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pascalssbabyy · 11 months ago

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Take A Seat

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Rating: 18+ Explicit MDNI

Word Count: 2.6k

Summary: Joel’s a stubborn man. And if he wants you to just sit on his cock, then so be it.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT mdni, no use of Y/N, no plot (just pure filth ayyy), no age mentioned, pet names, P in V, orgasm denial, reader rides Joel, so much cock warming, stubborn Joel, slight dom!Joel but he’s also soft 🥹, reader is very cockdrunk in this.

Hello lovelies 🥰 Here’s a quick little drabble for you guys to enjoy! This has been stuck in my head and I just had to share!😈

Also, I just want to say a massive thank you to @schnarfer for reading over this for me and for being just so bloody lovely 🤍

You have never desired anything as much as Joel in this very moment.

The burning itch in your core was teased relentlessly. It was tantalised and left with broken promises, completely drenched with overpowering want and desire. You needed that release, your orgasm being tapped so subtly and on the brink of ecstasy. Bliss that had your eyes rolling back and strained, vision clouded with white sparks and mouth fully agape, your bare skin glazed and sweaty, sticky.

You can sense that height of pleasure. You wanna reach out to it and never let go. To have it surround your body and brush across your lips, to taste it, coating the insides of your mouth and all over your tongue. It’s so so close. But once it’s about to overflow and spill, mind perfectly submerged in euphoria…it suddenly falls. Dropping to complete nothingness, to irritation.

You’re frustrated, agitated. Your frame is aching and tired from unpredictability. And how can you not be? Your climax is pushed to its very limit and then taken away just as quickly.

It’s so cruel. No, he’s cruel.

“Joel, please,” you beg, plead and whimper. Shit you’ll do anything at this point, “please, can I move.”

You don’t know how long you had been sat here, sat on him. It could be minutes or even hours, you don’t actually know anymore. You feel like all aspects of life around you and time have been removed from your head and been replaced with pained jubilance, gripping touches and Joel. You peer down at him, your bottom perched nicely and legs wide on his strong muscular thighs, his heavy cock nestled inside of you, and so fucking deep, your walls gripping his cock hard like a vice.

Joel lies down on crumpled bedding. A trail of clothes and fabrics starting from the entrance door and leading a path to your shared bedroom; a flannel hanging on the sofa, a leather belt at the bottom of the stairs and boxers resting on the foot of the bed. His natural scent fills your nostrils and it’s addictive. That hint of sweat, sandalwood and cardamom from his aftershave, his salt and pepper curls spread out on a freshly washed silk pillow, with his golden skin shining from the sun wavering through the gaps in the curtains. You glare down at his stubble, slightly overgrown and manly. Just the way you liked it. He’s overwhelmingly beautiful you think to yourself, lying below you, and all yours.

He holds your body in place while caressing you with soft and delicate strokes on your waist and hips, then dropping his touch lower to your trembling thighs. His hands move up and down and his fingers swirl in intricate patterns, writing consoling messages in your skin; just hold on for me. Only a little bit longer. Be patient sweetheart.

“Not yet baby.” He says, his words hoarse and guttural. You can discreetly hear it in his own voice, that small peak of resistance. His soft tummy clenched tightly with restraint. Like he’s holding off from either fucking himself up into you or picking you up and laying your back flat on the mattress.

He chuckles when he hears you whine, so needy. Yet Joel adores that as you still remain obedient, because you know after all of this, after all his teasing, he will soon reward you. He always does. And even in your agitated state you stay firmly sat, no movement in sight.

“Jus’ sit real still for me,” he instructs, “lemme feel you.”

Joel was always a giver. Every opportunity he’d get to worship and have you would reach its very essence. Showing his appreciation for you and providing you with anything you yearned for, allowing you whatever you wanted, whatever you needed.

But with his admiration, also came the stubbornness, that obstinate side of Joel. He wouldn’t budge if he wanted to push you a little further, to delve into something that would be oh so worth it for the both of you in the end. He liked the dominance that would come with it, to have you begging.

So, if Joel just wanted you to sit, then that’s exactly what was going to happen.

You stare down at him with a clouded vision, eyes glazed with hunger and greed. “You are Joel,” you breath out in weakened huffs, “you are feeling me.”

You lay your palms on the back of his hands that still rest at the top of your thighs and squeeze. But when he doesn’t reply you continue, impatience and desire melting into your words; “It’s jus’…,” you groan again, “god I need more.”

Joel smiles devilishly at you. Always wanting more. He watches how your legs quiver against him, fingernails digging indent marks into the thick skin of his hairy chest and anywhere you can get your hands on. He can hear your breath hitching at the back of your throat, your warm pussy pouring honey nectar all over his cock. Always making a fucking mess.

“I know darlin’, I know,” he soothes, guiding your hand up to his lips and kissing your knuckle, a little reward. “But it feels good don’t it? It feels nice jus’ sitting on my cock?”

Yes, it’s feels fucking incredible, you feel so full. But it’s not enough. The oxygen is thick and musky around your sweltering bodies, choking and filling your lungs until you’re lightheaded and dizzy.

“Mmm,” is all your mind can muster up, mouth dry and deprived of his own kisses, that still linger on your lips from before.

His mouth crashes onto yours the moment you both enter the hallway of your apartment, targeted hands tugging and ripping on skin tight clothes and feet moving quickly to usher you upstairs. You have no idea how this lustful consequence began, but Joel was ready and eager to have you, and had no intention of wasting any more time.

Your pussy engulfs his tip and you sigh, finally. Carefully dropping your hips and inching his hard length further and further inside, eyes fluttering shut and whines of Joel Joel Joel getting caught in your throat.

This wasn’t going to be like usual; the hasty rise and fall of your cunt swallowing his cock or Joel lifting his own hips to meet your swift thrusts. No, Joel kept you still this time, motionless, immobile, composed.

“And it feels good for me too, sweet girl. Real nice feeling you like this, n’so warm.”

Joels own breathing is regular and unlabored as he licks his lips; “Bet you can feel me right here, can’t you baby,” he states, pushing down onto your lower stomach with the heel of his palm, his gesture forcing the tip of his cock even deeper and you moan loudly, fingers abandoning their position and wrapping around his wrist in surprise.

“Does she feel full with me stuffed inside her?”

Your cunt contracts around his length. His filthy fucking words. Pussy gushing more arousal down his length and pooling at the base of his cock, as it begins to drip down to his balls. Joel was always going to be a stretch for you, a soreness that you never wanted to live without, his girth reaching places that you once only imagined of.

“Y-yes Joel,” you whimper, body completely overwhelmed, “yes, you feel so…so good.”

He smiles up at you, lips curling upwards displaying his dimples, his flushed cheeks, his wet lips. His skin feels hot against you, the base of his hair becoming damp and his curls appearing more prominent, more wavy in the heat.

The longer you sit the more tired your body starts to feel. Having been sat in one place without much movement has your limbs growing faint and weaker. You balance your one leg to secure yourself and ease the pins a needles developing in the soles of your feet and you sob, your adjustment causing Joel’s cock to move inside you more, and the glimpse of relief you get has your walls tightening harder around his length.

His eyebrows knit together, fingers gripping the flesh of your hips, “christ you’re so fucking tight,” Joel grits, his teeth clamping down onto each other, gnawing together.

“Sweetheart—” Joel warns, “you’ll make me come if you keep doin’ that.”

You can’t help the way you feel. Your core’s so touch starved and needy that with just a minor pinch, your orgasm is on the brink of and almost immediate, you’re not sure if you can control it much longer.

“Jus’ sit still and relax darlin’. Take some deep breaths in for me.”

You comply, taking a long and drawn-out breath in through your nose and out through your mouth, in and out, in and out, in and out. Muscles gradually unravelling from the knotted tension engraved in them.

“There you go,” he acknowledges, his voice dragged out and sweet sounding, “y’doing so well sweetheart.”

His praises only go and push you deeper, heart pumping with eagerness and chest rising and falling. You love when he talks you through it, his worship and adoration effective.

“You like that don’t you babygirl,” Joel edges, his gaze taking in the way your face contorts with gratification, “y’like when I tell you how well you’re doin’. Doin’ just what I asked of ya.”

You pull your bottom lip in between your teeth and bite down, yes. God yes.

“That’s my girl,” he says, “feel how good that pussy’s being f’me darlin’. Taking me s’well, fucking made to have my cock inside her.”

Joel kneads and massages your breasts with his wide and calloused hands, his hard working hands. Cupping and pinching your sensitive nipples with his fingers and pulling on the nubs and releasing them until they’re stiff and alert. You want nothing more than to have him sit up and suck and lick and bite them. To mark you with his teeth and tongue, to leave purplish bruises as a remembrance.

You’re too caught up in your own fantasy of Joel that when he pushes his hips up into you so slightly you gasp, the tip of his cock prodding at your g-spot, and it’s so much better than anything in your imagination.

You can’t take this anymore, you have to move. You’ll fucking explode if your orgasm doesn’t happen soon. You need to ride him until your legs ache the next morning, until your voice is all gone from the screaming and shouting you’ve let build up, to have him fuck his cock up into you at a fast and vigorous pace.

“Joel—,” you cry, salty tears threatening to spill down the sides of your face, “please let me move. M’so close—need to come so bad.”

Joel can already tell that you’re close, and he’s adamant that if he drags his cock out in minor strokes you’ll come instantly. He can feel it wrapped all around his length, your walls hugging his cock so well. He looks down at where you’re both connected and groans at the sight.

Your cunt and the hairs on his lower region are saturated and thoroughly soaked. And Joel fucking loves it, both hands moving from your breasts and lower to the front of you pussy.

“Yeah?” Joel questions, “can you feel it baby? You close?”

“I-I can’t hold it Joel,” you admit painfully, “fuck it’s right there—”

His pupils darken to an almost black, hiding the chocolatey brown that flourished through them, and it’s dangerous. “So you’re saying if I did this…” he lifts your hood up, revealing your swollen and puffy clit to the naked air and glistening with your arousal, “if I touched you here you could come right now f’me.”

Joel inches his thumb near your clit but intentionally avoids it, his thumb moving to play with your outer lips, teasing.

“Yes,” you answer, voice high and squeaky. It’s almost embarrassing with the way the confession falls from your lips, how easy it’s been for Joel to get to this moment.

“Been so mean haven’t I sweetheart,” Joel murmurs, his voice lowers an octave. “Use your words, pretty girl. Y’want me to touch you here? Will that make you feel better?”

“Please Joel—,“ you hiss, “w-want you to touch my clit.”

Joel licks the tip of his thumb, gaze averted to your own as you watch his tongue peak out of his mouth. His eyes fall shut as he moans at the taste of your wetness, swirling his tongue and covering his finger with his saliva.

“So polite darlin’,” he says softly, “been s’good for me haven’t you. Go on, you can come baby.” Joel brings his wet thumb forward, rubbing small and tender circles on your exposed and bare clit, and your body instantly begins to jerk.

“Oh fuck, Joel m’gonna—”

Your own orgasm ripples through your body in substantial waves before you even have time to react. Spine curved and fingers gripping onto the back of Joel’s thighs. Your head drops back onto your shoulders and your mouth falls open in pleasure, Joel’s name travelling through the room as your walls spasm and convulse around his length.

“Ohhh good fucking girl,” Joel praises, his words mixed with a well pleased chuckle. It’s so intense; your vision is blurred and your ears start to ring, the sound of Joel’s voice muffled and hushed.

That’s it. Come on my cock. So fucking pretty when you let go. Go on sweetheart, use me.

Joel keeps his one hand gripped on your waist to hold you up while still keeping his thumb glued on your pulsating bundle of nerves, making sure you feel every inch of your release, observing in amazement as your body starts to slow and plummet back to reality.

Your head falls onto his broad chest and Joel’s quick to envelop you, wrapping his arms around your back and threading his fingers through your hair, heart pumping and pulse racing and collapsing in a quick bursts of adrenaline.

“S’good baby,” Joel praises in your ear, “you’re okay, I got you.”

You hum against his warm chest, still catching your breath whilst listening to the soft beating of his heart.

That’s until your thighs suddenly jolt and squirm when you feel Joel cautiously lift his hips and drop them down, easing himself in and out of you at a slow pace, holding you firm by his hands on your lower back.

“Joel…wait—“

He doesn’t stop his intentions, only thrusting his cock deeper into you, the crude sound of your pussy squelching with each glide of his thickness makes him moan, his gravelly voice vibrating the side of your cheek.

“Shhh baby, it’s okay,” he whispers.

You whimper over him, shivering hands clinging to broad shoulders. That familiar pressure building up inside you, your core becoming eager again, ready to pull you into another roaring climax.

“Be good and ride me baby,” he sighs, his nose and stubble itching the side of your face and inhaling your scent, “y’wanna make me feel good now, don’t you?”

You find the energy to look at his face. And behind his smugness you can see a slight pained look. You bring your lips down to his for the first time since you’d both entered your shared bedroom, pouring your moans into his open mouth as you start to circle your hips.

Joel smiles against your lips and you pull away, watching his features furrow with hooded eyelids, “always Joel—” you breathe out, “always wanna be good for you.”

That makes Joel groan, such a good fucking girl. His hand wraps around the back of your neck in a fixed grip with lips only inches away, his next statement coming out as an order, an instruction.

“Then show me how well this pretty pussy comes bouncing on my cock.”

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

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2goth2moth · 3 years ago

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Until You Can't Stand (M!Werewolf x M!Incubus, NSFW)

Big shoutout to @xo-philia for beta-reading this for me!

Word count: 3476

Includes: Marking (biting and scratching to draw blood), mild possessiveness, pet names, knotting, scent kink (kind of), mild praise kink, non-human genitalia, self-lubrication

There was something Luke hated about being a werewolf: mating cycles. The slow, constricting heat that flooded his body every few months, the way he lost control of his shift, the oversensitivity. It interrupted every part of his life, and he hated it. The only solace he could find was the fact that it gave him an excuse to spend the week shut in with his incubus boyfriend.

He opened the door to his apartment, prickling nerves instantly soothed by the comforting smell of home. The small collection of rooms he shared with his boyfriend always smelled nice. They never could quite clean out the scent of spices and bread out of their kitchen, and it seemed to spread to all the other rooms easily. Now, however, with his senses being pushed to their limits, he could pick out all the scents that filled the small apartment: the milk and cardamom from their chai that morning that hung in the air, his own thick musk, his incubus’ clean, pleasant salt. It was stronger than usual, clearly coming from their bedroom. Luke smiled at the thought of Allius being home already. He took his shoes off at the front door, dropped his bag by the table, and went inside.

Their bedroom was small, like the rest of their apartment, and always kept cool (Luke tended to run warm). Allius was sprawled messily on the floor beside their bed in a nest of soft blankets, absentmindedly writing in the margins of a book.

He looked up at the sound of the door opening and smiled brightly. He sat up, keeping one blanket drawn around him, and reached out a hand to Luke.

“Hey, love. I wasn’t expecting you back yet.” Luke sat down on top of the blankets and took Allius’ hand gently. “Don’t you have work today?”

Allius traced his fingertips around Luke’s large nails. “Your mating cycle is starting today,” he said simply. “I wanted to be here for you. I know it’s rough to handle on your own. Besides,” he added, bringing his other hand to Luke’s face, pulling his lips back from rapidly growing teeth. “Can you really be so surprised that I want to be with the man I love right now?”

He chuffed at this, nuzzling into the hand at his face. He was shifting more now, quickly approaching the half-man-half-wolf that he would be for the days of his cycle. Allius continued toying with Luke’s hands and head as his jaw widened and extended, as his nails turned to thick, hard claws, as fur began to grow along his throat and arms. The blanket draped around the demon’s shoulders slipped down to reveal a grey shirt- one of Luke’s grey shirts- worn thin and soft in the washer. It was large on him, falling off his narrow shoulders. A low pang of want rumbled through Luke.

He nipped lightly at Allius’ fingers. “This is unfair. You look too good.”

“Really? This is unfair?” He feigned insult, gasping and dramatically putting the hand that was not being nibbled on over his heart. “And after I went through all the effort of dressing up for you!”

Luke laughed. “‘Dressing up’?” He ran a finger under the shirt’s loose neckline. “This is basically pajamas.”

“Well, you haven’t seen the whole thing yet.”

Luke’s mouth went dry at the idea of “the whole thing”. Allius must have heard his breath catch in his throat, because he kissed him once and backed away from him a little, rising to his knees. The blankets tucked around his legs fell away, exposing...holy shit.

The hem of the shirt fell clean past the middle of his thighs, hiding whatever he was wearing on the bottom, until he pulled the edge up to below his navel. Underneath, he only had black panties, cut high across the hips, with mesh on the sides. His cock was obvious, pressed against the thin fabric, and the sight sent a bolt of heat to Luke’s abdomen.

“Do you want to see more?” Allius asked, fiddling with the fabric in his hands. Luke nodded dumbly.

Crossing his arms at the hem of the shirt, Allius whipped it over his head. His human form was beautiful. Fine, dark hair covered his legs and arms, and ran down his belly to disappear under the panties. Tiny crystals twinkled at his navel and on both of his dusky nipples. He brought a hand up to toy with them one at a time, jaw clenching in pleasure as he teased each nub to full hardness.

Luke had to grind the heel of his palm into his cock to relieve some of the pressure building in his pants. “Holy shit.” He barely noticed the familiar bone-deep grind that came when a fluffy tail began sprouting from the bottom of his spine.

Stepping quietly, Allius settled himself in front of Luke again. He placed his hands primly between them and leaned forward on them to kiss the werewolf softly. A small tongue licked at the seam of his lips. He moaned, letting Allius slip his tongue in fully. Their lips moved together and Luke hummed in contentment at the feeling of that tongue trace over his sharp teeth. He sucked on it, then took Allius’ lower lip in his teeth and bit down, just hard enough to break skin. Allius pulled back with a smile and one last kiss to the corner of Luke’s mouth.

“So? How do you want me?” Allius purred, his form shimmering between human and reptilian, feathered and furred.

Seeing every one of his lover’s gorgeous forms was straining Luke’s already thin self-control. He couldn’t bear to wait another second. “You. Just... you. As yourself.”

Allius grinned devilishly, arching down into the floor as his true form rippled through his body. The skin at his hairline and on his hands and feet burnished to an inky black. Small, humanoid teeth and nails sharpened to fangs and claws, and short nubby horns sprouted from his forehead. A line of shiny, platelike scales grew down his spine, leading into a dextrous tail at the base of his back. He was perfect, every inch the demonic temptor Luke knew him to be.

Luke hardened even more at the sight, his own bushy tail lashing behind him in a combination of distress and arousal. A low, long whine came from the back of his throat. “Stop teasing.”

“Aw, puppy,” the incubus said, crawling to kneel in front of him. “Getting impatient?”

“You know I am,” he replied through gritted teeth. “I’m in my mating cycle, this is just mean.”

Allius’ gaze dropped to his cock, where it was starting to strain against the seam of his sweatpants. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” He leaned over, kissing Luke’s cheek, running his small clawed hands over the wolf’s thick thighs. The touch was electric. The air around them was heavy, musky and rich with the pheromones that Luke was putting out. “How quickly do you want to go?”

Luke buried his nose into the crook of Allius’ neck, breathing in, recognizing the now-present floral sweetness of his arousal. He ran a broad, flat tongue over his collarbone. Goosebumps erupted over Allius’ skin. It was getting difficult for the werewolf to remain coherent, but he fought his instincts. “You haven’t fed in a while. What do you need?”

This earned him a firm tap on the side of his head with the demon’s fingertips. “I feed on your pleasure, dummy. I’ll be getting my fill plenty over the next few days. You don’t need to worry about me right now.” His hands came to rest on Luke’s clothed dick. “Now, answer my question: how do you want this to go?”

The slight domineering tone sent a shiver through him. The honest answer was that he wanted everything. Everything Allius would give him, to give Allius everything in return. The short answer…

“I want to fuck you ‘til you can’t stand.”

Allius’ eyes widened slightly before he grinned again. His lips met Luke’s in a kiss, as brief and fierce as it was filthy. Nipping his bottom lip once, the incubus turned around and arched his back. The black cloth of his underwear disappeared between his asscheeks. His tail flicked slowly and playfully as he looked back over his shoulder. “What are you waiting for, alpha? I’m ready.”

Luke grabbed his hip hard in one large, clawed hand. “You know that’s not how it works.”

The demon in front of him looked pointedly at his still-hard cock. “Doesn’t seem like it’s ruining the mood though, does it?” He lowered his chest to the floor and spread his knees slightly, presenting his ass even more obviously. Luke could see the slick soaking through his panties. “Now come on, baby. I thought you said something about ‘until I can’t stand’?”

Licking his lips, Luke pulled the fabric nestled between his asscheeks aside to expose his hole. Slick, sweet-smelling and vaguely pink, ran down his balls. He lapped it up, heightened lupine senses relishing in the scent of his lover. It was intoxicating, and he licked up every drop he could, purposefully avoiding where he wanted to go most. The incubus below him was breathing heavily and pushing back against his face. A growl ripped loose from his throat as his teeth sank into a soft, plush leg. It was torture trying not to break skin, but healing in his demon form, although complete, was strenuous and cost Allius a lot of energy. Luke soothed the area with a slow drag of his tongue.

A high-pitched whimper came from the demon kneeling in front of him. Luke pulled back, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “Are you okay?”

A glance at his face showed Allius flushed and sweaty. Spit shone around his mouth where he had clearly been biting his arm to retain some composure. “You’re holding back.”

“Yeah, I know that…”

“Stop it. I want you to mark me. As much as you can. Even if it won’t hold, I want you to make me yours. Wreck me, Luke.”

This command, bitten out as Allius’ chest heaved with deep gasps and his tail lashed impatiently, snapped the remaining threads of his control. Luke snarled loudly and yanked his own pants down his thighs, freeing his cock. He kicked them the rest of the way off and tore his shirt from his body in a fit of impatience. Big, lupine hands dug deep into the meat of the incubus’ ass. Golden blood welled up around his claws and dripped in thin rivulets down the smooth skin of his legs. Allius moaned quietly, shoving his face down into the floor. Luke bent his head back down to lick over his hole again, trying to pull more noises from the demon’s throat. The ring of muscle was already soft and opened to him readily, letting him stick his tongue inside. A particularly strong flick sent the incubus rocking back against him even more insistently. Whimpers were now spilling from his mouth in earnest as he brought one of his hands to rub against his cock through the thin panties.

Luke pulled back from Allius’ ass, licking his lips. A mix of spit and slick covered the bottom of his face and had begun to drip down onto his chest, wetting down his coarse hair. Allius looked back at him again, eyes blown out, and Luke couldn’t help but follow a drop of sweat that ran from his nape down the length of his spine. “Come on, puppy, please.” He was whining at this point, arching his back more, slick still dripping down his balls and thighs.

Biting down hard on his asscheek one last time, Luke lined up the head of his cock, flushed red and leaking pre-cum, with his entrance. “Ready?” He said, leaning over to kiss Allius’ shoulder gently.

Allius tried to buck his hips back onto Luke’s cock himself, but the vice-like grip on his hips kept him from doing much more than wriggling helplessly. “Just fuck me already!”

More golden blood was leaking from where Luke was holding him, more slick coming from his hole. In one swift movement, he plunged into Allius until his hips were sitting flush against his backside. The thrust drove the demon’s whole body forward, chest skidding along the floor. The low grunt that Luke let out was drowned out by Allius’ high-pitched whine.

He was already panting hard at the feeling of Allius’ tight walls around him. A sinuous black tail flicked anxiously as he once again tried to push back on the cock inside him. This wasn’t enough for either of them. Keeping one large hand on the demon’s hip and bracing the other against his back, Luke set a punishing pace into his boyfriend. Each thrust sent jolts through his body as he was driven further and further into the floor.

“AH...fuck!” Wanton sounds of pleasure spilled from Allius’ lips even from where his face was hidden in the crook of his elbow. He was humping back against each stroke, trying to get even more stimulation. His tail was going crazy, winding around the werewolf’s wrists, ankles; even batting frantically at his hip. It took an iron grip around the hand braced against his back. The long fingers and claws spanned nearly the entire width of his waist. Luke pressed his fingertips experimentally into the soft flesh of his demon. Five pinpricks of blood rose to the surface. “Oh, shit. Keep going!”

Luke hooked his claws into the flimsy fabric of the panties that Allius was still wearing. In one rough swipe, he shredded them and pulled the remains off of him, leaving the incubus naked. Resetting His grip on his hips, Luke sank all the way into him before pulling out, leaving only the head of his cock, and thrusting in again. Allius moaned once again, the noise sweet and high-pitched despite how muffled it was. Luke had a problem with this.

He sank his teeth into Allius’ shoulder, tasting the blood spill around them. “Stop fucking hiding. I want to hear you,” he snarled into Allius’ skin. Wrapping his arms firmly around the incubus’ waist and chest, he wrenched him upright onto his knees. “I want everyone to hear you.”

The possessive words made Allius tighten around him. “God, you’re in a mood today,” he choked out, struggling to maintain composure as Luke rammed into him. “So- ahh- territorial.”

Luke dug in everywhere he was holding Allius, leaving bite marks on his neck and deep scratches on his belly and ribs. “You knew this would happen,” he said with a particularly rough thrust. He began pulling Allius’ much smaller body back into him with each drive of his pelvis.

Each stroke was reaching impossibly deeper inside him, and he was slack-jawed and drooling with pleasure. His tail wrapped around one of Luke’s muscular thighs.

“Hnng- ah- ahh...fuck!” Allius’ cock hit his own abdomen with each drive of Luke’s hips, and it left smears of pre-cum on his smooth brown skin. He brought one hand down to harshly stroke his cock. “Of- ah! Of c-course I did . Why- oh- why do you think I look forward to this so much?”

A violent bolt of lust and affection lanced through Luke. He loosened the grip on Allius’ torso to take his nipples in his fingers. He rolled the nubs between his fingertips, tugging on the piercings but careful not to cut the delicate skin. “You’re perfect,” Luke groaned against his neck, “But you already knew I think that.” The sentence was punctuated by another drive of his hips that sent Allius’ back bowing away from him.

Allius cried out again, the noise desperate and closer to a shriek than a moan. His walls clenched around Luke’s cock. “Do that again, puppy.”

Luke obliged happily, grinding his hips up into his lover, trying to hit that spot again and again. Allius let his head drop back against Luke’s chest, long past trying to hide his sounds of pleasure. He kept stroking his cock but the pace was stuttering and unsteady because of Luke’s vicious thrusts. His walls were fluttering in pleasure, and Luke could feel his knot start to swell. It caught on Allius’ rim with every movement. He made to pull out, but Allius moved his strong tail to encircle Luke’s waist, keeping him from moving back any further. He was panting hard, back sweaty and sticking to the werewolf’s hairy chest. “Fucking knot me, dumbass!”

Now this was new territory. Luke had never knotted Allius during his cycle, always pulling out and cumming outside, or knotting one of his toys. His brain was too cloudy to question this change, though, and immediately thrust all the way back inside. He rolled his hips into Allius, trying to make the most of his limited mobility. Luke knocked aside the hand that Allius was still jerking off with and replaced it with one of his own. His hand was larger and rougher than Allius’ own, and in moments the demon was cumming. Pearly liquid, the same pinkish colour as his slick, shot out, hitting himself in the chin, dripping down his chest and over Luke’s fingers. The way his hole clenched around his cock sent Luke over the edge. After a few more harsh thrusts he sank in to the hilt, and held Allius tight against him as he spilled inside. They collapsed, still locked together by Luke’s knot.

Allius looked thoroughly wrecked. He was covered in cum and that demonic golden blood, his whole body damp with sweat, with slick still leaking down his inner thighs and saliva dripping from his open mouth. He had claw and bite marks all over him, and the possessive side of Luke was already beginning to lament them healing smooth. “Fuck, that was so good,” Allius breathed out, craning his neck painfully in order to kiss Luke’s chest.

“You’re telling me,” Luke replied. He knocked his nose into Allius’ hair, running his fingers through to cum streaking the demon’s torso. “I don’t know if either of us can keep that up for the next five goddamn days.”

“Speak for yourself, puppy. I’m going to expect this every time you fuck me again. I’ll probably never have to feed again”

Groaning, Luke laved his tongue over one of the big bite marks one Allius’ shoulder. They kissed lazily, almost sleepily, with Luke straying away from Allius’ mouth to lick up the cum that had caught on his chin. Allius dropped his head to the floor after a few minutes, watching with half-lidded eyes as Luke continued dragging his fingers through the cum on his torso, licking the sweet-salty seed from his hands.

“Luke, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” Luke rolled his hips into Allius once, both of them shivering with overstimulation. “It’s not like I can run away.”

Allius laughed once, breathless and joyful. He reached up to trace Luke’s hairline with soft fingers. “I…” He breathed in and out, clearly in an effort to centre himself. “I want to be your mate. Properly. If you’ll have me.”

Luke sat bolt upright as best he could while still being locked inside Allius. “You want to...pardon?”

“I know that it’s a big thing, and you’ll have to claim me as a human because if I’m in my true form the bite won’t hold. Also, I don’t know whether I would bite you too, or if we would form a pact, or…”

He was cut off by Luke locking his muscular arms around him in a bone-cracking hug. “Yes. Yes, of course I want to be your mate!” He attacked every available inch of Allius’ skin with kisses and nips. “Is that why you wanted me to knot you this time?” He asked after burying his nose into the velvet-soft skin behind Allius’ ear.

Allius nodded, wriggling further back into Luke’s warm arms. His tail wound affectionately around Luke’s ankle. “I don’t know why I’ve been avoiding it for so long. It’s not like I can get pregnant, and it feels so good. I feel so full.”

Luke groaned at the sound of that, gently headbutting Allius. “Don’t say that. I already want to fill you with my cum so bad, now I’m never going to want to stop fucking you.” He bit the demon’s ear with sharp teeth, hips bucking slightly. “And I know for a fact that I’m not willing to never let you top me again.”

“Ooh, so romantic,” Allius chuckled, “But no matter how nice that sounds, I want to go to sleep now. I’m tired.”

Luke nodded into the incubus’ nape, tucking them closer together and drifting off, surrounded by each other’s warmth.

#monster fucker #monster lover #exophilia #minors do not interact #smut #tw blood #but it's demon blood and isn't red #enthusiastic consent #terato #monster x monster #terfs dont fucking touch

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fixitfest · 4 years ago

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Anon Master List

TITLE: A Gift RATING: T WORD COUNT: 912 ADDITIONAL TAGS: Sirius Black Lives, Fix-It, References to Footloose (1984), Fluff, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Harry is only mentioned, he doesn't appear, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter), Canon Compliant, technically, Hopeful Ending SUMMARY: This was meant to be something very different but what it turned into was soft affection and movie night at 12 Grimmauld Place and learning each other again. READ IT ON AO3: A Gift

TITLE: the beauty of a secret (you have to keep it) RATING: G WORD COUNT: 14600 ADDITIONAL TAGS: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Slow Burn, Fluff and Angst, Remus's supportive parents, Christmas Fluff, THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED, this is really soft and so self-indulgent, First Kiss, Mutual Pining, POV Remus Lupin SUMMARY: When Remus asked Sirius to be his fake-date for them to visit his parents for the Christmas holidays, he hadn't expected it to go that well, not really. No one, least of all Remus could have predicted how rapidly it deteriorated, especially with his long hidden feelings that were too close to the surface. READ IT ON AO3: the beauty of a secret (you have to keep it)

TITLE: Be My Baby RATING: M WORD COUNT: 21876 ADDITIONAL TAGS: wolfstar, RS Fix It Fest 2020, Dirty Dancing AU, 1960s America, Coming of Age, Coming Out, Black!James, Cuban!Sirius, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Muggle, Fluff, Romance, Dancing, Summer Love, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, but both are pretty mild!, Meet-Cute, Getting Together, First Time, dance SUMMARY: It’s the summer of 1963, and 18 year old Remus Lupin discovers dance, love, and even himself. (A very romantic and very gay Dirty Dancing AU.) READ IT ON AO3: Be My Baby

TITLE: Good Year RATING: T WORD COUNT: 1024 ADDITIONAL TAGS: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Sirius Black Lives, Remus Lupin Lives, Professor Sirius Black, Professor Remus Lupin, Post-Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, middle-aged wolfstar, they’re alive and happy and they kiss and laugh a lot SUMMARY: Sirius and Remus one happy morning before the start of their first year of teaching at Hogwarts together. Set the year after the end of the Second Wizarding War. READ IT ON AO3: Good Year

TITLE: Hic sunt dracones RATING: E WORD COUNT: 4941 ADDITIONAL TAGS: Getting Together, Friends to Lovers, First War with Voldemort, Canon Compliant, Happy Ending, Romance, Makeup, Mirror Sex, Intercrural Sex, Sharing a Bed, RS Fix It Fest 2020, POV Remus Lupin SUMMARY: Remus and Sirius try putting on makeup and end up trying a lot more: sex, kissing, and maybe even talking about feelings. READ IT ON AO3: Hic sunt dracones

TITLE: In the Shadow of Your Heart, It's the Only Way I Can Escape RATING: M WORD COUNT: 10032 ADDITIONAL TAGS: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Alternate Universe - Muggle, Magicians, sort of a The Prestige au, POV Alternating, Non-Linear Narrative, POV Sirius Black, POV Remus Lupin, Rivals to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Sort Of, Strangers to Lovers, magician Sirius, Magician Remus, escape artist Remus, Non-Sexual Bondage, Remus is sort of based on Houdini, Buried Alive, Everybody Lives, Nobody is Dead, I promise nobody dies SUMMARY: The lights glittered upon the stage, dust particles floating, the light catching on the shiny buttons of the man’s jacket. The boards creaked as he strutted across them, a faint sound only heard if you were listening for it. The heavy velvet curtains hung on either side of the stage framing whatever spectacle was to occur. Or where two sort-of rival magicians perform on stage, confront mortality, and realize that past passion can be present love. READ IT ON AO3: In the Shadow of Your Heart, It’s the Only Way I Can Escape

TITLE: Just Sleep RATING: T WORD COUNT: 1403 ADDITIONAL TAGS: Raising Harry Potter SUMMARY: Remus didn't want to open the door but he almost closes it when he find Sirius back a kidnapped harry under his coat. READ IT ON AO3: Just Sleep

TITLE: La Vie en Rose RATING: G WORD COUNT: 1732 ADDITIONAL TAGS: Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Canon Compliant, Post-full moon, Pining, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Sirius Black Speaks French, Depressed Sirius Black, Song: La Vie En Rose, POV Sirius Black, Singing SUMMARY: "Remus was lying against him, fast asleep and very human. Sirius was struck with how much older he seemed, now that he was close enough for Sirius to study him. But he still looked as beautiful as ever." It is only Remus and Sirius left in Grimmauld Place after the children return to school. This alone time leaves Sirius facing feelings he buried a long time ago. READ IT ON AO3: La Vie en Rose

TITLE: night rides RATING: G ADDITIONAL TAGS: Art, Digital Art, Alternate Universe - High School, Motorcycles, Fluff SUMMARY: first time riding the motorcycle together READ IT ON AO3: night rides

TITLE: On how to become a DDA teacher RATING: G ADDITIONAL TAGS: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Everyone Is Alive, Living Together, Marauders, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Marauders Friendship (Harry Potter), Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, trying new things, Happy Ending, RS Fix It Fest 2020, Fanart, Fix-It SUMMARY: Remus prepares himself for his new position as Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Just some domestic bliss drawn for the RS Fix It Fest 2020. READ IT ON AO3: On how to become a DDA teacher

TITLE: On The Mat RATING: E WORD COUNT: 14265 ADDITIONAL TAGS: Meet-Cute, Getting Together, Yoga, Yoga Teacher Sirius Black, Yoga Student Remus Lupin, Dubious use of a yoga mat, Anal Sex, Rimming, Blow Jobs, Deep Throating, safe sex, we are pro condoms in this fic, Fluff and Smut, Top Sirius Black, Bottom Remus Lupin SUMMARY: The intimate happenings of Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, and a yoga mat. READ IT ON AO3: On The Mat

TITLE: The Pipe Under The Sink RATING: T WORD COUNT: 5253 ADDITIONAL TAGS: FixItFest2020, trying new things, wolfstar, unemployed!Sirius, bookshop!Remus, Baker!James, Alternate Universe - No Voldemort, muggle problems, Domestic Fluff, Baby Harry Potter, Self-Esteem Issues, Love SUMMARY: After being together for so long, Sirius worries Remus doesn't find him sexy anymore. Sirius finds some inspiration from James and decides to show off his sexiness by fixing the kitchen sink...the muggle way. READ IT ON AO3: The Pipe Under The Sink

TITLE: Quality Lighting RATING: T WORD COUNT: 4959 ADDITIONAL TAGS: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Magic, Alternate Universe - College/University, Erotic Photography, Get together fic, Happy Ending, POV Remus Lupin, POV Sirius Black SUMMARY: “Give it back!” Remus pitched forward in a desperate attempt to swipe his phone back from his roommate.

“Why?” Sirius asked with a laugh as he started to scroll. “Am I going to find your OnlyFans content or something?”

Remus choked out a laugh of his own. “Very funny. Now please—”

“Oh.” READ IT ON AO3: Quality Lighting

TITLE: We’re Not Like Them RATING: G WORD COUNT: 21574 ADDITIONAL TAGS: First War with Voldemort, Post-Hogwarts, Muggle London, London in the Eighties, Hyde Park, James Potter & Lily Evans Potter Live, Order of the Phoenix - Freeform, Angst, Marlene and Remus's friendship, Godric's Hollow, Character Study SUMMARY: Sirius leaves the flat for hours on end and doesn't tell Remus where he's been. Remus skulks silently in the shadows, forgotten by everyone he once called a friend, and secrets are being kept between the four of them. Remus doesn't even know if they will last the war, and Sirius decides that he wants a child. Remus thinks that they're twenty-one, fighting for their lives, and not like James and Lily. READ IT ON AO3: We’re Not Like Them

TITLE: The Words Beneath Your Door RATING: M WORD COUNT: 11723 ADDITIONAL TAGS: POV Remus Lupin, POV First Person, Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Getting Together, Roommates, Canon Divergence - Post-Hogwarts, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), First Kiss, Remus Lupin is a florid little shit, and Sirius reads Muggle encyclopedias for fun, gratuitous use of The Runaways, and cardamom biscuits, Fix-It, Domestic, and very very toshy, Implied/Referenced Drug Use SUMMARY:It is 1979, Remus is steadily losing control of his higher functions, and Sirius won't stop fucking touching him. Perhaps the two are related, but there isn't enough space left in the cold fusion core of Remus' brain to parse that out. READ IT ON AO3: The Words Beneath Your Door

TITLE: Young Hearts Intertwined RATING: T WORD COUNT: 11643 ADDITIONAL TAGS: Fix-It, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, First War with Voldemort, Fluff, Schmoop, Weddings, Established Relationship, Summer, Welsh Remus Lupin, Desi Potter Family (Harry Potter), Desi Sirius Black SUMMARY: There’s a special kind of magic to a wartime wedding. READ IT ON AO3: Young Hearts Intertwined

TITLE: You're My Lover, Not My Rival RATING: M WORD COUNT: 3734 ADDITIONAL TAGS: Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Friendship/Love, Best Friends, Getting Together, Casual Sex, Happy Sex, Threesome - F/M/M, Prophecy, Drinking & Talking, Smoking, Fix-It, RS Fix It Fest 2020, True Love, Canon Divergence, Bisexuality SUMMARY: Remus can't do relationships, or so he thinks. READ IT ON AO3: You’re My Lover, Not My Rival

#rs fixit fest 2020 #rs fixit fest #wolfstar fest #remus lupin #sirius black #mod post #master list #anonymous master list

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maladaptive-ninja-returns · 4 years ago

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Kira Vol 2 (2)

The Mistress

CHAPTER 2: You Were Found

Loki x fem!Reader (Kira)

Series: A new chapter begins in Kira’s life. Old secrets, new confessions, surprising allies and unexpected meetings. All of them have one name in common. Loki.

Chapter content: soft feels

Warnings: none

Word count: I’m feeling better today, enjoying the weather, shit scared of thunder and wanting sleep to come early so I don’t wake up in the noon like I did today

MASTERLIST & Taglist in bio, my love

If the air could spell out the emotions floating in this space, it would paint the molecules 'awkward'. But what is more fascinating to witness by anyone who would walk in on the scene is to point out to who is more uncomfortable than the others. You sit across your parents, busy helping serve breakfast around the table, your attention is mostly taken by your grandmother- who is more than delighted to be served fried bread, these little pieces of her favourite edible treasures of fried dough and a hot cup of tea to go with it all. Shireen and Ritviz, your younger sister and brother sit on the other end of the table together, watching you with their piercing gaze as you try to- almost- completely ignore this extraordinarily handsome man sitting right next to you. They dare not blink as this pale sculpted dude looks at the movements of your hands busy at work before landing his haze upon your face. "So-" Ritviz leans in towards Shireen, his eyes still not letting go of this guy who is stuck on his sister for some reason- "this is her boss?"

Shireen hums, narrowing her eyes towards the duo. Taking a cardamom stick from the table basket, she snaps it in half. "Ay, Kira. Give your boss some of that mint sauce you prepared last night." You turn to watch your sister nibble at the cardamom, trying your best to ignore the palpitations and nod with a smile. How does she always know? It is hard to know if the heat your feel at the nape of your neck and cheeks is visible to everyone sitting around you and even harder to let your excited brain find a switch to shut down the anxiety that your body feels on having all the people you love in one room. On the same table. "Have some of this," your mother brings forward an entire serving of her signature chillis fried and spiced in her signature chickpea dough recipe and asks Loki to help himself. "No!" You blurt out when Loki tries to go for them, moving them away to take charge of filling his plate up. "He can't eat chilli," you explain, gathering more judgment from your siblings, "it doesn't suit him." "Tsk. How have you been living with him till now?! You can barely survive without spicy food!" You and Loki turn your heads- quite in sync- to look at Shireen. "Shireen," mother uses her tone to make it known she is crossing some line. But she also makes sure to smile at her daughter's guest and serve him some piping hot tea. "Don't mind her. I dropped her on the floor when she was a baby," you whisper to Loki. Loki blinks and quietly chuckles before turning back to look at Shireen. "We have a cook back home. She makes sure Kira gets everything she wants and needs." There is a gasp forming in Ritviz's lungs right now as he bites into the fried cheese. 'We'? 'Back home'? This dude already planned their retirement?? "So, Loki..." Now all three children turn to look at their mother, knowing full well where this is going the moment she addresses your boss so casually. "Do you have any siblings?" Ritviz facepalms himself harder than anticipated. Shireen grabs a chilli and stuffs it in her mother's mouth while you try to keep a straight face through the embarrassment your family is making you feel. Well, your dad and grandma are an exception because they are more interested in the food. "She doesn't have any idea about what's going on around the world. So..." You trial off with apology bursting through your y/e/c eyes. Your siblings look at your mother with daggers in their eyes, knowing full well she has consumed the Odin family history through the news like an addict ever since you got the job at Sun Corp. More so when you came back home. Your mom can feel their stares. But she too takes her time to look at them and go 'what' like it's a big deal. "Meet me outside after breakfast and I'll tell you 'what'," Shireen threatens her. Loki simply shrugs. "It's fine. I have a brother. He is back in Asgard looking after his father's empire. We don't meet each other much. Mostly because of our work." It is both relieving and painful to watch Loki sail on those words so smoothly and end them with a genuine smile. "These are delicious, by the way," he adds and you have to wonder about a thousand things about your boss in one go. Your mother is won over by that compliment but that does not stop her from prying more into your boss' life. "The business must be going well then?" Loki nods in respect. "We have been going stable. So, that is a plus after the slump the market was facing." "Okay, no business talk on the table," you remind everyone before pouring some soda for you, your grandma and Loki. "The food still might feel spicy. Have the soda first and tea later." Loki pauses between bites and lets that sweet command swirl inside him, his bones feeling alive after so long on hearing that voice talk to him this way. "Yes, ma'am," he replies softly, and you have to hide the flush on your face and the smile on your lips behind your hands. "What happened?" your grandma asks you out of the blue, her strong sixth sense already catching the flutter in your gut. You shake your head and bribe her with the soda. Her focus is redirected instantly, but that does not mean she stops observing you through this heavenly meal. "Why didn't you get married yet?" your mother throws the question out of nowhere, making some people choke on their drink, others groan, and one snicker. "Okay, that's it," you announce, "he's staying at the hotel. Loki, you're staying at the hotel." Your mother's wide eyes look at the usual judgment of the siblings falling upon her. "What? I'm just asking this handsome man about-" "You cannot ask him that, ma," you and Ritvik groan, Shireen tsks and rolls her eyes. Loki, watching this unfold simply smirks at this pure delight he feels sitting in the midst of this family. You get up and go to the kitchen to get some more sauces for the table, all the while glaring at your mother- who chooses to not notice. The fried dough smells and tastes heavenly even though it is one heavy portion for him. Worth it, he shrugs internally and goes for another bite. His right wrist feels a tug and he witnesses the frail wrinkled hand shaking a little before pointing him to the soda bottle in front of him. "Have some sprite," your grandmother urges Loki with a smile in her eyes. Loki feels a tug on the string of his hearts. Those eyes are a mix of green, brown, grey and every mystic power of nature that can be held in the iris of a wise person. That withered face shines bright with plump cheeks and transparent emotions. "I'm...uh...I'm good, Mrs Kane, thank you," Loki reciprocates the smile, "I still have some left in my glass." Grandma nods and pushes her own glass forward. "Then pour me some, will you?" Loki cannot help but chuckle, complying with the orders straight away. "So-" your mother's voice breaks through the soothing air over the table just as you come out of the kitchen- "how much do you earn?" And you walk right back into it.

"Pretty cringy breakfast downstairs." Moving away from the view of the mountains in the near distance, Loki sees Ritvik stand by the rooftop door with a box in his hand. He can see Shireen stand behind him, bluffing disinterest as she pushes his brother away to walk towards the wires and hang the washed laundry to dry under the oddly hot December sun. "Isn't that how families usually are?" Loki smiles in his direction. Ritviz joins the man by the railings, looking at the mountains covered in thick clouds before paying attention to the maroon sweater Loki wears with his midnight blue jeans. The boy cannot help but appreciate the wide knit patterns adorn that white skin with apt beauty. "Nice sweater," he points before turning around to sit down on the platform. "Thanks, it w-" something stops Loki mid-sentence when he remembers the day he found it waiting in his bedroom- "it was a gift." Ritviz hums and smirks. "Good taste," he mutters. Shireen's eyes have been stuck on these two, reading their every word as every fabric getting in her hands is tortured with a sudden flick. "Is she a good assistant? My sister?" the brother asks. Is...that a trick question? Loki blinks at the mountains before smiling at the boy. "The best one I could ask for." A nod of agreement comes from the brother while the sister stands there giving more frustrated flicks to the sweaters. "Cool. Cool cool cool cool. So...she must keep up with whatever it is she's supposed to do." Oh for fucks sake. Shireen groans out loud. "Just ask him already dammit!" Both men turn towards Shireen. One looks at her in confusion while the other widens his eyes in caution at her, shaking his head as discreetly as possible. "Ask...ask me what?" "Nothin-" "How did Kira get hurt?" A crow yells whilst sitting on the top of the malacca as if laughing at the entire situation. Ritviz scratches some itch at the back of his neck while sighing in defeat. "You are supposed to go easy with the questions, Rin. This guy is the reason Kira has a job." "Oh, shut it, Ritz," she scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest, "it's not like he's doing her a favour. She has earned her place, okay? And she got wounded under his care!" Loki can see the scrunched up nose and brows carry on them a rage held in for far too long. Even though those grey eyes have nothing but animosity in them for him, he feels a certain elation on seeing them stand in defence for her sister. "Oi!" RItz is about to yell at Rin but Loki cuts him on the way. "She was in an accident." The chilly breeze takes the words and swirls them around the audience. "The car she was travelling in met with a serious accident. Three of my men died that night. One survived long enough to make sure Kira was all right." The crisp heat of the sun feels warm instead of scorching. Those fine lines on Rin's forehead fade just a little; partially because of hearing those words straight from the lion's mouth, partially because the guilt is transparent to a fault in those smaragdines that shimmer more than they normally should. "I was supposed to be with her that night. I promised to take her home, safe and sound. And I regret every second of not keeping my promise, I assure you that. If there was a way to repent for being careless with Kira's life, I would gladly give myself up for it." The silence that erodes the rooftop brings a lightness to it. Rin sighs and crosses her arms while Ritz cannot bring himself to look at Loki- who is patiently waiting for a word. "Kira told us there were bad guys involved," Rin mutters while letting her fingers play with the wool of her white sweater, "and by us, I mean me and Ritz. Mom and dad have no idea about this. They still think she fell from the stairs." Loki nods. "Did they try to hurt her because of...you?" Ritz cannot help but ask. The weight that has begun to make home over his chest returns after what seems like a while. That uneasy feeling of something scratching over his heart makes him uncomfortable. "I'm sorry, that is not what I meant," Ritz scrunches his face in an apology, "not that she was hurt because of you. What I meant was-" "Yes. I was the reason." "Bullshit!" Rin scoffs and laughs. That...was unexpected. "I'm pretty sure she did something to piss them off. She's done it before and she will def-fucking-nately do it again." Rin is not wrong. And the strong edge in her voice tells him she knows her sister well enough. "What I care about is that now that she works for you, she will be fighting a fight that isn't hers. And, God forbid, if something happens to-" "I won't let it," Loki is already marking down a vow, "I have witnessed it once and I am not going to let anything or anyone make her go through it again." "But you cannot promise me that she won't go looking for danger, can you?" The lift of her brow makes Loki recall why he fell for Kira. "Agreed. I cannot do that. But whatever she brings home with her, I am willing to clean the mess." "You-" Rin has to literally grit her teeth before she can find herself pouring down fire over the man who talks about her sister like... The embers burning inside her bring blood to the surface under her teeth. Of all the goddamn people in this world. She looks at those green eyes shining under the soothing rays; translucent to a fault, standing bare. "Rin," Ritz quietly urges, trying to take her by the arm. "She will get hurt again, won't she?" Ritz stands there, feeling as significant as the wind meddling with the two people standing opposite each other defending their love for the same person again and again. And if they could, they would do it endlessly. "She does not back down from a fair fight," Loki addresses something all three of them already know. "That fight is always to save someone else," Rin adds, never blinking. "One more reason for me to carefully choose my enemies," Loki concludes, never wavering his gaze. A sigh leaves Rin's lungs and she feels her watery eyes closing with a pinch of pain in the eyelids. "The audacity of this bitch," she mutters and walks away, kicking the lone brick in her path that was used to keep the blankets holding drying chilli in place. "Please don't hate her," Ritz presses, sighing at the sight of his sister stomping down the stairs, "she is mad because she does not yet know how to process the emotion of envying you." Loki's brows furrow. And Ritviz can see the question incepting from miles away, making him chuckle and scratch an itch at the back of his head. "Kira stopped singing two years ago," he began, having Loki's full attention at the mention of the name, "all the weird songs and lyrics, all the wacky sound effects and humming disappeared when she fell ill. Of course, to the world, she was suffering from insomnia. But there was so much more. We were worried it would get worse when she left for the cyber city. So easy to get lost there, you know. I knew she cried every night even though she did not say. She always called mom in the morning when she had the energy for another day. I even thought of bringing her back home one day and right that morning she called us to tell us she had landed a job in your company. And her call times got more erratic. But her voice grew stronger. I don't know if it was because of the work or people around her, but she seemed to be better. That was one hope for us till we heard about the accident from you. That must have been hard for you, man. Telling us about her? And at the same time having to tell us to not meet her because of security reasons or whatever was going on? The day she told us she was coming back we thought that was it. That she was done. That she was coming home, done with the world and stuff. The first day she came back home, she was humming." Loki blinks, feeling an old string strike. "She-" Ritz chuckles at his own disbelief- "was covered in bruises and bandages and she was humming. She narrated incidents like she had come back from some great adventure and she talked like could not wait to go back. And the last time I saw her eyes sparkle like that, Loki, was when she had created art. And that was ages ago." Words do not even dare to come up from that lumpy throat. And even though he has no idea, Ritz can only imagine what Loki must be feeling right now. "So, please don't mind if my sister envies the fact that you were able to do something she could not figure out for Kira before. She fears Kira might have experienced a high that might be too dangerous for her. I'm not saying that I completely agree with her, but she might not be completely wrong." Loki exhales, feeling a load leave him as he moves his hand through his hair. "And I'm sure you'll do what's best," Ritz shrugs and smirks, casually pointing at Loki's sweater, "I mean, she doesn't give the best gifts to just anyone." Loki looks down at his sweater and has to take some time to find in himself to chuckle through the smooth roller coaster he was sent on. "Here." He watches Ritz bring forward the box he has been carrying for a while now. "Happy birthday. From me and Rin." There is a pause in every moment in his body. Even on an extraordinary day, it would be unexpected, but this man had stopped keeping expectations from the world a long time ago. No wonder then, that this gesture hits hard right in the chest, squeezing that heart to bring up some buried or burned scripts of having the chance of making new friends and family. It is a melody- on a piano sitting at the edge of a hill, a harp standing by the edge of the sea or a cello right in the middle of a wheat field- slowly but surely engulfing him with a different warmth that he is currently too slow to figure out. The undone ribbon lies on the cemented floor underneath him. The lid hangs in his hand as the ceramic reflects the light in his eyes while he looks with a mixture of confusion and surprise. The polished piece of mug is picked up to watch the animated caricature of two really proud beings leaning next to the words in the middle. One he recognises immediately. He can never miss those golden eyes and that lited brow with a knowing smile. The other? He has a hard time breathing it in because it only ends up making him laugh. The green eyes with the smug look and red sweater with black pants against the pale skin are giving him goosebumps. 'Father of a Big, Bad Wolf' it says.

For a second you feel like he hasn't heard you walk up to him. You are about to call out his name when a thought slides in from that on itching corner of your mind and tells you to pause and breathe in this picture. Loki, the man responsible for an empire that is both feared and respected today; the man with mysteries surrounding him in as dense clouds as the men and women who have fallen for his shadowed personality. The man who can run the world but right now stands on your rooftop with dewy eyes looking at the mug your brother made for him. The man who smiles the best smile when the world isn't looking. The man you have fallen for. Hard. It is a treat to witness this soft moment and it almost stings a little when he raises his head to let his gaze fall on your face. But more than that sting, it burns so well when his pupils dilate and his face glows on sensing your presence. "Do you like your birthday present?" you have to ask. And you cannot undo this big smile that is stuck on your face today. "Like would be an understatement, darling," he mentions while carefully putting the mug back into the box. Darling. The word still holds the power to send a delicious buzz down to your core. More so when he breathes such magic into it. "Oh," you nod and pretend to question, "then I wonder what will happen when you find out the rest of them today." Those fine lines on his forehead appear for second before excitement mixed with disbelief washes them away. "What?" He is barely able to whisper through the rush that is making his skin flush. And you are loving every second of it. "Happy birthday, Mr Loki, sir," you coo sweetly, licking your lips and taking a step closer to him, "let's not waste our time. We have a lot to do in these eighteen hours." And in this very second, he is certain of one thing when he looks at you. He would make sacred grounds in your name, kiss the dirt you walked in and teach the world what love is by painting a picture of you. He will protect that smile with his life and do everything in his power to make the world safer just for you. "Oh, and for your first surprise," you mention with a skip and jump in your step- something he is witnessing for the first time and loving every part of it- "my grandma seems to like you now." He chuckles with a smile so wide that makes you giggle at the adorableness. "That's good to he-wait. What do you mean now?" But you are already turning the corner to walk downstairs, humming a tune. "Kira, what-Kira! What do you mean now?"

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exit-goat · 4 years ago

Text

Between Friends

To say, “you met me at a very strange time in my life,” would be an understatement for Fiona and Charlie. Fiona’s life had come crashing to a halt, and Charlie, well his just got turned upside down. They’re lost, looking for someone to anchor them down, to keep them afloat. Will they help guide one another out of the wreckage or lose even more along the way? Only time will tell.

Chapter 1: Perfect Strangers (x)

Chapter 2: Penny for your Thoughts

CW: tipsy!Charlie, drinking, lingering glances, angst, mentions of cancer, mentions of parental death, mentions of divorce, lingering touch, dialogue heavy, mature language, the very briefest mentions of pussy eating/blowjobs/sex

Word Count: 7k what can I say this chapter kinda got away from me

AN: this chapter is a doozy, very plot heavy and dialogue heavy. This fic is going to be a sloooow burn so bare with me lol. I really want to establish back story and set the scene first before launching into the NSFW content (there will be smut in this fic, promise) Any and all comments/questions are always appreciated! Let me know if you want to be on the tag list and I’ll happily add you!

***

Charlie turned toward Fiona, the familiar sound of his name being called pulling him out of his introspective daze. He met Fiona's eyes with a confused look.

From this close, Fiona could see each and every freckle scattered across his face. She also noticed the slight signs of ageing. Shallow creases were present at the outer corners of his eyes, across his forehead and around his mouth.

They added to his appearance, made him look more mature and dignified. It was a stark contrast to the fresh-faced image of a young Charlie that stuck out in Fiona's memory.

"Yes, can I help you?"

The deep baritone of Charlie's voice snapped her out of her thoughts. A slight blush crept across her cheeks as her eyes met his. His face was no longer contorted by stress, but there was still an intensity behind his eyes. It sent a shiver up her spine.

"I knew it was you, Charlie. You always did stick out from those around you, huh?"

Fiona joked lightly, seeing if he would work out who was standing in front of him. Growing up in Indiana, she would joke about how Charlie was a beacon in a crowd of people. No matter where he went, he was always at least a head taller than those around him.

Charlie, however, looked more confused than ever. He tilted his head slightly to one side, his eyes skating over Fiona's features.

"I'm sorry, do we know each other? I don't mean to be rude, but-"

"Oh, don't tell me you don't recognize me." Fiona interrupted him, "I know a decade is a long time, but I don't think I've changed that much." She flashed him a knowing grin, then looked at herself in the mirrored wall behind the bar.

She had changed a bit over the years. Living in California, where it was summer all year round, gave her once pale skin a beautiful, healthy glow to it. Her hair had lightened naturally, from dark chestnut mahogany to a lighter auburn colour from the years spent under the sun.

Her facial structure was more poignant. Most of her baby fat had gone away with age, leaving her with a sharp jawline and noticeable cheekbones.

But, besides these little details, Fiona thought she pretty much looked the same. Maybe she was a bit weathered from the stress of life, but she still saw the same young girl from Indiana looking back at her in the mirror.

She turned her attention back to Charlie, who was looking her over again. His face etched in focus as he studied her, trying to match the face he saw now with ones from his memories.

She was definitely familiar to him. There was something about the way she spoke to him like an old friend. When she smiled wide, a dimple at her chin appeared, causing a crease to form at the end of her laugh line.

Yes, she was definitely familiar to Charlie, but he couldn't quite place where he knew her.

It took him a moment longer, his mind lingering on whatever was bothering him before Fiona approached. But, when his gaze met Fiona's once more, realization washed over his face.

"Fiona Webster." He spoke with disbelief, searching her eyes to make sure he wasn't mistaken.

When Fiona smiled wide at his recollection, Charlie stood from his seat and embraced her in a hug.

That smile brought Charlie right back to his high school days. Memories of lunch breaks spent in the drama room, meeting up in the morning to walk to school, and walking home together flooded Charlie's mind.

His body engulfing her with warmth and familiarity. She reached up and wrapped her arms around Charlie's neck. The smell of his cologne, sandalwood and citrus with a hint of some kind of warm spice (star anise or cardamom maybe??) wafted off his shirt as she let her head rest on his shoulder for a second.

Charlie tightened his grip around Fiona's waist briefly before pulling away. He honestly could not believe that she was here, in this hotel of all places.

When Charlie stood to his full height, Fiona noted that her earlier observations had been spot on. Charlie had filled out his frame. His arms were thicker and more muscular, his shoulders were broader and his chest… it was more substantial, but in all the right ways.

Fiona remembered how boney Charlie used to be, but now, his chest and abdomen had a healthy weight packed on them. To put it frankly, Charlie was huge. He was truly a brick wall of a man.

"You cut your hair…" Charlie said absentmindedly. Fiona was sure he didn't mean to say that out loud.

"A few times since you last saw me, yeah." Fiona chuckled, beaming up at him with a playful smile.

She instinctively tucked the loose strands of hair that fell around her face behind her ears. Charlie let out a nervous laugh before moving to sit back down. Fiona followed and sat down on the stool next to him.

"I just meant that it's shorter than I remember." Charlie felt heat rise to his cheeks as he faced forward. He definitely hadn't meant to say that out loud.

There was a brief silence as the pair took a sip of their drinks. Charlie started fiddling with the label on his beer bottle again, not knowing what to say next.

"I hear congratulations are in order."

Fiona mused, stealing a sideways glance at Charlie. He let out a curious 'hmm?', turning his head to face Fiona.

"Your theatre! I've heard rave reviews about it over the years, Charlie, you're a great success!"

Charlie smiled bashfully, the tops of his cheeks turned a lovely shade of pink at Fiona's kind words. He turned away from her, without a word, and took a swig from his beer.

"Oh, don't be so modest, Barber." Fiona teased, "I know you must be proud of the work you've done, the shows you've directed."

"It's a group effort, really." Charlie shrugged.

Fiona scoffed playfully, shaking her head with a smile playing at her lips. Always so humble, she thought to herself. Charlie was never one to hog the spotlight. He always made sure that everyone felt included and celebrated. She was glad to see that he hadn't changed.

"It is! I wouldn't be where I am today without the amazing work and attitude of the cast and crew." Charlie defended, smiling at Fiona.

He paused, taking another sip from his drink.

"Everyone puts a lot of effort into every production. They do amazing work, really."

"So what is the great Charlie Barber doing in Los Angeles, hm? Scouting new talent? Opening a new theatre? Expanding your empire?"

Charle smiled lightly at the goofiness and grandeur of Fiona's questions, but it didn't reach his eyes. That same intensity that Fiona had seen before had returned.

"It's… complicated," Charlie mumbled while signalling to the bartender for another round, "I don't want to bore you with the details."

A quiet lull swept over them, neither of them speaking. They sat together, idly sipping at their drinks. Fiona was trying to find a way to bring up whatever was plaguing Charlie without seeming intrusive or coming across as pushy.

It had been ten years, and Charlie had no reason to divulge his personal life to her. They had been friends for a long time, though, and Fiona couldn't help the concern she felt for him.

After all, they had been with each other during the roughest times of their youth. That would always mean something to Fiona. No amount of time or distance would diminish that.

"How have you been? L.A treating you well?"

Charlie's voice broke the silence causing Fiona's head to turn. She had been so wrapped up in thought that she nearly forgot he was still sitting there.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah, L.A has actually turned out to be better than I thought it would be." She smiled fondly, thinking about all the memories she's made in this sunny city.

"And while I'm no star-studded director like yourself -" she teased, nudging Charlie's shoulder with her own, "- life has been kind to me."

"Oh yeah?" Charlie nudged Fiona back, a broad grin on his face. "That's good, I'm glad to hear it."

He looked quite sincere then like he genuinely meant what he said, like the words spoken were not from a place of kind pleasantries but from a place of truth. Fiona mumbled a quiet 'thank you' turning away as she felt a slight blush creep across her cheeks.

"Did you ever go back to school? After you left New York? I remember how devastated you were when you had to leave."

Fiona shifted in her seat. The memory of university and New York made her heart ache. She let out a nervous breath, tucking her hair behind her ears.

"No, I uh, I never continued school over here." She fiddled with the straw in her drink while she spoke, not looking at Charlie.

"It's not that I never wanted to go back to school because I did, and I still do! I just… there was just never a good time to go back, you know?"

Fiona looked over to Charlie, who nodded in agreement, before continuing.

"And between taking care of my mum and work, and just life in general, I wouldn't have been able to even find the time to attend classes, study and do homework and…"

Fiona trailed off, realizing that she had started rambling. Whenever school and university was brought up, Fiona had a tendency to get defensive.

It probably stemmed from her guilt of having to leave school in the first place. She really had no reason, though, to get defensive. She left school for admiral reason, to fulfill her familial duty.

She was so excited. Attending NYU had always been a dream of hers, one she and Charlie talked in-depth about during their high school days. Fiona loved New York, loved the bustling crowds and the sounds of heavy traffic.

She graduated high school a year after Charlie did. When she finally got to the city, Charlie was her personal tour guide. He took her to all his favourite places around the city.

Her first year of university was everything thing she hoped it would be, and more. She had met some fantastic people and learned so many new things. She quickly fell in love with New York and all it had to offer, but unfortunately, life had other plans for her.

About halfway through her second year of school, Fiona's mum got really sick. With her dad out of the picture, it fell on Fiona to be the one to take care of her mum to make sure she wasn't alone.

Fiona left New York with a heavy heart. All of the possibilities of her future and the beginnings of the life she was building for herself faded quickly in the rearview mirror as she taxied to the airport.

Fiona sighed to herself, stealing a glance at Charlie.

"Hey, I totally get it. Life loves to throw curveballs." He gave her an understanding smile. "How is your mum, by the way?"

Fiona chewed the inside of her bottom lip. She knew this would come up, knew Charlie would ask about her at some point.

While Fiona had made peace with her mum's death during the many rounds of chemotherapy, it was hard to talk about.

"She uh… Actually, she passed away a couple of weeks ago."

Charlie reached over, placing a hand on Fiona's back and soothingly rubbed circles between her shoulder blades.

"I'm sorry to hear that." He spoke softly, then, his gaze turned downward. He hadn't seen Ms. Webster in a long time, something he now wished he could apologize for. He never meant for so much time to pass without reaching out.

"She was always very kind to me, something I'll always be grateful for. Honestly, I don't think I would've made it through high school if it weren't for your mum taking me in, letting me sleep in the guest room when things got bad at home… she was an amazing person, Fiona."

"Yeah, she was." Fiona smiled meekly at Charlie before turning away.

She could feel tears start to form and collect at her eyes' waterline, threatening to spill over. She directed her gaze up at the ceiling, blinking rapidly, willing the tears to go away.

This is not the time or the place she thought to herself, as Charlie continued to trace soft circles across the expanse of her back. Fiona cleared her throat before speaking again.

"Yeah, my mum loved you, considered you to be one of her own. She would always say that she'd just pack up your things one day and steal you away to come live with us."

"That sounds like her." Charlie chuckled while Fiona's face broke out in a grin.

"I think she may have even looked into ways she could adopt you."

The pair giggled some more and continued to reminisce about their shared teenage years. The topic changed to their time in high school, how they would spend lunch breaks in the drama room and the many many misadventures of their science teacher Mrs. Horowitz, who always managed to set something on fire during lab days.

They recounted the many late-night movie marathons they would have whenever Charlie stayed over on weekends. How they would morph into sincere heart to hearts out in the backyard, under the night sky.

Fiona and Charlie quickly fell into a rhythm as their conversation continued on into the late-night hours. There were no more awkward silences or weird disjointed topic changes.

Talking with Charlie felt effortless, Fiona noticed. She hadn't realized how much she missed him before now. Sure, she thought about him in passing from time to time, but her thoughts never dwelled on him or the past for too long.

The drinks continued to flow along with their conversation. Fiona was currently working on her third vodka tonic of the night, and Charlie was halfway through his sixth beer. Fiona was definitely feeling a little buzzed at this point, and she was sure that Charlie was, at the very least, a little tipsy.

You wouldn't know it just by looking at him, but Charlie was a lightweight. He always had been. The sheer size and magnitude of his body would have most people convinced that Charlie could handle himself, but Fiona knew better.

If past experience wasn't enough to be sure of his drunkenness, his demeanour gave his definitely gave it away. During one of Charlie's stories about his son, Henry, he had unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt, exposing his white undershirt.

Fiona's musings, and Charlie's story, were interrupted by the sound of Fiona's ringtone.

"Shit, sorry," she mumbled to him, fishing into her pants' back pocket for her phone.

When she pulled it out, she saw the name DANIEL WEBSTER flash at the top. Her brows furrowed, and a huff of air involuntarily escaped from between her lips.

"Do you need to get that?" Charlie inquired, stealing a quick glance over Fiona's shoulder.

"Hmm? Oh, no ", she turned the ringer off and set the phone down on the bar before turning her attention back to Charlie, "it's not important."

"I take it you and Dan still aren't on good terms, huh?"

Fiona scoffed and shrugged her shoulders, "I honestly don't think my brother and I have ever been on good terms."

Charlie's eyebrow quirked up, and he let out an amused hum. There was an alcohol-induced grin playing at his lips as he faced forward to sip his drink.

He silently agreed with Fiona, thinking back to the few times he interacted with Dan. Charlie remembered how, no matter what the situation was or the topic of conversation, Fiona and her brother were always on opposing sides.

It's now, or never Fiona thought to herself, taking in Charlie's appearance.

He looked relaxed for the first time since Fiona had sat down. His elbow rested on the polished wood bar top, and his head was propped up by the palm of his hand.

She'd only have one chance to bring up whatever was troubling her estranged friend, and it had to be now as they both let a comfortable silence sweep over them.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Fiona asked while leaning on the bar, mimicking Charlie's position.

Charlie's eyes flicked toward Fiona, the grin still present on his face. He let out a light chuckle as he replied, "what?"

"I can tell… or at least it seems like something's bugging you." Fiona paused, searching Charlie's features.

"Or at least that something is weighing on your mind. I could tell from the other side of the bar."

Charlie stayed silent, watching Fiona closely. The intensity returned to his eyes, and it was too much to bear. Fiona adverted her gaze to her free hand, as her fingers traced along the ridges and grooves on the bar top.

"Obviously, you don't have to tell me. I mean, we're practically strangers, but -"

"We're not really strangers, though, Fiona. Never were." Charlie interjected, causing Fiona to tear her focus from her fingers' movements to look up at him.

"Right," she said, holding eye contact with him before dropping her gaze back down.

"Well, either way, I guess… I just, I thought that maybe you'd want to talk about it with an unbiased third party, you know? Maybe I could offer some insight, or even just be a pair of ears who'll listen without judgement."

Fiona shrugged her shoulders, not daring to look up at Charlie. She was worried she stepped over a line, crossed some boundary of Charlie's without realizing.

On the other hand, Charlie was surprised and touched that she wanted to help him, even after all this time. It caught him off guard a little bit, to know that Fiona could still read his body language. It was as if the past ten years had never gone by. As if they hadn't fallen out of touch.

"You're right…," Charlie sighed.

Fiona glanced up at him then, her eyes studying his face. She stayed silent as she leaned off the bar, straightening out her posture, waiting for Charlie to continue.

"Can you keep this just between us?" Charlie knew that is was foolish to ask such a thing. He knew even before the question had left his lips, but he had to ask, just to be safe.

He knew that whatever he told Fiona, she would keep it to her self. She had proven that a thousand times over in the years they had known one another.

"Who am I going to tell?" Fiona teased lightly because, really, who was she going to tell? Her only confidant was her mum, and it wasn't like she and Charlie shared many mutual friends.

Charlie held her gaze; each muscle in his face was set and rigid. The stern look he gave her caused Fiona's smile to drop a little. She gave a curt nod and said,

"Just between us."

Charlie relaxed a little, letting out a deep breath. He sat up a little straighter and ran a hand through his hair.

"Nicole, my wife, is here in L.A for a new project she's working on, and she brought Henry down with her a couple of days ago."

Charlie paused for a second, his fingers absentmindedly twisting his wedding band around his ring finger.

"I got in today, and I thought that we'd have some family time, see Nicole's family who lives down here, and just have a nice mini-vacation before I have to go back to New York."

Fiona nodded her head, listening intently and watching Charlie closely. He was starting to tense up again. His shoulders were pinched up together, and his brow was furrowed as he recounted the events that took place earlier in his day.

"Anyway, I finally get to the house after being stuck on a plane for five hours. I'm not even in the house for more than 10 minutes when I'm served with fucking divorce papers, by my own sister in law!"

Charlie let out a huff of air, wringing his hands together.

"Shit, I'm sorry, Charlie." Fiona tried to console him, reaching over to rub circles on his back.

The corner's of Charlie's mouth quirked up the tiniest bit at the returned gesture. He gave Fiona a small smile while trying to get his breathing to return back to normal.

He hadn't meant to get so worked up about this, and he conceded that Fiona was right; he did need to talk about it. If he didn't, he would just bottle it all up to fly off the handle at some unsuspecting person later on down the road.

"No, don't be sorry. This has been a long time coming, actually, something we were already in the processes of doing."

Fiona nodded.

"The thing that really gets me is that we both agreed, at the start of all this -" Charlie gestured in the hair with his hands, "- to not get lawyers involved. We agreed that we'd use mediators and figure it out ourselves… peacefully, amicably."

"Mm, divorce can be tricky like that," Fiona spoke softly as she continued to rub circles on Charlie's back at a slow, but steady, pace.

"You say that like you speak from experience." Charlie looked up at Fiona, who offered him a small consoling smile.

Her eyes held a touch of sadness to them, and what Charlie thought to be guilt.

"Were you married?"

The hand on Charlie's back stilled for a moment as Fiona's gaze drifted around the room before meeting Charlie's once more.

"I was, yeah. But, uh, not for very long."

Charlie's eyebrows shot up at her confession, "You were married? Really?"

Fiona nodded her head.

"I thought you always said that you weren't the marrying type."

"I'm not. My marriage proved that." Fiona let out a small chuckle, shaking her head at Charlie.

Her hand left Charlie's back to push her hair back behind her ears.

"How long were you married?"

"Just a year. I couldn't let it go on past that, it wouldn't have been fair."

She cast her eyes downward, settling on studying the stripes on Charlie's button-up instead of looking him in the eye.

"When did you realize…" Charlie trailed off, not knowing how to phrase the question.

Fiona understood, though, what Charlie was getting at. "When did I realize that I didn't want to be married anymore?" She offered.

"Honestly, the moment he proposed, and the moment I said yes, was the moment I realized."

There was a brief pause, and then Fiona continued, "And before you say anything, I tried really hard to make it work. Joseph, Joe, was such a sweet guy. He was always so patient and understanding with me. Not to mention he was a dream when it came to stuff with my mum, and I really did love him. It's just…"

She trailed off, looking up at Charlie again. He was studying her, looking at her so intently and focused. There wasn't any hint of contempt or disgust in his eyes, like she had anticipated, so she continued.

"I never felt like a… like a bride. I didn't get any butterflies when trying on dresses or arranging things like the floral centrepieces or the napkins' colour. I didn't get nervous the night before or when I was walking down the aisle. And I know I shouldn't have gone through with the wedding, let alone stay married for a year."

Fiona sighed, "I just desperately wanted to make it work, for Joe and for me. It's just not who I am, you know?"

Charlie nodded, "You can't force these types of things."

"Anyway, to make a long story short, I told Joe, and he did not take it well. He filed for divorce, and we had a long and lengthy battle over our mutual assets and who gets what. In the end, he got most of it. Which was fine with me because I effectively wasted a whole year of his life. He deserved more anyway."

"Long and lengthy, huh?" Charlie's voice cut through the thick fog of shameful memories that clouded Fiona's mind.

"Yeah, but I'm sure yours won't be like that! Your divorce will probably just fly right by, quick and easy."

Charlie's face broke out in a wide toothy grin. It was just so absurd, describing divorce as 'quick and easy.' He couldn't help the giggles that escaped him.

"Here's hoping," He said, raising his beer bottle to Fiona, who, in turn, raised her glass.

"So, do you have any advice for me? Having been through this yourself."

"I guess I would tell you to try not to escalate things, learn when and what to concede on."

Fiona shrugged her shoulder, "I don't know, just try to remember that regardless of how it plays out and who gets what, that you and Nicole were once in love. Remember that your relationship wasn't always where it is now."

Charlie sat silently for a while, mulling over Fiona's words. While he had heard them many times before, from marriage counsellors, mediators, friends, and family members, it sounded more convincing when Fiona said it.

Maybe it was because she had been through it herself. Or perhaps it was because Fiona had this convincing way about her. She could get anyone to believe that the sky was actually green just by stating it matter-of-factly. Whatever the reason, Charlie made a point to commit her words to memory.

The silence between them was broken by a loud and amused snicker from Fiona.

"God, when did we get so old!" She exclaimed with a shake of her head and a broad smile playing at her lips, "I mean, the last thing I ever thought we'd talk about is divorce, and yet…"

It was just so absurd to Fiona. She was sitting next to one of her oldest friends from high school, talking about something as grown-up as divorce proceedings. She couldn't help the giggles that slipped out of her; the more she thought about it.

Really it was a normal thing that happened to everyone, getting old. Still, she never really thought about Charlie getting older and having older people problems. And she especially didn't imagine this is where she'd be at this point in her life.

At twenty, Fiona never thought that at age thirty-four, she'd be starting her life over again, lost on what to do next, or where to go, a university drop out, and living in California.

From beside her, Charlie let out a deep chuckle as he watched Fiona, her shoulders shaking as she tried to suppress her laughter. Charlie knew precisely what Fiona was getting at. He was no stranger to the existential dread of a life half lived.

Charlie had many late, sleepless nights. Nights where he would toss and turn in bed, his mind full of the endless anxiety that his best years were behind him.

"Tell me about it," Charlie spoke once Fiona's giggles died down. "It's like one morning I woke up, and I'm suddenly thirty-five years old, like I aged overnight."

Charlie shook his head, a grin plastered on his face. Usually, he would pity himself for his life's dullness thus far, but the alcohol in his system has crossed the wiring in his brain. At this moment, he found the lack of excitement in his life as amusing as all hell.

"I never did anything fun when I was in my twenties," he stated. "I never had any wild nights or one night stands. I never did any of the experimenting you can get away with when you're young."

Fiona nodded along, listening attentively.

"I didn't do any of the fun, reckless shit you're supposed to do. No, I spent the majority of my twenties worrying about bill payments and mortgages, life insurance and being a husband."

Charlie let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, his gaze directed at his hand clasped around his beer bottle.

He had never admitted these feelings to anyone, not even to Nicole. But, confessing his feelings to Fiona felt… freeing, even more so when he lifted his gaze to see her nodding and smiling at his words.

"Tell me about it!" She replied, perhaps a little too loudly. The remaining patrons surrounding them turned their heads at the abrupt, disruptive noise, but Fiona paid them no mind.

"It's hard not to feel like your best years are behind you, especially when you had to grow up faster than those around you." She said, consciously lowering the volume of her voice a little bit.

Fiona had never met anyone her age that felt the same way about their twenties. All of her peers only had good things to say and funny stories to tell about how they spent their twenties.

All around her, people told stories about their crazy one night stands, pregnancy scares, partying, and the places they travelled too. Fiona never did any of that. She didn't even go anywhere outside of L.A for her honeymoon.

"I spent my twenties and nearly half of my thirties taking care of and being responsible for my mum. While I'm so grateful for the time that I had with her, I just wish… I wish that the responsibility didn't fall onto my shoulders."

God, that makes me sound like such a terrible person, she thought to herself, taking a sip from her drink to busy herself and avoid eye contact with Charlie.

"I know what you mean," Charlie spoke, causing Fiona to snap her head up to meet Charlie's gaze.

"Don't get me wrong," he continued, "I loved building the theatre from the ground up and working through all the problems that came up during its development, but sometimes I feel like the stress of it all shaved a good ten years off my life."

He chuckled to himself, taking a final sip of his beer and setting down the empty bottle on the bar top.

"And being a husband was… rewarding in its own way. I learned a lot, through being married, about partnership and responsibility."

The bartender walked over to the pair, interrupting Charlie's next thought. He picked up the empty beer bottle and Fiona's empty glass.

"It's last call," the bartender spoke, as he placed the glass and bottle somewhere under the counter. "You two need anything else?"

Fiona turned to look at Charlie, who gave a slight shake of his head, then turned back to the young bartender who stood in front of them.

"No, we're ok, thank you," Fiona answered, flashing an appreciative smile at the man, who gave a curt nod before leaving.

"There's just more I wish I'd done." Charlie continued, "I don't know. I guess it just feels like I missed out on a lot of things because I got married so young."

Fiona tilted her head to the side, her eyebrows furrowing together.

"Like what? What sort of things?" she inquired.

"Well, like, Nicole and I, we never, we uh we never…" Charlie trailed off, his eyes darting from Fiona to just about anywhere else.

Fiona's eyebrow lifted, and her eyes narrowed slightly. "You never… what?"

"We never…" Charlie started again, his eyes still dancing around the room, trying to find a focal point.

He glanced over at Fiona, her eyes wide and expectant. Charlie just sighed and mumbled, "it's embarrassing."

"Oh, it can't be that bad." Fiona playfully nudged Charlie's shoulder.

Charlie shook his head lightly, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink.

"C'mon Barber, you have to tell me now." Fiona urged lightly.

Charlie shook his head again. This time, a light chuckle escaped him.

"Besides, it's just me." Fiona continued with a wave of her hand, "who am I going to tell? And it's not like I'm the walking, talking poster-child for an avid social life either. So, I'm probably in the same boat."

Fiona shrugged when Charlie met her gaze. There was a coy smile etched on her face, her eyes filled with sincerity.

Charlie sighed, "We never did anything.. adventurous in bed."

The words were just barely above a whisper. If Fiona wasn't sitting directly beside Charlie, she probably wouldn't have heard him.

"That's completely normal, Charlie. Most couples don't have sex 50 Shades of Grey sty-"

"No, you don't understand," Charlie interrupted with a shake of his head, "We only ever had sex using two, maybe three, of the most basic positions."

Charlie glanced over at Fiona for the first time since his confession. Her eyebrows were shot up in surprise, and her jaw hanging open, lips forming into a little 'o' shape.

Charlie nodded his head and shrugged, "Yeah, I know."

Fiona's face quickly dropped, making Charlie chuckle. She didn't mean for her facial features to portray her surprise so blatantly. It was just so shocking and not at all what she assumed at first.

Fiona's mind was reeling with questions. She wanted to ask Charlie which positions he was talking about. He must be talking about the more fun basic ones, right? Surely he didn't mean they stuck to variations of the missionary position.

Fiona went to speak, to reassure her friend in some way. But each time she opened her mouth, the words died on her tongue. She was genuinely dumbfounded, at a loss for words. So she sat on the barstool, her mouth opening to speak and then closing again periodically.

Charlie stared at Fiona as he watched her process the information he just gave her. He could practically see the wheels turning in her head, her eyebrows furrowing together slightly, and her bottom lip snagged by her teeth.

He tried to suppress the small chuckles the rumbled out of his chest as he watched Fiona at a loss for words. This was someone who always had a comeback, a word of encouragement and kindness. Charlie had never seen Fiona rendered speechless before.

After quite some time, Fiona spoke, "Not even any foreplay?'

The question was quiet, mumbled, and laced with a tone of awe or wonderment. Charlie wasn't sure she had meant to say it out loud.

His suspicions were proven to be right when Fiona looked up at him sheepishly, a bright red blush spread across the tops of her cheeks.

Fiona looked away from Charlie, tucking her hair behind her ears.

"I don't know if you'd call it foreplay, but, yeah," Charlie replied, shyly.

Charlie could feel the heat rise to his cheeks, but he wrote it off as the effects of the alcohol.

"What do you mean?" Fiona pipped up, looking quizzically at Charlie.

Charlie cleared his throat, "We only ever did, uh, hand stuff. And only just to, uh, get the job done…"

God, he felt like a grade-schooler again, sheepishly talking about sex. He couldn't even bring himself to say the proper terminology.

"Wait, so you're telling me that she never…" Fiona trailed off, making a suggestive motion with her hand near her mouth.

Charlie just smiled at her, shifting ever so slightly each time Fiona's tongue pushed out against her cheek. The alcohol and lack of food in his system had already fogged his brain, making him slightly dizzy.

At least, that's what Charlie was telling himself. As he watched Fiona, he willed his body not to betray him by sending blood down to his crotch at the lewd gesture.

"Nope, never. Not even on my birthday." Charlie admitted with a longing sigh, tearing his eyes away from Fiona before clearing his throat.

"And she never let me go down on her either," Charlie paused, his mind flashing with memories of him nearly begging to go down on Nicole. "I think that's the one thing I miss the most," he mumbled, half to himself, half to Fiona.

Fiona nearly choked at the blunt honesty of his words. She remembered the way Charlie all but devoured his food like a man who'd been starved for years.

It wasn't long before her mind made the connection, images of what Charlie would look like, feel like, between her legs.

Fiona's thighs clench instinctively at the thought, her cheeks and ears set aflame by a red hot heat. Her gaze shifted to inspect the different bottles of alcohol, lining the shelves behind the bar.

The two sat in silence for a moment, Fiona meticulously observing each individual bottle. At the same time, Charlie fiddled with the wedding band on his finger.

It wasn't until Charlie caught a glimpse of his watch, catching the time, did he break the silence.

"Shit. I should probably get back." He mumbled, turning his head to face Fiona.

Fiona looked down at her phone, the time reading 10:45. "Yeah, I probably should too, I've got work pretty early tomorrow."

She pushed off the bar, giving her leverage to carefully step down from the stool. Charlie did the same, stumbling slightly as he untangled his legs.

Fiona was quick on her feet, coming up close to Charlie. She wrapped a hand around his waist, putting the other firmly at the centre of his chest.

"You ok?" she asked, looking up at him, while only the slightest hint of amusement on her face.

Charlie stiffened momentarily at the suddenness of Fiona's touch but quickly relaxed into it. Her hand on his chest was so small, yet it felt so stable, grounding Charlie to the spot where he stood.

"Yeah," he mumbled, "just these damn long legs."

Fiona chuckled, squeezing the side of his waist before stepping back from him. Her hand still lingered on his chest, absent-mindedly tracing the buttons with her finger.

"You are far too tall to be sitting on those stools."

Charlie returned her smile, letting out a breathy laugh. He was just about to reach for his wallet when Fiona's hand swatted lightly at his chest.

Charlie looked at her, tilting his head to the side inquisitively.

Fiona smiled, shaking her head side to side. "I've got this. You saved me from an otherwise very boring night."

"Let me at le-"Charlie started, but Fiona swatted him again.

"Barber, let me get the drinks, ok? You are, technically, my guest here in the city of angels, after all." Fiona winked at him before flagging down the bartender to settle the bill.

When she returned to Charlie, Fiona looped her arm around his waist once again. He had been swaying where he stood, not noticing until Fiona was there to stabilize him.

Fiona chuckled again, "C'mon sea legs, let's get you to bed."

Charlie mentally cursed himself for only eating a few pieces of roast chicken and nothing else since his breakfast this morning. At the same time, he let Fiona lead him to the hotel elevators.

"What floor are you on?" Fiona asked after pushing the 'up' button on the wall between elevators.

"I'm on the fifth floor, I think.." Charlie fished around in his pants pockets, looking for his hotel key.

He pulled it out from his back pocket, the number '515' scribbled on the envelope it was encased in.

"Yeah, the fifth floor," he confirmed as they both stepped into the waiting elevator car.

Charlie took purchase against the handrail while Fiona pushed the correct button.

"Looks like we're on the same floor." She smiled at him over her shoulder before hitting the close door button.

Fiona stepped back next to Charlie as she watched the doors close shut.

The elevator gave a sudden jolt upwards, causing Charlie to lose his footing and come crashing into Fiona with a grunt.

Again, Fiona's instincts were quick, and she caught Charlie in her arms, a hand on his chest like before. Only this time, this time, their bodies were touching.

Charlie's legs tangled with Fiona's, and his face was so close to hers that she could feel the warmth of his breath fan across her face.

The pair locked eyes. They stayed like that for just a moment before Fiona slowly pulled away, untangling her arms and legs from Charlie's body.

Charlie cleared his throat and mumbled a soft 'sorry,' leaning back against the cold metal wall. He stabilized himself by placing his hands on the handrail beside him.

Fiona copied Charlie, settling back into the wall as she focused on the changing numbers that indicated each floor. She placed one hand on the handrail, her fingers brushing against Charlie's briefly.

The rest of the ride was spent in silence, staring straight ahead. Neither of them dared to look over at the other, but they would have seen identical blushes spread across the other's face.

Fiona let out a breath when the elevator doors finally opened again. She stepped out, reaching for Charlie's arm as they walked down a nondescript hallway. This time, Charlie leads the way, interlocking Fiona's arm with his own.

"This is me," Charlie spoke, coming to a stop outside his door.

Fiona untangled her arm from Charlie's, turning to face in front of him. The two stood opposite from each other, Charlie leaning slightly against the wall.

He was staring at Fiona, studying her face, with a smile tugging at his lips.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Fiona asked, smirking up at Charlie.

Charlie's smile widened, an amused huff of air leaving him.

"It's nothing, I just was expecting this to be a shitty night," Charlie stated with a shrug, his hands finding purchase in his pants pockets. "And I definitely wasn't expecting to see you again, especially not here of all places."

Fiona's head dipped down, her hands brushing her hair behind her ears. It was a nervous habit, a self soother of sorts, that Fiona had always done. It was something Charlie had always found it to be earnestly adorable, though he never said that out loud.

"Hmm, I was pleasantly surprised to see you too. I, I.." Fiona paused. She wanted to tell Charlie that she missed him, but something inside her stopped her.

Instead, she said, "It was nice to see you again, Charlie."

Fiona flashed Charlie a toothy grin and gave him a light jab in the chest with her finger. Charlie caught her hand in his own before she could pull away.

He gave a light tug on her arm, beckoning Fiona closer to him. Fiona's breath hitched as she looked into Charlie's eyes. His brown eyes were burning with… adoration? Sincerity?

Fiona couldn't tell, but the look in Charlie's eye was warm and welcoming, impossible to tear away from. She had gotten so lost in it that she didn't notice Charlie wrap his arms around her, pulling her into a hug.

She hadn't noticed that she wrapped her own arms around his neck, that Charlie was now smirking at her. Fiona cleared her throat and gave an awkward chuckle.

Fiona let herself relax into Charlie's arms, resting her chin on his shoulder. "Don't be a stranger, Barber, seriously."

"I won't promise."

"I'll hold you to that."

Fiona pulled away, her hands dropping to pat lightly on Charlie's chest.

"Good night, Barber."

Charlie stepped back, his arms dropping from Fiona's waist, go fish out his hotel keycard.

"Good night, Fiona." Charlie smiled.

With that, Fiona turned around and made her way back down the hall towards her room.

*********

taglist: @hardlyinteresting @gurl-ly

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shy-violet-soul · 4 years ago

Text

The Things We Don’t Ask For

Summary: I’ve lived my life standing on my own two feet. It doesn’t occur to me to ask for anything. But, just because I carry it well doesn’t mean my burdens aren’t heavy.

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Warnings: a wee bit of angst, a whole lot of fluff

Word count: 2,000 ish

A/N: this is pure selfish daydreaming. Introvert that I am, I miss hugs and casual affectionate touches during this time of keeping my dear ones safe. This one goes out to all of us who fight the good fight every day, all on our own.

A/N 2: A very huge and very appreciative thank you hugs to the amazing @thesassywallflower for beta-ing this for me. Your feedback is so valued! Also, I’m experimenting with a different writing style inspired by the incredible @nacho-bucky . Thank you for giving this a read, and for sharing your art with us.

This is a work of fiction. Please do not copy my work without my written consent.

Original pic credit to owner. Very bad editing by me due to boredom.

I’m tired.

My body sinks like a broken anchor. My joints sit heavy, fatigue tiding into my limbs in mild aches. I feel the waves only distantly, the strain a susurrus I’m used to. When my brain is busy, navigating the gyres and currents of my day, I don’t notice it. But now, with idleness sudden and loud in my head, I feel every creak as I settle into the depths of a ridiculously comfortable sofa.

[[More]]

Comforting sounds of putzing from the kitchen snap me back from tempting, drowsy depths. The friendly click click click of claws on the floor tug a smile free as a happy black snout plops on my leg.

“Hey, there, Bobby!” The pup’s silky black ears are magic, siphoning stress right out of my fingertips as I happily scritch and stroke. My smile swells wider as the goodest good boy groans before he leaps up next to me. Canine kisses catch me chin to cheek, loosing giggles from me as I turn only enough to keep the black Cocker Spaniel from licking my mouth or eyeball.

“Oh, my Lord! Bobby, leave that poor girl alone!” Warmth waves into my chest in the wake of that deep voice, and Bobby laps half in my nose because I’m following my smile up, up into his blue eyes. The freedom I give myself now to dive deep into his gaze still nearly takes my breath.

Settled comfortably in a leather chair, a cup of chai steamed cheer in spice-scented whisps at my elbow as I organized my work. Pattern and pink highlighter on the table, I let the in-progress baby blanket cascade in velvet folds under my hands. Dangling earbud cords hung an invisible ‘do not disturb’ sign. The magpie chatter of my Monday through Friday left me wrung out and empty of words by week’s end, and the only conversation I often felt up to was my chai order and a passing smile. I craved the silent slide of needles and yarn, letting them disconnect my brain so I could refill my words.

Sunshine lighting the work in my lap, I snuggled happily into the cracked leather and let the clatter and whistle fade behind the soothing cello notes of my Piano Guys station. Stitches whiled away a half hour before movement caught the corner of my eye. Without looking up, I spied dark navy jeans and men’s black boots. Just above, long fingered hands cradled a leather-bound notebook, a paperback, and a steaming mug. With a quick glance, I watched him look about the seating area. I recognized the downcast eyes and tucked-in chin of a fellow chit chat dodger. Unwilling to invite conversation but empathetic to his plight, I shifted my cup-and-saucered treat to the side and slid my pattern beside me. Silent permission to sit in peace. Leather toes pointed my way, paused, then tucked themselves beneath the table. Another steaming cup joined mine, and I heard the squeak of leather over the piano in my ears as he accepted the comfort of my corner.

Studiously avoiding his gaze and clinging to my quiet, I kept on. An hour and three more carefully knitted rows later, I rolled my head around and back, cracking the tiny joints before I held the work up in front of me. Fuschia, tangerine, and blush wove together into a lacy blanket, perfect for my neighbor’s baby girl due in a few months. Plenty of time to finish the half-done work. My pride still crinkling my eyes, I scooted the work safely away from the needle ends and paused in mid-reach for my long-cold chai.

My corner mate sat transfixed, chin resting on his hand as his book and notebook sat ignored in his lap. When he caught my glance, he straightened up and smiled. The brilliance of his blue eyes set me blinking, like I’d looked up at the bright summer sky after too many dim hours indoors. He gestured towards the blanket and I obligingly pulled my earbuds free, a fleeting lance of recognition prodding at me as he sat forward.

“I’m sorry to bother you, but this is quite stunning. Did you do all that yourself?”

“Thank you. I did.”

As if he couldn’t stop himself, he gingerly fingered the end of the blanket. “My word, that is soft. I had no idea they made yarn like this. Is this to be a blanket?”

“Yes, a baby blanket. It’s velvet yarn. I didn’t know they made it, either, I found it by accident.”

“A baby blanket? Am I to offer you congratulations?”

“No, it’s for my neighbor. She and her husband and daughter are expecting a baby girl.”

He introduced himself a few moments later, and I let him think I didn’t know who he was. Before I knew it, an hour went by, then two. Never once did I scrooge over my lost quiet, because it never felt lost. Instead, I found myself seen like I’d never been before. Something butterflied in my belly at a man’s undivided attention. New, alien, I ignored it as I treated him with friendliness, courtesy.

I figured Master Thomas Hiddleston got precious little of the last.

A chance chat turned into a hoped-for encounter as Tom adorably lurked about the coffee shop, fingers crossed for my return the next Saturday. Lunch, a few dinners, and a host of text messages later, and I bemusedly refused the idea that this man was dating me.

And yet, weeks later, I’m sitting on his couch. As he breezes a kiss to me, my lips tingle and the same butterflies swirl up in my belly. He places a tray on the coffee table, urging Bobby to settle as he hunts the remote. My gaze lands on the tray, and my buoyed spirit bobbles.

Cheerfully stacked planks of vanilla, strawberry, and chocolate wafer cookies, and I can already taste the sugared crumbs of my favorite treat on my fingers. Rose and cardamom brume curling above a cup unveil my favorite tea, from a shop over 2 hours away. Fragments of conversation that I had innocently tossed, casual detritus on a course I didn’t know he charted.

“Alright now, darling, I found that film you mentioned. The one with Emma Samms and Denis Lawson. I’d no idea he was in this film. I remember watching ‘Bleak House’ on BBC, I thought his performance…” As he lifts a DVD case aloft, his words become a distant, burbled fog. I sharply swallow down the sudden wind wave of tears at the repeated realization I still cannot grasp.

He sees me.

I’ve built my life without a lighthouse. Journeyed contentedly under the steam of an unheard sonar, the pings of a heartbeat happy on its own. My compass crafted carefully, each tear-salt rusted edge a hard-won victory over a map blanked by friendly coupled flocks. I waved them off, bittersweet when unanswered amid their own journeys. Never seen. Never bothered. Never asking.

But he sees me.

The truth of it all at once overwhelms and undercuts me. Swelling, then sinking, I feel as if my broken-anchor body cracks, sloughing off coats of salty red as oxygen leaves me. Faintly, Tom’s voice distinguishes back into words as I secretly flounder before him.

“...found it on some obscure website aptly called ‘eCrater’. I’ll have to return to it and see what other titles they may have in...love, are you alright?”

Two sets of puppy dog eyes regard me now, and the warmth of his hand on mine cuts loose a sob. Horror chases after it, and I dive to hide in my lap. So used to being unseen, the suddenness of the tender focus spotlighting me has me cold and quaking.

Even as I sink, though, a mooring. His bulk steadies before me as he kneels. His warmth settles about me as he wraps me up in strength, unfamiliar in the lending. A hundred hushed comforts croon into my ears, and every attempt I make to seize onto some control slips away with each endearment.

“Oh, darling! Love, what’s wrong? Has something happened? It’s alright, it’s okay, I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

Exhausted, enraptured, I let myself drift. The scent of his soap zephyrs through me, the drag of his long fingers against my scalp a drug I drag in deep and greedily. So blissfully, brokenly free am I in that moment, I don’t resist when his warm hands urge my salt-fogged gaze up to his.

“What is it? What can I do?” he implores.

The words cast off before I can stop them.

“You’re so nice.”

Confusion crinkles a line between his brows as he strokes my hair behind my ear.

“This a problem? My being nice?”

A watery chuckle croaks from me. How to make him understand? Fear of looking pathetic closes my throat with anxiety, but when he presses a kiss to my forehead, the warmth of it shuts my eyes. His clear affection for me - me - tides through and through, and the hungerings I’ve hidden for a lifetime are helpless but to rise and meet him. Fear and freedom tremble in my fingers as I raise them to trace his brow, his cheek, settling hesitant against his jaw.

“No, not a problem. I’m just...not used to being remembered.”

His concerned gaze softens now, the heaviness of worry lightening.

“My darling girl. You’d best become accustomed to me remembering you.” Caring strokes right through me from his fingertips along my face, and dizzying heat pours in from his kiss on mine. Fresh tears sting salty beneath my eyes as I feel his heart beat beneath my hands. The giddying swirls in my belly from the slight drag of his lips against me, the clutch of his arms in my esurient hands. This receiving, this giving, this freedom is a siren call I’ve never dreamed of.

“Now - we are going - to enjoy this film,” Tom starts, kisses dashing his words and dotting my face. “We are going - to drink - our tea, you are going to devour the biscuits, and I,” and his voice drowns me in its sudden depth, “may just devour you.”

The dizzy butterflies unleash a delirious giggle from my middle. The rasp of his calloused thumbs sweeping away my tears brings on a fresh wave. But they sparkle in the trying sunshine of my smile.

Tom growls playfully under my chin before moving to get the movie started, then groans when he turns back to see Bobby has taken his spot beside me. Puppy whimpers and gentle scolds filter in with the opening sequence of a 90s British whodunit story, tugging my smile wider. As Tom settles in beside me, shyness struggles amid the butterflies.

“Can we snuggle?” I whisper the request, my newfound surety soft as sand, but still solid enough to hold me. Tom answers me with outstretched arms and a smile bright enough to turn the tide. I dive in, nestle down, clasp him close.

Unseen, I feel his smile against my forehead. Unbothered, the movements of him shifting us to lay down hardly register. Unasking, we luxuriate in the quiet affection of soft touches and contented sighs.

And my broken-anchor body drifts away.

#shy vy writes #the things we don’t ask for #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston

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afewmarvelousthoughts · 5 years ago

Text

Only Your Touch

Master List: @afewmarvelousthoughtsadmin

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Summary: Sometimes the ghosts from the past are in control. Sometimes, you just need to scream. (This is in the Only For A Moment universe but can be read as a stand-alone.)

Warnings: Trauma, flashbacks, allusions to rape

A/N: If you’ve read, oh idk, any of my series at all you know any fluff is usually tempered by a dose of hurt. My brain pumped out that sweet Valentine’s fluff and immediately pivoted here. Part because I’m a monster and part because it’s something that was touched on in Part One of Only For A Moment and we didn’t circle back to it. And also because I find it important to remember that healing isn’t linear.

This is heavy so please read with caution. (Does end sweetly though.)

Every time the home you share with Bucky comes into view you can’t help but smile.

The lake, your collection of small thatched roofs, the smell of earth and hay--all coming together every day, no matter how tired your body, to welcome you back. But there was something missing this afternoon, Bucky wasn’t out working.

Odd. You think as you pull the bike to a halt.

You step inside, breathing in the smell of cardamom, cinnamon, and rich earth, listening for him. Just barely you can make out breathing from the bedroom to your right. He must have laid down for a nap or to read.

A mischievous smirk lifts your lips. Regardless of the reason, you were always happy to join him in bed. Quietly you slip out of your clothes before heading into your small bedroom.

Bucky lay on his right side, facing away from you, the defined muscles along his back practically begging to be touched. You crawl into the bed and under the covers, pressing your chest to his warmth.

“Hey there Mr. Barnes,” you breathe into his ear. You kiss his neck as your hand goes to grab his cock, already aching to feel him. Before you make contact his hand grips your wrist so tight you suck in a quick breath as the bones bend ever so slightly.

“Please… don’t,” he says in a hoarse whisper, grip loosening just enough. Your heart falls into your stomach.

“Are you ok?” You ask, knowing the answer.

He shakes his head against the pillow, breath ticking up, “No.” You can feel him fighting to steady his breath beneath your touch, and feel him fail.

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” he releases your wrist and bolts for the bathroom. You follow him, worry humming in your veins.

He hits his knees before the toilet, heaving. Immediately you gather his hair in your hands, holding it back. Gripping the bowl with his hand he purges until there’s nothing left, his body trembling with the force.

“I’m gonna get you some water,” you say. It takes only a few seconds to go to the kitchen and back. He takes the glass, looking up at you with red eyes.

“Thank you,” he says before taking a sip. You nod, plucking your cream-colored robe from the hook and slip into it, not bothering with the tie.

Sighing he sets the glass aside, moving to lean his back to the wall. His head falls back with a thud, brows creased as he tries once more to slow his breathing.

All you want to do is hold him, cradle him in your arms until his muscles stop their incessant twitching and his soul settles. You know this isn’t the time though. Instead, you just sit on the floor close to him, taking care to leave enough space for him to breathe but not too much that he’ll think you’re scared.

“I’m so sorry, Bucky, I didn’t-”

“Oh god, doll, no,” he shakes his head, looking at you with those haunted eyes. “You didn’t-” He reaches over, fingertips just barely touching your knee before pulling his hand back.

Bucky touches his left shoulder as he does from time to time. A reminder that they no longer have him, he is not their weapon anymore.

It doesn’t seem to bring him the reassurance he’s seeking. He covers his face with his hand, a small sob breaking free. Your own eyes burn, your teeth digging into your bottom lip. Every fiber of your being wants to help him but you just don’t know how.

He lowers his hand, pressing the palm flat against the cool polished concrete of the floor to ground himself. You watch as his chest stutters with his attempts to calm himself.

Bearing his teeth, his eyes squeezed shut he tilts his face up as his back arches, breath hissing out as if he’s in pain.

“Bucky,” you gasp, unable to stop yourself, body moving toward him.

“Ju-j--just,” he stutters through clenched teeth. “Just tell me they’re not here.”

The missing piece clicks into place.

Shuri had said that the trade-off of fixing what Hydra did to Bucky’s mind meant that he may remember other things more clearly, things he may not want to remember. There had been quite a few rough nights as those memories came back but nothing like this.

“There’s no one here but me, baby,” you say in a solid but soothing tone. “No one.” He nods before a groan doubles him over, arm wrapped around his middle.

“Don’t,” he barks as your hands hover over him. “Please,” his pleading tone sending a wave of pain through you. He rests his head against his knees, body shaking with tremors.

“Please don’t touch me. I-” His voice breaks with a sob.

There’s no stopping your own tears now, they slide silently down your cheeks. A small whimper of pain from him takes your breath. In the same moment, you can hear the glass of the mirror shake just a bit, your power threatening to lash out. With effort, you pull it under control.

“I can feel them,” he manages at last. “I know it’s not real but I can feel their hands…”

His back straightens, you can see his jaw flex as he tries to hold in a scream.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, head once more pressed into his knees.

Forcing calm into your voice you say, “Talk it out if it helps. Whatever it is-”

“No,” he says softly. “Not this. I-I c-can’t.”

“Look at me, Bucky.” Slowly he does, the terror on his face filling you with rage at anyone who made him feel this way before. “Whatever it is, you can share it with me. I’ll help you carry it if you want me to.”

He swallows a sob, fixing his eyes on the floor between you before speaking.

“I can-” he grimaces. “I can feel them touching me. Goddamnit-” his breath comes in ragged gasps.

For several minutes neither of you say a thing. Each sound of suffering from him breaks something inside of you. Still, you wait, sitting back on your heels your hands in white-knuckled fists resting on your knees.

“I can feel them-” he pauses. Looking up at you he continues, “I-I,” his eyes slowly close, “I can feel them in me.” When they open once more they’re begging you to know what he means, because he may want to try and share but it’s clear he can’t say more from the way his mouth opens and closes.

He doesn’t have to say more.

The two of you had shared so much with one another but this, this you had both locked away inside yourselves. Sometimes it surfaced, like the first night you spent together when he struggled to let you touch him, or others when you needed to sleep alone because the thought of someone touching you was too much. But to say it, to admit out loud--even to the person you loved most in the world--just how much those monsters had done… It was just too hard. Until now.

“Oh, Bucky,” you breathe out. “I understand. Believe me, I do.”

His face contorts, “No.” HIs head shakes, “I don’t want you to understand this… not this.”

“But I do…” Far too well you knew the touch of phantom hands.

Another flash of pain colors his features but he doesn’t make a sound. With gutwrenching clarity, you realize that he’s not keeping quiet for your sake or even his. You can hear the orders of silence as clearly in your ears as he must be hearing them in his own.

“Just scream,” you say. The desperation in his eyes shatters your heart but you will not let it show. “Do it. Let it out. Whatever you need. Scream, cry, break shit--it doesn’t matter, just don’t hold it in.” It’s easier said than done you know.

You watch as his body reacts, telling him there is pain where there is none, reminding him that sometimes the past is in control. A bead of blood forms where his teeth bite into his lip, desperately trying to silence himself, follow orders, save himself from more pain.

“There is just me here, Bucky,” you say in an attempt at encouragement.

Maybe that was the push he needed or maybe his body and mind had reached a breaking point. Regardless his arm unfurls from his abdomen, fist slamming into the floor. You can smell the coppery tang of blood from his busted knuckles.

“Fuck!” He bellows. His body lurches forward as though pulled by some unseen force.

On his hand and knees, Bucky screams. Over and over, punctuated only by his sobs.

For decades he’d been forced into silence, a prisoner within his own body. He’d endured more than any man should, and now the sound of a lifetime of suffering fills the space around you. His body shakes, muscles rippling with tension as he purges every unuttered cry of pain, of protest, of hatred.

You do not look away, do not cringe back from his rage. You sit, your silence a safe harbor for him when he’s ready. Though a part of you does wonder if there is a sea of such sorrow waiting in your own soul, and if so will it break free one day too?

After a long while, he begins to fall silent. At first in fits and starts, then there is nothing but ragged breathing as he tries to pull air into his undoubtedly tired lungs. Soon, he falls to his side on the cold hard floor, knees drawn up toward his chest, body shaking all over from exhaustion.

Without hesitation, you lay on your side beside him, a comfortable distance between you. His lids flutter open and you swear his eyes are less haunted than before.

“What do you need?” You ask in a whisper.

“You,” he responds, voice almost gone. “But… I can’t… I don’t want to think your touch is theirs.” He looks so sad at the thought. You only smile.

“I can touch you without touching you.” His brow knits in confusion, too tired to understand your meaning. “Would you mind if I try?” After a beat, he nods.

You start small, sending your power out to cup his cheek. He lets out a small breath, eyes closing. Slowly you allow your power to cover him down his shoulders and around his chest until you’ve cocooned his upper body in an invisible blanket.

“Is this ok?”

“Yes,” his voice cracks a bit. “Only you could touch me like this,” he smiles as fresh tears trickle from his shuttered eyes. “It could only be you.”

Blinking away your own tears you cover his whole body in your power, squeezing ever so slightly. He releases a sigh that could almost be read as contented.

“Do you want to stay here?” You ask. His eyes open, a flash of concern in them.

“I… I don’t know.” He was past the point that he could make many choices now.

“Let’s move to the bed. We’ve both laid on enough hard concrete floors for several lifetimes.”

“Ok.” You feel your chest constrict as that desperation rises to his face again. “Just please don’t let go.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, baby.”

His breathing becomes more even and you can feel his muscles relax under your hold as the minutes tick by. You even manage to get a piece of bread in him and another glass of water before laying down beside him.

For once, you actually make use of the space your bed affords, you were both so used to sharing a small mattress that most of the bed often went unused. Now it allowed you enough space to be near but keep him comfortable.

“Y/N?” He mumbles, voice hoarse from strain and exhaustion.

“Yes, love?” You’re surprised, you’d thought he’d drifted off a bit ago.

“Will you hold my hand?” His eyes don’t open but you can see the corners of his mouth lift just a bit.

You swallow hard trying not to let the tears in your eyes show in your voice.

“Of course.”

He turns his hand up, the back resting on the mattress. You slowly slide your hand over his. The palm is warm and rough but his fingers are long, strong, graceful even. You loved this hand. Once your fingers are between his he holds on tightly.

“Thank you,” he whispers, voice slurring a bit.

As the light outside fades you keep vigil your hold on both his body and his heart, never wavering.

TAGS

@bluegirlusa1 @l0kisbitch @tazzi-baby @disagreetoagree @woodyandbuzz20-01 @mooniightbucky @saundrasays @breezy1415 @alyssaj23 @mywinterwolf @wonderlandmind4 @fairislesheets @anamcg317 @buckaroo-barnes @jazztherebel @peachthatdrinkslemonade @regulusirius @auskitty @babyimp1967 @katecolleen @handplucked @stevehesaidabadlanguageword @darkdragonphoenix @issanitydead @thestorydetective @buckysstar @wintersoldierswhore @greyeyedsmile14 @watchoutforfrostbite @for-the-love-of-the-fandom @jewelofwinter @siriuslycloudy2 @hardygal69 @marvelousmeggi @jdoenson @gamorazenn @wildmoonflower @cutie1365 @demonlover87 @winterboobearsworld @this-kitten-is-smitten @damnaged-princess

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky #bucky barnes #bucky angst

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thegutlessfoodie · 4 years ago

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That North South East West Meal - Done After what seems like eons @beingbengt & I were going to meet @sarah_mody & her mom Meher! They were coming for lunch!! I was so excited especially since this is the first time they'd ever come to my home (usually I land up at their home because I love to play with their dogs😁) I decided to do my usual - pampering😁I made a complete meal Inspired by North, South East & West India Clockwise : 1. That North India Inspired @thegutlessfoodie Style Kadhai Chicken Recipe in comments because of lack of space in caption 2. That West India Inspired Prawn Curry Recipe in comments because of lack of space in caption 3. Those South India Inspired Baby Potatoes I pressure cooked & peeled baby potatoes in salted water & set aside I tempered coconut oil with mustard seeds, urad dal/skinless blackgram, asafoetida, curry leaves, green chillies, garlic & onions. I then added red chilli powder, @lifewithspices sambar powder, salt, fresh coriander, tomatoes & finished with tamarind pulp 4. That Freshly Steamed Basmati Rice 5. Those Quick Pickled Onions & Beets & Lime 6. Those Whole Wheat Parathas 7. Those East India Inspired Homemade Anguri Ras Malais I mashed malai paneer till smooth & then rolled into tiny balls I heated sugar & 4 times the amount of water & dropped the balls in it & boiled till they doubled in size. I removed the balls from the sugar syrup & dropped into plain water - if they sink, they're done I boiled milk in a heavy bottomed pan till it evaporated a bit. I added sugar & continued to boil till it evaporated to half quantity & was thick. I added in saffron infused milk, green cardamom powder & almond slivers I squeezed the paneer balls & dropped into the thickened milk.i chilled & served I was so happy that both Sarah & Meher loved the food & even took home doggy bags. Best compliment ever!!! Don't you think? (at One North) https://www.instagram.com/p/CGZ_xQvg4Qc/?igshid=23te7cl8out9

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flapperfromthefuture · 5 years ago

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I’ve been experimenting with a couple of new ways to beat the winter blues—baking with such frenzy that I have to buy the 18 egg cartons and the person at the register asks me, “Big weekend plans?” every. single. time, and expanding my horizons with such gusto that I nearly got dropkicked by a jazz enthusiast.

Let me explain.

After watching a beautiful tombstone-grey sunset at 3:30 one October afternoon, I had the urge to bake because “You can’t stick your head in the oven if there’s other stuff in there.”

So I have been baking. Like, obsessively.

I’ve even gotten fancy. I made a povitica, the Aaron Burr of breads, with raspberry and then apricot jam (very sticky, but tasty). Then I wanted to try a savory challah, so I experimented with adding different amounts of cardamom and THEN za’atar.

I tried making challah with harissa because it seemed like a good idea at the time. It was super messy working the harissa into the dough and then braiding it before the whole loaf could fall apart, but the end result was delicious and made my kitchen smell like a spice market in the midst of somewhere warm that is not Michigan.

I made two Bienenstich, or bee sting cakes, which I hadn’t attempted since my brioche class. I managed not to overdo the topping this time! No almond-induced structural collapses here.

Then I made this gigantic cinnamon roll, which the recipe claimed was an Estonian Kringla, and since the best cinnamon roll I’ve ever had was in Estonia, I tried it out. And it was pretty good, but didn’t quite get me to pre-winter euphoria levels, aka enough energy to stay awake past mid-afternoon because it’s so dark outside.

My sister really wanted to make Halloween desserts together, which translated into me buying all the supplies and then baking everything myself while she lay on the floor.

She had just run a half-marathon . . . five days earlier.

I don’t like making Rice Krispie treats as they are a tactile nightmare. Everything you touch sticks to you forever and then continues to stick to you even after you die. I also gravely miscalculated how many marshmallows to buy (because weight and volume are different, apparently? School never covered that) and my mom will not let me live it down—anyone who stops by the house is asked, “Do you want something to drink? Or maybe some marshmallows? Elizabeth bought a thousand.”

Stella likes to say, “God knew you’d be too powerful if you were good at math.”

I don’t enjoy cooking as much as baking, but I made my yearly stab at sides for Thanksgiving. These harissa sweet potatoes looked beautiful but were a little too spicy for my weak-ass family.

(I also may have put in too much harissa. But it’s expensive and I wanted to use it all!).

A and I are officially in the throes of cabin fever, and when our beloved Midnight Madness rolled around, she decided that we needed to mix things up and elected to check out a jazz club downtown that we had never visited. Our friend Julia was with us and her mom was in town from the East Coast, so A thought we’d show them a sophisticated time . . . after visiting the holiday petting zoo, of course, and making a quick stop in the Himalayan Bazaar to see if the Yeti was around—he was not, because he never is, BUT I WILL SEE HIM NEXT YEAR SO HELP ME.

Stella did not join us for Midnight Madness, electing instead to stay in and watch The Crown, which in hindsight, was too much of a gamble to take without supervision.

We swept into the jazz club with our heavy coats and dorky beanies and I immediately felt way too square to chill with the jazz cats. Everyone had sleek scarves and trendy eyewear and even the gorgeous modern light fixtures seemed to judge us as we sat at our table.

There was a lady wearing sunglasses inside. At night. In winter.

It was below freezing out. I thought, “Is this an awards show?”

I had only eaten roasted almonds and hot chocolate for dinner so I needed something revitalizing . . . or barring that, mozzarella sticks.

This jazz club did not have mozzarella sticks. Mozzarella sticks aren’t cool. They had charcuterie plates, pate, foie gras PB&J (why?), and charred baby octopus (WHY?), and everything was super expensive, but there was a jazz quintet onstage that seemed really legit, so I was excited to get some culture, even at the expense of mozzarella sticks.

A stared down at the menu like she could intimidate it into submission. She will eat anything, but draws the line at baby animals that have been set on fire.

“I don’t know what to get,” she said. “This never happens to me.”

“What are you guys ordering?” I asked Julia and her mom.

And then, out of nowhere, SLAM, a hand smacked our table loud enough to make me jump. An older man glared at me and said, “I’m not paying to hear you talk.”

He looked a lot like Santa, which made it even more distressing. I don’t want to get in trouble with Santa!

A is from Chicago and doesn’t take anyone’s shit (which is good for me, because to quote John Mulaney, “You could pour soup into my lap and I’d apologize to you“), so she looked Santa right in the eye and said, very calmly, “You don’t need to take that tone. We’ve never been here before and we’re trying to figure out what to order.”

Santa scowled and said, “Just be quiet.” Like we were children, which we are not. We patronize jazz clubs!

Just so we’re clear, A was the most well-behaved child who ever childed and practically showed up to preschool with a briefcase. No one has ever told her, “Just be quiet.” And I was so hyperfocused on craft kits and Legos that no one ever told me that either. In fact, adults scolded me to be less quiet because “You’re like a little ninja.”

“That wasn’t very Midwestern,” said Julia. “Don’t get the wrong idea, Mom. People in Ann Arbor are usually very chill.”

“He’s probably a boomer,” said Julia’s mom, who is a boomer herself, and incredibly cool.

We ordered our drinks and tried to enjoy the jazz.

Here’s the thing about jazz. People think they enjoy it, because music, right? Who doesn’t like music? Everyone loved La La Land, and there was jazz in that, right?

But what you don’t know about jazz, until you’re trapped in a jazz club with incinerated child octopi and furious boomers, is that the average jazz song is about fifteen minutes long. There’s the normal part, that sounds like a song and tells a story you can follow and enjoy, and then the improv starts. Every musician starts playing scales or hitting the drums in a way that should be exciting but really isn’t, and should build to something musically but really doesn’t, and then when they’re done the audience claps and the next person does the same thing, but it’s like listening to several minutes of joke set-ups with no punchlines. Over and over, until they just stop and then the next song starts.

“Are they going to do this for every song?” I thought about saying, but then did not, because I didn’t want to anger the man.

Instead, I checked my phone for a quick primer on jazz appreciation.

I still hadn’t eaten anything and A had declared that we wouldn’t be ordering any food so we could leave sooner . . . but not soon enough.

Other people were chatting and eating and enjoying the music, but I wasn’t doing any of those things.

A was glaring daggers into the back of Santa’s head.

Julia and her mom weren’t super into it either, to the point that Julia claimed that if she rushed the stage and pretended to be the next act by riffing on a triangle, no one would question it. Her mom was supportive of this, so it was time to go.

We said good-bye outside, relieved at finally being allowed to speak freely.

“That drum solo went on FOREVER,” said Julia.

“I thought the cymbal crash meant it was over but it just kept going!” said A.

“I really liked La La Land an hour ago and now I hate it,” I said.

So my journey to find something that will beat seasonal affective disorder back to whence it came continues. Will I go complicated and attempt to make my first panettone, which can take 24 HOURS to bake?

Or keep it simple and just get some mozzarella sticks?

Baking vs. Jazz: Holiday Showdown I’ve been experimenting with a couple of new ways to beat the winter blues—baking with such frenzy that I have to buy the 18 egg cartons and the person at the register asks me, "Big weekend plans?" every.

#ann arbor #baking #food #music

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mick-cooks · 6 years ago

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Pussy Berry Cake Babies

Cake babies are entremets without mousse. What is an Entremet? An entremets is in modern French cuisine a small multi-layered mousse-based dish whose novelty comes from the variation of flavors and textures. It’s extremely hard to make which is why this is a fucked up version of it but it still tastes good.

Here’s the one I thought should’ve won Great British Bake Off in 2017:

When I first made this, I tried to do it as a tray bake bc I did not yet (1) own acetate collars or (b) know how to make mousse. Both are crucial for a mess-free entremets. Cake entremets include a layer of mousse that goes around the entire cake to preserve the layers. OR you can use acetate collars to make little individual baby cakes.

Entremets has a bunch of different parts that you make separately then put together at the end so keeping all the parts evenly shaped and chilled is important so they’re not leaking all over each other. This dessert has the following components: molasses cookie, buttercream, sponge cake, blackberry jam jello, vanilla mousse, and decoration including blackberry balsamic vinegar and edible flowers.

Pussyberry Jello

2 cups blackberries

2 cups sugar

2 cups strong peach-ginger tea

1/3 cup lemon-infused honey

3 gelatin sheets (or use a packet of raspberry or blackberry Jell-o)

2 cups ice cold water

1 pinch of your favorite salt

What the shit is a pussyberry? Pussyberry is the flavor of all the things you like mixed together in a sweet but complex ecosystem of flavor. The first time I made this it was a big lumpy black-red mess that looked like the cake perioded everywhere and it’s a running joke between my boyfriend and me that I put period blood in his food to keep him in love with me.

This cake’s pussyberry profile is a muddled blackberry base in raspberry jello using honeyed peach-ginger tea instead of water. To make your own pussyberry flavor, feel free to substitute your favorite flavor of tea or Jell-o or flavor infused honey.

Crush blackberries either in a food processor or with a potato masher. Combine in a small-medium saucepan with the sugar, tea, and honey. Bring to a boil, stirring regularly. Add salt and gelatin sheets. Remove from heat while stirring for 2 minutes. Stir in ice water and divide mixture across 3 plastic tupperware containers*. This is to keep this layer from being too thick. Cover the containers and refrigerate for at least 4 hours. Overnight is better so you know it’s set.

When you’re ready to assemble the entremets, cut circles with the cookie cutter the same size as the other components.

If you don’t wait long enough your jello will fall apart but you can still spread that on naked sponge and let it soak in.

*If you have them, you can also use silicone molds the same size as the cookies. That’s what you should do if you’re on Great British Baking Show but I’m not and I have approximately 7,000 tupperware containers in my kitchen so I’m using what I have. Spray them with Pam or coconut oil before filling them!!!

Panna Cotta Is Just Vanilla Mousse

1 cup milk 2% or whole milk

2 tsp vanilla extract

1 tsp bergamot extract

2 packets 1/2 oz total unflavored gelatin

1 cup + 2 Tbsp granulated sugar

16 oz sour cream

8 oz 1 cup heavy whipping cream

In a small sauce pan, combine 1 cup milk, 1 tsp vanilla, 2 packets gelatin and whisk together. Place over medium heat and continue whisking until steamy NOT BOILING then remove from heat and cool until just warm.

In a large mixing bowl, beat 1 cup heavy cream until fluffy. Use an electric mixer because I tried to do it by hand and it Did Not Work™, In a second mixing bowl, whisk together 1 cup + 2 Tbsp sugar and 16 oz sour cream until well blended. Fold in whipped cream then while using the mixer on low speed, slowly add warm milk mixture, scraping down the bowl as needed.

Transfer to multiple GREASED tupperwares immediately because the gelatin will make it set quickly which is good. Put in the fridge for several hours while you make the other stuff. GREASE your containers or it’ll stick like this:

2 1/2 cups flour

granulated white sugar

brown sugar

butter, softened

molasses

cinnamon, toasted

nutmeg, toasted

ginger powder, toasted

cloves, freshly ground and toasted

cardamom, shelled, freshly ground and toasted

allspice, shelled, freshly ground and toasted

Preheat oven to 350. Mix wet and dry ingredients until a thick dough is formed.

Using your hands or an ice cream scoop, roll out flattish lumps of dough. Coat in white granulated sugar before spacing evenly on the cookie sheet. These will be the base of the entremets. Dust with white sugar before putting on cookie sheet. Bake on a greased cookie sheet (or use parchment paper) for 9 minutes.

Using parchment paper and a coffee can, flatten cookies. Use a cookie cutter to make them uniform. Pop in the freezer for 10 minutes to cool.

Sponge

Do yourself a favor and just use a box of regular yellow cake mix. It tastes good.

Preheat oven to 350 if you haven’t already. Bake in a large, shallow, rectangular pan. Grease the pan with a generous amount of shortening or butter then dust with flour so the cake will come out in one piece. When done, chill in the freezer for 20 minutes. Once chilled, pop the cake onto a cutting board. Use a round cookie cutter the same size as your finished cookies and cut twice as many cake circles as cookies since you will use the cake twice.

Buttercream Frosting

butter

powdered sugar

OR just buy the stuff from the store that comes already in the piping bag. I’m not the cake police and I’m certainly not a cake narc. Do what you want. This shit’s hard so cut corners where you can.

PUT IT ALL TOGETHER!

Combine all your chilly little circles by taping acetate collars around the cookies and layering from bottom to top:

Buttercream

Sponge

Jello

Sponge

Panna Cotta

Decorate with a tuft of whipped cream drizzled with blackberry balsamic vinegar and butterfly pea flowers.

Okay the final one with the panna cotta on top fell apart and the one with the jelly then panna cotta then sponge ALSO fell apart so if I did this again I would use a lot more gelatin and do the panna cotta and jelly in silicone molds.

#dessert #dessert recipes #recipes #desserts #cakes #entremets #entremet #gbbo #layer cake #parfait

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zukalations · 6 years ago

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BIHODOKI/Beauty behind the curtain - Manaki Reika (Moon Troupe)

BIHODOKI is a GRAPH musumeyaku feature about beauty, fashion and lifestyle. Manaki Reika’s was published in the February 2018 issue.

NOTE: I don’t endorse any beauty or health treatments recommended by Takarasiennes. Translation is for information purposes only.

BIHODOKI/Beauty behind the curtain - Manaki Reika (Moon Troupe)

How much effort is hidden behind the beauty of the musumeyaku…!? This corner pursues those secrets.

Inside

Relax:

I like putting on music while reading magazines. The music depends on how I feel at the time; Western music, classical music, Disney songs…

Skin Care:

The most important thing for me is cleansing and face-washing. Once I’ve taken my makeup off I’ll wash my face with a foaming cleanser and then rinse with lukewarm water. After that, I’ll get the water off with a tissue and apply a beauty serum called ‘Takami Skin Peel’. Then, I’ll put on a skin toner, a milk-based lotion, and cold cream, in that order. One important thing is that after putting the skin toner on with a cotton ball, I’ll rub it in with my fingers to make sure it all gets soaked into my skin!

Bath:

My metabolism is poor, so I always make sure to really soak in the bath. Sometimes I’ll massage in the bath, or put in baking soda packs… Some bath powders I really like are Ayura and Kikiyu, but sometimes I will just put in salt and rice wine. It will make the water really soft and your skin really smooth, so I recommend trying it!

Hair Care:

The Loretta line of products works really well with my hair, so I use their hair oil and night care hair cream, and a lot of other things. When I have blond hair, I’ll regularly go to a salon for treatments. When I get out of the bath at home, I focus on getting my hair dry as quickly as possible. Also, I think keeping my scalp supple is also good for my hair’s health, so when I’m in the bath I make sure not to skip doing a scalp massage!

Body Care:

Musumeyaku use foundation over their whole body, so it’s very drying. Therefore, in summertime I apply an inexpensive toner generously all over right after getting out of the bath. In wintertime, before I’m totally dry I’ll apply baby oil and skin cream - moisturizing is vital!

Meals:

I’m very proactive in making sure I get plenty of fruits and enzymes. Since its not good to chill one’s insides in the morning, I’ll drink a cup of plain warm water; Gussan (Harumi Yuu) and Toki (Kanoha), who are a class below me, recommended that. In the past, I used to diet, but after all it’s better for my body to eat proper meals, so now I make sure to eat a balanced diet. But even so, I really love sweets, so sometimes Gussan will chide me and say ‘you know you shouldn’t eat only sweets, right?’ (laughs)

Outside

Makeup:

I have a very young-looking face, and sometimes it’s very helpful, but sometimes I struggle with it… But, as I’ve been in Takarazuka longer, the amount of mature characters I’ve been given has increased, so due to that I’ve challenged myself with many new makeup techniques. If I use too heavy a base it’s bad for my skin, so when I am not working I’ll use just a primer and concealer. If I put foundation on, I’ll use a cushion type or a liquid foundation and just put it on the areas I think need it. I only use enough powder to set everything. For eye makeup, I don’t use eyeshadow just on my top lid, but also below my eye, and I use eyeliner on my eyelash line. My under-eye lashes are fairly thick, so when I put mascara on, I take care that it doesn’t end up looking too black all around my eyes. On my lips, I really love this lip product called ISKIN Lip Addict; it makes my lips look nice and plump so I like it a lot.

Hair Style:

My face is a bit ‘simple’ (laughs), so if I make my hairstyle too complex, my face will end up overshadowed. Therefore, I usually like to do rather simple hairstyles. Today, I wanted to do something a bit playful to match my outfit, so I made a high ponytail and braided it, and then used my hair to hide the elastic.

Clothes and Accessories:

A lot of the time when choosing clothes what I focus on most is balancing out the length of my neck. Of course, when I am working, I wear musumeyaku-style clothes, but when I am off work I’ll wear anything that makes me thing ‘that’s so cute!’. I owned this black shirt I wore today for ages, but never had a chance to wear it, so I thought ‘perhaps it would look cute with this red turtleneck?’ and tried it out today. If I wear simple clothes, I can wear accessories that are a bit larger, so I enjoy matching them together.

Nail:

I change it depending on the role, but on the whole, I like simple shades like beige or pale pink. I worry about my nails drying out, so I apply a lot of nail oil.

Perfume:

I like Jo Malone perfume. My favorites are ‘Nectarine Blossom and Honey’ and ‘Mimosa and Cardamom’. Often I’ll put it on at night before I go to sleep, so I wake up with the gentle scent. Sometimes I’ll use a body cream in the same scent, or sometimes I’ll use different scents of perfume and body cream. I enjoy mixing together the different scents.

#takarazuka #article translation #mag: graph #sienne: manaki reika #troupe: tsuki

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write-havoc · 6 years ago

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This Is How I Disappear Ch. 41

Summary: A girl named Chuck finds herself in the exact place she doesn't want to be, living with violent men in a desolate nursing home. After her former gym teacher finds her, will he be the savior she was looking for?

Fandom: The Walking Dead AU

Pairing: Negan/Original Female Character

Status: Completed (story continues in The Flame Is Gone, The Fire Remains)

Contains: swearing, violence, sexual assault, blood, smut

Intended for readers 18+ of age only

Masterlists in my bio

“Baby girl?” Negan’s gentle voice rouses Chuck from her sleep.

Chuck opens her still heavy eyelids and turns her head to look at Negan, sitting beside her on the edge of the bed. “Hmm?” she croaks.

Negan slowly pulls down the blankets to expose Chuck’s naked torso and rubs his hand over her stomach. “I’m gonna head out to Alexandria in a little bit,” he says quietly. “Just wanted to see my babies before I fuckin’ left.”

Chuck smiles up at him and holds her arms out, wordlessly asking Negan to lean down to her. He accepts and bends his body down to place a kiss on Chuck’s neck, making her giggle lazily.

“You wanna fuck real quick?” he whispers in her ear.

She laughs lightly. “Too tired.”

He shifts so that he’s looking down at her face. “I’ll do all the work,” he says with a smirk and a wink.

She laughs lightly with barely open eyes and places her hand on her stomach. “We’re too sleepy, daddy.”

“Fuuuuuck,” he groans. “You’re busting out that daddy shit right after you tell me you don’t wanna fuck? That’s just cruel, little girl.”

She swats him on the shoulder lightly, but still laughs. “I meant because you’re the daddy of the baby.”

“Sure, sure, little girl.” He kisses her lips with a smile on this face then shifts downward toward her stomach. “Daddy’ll be back later, baby,” he whispers into it before placing a sweet kiss right above her belly button. He stands from the bed and grabs Lucille from where she was leaning on the nightstand.

“Tell Aaron I love him,” Chuck rasps out then turns to lay on her side and cuddle into the pillows.

“Alright. Love you, sweetheart.”

“Love you, Negan.” She falls back asleep before she even hears the door close.

Later that day, Chuck decides to go back down to the gardens since she had such a good time there yesterday. On her way there, she bumps into Simon.

“Oh, hey, Simon,” she greets him cheerily.

“Hey there, kiddo. I was just gonna get some gelato from the kitchen. Wanna join?”

“Uh, yes! Of course I do!” She laughs and follows him to the kitchen. When they get there, they are greeted by a kindly older lady named Hettie.

“Simon!” Hettie calls out from behind the island in the center of the kitchen. It looks as if she had just finished putting the gelato into containers to be put in one of the freezers. “Right on time!” She looks to Chuck. “And you must be Chuck!” She walks over to Chuck and places her hands on Chuck’s arms. “Look at you!” She holds Chuck’s arms out and looks her up and down. “You’re all skin and bones, girl! We need to get some meat on you for that baby.” She goes back to the island and starts to get bowls ready for Simon and Chuck.

“I think I have enough meat,” Chuck responds with a giggle.

“What flavor you want, sugar?” the older woman asks. “Vanilla, cardamom, strawberry-“

“Ooh strawberry!” Chuck calls out quickly.

“Make that two,” Simon adds with a smile.

Hettie starts to scoop the ice cream into the bowls. “That boy right there,” she waves the scoop at Simon before scooping out some more gelato, “he is gonna weigh four hundred pounds if he keeps eating this stuff everyday. All these batches I’ve been making from Hilltop’s regular milk deliveries and he’s been eating most of it all by himself!”

Chuck laughs. “I can’t blame him. If I had known you make it all the time, I would’ve been down here eating it too!”

“Well I’m not gonna grouse about you coming down here, sugar! If that baby wants something sweet, you give it to him!” Hettie hands one of the bowls to Chuck and then the other to Simon.

Chuck plunges her spoon into the frozen treat and brings it to her mouth. The second she tastes it, she can’t help but smile. Negan had brought up some of the vanilla gelato once or twice for Chuck, but the strawberry has quickly become her favorite. “This is amazing!” Chuck exclaims after she swallows her bite.

“Well, sugar, I will always have a batch down here ready just for you!”

Chuck giggles. “Don’t tell me that! I’ll be down here all the time stuffing my face!”

Everyone laughs.

“Well tell that skinny husband of yours that he’s more than welcome down here, too. I know that man can eat, but he’s still skin and bones!” Hettie jokes with a wink.

“I’ll let him know you’ll be expecting him!” Chuck replies before she and Simon bid their farewells.

They take their bowls of gelato outside to sit at Chuck’s picnic table.

“Don’t tell Hettie,” Simon says as he takes a bite, “but I’ve definitely gained some weight because of this shit.” He points his spoon at the bowl.

“I’m probably going to, too,” Chuck jokes with a laugh.

They sit at the table enjoying their treats for a few minutes before a group of young teenagers walks past.

“Hello, Miss Chuck,” one boy, who Chuck recognizes as the boy she helped at the party, greets with a wave.

“Hello, Jack.” Chuck waves back as the teens all look at Jack like he’s a superstar for knowing her.

Simon chuckles when they walk out of earshot. “What was all that?”

“I talked to that kid at the party.” She shrugs. “It’s kinda weird having people know who I am. I’m used to everyone just ignoring me all the time.”

“You’re part of the upper echelon now, kiddo. Everyone knows you’re Negan’s number one wife.”

Chuck gives Simon an incredulous look. “Number one? Why would everyone think that?” Chuck and everyone on the fifth floor knows that that’s true, but Chuck doesn’t know why anyone else would know that. Or even really care about it.

Simon gives a shrug and scratches at his cheek. “They saw the way he was with you at the party. And...” he clears his throat, “everyone knew he never wanted kids with any of the other women...”

Chuck just nods, not wanting to push the uncomfortable subject further with Simon.

There is an awkward silence for a few moments until Simon changes the subject. “So, where were you headed before I hijacked you?”

“The gardens. I liked working with the plants yesterday. It felt like I was actually helping out around here.” Chuck gives Simon a little smile and takes a bite.

“Those lady gardeners seem... funny,” he comments with a smirk.

“Yeah.” Chuck giggles. “They’re pretty crazy. But I like them.” She takes another bite and swirls it around her mouth before swallowing. “You know, you can actually socialize with the workers a little. Just because they’re not saviors, that doesn’t mean they’re not worthwhile.”

He looks down at his lap for a moment like he’s guilty. “I know. I know some of us saviors can be...”

“Snobby?” Chuck provides.

He chuckles. “Yeah. Snobby... to the workers. It’s not that I don’t think the workers are worthwhile...” he pauses to find the right words, “I guess it’s pretty shitty, but it’s just the way it is here. We keep separate from them.” He shrugs and takes a bite.

“It doesn’t have to be that way. You can make an example. Get out there and show the other saviors that it isn’t ‘us and them’. It’s just ‘us’. People will follow your lead.”

He swallows his bite and throws his spoon into his now empty bowl. “You’re probably right.”

“I generally am,” she jokes back.

They’re silent for a few moments as Chuck finishes her ice cream.

“Are you... feeling okay?” Simon suddenly asks.

“Yes,” Chuck answers with confusion in her tone. “Do I look sick or something?”

“No, no. You look fine. I just mean... with the ...baby. Is it all... okay?”

Chuck and Simon haven’t really talked about the pregnancy since he first found out. She knew that it would take a while for him to come to terms with it, so she never wanted to discuss it until he was comfortable.

“Yeah. Everything’s fine.”

“Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?” he asks somewhat hesitantly.

“Not yet. A few more weeks and we should know.”

He nods. “Oh.” He scratches the back of his neck and clears his throat. “Me and Negan... We don’t really talk about it. The... baby. He, uh... he doesn’t really talk about you much with me. I’ve heard him talk with some of the guys...” He rubs his hand down his cheek and looks away. “He seems really happy with you. And proud of the baby.”

Chuck lets out a deep breath. “I know things are... weird between all of us. And I totally understand you not wanting anything to do with us,” Chuck puts her hand on her belly and looks down at it before looking back to Simon, “but I hope you will be there with us. At least a little bit,” she says hopefully.

“I-I want to be there for you guys. I do. Negan’s my oldest friend. And I ...care about you, too. I want to be in your baby’s life. I want you guys to talk to me about him, or her. Whatever it’s gonna be.”

Chuck can’t help but smile as her eyes well up with tears. “That makes me so happy, Simon. My baby won’t grow up with a lot of family. But you can be like ‘Uncle Simon’.”

His lips curl up into a smile. “I’d like that.” He clears his throat. “Can I... Can I touch...” He points to her belly from across the table.

“Yeah. Sure. There’s not really much there yet.”

Simon comes around the table to sit next to Chuck. He slowly places his hand on her bump as he stares down at it. “When can you feel it move?” he whispers.

“Not for a while yet. Maybe a couple of weeks. Maybe longer, depending...” Chuck gives a shrug.

Simon backs away from her and chuckles at a thought. “When my sister had twins, she got fuckin’ huge . She gained about a hundred pounds I think.” He laughs, but it turns sad. “I never touched any other pregnant bellies besides hers.”

Chuck nods, not exactly sure what to say after that. “She...?”

“I don’t know,” he answers the question before Chuck even asks it. “She moved out to Colorado with my mom about a year before the end.” He shrugs. “So I don’t know what happened with them. I don’t have any family left...” he trails off.

Chuck just nods, still at a loss for what to say.

Simon sniffles then clears his throat with a cough. “Why don’t I escort you over to the gardens?” He stands from the bench and helps Chuck up as well, leading them both in the direction of the gardens after.

“The bowls?” Chuck looks back and points to the mess they’ve left.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll get them when I come back around.”

——— Negan’s POV ———

Getting to Alexandria is slow fuckin’ going. It should’ve only taken about a fuckin’ hour, but two hours in, and we’re still not there. We’ve stopped four fuckin’ times to clear shit off the road. And now, we have a goddamn herd passing by. It’s not huge, but it’s big enough that it would waste too many fuckin’ bullets to clear out.

What the fuck is up with these herds? We have never had this many damn run ins in such a short amount of time with groups of the fuckin’ dead before now. What the fuck is making them herd up? Maybe it’s us. Clearing out all the stragglers and leaving just the herds. Well, what-the-fuck-ever it is, we’re gonna have to find a better way to deal with them.

We finally get to Alexandria’s gates and pull through. Rick’s right there with his lapdog Daryl waiting for me to exit my truck.

I open my door and step out. “Well, well, boys!” I call out to them. “I had a fuckin’ interesting drive over here!” I close my door and walk over to them with Dwight following me.

“Why’s that?” Rick asks in a kinda bitchy tone already.

“Your road was shit! But we can discuss that later.” I swing Lucille up onto my shoulder. “We headed to your humble abode, Ricky boy?”

Rick gives me a little nod and leads the way. When we get to his porch, I see that boy of his sitting on the floor playing with a little girl that can’t be more than two years old. Rick opens the door and turns back to me.

“I think we can do this by ourselves, can’t we?” Rick asks as he looks back to the two men behind us.

I look back to Dwight and Daryl, too, but I don’t say anything. I turn back to Rick and and suck on my teeth with a grimace on my face. I’m pretty sure this fucker isn’t gonna try to fuckin’ kill me, but I don’t want him to think I’ve let my guard down.

“I’m showing you some faith, Negan. I’ll even let you bring your bat inside.”

“Lucille,” I correct him. “And you’re goddamn right she’s coming inside with me. I would never leave my lady behind.”

Rick looks fuckin’ pissed which amuses the shit outta me. But then I remember why I’m here. And what Chuck asked of me. She wants me to play nice so... I’ll fuckin’ try.

“But you’re right. A little faith goes a long fuckin’ way.” I turn around to Dwight. “Stay out here with your new fuckin’ buddy. Braid each other’s hair or some shit.”

Both men give give me the stink eye which makes me laugh. I turn away from them to follow Rick into his living room. He sits his ass down on his couch, so I sit in one of the armchairs sorta in front of him.

“So, Rick,” I lean Lucille on the side of my chair, “what’s the first order of business?”

“I’ve talked to my people,” Rick starts. “We’ve agreed that trading with your group is in our best interest.”

“Hmm,” I respond. “The whole ‘in your best interest’ part is fuckin’ obvious because you guys are in a goddamn pickle, right? You’re low on food and that stuff you’ve planted in those brand new greenhouses I spied outside won’t feed you guys. At least not yet.” I lean forward in the chair. “Now, the whole ‘trading’ part...” I scrunch up my face, “what exactly do you have to trade that is equal in value to the fuckin’ food that you will no doubt be asking me to provide?”

Rick scratches his neck. “We have workers. We can help you with scavenging, helping out around your settlement-“

“I don’t need fuckin’ men, Rick. In case you haven’t noticed, most of the guys that I brought with me today aren’t the guys I brought here the first time I came. That is because I have a shit ton of men that I have at my disposal for these little excursions. And that’s in addition to my own fuckin’ workers that I have back home running my domestic shit.” I hold out my hands and shrug my shoulders. “But it hasn’t escaped my attention that you fuckers are well fuckin’ armed. If you want to talk about lightening your armory, I’ll be more than happy to oblige.”

“No,” he responds quickly with a shake of his head. “We can’t do that. We won’t trade our weapons.”

I shrug. “Then what? I’m not a fuckin’ charity, Rick. I got my own people to provide for. I need something in return.”

“I-“ He lets out a hard breath. “Our arrangement can be temporary, whatever it is. We can get back on our feet. We just need time to grow the food. Scavenge for more. We will help out with whatever you want to work off the debt. Just say what you want and we’ll do it. I promise.”

I mull it over for a minute. “Well. You’re in fuckin’ luck, Ricky boy. It just so happens that I’ve come up with a few plans for my corner of the world. Which you find yourself adjacent to. Now,” I gesture to him, “I’m sure Aaron told you where the fuck The Sanctuary is and I already know that you know where Hilltop is. Those settlements along with yours make a fuckin’ triangle. And, eventually, I want that whole triangle fuckin’ cleared and blocked off from the dead. I want it to be completely safe to travel between our groups. It’s a fuckin’ monumental task and it’s gonna take a long ass time, but that’s what I’m gonna work towards.”

Rick nods. “We can help with that.”

“You’re goddamn right you’re gonna help with that because it’s gonna benefit your people, too. I wanna be able to travel between our groups fuckin’ easily. And safely.” I run my hand down my face and continue. “I want this shit started asap. But this plan of mine is gonna really kick into high gear in the winter.”

Rick looks at me like I’m fuckin’ insane. Which, normally, would be the case. Winters are a lot fuckin’ harder now that society’s fuckin’ dead, so getting anything done is really fuckin’ hard.

“I know it sounds fuckin’ dumb, but it’s not. Those slow ass dead fucks are even fuckin’ slower in the cold. If you haven’t noticed.”

“I came here from Georgia. I haven’t spent a winter this far north in my whole life.” He chuckles before he can remember that he kinda hates me.

“Last winter,” I start to explain, “I had my men go out after the temps dipped below freezing for a few days in a row. You see, the dead don’t make their own fuckin’ heat like you and me. When it freezes outside, those fuckers freeze, too. And when they freeze, they can’t fuckin’ move. My guys could just pick them off easy as pie. We cleared a shit ton of places pretty damn quickly.”

“We can do that,” Rick replies. “My people, we can coordinate with your people and help out.”

“I want to get shit blocked off before the snow comes. Block roads, dig trenches. Try to keep as many of the dead from entering my goddamn area. Then, when winter comes, we can start clearing shit.”

Rick nods. “I’ll talk to my people. But this is a good plan. Clearing the entire area... It’ll be better for everyone. We can actually start something more here. Something more than just surviving.”

I lean back in the chair and rest my elbows on the arms. “You need to start by keeping those dead fucks away from your home. We had to wait out a herd a few miles away from your gate.”

Rick gives me a knowing look. “We just led a herd off yesterday.” He shakes his head. “It seems like there’s more of them around now.”

“I’ve noticed that, too. We’ll have to handle that shit when we get to it. Which hopefully will be in the winter when they’ll be fuckin easier to put down.”

Rick nods. “Maybe before then we can lead them all into a gully, some place they can’t get out of until winter. Then when they freeze, we can take care of all of them easily.” He scratches his beard then looks up at me. “And I think I know a place. There’s this quarry not far from here that’s pretty well blocked off.”

Shit, that’s smart. Lead all those dead fucks to one place and kill them all in one go when they freeze. Not that I’m gonna fuckin’ tell him that’s a good fuckin’ idea. “That might work.” I cock my head to the side like I’m still not too sure about it. “I’ll get some plans in the works. We can do this all strategically. Make a grid and get blockades and shit put up systematically. Then we’ll coordinate. You folks can stay up this way. Me and my men will be around my shit, then we’ll meet in the middle. And I will supplement your efforts with some food until you get your own shit going.”

“Good.” Rick slicks back his hair then looks at me after a moment. “Aaron told me about his niece being pregnant with your child.”

Fuckin’ great. Of course he fuckin’ did.

At least I kinda trust Aaron not to do anything that will put Chuck in any danger. So if he trusts Rick enough to let him know about Chuck, then maybe I shouldn’t freak the fuck out about it.

But I still don’t fuckin’ like it.

I let out a huff and bite down on my bottom lip as I glare at Rick.

“I get why you wouldn’t spread that around, but you have nothing to worry about with us, Negan. We want to work with you.”

“I don’t wanna take any fuckin’ chances, Ricky boy,” I respond truthfully. “Wouldn’t you do anything to protect your woman if she was fuckin’ pregnant?”

I can tell that I hit a nerve because he takes in a sharp breath and looks down. “My wife... from before... She got pregnant after all this started.”

I realize that the woman he’s with now must not be his wife. So I already know where this story is gonna fuckin’ end up. “The little girl with your son outside. She your daughter?” I ask when he pauses. She must be his fuckin’ kid, too.

He nods. “Her name’s Judith. Lori was my wife. I got her some place safe for the baby. I even found a doctor- Well, he was a vet. But he was trained. I tried...” He takes a deep breath. “It didn’t matter. She died in childbirth. And I couldn’t get to her. Carl had to... finish it.”

“Fuck,” I whisper. “That’s fucked up.”

Rick lifts his eyebrows to agree. “I want to make this place safe, just like you do. Alexandria, The Sanctuary, Hilltop... It shouldn’t matter. We- All of us need to work together to make this world safer for them.”

I nod. That’s all I want now. To give Chuck and the baby everything I possibly can. To make the world better so my kid can have a good fuckin’ life. “Can I see her? Judith?”

“Yeah.”

I follow Rick out to the porch and set Lucille on one to the chairs there. “Look at this precious girl!” I bend down to pick the little girl up and she doesn’t even fuss. But I can see that Carl and Daryl are both watching me carefully. They calm the fuck down when Judith starts to run her little fingers through my beard as I bounce her up and down. “And what is your name, little miss?”

She giggles at my voice and pats her hand on my mouth.

I pretend like I’m gonna bite her fingers and she laughs harder. “Oh, you are adorable! Your daddy told me that your name is Judith.” I boop her on the nose and she nods her head with a giggle. “Well, my name is Negan. Can you say that?”

“Nay-ghin!” she says excitedly.

“Shit, that’s close enough!”

“Shit!” she picks up right away.

“Oh, fuck! Don’t say that. Shit! don’t say ‘fuck’ either.”

“Fffff-“ She starts laughing too hard before she can finish the word.

“Okay, okay.” Rick comes forward and takes her from me. “Please don’t teach my little girl swear words.” He tries to sound all stern, but he’s holding back a laugh. Carl’s giggling his fuckin’ head off, too.

Judith holds her arms back out to me. “Nay-ghin!”

“Your girl loves me, Ricky boy!”

Rick actually fuckin’ groans.

“What the fuck’s wrong with that?! I’m such a fuckin’ teddy bear!”

Carl laughs his damn head off at that. “Your face is priceless, dad!”

Judith is still squirming around in her dad’s hands, so Rick hands her back to me.

“There we go.” I settle her in my arms and she rests her little cheek on my shoulder. “You sleepy, little miss?”

Her only answer is to bring her little fist up to her face, which definitely is a ‘yes’. I start to rock her gently and she falls asleep pretty fuckin’ quick. “Shit, I might need to get me a little vacation home here,” I say quietly.

I see Aaron approach us and walk up onto the porch. “It looks like Judith made a new friend,” he comments with a smile.

“I’m gonna pass her off to you, big bro.” I hold her out to Carl and he takes her. “I gotta talk to you before I leave,” I say to Aaron.

“I was coming here to talk to you, actually,” Aaron directs back at me.

We, along with Dwight trailing behind, start to walk back towards my trucks.

“I just wanted to ask about Brendon? Is he-“

“Dead?” I cut in. “Yeah, he’s fuckin’ dead.”

“Did Chuck see it?” Aaron asks.

I rub at my face. “Not closeup. I told her to go inside, but she fuckin’ watched from the window anyway.”

“She’s okay, though?”

“She’s fuckin’ great, actually,” I answer. “Told me to tell you that she loves you.”

He smiles. “I’d like to see her again.”

“You can come back with me,” I look down at him, “as long as you help me out with something.”

He looks back at me fuckin’ skeptically. “What is it?”

“Nothing too hard. Just a little mission. Won’t take too long.”

“Can I take someone with me?”

“Really?” I ask with attitude. “You don’t fuckin’ trust me?”

“I trust you, okay?” he bites back. “I just want someone else there.”

“Fine.”

Aaron nods. “Okay. So what are we doing?”

“Why don’t you go get a bag packed. I’ll fill you in on the fuckin’ way.”

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