years.

I again advance the argument that, despite himself, Aziraphale is a voluptuary by nature: a person who directs their energies toward the pursuit and enjoyment of pleasure, especially (but not solely) sensual pleasure.

He can control his appearance at will, and yet he has a barber; that means he enjoys the pleasure of a haircut and maybe a hot shave. (I have similar suspicions about his manicured hands.) The barber has recommended new cologne, which means Aziraphale has an old cologne, which means he likes to smell beautiful scents. He eats for sensual pleasure. He drinks for sensual pleasure (much more so than Crowley, who drinks for the pleasure and escape of inebriation). He listens to music for sensual pleasure. He attends the theater for pleasure. Reading is as much a sensual pleasure inside your own head as it is intellectual self-stimulation (which is its own kind of pleasure in turn); and believe me, collecting books is as much a sensual pleasure as a logistical and a philosophical one.

Aziraphale even agrees to an Arrangement with a demon to give himself more spare time for his pursuit of human pleasures. And then he and the demon become friends, because what could be a greater pleasure than indulging yourself in the good company of someone clever and kind and beautiful, who flirts with you and tells wicked jokes you mustn't laugh at--except perhaps for the pleasure of making that person smile in return?

Fun fact: The silk of which casual ascots are made is finer than the silk of either traditional ascot ties or neckties, because ascots/day cravats are made to be worn inside rather than outside the collar.

In 1967, instead of his usual crisp bow tie around his usual tightly buttoned collar, Aziraphale wears an open collar and a day cravat because the fashion of the 1960s lets him keep silk against his skin.

And there's one other thing, too. Compare Aziraphale's ascot to Lance-Corporal Shadwell's, or to the standard ascot knot:

The edge of Azirapale's ascot sits below the edge of his shirt collar where it should sit above, and the cascade spills almost an inch in front of his Adam's apple instead of flush against his neck. Aziraphale has tied his ascot low and loose.

It allows him to bare more of his throat to Crowley than has been sanctioned by custom for 2,000 years.

How long after Aziraphale reverted to bow ties did Crowley think about that?

#good omens #good omens 2 #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #aziraphale #aziraphale's ascot #good omens 1967 #good omens s2 #aziraphale's day cravat

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itsclydebitches · 11 months

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This interaction popped into my head fully-formed today and I knew no peace until I wrote it out. They're friends, your honor 😭

“Getting long, huh?”

Trent froze in the act of putting up his hair, a few tendrils slipping to fall in his eyes, obscuring Roy. It was still instinctual to flinch back, his father’s acidic voice ringing in his ears as he said again and again and again how it was past time for Trent to see a barber, each reminder casual like his judgment was a given. Well, it always had been. Trent never found the courage to admit that he was a regular of salons and that each product they sold there cost more than his father’s first rent. His lip had curled, barb-like, when Trent had last visited, the shoulder-length cut exacerbating the news of his firing. He could only imagine what his father would say if he saw it now, curls licking at the small of his back.

Trent’s mind processed all of this in a matter of seconds, journalistic instincts finally overriding the fear to focus on reality: the neutral tone of Roy’s voice. His appreciative glance. Their normal coffee hand-off that Trent had to resurrect numb fingers to complete.

Roy was not his father. No one at Richmond was.

“Yeah,” Trent agreed, voice scratchy. He took a hasty gulp of his drink. “It’s never been this long before.”

Non-committal grunt from the other side of the office. That was the Roy equivalent of dragging his chair over, propping his chin on his hands, and begging for all the juicy details.

“I’m... thinking of cutting it again?”

That got a reaction. Roy’s head whipped around in a gesture that screamed ‘ABSOLUTELY NOT’ but his response, when it came, was just another measured hum. No pressure; plenty of space to accept a statement, or engage with the question. Trent had to bite his lip to keep from laughing outright. But god, Roy was trying so hard and that felt so good.

Though he was likewise trying to be kinder to his past self, Trent hated that he’d caved and cut his hair a day before approaching Richmond, that snide voice in his head insisting that he’d be lucky to make it into the building -- they certainly wouldn’t hire a slovenly poof, as his father might say. Ah, but then that voice did have a hint of his Scouse accent, didn't it? Really, Trent hadn’t given it much thought until Ted mentioned having a bag full of hair-ties and suddenly he was desperate for the length back, if only to make use of something that Ted had held.

Embolden by caffeine and the mellow mood, Trent decided to gift Roy some truth.

“I grew it this long for him,” he said, head nodding towards the closed door. Behind the glass Ted was pecking at his keyboard in a manner that was not adorable, not at all, because describing a middle-aged American as ‘adorable’ was too much, even for Trent’s purple prose. So Ted was merely whatever word instilled the desire to kick one’s feet and doodle connecting hearts around the edges of a journal.

Trent’s crush was no secret -- to no one but Ted, anyway -- but speaking about it now, openly, mere feet from the man himself... that was thrilling. Ridiculously so for a Tuesday morning spent with Roy Kent.

“I missed a couple of appointments back when the book was going through proofs and then we had that week-long storm, remember?" Trent mimed the sheets of rain that had flooded their streets and turned flower beds into dirt soup. "I came in drenched one day, just sopping, with my shoes squelching and my blazer ruined. I’m pretty sure I scarred one of the security guards when I threatened to get him fired if he didn’t find me a towel in the next thirty seconds. I was a bitch, no two ways about it. Meanwhile, Ted took one look at me, gasped, and said I was a mermaid.” Trent grinned at the memory, fingers fluttering. “Then he lent me a shirt and I spent the rest of the day wondering if the purple made me look like Ariel.”

“...Did you keep the shirt?”

“Of course not. It was lost--” air quotes, “--at the cleaners.”

Roy snorted in amusement. Trent was surprised though when his expression grew tight and when he spoke, so quiet Trent almost didn’t catch it, there was an undertone of hesitance; like Roy feared overstepping some line.

“Grew it long for him,” he said, “but are you keeping it long for him? I mean, what the fuck do you want?”

Trent blinked, considering. Oh. Well. If you’d asked him point blank he would have said categorically that he wasn’t someone who changed himself to appease others... but then, forty years pretending to be straight didn’t really support that, now did it? The truth was that he wanted strangers to stop staring on the street whenever he went out with his curls and a skirt. He wanted to teach Amelia how to braid his hair, just like he braided hers each weekend. He wanted a fucking buzz-cut to combat the summer heat. He wanted to make the flower crowns he’d never even dared to imagine in his youth. He wanted to spend less of his salary on products -- or at least feel less guilty about the indulgence. He wanted to borrow Keeley’s scrunchies. He wanted to donate it all to Locks of Love. He wanted hair long enough to impulsively dye it red, just to see Ted laugh.

Trent wanted to go back in time and find the courage to change his own body without riding the coattails of a crush’s compliment. He wanted to accept that there was no version of himself he liked without the influence of Ted Lasso and kiss him, kiss him, kiss him in gratitude.

“I don’t know,” Trent admitted, “but for now I want this.”

Roy gave a short nod, his shoulders relaxing. He glanced towards the window where Ted still sat, huffing in a manner that a brave man might have called fond, and returned to his work.

Once they’d settled into their daily silence, Trent couldn’t resist:

“I do want it long enough for him to pull.”

“Fuck off!”

Across the way Ted jumped, wondering what had Trent laughing like that and Roy slamming through the door, yelling something about "TM-fucking-I."

Watching Trent tip his head back so his hair flew, danced, caressed his cheek as it passed, Ted decided he’d just have to ask him about it over dinner.

#Ted Lasso #Trent Crimm #Roy Kent #Tedependent #Ted Lasso fic #might put up on AO3 later #how many fics will I write about Trent's hair?#not enough #that hair deserves it

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eloquentreverie · 8 months

Text

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐂𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐈𝐧

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: husband ! andy barber x wife! female reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: When your mother dies after suffering from Alzheimer's disease, you struggle to cope with the pain.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 & 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: 18+ content. grief, angst, depression, loss of a loved one, andy being a perfect husband ( yes, that's a warning), once again. smut, p in v sex, vaginal fingering, angst with a happy ending, sad/grief sex, mentions of Alzheimer's disease, angst but fluff at the end. Mentions of God, fucking in a church. (oops.), mentions of alcohol.

𝐚/𝐧: This poor man! I always get hella muse for angst fics when it comes to him. One day I'm gonna write the fluffiest romantic fic with him but, today is not that day. lol. This fic is very self-indulgent and the inspo is from personal aspects of my life so I'm excited to share it with you guys.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6.1k +

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐈𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐎𝟑

When the storms of life batter me, be the hand that I hold. When I have nothing else left.

She knew this moment was inevitable. From the very beginning, she had seen the signs, and over time, they had only grown more pronounced. Y/N could still hear the echoes of Andy's voice in her mind, offering comforting words. "You did everything you could, babe." But those words couldn't alleviate the ache in her heart or the invisible weight that seemed to press down on her ribcage, slowly suffocating her.

Tears streamed down her face, starting from the inner corners of her eyes and burning as they made their way down her cheeks. She sought solace in the sanctuary of her bed, hiding beneath the plush covers made of Egyptian cotton. Sleep became her refuge, a temporary escape from the harsh reality she was facing. She desperately wanted to believe that this wasn't real, that it wasn't happening. Just when she thought she could catch her breath, the respite was shattered by the memory of the phone call from the care center.

"Andy, stop!" Y/N giggled as he playfully showered her face with kisses, their bodies cozily intertwined on the couch. "Mmm. Only if you give me one more kiss," he teased, a mischievous smirk adorning his face. Their lips were about to meet when her phone rudely interrupted the moment. Glancing at the caller ID, she sighed, recognizing the number from the care center where her mother was currently residing.

In an instant, her demeanor changed. Her shoulders slumped, and the once radiant smile faded away. Taking a deep breath, she felt the soothing touch of her husband's warm hand massaging her back. Andy had witnessed the gradual decline in her mother's health, so a part of him was not entirely surprised. But as he saw her body tense up and tears welling up in her eyes, he didn't need to ask. He already knew.

The words echo in her ears, "I'm sorry to inform you. But your mother passed away last night."

She mouthed a small, tearful thank you, her voice already cracking, before placing her phone down on the coffee table in front of them. Taking a deep breath, she felt her chest tighten with a sense of dread that washed over her. Unable to hold back any longer, she broke down, her hands instinctively covering her face as tears streamed down.

Andy immediately enveloped her in his arms, pulling her close and holding her tightly against him. Resting his head against hers, he provided a comforting presence as she cried into his chest. Her body shook with sobs, and warm tears soaked her face. It all felt unreal. Her mother had passed away, and she hadn't even had the chance to say goodbye, too consumed by her life with Andy.

"It's my fault, Andy. I should have visited her. I should have been a better daughter," she wailed, her cries echoing through the room. Andy shook his head, gently pulling her away from his chest to look her in the eyes.

"No, no, no, no, Y/N. No, sweetheart. You are an amazing daughter. You're an amazing person. And I know your mom thought that too," he reassured her, his voice filled with love and understanding.

More tears welled up in her eyes as she shook her head. "No, no. She died alone and probably scared. I should have been there. I should have..." Her voice trailed off, and she abruptly stood up, running into the bedroom as more tears threatened to spill down her cheeks.

Her husband quickly followed her, stepping into their bedroom and finding her leaning against the bedpost. Tears blurred her vision as she spoke, her voice filled with anguish. "I can't do this, Andy. I can't face her. I can't." She sobbed uncontrollably as he slowly approached her, reaching out to gently wipe away her tears.

"Yes, you can. And I'll be right there with you. Every step of the way, babe," he reassured her, pressing a tender kiss on her forehead, a promise of unwavering support and love.

The next morning was consumed by the somber task of planning a funeral and making arrangements for her mother's final farewell. Y/N anxiously sat by the phone, waiting for a call back from the funeral director she had spoken to earlier in the day. Taking a deep breath, she exhaled slowly, running her hands through her hair, trying to gather her thoughts amidst the whirlwind of emotions.

Everything else seemed to blur together - the funeral planning, the drive to the funeral home, and the day of the funeral itself. Andy noticed the profound change in her demeanor, the quietness and distance that had settled upon her.

He understood the immense pain she was enduring, as they both grappled with their grief. The most difficult part was verifying her mother's body and informing friends and family of the funeral date. While she could notify most of them through social media or text, having to engage in phone conversations with some was almost unbearable. Hearing them share cherished memories only intensified the ache in her heart. She knew it was their way of grieving and bidding farewell, but it did little to alleviate her own anguish.

To make matters worse, her husband had to witness her breakdown multiple times, offering solace as she wept. She was consumed by anger, guilt, and a sense of selfishness. How could she have let her mother down, even in her state of deteriorating mental health? After what felt like an eternity of making calls and notifications online, she finally joined her father and husband, sinking down onto a bench with a heavy sigh. Andy and her dad didn't miss her weariness.

"How are you holding up, angel?" her father asked, gently stroking her hair. Y/N looked up at her husband, finding comfort in his soft, reassuring smile, which she gratefully returned. "Not so great. But, I'm hanging in there, I suppose. How about you, Dad?" She posed the question, her lip caught between her teeth, her worry evident.

He smiled, giving a small shrug. "Oh, I'm alright. We can only move forward, one step at a time. God called your mom, and he had his reasons. It could have been cancer or something far worse. He called her home, and we can't continue to torment ourselves over this. It's not what she would have wanted.”

Her hands paused in mid-air, hovering over the boxes filled with her mother's belongings. The weight of guilt still clung to her, dragging her down into a sea of remorse. Thoughts of what could have been haunted her, tormenting her with images of her mother's final moments, alone in that cold hospice bed. She closed her eyes tightly, squeezing the bridge of her nose in an attempt to alleviate the pain that threatened to overwhelm her.

"Let's go home, honey. All of us," he said, extending his hand to her. Y/N's trembling hand reached out and clasped his, and a wave of relief washed over her. She released a long-held breath, feeling a glimmer of solace in Andy's presence. As her father and husband made their way to the car, she was overcome by an overwhelming sense of guilt. She couldn't help but wonder if there was something, anything, she could have done differently. Was there a chance she could have been there for her mother in her final moments?

Her legs shook beneath her, and goosebumps prickled on her skin as she grappled with the weight of her emotions. Andy's hand enclosed hers, offering a measure of comfort that calmed her nerves, if only slightly. He guided her towards the car, understanding the turmoil that churned within her.

When they arrived at their home, her husband unlocked the door and led Y/N and her father into the warm embrace of their sanctuary. Without hesitation, she shrugged off her coat and tossed it onto the waiting coat rack. But as she glanced around the room, a strong urge to unpack and organize everything overcame her. She felt the need to keep herself busy, to distract herself from the turmoil within her heart.

Andy's concerned gaze met hers, and he gently asked, "What're you doing, sweetie?" His expression reflected his worry, longing to understand her actions.

She took a deep breath, her shoulders sagging under the weight of her conflicting emotions. "I... I was going to unpack. I thought it would help me keep my mind off things," she admitted, her voice tinged with a mixture of exhaustion and determination.

Andy's concern softened his features, and he placed his hands on her shoulders, offering her support. "I understand that you want to stay busy, but right now, you need to focus on taking care of yourself. Unpacking can wait. Allow yourself time to rest and heal," he advised, his voice filled with love and compassion.

She sighed, feeling torn between her need to distract herself and the necessity of confronting her grief. She knew deep down that Andy was right, that she needed to prioritize her own well-being during this painful time. With a nod, she yielded to his guidance, allowing him to lead her away from the boxes and towards a moment of respite in their home.

Andy's heart ached as he witnessed her anguish, her tears falling freely down her cheeks. He longed to ease her pain, to mend her broken spirit. Without hesitation, he rushed to her side, his arms encircling her trembling form. He murmured soothingly, his voice a gentle lullaby, as he rocked her back and forth, as if cradling their unborn child. His fingertips traced comforting circles between her shoulder blades, offering solace in his touch.

She bit her bottom lip. She wanted to leave it all there. "I can't believe what a failure of a daughter I am, Andy. A good daughter wouldn't have left her mom's last minutes being some sort of empty hospital room!" Tears started falling from Y/N's cheeks again.

"Oh no, honey, shhhhhh," he whispered softly, trying to calm her sobs. The weight of her words, filled with self-doubt and guilt, struck him deeply. He knew the depths of her heartache, the torment of feeling like she had failed as a daughter. He wiped away her tears with the sleeve of his shirt, his own tears threatening to spill.

"There's always going to be that feeling of guilt in you," Andy spoke gently, his voice carrying a mix of empathy and understanding. She looked up at him, her eyes searching for reassurance and validation. Cupping her face in his hands, he met her gaze with unwavering sincerity. "But I know deep down, she knew how much you loved her. You did what you believed was best, and even if she couldn't express it in those last moments, I know your mom loved you more than words can say.”

His voice quivered slightly, tears welling up in his own eyes, but he remained resolute, keeping their connection unbroken. Her bottom lip found solace between her teeth, a sign that she was trying to hold back her tears. She nodded, finding solace in his words, burying her face back into the nape of his neck.

As she managed to calm herself, her breathing shaky but steady, Andy's tears began to fall silently down his cheeks. Still, he held her tightly in his arms, his love and support unwavering. He brought his lips close to hers, placing a tender kiss upon them, a gesture of comfort and affection.

She pulled away slightly, her eyes searching his face as she cupped his cheek. "Don't you cry too? Please?" she whispered, her thumbs gently wiping away the tears that streaked his cheeks. His lips formed a tight-lipped smile, his hands moving down her arms to envelop her hands with his own.

"Hey, can you excuse us? I want to talk to my wife alone," Andy interjected, a hint of playfulness in his tone. She couldn't help but smile at his words, appreciating his effort to lighten the mood. Her father chuckled softly, understanding the need for privacy. "Nothing dirty, sir. Or raunchy. Promise," Andy added, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Y/N's father snickered, his laughter a bittersweet mix of emotions. "Okay, I'll leave you two young kids alone," he said, his voice tinged with a touch of sadness. But before he made his exit, she placed her hand on her father's shoulder, her expression filled with gratitude and understanding. "You don't need to keep walking on eggshells around me, Dad," she reassured him, her voice filled with warmth. Her father returned her smile, tears still glistening in his eyes. "I know you've been strong all day. Stronger than any other girl I know. You look exhausted. Please go lie down. Take a break.”

Her father's concern touched her heart, knowing that he worried for her well-being amidst the overwhelming grief. She nodded, her voice choked with emotion. "Okay, Dad." She gave him a sad, tight-lipped smile before making her way up the stairs and into their shared bedroom.

She sat on the edge of the bed, the weight of her emotions pressing upon her. She kicked off her shoes, and began to undress, her mind swirling with thoughts and uncertainties. The bottled-up grief threatened to consume her. She wondered if a small nap and a hot bath would provide some respite, or if the lack of sleep and constant nightmares would further exacerbate her pain.

Lost in her thoughts, she was caught off guard when Andy entered the room. He sat beside her, his presence a comforting anchor in the midst of her turmoil. His hands gently took hold of hers, his eyes locked onto hers with unwavering love and concern. "How are you feeling, honey?" Andy asked, his voice filled with tenderness.

Her eyebrows raised, and she realized that amidst her own pain, she hadn't taken the time to consider how Andy was coping with their loss. She hesitated for a moment before speaking up again. "Andy," she began, her voice filled with a mix of vulnerability and curiosity. "How are you holding up?” He froze. He wanted to break down, to cry, scream, yell. But seeing her already vulnerable, the thought of sharing his emotions in that moment. She didn't need to deal with any of his bullshit on top of everything else.

Her voice trembled as she cut Andy off, her desperation evident. "Please tell me," she pleaded, her eyes searching his for answers. "Please, I want to know."

There was a moment of silence, filled with the weight of their shared grief, before Andy found his voice. "This really sucks," he finally spoke, his words heavy with the raw truth of their situation.

Y/N remained quiet, waiting for him to elaborate, to offer some semblance of understanding. "This fucking sucks. And that's okay," he continued, his tone filled with a mix of resignation and acceptance.

She nodded, her expression unwavering, as she processed his words. It wasn't the response she had hoped for, nor was it the answer she had sought. But in that moment, they both realized that there were no right words or perfect explanations for the pain they were experiencing. They were navigating uncharted territory, and all they had was their love for each other to guide them through.

"I'm sorry, Andy," Her voice wavered with a mix of guilt and sorrow. "I've been so consumed by my own depression that I haven't thought to ask how you're feeling during all of this." She sighed, her gaze falling to their entwined hands, seeking solace in their connection.

Andy's eyes softened, filled with understanding and empathy. "Babe, no, don't do that," he reassured her, his voice gentle yet firm. "Don't beat yourself up over how you think you should have felt or acted. Everyone deals with grief and depression in their own ways. Sometimes, our reactions are different, and that's okay." He gently placed his hand over hers, offering comfort and reassurance.

Tears welled in the corners of her eyes, a mix of sadness and guilt washing over her. She had already shed so many tears in the past weeks, yet they still managed to haunt her, carrying the weight of her emotions. Guilt for missing her mother, for mourning her absence, and guilt for feeling relieved that her mother was no longer suffering in that cold hospice room, alone.

Andy interrupted her self-loathing, his finger gently lifting her chin, redirecting her gaze to meet his. Her glossy eyes locked with his, and he moved his finger from her chin to caress the side of her face, a tender smile gracing his lips. "Remember our vows?" he asked softly, his voice filled with love and conviction.

Tears blurred her vision as her chin trembled, but a bittersweet smile found its way to her lips as she reminisced. "In sickness and in health, for better or worse, 'til death do us part," she whispered, her voice filled with the weight of their commitment.

Andy nodded, pulling her closer into his embrace, seeking solace in their shared strength. "What we have now could be so much worse," he murmured, his voice filled with gratitude and love. "And the fact that we've managed to make it here, through all that we've faced, just further proves to me that what we have is real. It's forever.”

She chuckled sadly, tears streaming down her face, as she shook her head in disbelief. Her eyes met Andy's once again, a mixture of sorrow and love reflected in her gaze. "You've always been so optimistic," she managed to laugh softly, her voice tinged with sadness. She reached up to wipe the tears from her cheeks, a bittersweet smile playing on her lips. "That's one of the things I love about you, Andy.”

He beamed at her, pulling her even closer as they embraced, seeking solace in each other's presence. Andy buried his head in Y/N's neck, giving her a tender squeeze, before whispering, "I love you, so, so much.”

They sat in silence, wrapped in the warmth of their embrace, until she decided it was time to retire to bed. She stood up, pulling the covers back and sliding herself under them. Andy had already changed into more comfortable clothes, lying next to her on his back. The feeling of the soft mattress beneath his body eased some of the tension that had built up within him.

She bit her lower lip, her knees pressed together as she pondered her thoughts. "How do you do it?" she whispered, her gaze fixed on Andy's face as he smiled warmly at her. She inched closer, tracing her fingertip lightly along his bare chest. "

How do you stay so... optimistic all the time?" Her voice remained low as she rested her head on his shoulder, their fingers intertwined. The desire for physical intimacy welled up within her, a craving for connection and solace in his embrace.

"Because of you," he replied simply, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to her hairline. His fingers danced lightly up the back of her arm, causing a shiver to run down her spine as she moved her body closer to his. She tilted her head up, her eyes pleading and searching. Andy understood what she yearned for, what she needed. He wanted to ensure she was ready, that they were both in the same place emotionally.

He brought his hand up to stroke the side of her face, his thumb wiping away a stray tear that had escaped her eye. Meeting her gaze, he silently asked for permission. She nodded, her heart filled with longing. Andy shifted his position, hovering over her, propping himself up on his elbow as he leaned down, his lips gently brushing against hers.

"Andy, take away the pain. Please?" she whispered, her eyes locked onto his, filled with a mixture of vulnerability and desire.

Andy couldn't deny her request, not at this moment, not when she looked at him with such longing and trust. "Of course," he murmured, his voice filled with love and devotion.

And with that, his lips crushed against hers as she eagerly accepted them. She parted her lips as his tongue slipped inside, their tongues massaging each other, desperate for contact. Andy moved his hand down, sliding her panties off as his lips trailed her neck. Y/N let out a small whimper, Andy's lips pressing kisses to the area right below her ear.

"So beautiful.”

His hand slid down between her legs, his fingertips brushing against her already swollen clit, making her shudder. Her hips bucked slightly at the touch. Andy's thumb began circling her clit as his middle finger teased her entrance. His lips trailed down her throat before returning back to her mouth, capturing them in a passionate kiss. He pushed his finger into her wet pussy, and she moaned into his mouth.

He broke their kiss and pulled his finger out before bringing them to his lips, sucking them clean of Y/N's juices. His tongue danced along her bottom lip and Y/N pulled away, giving Andy room to continue his path. His mouth closed over her left nipple, biting lightly. She moaned louder this time, Andy's hand caressing her breast before his lips moved on, repeating the same movements to her right breast, eliciting a gasp from her.

He sucked gently before releasing her nipple, pulling away as her heart sped. His fingertips brushed against her sides lightly as she watched him. His blue eyes connected with hers, smirking slightly.

She gasped again, his fingers entering her slick channel, her juices dripping onto his fingers. He pressed his mouth against her inner thigh, tasting her for the first time in ages before lapping her clit teasingly with his tongue, his fingers moving deeper. Her eyes fluttered shut at the contact, Andy's tongue circling her clit, his fingers moving faster, her body arching. He sucked on her clit, sending shock waves through her body as she moaned, her walls fluttering around his fingers. She came hard.

As he pulled his fingers from her entrance, Andy pressed his mouth against hers passionately once again, their tongues massaging against each other again. She moaned when his hardened cock grazed the inside of her thigh, Andy positioning himself at her entrance, her hands gently tangling in his hair. She nodded, encouraging him to continue.

As he slid himself inside her, they moaned together, wrapping her arms around his shoulders,and pressing her face against his. He was filling her completely. He kissed her forehead tenderly, then her cheek. His blue eyes were glossy.

"Y/N.." He whispered softly, stroking her cheek with his thumb.

His mouth returned to hers, passionately and with need, slowly pumping in and out. Andy could hear her panting, his heart pounding harder, their bodies moving together as if they were made for one. He broke their kiss again, moaning slightly. He cupped her face, locking eyes with her again.

"I-Fuck, hun!" He cried out, as he felt the pressure building inside him again, thrusting deeper in slow rhythmic beats. She bit down on her bottom lip, desperately trying to quiet her moans.

"Shh. We have to be quiet, remember?" she whispered, her hand caressing the side of his cheek. Andy groaned softly against her as he continued pumping inside her. "I know. It's just...You feel so good…"

He quickened his pace again, moaning against her neck, his breath hot on her skin as he buried himself to the hilt. She came quickly, moaning Andy's name and her walls contracted around him. He could feel himself exploding and his hot seed fill her cunt.

As they rode out their orgasms together, his lips sought hers, pressing against her forcefully as their bodies stilled and her muscles relaxed. Andy collapsed beside her on his back with a small 'oof,' still catching his breath. She curled herself against his side, resting her head on his chest with a smile, letting the wave of post-orgasmic bliss wash over them.

Andy tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and kissed her forehead.

"Thank you," Y/N mumbled, barely conscious as sleep overcame her. Andy pulled her body into his, spooning her. He knew how much she needed this. To feel loved. To know that he was always there for her. And no matter what, no matter what happened or what would happen, he would be.

He sighed, planting a small kiss on her temple before wrapping an arm around her waist. "Sleep, honey. I'm right here, Y/N. Always." Andy whispered reassuringly, a small smile forming on his lips, his arms and body curling into her as she drifted into a peaceful sleep.

The next few days became a blur, and as the reception began after the funeral, she wasted no time in seeking solace in alcohol. She had felt like a slave to her emotions for far too long, but not today, not at her mother's funeral. She would drown her pain with drinking, numbing herself to the overwhelming grief.

Secluded in one of the empty rooms of the church, she hid away from the other guests. Her bloodshot eyes widened when she heard the door open, revealing Andy on the other side. Sniffling, she wiped her nose with the back of her hand, her cheeks stained with tears.

"I'm sorry, I know I should be out there," Andy said as he sat down on the pew beside her. "But I wanted to see how you were doing.”

She sniffled again, wiping her cheeks, shaking her head as fresh tears threatened to spill over. She lifted her glass, the red wine inside almost depleted.

"I just can't feel anything right now, Andy," she said, her voice cracking slightly as she took another large gulp from her glass. "I just need something. I need..." She paused, her hand covering her mouth to stifle another sob.

Andy could see the profound sadness and defeat etched on his wife's face. He scooted closer, leaning his forehead against her own, seeking to offer whatever comfort he could.

"Baby," Andy whispered, his voice filled with love and compassion. "I wish I could take away your pain. I wish I could alleviate all of your suffering..." He moved his hand to gently cup her face, feeling the wetness of her tears against his warm skin.

"I love you more than anything." His thumb brushed away another stray tear from her cheek as he leaned in, pressing his lips gently against hers, allowing the kiss to linger for a moment before pulling away. Her breathing became heavy, and Andy knew that she needed this moment, this shared connection amidst the somberness of the funeral.

She kissed him back harder, tears still stinging her eyes and she swallowed them down before Andy broke their kiss. He pulled his arms around her, holding her tightly in his arms. His heartbeat quickened, his hand moving down to caress her inner thigh, shivering under his touch as he moved his palm under her dress and along her slit, she moaned softly as his finger slid inside her, thrusting slowly.

Andy's fingers gently rubbed her swollen clit as he leaned over Y/N against her inner thigh, causing another moan from her again. "Let me make you feel better. Let me make you forget, even if it's just for a moment," he mumbled against the shell of her ear. She nodded again weakly, Andy continuing his motions as she leaned in close, moaning loudly when he slipped a second finger inside her, moving faster.

He began kissing every inch of her skin as he pressed a third finger inside her slick pussy, bucking her hips up to meet Andy's fingers as they began moving faster again. She moaned loudly again with need when Andy's fingers slid in and out of her as his thumb rubbed small circles against her clit. He licked his lips before bringing them to the shell of her ear, biting it lightly as she let another loud moan escape her again. Andy rubbed harder as she squirmed slightly, her hips rising more.

"Oh god!”

"Shhh, baby," he whispered, causing another shiver before he kissed her hungrily, in an effort to quiet her moans. Andy continued stroking her as he pushed his finger deeper until she exploded around him, covering his fingers with her juices. When he removed his hand, she grabbed his face, crushing her mouth onto his lips before pulling away reluctantly and looking deep into his blue eyes as they sparkled under the sunlight peering through the window.

"Andy I..." she breathed out as more tears came streaming down her face, which she quickly tried to hide. He wiped her cheeks with his fingers lovingly before placing small kisses all over them.

He then pulled away as she lifted the back of her dress to clean herself slightly off before settling back into a comforting cuddle with him. Her face was streaked with tears, but a sense of peace seemed to wash over her. Her hand ran slowly across Andy's chest and neck, her touch gentle and soothing, before she brought her lips against his, kissing him deeply as the rest of the world melted away.

Even after the funeral, the pain seemed relentless, refusing to subside. Most days, Y/N stayed confined to the bedroom or distanced herself from Andy. She found herself pushing him away, a behavior she had vowed never to indulge in. Yet, here she was, sulking in bed, the ache in her heart growing with each passing moment. Initially, she had thought that drowning her sorrows in alcohol would help, but it only made her feel more miserable.

She longed for her mother, and no amount of anything could fill the void left by her absence. Andy's efforts, no matter how earnest, couldn't seem to mend her pain. In some ways, Y/N even resented him for it, for his inability to take away her anguish.

At times, she questioned whether she was deserving of love. After all, Andy had other responsibilities to attend to. But deep down, there wasn't a day when she didn't yearn for his presence, wishing he could help restore a sense of normalcy to her shattered world.

The ache persisted within her chest, but this time, it felt different. Andy would be returning home from work soon, and she couldn't quite grasp how she should feel. Intimacy between them had been absent for weeks, following their recent argument which often culminated in her seeking solace through alcohol-induced sleep.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, she stared off into space, her mind lost in a sea of memories. Tears welled in her eyes, but she fought hard to keep them from spilling over. The front door swung open and shut with a loud thud, marking Andy's arrival. His familiar figure emerged through the hallway and into their shared room, freezing momentarily in the doorframe. She couldn't tear her gaze away from him, even as he stepped closer.

"Honey... I know you're going through a difficult time, and I understand. I struggle sometimes to provide you with the comfort you need, and it hurts me just as much as it hurts you," Andy began, his voice filled with sincerity. "Y/N, I want you to trust me."

Andy paused for a moment, allowing his words to sink in. She opened her mouth to respond, but Andy pressed on, not wanting to leave any thought unfinished.

"I want you to trust me," he continued earnestly. "I want you to know that everything I have ever done is out of love for you. I have always strived to protect you, provide for you, be there for you, comfort you, listen to you, support you, make love to you, and hold you through all your emotions, whether you're sad, happy, or even scared... even when you're angry. I have done all of that and more, and I will continue to do so."

She blinked back tears, her eyes watering as Andy moved closer, placing his hands gently on her hips. She looked down, unable to meet his gaze.

"I love you so incredibly much," Andy confessed, his voice filled with raw emotion. "If there was a way to make your pain easier, I would do it without hesitation. I would sacrifice anything because I cannot bear the thought of losing you. It would destroy me from the inside out, and if that were to happen... I think I would go mad, because that's how deeply I love and care for you. I know there have been doubts lately, and it hurts me to see you in such pain. Your pain is my pain, Y/N... I just want my wife back."

She couldn't hold back her tears any longer, and she began crying uncontrollably. The tears streamed down her face, and Andy pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her tightly. She buried her face into his chest, clinging onto him for support.

Her tears flowed freely as Andy tenderly placed his finger under her chin, gently lifting her face to meet his gaze. Their eyes locked, and he leaned in, softly pressing his lips against hers, kissing away each tear that ran down her cheeks. His warm breath against her skin provided a comforting solace. They stayed in that embrace for what felt like an eternity.

Finally, she looked up, her eyes gazing into Andy's once again. For the first time in months, she let go of her tears, feeling a sense of release and acceptance wash over her.

She sniffled, her voice filled with remorse. "I've been a terrible person, a terrible wife. My grief has consumed me to the point where I've been pushing you away since the funeral. It's all still a blur, but I remember the hurtful things I said, and... I do love you, Andy. Even though I haven't been showing it well at all." Her gaze dropped to their intertwined hands as she confessed her shortcomings. "But... I'm still struggling so much with my mom's loss. And I've been taking it out on you... And for that, I'm truly sorry."

She squeezed Andy's hands and brought them to her face, lifting her eyes to meet his gentle gaze as he smiled softly. She wiped away her tears before speaking again. "I'm sorry..."

Her face buried in his chest once more, she continued to sob, the tears flowing freely. Andy ran his hand soothingly over her hair, resting his head atop hers. With each tear that fell, he tenderly wiped it away with his thumb, placing soft kisses on her cheeks. Y/N continued to cry, her emotions overwhelming her, until she pulled back slightly, resting her cheek against Andy's chest once again. She closed her eyes, finding solace in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

"I forgive you," Andy assured her, pulling her face close and leaning down to kiss her forehead softly and slowly. She accepted his forgiveness with grace, allowing more tears to fall as he comforted her.

"I will always forgive you, honey. I will never leave you, no matter what. Even if you tried, it wouldn't be enough to make me go away. Because I love you with all my heart and my whole life. And if you let me, I'll spend the rest of my life showing you just how much I love you and making sure you feel as comfortable and loved as possible. Always."

He spoke softly, his voice filled with love and understanding, as he placed her hands against his heart with his own strong hands. He smiled warmly down at her, and she returned the smile, albeit with a hint of sadness.

"You deserve all the love and support in the world," Andy whispered, his words filled with sincerity. She leaned up, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, and he responded with a slow and tender kiss of his own. The connection between them felt comforting and reassuring.

She then took Andy's head between her palms, pulling him close against her, and pressed her forehead against his. Andy wrapped his strong arms protectively around her, holding her tightly. In that moment, they found solace and strength in each other's embrace, knowing that their love would help them navigate through the challenges they faced.

divider credit: @.saradika

#andy barber #andy barber x reader #andy barber x y/n #andy barber x female reader #andy barber x you #andy barber fanfic #chris evans #angst #grief #husband andy barber #andy barber oneshot.#angst with comfort #angst with a happy ending

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