#he is like pasta when the pot is too shallow

[sceletaflores]

thinking about needy art...just so desperate for you :((( always so horny and riled up :((( he needs you so bad he can't help it :(((

we love you girl!!!!!! pls don't die!!!!!!!!

-🧶

anon i was literally just thinking about this omfg we're so connected it's crazy (this lowkey wandered into a bit of puppy!art territory, @fawnnpaws your influence is too great <333)

and you're SO right!!! in my mind this is so married art coded. that man literally worships the ground you walk on, there's nothing he wouldn't do for his WIFE. the woman with HIS last name. the woman that wears HIS ring on your finger. you're his whole world.

you're cooking dinner when the front door creaks open, the sound of art dropping his keys and bag clear from where you're stood at the stove.

he's always a keyed up, horny monster after practice, so you're not surprised when two strong arms wrap around your waist from behind. art clings to you like a second skin, pressing his chest to your back and hooking his chin over your shoulder, a sweet "hey baby," muttered into your hair.

you hum, not looking away from the pasta coming to a boil in front of you. "have a good practice?"

art nods, burying his nose in your hair and inhaling your familiar scent. "missed you," he says, voice going all light and airy. it makes you smile, stirring the pasta calmly as art starts grinding against your ass in small circles. you wonder if he even knows he's doing it or if he's more gone than you first thought.

"i did so good today, you'd be so proud of me," he rambles, brushing his lips over your neck as he speaks. his arms tighten around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer.

"yeah? hope you worked up an appetite, it's almost ready." your tone is overly casual, like you're not soaking your panties at the feel of art's thick cock through the thin fabric of your sweats. but it's all part of the game, ignoring him only works him up more.

"i could eat," he pants against your skin, a pointed roll of his hips pushes you closer to the stove. "god, i couldn't stop thinking about you." he groans, finally done pretending that it's dinner he cares about. he trails wet kisses down your neck, his hands slipping up under your shirt to paw at the lacy cups of your bralette.

the pot's water snaps and pops in warning, threatening the bare expanse of your stomach. you push art's hands down but he's not deterred, dropping them to knead at the meat of your hips.

"let's go to bed," he suggests into the crook of your neck, his breathing starting to get a little faster as he grinds against you with a purpose.

it's tempting, but you're not done cooking yet, and you know this won't take long.

"no," you say dismissively, turning the heat down to let the sauce pan on another burner slow to a simmer.

art whines, nuzzling deeper into your neck. his hand slides around, slipping between your legs to rub your cunt through your bottoms. "please?"

you sigh contently at his touch, letting your head drop to his shoulder. you let yourself get lost in him for a few seconds before you push his hand away again and cast your gaze back to the food, "no."

"the couch?" he tries, "it's just right there, in the living room. i can eat you out, i'll make you feel so good."

you bite your lip, stifling a smile at his needy begging. you bob your head side to side lightly, a considering noise passing through your lips before you deny him for the third time, "no."

art swallows, his breath getting shallow. "right here, i could eat you out right here," he rambles, his hips speeding up. you can feel the wetness of his pre-come leaking through his own shorts to seep into yours. "i could fuck you right here, against the counter."

you hum noncommittally, adding more dried oregano. it's quiet, just the sound of art's ragged breathing and the hiss of the boiling water. art takes it upon himself to fill the silence.

"i could," he takes a shuddering breath, "we don't have to fuck, i could just eat you out. i could sit by your feet, you don't have to do anything. i can...i could, i could use your leg."

you almost give in, his sweet voice begging you to let him get his mouth on you too much. you don't have to see his face to know he's gone red and flush, embarrassed but too worked up to stop.

"you want me to abandon dinner because, why? you can't keep your dick down? i'm busy, art."

art’s breath hitches, his hands trembling as they grip your hips. "i’m sorry," he breathes out, though you know he’s anything but. the apology only makes him grind harder, chasing any scrap of attention you might throw his way. “please,” he whimpers, his voice cracking. “i just— i need it so bad. please, baby.”

you click your tongue in disapproval, shaking your head as you turn back to the stove, stirring the sauce with a slow, deliberate motion. “you’re such a mess, art. can’t even wait until dinner’s done before you start acting like a desperate slut, can you?”

art shudders behind you, his grip tightening on your waist as his hips jerk involuntarily. “i’m sorry,” he gasps out for the second time. “i just—fuck, i can’t help it. please, let me—”

"no, if you want to come in here and hump my leg like a desperate puppy, than that's how you're going to come."

art’s whimper is pitiful, his hips stuttering against you, driven by nothing but raw desire. he’s practically drooling, his breath hot and uneven against your neck as he desperately grinds himself against your thigh.

“please, please,” he chants, the word a broken prayer on his lips, but you don’t miss the way he shudders under your cruel tone, his body trembling with anticipation.

“god, you’re pathetic,” you say through a condescending laugh, “you can’t even control yourself for a second, can you? always so eager to make a mess. i should make you clean it up with your tongue.”

art comes in his boxers with a broken whine. the timer goes off a couple seconds later.

[thekrows-nest]

(anon)

Yeah, and Krow plants out any older onions and garlic that begin to sprout.  They started a sprig of rosemary from a random hedge in a jam jar of water, and now that it’s a mini shrub in a yogurt pot they use bits in pasta sauce. (Either made from simple fried garlic and oil with pepper when money is tight - or cooked down from any tomatoes that are split, damaged or mushy.)

During a ceramics phase they made a little terracotta self watering stake in the shape of a bird.

The small details I noticed aren’t much.

At the ends of Letty’s hair there were some sharp spreading pointed shapes that could have been ice crystals, hinting at supernatural powers. Her pale icy colouring fits that well. Letty is also shown preparing to snip the head off a rose which looks like a nod to Morticia. Extra fuel for ’more than meets the eye’.

TW violence/injury mention

The claw rings at the ends of her fingers were interesting as well.

I wondered if they were the cause of Gabe’s scars but they love each other. (?) Something extreme would have had to happen for that. (The shapes at the end of her hair could maybe be fur but that’s much less likely.) Werewolf Letty real? /j

No. The ones on his hand could be dragged claws but on his throat the mark looks too straight and clean. And it feels a bit too left field for the setting. Knowing nothing about them I’m going with Letty has ice crystals spreading from her, she’s possibly magic or of fae blood (flower and leaf motifs), and Gabe was possibly attacked by a bladed weapon. Or a rough thin rope or chain (less likely unless it was very abrasive or burned him magically).

I wondered if Gabe’s scars could give any hints about the nature of Gabby’s past traumatic experience. On him they do look like defence wounds.

They’re not on his palms as if he warded away someone in front of him, so it’s possible someone had a blade on his throat from behind and he instinctively put his palm up to his throat to grab/protect the wound, interfering with the blade(?) and getting a few cuts to the back of the hand in the struggle. The angle looks right.

That’s not perfect though unless it was an initial shallow slice (didn’t bleed out immediately) and the attacker tried to keep going or Gabe pushed the blade away in a few movements (two marks).

However the scars on the hand are explained for Gabby as serger accidents. And her throat seems to be unscarred. The collar of her shirt doesn’t look high enough to hide one.

Wild sloppy conjecture, Krowspiracy anon is losing their touch.

But if I can take yet another wild stab I think Gabe’s gold eyes ARE supernatural, even if Gabby’s are not/she specifically denies it. I get the feeling he’s stronger and faster to heal than a human. Not sure if werewolf of vampire or something else. The gold eyes look animalistic. But the brocade vest and Blade coat are giving me vampire 🤔 Perhaps someone tried to decapitate him.

I couldn’t make out any hints from the design on his belt buckle. It could be a tree or flames.

(adding in the second part of the ask too)

(anon)

Wait, I changed my mind. Zooming in on Gabe’s scars now and they don’t look clean and smooth like from a sharp blade.

They actually could have been made by one of the other three options mentioned.

Absolutely all that is on brand for Krow. You can totally cheaply grow your own garlic and onions just from getting sprouting ones from the grocery store. Green onions that have the roots, just put in a cup of water and they'll keep growing and you can keep using the greenery.

The lil water spout bird is a cute idea! Def making it canon he made such a thing.

As for Gabe and Letty... C:

(and yes, I was trying to do a redraw of a scene from Addam's Family for Letty since I have my own mental comparisons with her and Morticia.)

I will say that the scars on his hand are also the same as Gabby; inflicted by two separate serger incidents. The big one on his neck though... a completely different story.

As well, Gabe and Letty have a fair bit of a different story going on as opposed to Gabby and LT, which is to say, not everything that is true for Gabe and Letty is true for Gabby and LT and vice versa, such as Gabe having a huge neck scar and Gabby doesn't.

Since Gabe nor Letty are actually affiliated with the Krow Verse at all, I wouldn't mind revealing their lore. But if you'd prefer to keep theorizing that's cool too. :3

The theories you did present ARE neato hehe.

[ahearts-a-heavyburden]

Sophie was not the type of guest to make herself too welcome. No, her sisters called her 'the house mouse' for a reason. She tiptoed in and out of her room, left each spot as she found it. The only evidence she was home was the smell of baking and the neatly presented gifts.

Copper and Sophie missed each other quite often. He worked hours she slept through and she would spend her days looking for answers on Lady Miracle. Still, she showed her appreciation when she could. Sophie liked having a kitchen, a kitchen that wasn't Bones'. It was what she missed most about the cottage.

She smiled back at Copper, "It's good! If you like chicken parmesan, it's a decent substitute."

The eggplant sizzled in a shallow pan with oil when Sophie carefully laid them in. Her pasta sauce simmered in a small pot and she quickly tossed the package of spaghetti noodles into the boiling water. The woman turned the pot and pan handles to the side and kept an eye on the frying eggplant while she turned back to face her host. "There's a lot of moving parts here, but I'm hoping it turns out. How was work?"

@copper-russell

Before I Go || Cophie

[thinkingnot]

bless Ranboo’s spine and knees after twitchcon mans locked in crouch mode 🙏🙏🙏

[villainousshakespeare]

Bobby’s Playdate Part 3

Part 1, Part 2

The pandemic is keeping Tom idling in London by himself. One positive is that wearing the mask helps him avoid recognition, allowing him to wander in the park with his dog, Bobby. On one of their walks, Bobby becomes smitten with a dog named Lulu and Tom is equally enchanted by her human. Can the Hiddleston men manage to find a way to see the lovely ladies again?

Tom Hiddleston/OFC

Chapter 2 of4

Rated M - Pandemic, Fluff, Quarantine, Masks, Adorable Puppies, Meet Cute, Fourth and Final Part Will Contain Smut

@yespolkadotkitty @just-the-hiddles @hopelessromanticspoonie @wine-and-whines @arch-venus25 @caffiend-queen @devilish–doll @enchantedbyhiddles @hiddlesholic @i-do-not-fangirl-i-fanwoman @kellatron55 @ladyoftheteaandblood @latent-thoughts @gorgeous1974 @maryxglz @myoxisbroken @nuggsmum @nildespirandum @pedeka @redfoxwritesstuff @sinfully-lustful-darling @vodka-and-some-sass @wrathkitty @kingtwhiddleston @wolfsmom1 @poetic-fiasco @shiningloki @dangertoozmanykids101 @bookworm-christina @thecutestlittlebunbunfairy @amwolowicz @delightfulheartdream @frostbitten-written @what-a-flammable-heart @tom-hlover @nonsensicalobsessions @myraiswack @loki-yoursaviourishere, from-hel-i-with-love, @sweetsigyn, @fictiondoesitbetter, @ms-cellanies @evieplease @viviennes-tears @turniptitaness @cynic-spirit @spooky1980 @ghostypau @viviennes-tears @lady-loki-ren @loki-laufeyson965 @ohhhhmarkiloosecontrol @ghostypau @queeftheif @mousee555 @isimpforeveryonee @preferredrealty​

He was being a right arse, and what was worse he knew it.

Tom grimaced as he stirred his bolognaise sauce. So, she knew who he was, and had all along – what did that really change? Why did it make him so uncomfortable that she hadn’t said anything? After all, he had known as well and he certainly hadn’t brought it up. Was he upset that she had known and hadn’t fawned all over him? Could he really be that shallow? He had liked that she was just herself, allowing him to be himself as well. What was it then that was bothering him?

The timer rang for the pasta and he reached over to grab the oven mitt that usually hung by his stove and grimaced. Of course, he had put it away in the closet because it had a big, red Avengers logo on it. All of that running around he had done, stressing out Bobby and working up a sweat, and it had all been entirely pointless. He felt like the biggest idiot of all time.

Which was the problem, of course. Tom was used to being multiple steps ahead of everyone. He wasn’t conceited about it, well, not exactly, but he was quite often the smartest person in the room. He credited his teachers and a topnotch education, as well as his family of course, more than his own keen powers of observation. He had simply been taught from a young age how to think. It was an invaluable tool as an actor. It also meant that he was often left waiting for others to catch up. He was not, decidedly not, used to being the one feeling foolish for being wrong.

Yup. He was a complete and total arse.

Here he had a beautiful woman in his home, when he had begun to despair of such a thing ever being allowed again, much less happening. She was smart, charming, funny, and kind enough to realize that being a celebrity must be exhausting and discussing it could get tedious. And how had he repaid her for her consideration? By running out of the room and leaving her doubtless wondering at his manners, if not his sanity.

Tom dipped a spoon in and tasted the sauce. This had better be the best meal he had ever made if he wanted to make up for the mess he had made of things so far!

“Everything okay in here?” Leia’s voice asked from the kitchen doorway as Tom was using a tea towel to carry the pasta pot to the strainer in the sink.

“Aside from you spending the evening with a complete prat, everything is fine,” he said with a self-depreciating laugh.

“You know, there are things called oven mitts,” she grinned at him. “Maybe we should go online and order you some.”

“I have them,” he sighed. “I put them away for tonight.”

“So you could experiment with first degree burns? Is that research for a role or something?”

“They were… branded.”

“Like a cow?” she blinked at him.

“No… like Marvel. Avengers branded. So, I hid them.”

“Tom,” Leia was obviously trying to hide a grin that tugged at the edges of her mouth, “did you hide all your movie memorabilia before I came over? Is that why your house looks like the display room from an upscale furniture store rather than a lived-in home?”

“Maybe,” he mumbled, face turning red as he looked back at the stove.

“That must have been a lot of work. How long did it take you?”

“Most of the day. What are you doing?” he asked at the strange contortions her face was making.

“Trying to visualize the reverse scavenger hunt. Hold on…” she scrunched up her nose and he could see her picturing his lunacy in her mind. “Okay, that was fun!”

“Glad I could amuse you,” he grumbled.

“As every good host would be!” she grinned at him. “And then Lulu went and ruined it by digging up the Loki toy. Well, leave it to the Trickster God to upset the best laid plans. But really, is it such a big deal that I know?”

Tom closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. She really was being sweet about the whole fiasco of his running into the house. Perhaps, if he could regain some of his own composure, it didn’t have to be the biggest fumble in the history of first dates. He just had to take a cue from her and try to find the situation amusing rather than humiliating.

“It is not,” he said at last. “Thank you for taking it all so well. Now, dinner is almost ready, I just need to put it on the plates.”

“My I use the loo then?” she asked.

“Of course. Second door on your right.”

“Thanks. I’ll meet you back outside. Oh, and be careful – Lulu may look innocent, but she will steal any food off your plate if you turn your back on her!”

“Wonderful, then she and Bobby will have even more to bond over,” he remarked, rolling his eyes.

“Between the two of them we’ll be lucky if there’s any food left for us.”

“Good thing I made extra then.”

“Oh, before I go – there are still hand towels in the bathroom, right? They didn’t get squirreled away for having horns on them or something?”

“No, the hand towels are purely Only Lovers Left Alive, and I assumed that was enough of a deep dive to keep any but the most ardent fan in the dark.”

“You’d be surprised, people love a good vampire flick!” she teased, as she headed off down the hall.

Tom took another steadying breath. So, she not only knew of him from the Avengers franchise, and from the London stage, but she had seen at least one of his indie films as well. Which meant, he suddenly realized, that she had seen more of him than he had realized. Squirming a bit, he plated the food and carried it outside. He would be sure not to bring up high rise, he decided. He had heard rumors about people pausing the playback on a certain scene, and he preferred to stay in the dark about her exposure to that.

By the time Leia joined him out at the table, Tom had managed to calm down a bit. He would have needed to tell her about his job eventually any way; at least now he could enjoy the rest of the evening without the fear of her reaction hanging over his head. The food had served up nicely, and he poured a friendly serving of wine into each of their glasses. Bobby and Lulu were already sniffing around at his feet, hoping for clumsy hands to drop offerings to their greedy mouths.

“Back off you two hellions,” he told them good naturedly. “Haven’t you already done enough damage tonight to the possibility of my getting a second date?”

***

Leia froze in the doorway, eyes going large. Had she heard that right? Had Tom just used the word date to describe the evening?

She had hoped it was a date, of course. She had even called it one to herself and her dog as she was getting ready. Still, she had not quite been able to convince herself that it was anything more than what he had sold it as – a playdate opportunity for their canine companions. After all, a handsome, charming, world famous movie star such as him could date anyone. Why would he want to be with her when the entire glamourous world was his for the taking?

Looking down, she realized that her hands were shaking. His befuddlement at the discovery of his identity had been charmingly adorable, and it had the wonderful side affect of allowing her to feel less awkward herself to see him so out to sea. It gave her back a modicum of power. That was gone now with one word from him that she was not even meant to hear.

“Oh, hi!” he smiled, seeing her in the door and standing up like the perfect gentleman he was despite their outside, casual location. “Dinner’s served.”

“It smells divine,” she told him, and rolled her eyes inwardly at the gushing word.

“Well, I am a God you know,” he smirked, and then blushed and looked embarrassed.

What was happening? They had been so comfortable outside in the park! Just two regular adults enjoying each other’s company and the relatively fresh air of suburban London. Now though, now that she knew he meant it as a date, and he knew she knew he was an actor it was all awkward.

“So, do you have any mischief in mind for tonight?” she asked.

“I suppose that depends on how the night goes,” he gave her a devastating wink.

Wait, was he flirting with her now? Ack! She didn’t know what to think, but her body certainly responded to that comment. Wanting a distraction, she shoved a forkful of pasta in her mouth and let out an involuntary moan of pleasure at the delicious taste.

“Is it okay?” he asked, despite her clear approval of his efforts.

“It’s amazing!” she told him, as soon as her mouth was empty. “Jesus Tom, on top of everything else you can cook too?”

“Eh heh heh heh,” he laughed, obviously delighted. “I’m afraid I am full of flaws, but I will do my best to hide them from you for as long as possible. I’m glad you like it.”

“You’ll have to give me the recipe!” she demanded, taking a long drink of the wine that paired perfectly with it.

“Ah no. If I do that, what incentive will there be for you to come back?”

“I don’t think you have to worry about that,” she looked up at him over her wine glass. “After all, Lulu is having such a good time, she would never forgive me if I deprived her of more free time with Bobby.”

“Right. Yes. Lulu and Bobby.”

“It’s why we’re here, after all,” she shrugged, not knowing why she was pushing it so hard.

“Oh, I almost forgot!”

Tom shot out of his chair, startling the dogs who both started yipping in irritation. He jogged into the house, and a moment later came out with a beat’s pill speaker in hand. Placing it on the table, he fiddled with it until music straight out of a café in Venice started crooning out of it.

“The perfect final touch!” he said proudly.

“I can almost see the canal in the distance!” she told him with a laugh.

“I would pole you out, but I’m afraid my boat is not handy.”

He suddenly blushed again, and Leia had a quick flash of where his mind had gone. They both turned crimson and occupied themselves with the food for a few minutes in charged silence.

Leia could feel the tension sparking between them, but she had no idea how to act upon it. She could not think of any time in her past where she had been in a similar situation. How could she have been, when she had never met a man in her life like the one sitting across from her.

The song switched to a slower song, still Italian, and she noticed that Tom was tapping his fork against his plate in rhythm with it. He noticed her gaze and chuckled, eyes twinkling.

“You should see me with spoons,” he told her.

A moment later, he was on his feet again (really, he seemed incapable of sitting still tonight) and placing his napkin on his chair. Holding out one hand to her he raised his eyebrows in question.

“May I have this dance?”

As Leia hesitated, he face fell. Stepping back, Tom put his hands behind his back and dropped his head apologetically.

“I am so sorry,” he rushed to say. “I completely forgot. Of course, we are in the middle of a pandemic. The last thing we should be doing is dancing. Hands touching, standing close together. I am so, so sorry.”

“Tom, Tom!” Leia interrupted his contrition. “Stop apologizing! If I was concerned about catching the virus from you, I wouldn’t be eating the food you cooked! We both got tested, remember?”

“Are you sure, because you didn’t look –“

“I was worried about crushing your feet,” she admitted, stepping towards him. “I am not exactly what you would call graceful.”

“Well, I am hardly Baryshnikov,” he demurred. “But if you’ll allow me…”

He offered his hand again, and this time Leia took it. It was the first time they had touched, and she almost jumped at the spark that passed from his fingers to hers. His grip was firm, and he drew her in so that she was held firm against his chest. His other arm came around to rest his hand on her lower back, and she had to remind herself to breath as she was held in his embrace.

“Look at me,” he said as she obeyed instantly. In part it was because it was what she wanted to do, but it was also a reaction to the note of command in his voice. Even though it was soft, there was a note in it that was to be obeyed. “Good girl.”

As he led her around the little yard in what she realized was a waltz, Leia felt her last bit of restraint melting away. She wanted this man desperately and there was no denying it. His hips moving against her, his hand burning a hole through her dress, his low singing along with the song, it all had her ready to drop to her knees and beg him to take her.

“I love dancing,” he said, stating the obvious. “Especially with the right partner.”

“Sorry you’re missing that,” she tried for humor.

“Quite the contrary,” he didn’t rise to the bait, looking her straight in the eye and keeping his voice serious. “I can think of no one else I would rather be dancing with. You must know that you are all that has made the last month bearable. I look forward to our afternoon walks more than I can say.”

“Me too,” she whispered, tongue swiping over her lips. She saw his eyes flicker to them and then return to hers slightly darker.

Her breath caught and she was certain that he was going to kiss her when a loud crashing noise brought them both up short. Spinning around, they saw Tom’s plate laying on the ground, Lulu and Bobby shamelessly sharing the spoils of their raid like a modern day Lady and Tramp.

“Bobby! Bad dog!” Tom barked, advancing on them.

“Oh, Lulu! You naughty girl!” Leia scolded at the same time.

As Tom advanced on them, the dogs took off in the direction of the tree, trailing sauce in their wake. Tom stomped after them, eyes narrowed while Leia picked up the plate and mopped up some of the mess with his napkin.

“Bobby, stay!” Tom snapped, snapping his fingers.

Bobby dropped to his haunches with a whimper while Lulu headed back towards Leia and the remaining food.

“You too, sit girl!”

He snapped again and Leia, on sheer instinct, set the plate down with a clatter and sat on the chair, hands folding in her lap and eyes looking up towards him, Lulu sitting at her feet.

Tom’s face, facing her, went completely still for one long moment. Leia could feel a nervous energy rise in her stomach until a slow, Cheshire cat smile spread across his face. The dogs forgotten, he looked at her with a sparking intensity that made her weak as he crossed to where she sat.

“Well,” he drawled, “isn’t that interesting.”

[clumsyclifford]

I'll drive you to the hospital. with my boys lashton maybe? love you!! -fiancee

you know i think it says a lot about me that i could have easily made this very angsty but instead i made the active decision not to. this is growth

(tw for a bit of blood)

read on ao3

-

Things that are a good idea: universal healthcare, holding hands on cold days, turning off lights when leaving a room.

Things that are not a good idea: Luke Hemmings attempting to cook dinner on his own with no supervision.

The lack of supervision is his own insistence. When he’d first offered to make dinner, Ashton had very unsubtly indicated that he didn’t think Luke should take that on alone.

(“I’m not sure you should take that on alone,” he’d said. Luke doesn’t care for paraphrasing.)

Luke, however, had persisted. Now, standing in the kitchen with a Very Large Knife in one hand and a cutting board on the counter in front of him, he’s starting to regret this somewhat.

Most of the dinner had been fairly simple. Luke had successful boiled water — the right amount of water — and now the spaghetti is happily cooking away in the pot. Phase one of the meal is smoothly underway. It’s just phase two that’s a problem.

Luke is not good with knives.

He knows this about himself. Ashton knows this about him. His entire family knows it about him. Luke has a bad history with knives. Namely, he tends to injure himself whenever one ends up in his possession. Never intentionally. He’s just clumsy, okay? And clumsy plus knives has never equalled safety. 

However. There comes a time in every man’s life in which he must learn to master a knife. Luke is not going to die unable to use a knife. He is going to cut this cucumber, god damn it, and then he will peel and cut the carrots, and in short he will be unstoppable. He and Ashton will have a delicious, healthy salad tonight. If it kills Luke.

Which. Like. Hopefully it won’t. Ideally it will not even lightly maim Luke. But with this overdose of optimism must come a healthy shot of realism.

“Alright, let’s do this,” Luke says, pushing up his sleeves. On second thought, he pulls off the flannel entirely, tossing it across the room so it lands on the tabletop. “You and me, cucumber. I’m not scared of you. I’m talking to you like you can hear me, which makes me sound insane, but that doesn’t scare me either.”

“Luke?” Ashton pokes his head into the kitchen. “Doing okay?”

“If you check on me one more time, I will commit violent acts with this large knife,” Luke says, pointing the knife threateningly in Ashton’s direction.

Ashton frowns deeply. “Can you blame me?”

“Have some trust,” Luke says.

“ Have some trust,’ he says.” Ashton snorts. “Show me you can use a standard kitchen knife without damaging yourself and I will.”

“I’m not going to die. It’s just a cucumber.”

“Mhm.” Ashton crosses his arms, raising an eyebrow. “Go on, then.”

Luke glares at Ashton. “Get out! I’m working here.”

Ashton sighs heavily. “Fine. But if you need—”

“Out!”

Ashton stalks away, probably to go eavesdrop or read cooking blogs and think about how much better he is in the kitchen than Luke. 

“Okay,” Luke mutters, lining up the knife. “Here we go. Control. Precision. Focus. Olympic fucking figure skater levels.”

He probably sets a record for slowest, most painstaking process of cutting a cucumber ever. But somehow, miraculously, all body parts come out intact on the other side.

Luke whoops. “Fuck yeah! That’s how it’s done!” He points the knife at the cucumber, now in pieces on the cutting board. “I am the captain now!”

This is good. No, this is great. Luke is confident as he slides the cucumbers to the side to make space for the carrots. For the first time in Luke’s memory, he’s bested the knife. He is no longer at the mercy of a culinary tool slash impromptu weapon. 

He never saw the peeler coming.

Nobody warns you about the peeler. There are no cautionary tales about children with peelers. No movies where the bad guy improvises a weapon with a peeler found in a drawer. So, really, Luke thinks this is an honest mistake.

This, unfortunately, does not help his current situation.

“Fuck! Motherfucker, are you fucking kidding me?”

“Luke?” Ashton rushes in like he’s got a fucking radar for Luke Fucking Up. Luke drops the peeler to the counter and gathers the fingers of his left hand with his right. The blade of the peeler had nicked him right over the knuckle of his thumb, and the blood is running down his finger thanks to the juice from the carrot. It stings like a bitch, although it definitely looks worse than it is. This is the only reason Luke can find for Ashton’s eyes going wide and his next words being, “Oh my fucking god, Luke. Are you okay? What happened?”

“I just cut myself—”

“I’ll drive you to the hospital, you can worry about dinner another night, I fucking told you—”

“Relax, Ashton, it’s not that bad,” Luke says, sidestepping him to get to the sink. He hisses as the cold water runs over the injury, but once the blood rinses away it’s obvious this is not more than a shallow cut. “Just a flesh wound.”

“This is not funny.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Luke promises, bending his thumb and extending it under the faucet. “The fucking peeler got me, that’s all.”

“Did you peel towards you?”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Towards,” Ashton says, holding up the peeler and miming a peeling action towards his body. “Rather than away.” He flips the peeler around and does the reverse action.

“Ah,” Luke says. “Yeah, then.” He smiles sheepishly. “Oops? Lesson learned.”

“You don’t have to be so, like…prideful, or whatever, you know,” Ashton says, bringing the peeler over to the sink. Luke takes it from his hands and runs it under the water, rinsing the blade. “Nobody expects you to be able to make a whole meal with as little experience as you have, least of all me. There’s nothing wrong with asking for help.”

“I think it’s fucking ridiculous that I can’t cook a simple dinner,” Luke counters. “And I can. I’ve just hit a snag.”

“Please let me help you,” Ashton begs. “I won’t be condescending or anything.”

“I know you won’t.”

“So then what’s the problem? Dignity or something?”

“I just— I don’t know.” Luke chews his lip and reaches to turn off the faucet. His finger still hurts, so he tears a paper towel and wraps it around his knuckle. “You’d be judging me for everything I don’t know.”

“I am not judging you, Luke, I promise,” Ashton says gently. “I get it. It’s not a skill you’re born with, it’s something you have to learn. But I don’t think hurting yourself is the way to learn.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” Luke grumbles.

Ashton takes another paper towel and hands it to Luke, and Luke stares at it for a moment before sighing and accepting it. “That’s my point,” Ashton says. “It was just a mistake because you didn’t know better. You don’t have to make the mistake to learn from it, you know. Other people have made the mistake. People like me. You think I didn’t cut myself the first time I tried to peel a potato? You’re supposed to learn from other people’s mistakes, too.”

Luke takes a deep breath. “It’s just cooking,” he says. “Not that deep.” 

“If it’s not that deep, then please let me help you,” Ashton says. “Teamwork. It’ll go faster this way.”

The paper towel in Luke’s hand is damp now, and the one around his thumb is stained red. A timer goes off. 

“That’s the pasta,” Luke says. He sighs. “Fine, you can help. Deal with the pasta. It has to have sauce on it. I think. I’m sure you’ll know what to do.” He lifts his hand. “I’m going to get a plaster.”

“You didn’t bleed on any of the food, did you?”

Luke shakes his head. “Be right back.”

Ashton nods and smiles. “Sorry for being pushy,” he says. “But I really just don’t want you to make the dumb kitchen mistakes I made.”

“I know,” Luke says, and even smiles back. “Sorry for being stupid and stubborn.”

“Ah, we all have flaws,” Ashton says, ruffling Luke’s hair. “I wouldn’t love you if you weren’t stupid and stubborn.”

“Personally, I wouldn’t mind if you weren’t so pushy,” Luke says, laughing over Ashton’s loud mock-offended gasp and scurrying out of the kitchen to Ashton calling rude things to his back.

[heybrewtiful]

Headcanon

FINALLY - (it’s not quite midnight here... so it’s officially still my headcanon of the day!).

I think we all agree that Nicky loves to cook, and most likely loves opera. And it’s well known that opera and food go well together. 

This is very NSFW - so putting it under a cut...

(Also had to rush to finish this because my daughter was hanging around and wasn't too keen on her seeing this!)

I think we all agree that Nicky loves to cook, and most likely loves opera. And it’s well known that opera and food go well together.

Joe is laying spread-eagled across the bed. His face is buried in a mountain of pillows, with his mouth slightly open, a small snore escaping his lips. Slowly though his snores become shallower, as his starts to awaken.

The top sheet is covering most of his body, with just his right butt cheek and leg poking out. His foot is dangling over the edge of the mattress, and is bathed in the late-afternoon sun. Toes wriggle ever so slightly, as Joe begins to stir.

He blinks once. Twice.

Joe lifts his head groggily, and smacks his dry lips together as he looks around and realises he’s alone.

Something has woken him, and he can’t quite work out what.

Then... he realises what it was.

He can hear the strains of the Puccini opera ‘Turandot’, and every now and then a dramatic yet slightly off-key (but in an absolutely adorable way) voice.

Nicky adores Puccini; to him it’s ‘modern music’. (Quite frankly anything less than 200 years old is modern to them!)

Joe grins, and buries his face in the pillow again. He screws his eyes tightly shut, and tenses all his muscles because his heart is just bursting with love for his beautiful Italian. It is so nice to hear him happy after the events only a month ago in London.

When he lifts his head again, he’s even more awake and his senses are truly kicking in. Not only can hear his Nicolo singing... but he can smell him cooking. Garlic and onion frying in olive oil. Perhaps some dried thyme? Toasted nuts?  Now this is something that Nicky does very well.

Joe doesn’t need to check a watch or clock to know that it is nearing dinner time. They have managed without readily available timepieces for years, and he can tell by the sun. Watches are purely for keeping precision time when they are on a mission (and making sure they catch planes and trains on time!). Otherwise, they literally have all the time in the world.

(Almost.)

Finally conceding that his stomach is feeling decidedly empty (after an earlier afternoon of languid love making, following a long lunch at a local cucina), Joe throws back the sheet and hauls himself out of bed. He makes his way down the narrow timber staircase, treading as quietly as possible. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, he creeps closer to the wide doorway leading from the living area into a kitchen with worn terracotta floor tiles. The French doors in the living area are thrown open to catch the evening breeze, and it raises small goosebumps on Joe’s naked flesh. He ignores it though, and creeps closer towards the kitchen.

Within, ‘Non Piangiere Liu’ reaches a crescendo and Nicky’s valiant effort to match Pavarotti almost brings Joe undone. His repressed snigger (of the fondest kind) catches Nicky’s attention as he is mid-song, wearing only a pair of baggy lounge pants, and holding a wooden spoon aloft. He spins on his heel and points it at Joe accusingly.

“Sneaking up on a trained assassin with a lethal kitchen implement! Not many have lived to make that mistake twice!” Nicky accuses in quick fire Italian.

“That may be so…” Joe steps forward and quickly disarms the singing Genovian chef before him, tossing the spoon onto the counter. “But I doubt any were as disarmingly handsome and sexy as I am.”

Nicky throws his head back as he laughs and pulls Joe towards him. “No one could argue with that appraisal.”

He runs his fingernails down Joe’s back, eliciting a hiss of pleasure from the other.

“Especially me,” Nicky growls and shoves his knee between Joe’s thighs and grinds his knee up under his increasingly swollen cock.

Joe throws his head back as the jersey fabric of Nicky’s pants leg creates a delicious friction.

Nicky nips the underside of Joe’s chin where his beard begins, and continues up to his left ear lobe.

“The sauce has to cook for another 10 minutes,” he whispers into Joe’s ear. “And I have plenty of left over olive oil…”

Laughing, Joe gets his own back for the earlier indiscretion with the knee by plunging his hands into the waistband of Nicky’s pants. He grabs his cock making Nicky gasp, and pumps him once. Hard.

“Well then, waste not want not,” Joe whispers back.

He lets go, backs up towards the kitchen island bench, and then turns to bend over the bench top. The coolness of the stone causing his stomach to contract slightly, but further heightening his senses. Adding further to his sensitivity, the first of Nicky’s oiled fingers hesitates slightly at his rim then slowly presses in.

Joe lets out another gasp. It’s usually the other way around, but he feels that as he was the one to walk naked into Nicky’s sacred culinary space it is only polite to offer himself up this way. Besides, he likes his darling Nicolo to take control and tease and thrill him.

After working Joe’s hole for a few minutes, Nicky stops briefly. It isn’t long, but is enough for Joe to grumble slightly in frustration at the pause in proceedings. I mean for goodness sake, they only have 10 minutes or the dinner might burn!

But… AHHHH! Suddenly his impatience is silenced by Nicky driving himself forward and in, bottoming out quickly.

Joe thrusts his ass backwards to grind against Nicky’s groin, and in return Nicky pushes forwards.

It’s a quick and dirty fuck, that absolutely blows Joe’s mind. Nicky slams into him, his balls slapping against Joe’s buttocks. The oil makes for an obscene noise, which spurs them on faster, and faster… He reaches in front of Joe, and pulls his dick in his hand.

And OH OH OH OHHHH!!

Nicky is shuddering against Joe, falling over his back and sobbing into his ear.

At the same time Joe spills all over Nicky’s fist, and the kitchen floor.

“Yusuf! Yusuf! Yusuf! Amore mio!”

Again, and again as he spasms and empties himself inside of Joe and slumps over his back.

Both are panting hard, as Joe reaches up behind him, and tangles his fingers in Joe’s hair. He can feel the perspiration has dampened it at the ends.

“Nicolò. My Nicolò.”

Suddenly the timer for the sauce goes off, and Nicky reluctantly pulls out.

He busies himself putting the pasta into the boiling pot of water on the stove for a few minutes.

Joe use some kitchen towel to clean up the floor, and then he gathers together plates and cutlery which he sets out on the small table and chairs near the French doors. He also pours 2 glasses of Marea Cinque Terra, matching Nicky’s gnocchi dish perfectly.

They sit to enjoy their meal, the view and each other’s company. Nicky in his slightly oil stained lounge pants, and Joe naked as the day he was born.

Joe suddenly reaches out and grasps Nicky’s left hand, and says earnestly, “Nicolò. Hayati.”

Nicky stops with his fork halfway to his mouth, and stares at him mouth partly open. Grey-blue eyes wide, as if expecting something deeply profound.

Joe takes a deep breath.

“I…. I really do like your singing.” A cheeky grin splits his face in two, as he kicks his chair back and tries to sprint to the stairs.

Nicky catches him near the couch, and they spend the next half hour wrestling.In the end neither is wearing pants.… 

And their pasta gets cold.

For the record:

- They’re in Cinque Terre - about 2 hours out of Genoa on the coast.

- Nicky makes gnocchi with walnut sauce. A really amazing Ligurian dish which is one of my favourite Italian recipes!

- I don’t speak Italian very well, so I only chucked in one phrase. Apologies if i got anything wrong!

[bluesfortheredj]

Hitsuzen.

Hitsuzen - A naturally foreordained event. A state in which other outcomes are impossible.

Chapter 8.

Monday morning always came around a little too quickly for your liking, but on the plus side you’d heard that Adam had called in sick so you could go about your day without having to suppress the urge to punch him in his smug face after his comments at the pub. You almost skip down the corridor at the school to your classroom and you can hear Sarah’s laugh behind you as she watches you full of enthusiasm for the day. The students question Adam’s disappearance but you quickly make the excuse that he has the flu and it’s as if he was never needed in the first place as you get on with your day leading the classroom once more. The smile barely fades from your face even at the last lesson of the day and you’re sat there beaming when the final student leaves the room; proud of what you’re achieving with Adam out of the picture.

“You coming?” Sarah asks as she pops her head around the door while you’re tidying up the classroom.

“Yeah, I’m just going to set some things out for tomorrow then I’ll be off. You go ahead and I’ll meet you at yours,” you grin.

“You’ve really taken to this like a duck to water haven’t you?”

“Well, I’m not one to brag but… yeah, I feel like this is what I was meant to do,” you agree.

“Looks like there’s more than just this that’s coming together in your life,” she winks.

Your phone begins to ring and you slip it out of your pocket to see Charlie’s name at the top of the screen, “speaking of which...” you chuckle.

Sarah gives you a wave before hurrying off to pick up the kids from the babysitter, then you answer your phone with a joyous hello.

“Ah! So your day went just as you imagined then?”

“It did indeed! Funny how everything runs so smoothly without Adam here.”

“Pretty difficult teaching a class from a cell,” he laughs.

“No! He’s there with you?!”

“Yep, came in last night, drunk again, and ended up falling into some poor woman’s front garden smashing a couple of plant pots as he went… she wasn’t best pleased so we took him in to sober up over night.”

“Shit,” you chuckle, “that’s bad. Not for me… but for him, definitely. How come he’s suddenly coming undone since this friend of his was found? What’s going on here? There’s something more to this, I just know it.”

“Alright Miss Marple, calm down,” Charlie teases, “leave it us, I don’t want you getting into any trouble because of this okay?”

“Okay,” you sigh, “how’s your day going anyway?”

You get up from the desk and begin to place worksheets on the students’ desks for morning, then head into the supplies cupboard where you kept donated lengths of fabric and other tools for the kids to use as you continue to chat to Charlie. You’re squatting down on the floor to find the spare glue gun sticks when suddenly the door slams shut and you hear the turn of the key locking you in the small space.

“What was that?” Charlie asks.

“Umm, I think I’ve just been locked in the cupboard...” you say quietly before calling out to the mysterious person, “hello? Who’s there? This isn’t funny, you need to let me out now.”

You wiggle the handle then bang on the door but the person hovering around outside doesn’t make a noise as they open up the vent just above the door frame.

“What’s happening?” Charlie questions, now panicked.

“I… Hey! What are you doing?! Let me out, now!” you demand as they poke a small piece of pipe through the vent, just out of your reach no matter how high you jump, “let me out! What are you doing?”

You throw your body against the door in an attempt to open it but it doesn’t budge, then as Charlie starts shouting down the phone at you, you begin to feel woozy from whatever was being fed into the air around you.

“(Y/N)! Talk to me!” he urges desperately.

“I think you need to get here,” you slur, “quickly.”

The phone drops from your hand onto the floor as you begin to slide down the door then your head hits the carpet and your eyes quickly close while your whole body becomes limp.

“We’re on our way! (Y/N), we’re coming!” Charlie reassures even though you can no longer hear him.

Him and John arrive within a matter of minutes, his long legs carrying him through the corridors to your classroom with ease, then he quickly unlocks the door to find you on the floor, your body completely still apart from a few shallow breaths. John rings for an ambulance as other officers arrive to inspect the scene then makes a quick phone call to Sarah to let her know you were being taken to hospital so wouldn’t be there to pick up Evie. Charlie attempts to bring you round and although there are some incoherent noises coming from you now that you’d been taken out of the enclosed space, you’re still not fully conscious.

“How long will the ambulance be?!” Charlie shouts exasperatedly at no one in particular.

“Nelson, it’s on its way” John says calmly as he kneels beside you and pushes your hair back from your face, “she’ll be fine.”

He was saying it to comfort himself as much as Charlie as well; you were like family to him and he was as concerned about you as he would be about his own daughter in all honesty, and Charlie could see it in his eyes, the worry and the pain at seeing you like this, knowing that someone out there had done this to you on purpose. The paramedics soon come hurtling into the room, ushering Charlie and John out of the way while they do a quick assessment of your vitals before getting you onto a stretcher and wheeling you out.

“You go, I’ll stay here,” John nods to Charlie before he bolts out of the room to catch up with you, “right, we need this place searched top to bottom; bins, drawers, everywhere! Does the pipe have fingerprints on? Where did the gas canisters come from? We need answers as soon as possible,” he instructs to the remaining officers.

Charlie remains by your bed side in the A&E department while they carry out tests to figure out what had got into your system, and your semi-conscious state is signified by quite a violent bout of vomiting with Charlie holding the bowl in one hand while his other one tries to scoop up as much of your hair as possible.

“Is she going to be okay?” he asks with a concerned frown at how much you’re being sick.

“This can be a normal side effect of inhaling so much isoflurane and nitrous oxide,” the nurse nods, noting Charlie’s utter confusion at the use of technical terms, “…otherwise known as anaesthetic gas.”

“Oh, right.”

“Luckily you got to her before she inhaled too much of it. She should be fine, but we’ll be keeping her in overnight as a precaution. I guess you’ll be informing her family?”

“I am family,” Charlie automatically says before clarifying, “I’m her boyfriend, I mean.”

“Then you’ll have to make sure to take good care of her when she gets home; she may be a little unsteady on her feet for a few days.”

“Of course,” he nods.

The nurse leaves with the now full sick bowl then Charlie’s phone begins to ring and he answers it to Sarah’s worried tone, “how is she?”

“She’s… uh, she’s okay. Not fully awake yet,” he says as he sinks down into the seat next to your bed, “she’s been sick a few times but can’t quite wake up.”

“Do they know what it is she breathed in?”

“Anaesthetic apparently, a mix of two gasses. She’ll be off work for the rest of the week.”

“Of course,” Sarah sighs, “at least it wasn’t anything more toxic. Uhm, can you speak to Evie? She’s getting a little anxious after we said mummy wasn’t well and I told her you were making sure she’s okay.”

“Yeah, absolutely, put her on.”

“Charlie?” Evie’s timid voice questions as Sarah puts the phone to her ear.

“Yes darling, are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m having dinner.”

“Oh, what are you having?”

“Pasta!” she says excitedly before turning serious, “where’s mummy?”

“Pasta sounds yummy, I’m sure mummy will want some when she feels a bit better. She’s at the hospital with me and some very nice doctors who are making her well again, she’s safe sweetheart, don’t worry,” Charlie reassures with a smile as he takes your hand.

“Is she coming here soon?”

“She will come there tomorrow Evie, I promise.”

“Will you come as well?”

“Of course! I won’t be leaving mummy’s side until she’s all better, okay? Tomorrow we will both come to Sarah’s and you can tell her all about the fun things you’ve been doing with Betty, yeah?”

“Okay. Can you give her a night kiss from me?”

“I sure will! And she sends one right back to you, and so do I.”

“Thankoo!”

With that Sarah takes the phone away and speaks one last time, “you look after our girl Charlie.”

“You know I will.”

He slides his phone back inside his pocket then pulls his chair closer to the bed so he can lean over and kiss your forehead.

“That’s from Evie,” he whispers, then kisses your lips softly, “and that’s from me. Evie’s at Sarah’s eating pasta and playing with Betty so there’s no need to worry about her. She knows you’re not well but she’s looking forward to seeing you tomorrow when I can get you out of here. Then I think we should all get some pizza in and watch a film of Evie’s choosing… what do you think?”

A small smile appears on your lips at the sound of Charlie’s voice and you nod in answer to his question even though you didn’t quite have enough energy to open your eyes and talk yet, but a quick squeeze to his hand is all he needs to know that you can understand what he’s saying.

You’re soon wheeled up to a ward where there’s a room waiting just for you, and Charlie flashes his badge as an excuse to stay the night with you even though he’s sitting in one of the most uncomfortable chairs he’s ever sat in before. It’s around 4am when you finally start to properly wake up and as your heart rate quickens with the sudden awareness that you’re in hospital, a nurse comes in to check you over and wakes Charlie in the process.

“Your boyfriend flashed his badge to get to stay here with you, y’know?” she smirks as she takes your blood pressure, “I’d say he was a keeper that one.”

“Yeah,” you chuckle, “he’s alright.”

“Must be strange for your daughter to not have mummy or daddy there tonight, but I bet she’s enjoying her sleepover,” she smiles.

“Oh, I’m not-” Charlie starts.

“Step dad,” you interrupt, “but yeah, she’s probably had a whale of a time without us and getting a load of treats!”

“Whenever my little boy returns from my mum’s house, he’s weighed down with sweets in his pockets!” the nurse laughs, “better check hers tomorrow, just in case.”

“Remember that Charlie, check her pockets,” you nod.

“I’ll pat her down, don’t you worry!”

The nurse leaves, shutting the door gently behind her, then you turn to Charlie with an inquisitive look on your face, “boyfriend?” you ask.

“Step dad?” he questions back.

You shrug, “quicker and easier than explaining the whole situation.”

“My thoughts exactly,” he winks.

He drags his chair nearer to you as he slips his hand over yours then explains the events that had happened in the lead up to the present moment, filling you on every detail down to what Evie was having for dinner, and even though you’re a little concerned about what happened to you, you know that you’re in safe hands with Charlie.

@lv7867 @lovemarvelousfics @fuckyou-imspiderman @aynsleywalker @timeandpixiedust @the-baby-bookworm @pink-lemo @chlobo6 @queenslandlover-93 @misslolasworld @killer-queen-87 @drivenbybri @itsametaphorgwil @what-wicked-delights

[teriwrites]

the big manuscript search tag

I’m compiling a bunch of different tags from @cecilsstorycorner and @akindofmagictoo so this might be a long one!

My words to find: lonely, cup, drown, routine, deep, feather, rich, contact, kick, sun, pair, whisper, king, chord, chip, prove, mix, spin, water, color, need, fade, everyday

...yeah, that’s really long, so I’m going to throw the results in a read more to spare all your feeds from a wall of text

There’s a few words that don’t appear in one project or another, so I’m going to use both Castle on the Hill and Beneath Alder Creek! Because of that, the order won’t be quite the same

Castle on the Hill:

Lonely:

For the first day of break, Hans spent the entire day lounging around his house. His mother said nothing about it, except to suggest moving to a new spot every few hours so that he wouldn’t cramp up. She was in and out of the house a lot, which Hans took as a good sign. The harder days were those in which his mother spent most of it upstairs, locked away in her room. Hans had been allowed to join her, if he wished, but he’d preferred not to see her in such a state. Still, it had led to many a lonely afternoon.

Cup:

The following morning, Peter made the short trek over to the familiar cafe for his second date with Ursula. Despite having left five minutes early, Peter arrived to find Ursula already waiting at a table, with a cup of coffee in hand. He beelined for the table and tossed his blazer onto the back of the chair across from her. “Sorry to keep you waiting.” “No worries, I enjoyed the walk,” Ursula said brightly.

Drown:

“You seemed pretty smitten with this tutor girl,” Peter mused. The sounds of a dramatic breakup on the television nearly drowned him out. He fished the remote from the coffee table and muted the television. Klaus looked between Peter and Georg, who were both sending him matching smug expressions. Georg dramatically batted his eyes at Klaus, who shoved him in the shoulder and nearly sent him toppling over the side of the couch. “Come off it,” he dismissed with a snort. “I barely know her. She’s a fox, sure, but I’m not going to lose my head over a girl I’ve met once. Klaus Müller is always on the make.” Georg leaned forwards to look at Peter. “He’s speaking in the third person again.”

Routine:

“Alrighty, now that that’s out of the way, who wants to tell me what year the European Economic Community was established?” Prof. Dietrich asked brightly, shifting back into his regular routine of starting a lecture with an oral quiz. Josef avoided the man’s eye contact, choosing instead to pretend to be desperately jotting down notes. “Herr Weber? How about you give it a shot?”

Feather:

The rest of the class shifted their attention back to the lecture, but Josef’s face flushed as he fished out his notebook from his bag. He could practically hear the stories that would be circulating later. Josef Weber, the snobby inheritor to his father’s auto company, got scolded in front of a whole class. Wouldn’t that just put a feather in quite a few caps?

Rich:

“Tell me why I didn’t decide to work as a janitor,” Klaus muttered. “You’d never succeed as a janitor; you never even had to clean your own messes growing up.” One of Klaus’ arms snapped forwards and a smack that was aiming for Georg’s shoulder instead slapped smartly against the wooden back of his chair. With a sharp intake of breath, Klaus straightened in his seat. As he rubbed at his knuckles, Klaus shot back, “That’s rich, coming from a lawyer’s son.”

Chord:

“It’s a little complicated right now,” Hans said calmly. “Look, I’ve talked it all over with my mother, and she agreed that it would be best for me to stay here. It’s not that long, Josef, don’t look at me like that.” The doubt etched into Josef’s features was enough to warrant the comment, and he shook his head to try clearing it. Nothing in Hans’ demeanor pointed towards it being a lie, but something in the idea struck a false chord in him.

Water:

Though he'd managed to subdue most of his panic, Peter felt it all rushing back. A sudden pain at his hand drew him out of his thoughts, and he realized that he'd been aggressively stirring the pasta, and some of the water had splashed out of the pot.

Fade(d):

As Hans spoke, Professor Abend’s face lit up with recognition, which quickly faded into a solemn mourning. The exam lay on the desk between the two, forgotten. “I knew I had a Faust in one of my classes, but I never thought to make a connection,” Professor Abend said in a low voice.

Beneath Alder Creek:

Deep:

A deep breath, and then Winnie followed through, dragging her other foot into the creek. The water rose halfway up her calf, and continued to rise as she made her way forwards. To her thigh, then her hip, and finally up to her waist. It was the second dress she’d soaked that day, Winnie thought with a wry smile, and, in her distraction, she failed to notice a large rock in the creek bed. It could hardly be considered a fall. Winnie pitched forwards, plunging her face into the creek for only a moment before she caught her balance and straightened up. But she’d opened her mouth as she tripped, and her rise was met with a violent coughing fit. Loose strands of hair clung to her face, making it impossible to see, and Winnie pushed forwards carefully by feeling along the bottom with her foot. The progression was slow, but Alder Creek was by no means wide, and it wasn’t long before Winnie found the water beginning to ebb away. As she pulled herself out of the creek, Winnie brushed the hair from her face and finally opened her eyes. Looking to where she’d seen the fairy ring, she froze.

Contact(ing):

Contacting the fae was no easy feat; they only made appearances of their own volition, not subscribing to any convenient timetable. While it was said that certain holidays brought the mortal world closer to their realm, years had passed before any signs revealed their presence. By then, the couple had been so eager that they’d wasted no time in seeking out a deal. They were the fourth and fifth victims within the fifteen years. Nobody had been so hasty since.

Kick(ing):

Back into the bog. Winnie no longer worried herself with her skirts, allowing them to drag through the stagnant water. It was a mistake, she soon discovered, as the drenched fabric weighed her down and made the progress even slower. With an exasperated groan, she stomped at the ground, kicking up a spray and lodging her boot into the mud.

Sun:

Time steadily passed as they traveled, though how quickly or slowly it went by, Winnie couldn’t say. She could feel the blisters beginning to form on her feet, the slight ache in her shoulders where she’d slung her bag, the warmth that spread across her back as the sun’s ceaseless rays washed over them. When she fell slightly behind Taliesin, he was shining so brightly that her eyes began to burn, and she had to quicken her pace to keep in step with him.

Pair:

The first thing Winnie noticed was the boat they were standing in. It was like a skiff, sitting low in the water and directed by a pair of oars. The figure rowing seemed to be wearing some type of headgear, a hazy and elongated shape still a little too far to make out. Taliesin moved back from the shore, forcing Winnie to do the same to provide space for the skiff to breach.

Whisper:

“Don’t stare,” Taliesin reminded her in a whisper. He raised a hand in greeting, and the figure dipped their head slightly, though how they could’ve seen it without eyes, Winnie couldn’t say. “Hail, Ferryman!”

Prove(n): 

Turning away from the Llion, the group soon found themselves returning once more to the thick fog of the wetlands. Winnie took the middle, knowing better than to have Taliesin and Enid side-by-side. In one hand, she took the long sleeve of Enid’s robes, and in the other, Taliesin’s cloak. He dragged his feet the whole time, still sulking, and it took all of Winnie’s self-restraint not to let go and leave him behind as punishment for his pettiness. Being proven wrong did not suit the golden man.

Mix(ed):

It was nearly a week later when Winnie found herself back at Alder Creek. The water level had dipped back to its usual shallows, which lazily drifted by. Winnie could see her face reflected as she stared down, features blurred in its [flowing surface]. The hem of her skirt had dipped into the water, which lapped at Winnie’s bare feet. Her shoes were somewhere behind her, abandoned, a sign of her troubled mind. For the most part, Winnie had abandoned the practice of walking about barefoot - how her mother would’ve shouted if she’d seen her. The thought of her mother brought a fresh wave of mixed humiliation and frustration as the events of the day replayed through her mind.

Spin:

A light flickered in the trees. When Winnie looked up, she stared at the sight. Taliesin was crouching on a branch, catlike, with his hands holding the branch between his feet. Somehow, he did not sway but remained perfectly still, patiently watching Winnie spin in circles to look for him, all with an amused half-smile.

Color(s):

The opening of the cavern shifted through several colors, like an ever-changing kaleidoscope of light through a prism.

Need:

She offered Enid no response, so after a stretch of silence, the statuesque woman continued. “This is out of some attachment to the Dusk fellow, then.” Winnie bristled at her tone. “Of course it’s not. I merely need him to ensure that my brother and I are able to depart the Fae safely.”

Not found:

King (Apparently my writing does not support monarchies lol)

Chip

Everyday

This was excessively long, so I’m going to leave it an open tag. The words for anyone who feels like it are king, chip, and everyday because I’m sure somebody out there has them, even if I don’t. 

[badchoicesposts]

Don’t Dream It’s Over Chapter 5

Series Summary: Liam and Ali thought that their relationship was perfect, but their whole world came crashing down when Constantine called him back to Cordonia. Four years later they meet again at Liam’s bachelor party, determined to make things between them work even if it isn’t always easy.

In this AU, Liam and MC (Ali Moonessar) dated for a year in New York while Leo was still crown prince. They broke up when Constantine asked Liam to come back to Cordonia, but they meet again at Liam’s bachelor party before the social season. The story will contain flashbacks, which will be italicized, of their relationship and follow them as they try to navigate the season with Ali as a suitor. I’ve messed around with the timeline a bit so that it fits the story better. I’ve also added in a few OCs of my own.

Pairing: Liam x MC (Ali Moonessar)

Word Count: 3,316

Taglist: @flowerpowell, @kingliam2019, @ao719, @emceesynonymroll, @hopefulmoonobject, @dcbbw, @qammh-blog, @liamxs-world, @drakesensworld, @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction, @timmagickfrog

If you would like to be added to the tag list let me know!

A/N: In this chapter you’ll get to learn a bit more about Ali’s family.

This is my first time ever posting a fic. Please let me know if you enjoyed it and would like to read more. I thrive on validation, lol. Thanks for reading!

TRIGGER WARNING: Nothing too serious but a few mentions of anxiety

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 

Ali pulled another dress over her head and sighed as she watched it drop onto the increasingly large clothing pile on the floor. She had been trying to figure out what to wear for the past two hours, but everything in her closet seemed to look wrong. All of her insecurities seemed to be clawing their way out today, and everything seemed to make her look frumpy or cling to her stomach too much. 

“Did a tornado rip through your closet?” Emma asked, strolling into the room.

She bent over and started rifling through the pile of clothes on the floor. 

“What’s wrong with this one?” she asked, holding up a short blue dress.

“It makes me look fat,” Ali said, rifling through some hangers.

Emma rolled her eyes and dropped the dress back into the pile. She was used to her best friend berating her body because she had been doing it for years, but that didn’t mean that she was okay with it.

“No, it doesn’t. Besides, you know that your wardrobe isn’t the only thing bothering you. What’s wrong?” she argued, dropping down onto the bed. 

Ali groaned angrily and sat down next to her. The other woman was right. The anxieties she had about the evening and her impending choice to follow Liam back to Cordonia were making her harsher on herself than usual. But, that didn’t mean she was in the mood to talk about her feelings. However, she knew that Emma wouldn’t leave her alone until she did. 

“I haven’t been this nervous about a date since the first time I went out with Liam,” she said, resting her head on the blonde girl’s shoulder.

“Good nervous or bad nervous?”

“I’d have to give up everything to be with him, but at the same time I can’t imagine letting him go again,” she said.

“Just because it’s a change doesn’t mean you have to give everything up. Just because you won’t be living with us anymore, doesn’t mean we won’t still be a family. The only thing you’re really giving up is your shitty waitress job,” Emma reasoned.

Ali thought about what she said for a moment. It made sense, but Emma seemed to oversimplify it. Deciding to move to a whole different country was a big decision, especially if the only reason she was doing it was for a guy.

 “And on a more shallow note, I want him to think I look nice,” she said in a small, embarrassed voice. 

Emma smirked and rested her chin on top of her friend’s head. 

“Good nervous, then. You know, I’m sure you could wear a potato sack, and the man would still think you’re the most beautiful woman in the world,” she said, a fond smile on her face.

Emma had always liked Liam. She had been upset for her friend when he left, but she had liked him. He was good for Ali. Ali had a tendency to get in her head and let her anxieties and insecurities get the best of her, but Liam had always had a way of pulling her out of it. He always seemed to know what to say when she was having a bad day, whether that be because of her mental health or because of a stressful week of classes. He had been so obviously head over heels in love with her, and he knew how to bring out the best side of her. They both had a way of doing that for each other.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not true,” Ali said, rolling her eyes and walking back to the closet.  

“He still looks at you the same way, you know,” she persisted.

“What way?”

“Like you’re the light of his life. His reason for waking up in the morning,” she said, swooning dramatically, before bursting into a fit of giggles.

Ali threw a romper at her and watched as she dodged it just before it hit her in the face. 

“Shut up!” 

Emma laughed and walked back over to the pile on the floor, sifting through it and pulling out a simple black dress. 

“Wear this. It’s simple enough for what he has planned, but it shows just enough cleavage to keep things interesting,” she said, suggestively raising one of her eyebrows.

“You know what he has planned?” 

Emma nodded and walked out the door without saying another word. 

Ali dressed quietly before observing her reflection critically in the mirror. She sighed, pulling at the hem of the dress nervously.

“Ali!” she heard Cole’s voice call out for her. 

She looked down at her phone and felt the corners of her mouth tug up into a small smile. It was 6:59 PM. Liam always was punctual. She took a deep breath, pulled on her shoes, and made her way out to the living room. 

Liam was standing in the middle of the living room with a few grocery bags in his hand, and Cole and Ezra were standing next to him, trying unsuccessfully to make themselves look intimidating. 

“Okay, boys, come along,” Emma said, placing her hands on both of their shoulders. “Have fun.”

She threw Ali a smile over her shoulder and led the guys out of the apartment. Ali waved goodbye awkwardly and looked over at Liam questioningly. 

“I wanted to make you dinner. I convinced them to leave the apartment for the night,” he said raising the bags in his hands.

“How did you manage that?” she asked, taking one of the bags from him and walking over to the kitchen. 

“Well, I didn’t do it so much as I asked Emma to,” he confessed, pulling a smile from Ali.

She began emptying the grocery bag and had to refrain herself from laughing as she looked over canned tomatoes, package of uncooked spaghetti, and various herbs.  

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” she asked, smiling widely and turning to look at him.

“I know it didn’t exactly go well the first time, but I promise I’m better at it now,” he said, walking up to her and placing his hands on her waist. “You look beautiful, by the way.”

Even in her heels he needed to lean down a considerable amount to press the small kiss to her forehead. He was about to pull away, when she made a split second decision and grabbed onto his cheeks with both of her hands. She pushed herself up onto her toes the best she could in her heels and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips.

“Thank you, and I’m helping this time. I still don’t know how you managed to ruin boxed spaghetti like that,” she said, pulling away and moving over to the cabinet where she and the Larsons kept their pots and pans. 

~~~

Ali took a deep breath before knocking on the door to Liam’s apartment. This was their first real date. Well, technically it was their second. The “first” had been when he decided to tag along with her and the kids she was babysitting as they went to a small cafe after a library visit. 

To say she was nervous was an understatement. She was excited too, of course. She had been practically bouncing in place when he called and asked to see her again, but she was definitely nervous. 

“Hey, you look beautiful,” Liam said, opening the door to let her in. 

He pulled her into a hug and placed a gentle kiss to her forehead before shutting the door behind her. Ali couldn’t help but notice that his face was flushed and his hair was mussed slightly. 

She took in the large apartment. It was filled with modern furniture, and the tall windows in the living room gave a beautiful view of the lights from the buildings around them. She followed Liam into the spacious kitchen where a few pots and pans were set up on the stove, one of them emitting copious amounts of smoke.

“Your apartment is gorgeous,” she said, looking out at the counter where she could see all of the ingredients necessary for pasta and homemade tomato sauce spread out. 

There as a smaller dining room table set up a little way off from the kitchen with two place settings and a few candles.

“Do you cook very often?” she asked, as she watched him open a bottle of wine and pour two glasses for them. 

“Not… exactly,” he said, smiling sheepishly. 

“Oh?” she asked hesitantly. 

She wasn’t trying to offend him, but when he had offered to make her dinner she assumed that he had some kind of cooking experience. It didn’t help that he was looking slightly frantic. 

“I’m not very much of a chef, but this is a recipe that my mother used to make when I was a child. She wasn’t the best cook either, but this was the one thing she always made well,” he said with a fond smile. “I thought I would give it a try myself.” 

“Do you need any help?” she asked.

“No, just relax,” he said, handing one of the glasses and motioning for her to sit down at one of the stools by the kitchen counter. “I think it’s almost done.”

Ali did as he instructed and took a sip of the dark liquid. She had never been much of a wine person. Being a broke college student meant that she typically went with whatever alcohol she could afford. However, Ali took one more quick glance around the apartment and concluded that Liam probably didn’t have the same problem. She typically tried not to judge financial status based on where a person lived considering she herself lived in a penthouse even though she was drowning in student debt and barely made any money babysitting. But, it was obvious from the way Liam dressed and carried himself that he had expensive tastes and was able to afford his lifestyle. It wasn’t that he was pompous or arrogant, but he did seem to carry himself with an air of confidence. Or, at least he usually seemed to. 

“Are you sure you don’t want a hand?” she asked again, as he cursed under his breath. 

He was lifting the lid of the smoking pot with one oven-mitt covered hand and holding a piece of parmesan cheese awkwardly with the other as if he didn’t know what to do with it. 

“Um, no. Everything’s okay,” he said, turning to her a strained smile on his face. 

Ali held back a laugh as a timer went off on his phone, and his eyes widened dramatically.

“What was that for?” he mumbled to himself frantically. 

She pushed herself off of the stool and took the cheese from his hand, placing it on the counter. A faint burning smell was filling the air, and he seemed to panic even more. 

“Liam, just breathe for a second. Turn off the alarm,” she instructed. 

He nodded and silenced the noise before turning back to her for further instructions. She kicked off her heels and slipped the oven mitt off of his hand before placing it on her own. 

Upon opening the first pot she was met with the sight of clearly overcooked spaghetti. It seemed that Liam hadn’t boiled enough water in the first place and had then left the pasta on the heat for too long. The noodles were floating in about an inch of water, and most of them seemed to be stuck together. 

Ali turned off the heat and transferred the pot onto one of the cool burners before moving to the next one, which seemed to be the source of the burning smell. This pot had been the one he was attempting to make the sauce in. When she stirred the contents, she realized that they began to stick to the bottom of the container. She turned the burner off and moved the pan off of the heat before turning to look at him with a mixture of a cringe and a smile on her face. 

“So, the pasta may be a little over cooked, and the sauce may have some… charred bits, but I’m sure it’ll still taste fine,” she said in a voice that didn’t sound at all convincing. 

Liam sighed, a disappointed look in his eyes.

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s still pretty early. I know a great pizza place about fifteen minutes away. They deliver,” she said, taking out her phone and already dialing the number. 

~~~

“It wasn’t that bad,” Liam laughed as he prepared to snap the bundle of spaghetti in half. 

“Liam, that spaghetti was both overcooked and undercooked at the same time. Wait! Don’t do that!” she laughed, putting down the piece of garlic that she was mincing. 

“I was trying to fit it in the pot.”

“Isn’t it like completely against all cooking rules?” she said, rummaging through the cabinet to get a bigger pot. 

“Is that really a thing?” 

“I think so,” she responded, filling the pot with water and letting it boil as she returned to the garlic. 

Liam came up behind her and pressed his chest against her back, his arms wrapping around her waist as he watched her work in silence. She finished up what she was doing and made sure that the tomato sauce was cooking on the stove before turning to look at him, catching sight of the parmesan on the counter from the corner of her eye. 

“Hey, if I lean my head back will you grate cheese into my mouth?” she asked with a wide smile. 

Liam threw his head back and laughed.

“Wait, you’re serious?” he questioned, his eyebrows raised at her ridiculous request. 

“Completely.”

He rolled his eyes playfully and took the cheese in one hand and the grater in the other. He positioned it perfectly so that the small shreds of cheese fell directly into her mouth as he began to grate it. She chewed on the cheese happily as she brought her head back up and placed the items back on the counter.

“Did you enjoy that?” Liam asked, looking her over with an amused expression.

“Oh, definitely,” she said, walking over to where he had taken a seat at the kitchen table. 

He carefully brushed the remnants of cheese off of the front of her dress, and she looked down at him fondly. He smiled back up at her, his arms curling around her hips and pulling her so that she was standing between his open legs. 

“I’ve missed you so much,” he said. “I don’t think I know anyone else who would have done that.”

“You mean no one in Cordonia likes to have fun?” she joked, watching as he threw his head back and laughed. 

“Not quite like that,” he responded, pulling her into a soft kiss. 

She kissed him back lovingly, running her fingers slowly through his hair.

“I missed you too,” she whispered against his lips. 

The pair stayed wrapped in each other’s embrace, their lips moving together slowly as their food cooked on the stove. They were pulled out of their bubble by the timer going off on Ali’s phone. They moved away from each other and finished making dinner in a comfortable silence. 

The recipe was simple enough, and spaghetti with tomato sauce wasn’t a crazy concept, so Ali was surprised to realize just how flavorful the food actually was when she took the first bite. 

“Okay, we have to do the Lady and the Tramp thing before we finish,” she said as their meal progressed. 

She put one strand of spaghetti in her mouth and watched with enjoyment as Liam struggled to put the other end in his without breaking it They both began to move toward each other, the strand of pasta getting smaller as it disappeared into their respective mouths. Their lips met in a playful kiss in the middle, and Ali pulled back with a satisfied smile. As they looked into each other’s eyes, she fought back the urge to tell him that she loved him, opting instead to make small talk.

“So catch me up on everything,” she said, turning back to her food and allowing them to fall into an easy conversation. 

After dinner they retired to the couch, bellies full and both completely relaxed. 

“Dinner was amazing. I still can’t believe you fucked the recipe up that much the first time,” Ali laughed as she lay back.

Her feet were propped up in Liam’s lap, and he was gently massaging them as she lay across the couch, her head resting on the arm of it. She was glad that they had been able to do his mother’s recipe justice. Everything turned out perfect this time.

“Well, in my defense, I’d never tried cooking before that point,” he said.

“You literally couldn’t boil water,” she argued. 

Liam rolled his eyes good-naturedly and smiled at her. 

“Just out of curiosity, how expensive was that bottle of wine? The one we drank that night.”

“I’m not sure. Maybe three or four hundred dollars,” he answered, causing her to laugh.

“So we drank $400 wine with pizza that cost about $15. Wow, that’s like a perfect representation of our relationship,” she joked.

“How do you mean?” he asked, moving his hand up to massage her calf. 

Ali sighed contentedly at his actions, enjoying the feeling of his hands on her body.

“Expensive and put together,” she said, pointing at him. “And not,” she gestured back to herself. 

Liam looked at her curiously for a moment, but didn’t respond, and the two of them settled into a comfortable silence. It was easy for them to be together like this. It was comfortable, and it felt natural. It felt right. But, they weren’t allowed to have this. They weren’t allowed to have a simple life together like this. 

“What are you thinking about?” Liam said quietly, pulling Ali out of her thoughts. 

Ali looked into his eyes and pulled herself up into a sitting position. She began fiddling with the top button of his shirt nervously. 

“I’m happy, but I wish I wasn’t.” “Why?” he asked, his touch gentle against the skin of her thigh. 

“Because this isn’t fair. None of this is. I should have to uproot my entire life to be happy with you,” she said, looking up and realizing how close her face was to his. 

“I know. I hate that you have to,” he whispered. “I wish I could give you the life together I promised you back then. I wish I could give everything you deserve.”

Ali’s heart was hammering in her chest as she felt his breath on her face. He was saying all of the right things. It was somehow everything she wanted to hear, but also the worst thing she could imagine. She wanted to say no to going back with him. She wanted to believe that all of her feelings for him were gone, so she would be able to go on living her regular life and pretend like this never happened once he was gone again. 

But, she knew there was no hope of that as she found herself reaching up to pull him into a kiss. She threw one leg over his lap, straddling him as her kisses became more frantic. Liam’s hand gripped the back of her thighs roughly as his lips moved against hers. She tugged on his hair, and he broke away from her mouth before beginning to press kisses down her jaw and neck. After a moment he pulled away from her skin, trying his best to restrain himself. 

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” he asked, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. 

She pulled him back into another kiss. This one slower and more passionate.

“Not at all.”   

[welcometophu]

Into the Split: Arrival 5

Twinned Book 3: Into the Split

Arrival 5

[ Previous | First | Next ]

Nikolai wakes into darkness when someone moves. He blinks, hears a low mutter and an answering soft grunt, then softly whispered words. He focuses, his eyes getting used to the low light, and realizes that Mattie and Alaric are speaking quietly before Alaric turns away. He makes his way to the door, stepping over where Carolyn is curled in a tight ball on the floor, and then where Heather and Nikita are wrapped around each other. As he passes the bed, Alaric pauses, tense, and glances at Nikolai.

“Sorry,” Alaric grunts.

“It’s hard to sleep well in the dark with this many Talents,” Nikolai whispers. He gently lifts Seth’s arm, moves it enough to be able to slide off the narrow bed. The floor is cold under his feet, and he finds his shoes with his toes, shoving his feet into them. “I’ll walk out with you.”

Pawel and Mac are closest to the door, sleeping sitting up with Mac curled against Pawel’s chest, Pawel’s arm around her shoulders. Mac stirs as they pass, opening one eye and reaching for her side before she spots them. The tension slips from her body as she curls closer to Pawel and falls asleep again.

Alaric eases the door open and they exit. Nikolai points to the particular spot in the trees designated as far enough from the cabin to be safe for refuse but still within the safety of the wards, and they both take care of business.

The sun is just starting to peek through the trees, the air still chill around them. Alaric inhales, exhaling with a puff of condensation.

“It’s going to warm up again today,” he says, voice still low.

“That’s a good thing, since we’ll be walking for a long while,” Nikolai says. He remembers where the next safe place is, but he also remembers that it wasn’t the biggest of spaces. And that it had already been picked over for food. He doubts that whoever maintains the space is going to remember to leave food at this time of year and they weren’t there all that long ago. It won’t be restocked.

It rankles, relying on the kindness of those few humans who don’t hate Talents, but it’s not like he can go into the nearest grocery store, either. Those exist in cities, behind high walls, and the old stores in the suburbs were abandoned and picked over long ago.

“Where are we going?” Alaric asks, his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched. He inhales again and slowly straightens, lifting his face to the sky. “I can fly ahead, if you need me to.” He glances at Nikolai. “Your boyfriend seems to think that if I just shift through my usual forms, it won’t be enough to call the Shadows. Dragon’s still new to me anyway. Eagle’s easy.”

Nikolai can’t remember the last time he met anyone who was Clan, and he’s not sure of the right vocabulary. He hopes Alaric doesn’t take offense at the way he asks. “What kind of Clan are you?”

Alaric snorts. “My family tends towards mammals. I’m—unique. I only have a few forms, and they’re not all one sort. Eagle. Hound. Bear. Lizard.” He shrugs. “Dragon.”

Nikolai wonders if that sort of uniqueness will be enough to change the way the Shadows sense him, but decides to let it be. “We’ll be traveling along a small river that tends to keep running during the winter; it’s too quick to ice over, and not quite shallow enough to dry out. So it should be good fishing for the bear.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Used to swim in the river when I was a kid.” Alaric stretches, twists in place as he tilts his head, sniffs at the air. “Where are we, anyway?”

The question stuns Nikolai into silence for a long moment, before he has to give a dry laugh at the realization. “I can’t believe you’re the first person to ask that,” Nikolai says. “I think I just figured we were all in the same place. Nikita says she thinks our worlds are twinned or something, so I just—you know what, I should assume that you don’t know anything about this world’s geography, too. So. From my perspective, we’re east of the Hudson river, traveling north and east, heading up near what used to be the Vermont border. There’s rumor of a safe place there, the kind of safe place where a large group of Talent are living together.”

Alaric’s gaze narrows abruptly, his hands falling as he leans in close enough to Nikolai that Nikolai takes a step back.

“What?” Nikolai asks.

“Nik?” Seth calls, voice faint from inside the cabin.

“Coming,” Nikolai calls back. He lowers his voice, gestures at the cabin. “We should go in.”

“Wait.” Alaric wraps one hand around Nikolai’s wrist, the grip solid and strong, holding him in place. “Where are we going?”

These people are Talents, just like Nikolai and Seth. And they need to be safe, too. “It’s a place called Havenhill,” Nikolai says, “and it might not even exist.”

“Havenhill,” Alaric murmurs, a grin lighting his expression. “Well, if it’s near the Vermont border, I grew up around there in my world, and from what you said, the geography sounds similar. Might be able to help us navigate. How far away are we?”

“Still south of the Albany city walls, and we’re going to have to skirt around that—they keep expanding and taking in old, abandoned towns,” Nikolai says. He tugs, and Alaric lets him go, leaving Nikolai free to head into the cabin. “We need to eat and get on the road. Traveling with this many people is going to slow us down, and it took us days to get as far as we were when you found us. We’re at least a week out of Havenhill, maybe more, and finding safe places on the way that are large enough for all of us to sleep will be tricky.”

For a moment Nikolai thinks that Alaric’s going to go hunting, or just stay outside, but after a heartbeat, Alaric is close behind, following Nikolai into the cabin.

Everyone is awake. Mac and Pawel still sit on the floor, backs against the wall. Heather is in a chair, while Carolyn and Nikita both work her hair into two thick braids. Mattie leans against the wall in the one corner not lit by the rising sun, shadows wreathing her features in darkness.

In that kind of light, she looks like a Shadowwalker just pretending to be like them. It’s a little chilling, and Nikolai isn’t comfortable with the way she watches them.

Seth digs through the cabinets, dropping food onto the small oak table as he finds it. “Someone restocked this one,” he says idly, tossing what looks like freeze-dried packets and a box of granola bars. “I’m pretty sure this came out of some survivalist’s pre-Split basement, but I’ll take it.”

Mac scrambles to her feet and appears next to Seth. She reaches to touch his shoulder, stabilizing him when he startles. “Sorry, they’re all used to me and I forgot you’re not.”

“The worst part was we got used to her doing it when we didn’t know she could do it,” Alaric mutters. “She’d blink everywhere and we just thought she was fast. Or had moved when we weren’t looking.”

“The human mind is capable of creating excuses for almost any situation,” Pawel says, his voice hoarse and rough. “That’s how the Talented survived living side by side with those without Talent for so long, in both our worlds. It is only when we can no longer be ignored that we are noticed, and believed.” He pushes to his feet quickly. “I’ll be back.”

The door bangs behind him as he exits.

“On it,” Alaric mutters, and heads out again as well.

“He’s worried about Conor,” Mac says, and all the strangers seem to go quiet at that thought. Heather nods, makes a small worried noise. Nikita just keeps braiding, while Carolyn stops and watches the door worriedly.

“We need to get moving,” Seth says. He works toward dividing the pile of food on the table.

It’s more than Nikolai was expecting, including at least a dozen freeze-dried meals in faded brown packaging, and two boxes of more recent granola bars. There’s a jar of some kind of sugary drink mix that’s hard when Nikolai opens it, but he’s sure they can make it work somehow. They’re going to have to share canteens as it is.

Seth starts opening cans. “These are too heavy to carry, so we eat them cold here. You’ve got a choice of taking your favorite, or letting me mix it all up into cold soup. I don’t have a preference.”

There are five cans and nine people.

“Just mix it up,” Nikolai says quickly. “We’ll deal with it. It’s going to be hard to eat as it is. Not like we’re set up for fine dining.”

He has a vague memory of sitting at the kitchen table when he was young, his feet kicking, unable to reach the ground. He remembers someone telling him why there were three forks and two spoons, and why he had multiple glasses to drink out of. He thinks it might have been a holiday, but he’s not sure, and he can’t remember who was speaking.

He remembers good food, though, and feeling as though he was loved.

Life before the Split was very different.

“We’ll just have to share.”

Nikolai unearths four spoons while Seth stirs together some kind of tinned pasta, beans, tomatoes, and a broth into a large pot. There’s no fire, and there’s only one bowl, so it’s going to be difficult.

Mattie motions for the others to eat first. “I’m fine. I’ll take care of myself later.”

“We don’t want you getting hungry,” Mac says.

“I’m not going to eat you,” Mattie counters. “I’ll find something. That food isn’t appealing, and there’s no point in me taking something you need more than me.”

The door slams open with another bang.

“Where are we going?” Pawel asks the question before he’s even fully back inside the cabin, Alaric trailing behind him.

Seth glances at Nikolai, who digs for his map. Seth makes space on the table for Nikolai to lay it out, and Nikolai points at the red circle. “There,” he says. “That’s where we think Havenhill is, according to rumor.”

“I told you,” Alaric says, as Pawel leans in close to the map. Everyone crowds around until Nikolai nudges them back.

“I think you’re right. We moved in space, yes, but not as far as I’d worried,” Pawel says. “That’s definitely the right area for Haverhill.”

“Havenhill,” Nikolai corrects him. “It was supposedly established by Alia Davis as a safe haven for all kinds of Talent. The thing is, no one can find it if they’re not Talented. It’s supposed to be safe from humans and Shadows.”

“It could also be a rumor, but it’s the best idea we have to follow right now,” Seth grumbles. “We need someplace to live. We can’t keep running. And we’ve tried finding a place to settle down, creating our own community, and it wasn’t safe. If they’ve figured out how to hide, I want us to be there.”

“Bedrock,” Mattie murmurs.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s another haven further north in Vermont, although that space was very close to Burlington,” Pawel muses, drawing a finger along the map. “On the other hand, Burlington is too far north to get there by walking, and why aren’t we driving?” He seems to shift gears mid-sentence, straightening to look at Nikolai and Seth.

“Because the highways are gated and controlled, we don’t have access to any kind of a vehicle, and it’s impossible to get fuel,” Seth says. “Everything’s controlled by the humans. If it was left behind when they went behind their walls, it either belongs to a survivalist now, or it’s been sitting, dead and abandoned, for years.”

“I know which way to go,” Alaric says. He points to the map. “I grew up in that area you circled, and I’ve never walked this way—it’s going to take a fucking long time to get there—but I’ve flown enough that I can scout for us. Maybe find us shortcuts if you think they’re safe.”

“We’ve been traveling based on known safe houses,” Nikolai explains. “Most of them are still there and maintained.”

“Fine, then we need to get on the road.” Alaric carefully folds up the map, hands it back to Nikolai. “Let’s scrounge around for something to get everyone outfitted.”

“Wait. What if there’s an easier way?” Mac asks. She gestures at herself. “I’ve been to Haverhill, remember? It might be days for walking, but I’ve done some long distance teleportation when I’ve had to. It doesn’t look like we’re really all that far, just that we have to go a roundabout way to get there safely by foot.”

Carolyn quietly digs through her bag, brings out her wallet and the little stack of papers that she had before. “You have a point. I’ve been there, too, which means that one of us should be able to do it.” She stares down at the top paper, a fierce expression keeping her jaw set and tight.

Mac takes a step and stops, her brow furrowed. “That didn’t work.” Another step, and she blinks out of existence, only to blink back on the other side of the room moments later. “I went back to the place we were yesterday when we ran into Nikolai and Seth, and I can go outside. I can teleport to anywhere I can see. But I can’t get to PHU or to your home, Alaric.”

“None of my pictures work,” Carolyn says, shuffling them away. “Not places. Not people.”

“Could you please stop trying to summon the Shadows!” Seth snaps. He pushes forward, getting in Mac’s face, a finger jabbed at her nose. “Don’t teleport. Don’t use your Talent. Any time you do something that might be seen as appealing to their hungers, you risk bringing them to us, and right now I don’t want to have to fight them off again. Did you see how many of them came when you guys crash landed here? That was bad. So just don’t do it.”

Mac holds her hands up. “I get it. I just thought if I could get there, we could get someplace safe before they had the chance to catch up with us.”

“And maybe bring the Shadows to Havenhill,” Seth points out. “Maybe make the one place that’s safe not safe after all.”

“This isn’t our world,” Nikita says softly. “And we have to remember that. These aren’t our rules, this isn’t a place where we’re safe. It’s probably different enough that you can’t go places you remember because they aren’t actually the same places, Mac. And Carolyn, of course Kit’s drawing of that place won’t work—he drew the one in Alaric’s home, not the one here. And I don’t know if we can even open up the same gateway we used to get here without Del, so you can’t just jump to someplace that is home, and not here. We need to play by these rules.”

“Eat,” Seth orders. “Eat and do whatever you need to do to feel awake and ready to go, then we’re on the road.”

“Alaric can scout,” Nikolai agrees. “We’ll stick together otherwise. No teleporting around or whatever you do. We want to avoid attention.” It’s a plan, at least, and the best they’ve got. It’s going to take time—probably more than when he and Seth traveled on their own—but at least they’ll get there alive.

[ Previous | First | Next ]

[niffizzle]

Lost in the Forest

A Fairy Tale AU featuring Over It!Hermione and Hungry!Ron as prompted by @ladykenz347‘s drabble challenge

-----------

“Hermione,” Ron grumbled for at least the tenth time in fifteen minutes.  “I’m hungry.”

If Hermione had to hear him complain one more time, she was going to leave him stranded in this forest to fend for himself.  It wasn’t her fault they had lost track of the rest of their hunting party.  He was the one who had wandered off in pursuit of a deer, prompting her to follow him to make sure he didn’t get lost.  A lot of good that had done her!  

And it wasn’t as if she wasn’t hungry as well!  Her stomach had been grumbling for the past several hours, but you didn’t hear her constantly griping.

“Clearly we aren’t going to be finding a way out of here tonight,” Hermione said, accepting defeat.  They had spent half the day trying to navigate through the thick of trees, but with the dense canopy overhead, it was impossible to use the sun to guide their way home.  And now, the sun was setting.  “We need to find somewhere to sleep tonight,” she concluded, looking around to assess their options.  “There’s no telling who or what are in the woods.”

They continued on for several more miles as nightfall began to obscure their vision.  Despite her best attempts, Hermione had yet to find anything that would suit their needs.  The forest seemed to be a never-ending maze of massive trunks and surrounding shrubbery.

Hermione was beginning to give up hope when off in the distance, they spotted billowing smoke.

Hermione and Ron both lit up and immediately headed in that direction.  Within minutes, they stumbled upon a clearing with a small cottage located no more than a few hundred paces away.  

The home was quaint, appearing to be no more than a single room with a straw roof, but the closer they got, Hermione realized her initial assessment was wrong.  The roof was not straw -- it was dried pasta.

Hermione examined the house, not convinced it wasn’t her imagination.  But it was true -- the whole home was made out of food.  The surrounding walls were made of various types of meat, layered on top of each other with a thick gravy paste, and instead of a wooden door, it was made of rye.  And somehow, none of the food appeared to be spoiling or rotting.

Cautiously, Hermione took a step away from the home.  “I have a bad feeling about this place,” she said to Ron, but it was clear he wasn’t listening.  His prayers had been answered.

Not minding that this wasn’t their home, Ron treated it as if it was his own, personal buffet.  He plucked a wheel of cheese that served as a doorknob and took a bite out of it.  Satisfaction filled his expression as his hunger was slowly satiated.

“Just take the cheese, and let’s go,” Hermione urged.  “We’ll find somewhere else to stay tonight.”

Ron didn’t budge.  “But there’s so much food,” he mumbled through a stuffed mouth of bread he had taken from a window treatment.  “Why can’t we just ask to stay?”  

At that moment, the front door slowly creaked open, revealing a tall, skeletally thin man with chalk white skin.  Ron paused mid-bite at the sight of the home’s owner, the wheel of cheese and loaf of bread still clenched tight against his chest.

“Why, do come in,” said the man in a cold, high pitched voice.  “It’s been so long since I’ve had company.”

Ron’s momentary concern immediately faded.  “See, Hermione?” he said after taking a swallow.  “The man’s welcoming us!”  He turned to the man.  “Could we stay here til morning?”

The man nodded.  “Be my guest.  I’ll even make a warm pot of stew.”

At the promise of more food, Ron didn’t even hesitate to follow the stranger inside.  Hermione called for him to come back, but it was no use.  The promise of more food had already convinced him.

Hermione highly considered abandoning Ron right then and there.  After all, following him somewhere had already gotten her into enough problems today!  But then again, Ron was her friend.  And if something went wrong, which she had a high suspicion something would, she didn’t have much faith in his ability to make it out of there alive.

Not thrilled with her decision but standing by it, Hermione followed Ron into the home.

“Ahh,” said the man as soon as she entered.  “I’m so glad you decided to join us as well.  You may call me Tom.”

Hermione nodded her acknowledgement, not bothering to give him her name in return.

At the table, Ron was already chomping away on a generous assortment of foods.  Fried chicken, spiral ham, corn on the cob, freshly baked rolls.  The pile of food on his plate was enough to serve three.

Which then begged the question -- if Tom had so much food, then why was he so skeletally thin?

Hermione took a wary step towards the man who was presently chopping something on the counter.  Approaching him silently, she looked over his shoulder and examined what he was cutting.  But instead of finding something like carrots or onions or anything else that was supposed to go into a stew, she spotted a strange, membranous slug-type log.

Before Tom caught her looking, Hermione stepped away, her concern now all the more heightened.  She and Ron needed to leave.  Now.

“Thank you for your hospitality,” Hermione said as casually as she could, “but Ron and I ought to get going.  I actually just remembered our way home.”

Ron glanced up at her from his half eaten chicken leg.  “Really?” he asked, small specks of fried dough dripping off her lips.  “But I’ve never been to these parts of the woods before.”

“Yes, well, I recognized a tree on our way into the clearing,” she lied, hoping Ron wouldn’t ask any more questions.

“It’s already nightfall,” Tom said.  “Stay the night.  You don’t want to travel after dusk.”  A grin stretched across his lips, revealing a set of all sharp teeth.  “You don’t know what’s out there.”

Hermione’s heart faltered at Tom’s alarming smile.  There was no more time for patience.  She and Ron were leaving.

She grabbed Ron’s hand.  “It’s time to go, Ron,” she said, but he swatted her away.  

“I’m eating,” he snapped.

He glared at her, giving Hermione the chance to look in his eyes.  Instead of their typical shade of blue, his pupils had turned onyx black.  

She kept her watch on Ron, her voice now shaking.  “What did you do to him?” she asked the man.

Tom’s grin grew.  “The boy was hungry.  I merely gave him what he wanted.”

Hermione now looked at the man.  “And what do you intend to do when he’s done eating?”

Tom’s vision pointed towards the cauldron suspended over a set of flames and Hermione rushed to peek inside.  Where she expected to find boiling water, however, was a bubbling purple concoction.

Everything began to piece together.  “Your making some sort of potion,” she stammered.  “And you’re going to use Ron as one of your ingredients.”

Tom cackled.  “You’re a smart one,” he said, pacing towards Hermione.  She stepped back against the meat lined walls.  “But do not worry.  I do not intend to use all of your friend.  Just enough of his blood to keep me fed for the next several months.”  He once more bared his pointed teeth.  “Like I said, I seldom get visitors.  So I must make the most of it when I do.”

She only had a moment to process before Tom leapt forward in an attempt to capture her, but Hermione scrambled away just in time.  She raced towards Ron and tapped his face.

“Snap out of it, Ron,” she implored, but he remained too fixated on the food.  

“Don’t bother,” Tom said with a sharp hiss.  “That food is laced with a potion that will keep him occupied for the next few hours I’d say.”

Tom once more lunged at Hermione, but she ducked below the table in safety.  Tom landed on top of it, prompting Ron’s buffet to fall on the ground.

“Hey!” Ron cried.  “I’m eating here!”

Ron bent to the ground and resumed his feasting while Hermione fought to fend off Tom.  She threw whatever she could at him.  Shards of broken plate, handfuls of food, even the kitchen chairs, but it was only stalling him.  Tom was starting to close in on her, her back growing dangerously close to the fireplace.  She needed to get out of there before he attempted to make a blood potion out of her as well.  

And then, Hermione got an idea.

Summoning all her strength, Hermione lifted the cauldron off the fire, ignoring the burning that pained through her hands at the touch of the hot metal.  She flung the cauldron as hard as she could and threw it at Tom, hitting him squarely in the chest.

Tom stared at Hermione in disbelief, the hot purple potion now dripping down his front.  Anger rippled over him.

“You’ll pay for that!”

But Hermione was faster.  With the few seconds she had granted herself with Tom’s reaction to getting hit, she had located the key to her victory.

Tom raced towards her, and once she knew he had too much momentum to stop, she pulled out the fireplace poker from behind her back.  Before the man realized what she had done, Tom had been speared by its pointer.

A loud thunk echoed in the small cottage as Tom fell flat against the floor, gripping at the point of impact.  Hermione watched silently as what little color had been in his face to begin with faded from existence until his shallow breathing stopped.

With that final breath, the charm on Ron wore off, and he snapped out of his trance.  He looked around the room in confusion and then turned to shock when he saw Tom’s dead body.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Long story,” she said.  “But this is the last time I follow you somewhere!”

[staboteur]

Continued from: x

@unflappable-red

It was hard to see him like this. He worked at the perimeter, checking signs only he could see. He did something to the doors at night so the alarms would register an intruder. All the time, Jay observed, he had this determined, murderous look in his eyes that wouldn’t fade with anything except the daylight.

Today was the same. Jay was stirring a pot of pasta when the porch door banged open and there he was, covered in dirt and looking weary as ever he’d been. That crack in his spirit shifted to a break in his eyes. Nothing else had eased this mysterious tension as of yet. No, Jay figured there was only one thing for his friend.

Jay offered a tentative hug. It was shallow, with a gentle pat on the shoulder at first, but soon the stress of the day would melt away.

Jay was certain this would help him, whoever he was.

It had been years. Years. And his best friend just showed up at his door after going missing for years. René was never, ever going to make the same mistake again. Never. This meant he had to ensure a constant perimeter was kept around the farm. Every morning and every night, he needed to check that every sensor and camera was in working order. 

When he walked in that night, his legs burning from the strain and his eyes stinging from staying open too long, the last thing he expected was a hug. Least of all a hug from a man who now barely knew him. Without his active consent, his body collapsed against Jay’s, less of a hug than a plea for support.

“... Jay...” the name slipped from his mouth without his bidding, his voice was low and raspy from dehydration. A lump formed in his throat, his eyes stinging even more, but he blamed it on the sudden shift in atmosphere from outdoors and indoors. “Do you... Do you remember anything? Please... If you do, you have to tell me...”

[penaltybox14]

I got bored at work and doodled this little SVU character study.  @sergeantdodds

Sonny loves Christmas. 

For Sonny, Christmas is all the best things in the world crammed into a two (official) day span strung out between December first and dawn on December 26th.  Foremost: food.  Then family and Church, those intermingled, because to Sonny Church is family, God is love and love is his heart stumbling and yearning and racing to be near and kind, like his heard and tongue will fall out of his body in their haste for righteousness.  Christmas is magic to him - light in darkness, hope in frost.  It's midnight mass and sacred songs in candlelight and the story of a child born homeless to young parents who grows up Lord, uncommon of peace and kindness.  Christmas is Noah and Jesse and their laughing light, the little ones who come sidelong into the world, come into the arms of peace.  Sonny would like some days more arms to hold the children he loves the children of those he loves, his family.  Sonny is not particular about family, not in the sense of blood requirements or even marriage.  Liv and Fin and Amanda and Mike - he'd trust and die and love for them, he would.  When he was a kid and too soft for the brothers and cousins and uncles, his Priest said to him, son, come with me.  And he did and saw the world could be right with hands not fists, and words. He'd forgotten that, by the time he got to SVU.  Or not forgot so much as buried - so much as been burned by those older claiming themselves wiser.  He didn't want to be no sissy.   Lieutenant Benson taught him - like a friendly cuff around the ears - that kindness wasn't cowardice out here, that his forever-soft heart had something to give, some scratch for purpose.  Father Cleary had said to him, son, you remember what Jesus did with his hands?  Son, he made things, he built them up, he crafted them.

Sonny is no carpenter.  But he can cook and he can usually suss out what a person will like most, the things they want but never whisper.  Sonny always liked to do things, in a grand and practical way.  He feeds his family, his friends (no real distinction).  Fin has a penchant for chocolate and Liv hadn't had shortbread in years, and it makes him tremble to think of the look on her face.  He makes pasta and casseroles for Amanda, solid and warm.  After Mike was shot the second time it took him ages to get to real food, and Sonny would sneak him broth, then soup, then stew.  Mike thanks him, muttering and blushing.  Sonny thinks there were a lot of TV dinners in Mike's childhood, a lot of tin foil and burnt fingers.  He longs to put some meat and muscle under Matt's ribs, too.  That'd put him off the dope, he thinks.  Oatmeal with cinnamon and fat raisins - right off the dope for good, a meal like that. 

Christmas is a month long excuse to bring food to the precinct.  They work long hours. New York has probably the best Chinese take-out stateside but it gets old, after a while. Chinese and pizza, pizza and Chinese.  Best and fair to bring in a pan of lasagna or a pot pie, something that'll stick to the ribs.  Something that'll keep them going.  The squadroom smells like sauces and warmth, like a place where people live.  One long late night the leftovers go to three young children picked up after a trafficking raid - two boys and a girl in Wal-Mart pajamas, nowhere else to go, not coming from the middle of a crime scene.  The children stall, then eat at last the rattle of plastic forks and the whisper of paper plates.   Off-brand orange crush  from the machine.  Glassy-eyed and fearful but fed and warm, for the long road ahead, statements and interviews and the search for any family that longs for their children yet. 

Cold December nights, long and light-scarce, where the dawn comes up shallow and soft and so clear your eyes might well see God in the rim between cloud and sky.  Trains bang across the five-am bridges and pale weak light bathes them and strangers squint.

[fearofaherobrine]

Roleplay Server Log #280

“Dawn Repairs Sally, Pottery Lessons”

[Splender] He and Sally are about to head out of the server to gather supplies for his brother's gift-

[Sally] Is bouncing excitedly- Let's go!  Let's go!

[Gk] Is flopped across the path and twitches his goatlike ears at the childish sound- Hmm?

[Sally] Laughs as she grabs onto Splender's leg-

[Gk] Picks up his head and looks at her quizzically- Who's the kid?

[Splender] - Oh!  Gk!  Hello, this is Sally!

[Gk] Twitches his ears - is she one of the village kids?

[Splender] - No, she's a pasta!

[Gk] Aww, a little pasta? - Leans his head near her - Looks like a cute little macaroni type. -winks at her-

[Sally] Hides behind Splender a little-

[Splender] - We're going to go get some stuff for her gift to my brother for his birthday

[Gk] Which brother? I don't think you'd take a little kid to buy something for Offender!- snorts -What's the matter kid, you scared of me?

[Splender] - She's always nervous around new people, especially men...

[Sally] - No, it's for papa

[Gk] Oh. I can.. uh.. hang on- He transforms and isn't much taller then Sally in his human shape. - Who's your dad? I thought BEN was the only pasta with a kid?

[Sally] - Papa Slender!

[Splender] - Brother is strangely defensive of her and has taken on a parental role for her, especially after what happened to her

[Gk] Oh the biggest brother! Reminds me of Cp. Murderous to adults, but nice to kids...

[Sally] - You know CP?  He's one of the ones who plays with me the most!

[Splender] - Actually...

[Gk] Yep. He's my drinking buddy. Though not as often lately since I'm helping raise Endrea's kiddos.

[Sally] - Oh, it's been a lot more quiet since almost nobody is home...  And Endrea is cute when she's rteally tiny!

[Gk] You should visit more often then. She's got three little kids of her own that are near always feeling playful.

[Sally] - Okay!  But first we have to go get some shells for Papa!

[Gk] shells?

[Sally] - For his present!

[Gk] You're going to give him shells? Will they at least have edible stuff in them?

[Sally] - No!  To decorate a vase!  Splendy's going to help me!

[Gk] Cocks his head at her - Why don't you use gems? Something sparkly?

[Sally] - Because I wanna use shells!

[Gk] Okay? - Looks at Splender in confusion.

[Splender] - That's just how humans are, now we should be going before it gets dark out

[Gk] Do you want me to walk with you? The mobs usually leave me the nether alone.

[Splender] - Oh no, we're going out to the real world

[Gk] Oh. Okay. Well look out for MIBs and stuff.

[Splender] - Oh trust me, we're going someplace safe

[Gk] What would you consider safe?

[Splender] - Dawn's island!

[Gk] Oh, the witch. Yeah, I'd say that's pretty safe. I hear it's isolated as all get out and well... Basil is here already.

[Splender] - Yup!

[Sally] - Splendy!  Let's go!

-The morning in the woods dawn's crisp and icy and Doc is pacing a little bit. -

[Doc] Xe throws the bunker door open and the light streams in fully, bringing with it a breath of cold, clean air.

[Lie] - Shut the door!

[Doc] Ignores her and leans out to see. - Wow...

[Lie] - Doc that's too cold

[Doc] Fine. - Xe closes the door except for a crack and goes outside.

-The snow has fallen and covered everything in pure white drifts nearly knee deep, and more against the sides of the building. Hir breath fogs out and hir boots crunch in the snow. The trees are just bare black branches clawing at the empty blue sky. -

[Lie] Is grumbling inside, trying to build the warmth back up again-

[Doc] Turns back to look at the door. The scratches are still there, incised deep into the metal, but some of them seem somehow fresher.

[Lie] Mentally- Why do you want to be out there is the frozen hell scape?

[Doc] It's actually kind of pretty. I'm not used to snow being more then just a white dusting on the ground.

[Lie] - How much is out there?

[Doc] It's pretty deep, about to your knees. But it's super powdery.

[Lie] - That's pretty deep, don't try to walk through it, you don't know where there might be holes

[Doc] Makes hir way carefully back to the door and steps down hard into a slushy spot. The muck leaves a black film on one boot and xe shakes it with some annoyance. - Too late...

[Lie] - Come on back and warm up by the fire

[Doc] Walks back in and leaves hir wet jackboots by the door.

-The brackish film slides slowly down the leathery surface and pools under the boot, getting into the crevices between the sole and the heelplate.

[Doc] Is wearing purple socks and skips quickly over to sit by the lava pool. - The ground is wet under all that ice.

[Lie] - Yeah that happens.  So, anything other than your brief excursion outside planned for today?

[Doc] Well I would have happily gone for a longer walk, but it's probably a bad idea. I don't want to get lost. Are we running low on anything?

[Lie] - Not that I can tell, we still have a tiny bit of Chinese food too

[Doc] Darn... I was kind of looking for an excuse to pop back for a few.

[Lie] - Why?  Do you need to get anything?

[Doc] No, I just get worried.

[Lie] - Then go, I can hold down the fort here

[Doc] Are you sure? It's not really fair to keep leaving you.

[Lie] - I'll be fine, actually, there is something you could get for me while you're over there

[Doc] Anything.

[Lie] - A small vial of the lust nectar

[Doc] Gulps - I might have one... stored someplace...

[Lie] - I would appreciate it

[Doc] Can do. - Xe pulls hir shoes back on and opens the way to the server. Xe takes a welcome breath of the warm air and walks briskly from the spawn towards hir house. The front door opens with a familiar creak and the Doctor doesn't even notice the black footprint hir boot leaves on the carpet at the bottom of the stairs. Later that night, the mark isn't there anymore anyway.

[Sally] Is giddily playing in the shallow waves on the sandy beaches of Dawn's island-

[Splender] Is watching her from the shade of the trees-

[Dawn] Slips silently through the trees and stands next to Splender. - Aww. You brought a ghost out for a nice day at the beach? She's so young. Poor child.

[Mort] Is carring Samedi in his arms, the black rooster looks comfy and drowsy. He was obviously letting Dawn see who was there first. - Oh, hey Splender. It's a lovely day isn't it?

[Splender] - Oh hello you two! Yes, we came out here to find some shells, but somebody seems to be having a bit more fun with the water at the moment [Sally] Reaches for something in the water that she picks up- Splender! I found a crab!

[Splender] - Careful! Don't let it pinch you!

[Sally] Runs back over to Splender to show him the crab but when she see's Dawn and Mort she gets shy and looks at Splender for reassurance-

[Mort] gently- That's a big old crab! Those guys are pinchy.

[Sally] Nods a little and then looks at Splender- Splendy?  Can we keep it?

[Splender] - No Sally, it lives here, but maybe it can stay with us while we're visiting

[Samedi] ruffled feathers, and opens one eye to look at the girl. Sensing something off about her

[Splender] Creates a bucket and holds it out for Sally- Here, put mister crab in here

[Sally] Drops the crab in and then looks at it- He's hungry

[Dawn] They'll eat pretty much anything, they're scavengers

[Sally] - Like cookies?

[Dawn] Maybe? You can try.

[Sally] Looks at Splender- Cookie please

[Splender] Laughs and pulls a sugar cookie out of his sleeve- Such good manners

[Sally] Drops it into the bucket with the crab- There he goes

[Mort] Is petting the chicken softly. It keeps opening and closing its beak, but there's no sound.  

[Splender] Creates another bucket- Here you go, why don't you put the shells in here.  We need to hurry so we can make the present

[Sally] - Okay!- She goes running off with both buckets on the hunt for shells

[Dawn] Oh no... is it time to glue shells to things?

[Mort] Snorts-

[Splender] - Nope!  Pressing into clay to make a vase!

[Dawn] I have nice clay and a kiln if she just wants to make a pot...

[Splender] - Oh really?  That would be wonderful since I don't know much about clay myself

[Mort] Wanders over to Sally- Do you want some help?

[Dawn] Certainly. Mort's very good at making ceramics. I mostly do the firing. But Doc gave us a bunch of really nice clay if you want to partake.

[Splender] - I just might

[Sally] - Hi!  I like your chicken!

[Mort] Thank you. His name is Samedi, you can pet him if you want.

[Samedi] Looks at her quizzically.

[Sally] Puts one of her buckets down and reaches out to pet the bird-

[Samedi] Is petted and stays perfectly quiet. His coat is glossy and black and his tail feathers arch over Mort's elbow and trail a little.

[Sally] Giggles- Will you help me find shells?

[Mort] Sure! - He transfers the rooster to his shoulder and helps her look.

[Sally] Splashes through some of the water and then runs towards a rock.  As she runs, she trips and falls, hitting her head on it.  Her entire demeanor shifts as her color dulls and her clothes become dirtier and blood begins to flow down her face-

[Mort] Rushes to her as the rooster clings to his hoodie - Splender!

[Dawn] Also rushes to help-

[Splender] Turns to look- Wait!  Don't touch her!

[Mort] Brushes her clothing and then jerks away at Splenders yell -

[Samedi] Goes crazy flapping madly at Sally and opening his beak as if to caw at her-

[Dawn] Gives a startled hiss at the childs appearance

-The brief contact was all Sally's abilities needed as Mort becomes petrified as his mind is barraged from memories of when Sally was living.  The small ghost reaches down and picks up the rock-

[Splender] Teleports to Sally and stops her from moving any farther- Shhhhh, it's okay, he's not here.  You're safe little one- He's trying to coax the rock from Sally's hand so she can't bash in Mort's skull

[Mort] Is sitting in the water crying as Dawn reaches him.

[Dawn] Is already turning to snatch the rock out of her hand as Splender appears.

[Sally] Is crying- Don't let him get me...

[Splender] - Shhh, it's okay, remember?  Papa already took care of him

[Mort] Just curls up as Dawn lifts him and the rooster from the water.

[Dawn] She carries him solemly to the shore and sets him down, protecting him with her arms and magick.

[Mort] Lets out a small sob.

[Splender] - I'm so sorry about this, if I'd been a little faster in my warning...

[Mort] Is hugging himself. - Why...?

[Dawn] -sighs-

[Splender] - She's a creepy pasta, it's the way she's found to be able to disable her prey so she can kill them

[Dawn] I think he means just why in general Splender. His mom was abusive. He has a lot of bad memories of his own already.

[Splender] - Sally's parents weren't the abusive ones, it was her uncle

[Dawn] Still... It's nothing he wants to think about.

[Splender] - I apologize...  If you want us to leave...

[Sally] Is just crying into Splender's jacket now-

[Dawn] I take it this is something she can't control?

[Splender] - No, it isn't.  The bleeding and dulling of her colors is normal for when she gets upset, it was her hitting her head that kicked her killing instinct into gear

[Mort] Could we... bless her? Would that help at all?

[Splender] - I don't know

[Dawn] It helped him, and it won't hurt someone who's already dead.

[Splender] - If you're certain,  brother would be very upset if anything happened to her

[Dawn] If there's one thing I'm good with Splender, it's the dead and undead. I've been given power over them by my patron.

[Splender] Looks down at Sally- Are you alright now?

[Sally] Peeks at Dawn and Mort- I'm sorry

[Mort] I forgive you.

[Dawn] Me as well.

[Mort] Come over here, I want to show you something. - He's still sitting on the sand with Dawn behind him-

[Sally] Nervously looks at Splender who encourages her over, she goes over, still bloody-

[Mort] Pats the ground for her to sit in front of him. The sand is warm, white and powdery.

[Sally] Sits, looking curiously at Mort-

[Mort] Dawn's father, and for all in intents and purposes, my father-in-law is Azrael, the angel of Death.

[Sally] - Who?

[Dawn] The Grim Reaper? Very tall skeleton in a black robe with silvery gray wings?

[Sally] Shrugs-

[Mort] There's a small creaking noise as he smirks his skull a little. - It's okay, the point is he gave me something special. A blessing energy to help keep me alive. - He reaches down and unzips his hoodies so the front falls open. The empty ribs inside are lit up from within by a plume of green fire dancing in the center of the space.

[Sally] - Doesn't that burn?

[Mort] No, it's actually a little bit cold. - He passes a hand over where his heart would be and some of the flames jump to his fingers, dancing between the bones.

[Sally] Watches with fascination-

[Mort] Do you mind if I touch you with it? It may help you forget your re-occuring nightmare.

[Sally] - No more Uncle Joe?

[Mort] Yes.

[Sally] - Okay

[Dawn] Give me a moment... - She stands up fully and drags her heel in a circle around them making some gestures and quiet words in the cardinal directions before coming back to put her hands on her mate's shoulders from behind again- Ready.

[Splender] - Oh do be careful

[Mort] I will, it's a good energy. Watch this. - He wipes his hand on the sand and it leaves a trail of green shoots of grass on the formerly pristine surface.

[Sally] - Plants!

[Mort] Are you ready?

[Dawn] Is gathering her energies as well and feeds them into him-

[Mort] He holds out his own bony fingers, all wreathed in fire. -Take my hands please.

[Sally] Reaches for his hands, her smaller ones fitting snuggly inside his bony ones-

[Dawn] Lifts her voice and the words flow like water around the circle-  In nomine Angelus custos est ad finem omnia, ut iubes animam tuam. Liber esto darkess esta est, et vade in odium suum et foedum habent quod putent adhuc vestram narrando revocare. Esta volo mundare et ex contagio alios afficiunt. Iustitiae omnino mercedis accepit te. In Gruva nomen liberari. Sic fiat semper. -

[Mort] The green fire wreathes the three of them briefly and then slides back inside him.

-The circle is now full of a lush carpet of grass that ends exactly at the line Dawn made in the sand.

[Dawn] Makes a starred circle with her right hand and quietly releases the corners of the temporarily sacred space.

[Sally] - I feel funny...

[Mort] Uncurls his fingers gently - Funny good?

[Dawn] Shakes herself off a bit- That was heavy stuff...

[Sally] - I think so?

[Splender] Swoops in to hug Sally- Oh thank goodness you're alright!

[Dawn] Well I don't suggest we injure her to test it, so let me know how it goes, okay?

[Splender] - Oh absolutely!   Now what do we say Sally?

[Sally] - Thank you

[Mort] Can we go make pots now?

[Dawn] Chuckles-

[Sally] - That's right!  Papa's gift!

[Dawn] Come on then- Motions up the path.

[Samedi] Goes strutting ahead-

[Sally] Is put down and she follows along behind Dawn-

-The group passes through a lot of jungle and enters into a clearing bordered on the back and sides by a sheer rock face. The rooster disturbs the chickens pecking in the yard and they scatter a bit at the newcomers approach. Mort picks his way between the lush garden and the side of the house back to a shed with an open side, pulling the tarp away to reveal what's within. There's a wheel and a long table and shelves with pots in various stages of completion. The most striking thing though is a huge clay block, nearly square but missing a chunk off one corner.

[Splender] - Ready to work Sally?

[Sally] Nods eagerly-

[Mort] Good. Here, I'll set you up. -He takes a wire with a bit of wood on either end like a garrotte and uses it to slice a hunk of clay from the block. It's already perfect and moist and he drops it on the table for her. There are already some tools laying around with weird ends and smoothing edges.

[Sally] Plunges her fingers into it-

[Mort] Watches her - are we doing pinch or coil?

[Sally] - I don't know what that means

[Mort] Well pinch is like this- He takes a ball and shoves his thumb into the center- then you just go around and around and make the walls thinner by squeezing.

[Sally] Plops the clay onto the table- It makes a funny noise!

[Mort] Yep, it's squishy!

[Splender] Just sits back to watch-

[Dawn] Is watching bemused - You want in Splender?

[Splender] - Oh no, I'm happy to watch

[Dawn] Are you sure? With those long fingers you might get a kick out of the wheel.

[Mort] Is showing Sally how to roll a snake for coiling pots.

[Sally] Is making snake noises as she does so-

[Splender] - Oh I've done it many times in the past, but I find it more entertaining to see what children come up with

[Dawn] Ah, okay. Well you're always welcome to do so here. We've got plenty of clay and it fires better if the kiln is nice and full.

[Splender] - I will keep that in mind

[Sally] - Is just having fun, her vase having several little holes in it-

[Mort] I know a better way to use the shells too!

[Sally] - Really?

[Mort] Smooths out a bit of clay with a rubber tool and takes a shell before pressing it deeply into the clay- the actual shells would break in the kiln, but the textures make all kinds of interesting stamped patterns.

[Sally] Cool!- Starts pressing them everywhere

[Mort] If you want, I can glaze it too, then it will be all glassy and smooth - gestures at some finished pieces around them.

[Sally] - Pretty

[Mort] Just pick a color.

[Sally] - Pink!

[Mort] Okay, I'll make a note. You just work on that part. Make sure the walls aren't any thicker then this -Pinches his fingers to show her a small amount of space. - and try not to fold the clay over itself. Bubbles will make it blow up.

[Sally] - Okay!- Shew sticks out her tongue in concentration

[Splender] Hums in contentment as he leans back, ready to be patient-

[jesbakescookies]

Too Hot To Handle: Chapter Seven

So I kinda wrote a different kind of fanfiction. It’s nothing as in depth as my other fics so I am going to post it here. ENJOY!!

        ***Actor, Real Person Fanfiction, Walking Dead RPF***

Featuring: Jeffrey Dean Morgan X Original Female Character, Norman Reedus and others.. (FYI this is total fiction, as in I know nothing about JDMs life or that of his real SO and son etc. Because of this, for this work of fiction, they don’t exist. Jeffrey’s been a typical actor playboy dating fellow stars etc. This is written for sick daydreaming pleasure.)

Aria St. James is a busy woman with a thriving restaurant. She thought she had everything she needed until a few famous faces visit her dining room. A tall, dark and handsome actor decides Aria’s just what he’s been looking for.

Rating: Mature

Aria pulled off her chef coat and dug through the closet in her office for a change of clothes. Her shirt was sweaty and she felt overall disgusting from being behind a stove all day. Jeffrey was going to be there any moment and she would rather wear a potato sack than the t-shirt sticking to her back. 

"Ah hah!" She exclaimed finding a fairly unwrinkled shirt with her restaurant’s logo on it. Yanking off her shirt, she washed up quickly in the staff bathroom and changed into the fresh tee. She couldn't do anything about her black chef pants, the splash of something on her thigh making her grimace. 

"All well." She muttered, heading into the kitchen to whip them up some leftovers from the service. Spooning the last of the carrot soup into a shallow bowl, topping it off with smoked duck and chopped herbs, Aria heard the knock on the front door. Smiling widely, she set the dish down on the counter and headed out to let Jeffrey in. 

He stood with his hands in his pockets, a black hoodie over an old misfits t-shirt. Aria smirked at the beanie he wore and decided Jeffrey out of leather was just as fucking handsome. 

"Hey there beautiful." He rasped before kissing temple and pulling her into a body warming hug. Aria took in a deep breath as he rocked them back and forth while nuzzling it her hair. 

"Mmm. You're an excellent hugger." She commented, as they pulled apart, the compliment making Jeffrey grin smugly. 

"Thanks darlin'." 

Rolling her eyes playfully, she motioned to the kitchen. "Hungry?"

"Always."

Taking the spread of different dishes to the comfiest of booths, Aria grabbed a bottle of wine from the service counter. Jeffrey took it from her and poured them both a glass. 

"Everything looks amazing sweetheart." He leaned towards her, kissing her cheek. "Tell me about 'em."

Aria explained each dish while they ate, Jeffrey moaning through bites making her laugh. 

"You're a fucking goofball." She chuckled at his over the top compliments.

"What?" He asked with raised eyebrows and a dimpled grin. "Just telling you how it is sweetpea."

Blushing at his pet name, Aria replied, "I'm happy you're enjoying everything."

"So this is all on the new menu?"

"Yep." She nodded, sinking into the booth with a pleased smile. "I think this is my best spring."

"I can only compare it to other places fares and you my dear are heads above the rest." He drawled with a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he teased, "Despite how petite you may be."

She couldn't even be bitter about the quip when he wrinkled his nose and grinned his bright smile at her. ‘Handsome fucker.’ She thought wryly.

"You're the worst." She scoffed, suppressing a grin as she glared mockingly. Jeffrey bellowed, his head thrown back as he replied. "Oh darlin', shit you're a riot."

Their laughter died down and they found themselves staring silently at each other. Aria felt a flush bloom across her chest and up her neck, her cheeks turning rosy under his hooded stare. He was eating her whole with those bedroom eyes and she was enjoying every second of it. 

"You are so goddam beautiful. You know that?" He stated, his voice low and as rough as asphalt. A cadence only developed by a bad habit of cigarettes and stiff drinks. She adored it and wanted it rasped into her ear.

Smirking, Aria sipped her wine and cocked her eyebrow. "I think you've mentioned it before.”

Chuckling lowly, Jeffrey drummed his fingers on the back of the booth in thought, his tongue darting across his bottom lip. As he continued to look her over, he cocked his head to the side and rasped, "I wanna know more about you."

"Oh yeah? Like what?"

"Anything... Everything. Where’re you from?”

"Umm. Well, I was born in Nevada outside of Vegas. I hated it. It always felt dead to me, everything being brown and covered in dirt and sand.  We were poor, my dad was a janitor at the grade school and my mom fed me canned crap and fast food." Her nose was wrinkled is disgust. "I was starved for something but I didn't know what."

"That's how you got interested in cooking?"

"Sorta yeah. I decided at sixteen I was done with high school so I took the GED and took off. My parents weren't too concerned with me so I travelled. I wanted to go somewhere that had everything I could ever want, so I took a greyhound to New York. The melting pot or so I read about. And of course I met a guy, fell in love and we found ourselves on a plane to Amsterdam where he promptly dumped me.”

“What an asshole.” Jeffrey scoffed, with his long arm on the back of the booth he leaned closer as she spoke. His fingers played with a lock of her hair, twirling it between two. Swallowing thickly, she fought the urge to turn her head and kiss the tan skin below his watch. Aria wanted to lick a path up the side of his long neck and bite his jaw bone while fisting his hair. She could almost taste his salty skin on her tongue. 

Clearing her throat she continued, “Total douchbag. Anyways, I was eighteen and stranded in a foreign country by myself. I just became this vagabond working in different restaurants under the table to travel and feed myself. I figured out real soon that I had a passion for food so I tried to learn everything I could about running a kitchen."

Jeffrey grinned at the knowledge, his eyes bright. "I never would've fucking pictured you traveling like that."

"Why?"

"Because you're a planner."

Rolling her eyes she muttered, "I was young, dumb and out of choices."

"Tell me more." He replied, biting his lip in anticipation. "Where'd you go? What’d you learn?"

"I learned how to get pissed in England.” She spoke with a laugh as Jeffrey joined her. “In Paris an old baker named Louis taught me how to make a proper beignet and the best loaf of crusty sourdough you'll ever taste. I bicycled through Italy and tasted every kind of pasta and wine ever created. About five years passed with me never settling down until I ended up on a flight back to New York. I wanted to be back in the states."

Sipping his wine, Jeffrey asked, "Homesick?"

"Maybe in a way. I mean I’d been to a lot of places but I wanted to be back in America. I worked in New York under different head chefs. Many different kinds of restaurants from highscale French to mom and pop pizzerias. I paid my dues with literal blood, sweat and tears." Snorting she offered, "if you think I'm tough on Javier you should've seen some of the shit I put up with. All five foot two of me."

"Don't forget the half." He rasped with a grin, his eyes twinkling.

"And a half." She repeated with a smirk. "These macho assholes tried to stomp all over me. Like making the new girl break was sport or something. I had one boss make me work all night cleaning all seven ovens with a toothbrush and then was made to work on the line at open."

"Jesus." Jeffrey scoffed, "what a dickhole."

"Yeah that wasn't fun." She muttered, finishing off her glass of red wine before Jeffrey refilled it with a grin.

"You getting me drunk?" She murmured, her eyes twinkling in humor.

"Just keeping your tongue wet darlin'." He drawled, a smile tugging on the corner of his lip. 

"Tell me all about you.”

"Don't say you haven't googled me."

"I haven't." She confessed with a shrug, "I figured if you want me to know, you'll tell me."

Jeffrey's mouth parted and he stared at her for a long moment before he shook his head in disbelief. "You are one of a fucking kind doll."

"I'm not saying I don't know stuff, I mean fucking Javier and Cheryl are like walking tabloids. They tried to give me the low down. I stopped them but some things made it to my ears."

"Like what?"

"That you're quite a ladies man." She offered with a smile, her eyebrow cocked high.

Scoffing, he rolled his eyes but Aria could see his ears turning pink. "No more than the next man."

Cutting him a break, Aria replied, "Like I said. I mostly didn't listen and what I heard, I took with a grain of salt. I'm an open person, I don't really hide who I am or what I've done. I like to keep company with like minded people. I'm just hoping you'll be one of them."

Jeffrey smiled easily at her, his expression genuinely pleased. "I would be the happiest fuck alive to keep company with you sweetheart."

  He tried to keep his hands and mouth away from her but it was impossible when she smiled at him with those pouty fucking lips. Jeffrey couldn’t stop himself from pulling her into his lap, her legs straddling his hips as they made out desperately. 

"Fuck doll." He huffed, when she pulled away to kiss his neck, his hands tightening on her hips as she rolled them against his pocket rocket. "Gonna make me blow if you keep grinding my dick like that."

"Maybe I wanna make you blow." She breathed into his ear before sucking his lobe into her hot mouth, her hands buried in his hair. 

"Mother of fuck." He groaned, thrusting off the seat into her spread thighs. "Darlin, I'm gonna tear your clothes off if we keep up at this rate."

"If we count our Skype calls as one date, we can call this our third.” She murmured, her lips quirked to the side as the words sunk into Jeffrey’s lust addled brain. Smiling slowly, his hands slid up and down her thighs and he drawled, “You wearin’ you’re superhero costume under here.”

Aria laughed, her head thrown back and she offered, “Truthfully, at the moment I am not.”

“Well that’s un-fucking-acceptable.” He grunted, his face trying to pull of disappointment but failing miserably. How could he be disappointed when he had a stunner in his lap?

Snorting, Aria leaned forward and kissed him slow and deep, her tongue stroking and curling with his. Whispering against his lips, Aria confessed, “There’s no costume but I am naked underneath if that makes up for it.”

Jeffrey couldn’t stop from grabbing her ass and rutting up into her core, the man desperate to bury himself deep inside her fluttering walls.

“I swear to Christ.” He rasped, nuzzling into her neck and behind her ear. “You get me hotter than fuck.”

“I think we should move this party somewhere else.” She murmured, peering down at him as his hands gripped her narrow waist.

“Oh yeah? Where too?” Jeffrey asked hoarsely, his eyes trailing over her swollen lips and mussed hair.

“My place’s very close.” Aria replied, her lips pulling into a crooked smile.

“Fuck yeah it is.” He grunted, motioning to the table of dishes. “We gotta clean up first.”

“Fuck it. I’ll do it in the morning. I gotta grab my bag.” She replied, sliding from his lap while tugging on his hand.

“You in a hurry babydoll?” he asked with a chuckle, his long legs unfolding from the booth. Aria smirked back at him while pulling him to the back of the restaurant to grab her things. “You want to take a leisurely stroll or do you wanna go to my place and fuck?”

Jeffrey wasn’t sure if his eyes could get any wider as the words spilled from her pretty fucking mouth.  “You keep talking like that and we won’t make it to the fucking bike, let alone your bed.”

“Who said anything about needing a bed?”

Find Chapter Eight here:

http://jesbakescookies.tumblr.com/post/162290342061/too-hot-to-handle-chapter-eight

I started posting this fic over on AO3 also. I will probably post in both places since I’m still figuring out AO3 formatting etc.

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged for updates. I’ll try my best to remember!

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