#i am nothing if not roasting him crispy

[crueliste]

i need to give love to my rp group for a bit but proton always shows off his ass and face in poses bc those are his only good qualities

[cf8wrk4u-us]

I am so honored that my submission was accepted for this zine! The size of it had to be shortened in order to comfortable fit all the amazing art and stories, but I'm still happy how this all turned out ☺️

Please look at this amazing TOA Zine, a real love letter from and to all of us fans! And please feel free the read the full story submission below✨️

It Began With A Name

The troll that would be later known as Gunmar never did understand the importance of family. He came into to this world alone, crawling from the dead remains of Trollkinds first Heartstone full grown and very very hungry.

The first years of his life were basically a blur as he roamed about the continent. Killing when he became hungry or defensive, the most delicious meats not coming from the wild animals of the woodlands or the domesticated livestock of the fields but of the humans who toiled in them. Delicious fleshy-bags of meat, that crunched so satisfyingly between his jaws.

At times he would meet supposed others of his kind, many of those Trolls who would just run from his presence or others who attack and curse his existence. He paid no mind, such weaklings were below him. Below his strength. He was the strongest and deadliest being in this world, nothing else mattered but himself and the Hunger he proved to satisfy.

That is till he met HIM.

Their encounter wasn't anything new to him, countless groups of trolls and their leaders would approach him. Accusing him of invading their territory or attempting to forcibly recruit him into their tribe. No matter which they all fell before the deadly might of his bare claws.

But he was different, Orglak the Oppressor was a troll whose strength not only matched his own but his skill with the blade a deadly force against him. Try as he might, the dark stone troll couldn’t land a significant blow against the Gum-Gum leader who smirked as he dodged each swipe of his claws as if he was still a clumsy newborn. Soon enough Gunmar hide burned with each slash made by Orglak’s legendary Decimaar Blade, he was on the ground forced to look at the Gum-Gum leader feeling the sword just under his neck.

“Your a lot stronger than I gave you credit for, child of the dead Heartstone” sneered Orglak, his blood red eyes glowing with interest “Promise to kneel before me and you’ll live to see the next night”

The dark troll's only response was a snarl as he swiped the blade tip away, cutting him badly as he lunged once more at the Gum-Gum leader. Before the sword hilt hit him square between his horns and the world went black.

He woke up to the sound of crackling fire and the smell of roasted meat, rearing up from the ground he saw Orglak sitting by the fire beside him while the soldiers from his party set up camp. He was ready to attack but no sooner did he move Orglak just casually flashed his sword making him hesitate. For the first time in his life the troll has encountered a being far stronger than him, it was frustrating and unnerving.

Especially when Orglak chuckled at him.

“I see you're awake, good, good” he said before lifting something from the fire.

His mouth watered at the leg of meat, its juices dripping from the crispy flesh. He moved to take it from the Gum-Gum but was roughly grabbed by his horns.

“Wait” Orglak said sharply

The troll growl turned into a whine as he held up his hands to silently ask for the meat. Satisfied, the Gum-Gum chieftain placed it into his waiting hands. He sunk his teeth eagerly in the food but he noticed that the grip of his horns didn’t fade. Orglak claws moved from his horns to then gently pet at the top of his hair.

“Hmm….” Orglak hummed in thought “....Gunmar…”

The troll perked up with a mouthful of meat.

Orglak chuckled darkly as he patted his head “Gunmar! Yes! A fine name”!

And that was how the troll born from the first Heartstone was named Gunmar.

Soon enough Gunmar did kneel before the Gum-Gum chieftain, who was now his leader. He learned a great deal of things from the troll and his tribe. How to wield a sword was a start, then it was learning to lead raids and how to subdue other tribes, and then who their enemies were.

Turns out those fleshbags were a lot more troublesome than Gunmar thought, especially with their allies. The mage Merlin and his foolish little follower the Trollhunter.

Yes Gunmar learned a great many things, even the benefits of living in a tribe like this.What power it gave one to command so many trolls, ones who unhesitantly served you through loyalty or fear.

But still Gunmar couldn’t understand families.

At worst it seemed like a treasonous thing to allow outside loyalty from one chieftain to another, and at the least it seemed like such a weakness. Tying yourselves to someone that could just be used against you.

But if he could see himself close enough to call someone as close as kin…Gunmar would think of Orglak.

Orglak who named him, Orglak who showed him how to swing a sword, Orglak who taught him the most proficient way to butcher his enemies, Orglak who recognized his strength and made him his general, Orglak…who would now stare at him with suspicious and newly formed contempt..

Not a surprise given that Gunmar had recently been far more bolder in his dissatisfaction in Orglak policies regarding how their tribe was run. The Gum-Gum’s had the potential to be more than just a band of marauders but a mighty military force that could rule this continent, but Orglak kept hesitating or more so kept refusing to let Gunmar make any changes on how things were done.

Gunmar was a threat to Orglak power, that was something every member of the tribe could see. So in the end they came to blows.

Orglak was as strong as before but Gunmar was now even stronger. And at the end of the fight while Gunmar might have lost one of his eyes, Orglak lost his head.

But as the crowd cheered and hollered at his victory, Gunmar couldn’t help but stare at the gray rubble that had once been his leader. Seeming to debate something the new Gum-Gum chieftain reached down to take a piece of stone from the pile.

Gunmar wasn’t sure what he was thinking, what he wanted exactly, but a part of him couldn’t see the legacy of the great Orglak the Oppressor fade from this world forever.

The first troll who took him from the wilds of the woods and showed him his true potential.

So in the privacy of his tent Gunmar held the stone he acquired before reaching at his chest and pulling off a piece of his own flesh. Then just as he observed other troll couples do during their union ceremonies he combined the stones together between his hands. Breathing hard Gunmar forced the life energy, the one that thrummed deep in his flesh from the first Heartstone, and sent it into the newly made Birthstone.

It was sometime in the later months Gunmar was looking at the Birthstone in interest, with the egg wobbling back and forth inside the nest he made it.

All of a sudden a tiny little fist burst from the stone and all at once a mound of dark fur tumbled out. Gunmar’s one eye was wide as the tiny creature practically hissed and spat around, its pudgy paws swatting at the air. The warlord reached over to brush the ebony locks that matched his own but soon the little red eyes focused on him. Gunmar stopped, sure that there was a look of recognition in those familiar crimson eyes. But instead the little babe snapped onto his fingers, already so hungry.

A rumble emerged from Gunmars chest, then turned into a full belly laugh.

The whelp stopped his chewing to stare at him curiously.

“Bular” Gunmar said slowly, tasting the name of his new son.

Maybe Gunmar still didn’t understand the meaning of family, but he did know the importance of HIS family. His son, who was now a part of the bright and glorious future he planned on creating for the both of them.

“Yes, Bular” said the warlord tickling his dagger like nails under the whelps chin making him giggle “What a fine name”!

[lindsaywesker]

Good morning!  I hope you slept well and feel rested?  Currently sitting at my desk, in my study, attired only in my blue towelling robe, enjoying my first cuppa of the day (green tea!)  Welcome to the weekend!

Wow!  Here we are again: Friday!  Where did that week go?  No, seriously, where did that week go? 

First of all, many thanks to everyone that got involved with Throwback Thursday on my page.  Yesterday’s word was BIRTHDAY and we all have at least one good memory of a birthday celebration, although birthdays – at my age – are definitely tempered with sadness.  Absent friends and all those memories!

On Thursday, I worked, as normal, and today will be even busier.  To be honest, most of yesterday was spent thanking people!  So many kind and thoughtful birthday messages.  Definitely more than a thousand!  I definitely haven’t got through them all!  I got presents, I got cards, I got phone calls, I got video messages, I got some saucy photos, and I had a video call with a woman I haven’t spoken to in almost 30 years.  All and all, a very moving day.  I am bloody lucky to have so many good people in my life. 

The Trouble asked me what I wanted for my birthday and I said, “Nothing.”  What do I need?  Nothing.  Then, I said, “All I want you to do is cut my toenails.”  So, after my shower yesterday morning, that’s what she did.  That’s all I really needed.

At about 5.00, my son arrived home from work with goodies he knows I like.  First, I gobbled down the honey-roast cashews,  and then I polished-off the crispy M&Ms.  Not exactly health food but it was my birthday!  I’ll do the Cadbury’s Fruit & Nut today with my lunch!   

Really hope you can join me tomorrow at 1.00 p.m. for ‘The A-Z Of Mi-Soul Music’: The Letter R (Part Nine).  The final part of The Letter R.  No more R acts for another three years!   

Straight after the show, I will be off to The White Lion.  We’re going to have dinner at The White Lion, which is always delicious (Lisa’s Kitchen), and then Stevie and I are going to share the 7.00-10.00 slot.  It’s a Scorpio birthday party, mate, nothing too heavy and serious, just happy, horny music!  If you are anywhere near Streatham High Road, please pop in for a drink, if only one, then I can grab a selfie with you.   

My day of rest will be Sunday.  That will make The Mighty Josiah very happy.  We’re going nowhere, so we will be at his beck and call.  Even if it’s cold, rainy and windy, he will want to go to the local park and, dutifully, Papa will take him. 

Have a fabulous and funky Friday!  I love you all.  You’re probably thinking, “You don’t even know me!” but, if people can hate for no reason, why can’t I love?

[copperxxgalileo]

By the way Aaron reacted, Copper wished that he hadn't said anything, hadn't let on that he had put everything together; the last thing Copper wanted was to make Aaron feel uncomfortable. "You have nothing to be sorry for," Copper assured them. "I didn't mean to make it weird, I was just surprised. That's...heavy. I'm sorry for what you've had to go through." He offered Aaron a reassuring smile, hoping to convey that he didn't think poorly of Aaron because of what he'd endured. Actually it was quite the opposite. "I could help you with two of those things," Copper replied with a laugh. "I'm not much of a cook, unless it's pizza. And I'm actually a writer, or I was, so...you know, language is sort of my thing. So I could help you with reading too." Copper didn't know if Aaron couldn't read at all or if his reading was just poor, but either way, he was willing to try. "You're not hopeless, Aaron," Copper replied seriously. "You're not hopeless at all." And then he smiled, and despite how troubling Aaron's past was, Copper was glad the other had confided in him.

Grinning at Aaron, Copper responded, "Well I guess you'll be finding out just how good I am at massages then. Though now I'm worried I've given you false expectations." And then he laughed, hopefully shaking off that last bit of awkwardness. A bit later at the ice cream place, Copper gasped dramatically when Aaron said they didn't know what a s'more is. "Oh my God, Aaron, we've got to get you to try one," Copper exclaimed. "It's like...incredible, one of the best things you can have in your mouth. So you roast a marshmallow around a fire, usually at a bonfire or while camping or something, and you get it nice and toasty. Or if you're like me, you just stick it in the fire and let it burn for awhile until it's charred and crispy on the outside and gooey on the inside. Then you break a graham cracker in two, slap a square of chocolate on it, or maybe a Reese's cup if you're feeling really adventurous, then the marshmallow, and then the other side of the graham, and then you've got one of the best things the human race has ever created. It's my mission to get you one now." Once he was done with his s'more-loving monologue, Copper laughed, shaking his head. "You'll understand when you try one, trust me." Looking at the different ice cream flavors, Copper said, "They've got chocolate of course, and yeah, the pink is strawberry. Another good choice. Alas, no s'more flavor, so I guess I'm getting the strawberry for myself."

"Yeah?" Aaron was surprised at the compliment, though perhaps that was because he'd felt so disconnected from his body for years that he struggled to look at it the way others might have. "I love learning new things, I have been doing that a lot the past few months." They added with a genuine smile. It was overwhelming at times to learn how much there was to see and do, out there in the normal world. But as much as it was terrifying, it also felt really good to have the freedom he wasn't sure he would ever have.

As they watched Copper's reaction, while the other most likely did the math, Aaron realized that they had said too much. It was easy to forget that even though it was a life they had been used to, most people would be shocked to hear about it. He averted his eyes momentarily, similarly unsure of what to say in the moment. "Sorry," He then managed, feeling a sense of guilt for putting his baggage onto someone he had just met. "I shouldn't have- You didn't want to know that." He let out an awkward chuckle and shook his head. "I'm okay. Or, you know, getting there. There's a lot of things to learn. Like swimming or reading or cooking." He laughed again, a little more genuinely this time. "I'm pretty hopeless, actually, don't listen to me."

While he couldn't be entirely sure about it, it appeared as if the mood had shifted again and Aaron assumed it was mostly due to shock on Copper's part. It didn't take a genius to figure out what had caused it. "Well, how else am I going to get rid of the stiffness in my neck?" He tried to ask as casually as possible, reaching for the back of his neck to rub it. After all, he had built up the courage to get a massage already, so he figured he should definitely get one.

Once they arrived at the ice cream shop, his eyes quickly tried to scan the signs for the pictures rather than the actual menu. "I don't know what that is," He admitted in response to Copper's preference. "But I like chocolate. Or- Or the pink kind. Is that strawberry?"

[tastesoftamriel]

Ju'rohn sera Talviel,

Pardon our poor writing skills.

It is rare among our kind to even speak an understandable language for n'waah.

We are curious about your knowledge. Each thing to know is better learnt than left, is it...

We do come from the Ashlands, deep inside the desolated lands of Molag Amur. We do remember dances, clashes, traditions, war, but merely feast and drinks from those times. We left decades ago, and only music helps us remembering how life was back then. Music and body paint.

Have you ever met an Ashlander, from the Erabenimsun maybe, that did not want to cut your throat at sight and accepted to share with you the words and secrets of his tribe? Mephala taught us the benefits from discretion, we may be asking for something dangerous. If you never had, then proceed carefully. Withdraw at sign of bothering.

Part of us talks about smells, spices and hunt, and I would appreciate to give him a piece of the past through meals he may have already experienced as a child.

We know it may be complicated.

We will be thankful and draw your name in the ashes when dawn arises.

Yours,

- Sangre

Under sun and sky, warmest greetings, friend!

While many outlanders are cautious and are treated as hostile by Ashlanders, I have worked hard over many years to create bonds of trust, respect, and friendship with those who are willing. Namely, I am on cordial terms with the Urshilaku and Mabrigash tribes, and while I am (and likely always will be) but an outsider they treat with caution, I have made solid bonds of friendship with these two groups.

I cemented our bonds of trust with trade of both goods and news from across Morrowind and Tamriel, and in exchange, I have been offered a glimpse into their ways of life, culture, and food customs. In particular, I have offered what I can in the way of aid to these tribes, who after many years still feel the effects of the Red Year. I bring medicine, ingredients, fabrics, weapons and tools, and more in open solidarity, expecting nothing in return. However, I have gained worlds of wisdom, hospitality, and Nirn's best roast guar recipe in return- far more than I could ever have hoped for.

Regarding a meal befitting Mephala, served in accordance to traditional Ashlander customs, I would recommend a traditional ceremonial nix-ox stew, due to the glory that comes with bringing down such a tough foe, and the slow and deliberate process that comes with cooking this dish (not recommended for novice cooks). You will also have to gather cliff racer eggs, now found predominantly in the Blacklight region, a handful of ash hoppers, guar milk, blood, and fat, and forage plants like fire fern, saltrice, any mushrooms of your choice, and ash yams.

Firstly, boil the fire fern with a good amount of Bitter Coast peppers, salt, and dried scuttle powder (I also recommend adding any favourite herbs and spices, wrapped in sedge grass packets). When the stock is thick and red, add the nix-ox meat and chopped ash yams, and bring the flame down, leaving the pot to simmer for two hours.

Fry together the mushrooms and ash hoppers in guar fat until crispy. Set aside as topping for your stew.

Whisk together the guar milk, blood, and cliff racer eggs until frothy, and slowly pour into the soup while stirring continously. Again, leave to simmer for another hour, then add the saltrice, allowing the stew to thicken. Add guar milk as needed if it starts to dry out. Pour in a good measure of shein until the stew is a deep, dark red. Bring the stew to a boil once again for thirty minutes, before finally serving.

Serve the stew piping hot and top with crispy mushrooms and ash hoppers. Best eaten with wickwheat or saltrice flatbread.

I hope that this long-winded message has not bored you. While we may not be well-acquainted thus far, I hope that I may pass on my sincerest wishes for peace and friendship with your tribe, and that if ever you desire it in the future, my company and expertise is yours. ~Talviel

[qianinterprises]

Smoke Detector

Pairing: Taeyong x Reader

Warnings: burnt food, tears, self-doubt

Scenario 1) when they (you) mess up cooking dinner for the first time.

Summary: you want to make dinner for Taeyong on your anniversary, but to do so requires help from the fourth best chef in NCT. Unfortunately, that isn't enough to stop disaster.

Genre: fluff, minor angst

Author's Notes: I am participating in the ficscafe scenario event! You may be seeing a few of these pop up as I am super excited to write these scenarios! Also, I apologize if this is kinda sucky. I wrote it in one sitting because I just had SO much inspiration, but there's a very good chance that this isn't very good.

Word Count: 2.6k

Tag List: @treasuretaeil @hachanbaecon

For as long as you could remember, you'd never learned how to properly put on a meal. Sure, you could make ramen in the microwave or throw together a sandwich, but anything involving more technical skills and you were screwed. For that reason, you never offered to cook for your boyfriend, which admittedly made you feel inadequate, but he was so an amazing chef that admitting your lack of skills was embarrassing to say the least.

Taeyong had no idea you had very little talent in the kitchen. You never told him about the time you nearly burnt down your mother's kitchen trying to make tacos or the time you forgot your scones in the oven until they were black as coal and hard as stones.

Taeyong's cooking skills were perfect. He could whip nothing into the most delectable meal you'd ever tasted. And that was daunting.

He should be with someone who he could partner with. Someone who could share the responsibility of the kitchen because you knew, when Taeyong got home after allday of schedules, the last thing he wanted to do was cook. But he did so anyway (unless you'd convinced him to get takeout). He never complained. Never questioned why you didn't cook for him. Never gave you anything but a happy smile and a soft peck on the lips.

Lee Taeyong was just too perfect. So perfect in fact that today, on the morning of your two year anniversary, he had taken the morning off and instead, bounced around in the kitchen cooking up all your favorite breakfast foods before surprising you in bed with them. He had roused you awake and placed the tray on your lap before crawling back in bed beside you and kissing your lips.

“Happy anniversary my love,” he had whispered against your lips.

The morning had been spent enjoying his well-crafted breakfast with sleepy cuddles and a slow, sensual, naked dance beneath the sheets before he had to peel himself away with a promise that he would be home in time to make dinner.

With that, he had left, and you spent the rest of the afternoon fretting. Taeyong had made breakfast. A breakfast that didn't consist of cheerios or toast. He had taken the time to use his morning to whip up a breakfast fit for a king. And now he was planning on two meals in one day!

Your stomach churned uncomfortably, fear gripping your heart. One day, Lee Taeyong would realize that he was too good for you, and then he’d be gone. Off to find someone better for him. Someone like Doyoung, who he could cook with without supervision. Or maybe even someone like Johnny, bigger than him, that could hold him tight and ease away all of his worries.

You were useless. At least, that’s what your subconsciousness whispered in the back of your head.

~

As two pm rolled around, you were tired of moping. Taeyong deserved someone better. So you would become better. That would just require a little bit (a lot) of help from someone who knew their way around the kitchen.

The first person you contacted was Kun, but when he didn’t respond, Doyoung became the next best thing. Quickly, you sent the male a quick text because you had no idea who Taeyong was scheduled with today.

‘Do you have 127 schedules today?’

Doyoung didn’t take long to text back.

‘Yeah, why?’

Always one to get to the point. But you liked that about Doyoung.

‘Just curious, wasn’t sure who Taeyong was scheduled with today.’

You huffed. The simplest choice went out the window. Had Doyoung been free, you would have invited the male over and had him help you cook a gorgeous dinner. Although part of you was glad you had to go with plan b. Plan b wouldn’t get irritated and yell at you quite as easily as Doyoung would.

‘How’s my favorite Dreamie?’ you sent, hoping Dreams schedules were clear that day because you were running out of options.

‘Jeno’s doing fine? Why?’

‘I’m not talking about Jeno, you nincompoop!’

These boys were going to be the death of you one of these days.

‘Haha, I know, what’s up? What do you need?’

‘Why do you assume I need something?’

‘-.-’

‘Fine. I need your help cooking dinner for Taeyong!’

It took the boy longer to respond and you assumed his answer was no when your phone began to ring. When you answered, he didn’t even give you time for a proper greeting.

“Why do you need my help?” Jaemin asked.

You let out a huff. None of the boys knew your dirty little secret, but you knew Jaemin (or Doyoung for that matter) would help you without an explanation.

“Because I can’t cook to save my life! And he cooks all the time! And I just want our anniversary to be special! Will you help me or not?!”

“How are you dating Taeyong hyung without knowing how to cook?!”

“Jaemin!” you whined, red creeping up to your cheeks.

He let out a breathy laugh.

“I can’t come over. Our managers gave us the next few days off and Renjun and Jeno have barricaded us all in here, but I can help you over the phone!”

Not exactly what you had in mind, but with Jaemin helping you, what could possibly go wrong?

~

Later on that evening after deciding to make something relatively simple for Taeyong, Jaemin helps you create a grocery list and sends you on your way. Grocery shopping was the easy part. You were exceptionally good at shopping. It was when you got back home that your hands began to clam up as you stood in the center of the kitchen, trying to mentally prepare yourself for whatever was about to happen.

Your phone rang in your pocket as you were shakily pulling a pan out, placing it on the stove. You fished out your phone and answered, Jaemin’s face popping onto your screen.

“Ready to get cooking?” he asked, a wide grin spreading across your face.

“I’m nervous,” you mumbled.

“Oh come on! You’ve got me here to guide you! It’ll be great!” you promised.

Hopefully, he was right.

“Ok so the first thing you need to do is heat up the pan over the stove. While that’s heating, start chopping the vegetables. Just be careful!”

Nodding, you turned on the stove. When nothing happened to sabotage you this early in the game, you let out a sigh of relief and set out chopping all of the vegetables that you’d bought, preparing a hearty, healthy, but tasty dish for the man that never ceased to give you everything you desired.

“Ok, now get the meat out of the fridge and put it in the pan.”

Nodding to him, you slid on a pair of rubber gloves and pulled the hamburger meat out of the refrigerator. Ripping open the packaging, you dumped the red meat into the now sizzling frying pan and let out a small sound of joy when you succeeded in not making too big of a mess.

“Great now-” there was a knock over the line and Jaemin’s attention turned from you to the door.

“What?” he asked.

“We’re going out to the sports bar down the road. Wanna come?” Jeno’s voice asked in the background.

Jaemin let out a whine in the back of his throat.

“I promised (y/n) noona that I’d help her make dinner for Taeyong hyung.”

“Sucks to be you!” the door slammed and Jaemin turned back to you looking like a kicked puppy.

Your heart clenched. Not only did you have to elicit Jaemin’s help in the first place, but now you were keeping him from spending time with his friends and having fun.

“Explain to me everything that I need to do and go,” you offered.

His face lit up immediately and he opened his mouth to speak before freezing.

“But I promised…”

“Jaemin, it’s not that big of a deal! I’ve got this,” you said, hoping he couldn’t hear the way your voice wavered at the doubt creeping into your soul.

“Ok so…” and he rattled off instructions, letting you write them down.

“Now are you sure you can do this?” he asked.

You nodded even though you were positive you couldn’t do this.

“Ok! Good luck! And Taeyong hyung is going to love it!”

With that, the call ended and you were left alone with a pan of rapidly browning hamburger meat and a pot of boiling water.

“Ok (y/n), you got this,” you whispered to yourself.

~

You didn’t have this. In no way, shape, or form did you have this!

The meat browned too quickly, and while you were trying to get it off the heat, the pot of water boiled over, sizzling and fizzing on the burner You slightly burned your hand in a rush trying to get the lid off of the pot of noodles, but while you were fighting with it, the smoke alarm went off, blaring loudly through the house. Frantically, you trembled as you tried to quiet down the alarm before you realized why it was going off.

The meat had become a dark brown lump emitting thick black smoke that pillowed toward the ceiling. With a little screech, you grabbed the pan of meat and hurled it into the empty sink, rapidly turning the water on and letting it spill over the now ruined meat as you turned back to turn off the stove. However, before you could, the water was boiling over the sides again.

By the time you got the water in the pot to settle, your hair was a mess atop your head and tears had gathered into your eyes at the mess of a kitchen. Water was still running over the burned black meat. The noodles in the pot had secured themselves to the bottom of the pot, refusing the budge, and the vegetables you’d put in the oven to roast had gotten done while everything else had gone wrong. Now they sat on top of the stove crispy with an aftertaste of coal.

Dinner was ruined. But perhaps you’d still have time to order takeout before-

You heard his keys jiggle in the door and your heart dropped to your stomach. Not only had you not succeeded in making one simple meal, but Taeyong was going to see just how awful you were in the kitchen.

You sank to your knees on the floor, leaning against the cabinets under the sink and drawing your knees to your chest, burying your face in your hands as the tears flowed easily now.

“Honey! I’m ho-”

The first thing Taeyong noticed was the smell. The bitter, burnt scent of burning food making his nose crinkle in distaste.

“Babe?” he asked, stepping further into your shared apartment, closer to the kitchen where the smell was coming from.

When he entered, the sight broke his heart.

You were trembling on sobs below the sink, quiet whimpers leaving your lips that only got worse as he moved closer to you. Water was running over a pan of burnt something in the sink and the pot on the stove was scorched. The vegetables on the over pan looked like shriveled prunes.

Slowly, so as not to make you more upset, Taeyong made his way over to the stove and quickly switched off the two burners and the over, all of which you must have forgotten to turn off.

When the stove was handled, Taeyong took another look around the kitchen. Your phone was sitting on the counter by the stove, a piece of paper with hastily scratched instructions beside it. There was an old sweater hanging over the back of the table chair that you must have used to calm the smoke detector that was now dangling from the ceiling by a single wire. The refrigerator was slightly ajar and making a small dinging noise until he pushed it closed. You were crumpled on the floor in the center of all of the chaos, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out what had happened.

With a small sigh, Taeyong moved closer to you. He leaned over you to switch off the water pouring onto the burnt pan before lowering himself to the floor and wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“Baby, did you try to cook for me?” he whispered.

He already knew the answer to that, but he wanted to hear a response from you. When you only nodded, another whimper leaving your lips, he pulled you into his arms and placed a kiss on your head.

“Why baby? I told you I was going to cook.”

“You cooked breakfast,” you mumbled.

“So?”

By now he was very confused. You never offered to cook. He just assumed you didn’t like to or couldn’t, which seemed to be the case.

“You deserve someone who can cook for you,” you muttered. “You always have to cook and I’m just useless not being able to.”

Taeyong was left speechless for a solid 30 seconds before he was pulling you into his lap, carefully spinning you around to face him.

“You are not useless. Baby, you give me warm hugs and kisses when I get home. You let me be the little spoon some nights when I’m exhausted. You draw baths for me and hold me while I relax. You are anything but useless. You do so much for me that I enjoy cooking for us when I get home. Even when I’m tired I love it. I love seeing your face light up when you taste something you like or watching you bounce in your seat over your favorite foods. I don’t get to take care of you half as much as you take care of me. Let me cook for you baby. I love it,” he said, letting his thumbs gently stroke over your face as he wiped away your tears.

Your glassy eyes looked up to meet his and he was drawing you closer, planting a soft kiss on your water lips.

“I love you baby. And I promise, just because you can’t cook doesn’t make me love you any less,” he said, kissing your forehead.

You nodded and dove into him, letting your head rest against his neck, holding onto him as warmth washed over you.

“I love you too,” you muttered, finally feeling relaxed after hours of stress that came with cooking.

“Who gave you those instructions on the counter? Did they not offer to help you?”

“Jaemin. Kun was busy. Doyoung was with you. I obviously wasn’t about to call you, so Jaemin helped me, but halfway through he had to go.”

Taeyong nodded and peppered kisses along your cheeks.

“How about we get dressed and go to the dinner where we had our first date? Then tomorrow, we’ll spend the whole day together. I might even help you learn how to cook!”

“You have tomorrow off?!”

“Mhm,” Taeyong cooed.

You jumped off his lap excitedly.

“That sounds perfect!” you grinned, dashing off to your shared bedroom to put on something other than sweats.

Laughing, Taeyong stood up and surveyed the kitchen once again.

You had the capabilities of cooking. That much was clear by the seasonings and well-chopped vegetables. Stress and distractions were your issues. And that, he could help you with.

With a smile, he made his way to the bedroom.

It didn't matter if you could cook or not. What mattered was that you were his. And if the ring tucked away in his pocket was any indication, he planned on making you his forever.

[kissesinthekitchen]

Yours

Prompt: The one where a flirty waitress oversteps her boundaries and you want to remind Harry who he belongs to. 

Pairing: Harry x Reader

Smut and fluff. Jealousy. Sex in public. Word count: 5,565. Rated mature.

A/N: Thank you so much for all the love on Mine! In my head, this is sort of a sequel, but you don’t need to have read the first story to understand it. Jealous!reader was a lot of fun to write this time. I would really appreciate any love or feedback. Hope you like this! x

The guilty look on Harry’s face that greets you when you return from the bathroom is all you need to know.

“What?” you ask him, as you place your purse down and scoot back into the booth to be close to him again.

You spot the folded piece of paper sitting in front of him and swallow hard. You have a feeling you already know what it is. You pluck the piece of paper off the table and watch the digits of a phone number unfold slowly between your hands. 

“Oh, this bitch-” you say, already trying to rise from the seat to find her face from between the other diners.

“Y/N,” Harry says, and his voice sounds like a gravely warning. His hand is gripping your wrist already. “Baby. Sit down.”

Your blood is boiling. You feel something akin to wanting to slap her and wanting to close the distance between you and Harry by straddling his lap right now, like some kind of animal holding down its mate - something, anything - to prove he’s yours. Something that says he’s mine. 

-----

Harry always treats food like a peace offering. 

Once, when you had a conference to attend out of state on your birthday, he paid for a buffet of Mexican food to be catered and sent to the hotel you and some of your friends from the department were staying at. Complete with a birthday cake, so you knew he was thinking of you. And another time, when he was in France working on something for Gucci and you couldn’t get off work to join him because of a bunch of parent-teacher meetings, he had an extravagant box of French macarons and pink tulips shipped overnight from Paris just so he could Facetime you from the same cafe later, so it could be like you were there together. When you’re upset, when you miss him, when you want to reconnect, it’s always either in bed or over a good meal. 

Today, he had chosen a sunlit fancy Italian bistro with high ceilings, and green ivy plants and glass chandeliers clinging to each other for decoration. White and brick red speckled walls. Harry had squeezed your hand as a host led you to a booth towards the back of the restaurant.

The food they serve tastes as good as it looks. Crunchy bruschetta with sweet basil and tomatoes. Soft pillows of warm gnocchi served over roasted butternut squash and crispy fried herbs and salty pancetta. For entrees, you’d ordered a zesty lemon chicken piccata with capers, while Harry ordered a delicious eggplant parmesan. And together, you’d decided to share an order of linguine with clams - just because you couldn’t help yourself. Harry loves food, but more than that, he loves seeing how much you love food. If anyone asks, he’d probably say that your love language is trying new restaurants together. 

And yet, while the food and the ambiance - there’s nothing like watching Harry’s face over candlelight- had been amazing, you’re sure this has still probably got to be one of the worst meals you’ve ever had.

This is confirmed later. If the guilty look on Harry’s face that greets you when you return from the bathroom is all you need to know. 

“What?” you ask him, as you place your purse down and scoot back into the booth to be close to him again.

You spot the folded piece of paper sitting in front of him and swallow hard. You have a feeling you already know what it is. 

Harry is resting his face in the palm of his hand. Loose curls framing his face, the top buttons of his black shirt unbuttoned beneath a soft velvet jacket of the same color. He looks relaxed, if not, a little amused. 

You pluck the piece of paper off the table and watch the digits of a phone number unfold slowly between your hands. 

“Oh, this bitch-” you say, already trying to rise from the seat to find her face from between the other diners.

“Y/N,” Harry says, and his voice sounds like a gravely warning. His hand is gripping your wrist already. “Baby. Sit down.”

It’s been more than an hour of this. The waitress offering Harry one sided conversation and squeezing his bicep and biting her lip and treating you like you’re fucking invisible. You feel like you already know too much about her. 

Her name is Giselle because of course it is. Her sweeping blonde hair cascades down over her shoulders in a way that makes you feel a pang in your chest because - and you’ll never say this outloud but- she reminds you of a model, reminds you of so many of Harry’s exes. The women who used to rent space in his head and in his bed.The women he loved and wrote songs about before he met you. 

You can’t help but flinch and grit your teeth every time she tries to make a move on Harry. She declares that she always wanted to study abroad in London. She saw One Direction three times when they were together. She licks her lips and asks Harry if he needs help finding places to go or stay while he’s in town, in a voice that makes you feel like she means her bed. And she frowns when Harry tries to bring you into the conversation, you’re like ninety-nine percent sure she scoffed when he said you were a teacher. The audacity of it all. 

It’s not that you’re surprised. Harry is well, Harry. You’re used to sharing him with most of the world. He’s got the biggest heart you know, and he’s a huge flirt. Women are drawn to him like mosquitos are to blood. But you never thought you’d have to deal with another girl on the night you’re supposed to be celebrating your engagement. Maybe Harry was right to have tried to persuade you to stay home, in bed with takeout- that would have required much less sulking. 

To his credit, Harry brushes her off, but he’s still entirely too polite. When she places a hand on his shoulder to give him the wine menu, he gives her a solemn nod. When she cups his hands in hers and throws a wink over her shoulder as she walks away, he politely wrenches his hand away and throws her back a look that is something caught between a frown and a smile as he meets your eyes. 

“She really did it.”

“Darling-” he starts. 

“She really fucking did it.” you say, appalled and irritated. Your blood is boiling. You feel something akin to wanting to slap her and wanting to close the distance between you and Harry by straddling his lap right now, like some kind of animal holding down its mate - something, anything - to prove he’s yours. Something that says he’s mine. 

“You’re jealous,” Harry says. 

“No shit, Sherlock,” you say quickly. The brightness in his eyes seems to grow at your quip, and you almost feel like slapping him now. 

“Oh baby,” he says, his arm reaching around to cling to the part of the booth that is behind your neck.

“What can I do baby? How can I make it better?” he chuckles in your ear, when you cross your arms around your chest and let out a frustrated huff like an irritated child. “How can I turn this frown upside down?” His fingers graze the spot where your eyebrows have pinched together. 

You wring the napkin in your hands. “Oh fuck off, Harry-“ 

“M’serious love,” but there is amusement in his face and you feel like elbowing him in the chest right now. “How do I show you that you don’t have any reason to be jealous?” 

A moment passes, your nails are tapping impatiently against the throat of your wine glass before you hear Harry’s low voice tell you to look at him. 

“Should I fuck you here?” he raises an eyebrow, his grip on you tightening. The broadness of his back moving so he’s blocking you from view. “Would that show you, sweetheart?”

“Stop making fun of me.” 

He moves closer. “M’I’m not. Promise. Bit cute, actually. Seein’ you get all riled up.” He flashes you a heated look, the kind he usually saves for when you’re behind closed doors and his voice sounds choked. “Kind of makes my cock hard, if I’m bein’ honest. Seein’ you so jealous.”

“Harry,” you try to chastise him, but your voice just sounds just as broken. “Someone could see-” You know you aren’t the only one who spotted at least two or three photographers outside when you walked in here. 

He makes a gesture of sweeping the room with his eyes. “Everyone’s eatin.’ No one’s payin’ attention to us. ‘Sides. Noticed you didn’t say no...”

“Baby-” you try to halt him as he reaches for you then. His eyes holding your wide gaze as his hand lifts the end of your dress. 

“Tell me that if I slide my hand up, I won’t find you wet already?” 

“Harry,” you croak, your voice shaking. Your fingers stop on his wrist and his eyes still. 

A beat passes before you admit - “Harry, I’m soaked.” 

Harry watches the way your nervous demeanor melts into a grin before he grabs you.  

“Fuckin’ hell. Come here, you minx,” he closes the inch of distance between you to kiss you hard, his tongue swiping against yours. Your hands grasp his face before winding around his neck. 

Your teeth dig into his jacket, in the spot where his neck and shoulder meet, to muffle your moaning when you feel him dip two of his fingers inside of you. 

He groans. “Are you gonna come for me, honey? Fuck. Gonna come all over my fingers in front of everyone?” That makes you gasp, goosebumps rising on your skin as you listen dimly to the noise of silverware banging on plates and drinks being poured, the shuffle of the waiters walking, and music on the street as day fades into night in front of the windows. 

“Harry-” you try to reason, even though your thighs are parting wider on their own accord and the grip you have on his hands is nothing but for show now. 

“‘Am having my dessert, woman,” he chuckles against your cheek, his lips and tongue swiping against your earlobe. “Let me have my dessert, hmm?”

He’s knuckles deep into you, the rings on his hand brushing against your mound. But you’re still aching, still want more of him. Your nails dig into his shoulder as you beg, “Harry. I want to be full. Make me full, Harry. “

“I know baby, I know.” He soothes you by adding a third finger, and swiping his thumb back and forth against your clit. And it feels so good, your back arches closer into his touch and your thighs clench. 

“God-” you gasp at feeling him so deep. You’re trying to control your breathing, but your cunt feels so tight around the stretch of his fingers. You feel dizzy with how much you want him and need him and how much he’s giving you. 

“Feels good, yeah? Ya gonna come already, lovie?” He smiles, the dimples in his cheeks deepening. “Squeezin’ my fingers so tight. Feels just like when you’re grippin’ my cock when I’m inside of you, huh? You want to come so bad. You look so beautiful.”

“Don’t stop Harry. Don’t stop. I’m almost-Fuck-”

“I can feel you,” he says. “Beg me, Y/N. Then I’ll let you. I’ll make you come. I promise. Just need to hear you say it. Use your words, baby.”

“Oh fuck you-“ you tell him, your voice caught in a crossroads between amusement and want. 

He smiles. “You will. But I need you to come for me first.”

He watches as you writhe beside him and you stare back through heavy lidded eyes as he works you towards your orgasm. He looks beautiful like this, really, his soft mouth wet and open. The hint of a smile on his lips. And the green of his eyes looking all the more dark and endless and intense under candlelight. Strands of his hair are shaking with the force of his arm as his hand moves beneath the skirt of your dress. 

And then it happens - you’re babbling. Half mad with the need to come. “Harry. Please Harry. Please. Please. Please let me come.”

You can feel the sweat on the back of your thighs. Harry’s grip is so tight that your skirt is almost bunched up around your hips where you’re grateful the table is covering you from view. And your legs are shaking, hips bucking up to meet Harry’s fingers and shifting back against the leather of your seat. 

“Gettin’ my fingers so wet, love. Fuckin’ me so well. Can you come now baby? Come so I can fuck you all good and proper like.”

“Harry-” you sigh. Your eyebrows knitting together, your lips trying to form a warning. You squeeze the shoulder of his velvet jacket with your fingers before your eyes roll back. “Fuck. I’m coming-I’m coming-”

To keep you from screaming, he smothers your lips with his mouth. You kiss him - all lips and tongue and teeth- before burying your head in his neck, exhausted, muffling your noises with his skin. 

It hits you hard again and again, and he keeps fucking you through it. His fingers relentlessly hitting that soft, tender part inside of you that makes you want to scream every time he touches it with his fingers or his tongue or his cock. Dimly, you’re aware of him talking you through it too - telling you how beautiful you are, how perfect, how amazing, in between his own gasps of “Come on. Yeah. Yeah. Yes-” It’s as if Harry needs to see you come as much as you need to feel it. 

You let out a frustrated groan when he finally slips his fingers from your cunt, frowning at feeling so empty without him. But you’re grateful when he takes pity on you by kissing you. 

“Did so well for me, pet,” he says. He tenderly presses his fingers - that are not covered in your wetness- to pull your cheek close so he can press his mouth against your forehead where you’re sweaty and strands of your hair have escaped. You feel like jelly, which only amuses Harry even more. “Mmm.” 

“Harry.” You say, slapping his forearm lightly as he makes a show of sucking his fingers into his mouth, peering up at you from his eyelashes so you can watch him lap the taste of you from his hand. Somehow the sight feels even dirtier than having just had his hand between your thighs or coming in public. You try to fix an annoyed or stern look on your face but it only makes Harry laugh harder. 

“Did you get to pick dessert, Mr. Styles?” 

“Oh shit-”

His arm is gripping the back of your seat as he turns around to face Giselle. 

“I’m sorry?” she says.

“We’ll pass on that,” Harry says, glancing down to the menu on the table. “My fiancé seems to be feeling a little ill. Where’s the nearest loo again?”

The misstep seems to catch her off guard and it makes you laugh from your place against the seat, Harry’s large hand smoothing back and forth on your knee as if to tell you down, girl. 

She clears her throat, an annoyed look passing her eyes. “Down the hall. Last door on the right.”

You’re both laughing as you all but run to the bathroom, Harry’s front colliding with your back. His long arms winding around your waist as both of your hands push the door open. He kisses you hard as you try to untangle yourself an inch to lock the door. 

It’s raw and filthy like this. Harry kneeling on the floor for a second. Pushing down your underwear. Grasping the end of your dress and pulling it tight around your hips, long enough to spread you back against him and stare at where you are still swollen and wet and aching. Clenching around nothing there. 

“Oh baby,” he says, a hint of real concern in his throat. “I’m sorry I made you wait so long.”

You twist back to hold him by his hair. He grips you by the hips and then cranes his neck forward to kiss and lick between your thighs, tongue gliding between the folds of your pussy lips in a way that has your back bowing it feels so good. 

“Honey,” you whine. “Harry, please-”

He chuckles, leaning back to press a soft bite to the cheek of your ass before standing to his full height again. You turn long enough in his embrace to reach for his pants, unbuckling his belt and zipper without breaking eye contact. His arms are on the wall behind you, caging you in and he’s smirking. You know how much he loves this, having you undress him. 

When your hands are done, he looms forward, his body pressing you back against the sink. “Just wanted to give you a kiss.” He laughs. “Turn around for me, love. S’gonna be hard and fast. Just like you need it. Isn’t that right?”

“Please,” you keen. 

You shiver as you feel and hear him take himself into his hand. He spits on his cock and then there’s the wet, telltale push and pull sound of him jerking himself off. It gives you goosebumps. You widen your stance, trying to balance yourself on your heels, and he presses a soothing hand against your back to keep you still as he slides inside of you in one smooth movement. 

God. You want to scream with relief. He feels so much deeper from this angle. Heavier. Bigger. Like you can feel him in your belly. 

One of Harry’s hands clings to yours on the sink, the heavy rings on his fingers gripping your knuckles as he bends you over. His cock feels heavy, and you feel impossibly full at this angle. 

“Ya with me love? Hmm?” He kisses the naked skin of your back and throat where your dress is exposed and you grin, meeting his face in the mirror.

“Always.”

“Fuck me back, baby.” Harry begs you, his voice needy and raw. “Fuck me back.” 

His hands don’t stop, incessantly pushing into grope your breasts. His mouth hot and wet on your neck. 

Your eyes flutter close, you love how low and gritty his voice gets when he’s this deep. It feels good. Feels like something is touching you from the inside out, god, being with him is so consuming. You want him. All of him. All the time. Everywhere. 

“Feels so good, Harry. Feel so full.” You whimper as you grind back against him, your skin singing with relief at finally feeling sated. 

When you finally open your eyes you moan again at the sight of Harry reflected back on the glass in front of you. His hair is cascading down to fall in front of his eyes, trembling with the movement of his thrusts. And he’s leaving indents in your skin, bruises you’ll marvel at in the morning. But the best part is watching him fuck you. 

He looks beautiful. Sliding his tongue over his mouth, biting into his lips as he loses himself in staring at the junction between your pussy and his cock. Watching himself disappear inside of you with each stutter and slide of his hips. When he looks up to find you staring at him, he smiles so wide and soft that it makes you tighten around him. 

“Harry,” you whimper. You want to say more but your words feel caught in your throat. He feels so good. 

“M’close, angel. You had me so hard at the dinning table. I wanna come so bad.” 

He gathers you closer and sneaks his fingers into the space between your thighs and the sink and starts rubbing your swollen clit with two fingers. Your elbows almost lose their footing on the counter when he touches you, the sensation makes you feel like your knees could buckle. 

“Oh my god, Harry-”

“You gonna come for me baby? Gonna coat my cock?”

“Yes-yes. God. Please-”

Your scalp stings where he reaches up to pull a handful of your hair. Your spine has no choice but to arch back. It hurts in the best kind of way. 

“I’m gonna make you come so hard. But you have to stay with me, okay? Listen to me, love. You’re the only one I want.” You grit your teeth on a particularly hard thrust, his hips seeming to punctuate every word of his promise. “I love you. I love you. I only want to make you come. I only want you.”

“Me too, Harry. Me too,” you squeeze his hand, reaching back to grip his hair and meet his open mouth with your lips and kiss him over your shoulder. You clench your eyes shut as you fuck back against him, meeting the slide of his thrusts with the shaking of your hips. Your throat feels heavy at his words, but your brain feels like it’s scattering. You’re so close-

“You’re shaking,” he laughs, his voice heavy with astonishment. You can only hum in response. His lips press against your forehead quickly. “Give it to me, love. Give me fuckin’ everything. I’ll catch you. I need you to come for me. Please fuckin’ come for me.”

Your body obeys him before your mind can think, you’re so weak for him. Your shoulders are shaking so hard from the effort of trying not to scream his name. It burns in your throat and on your tongue, and you try to bite your lip through it. 

“Harry,” you gasp. “Harry-”

He grips your face tenderly as if he can recognize how torn you feel. “That’s it, baby. My good girl. Did so well for me, angel. Gonna make me come too. Shit-” 

“Yes-yes. Come Harry. God. Come. I want to feel it-”

And that always does it, your begging him. He can never resist the ache in your voice. He moans into your mouth and he’s uttering your name as he lets himself let go. You talk him through it too, telling him how much you love him, how he looks so good when he comes, how you wanna feel it deep. His cock is pulsing when he’s done, and his mouth reluctantly relents, letting go of your lips as his neck rolls back and he tries to catch his breath. His release settling inside of you in a way that makes you feel soothed. Harry feels dizzy, almost delirious with relief. 

“Fuckin’ Christ,” he laughs, sinking his weight onto you. You don’t mind though, loving the press of him against your back. He kisses a path up your spine. “I’m so glad I get to marry you. Get to fuck you for the rest of my life.”

You giggle from beneath his chin. “And here I thought you liked me for my brain,” you tease. 

“I do,” he says. “Love your brain. And your laugh. And your cunt. All your parts, really.”

Because there’s no time to linger in the afterglow when you’re worried about someone knocking on the door, or a line forming outside, and you still have to go pay the bill for dinner - you laugh, but reluctantly squeeze Harry’s arm and kiss the side of his face.

“Babe-” you say softly. 

“Mmm, okay,” he says. 

He groans as he grasps your back, and just like in the dining room, he laughs softly when you frown as he pulls out of you. A reluctant whimper grazing your lips as your bodies separate. You take a moment to both pull yourselves together. Harry wetting towels and wadding up your underwear to get you cleaned up. 

“I’ll buy you another pair,” he laughs at the twisted look on your face when he throws them in the trash bin. 

“You better,” you joke as you try to fish your compact out of your purse. 

Harry leans back to watch you, he thinks it’s one of his favorite things to do. Watching you get ready for work in the morning, putting on perfume and pulling on your stockings. The way you always stop to give him a kiss before you leave, no matter how full your arms are of bags and lunch and coffee, art projects and homework. Or watching you get undressed and ready for bed at night, taking off your makeup and putting your lotion and nightgowns on. The way you smell after you come into your bedroom after a long bath. The way you never go to sleep without nudging him for a kiss good night, and the way your mouth always lingers before he leaves for a trip that will take him far away from you.

He’s caged you in again, one arm on the mirror watching you try to fix the smudged mess your mouth has become from his lips.

“Did you mean what you said?” you ask him. You press a tender kiss to the cross on his hand and his wrist. He’s kind enough to indulge you-

“‘Course I do. Would hang up the fuckin’ moon for ya, I love you so much. I wanna give you my last name. Wanna give you everything.”

You turns in his embrace so your back is to the mirror and you can look him in the eyes. He cups the back of your neck with his long fingers and cradles your face with the other. And you grasp both of his hands with yours and let him kiss you once, twice, again with his teeth softly grazing your bottom lip. 

“I’m yours,” he promises. “I only ever want ‘ta be yours.” 

Your eyes soften. He always manages to hit you out of nowhere with sweeping declarations like this and it makes you feel like you’d be crying, if you were somewhere with more time and not just hiding in the bathroom of a restaurant, having just had a sneaky -albeit mindblowingly amazing - fuck. 

“You’re mine and I’m yours, Harry,” you vow. “Mine and yours."

He grins.  “S’what I’ve been trying to tell you! God. Stubborn.” 

He wraps both of his arms around your middle and you settle back against him, affording a second to laugh. His lips feel warm against your temple, and wet against your neck. 

“Gotta admit though. I love when you get territorial. Gettin’ all possessive, love. Bit of a turn on. Should see you jealous more often.” You watch him as he pulls the straps of your dress back up and wraps himself around you like a shadow. His face resting in your neck, pressing soft sweet, wet kisses. 

“Yeah? We could flip it. Might not be so fun when Chad at work asks me to go out for dinner or a drink when my boyfriend is out of town.”

“Hey. Hey. Fiancé,” he emphasizes with his fingers on your chin. His eyebrows wrinkling together for good measure as he flutters his fingers in front of your face. “Wait. Has he really?”

Harry meets your gaze in the mirror as you nod and explain. “So many times while you were on tour. Always knew -somehow- when you were out of town. Think he might have had your schedule memorized more than me.”

Harry groans. “Ugh. Twat. Fuckin’ Chad.” 

“Might have to assert your dominance, Harold. Gotta show him who I belong to.” You laugh. 

“Yeah? How would I do that?” Harry plays along. “Should I show up at school and fuck you in your office again? On your desk? In your classroom?”

You giggle, but feel your core flutter at the thought. Last time he did that, you couldn’t look at your desk for weeks.

You leave Harry’s offer open ended as you kiss his cheeks, his lips, his neck. He grunts when you press your mouth to his Adam’s Apple and dip your tongue and teeth into the indention in his throat that makes him melt. His favorite spot.

You reach up to wrap your arms around Harry’s neck, brushing his hair from his cheekbones. He’s growing it out long again and he looks beautiful. Your fingers are fisted around the cross on his neck and the collar of his shirt, keeping it open. And when you look up at him, his lips are beautifully puffy and blistered, a few shades short of the lipstick you are wearing.

He stares down at you, smirking and half serious.

“Want her to see the mark you left on my neck, huh?”

“Looks like a vampire had her way with your throat, babe,” you affirm, cupping his neck, your voice filled with pride at your own dirty work. 

He’s beaming when you look at him. “Photographer outside will probably get a shot of you lookin’ freshly fucked too.”

“Harry.” You jab him in the ribs, pretending to be scandalized, yelping when he squeezes your hip in retaliation.

You finish shimmying your dress back down your legs. Not bothering to tend to the mess your hair has become from when Harry fisted his fingers in it. Harry gives you a coy and knowing smile as he pulls the lock and door open, positive that you want to wear it like some sort of badge of honor, just like he wants to wear the marks on his neck. 

When you get back to the table, the agony you felt in your chest earlier has all but disappeared - but not the need to show that Harry is yours. Harry can recognize it too, especially when you ask him to leave you alone with the check and wait by the entrance. 

“Baby,” his voice narrows, but his lips are lifting at the edges. 

“I’ll be nice. Go.” 

You see Giselle catch him on the way to the door, her eyes widening when she takes in Harry’s open shirt. Your heart swells when you see him walk past her without as much as a nod. 

She catches you watching and you can see she’s trying to bury the deflated look on her face as she walks towards you, taking in your disheveled hair, your smudged lipstick. 

“Is Harry okay?”

“Harry’s fine, Giselle. In fact, he’s engaged,” you muse. “I don’t think your boss would find it very professional if they found out you were trying to slip guests your phone number while you were on the clock.”

You give her your best and broadest smile as you push the bill and cash towards her - plus a $200 tip, with her phone number facing up. You know she doesn’t miss it either, the gleam of your antique engagement ring catching and sparkling in the candlelight. It’s a vintage five carat showstopper, you know that’s why Harry picked it. It stops anyone who sees it. And you can tell because Giselle looks mortified, like she’s choking on her own confidence as she stares at it. 

She turns red. “I-I’m so sorry-” she stammers.

“Next time, make sure he’s single first. Yeah? Or maybe stop talking long enough to realize whether or not he wants you too before you humiliate yourself. Again.” You narrow your eyes and tilt your head. “Have a good night, Giselle.”

You don’t miss the way she shrinks back a little when you get up and walk past her. 

When you find him again, Harry is staring at you, his eyebrows raised. He throws you a cautious but amused, beautiful smirk as you approach. 

“There’s my misses,” he says. He extends his hand for you when you get close and you take it. “Did you get into a fight, stubborn?” 

You shake your head. “No. I left her a big tip. Decided to kill her with some kindness.”

Harry’s eyes are fond as they look at you. “That’s my girl,” he says. 

He laughs as you draw up on your toes to pull him down with both arms for a kiss, the hand with your engagement ring fisting in his hair. 

He presses both hands into the middle of spine and kisses you back. When you draw apart you don’t have to look through the window to see some cameras trying to disappear out of view. He knows what you’re doing. You’re not usually like this and neither is Harry, but you’re grateful he allows you this scene - some part of you is surprisingly thrilled at the idea of this photo. At least a few days worth of articles with you captured in front of this restaurant. Your name alongside Harry’s. Not some model, not some singer, just regular old you- who gets to share his bed and his house and -someday soon- his name. 

“Baby,” he whines into your ear. “That looked a bit...intense.”

“Did it?” you play along. 

“She looked scared shitless, love.” he admits. “Looked like you were so close to hittin’ her.”

“I felt like I could,” you laugh. “Had to show her not to mess with what’s mine. Think your ring kind of shut her up.”

He smirks, looking down to where your hands are joined. His thumb running over the diamond on your finger. 

“Mmm, got me kind of...stirred up watching.”

Your eyes widen. “Harry! Jesus. You could get hard at the drop of a hat, I swear.”

“You sayin’ it like it’s a bad thing?”

“Harry-” His hands lose themselves in your hair again. You react by tilting your neck back so he can lean down to kiss you, with both of his hands on your face, effectively shutting you up.

“I love you,” he huffs. “But can we please get the hell out of here. Really want to go home and make really loud love to my fiancé..”

“Do you now?” you tease against his jaw.

“Reckon we can be loud enough that that knob Chad hears us from his house?” His eyes flash up, and he grins at you as you laugh harder. “Just wanna be yours.” 

And how can you argue with that? You laugh as he tugs you under your arm, and you peer over his shoulder to wave and flash Giselle your ring - savoring the bewildered and embarrassed look on her face one last time- before you and Harry both disappear into the night.

A/N: Thank you for reading! I have another story based on “Adore You” that I hope to post by the end of the week. Please feel free to follow me to keep up with more stories. I’d love to have you here. <3 Or let me know what you think!

[loveisblindfanfictionbka]

Love Is Blind: Chapter Twenty-Three

Chris turned over in the bed and frowned as he felt an empty space next to him. Robyn had to have been gone for a minute because the sheet was cold. He ran his hand over his head before he climbed out of the bed. Slipping his feet into a pair of slippers and pulling a t-shirt over his head, Chris made his way out of the bedroom. The smell of bacon hit his nose as he reached the top of the stairs. He quickly made his way to the kitchen and walked in just as Robyn pulled a pan of muffins out of the oven. He cleared his throat and Robyn smiled over at him, “a little early for you, ain’t it?”

Robyn chuckled, “Good morning Babe. I figured I’d make breakfast since I was up anyway. Did I wake you?”

“No. I rolled over to cuddle you and the bed was empty. I got nervous.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you worry. I’m good. Just wanted to do something nice, that’s all.”

“It smells good.”

“Thank you. I was gonna bring some upstairs to you so we could eat together before the kids woke up.”

“We can still make that happen. What do you still need to do?”

“Just make the plates and put the rest in the oven to keep warm for the kids.”

“I can help.”

“You don't have to do that, Babe.”

“I want to.”

Chris walked over to her and kissed her lips, “thank you for this.”

“You haven’t even eaten yet.”

“Doesn’t matter. The intent is enough for me.”

Robyn smiled as she leaned in to kiss him, “you are trouble.”

Chris chuckled as he moved over to the sink and washed his hands, “point me to where I need to be.”

Within a few minutes, they were sitting on the enclosed back porch, eating breakfast. Robyn cut a piece of pancake and dipped into the small puddle of syrup on the side of her plate then held it out to Chris. He ate the piece then kissed her cheek.

“Eww...now I got syrup on my face.”

“I can always lick it off.”

“Nope. You just trying to be fresh now.”

Chris laughed as he sat his own plate on the nearby coffee table. He took Robyn’s plate from her and set it next to his on the table before grabbing her around the waist to pull her into his lap. Robyn giggled as she settled back against his chest, “what are you doing now?”

“I just want to hold you, that’s all.”

“Well then let me turn around.”

Robyn got up then turned around to saddle Chris’s lap. He wrapped his arms around her and rested his hands on the top of her butt. Robyn put her arms around his neck and pecked his lips, “much better.”

“Now who’s being the troublemaker?”

Robyn giggled as she pressed her forehead against his, “what’s our plans for today?”

“You keep moving in my lap like this, I’ma turn on some cartoons for the kids and lock you up in our bedroom for a few hours.”

“You are silly. I’m serious.”

“Depends on if you wanna stay on the grounds or go exploring.”

“We can go out for the day.”

“Ok, there’s a zoo I think the kids will love, then we can just wing it from there.”

“Works for me.”

“Mommy! Daddy! Look at the baby goat,” Anesa exclaimed as the park attendant led her into the animal gate. The attendant handed Chris a  plastic sandwich bag full of food pellets. Chris poured a small amount in Anesa’s palm and instructed her to hold out her hand, “just wait a second and the goat will come to you. Just remain calm, Nesa.”

Anesa steadied her hand just as the goat came to sniff at her palm. The animal moved tentatively closer before he began nibbling at the pellets. Anesa held her other hand to her mouth as she giggled. Robyn smiled as she snapped a few pictures of the moment, “Nesa Boo, watch your hand near his mouth.”

“Yes Mommy.”

Chris glanced over at Robyn before leaning over to kiss her temple. “You seem to be enjoying this as much as the kids are.”

“Anesa is loving it. Christian has been asleep this entire time.”

Chris chuckled as he peeked under the blanket covering the carrier affixed to the front of Robyn’s body. Christian was fast asleep with his thumb in his mouth.

“I hope that doesn’t become a habit,” Chris murmured as he kissed the baby’s forehead then placed the blanket back over his head.

“He’ll be alright. You think of where we’re going to eat lunch?”

Chris shrugged as he poured more food pellets into Anesa’s hand, “depends on what you would like to eat. There’s a couple steak places we can try.”

“Sounds good.”

“You know what you want to do tomorrow?”

“Depends on what we do tonight.”

Chris raised his brow in shock and Robyn laughed, “are you starting with me because it’s too early for you to be starting with me?”

“It is never too early, Christopher.”

“If that’s the case, steak restaurant has been scratched from the plans.”

“What? We still have to eat.”

“Oh we’re gonna eat, just not in a restaurant.”

“So what are you saying?”

“You know exactly what I’m saying especially since I can’t say it out loud.”

Robyn laughed as she leaned into his shoulder, “and you call me a troublemaker.”

“You started that first.”

“Whatever.”

“Daddy, I need more food,” Anesa said as she made her way back to the fence. Chris poured the last bit of pellets into her hand, “alright Love Bug, after this we’re gonna see a few more animals then go eat dinner.”

“Can we have pizza, Daddy?”

“Sure. We’ll pick up some pizza on the way. Anything else?”

“And ice cream?”

“We’ll get some ice cream to go too.”

“Yay! Thank you!”

Anesa kissed his cheek before running back over to the attendant to feed the baby goat she was standing with.

                                        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Robyn hummed as she stepped out of the shower and wrapped a plush towel around her waist then another around her head. Just as she opened the closet door, her phone rang. She grabbed it and slid over the answer button, “hello?”

“Hey Sis.”

“Le, what’s going on?”

“Nothing much. Just bored and pregnant,” Leandra replied, “you?”

“About to get dressed. Just got out the shower.”

“Oh ok.”

“Something wrong?”

“No. Max is at work and Maxwell is asleep so it’s just me up right now.”

“Well it’s still early, there’s nothing on TV?”

“I’ve watched all the shows, I swear and Netflix is no damn help.”

Robyn chuckled, “I’m sorry. I wish I could help.”

“But you can’t. Where’s my brother?”

“He’s making us a late dinner. We’ve been out at the zoo with the kids all day.”

“That’s so cute. How are they?”

“They’re good. They both went down pretty easy so I hopefully they stay sleep.”

“Hope so too. Their parents need to work on getting their groove back.”

“It is not like that.”

“Well it should be. Y’all got almost a year of fucking to make up for.”

“Leandra!”

“What? You know I’m right.”

“I cannot with you.”

“But you can with your husband.”

“He is not my-”

“Girl, whatever. Tell somebody who doesn't know any better. He proposed yet?”

“No. We both know we aren’t ready to go there yet.”

“You mean you aren’t ready to go there.”

“Same thing.”

“Not exactly.”

“Le.”

“What? I need something to do and planning your wedding would be perfect so hurry the hell up.”

“If we do get married again, I’m not having a wedding.”

“What? Why?”

“We’ve already did that part. It wouldn’t be about that anyway.”

“At least let me plan a reception.”

“There’s nothing to plan, Le.”

“Well hurry up so there can be. This pregnancy is driving me insane.”

“How is my niece or nephew?”

“They are fine.”

“They as in you aren’t telling us the gender yet or they as in there’s more than one?”

“There’s more than one.”

“You’re having twins? Yes!”

“I am petrified.”

“Why?”

“What the hell am I going to do with two babies? That’s too much.”

“It’s just perfect. Le, you’re gonna do fine.”

“All I know is my uterus is closed for business. I am getting my tubes tied after this.”

“Whatever works for you.”

“And what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Any more babies?”

“No. I don’t want to go through anymore surgeries right now but I’m definitely not having anymore kids. That last pregnancy took me out.”

“I understand. Well you and Christopher better be careful.”

“We are very careful.”

“So what’s the plan for tonight?”

“Far as I know, just dinner but he always has something up his sleeve.”

“Well I’ma let you get to it. When you coming back?”

“Probably Monday. He has a class on Tuesday.”

“Cool.”

“I’ll take Tuesday off and bring the kids by to check on you. I need to see that belly.”

“Oh God, don’t mention the belly. I am so fucking fat.”

Robyn laughed, “I love you Le.”

“Love you too, Sis. Enjoy your night.”

“I will. And you get some sleep, please.”

“Will do. Bye Sis.”

“Bye Le.”

Robyn hung up and tossed her phone back on the bed. She squeezed the towel that was wrapped around her hair before pulling it off and tossing it into the hamper. She moved to ruffle through the outfits she had hanging in the closet and decided on a short spaghetti strap dress. It was fitted without being tight, giving her a modicum of comfort. Tossing the hanger with the dress on it on the bed, she grabbed her body cream and sat down on the bed to put it on. 

“Underwear or no underwear?” she murmured to herself. 

After a few moments, she held the dress up to her body in the mirror then slipped it over her head. She turned to see her backside and smirked, “definitely no underwear.”

“There you are. I was getting ready to come upstairs and get you,” Chris remarked as Robyn walked into the kitchen.

“I had to take a shower. I felt all sticky from being outside all day.”

“Not a problem. I like that dress. It’s cute.”

“Thank you. I didn’t want to get too fancy since we weren’t leaving the house.”

“You’re beautiful in absolutely anything.”

“I could put on a garbage bag and you’d probably say that.”

“Probably be the sexiest garbage bag I’ve ever seen.”

Robyn laughed as she leaned into his side. Chris wrapped his arm around her waist and kissed her temple, “you ready to eat?”

“What are we having, Master Chef?”

“We are having honey glazed salmon, roasted asparagus with crispy garlic smashed potatoes and sparkling grape juice since you can’t drink alcohol yet.”

“That’s the dinner we had on the day you proposed to me. You really cooked or did you order?”

“I cooked. It was one of the first dishes I wanted to learn how to make when I took cooking classes as one of my therapy assignments.”

“Now I feel like I should’ve dressed up a bit more.”

“You look perfect. I really do like that dress.”

“You sure?”

“Positive. I’m not dressed up either.”

Robyn gave him a long look then smiled up at him, “definitely a bit more dressed up than me. Is that another shirt that I bought?”

“The one when we went on vacation to Italy.”

“We went on a lot of trips that first year.”

“We did. We never made it to the Maldives though.”

“We could always go when we get the chance. Probably once the babies are older”

“We don’t have to wait. Winter break is always a good time to go.”

“I don’t know if I’ll want to be that far from them just yet.”

“Such a Mommy.”

Robyn chuckled as she nudged his shoulder, “you made me one.”

“I did. You ready to eat?”

“Yes Sir.”

Chris pulled out a chair from the dining table and Robyn sat down. He moved to the oven and started to put the serving platters of food on the table. He poured juice into their wine classes before taking his seat perpendicular to Robyn’s seat. She carefully smoothed the wrinkles from the table cloth, “Chris?”

“Yes?”

“Are you gonna propose to me again?”

“Not tonight.”

“Ok.”

“You really don’t have to worry about me springing a proposal on you every time I do something fancy. I just wanted to remember how much fun we had the first time. Just some nostalgia. That’s all.”

“Ok.”

 “I’m starting to think that you’re warming up to this marriage thing.”

Robyn shrugged, “it’s not as scary as it was to me.”

“That’s good. As long as you’re thinking about it.”

“I don’t want to but-”

“You so nervous I’m gonna propose all the time, you can’t not think about it.”

“I guess you could say that.”

Chris laughed as he rubbed the back of her hand, “you know you could definitely start calling me your husband, It could ease your anxiety.”

“Or make it worse.”

“Really? Why?”

“That makes it sound real.”

“It is real, Ms. Fenty-Brown.”

Robyn rolled her eyes as Chris emphasized the “Brown” on the end of her last name, “I carry your name still, I remember.”

“Exactly so I don’t know why you acting like this is so brand new to you”

“I haven’t had a husband in eight years, Christopher.”

“Physically. Emotionally is a totally different thing.”

Robyn rolled her eyes, “you love your semantics, don’t you?”

“When they highlight truth, yes.”

Robyn laughed, “can you just fix my plate so we can eat?”

“Are you claiming defeat, Robyn?”

“I am officially waving the white flag. For now.”

Chris smiled as he leaned over and kissed her lips, “you are so stubborn.”

“You don’t have on underwear,” Chris remarked in slight disbelief as he ran his hands down Robyn’s backside. She was straddling his lap as they sat on the enclosed back porch. It had become their pseudo spot while they were at the cabin.

Robyn laughed as she shifted her weight in his lap, “I’m surprised it took you so long to notice.”

“That ass been jiggling all night, I just assumed you had on a thong or something. You don’t usually go commando.”

She shrugged as she rubbed the back of her neck, “Just in the mood, I guess.”

“You’ve been rubbing your neck all night. You ok?”

“It just feels a little stiff,” she noticed Chris’s body language change, “not like that. I’m not having another seizure, promise. I think I slept on it wrong.”

“Let me see,” Chris replied as he carefully cupped the sides of her neck. He gently massaged each side using just his fingertips. Robyn groaned in satisfaction as she let her neck relax back into his hands. Chris chuckled lightly, “lean forward for me, Baby.”

Robyn leaned forward and pressed her forehead against Chris’s. He smiled, “Hi.”

“Hi Boyfriend.”

“Stubborn ass.”

Robyn laughed then kissed his lips.

“Just close your eyes and relax. You’re really tense around your shoulders.”

Robyn moved to press her cheek to his as Chris continued to gently massage around her neck and shoulders. He carefully tapped his fingertips along her spine and she sighed shakily. Chris continued for a few more minutes, “feel better?”

“I see why massages always end in sex.”

Chris laughed, “why you say that?”

“It’s sexual as hell.”

“Or you’re just kinky as hell and like me wrapping my hand around your neck.”

“That could be it too.”

Chris laughed again as he shifted Robyn in his lap, “how about we take advantage of the jacuzzi and I give you a real massage afterwards?”

“That sounds good.”

“Good.”

“Oh my god,” Robyn moaned as she leaned back against the jacuzzi wall, “Babe, we need one of these at the house.”

“You really want one because I’ll get it for you.”

“You don’t have to be so sweet all the time, Christopher.”

“I’m just saying that I have no problem getting one installed for you.”

“Thank you but I’m just being extra.”

Chris shrugged, “Sit up so I can sit behind you.”

Robyn scooted forward as Chris climbed into the tub behind her. She rested her back against his chest and Chris settled his arms over her shoulders, “what did you put in it here? It smells good.”

“It’s bath oil. Helps soften the skin and it smells good.”

“I’m starting to think you’ve done this before.”

“Google is man’s best friend.”

“What else has Google gave you an idea about?”

“Now if I told you that, I wouldn’t be able to surprise you anymore.”

“Now that, I doubt.”

Robyn shifted against his midsection and Chris groaned before he could catch himself, “I’m sorry, Baby. Did I hurt you?”

“The opposite.”

“Oh well then,” She pressed closer and could his erection resting against her back, “it would be very easy to do something about that.”

“I didn’t do this for that.”

“Never said you did but I’m definitely doing this for that.”

She carefully moved his arms to settle on the edge of the jacuzzi as she carefully turned around to straddle his waist. She stroked his erection for a few moments before she sat on it in one quick drop.”

“Shiii-” Chris hissed through clenched teeth. Robyn giggled as she wrapped her arms around his neck, “feel better?”

“You are dangerous, Woman.”

“And you feel so good right now.”

“I haven’t moved yet.”

“You really don’t have to. You are settled in the perfect spot.”

“Sometimes I think you like him more than me.”

“I wouldn’t want him without you. My heart and body don't work that way.”

“Glad to hear it. May I move now?”

“Yes.”

Chris grabbed her hips and started to push upward as she pressed down. The pace soon quickened and water started to slosh over the side of the tub. Robyn tucked her face into his neck and bit down on his skin. 

“Damn it, you feel so good,” Robyn murmured as she gripped the edge of the tub and Chris slid into her from behind. This guttural moan slipped from between his lips as their skin smacked against each other and more water sloshed around them. 

“Oh God, Chris, I’m cumming.”

“I’m right there. Come with me, Baby.”

“Mmmm….I can feel it.”

“I’m right here. Just let it go. I got you.”

“Oh MY GOD!”

Robyn bit down on her lip as she felt her body start to convulse. Chris gripped her body tightly around her waist and leaned into her as he felt her walls tighten and her lose grip. He lifted her up and held her back against his chest as the tremors continued through her body. He murmured soft words against her ear as he waited for her body to calm itself, “Just breathe for me, Sweetie. Just deep breaths.”

Her breathing started to slow. Her body started to relax. Chris pressed a palm to her stomach and to her chest, carefully measuring her heartbeat.

“There you go, Sweetie. Nice and easy.”

A few moments passed and Chris kissed her cheek, “you ok?”

“I’m ok.” Robyn replied softly, “I didn’t expect it to hit me like that.”

“I’m just glad I know the difference between your orgasms and your seizures.”

Robyn giggled as she took a few breaths, “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. That’s exactly what we both needed.”

“I don’t want to make you nervous about stuff like this.”

“I’m not nervous. I know I have to be prepared for the unexpected. You’re worrying too much.”

Chris kissed her cheek then turned her face to look at him, “I’m not nervous. I’m not scared. I’d never intend to fuck you into a seizure but I won’t be embarrassed if I do.”

Robyn pinched his side and Chris yelped, “OUCH! What was that for?”

“For being conceited.”

“I am not conceited. I am confident in my abilities as I should be.”

“There you go with your semantics again.”

Chris laughed as he kissed her lips, “I love you, Wife.”

“Whatever, Boyfriend.”

“Stubborn ass.”

Robyn laughed as she pulled his arms around her to hold her tight, “we might need to get out, the water is getting cold.”

“In a minute. I like holding you like this.”

Robyn smiled as she rested her head on his chest. 

[kylynnpage]

I called my friend Bella to come over and help me pick out an outfit. A lot of my clothes were leggings and sweat pants that went well with random t-shirts I had collected through out life. I had shopped for very few cute pieces of clothing. Looking through all of my clothes, I had realized that I own way to much black. Some pink was nice, and a few pieces of other colors. “I’m here.” I heard Bella say in the living room. 

“I’m in the bedroom.” I was laying out three options that I thought would work.

The first outfit that was white skinny jeans with a pink lace blouse that showed my shoulders. The second outfit was a dark grey pencil skirt with a white tank top that would look excellent with a pink blazer. And the third outfit was light blue skinny jeans with a plain light cotton, black v-neck. That shirt went with a lot of things I own.  

“I have three options picked out so far, but this is a hard decision.”

“Where is he taking you?” Bella brought into two champagne glasses followed by a bottle of champagne. Our ritual before a date was to drink a little bit of booze so we weren’t so nervous or uptight with our dates. 

“He said he knew this really good mexican joint.” I took a big swig of my champagne. It was crispy going down my throat. I took another swig to relax myself faster before this date. “I want to look nice but I don’t want to be over dressed.” 

“So wear this one.” She pointed at outfit number three, “This says you obviously but it also says that you are not trying to hard. How did you even meet this guy anyways.” 

“Balboa park.” I told Bella every detail of how we met and the what had happened the next day. How he was adorable struggling to get mustard onto his hot dog and how he waddled like the ducks that had walked by us.

“You really like this guy don’t you?” She chugged the rest of her champagne and poured another glass. 

“I think I do. I don’t know, i’m hoping I find out more about how I feel on this date.” I chugged one more glass of champagne and got ready for my date with Coyote.

It was five minuted before it was time for him to pick me up. Even after drinking that champagne, I still felt really nervous and thought I was sweating. I casually lifted my arm to smell my arm pit but there was no smell. Coyote pulled up in a black for escape. He got out of the car, and opened the door for me. “Hi.” he said with a big smile on his face, “You look wonderful.” 

When I had put my outfit on, I had put on a little make up and curled my hair to make the look come together. I was always told that I looked beautiful natural but I had always thought a little bit of make up made me look better. 

“Thank you. So do you.” He did look good. He was wearing fresh blue jeans with a light blue, plaid, pearl snap. 

I got in the car with butterflies fluttering inside me. I was so nervous, I wanted to get out of the car and run back inside. I don’t know if it was because I hadn’t been on a date since my ex boyfriend, or if it was because I am starting to like somebody again. I tried to take deep breaths without Coyote noticing. “Are you okay?” He asked. Oh crap! He noticed my breathing. 

“Yeah i’m fine.” I said still taking deep breaths. 

“Are you sure? I can hear your breathing.”

“I’m sorry. I’m just really nervous. I haven’t been out on a date in a long time. I feel new to this field all over again.” 

“Oh.” He fell silent. Oh god, I hope I didn’t just make him change his mind. “Well don’t worry Annie, I promise to do my best into making this the besy first date ever.” and we took off the mexican joint. When we pulled up, I was almost impressed with the scene. It was a mexican food truck that sat outside the city. Lights were strung all around the tree’s and above the tables, and to make the scene better, the weather was warm with a slight breeze. We sat down at a table after we had gotten our food. I ordered pork roast taco’s and he had ordered a fiesta burrito. 

“I know this isn’t a fancy restaurant or anything but since I saw you order from the food truck at the park, I thought, why not introduce you to another food truck with a more beautiful scene.”

“Coyote, I love it. I didn’t even know was out here.” I took a bite of my taco, “I honestly, this food is way better!” 

“Good! I come out here sometimes when I need to clear my head. There’s actually a trail back there that I walk when its nice out.” 

“We should totally walk the trails when we are done eating.” 

As we ate our delicious food, we sat and talked about how much La Jolla was an okay place to live. When we were done, we got up and threw away our trash. Then we headed for the trails. “So you never really went into detail about your ex earlier in the car.” He said. 

“Oh, i’m not sure you want to hear about that boring story.” Within these trails, green leaves hung from branches for miles. The ocean laid steady in the background with a light pink sunset just barely peaking over the water creating a beautiful painting. 

“Of course I do. Tell you what, I will tell you about my boring break up if you tell me about yours.” 

I couldn’t help but giggle. Since out date started Coyote has proved to be nothing but a little comforting. 

“Okay fine. His name was Jared. We were together for four years. We lived in a little apartment in LA. I thought things were going amazingly well, until I mentioned how I wanted to get married at some point. When he heard that word marriage, he avoided me for a few days and told me that it wasn’t going to work.”

“But you had only mentioned it, its not like you were forcing the commitment right now.”

“Exactly. But he thought otherwise. I thought he was that type of guy but after the break up I had found out that he was cheating on me with some girl he met in one of his classes.”

“Oh Annie, i’m so sorry.”Coyote gave me a reassuring look. 

“Its okay. I am slowly learning that life is truly so much better without him. I am not bending to his will, and I feel like I can breath again.” 

There was a trail that led down to a small shore. We walked down there and sat on the concrete bench that was dedicated to a woman named “Babe” written in gold, on a black plaque. 

“This was my moms friend.” Coyote said pointing at the plaque.

“Really?” I looked at the picture they had put beside the plaque. “She looks pretty.” 

“My mom worshipped her, and still does now.”

“So you never told me about your break up.” 

Coyote shifted in his spot looking at the sparkling water that echoed with small waves. 

“Her name was Jessica. She was actually my brother Bud’s ex first way back in college. But we kind of reunited when my mom painted her portrait. I guess she just wasn’t happy. She said my lifestyle was dragging her down because I don’t have everything in order yet. She was ready to take off, and i’m still ten steps behind everybody. So she left me a note in my tiny house saying how she needed more and we just never talked again.”

“Awh Coyote, i’m so sorry!” I slid a little closer to him. I restrained myself from wrapping my arm around his. 

“Honestly, it was probably for the best. Its hard for people to understand why i’m so behind in finances and living situation.” I exhaled a sad breath. The kind of breath that I used to exhale when I would think about Jared or evern talk about him. “But there is always a new horizon, and I plan on running towards it.”

He looked at me with a smile. A smile that didn’t make you feel bad for him, but a smile that made you want to go in for a kiss. The butterflies had come back and every fiber of my being wanted to kiss him. I scooted away from him and looked out onto the water. We sat and watched as the sun had fully went down. We hiked back up onto the trails and back to his car. When we got to my apartment, he walked me up to my door. 

“I had a really fun time with you Annie.” He said. His hands were in his pocket like he was a little boy again. 

“I did to. We should really do it again soon.” I was still fighting back the urge to kiss him on his lips that just were inviting me to do so. 

“I’ll tell you what. Next weekend, there is this movie thing that they host every year at the park. I would really love it if you joined me.” 

“Okay, I will.” I smiled trying not to blush, “Goodnight Coyote.” 

“Goodnight Annie.” What happened next took me by such surprise that I lost my breath. He kissed me on the cheek and then left. 

I rushed into my apartment and shut the door behind me. My cheek was tingling from the kiss as I held my hand over it. the butterflies had over whelmed me so much that I squealed like a middle school girl and danced to my room. I don’t care that the date wasn’t anywhere fancy. This first date with Coyote was just right. 

[crazybagelbitch]

Marshmallow universe. Yes! I am making this thing, don’t look at me. Chim and Maddie are having a hard time as they end their minute, not wanting to bring up the obvious wall that is what happened between them. So they decide to go on a hike and a camping trip with marshmallow!

“Are you sure she’s up for it?” Maddie asks, gesturing to the beloved fluffy dog in the backseat, “the hiking, I mean.”

“Oh please,” Chimney says, taking one hand of the steering well to playfully wave off the comment, “she’s been jogging with me since Hen first made me get a dog. She’s probably in better shape than I am.”

“I know but what about her paws on the rocks?” Maddie asks with a pout, “don’t want to hurt those perfect pink toe beans...”

“She’ll be fine, Madeleine, I got her little hiking booties off the internet.”

“You did?” Maddie giggles.

“Yes, because I’m obsessed with that dog and because I have too much anxiety to have not already thought of all these things. Anymore questions?”

“No, I guess-- wait no, one more. Have you ever been camping before?”

“Yeah, my ma was outdoorsy. What about you?”

“Nope,” she answers, popping the “p.”

“Well, I’m glad your first time is going to be with me and Marshmallow, your two favorite people in the whole word.”

“Marshmallow is a-- no, you’re right, she’s my favorite person in the whole world.”

The air is crispy and the quiet other than the occasional bird call is soothing in a way that Maddie can’t really explain; maybe it’s because it’s so different than the constant buzz of LA? She loves the city, really she does, but it’s a lot more loud and busy then Pennsylvania. 

She knows this whole outing isn’t going to fix her issues, or Chimney’s issues, or the intersection of their issues, but it’s nice to get away and disconnect from the rest of the outside world. No one prying or asking questions about how they’re doing, nobody mentioning her ex-husband...

She turns to Chimney, her current boyfriend whose scars show as his shirt lifts up ever so lightly when he leans down to start the fire. Well, at least it’s not a verbal reminder, but it sucks that there are permanent reminders of what Doug put him through, what he put them both through, on her boyfriend’s stomach. A body is just... a body, just a means of breathing and getting around but it hurts her in ways she can’t articulate that because of this, because of her, his body is forever changed.

There’s a scar on his forehead, too, she reminds herself. A scar that has nothing to do with her or her ex-husband, a scar that marked his skin before she had even met him. This is good, she reminds herself, that he’s managed to survive harrowing injuries twice. Maybe he’ll always have those physical reminders but he’s also alive, which is what matters the most.

“You gonna come sit and roast some marshmallows with me or are you just going to be staring at my majestic beauty all day?”

“Can’t I do both?” she snorts, coming forward to sit in the chair next to him, giggle with Marshmallow lays down, paws crossed, on his other side, “she’s such a good girl, Chim.”

“She is, isn’t she? She just came that way as a rescue, so I can’t even take credit. And she doesn’t even seem offended that we’re roasting marshmallows when that’s, you know, her name.”

“Good girl,” Maddie laughs, “knows how to not take herself too seriously. That maybe she does get from you.”

“I would be offended, but, you’re absolutely correct,” he cackles, throwing his head back and for a moment it’s easy to forget everything that happened with Doug, “don’t think I even took it seriously when I was born. Ma told me I came and then immediately went back to sleep.”

“Wait, really?”

“Really. Guess I was just born that way.”

“Well, I’m glad you were,” Maddie smiles, reaching out a hand to cup his chin, “I wouldn’t laugh nearly as much if I had never met you, Chim.”

“And you laugh at my jokes more than anyone, so. Match made in heaven in my book.”

“Match made in heaven,” she nods, grinning as she leans over to kiss his cheek.

[rhysismydaddy]

Bad Boys of Persia - Part One

Hi! This is a new fic about the ACOTAR ships (Feysand, Elriel, and Nessian). Since everyone always describes the men of this series as having dark hair and dark skin, I thought about how they could look Persian... and then since I’m five I thought about Prince of Persia, and here we are.

Ask in my box if you want to be tagged!

Part Two || Masterlist

Her entire body hurt.

From head to toe, Feyre could hardly move. 

She was laying in her hotel room, spread out on the bed like a starfish, groaning in pain. She glanced down at her bare body, grimacing at the bright red skin she saw. 

And she’d thought the sun in her hometown in Florida was brutal.

She’d only laid out in the sun for an hour, and yet Feyre was as crispy as a piece of fried chicken. She didn’t think an hour would even give her a tan, but it had been long enough to scorch her head to toe and leave her a pathetic mass of red flesh.

After a few minutes of feeling sorry for herself, Feyre got up and dressed in a pair of loose, dark blue genie pants and a long sleeve white shirt. It covered all of her skin but was loose enough to not irritate. She wrapped the navy sari Elain had bought her around her hair so her face wouldn’t get any more sun and headed out the door.

Feyre walked down to the front desk of the resort, asking if they had a store where she could buy aloe.

“What?” the man replied, looking at her like she was crazy.

“Aloe. For sunburn.” She pulled up her sleeve and showed him her burnt skin.

He chuckled. “Ah, white man’s disease. We don’t sell anything for that in the hotel, but you can go to the market and get herbs to help.” He pointed out the door towards the crowd of bustling people buying and selling materials.

Feyre grimaced. She hadn’t left the hotel since their arrival two days ago, something her sisters couldn’t believe. She weighed her options: she could go back to her room and lay around in misery or she could suck it up, go buy some aloe, and then lay around... a little less miserable.

She thought about the disapproving faces Elain and Nesta would give her as she told them she hadn’t left again and frowned. 

It wasn’t that Feyre was trying to ruin their trip; she really wasn’t. She just wasn’t in the mood to explore a new place and be outgoing right now. All Feyre felt like doing was laying in bed and crying.

It’d been three weeks since she’d broken off her engagement with Tamlin. Three weeks since she’d found her in bed with her best friend, Ianthe. They deserve each other, she thought bitterly.

Even though she accepted what had happened and knew it was over, it still hurt. She felt like she’d wasted two years of her life on someone who didn’t ever love her. She didn’t want to date again, she didn’t want to go through the first date nervousness or awkward dates or disappointing hookups. She’d thought she’d found “the one,” but all Feyre had figured out was that love was a lie.

She wanted to be like her sisters. 

Nesta was the oldest and strongest. She’d never allowed herself to get close to anyone, so she’d never had a broken heart. She was a complete badass and she knew it, too. She’d worked for the CIA for the past three years and in that time, had become invaluable to their overseas operations. 

Elain, the middle sister, was strong in a different way. She had perfect control over her emotions and had always been a bright, happy, and loving light in Feyre’s world. She ran her own restaurant in Florida and had become one of the most successful people in their area. Everyone loved Elain. 

Feyre felt like the disappointment of the family. Sure, she was successful in her work as an artist, but no one needed her or loved her like they did her sisters. Lives depended on Nesta, and everyone adored Elain. Feyre could drop off the face of the Earth and no one’s life would change.

She’d thought that Tamlin was the one person who understood her and needed her, but it turned out he’d just been using her.

Her sisters had tried to help when the breakup first happened, but Feyre was inconsolable. She wouldn’t leave bed and only got up to get more ice cream. 

Elain had been gentle and kind and suffocating while trying to get her to open up and tell her how she was feeling. Nesta, who’d always been bad with emotions, had just thrown a suitcase on her bed and begun packing half of Feyre’s closet.

“What are you doing?” she’d asked, sniffling and wiping tears off her face.

“You, me, and Elain are going to Persia.”

“What? What do you mean we’re going to Persia?” she’d asked.

Nesta had sighed dramatically. “We’re getting on a plane. I have to go for work, and I talked my boss into giving me two extra tickets. We leave in three hours. Get up and take a shower.”

“No, Nesta, I’m not going anywhere.”

“I am not letting you die in this bed because some ugly, stupid little fucker cheated on you. Get the fuck up.”

When she hadn’t, Nesta had yelled at her and literally dragged her out of the bed and into the shower, then turned the faucet on, ignoring Feyre’s protests. 

Three hours later and many arguments, thrown shoes, and explicit gestures later, Feyre was sitting with her sisters on a plane, annoyed she’d given in.

“It’s going to be so good for you, Feyre,” Elain had promised. “Nesta is going to have fun at work, I’m going to have fun stuffing my face, and you’re going to have fun looking at art.”

She’d closed her eyes and tried to ignore her sister’s aggressive happiness. 

Thirteen hours later, Feyre was checking into the hotel suite she was sharing with Elain. Nesta, who was going undercover apparently, would be staying at a place provided by her boss, so it was just the two of them. 

Elain had thrown her suitcase on her bed and immediately gone out to the market, coming back with an armful of different foods. 

“It’s so nice out there, Feyre,” she’d said, a bright smile lighting up her face. “You should check it out.”

Feyre had just crawled into her bed, closing her bedroom door.

Two days later, not much had changed.

Feyre glanced back out at the market, noticing the chaos of too many people shouting at each other, decided facing a crowd was better than facing her sisters disappointment, and headed outside. 

As Nesta walked through the open market of Suza, Persia, she couldn’t help but feel like a failure. 

Her boss had been understanding yesterday when she’d reported no new information, but Nesta hated being a disappointment.

Especially with this important of a case. Especially when thirteen girls were still missing. 

She was hunting a human trafficking group that had taken over a dozen girls out of their bed within the past two weeks.

This was one of the most important cases Nesta had ever worked, and it all had rested on her being able to sell a story.

Nesta was bait.

Their entire operation rested on her getting the groups attention and getting kidnapped. She had a chip permanently implanted in her left heel--somewhere people were less likely to search--and the idea was that Nesta would allow them to take her, make sure she could get a visual on the other thirteen girls, then cut the tracker. 

Lucien, one of the IT guys she worked with, would be able to tell where the signal had been cut and would send her team in. 

All she had to do was get kidnapped. 

But it was proving more difficult than she’d anticipated. She’d been here for two days, and she hadn’t felt threatened in the slightest. The city was beautiful and clean and the people she’d met so far had been friendly.

Nesta was determined to make something happen today, though. 

She’d made sure to put on more makeup than usual, drawing more attention to her, and had pulled her hijab back far enough to show off her blonde hair. She was wearing a short jean skirt and a tank top, more skin than a lot of other women were showing. 

She was sauntering through Suza, looking like a naive, young, tourist, when she noticed three men, siting in a cafe at the edge of the market, looking at her.

One of them nodded and raised an eyebrow flirtatiously, and Nesta forced herself to smile broadly. 

She could see why so many women had fallen in his trap. He was gorgeous in a dangerous, exotic way. His skin was the deepest shade of caramel, hair long and curly, and body was lined with thick muscle. His eyes, the most alluring part of him, were a deep golden color, rimmed with thick eyelashes and eyebrows.

He was the most beautiful man Nesta had ever seen.

She had to restrain herself from spitting on him.

She waved and kept walking, slow enough that they could easily tail her. Only the man who’d nodded got up, though. Apparently, they thought he could handle her alone.

She made sure to ignore him as she walked back to her apartment, almost rolling her eyes at how bad of a tail the man following her was.

Nesta even made sure to take a few selfies in front of pretty buildings to really sell the story.

She went inside the apartment--the CIA kept a few in Persia for operations like this--washed up, laid in bed, and waited.

Three hours later, she heard the lock to her loft click open. She closed her eyes, ignoring the almost-silent footsteps she heard the stranger take toward her closed door.

When her door creaked open, Nesta forced herself to snore softly. 

His heavy hand clamped a cloth drenched in chloroform over her mouth, and as Nesta began to lose consciousness, she looked into his beautiful, sad eyes and thought, I’ll kill you. I don’t care what it’s going to take.

The man thought he’d caught his prey, but what he didn’t know was the girl he carried down the stairs and out into the night was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. One who wanted nothing more than to destroy his life.

Elain floated through the market, tilting her face towards the scorching sun and smiling. The hot air was full of scents of dried meat, cumin, roasting vegetables, and black pepper. 

As soon as they’d landed, Elain had gone to the nearest restaurant she could find and stuffed her face. 

She’d eaten somewhere different for breakfast lunch and dinner both the days she’d been here, making sure to talk to the chefs whenever she could.

Her travel journal was full of new recipes and spices and ways of cooking. 

This was her favorite part of traveling. Seeing how different people made food and learning how to make her own dishes better.

She walked along the street, then spotted a small, open restaurant on the corner. Morrigan, the sign read. It seemed quiet and authentic and quaint, so Elain walked in and sat at an empty table.

She loved the place before she even ordered. The walls were brick, a large mural covering one, and there was a small corner with a wood fireplace. The people were all talking softly, and traditional Benju music was playing over the speakers quietly. 

It was serene and peaceful. The entire restaurant was there to appreciate the food. It was the kind of place Elain wanted her restaurant to be. 

A server came up a few moments later, dressed in black pants and a flowing black top, her hijab a dark blue color, bringing out the teal of her eyes. She was beautiful in a classic way. 

She asked if Elain spoke Persian, and she responded a little.

“I speak little English,” she said apologetically.

Elain shook her head. “Don’t apologize for your culture. I’m in your country. We’ll just do our best.”

She asked the woman what her favorite dish was, and she smiled and recommended the Dizi, a traditional Persian dish named after the stone crock it’s cooked in. 

She wisely listened to the recommendation, and ten minutes later, Elain was eating the best stew she’d ever had in her life.

The chickpeas were soft but not soggy, the chicken was tender and flavored to perfection, and the base was powerful but not overwhelming. There was something else she couldn’t quite place, something she’d never tasted before. 

She dipped a piece of naan into the mixture, smiling happily.

After she’d downed the whole bowl, Elain decided she had to meet the creator of the dish. As she was paying her bill, she asked her server if the restaurant owner was here in her broken Persian. 

She shook her head and responded, “No, but he’ll be here tonight.”

Elain debated her options. She’d vowed to not eat at the same place twice, but she’d also vowed to talk to chefs whenever she could. And she knew when he was coming in...

She didn’t let her self debate for long. She wanted to know what the secret ingredient was and applaud the chef, even if he wouldn’t tell her.

After going back to the hotel, she took a long bath and recorded what she’d done that day in her journal. She pulled her hair back, then put on jeans and a white blouse, slipping her hair under a pink hijab that matched her lipstick. 

She smiled at her reflection before going to see Feyre in her adorning room. Elain knocked softly on the door between their rooms, going in when she didn’t hear an answer.

She walked into her bedroom, eyebrows lifting when she saw the bed was empty. “Feyre?” she called out, then smiled when no one answered. 

She went out.

Elain went back into her room, grabbed her purse and--rolling her eyes--the pepper spray Nesta had forced her to bring, then walked out of the hotel.

She smiled when she walked back into Morrigan, inhaling the smell of roasted turkey and vegetables and spices. After she got seated and looked at the menu, she ordered pomegranate soup, another Persian classic she hadn’t tried yet.

“And I’d love to meet the chef if he has a moment,” she said. 

Her server looked down at the ground, nodded, and said, “I’ll see if he has a moment.”

When her soup was brought out, she became more determined to meet him. She’d thought the pomegranate would be overwhelming with all the other ingredients, but the seeds added a crunchiness and fruity flavor to the otherwise dense stew. 

She motioned her server over and asked, “Is the chef available?” as she gave him money for the soup.

“He’s in the back,” he muttered, motioning towards a dim alley leading to a back exit.

“Can I go back there?”

He shrugged, slipped her a receipt, and walked away. 

That was strange, Elain thought, but shook the thought away as she got up and began to walk towards the back rooms of the restaurant.

The Persian symbol for “management” was written on a black door, so Elain knocked and waited for an answer.

A few moments later, she knocked again. She could see someone was there; light was coming out from underneath the door. 

Maybe he couldn’t hear her over the restaurant’s music? She tried the door handle, surprised to find it unlocked.

“Hi,” she called out in Persian as she opened the door, then froze as she beheld what was in front of her.

Her server from earlier that day was sitting on a chair, topless, clutching the huge, jagged wound across her stomach. Tears were streaming down her face as someone knelt in front of her, dabbing the area with a wet towel.

The man dropped the towel as he saw Elain, spun around, and was in front of her before she could mutter another word. He slapped the door closed, and walked forward, Elain backing away, until her back hit the frame. 

His hands planted themselves on either side of her head. 

“What are you doing in here?” he asked, voice low and heavy with a thick Persian accent. 

Elain felt like a lamb caught in a lion’s teeth. Her heart started racing and she realized she was utterly alone here. She couldn’t breathe, let alone answer his question. 

His blue eyes bore into hers, and he growled, “Answer the fucking question.” 

“I was just looking for the chef,” she blurted. “I’m a cook; I just wanted to meet the chef.”

He stopped short at that, a strange look--pride?--in his eyes for a split second. 

Then the anger was back.

“Get out,” he growled, swinging the door open.

“Is she okay? Should we take her to a hospital?”

The wound looked deep and swollen; she definitely needed medical attention. And was that... was that a bloody nail  on the ground next to her? What the hell was going on?”

Anger took over, and before Elain could talk herself down, she was shoving past him, and kneeling next to the woman, inspecting the wound closer. 

“Did you do this to her?” she yelled at the man still standing at the door. 

It was his turn to get angry. He surged forward and grabbed her arm before opening the door with such energy, he almost ripped it off the hinges. 

“Get the fuck out. And don’t come back.”

She looked at the woman again, the tears flowing freely down her beautiful face, and vowed to get her out of this place. I’m not someone you fuck with, she thought angrily as he slammed the door in her face. And I’m sure as hell going to be back.

________________________________________________________________

Thank you for reading! Part Two.

[timelordthirteen]

In All Things 14/?

Mr. Gold/BelleFrench, Explicit (eventually)

Summary: A Rumbelle arranged marriage AU.

Chapter Summary: Belle tries to get some answers from her father, but not is all as it seems, and in the middle of the night she makes a terrible discovery.

Notes: Once again this chapter didn't end up where I wanted it to. I'm going to end up drawing all this out just because I'm terrible at estimating how long these chapters will be. Sorry I'm like this. For the 31 Days prompt #16: fire.

[AO3]

Previous: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13]

Belle marched down the corridor.

The sound of her heels was loud and sharp, matching the cadence of her heart as she stalked towards her father’s study. Her fingers curled into fists as she came to the door, ready to kick and scream if necessary until Milton let her see her father. She pounded on the door three times and stepped back with her hands on her hips.

It creaked open and Milton’s thin, boney face appeared in the gap, his oddly pale eyes narrowing at her.

“I want to see my father,” she said firmly.

He moved back and began to close the door, but she caught the edge of it with her hand and pushed into the space, using her hip and shoulder to force it back open.

“Now.”

Milton drew back, his mouth opening to say something, but a voice from inside the room stopped him.

“Milton? Who’s there?”

“Papa?” she called out. “It’s me!”

“Belle!” came Maurices voice from inside. “Petal, come in, let me see you.”

She shot a glare at the steward, and stepped passed him into the room.

Maurice got up from his desk, a large mahogany thing with carvings on the sides, and came around to greet his daughter. He held out his hands to take hers and lifted them to his lips where he pressed a kiss to the back of each one.

“Belle, my dear, I thought you were to arrive yesterday?”

She squeezed his fingers with hers. “We did, we arrived just before supper.” She glanced over at Milton and met his stern gaze with one of her own.

Maurice frowned. “No one told me.” Then he looked to Milton, who had the decency to look sheepish when fixed with the questioning eyes of his master.

“My Lord,” the steward said, bowing at the waist, “I apologize, you were resting and I didn’t want to disturb you.”

Maurice shook his head. “I always want to be disturbed for my favorite daughter.”

Belle rolled her eyes, smiling in spite of her annoyance at Milton’s clear defiance of her father’s wishes. “I’m your only daughter.”

Maurice leaned in and kissed her forehead. “Yes, precisely.” She laughed, and let him lay her arm over his. “Come, let’s talk in the library where it’s not so cluttered. Milton, put the ledgers away, we’ll finish this later.”

They passed by Milton as he mumbled a quick “yes my Lord,” and made the short trip from the study to the double doors of the library.

“Is everything alright, Papa?” she asked as he eased the doors closed.

“Of course,” he replied, motioning towards the velvet covered lounge with the sloped, curving back. “Didn’t you read my letter, my girl?”

“Well, yes, but - it was just a bit strange.”

Maurice let out a soft grunt as he sat, and Belle noted that he seemed to be favoring his left knee again. He’d injured it last summer dismounting a horse he had no business riding in the first place, when he landed in the mud and twisted his leg. It had bothered him off and on ever since, and it occurred to Belle that perhaps Gold’s issue was as simple and embarrassing as that. Of course he wouldn’t want to tell her everything about it when it was such an innocuous and silly thing.

“What was strange about it?” Maurice asked.

Belle sighed. “You talked of the winter preparations, the repairs to the mill, but nothing about how you were, or whether things have improved now that the debt was paid down. It - it made me worry, Papa.”

“Oh, my dear,” he said, lifting her hand with his and letting it drop on his knee. “Everything is well. I am well, see?”

He leaned back and puffed out his chest, and she laughed softly, shaking her head. “Yes, yes I see. Your knee is bothering you though, isn’t it?”

He sighed and nodded. “Yes, but it’s nothing. I’m an old man and I’m allowed to succumb to some aches and pains, am I not?”

“Yes, Papa,” she replied, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “And you are not old.”

The look he gave her made her giggled again, and she could feel some of her anxiety lessening. The incident with Milton was still sticking in her mind as suspicious. She knew she should trust her father, and trust in his confidence in Milton, but she wondered if it might be possible to get a peek at the ledgers, just to be sure.

“You’re sure everything is alright?”

Maurice huffed and straightened. “Yes, I’m quite sure. Where is all this coming from? Do you not trust me to run my own estate?”

She wanted to point out that trusting him to run his estate was how they’d gotten to the state they were in, well, that and the war in the south that King George had insisted on fighting. Now that it was over, the kingdom was rebuilding and recovering, but Avonlea still seemed to lag behind for some reason, and while she understood her father’s reluctance to discuss all his private matters with her, she felt that the status of the house of her mother’s family, which might still someday be her inheritance, was something she had a right to understand.

“No, no, it’s not that,” she insisted. Then she sighed. “It’s just different now that I’m not here. I wonder and I worry, and I won’t apologize for that.”

He exhaled and nodded, and reached for her hand again, holding in one hand while he patted the back of it with the other. “No, no, I don’t suppose you will.”

He hadn’t exactly agreed to tell her more, but she supposed for now she’d have to settle for him at least trying to understand. There was another matter she was hesitant to broach, but this was likely to be her only opportunity to speak with him alone for the near future. “Why didn’t Milton tell you I was here last night?”

Maurice let go of her hand and bristled at the question. ‘Why are you so suspicious, my girl? You marry that - that snake Gold - and now you come back and question everything? I thought you were here to visit because it’s been weeks since we’ve seen each other, and yet you sit here interrogating me?”

Belle sprang to her feet, her brow knit in consternation. “What do you mean by that? It’s not as if I had a choice in who I married, or did you forget the sad state of affairs of those ledgers just a month ago?”

“Belle, please, I didn’t mean that. Only that if Gaston hadn’t - ” He sighed. “If not for that, then Gold wouldn’t have been an option. This is not how it was supposed to be.”

“No,” she said, quickly stepping back when her father tried to take her hand again. “It’s not how it was supposed to be at all, nor how I wanted it to be, but that didn’t matter did it?”

“My dear -”

The doors opened just then, and they both stopped, toe to toe between the sofa and the fireplace. Milton stood in the doorway, a slight smirk on his face that Belle wanted to slap right off his long face.

“Pardon me, my Lord, there is a letter from Meryton that needs your attention.”

Maurice sighed. “We’ll talk after dinner, alright?”

She nodded, and gave Milton another hard stare, which he returned with a sneer behind her father’s back. As soon as the doors closed, she flopped down on the sofa and squeezed one of the pillows in anger as she stared into the fire. Her father was keeping something from her, and she didn’t know why, but it was obvious that Milton was part of it. They’d never had an adversarial relationship before, always being quite courteous but distant.

The former steward, Edward, died at the very old age of eighty-one. By then Avonlea was already in debt and approaching dire straits. After a few months of her father struggling on his own to maintain everything, with Belle trying to help where she could, King George had recommended Milton. In hindsight, Belle knew she should have seen that as strange, and she made a mental note to mention it to Gold.

Dinner had been one of Belle’s favorite dishes, crispy duck with a sauce made from plums and red wine, with the last of the season’s squash and apples roasted alongside it. Gold remarked that he could see why she preferred it, and the grin he gave her made her hopeful that he would mention it to Ms. Potts when they returned and she might get to enjoy it more often than when she visited Avonlea. Even Bae, who was normally a very picky eater, was pleased, and she counted it as a significant victory that they all made it through with light, pleasant conversation and full bellies. It was one of those hearty meals that signaled the end of autumn and the coming winter, and it always left her with a warm, contented feeling.

Except she was not so content this evening. Her father had begged off speaking with her after they ate, giving her a flimsy excuse about his knee aching and wishing to rest it in a hot bath. Her father never did what was best for him in that way, and he had never liked very hot baths before, usually preferring them more lukewarm so it didn’t make his skin itch. She supposed things could change, but not in just a few weeks.

Here she was again, restless, unable to sleep, and taken to worrying about everything to the point where she was considering sneaking into her father’s study to get a look at the ledgers. She glanced at the door of her room again and bit her lip. It was late and everyone else was probably asleep, but there was one person that she considered it was possible was not. Milton had always claimed a tendency towards insomnia, which was why he often worked late during the evenings, but even he shouldn’t be in the study at this hour.

Belle paced the space between the bed and the sofa several times, mulling over her plan, before sighing and giving in to temptation. She took the tall candle from her bedside table and wiggled her feet into her slippers before easing the bedroom door open. The hall was dark save for the two candles that were left lit through the night, but she stared down it for some time all the same until her eyes adjusted to the dimness and she could make out enough shadowy shapes to navigate her way safely.

It took her only a few minutes to make her way down the back stairway the servants used and cross through the drawing room to the main hallway. At the end of it was the study, and she waited at the door for a full minute before she opened it. The door was thankfully dark save for the remains of a fire, and she shivered as she stepped into the chilly room.

She pulled her robe tighter and came around the desk, setting the candlelight to the left of the ledger. Her fingers traced the cover, hesitating before she opened it, and she blew out a breath and closed her eyes before lifting it.

The first page was nothing more than rows of numbers copied over from the previous ledger, which seemed to have ended just after her marriage. She could see that everything appeared to be in order, the debts had been cancelled out, and the expenses and taxes didn’t outweigh the income from the harvest. She smiled and turned the page, only to have her face fall. The next set of numbers were less comforting, and there was one entry for a not insignificant sum that had no notation as to what it was for, nor a name for the payment. It was possible that her father had simply forgotten to write it down, but she didn’t think Milton would be that sloppy.

The next page had another of the same entry for almost the same amount, and again there was no notation or name. The total at the bottom was surprisingly low for an end of season harvest, particularly one that they had expected to be the best in several years. She bit her lip and looked at the next page, letting it fall from her fingers as she gasped.

Several rows of torn paper stuck up and she trailed her fingertips over them, counting at least four pages that had been ripped from the book. Her breathing increased as she felt the telltale twist in her gut that told her she was correct in a way she hoped never to be. The glow from the candle and the fire gave the whole scene an ominous feeling, and she turned the next page slowly, swallowing hard as she revealed the inevitable.

Row after row of figures went down the page, including one of the empty entries, now infamous in her mind. At the bottom, she could see the sad truth, that Avonlea was in debt again, to at least three different creditors this time, instead of just to the royal treasury. Her heart sunk all the way to her feet and she pressed a hand to her mouth as a sick feeling rose up in her throat. In spite of Gold’s payments to the King, her father was well on his way to ruin all over again.

She staggered back from the desk, knocking against the chair and making it scrap against the wood floor. The sound was startlingly loud, and she held very still, waiting for another sound that would tell her if anyone overheard. After a minute or two of nothing, she sat down in the chair with her head in her hands.

Her marriage, leaving home, Gold’s money.

It had all been for nothing.

She lifted her head and stared at the ledger for a long moment before reaching out to flip back to the torn pages. What had been on them that needed to be torn out? And who had done it? Was it her father in a fit of anger, or Milton trying to hide what was happening until it was too late?

The fire snapped, and she jumped in her seat. Her eyes fixed on the fireplace, and she pushed to her feet, crossing quickly to the hearth. She knelt down on the warm stone in front of it and peered into the flames and ashes. Even the heat from the low fire was searing this close, and she winced as she leaned closer. Near the front she made a discovery that raised her eyebrows to her hairline, the remains of at least two sheets of paper, the same color and weight as the pages of the ledger.

[angelcatsiel]

I reblogged an ask game thing the other day but no one sent any asks so I just fuckin answered them all because I was bored and I am learning to not give a fuck what anyone thinks of me and it was fun

1. What is your favorite childhood story of yourself?

This is a hard one. I want to think of a funny one but my childhood wasn’t great. My dad has told me that when I was a toddler, before I can remember, he used to play AC/DC and I used to put clothes pegs in my hair for some unknown reason, stand on the sofa and violently headbang.

2. What is the stupidest way you have ever gotten hurt?

When I was about 11, I was swinging on a swing in the garden, and got curious about what would happen if I put my hands right at the very bottom of the chains while I was swinging. The answer was that I fell off backwards and hit my head. I went in to my dad crying, calmed down, and went back on the swing again. I tried to work out what exactly I had done to cause myself to fall off. I remember thinking, I think I held the chains near the bottom like this... and tested the theory, and fell off again, and hit my head again.

This is one of many stupid injuries. Other considerations were the time I climbed up a slide and hit my head on the bar at the top and knocked myself out, or the time I got kicked by a horse in a field and grabbed onto the electric fence to hold myself up.

3. What was the first PG-13 movie you watched?

Literally no idea.

4. What was the first R rated movie you watched?

I think it may have been the first Deadpool? Haven’t seen that many tbh

5. When was the moment you felt most badass?

When I was about 8, I was at the park with my brother, and this much older kid (maybe about 16 or 17, hardly a kid) with an aggressive dog stole my brother’s ice cream money. I marched up to him and demanded he give it back. He let his dog off the lead and it sniffed around my ankles and growled, and he told me it would bite me if I ran. I stood there and stared him down for a good 20 seconds or so before he called back the dog and walked away. I didn’t get the money back.

6. What is a band you can reliably always love?

Marillion. Favourite band, always.

7. What is your favorite form of self expression?

Probably singing even though I’m very bad at it.

8. What is something from your childhood you wish you still had?

My stuffed rabbit Hoppy. I haven’t been able to find him in several years. Can’t think about it too hard or I’ll cry.

9. Where is your favorite place on earth?

The Isle of Wight. My dad used to take me and my brother there for holidays every few years. It’s beautiful and full of memories, the most precious memories being the time we saved up vouchers in the newspaper to go the year after my dad left his abusive wife and ended up homeless. We were so poor but with the vouchers we could just afford to go, and it was the first time I saw my dad happy in a long time.

10. What is the longest friendship you have ever had?

My best friend @van-helsa124 who I have known since literally nursery and I love her so much.

11. Is there anyone is your life you wish you had met sooner than you did?

Maybe my friend Luce who I only met a couple of years ago, but we’ve grown close pretty quick.

12. Do you believe in ghosts?

Yep definitely. Pretty sure I was visited by my gran after she died and I’ve had a few creepy experiences.

13. What is the coldest water you have ever swam in?

No idea tbh, I don’t swim much

14. How old were you when you learned how to swim?

Maybe 8 or 9? I had lessons in primary school.

15.  What song do you listen to when you’re sad?

Never Grow Up by Taylor Swift. It’s my cry song.

16. Are you an adrenaline junky?

Yep! Love roller coasters and stuff like that, and would love to do something extreme like jump out of a plane or something.

17. What is a song that takes you back to childhood?

I have a few but the main ones are probably Man on the Moon by REM, and You Were Right by Badly Drawn Boy.

18. What is your favorite word?

Not sure I have one. For some reason the only one coming to mind is a place not too far from where my family live called Biggleswade, and I have to say it every time we drive past because I love saying it. I also love saying tiddies at every opportunity.

19. What is your least favorite word?

Don’t think I have a least favourite either, the usual infamous ones (e.g. moist) don’t really bother me.

20. What scent reminds you of childhood?

Cherryade. I drank some several years ago and the smell before I tasted it transported me immediately back to my childhood and a memory I’d completely forgotten, which was my gran constantly buying me a shit ton of cherryade every time I stayed over her house.

21. Were you sad when you found out clouds weren’t like pillows, or did you never think that?

I don’t think I was sad, I think I was just curious and interested to learn, and I tried to come up with new interesting ways of describing the feeling of clouds in my head, since even as a kid I loved to write.

22. When in life did you laugh the hardest?

A few times come to mind and they all involve @van-helsa124. A lot would make absolutely no sense, no matter how much I tried to explain. They’re now ‘friendship memes’. The only one that might be explainable is the first time we ever got drunk, to celebrate achieving ultimate friendship, after we found out that her mum had believed me and her were in a relationship for a year and a half. We even created our own drink, named the year and a half, which was literally just a mix of vodka, koppaberg, rose wine and cloudy lemonade. Tasted better than it sounds. Got me drunk in about 0.5 seconds. Ended the night hugging her trash can trying not to throw up while she read me a destiel fanfic to take my mind off feeling sick

23. What makes you laugh when you don’t feel like laughing?

Old yogscast videos.

24. Do you come from a big family?

Fairly big, lots of aunts and uncles and cousins.

25. What is your favorite part of yourself?

My positivity and the inner strength that I have, that helps me find happiness and courage even when my mental health is low.

26. What is the worst pain you have ever felt?

Trigeminal neuralgia pain (facial nerve pain). Spent 90% of January this year constantly crying and even screaming in pain. Hospital couldn’t do anything for me. I get occasional flare ups now but nothing that severe, but it’s probably going to come back. Feels like someone trying to rip out my cheekbone and jawbone or like someone is literally drilling into the bones in my face, and that’s the milder part. Every so often that pain is interrupted by stabs of sharper pain like electric shocks which have caused me to collapse to the floor screaming. 0/10 do not recommend

27. Do you swear often?

Not super often out loud but very often in my head.

28. Do you get confused for being older or younger than you are?

People always assume I’m younger than I am. I get asked for ID for everything.

29. What is your favorite way to eat a potato?

Probably roast potatoes, but they’ve gotta be done right. Soft inside, crispy outside, and obviously with herbs and spices.

30. What is the best compliment you have ever received?

Honestly no idea.

31. Describe yourself in 6 words?

Slightly unstable yet somehow happy weirdo

32. What is the worst insult you have ever received?

Can’t think of any major insults either lmao no one talks to me apparently

33. Have you ever taken in any media that changed your life?

The Good Place and Supernatural. With supernatural it wasn’t the actual show so much as the friendships it made me and the confidence and happiness the conventions gave me, at a time when my mental health was at its worst, although the show helped massively too. Idc if it’s cringey, it kept me alive. The Good Place changed my entire worldview and actually made me less afraid of death.

34. Have you ever collected anything?

My model horses! I have at least 10 at this point

35. Strangest thing you have ever broken?

As in bones or objects? Can’t think of any objects and the only time I ever broke a bone was when I broke my toe at like 12:01am on new year’s day when I got up to pour myself another drink and tripped over the table

36. Weirdest food you have ever eaten?

I’m not that adventurous with food so nothing that weird

37. Childhood nickname?

My dad would call me Flo. Not sure why.

38. Most people you have shared a bed with in a non sexual manner?

Two. Shared a bed with my best friend and my other friend Josh, once at a convention, once at Josh’s birthday. Birthday one is a bit blurry as I was drunk but at the convention I got to be in the middle and spooned Josh while my best friend spooned me and it was very cosy

39. What is something that makes you fall asleep?

The Marillion song Angelina, or this one ASMR video that’s supposed to be the sound of being in the Impala with the Winchesters. Laugh all you want, I like it.

40. Did your parents ever accidentally lose or forget you?

No but my teacher did once, can’t remember the context, I think she had to drive me and some other girls somewhere for some club event and when we got back to the school she forgot me in the car because I was so quiet lmao

41. If you were a superhero what would your weakness be?

I would be a terrible superhero and have many weaknesses. Loud noises would immediately put me out of action. Someone makes eye contact with me and I disintegrate immediately

42. What food reminds you of home?

Tuna pasta! With this one specific sauce that my mum used to make it with

43. What is your comfort food?

Probably also that tuna pasta. And chocolate. A shit ton of chocolate.

44. Cold room with lots of blankets or hot room with no blankets?

Cold room with lots of blankets, no question.

45. No shoes without socks or no shoes with socks?

No shoes without socks

46. Do you run hot your cold?

I am presuming this means ‘do you run hot or cold’ and the answer is, usually, both simultaneously. My body has no idea what temperature regulation is. Catch me out for a walk in short sleeves in the snow, sweating profusely while violently shivering bc I’m feeling extremely hot internally but my skin is freezing (and yes, I have actually done this). Do I have some sort of legit medical issue? No one knows, least of all my doctors!

47. Favorite condiment?

Probably ketchup. Though I also love garlic dip. Does that count as a condiment?

48. What utensil do you use the most?

Probably my tongs for turning chicken and stuff

49. When are you most comfortable?

Any time I’m home alone, just doing my own thing

50. If you could be really good at one thing, what would it be?

Singing! I would love to be an amazing singer but sadly I am a terrible singer though I do practice every day in the vain hope that maybe my voice will improve. If the neighbours could hear me they would have killed me by now

[imagineclaireandjamie]

When discussing what they missed about the 20th century with Brianna Claire mentioned messy cheeseburgers with all the fixings. Can we get a scene of Claire and Bree enjoying the previously mentioned meal together in Boston?

Missing moment in 4x10.

Claire tried like hell not to think of what she had left behind in the twentieth century.

Her daughter. Their daughter.

Plumbing.

Motor vehicles.

Radios.

Cinemas.

Electric kettles.

Furnaces.

Toilet roll.

Tampons and sanitary napkins.

Diner food.

Well-constructed undergarments.

But she could not help her mind from drafting a litany of these things when faced with some ordinary task or another.  

As they attempted to slice a piece of roast pork, she could not help but call to mind the ease with which modern cutlery or an electric knife could accomplish the task.  But she would never say it aloud.

Catching Ian’s curious eye when she unconsciously reached for the tap on a faucet that did not exist over the bowl of dishes at the end of a meal, she smiled, shrugged, concentrated on the washing up.  She never provided an explanation.  

As she doubled over in pain, melting into Jamie’s thumbs as they massaged away cramps, she mumbled a plea for a heating pad and an aspirin.  He made a sound, low but sweet, and continued kneading the muscles.

It had been easy to set aside these conveniences on her first trip to the eighteenth century.  

Adrenaline had coursed through her then as she engaged in a series of machinations to maintain her lie (my-husband-he-is-dead-and-I-am-traveling-to-France-please-pass-the-potatoes), and endeavored to stay alive.  For her safety (her brush with a Scottish witch trial had been more than enough incentive to think fast) and Jamie’s, she had tended to keep outward indicia of her modernity under cover.

However, on her second trip to the eighteenth century, her lips were infinitely looser.  With age, isolation on the Ridge, and the sheer boundlessness of the space around them and from others, she let slip seemingly harmless perks of modern life.  Ian’s fascinated, though sometimes doubtful looks, spurred her on.  Emboldened by her nephew’s thousand mile stare, she described such fantastic things as:

Ice cubes in freezers right in the kitchen, produced with abundance.

Matches, their easy strike along the pad and the tangy, elemental burn of them in the sinuses.

Fans on hot days, maintaining an artificial breeze that could wick sweat from the skin.

Stores with everything imaginable in profane volume – meats and cheeses, pickled vegetables and fresh produce, cans of food for family pets (eyes going wide at the thought of Rollo eating dog food from a tin).

Deodorant in pre-formed sticks or aerosol cans.

Showers with seemingly infinite hot water and soap that smelled like springtime or the ocean or tropical fruits.

Produce all year long.

However, Claire again became more circumspect in her mentioning of these things over time.  

The last thing she wanted was for Jamie to think that she prioritized things and stuff and modern conveniences over her connection with him. After all, he was the bedrock of the epic kind of love that she had returned through time to find. She saw the periodic twitch in his upper lip as he fought the inclination to ask if she wanted to return to her time when they argued, woke cross with one another over some misdemeanor or another, or she cursed hotly about this or that being a bother.

But when Bree appeared on the Ridge, Claire felt a certain freeness in letting slip these small things.  At least to their daughter’s ears.  She was particularly loose about the future and their past when she saw distance unfurl in her daughter’s eyes. All that had happened was an extinguishing Bree’s very life. She could see it in her daughter’s eyes (her husband’s eyes). A pain that had gone bone deep, that she had cause to know intimately. Bree’s mind was meandering on a path far, far away.  

One chilly afternoon shortly after Bree arrived at the Ridge, when the air was not quite crisp enough to make their cheeks sting and go pink, mother and daughter folded linens outdoors.  Then, Claire saw it plain as day in Bree.  The way her daughter’s eyes were weighted, pulled as if by gravity to the task of folding instead of up and into a study of the world around them. After observing her for a series of long moments, Claire made a choice.

To indulge in talk of the home that they had known together.

“Hamburgers,” Claire said plainly, lining the edges of a sheet.  “Messy cheeseburgers. With all the fixings. From Carmie’s.”

Bree looked wistful for a moment before offering, “Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.”

Their game went on for only a minute, but the change in Bree at Claire’s acknowledgment of her longing for home was palpable. 

That night as their dinner wound down (candles close to the nub, bellies full, the glow of intoxication apparent in the apples of Jamie’s cheeks), Bree speared one of the fragrant, bulbous canned tomatoes left on her plate. Closing one eye, she held it up to the low, flickering light.  

“This,” she declared. “Only sliced and fresh.  Grilled mushrooms.  Swiss cheese so thick you really have to chew it or it’ll be all down the front of your blouse.”

A breath, closing the other eye then.  

“And caramelized onions that are almost too sweet.” She hummed, low and content. “Mayonnaise. A thick glob right from the giant, mass-produced jar of it.  And a pickle spear. Two of them. I’ll have yours, mom, you always leave it anyway.”

Tilting her head, she opened her eyes and surveyed her audience. 

“French fries. Lots of ketchup with black pepper shaken into it, stirred with the tip of my fork.”

Claire made an ecstatic sound, sinking back into her chair with her mug of water.  “Keep the Swiss and mushrooms, add lettuce and cheddar.”

“The good white cheddar?” Bree inquired. 

Claire grimaced, rolled her eyes. “Of course. Nothing but. And the chips must be extra crispy. I hate soggy fries.”

“Cheeseburgers,” Bree sighed, eyes almost cloudy with food lust.

Jamie looked between his wife and daughter, brow furrowed, before shaking his head.

That night, Jamie took his wife by the waist as she stripped down to her shift, fingers insistent at her hipbones.

“Cheese burr-gurrs?” he asked, voice halting with unfamiliarity at the words being joined together.

Snorting, Claire turned in his arms. She smoothed the ditch of a furrow from between his brows, carefully gathering her encyclopedic explanation. “Ground meat, either seared on a flat top or grilled over a flame.  Bread.  Melted cheese. Ketchup.  Mustard. Mayonnaise…”

(He had tasted mustard. He had heard of course of mayonnaise – cream and eggs, tangy on the finish - but never tasted it. He let slide Bree’s mention of “ketchup” without a request for further elaboration.  He had seen enough of his daughter to know when lightness was acting as a barrier for some other pit of emotion.  He had been there intimately enough to know the purpose of diverting oneself from what really laid beneath meaningless banter over this or that.)

“Eating that kind of diner food… it’s a nostalgia thing for Bree.”

Raising an eyebrow, he said, “Oh, aye?”

“Every time she got a good report card from school with good marks, the two of us would go to a diner down the street from our house.  We would sit at the counter and order cheeseburgers, chips, and ice cream sundaes.”

Claire’s heart skipped a beat before she said what she said next, but she had to say it to put the experience into context for him.

“Frank never came along.  It was our time. We bonded.”

Jamie pushed aside the curls that were acting as a veil over her neck and nestled his face close to her throat. It was as if by absorbing with his lips the vibration of his wife’s words, he would have the memory for himself, feel the nostalgia bubble in his veins at the mention of cheeseburgers.

“Bree would tell me about school, what she wanted to be when she grew up.  It varied significantly over time, of course, as young children are wont to change their young minds.  A pediatrician.  A veterinarian.  A violinist.  A race car driver.  A physicist.  A historian.  When she was older, we talked about her plans for university.”

“Ye think fondly of those times.”  

“I do.” A pause, a breath, her pulse flickering under his mouth. “She talked about boys only once. I told her about the birds and the bees.  She grumbled and rolled her eyes and hissed, insisting she already knew all of it.”

Claire faded away for a moment before Jamie took her chin.  “Those moments are dear to ye, are they no’? Ye’ll no’ ever forget the times with her at the diner with the… cheese-bur-gers.”

Claire could almost taste hot fudge and whipped cream, the cherry on top. She could sense her teeth breaking through the light char of the meat and tongue absorb the grease exploding across her tongue. She could see Bree clutching the yellow slip of paper on which a series of A’s were listed with comments about her meaningful contributions in Social Studies and her thoughtful commentary on a Robert Frost poem in English Literature.  She could feel the chrome of the counter against her bare knees and smell the hot oil.  She could picture Bree.  Her toothy grin, locked down in a cage of orthodontia, and a pimple quietly growing under concealer filched from Claire’s cosmetics bag.

Claire turned and carded her hands into Jamie’s hair, drawing his face close.  She studied him for a time, the blue earnestness in his eyes.  He wanted to know, even if it meant that he would never have those moments.  

“I’ll never forget.”

[sailorzakuro]

Com-Myu-nity Survey

Been working on this with Takaa and now I get to answer the questions! I’ll tag @kosmosinusa and @vampiru-chan! Also anyone feel free to do this anyway XD.

1. What is your hobby?

Well mostly YouTube and social media, so technically this is my hobby XD.

2. What is your special skill?

I guess audio editing?? Atm I’m making a Nogizaka46 karaoke but I had to shorten it first so I guess that’s a skill? XD.

3. What are your strengths and weaknesses?

Strengths: I don’t like complimenting myself omg I guess I don’t let things get to me?? Like ‘nasty comments with Zakuro’ that started on my first hate comment and we all know how I just laughed at that XD.

Weaknesses: I have SERIOUS anger issues. Like, when I say I have impulsive anger people think I’m just playing it up, no honestly I am known to throw things, break things, slam things, do not let me hold anything expensive when I’m frustrated cos it will break. I get it from my Dad but I legit think I’m worse than him XD. Oh also fyi I’ve done this before if I’m being harsh to you about seemingly nothing PLEASE TELL ME cos I don’t know I’m doing it oops.

4. What is your favoUrite coloUr?

Turquoise, teal, anything in the bluey-greeny spectrum really and black. Also red (anger YEET).

5. What is your favoUrite animal?

PENGUINS THEY’RE SO FUCKING ADORABLE I LOVE THEM.

6. Which food are you into lately?

I’m unhealthy as fuck, chocolate cake XD.

7. What is the thing you never lose to from anyone?

Sass war?

8. What is your most treasured item?

I would be typical and say my Myu merch, but it’s my Yoshi cuddly I got from Camelot Theme Park about 10 years ago. I truly am a Baby Spice at heart XD.

9. What is your cooking specialty?

I do boss ass scrambled eggs. And I’m also great at roast potatoes, I can get them crispy but not hard but soft on the inside. I roast them in a small cake tin it works AMAZINGLY.

10. What is the thing you want the most at the moment?

NOGIMYU 2019 VISUALS. And a girlfriend XD. It doesn’t look good for me that I put that second does it?

11. What is the thing you are most scared of?

I’m pretty tough ngl, but if there’s a spider in my vicinity I will kindly ask someone to dispose of it. Thanks Dad ;).

12. What is the thing you were happy about this year?

I guess NogiMyu 2019 announcement?? Finishing college?

13. What is the thing you were sad about this year?

ALL THE NOGIZAKA46 GRADUATIONS SERIOUSLY MISA KARIN AND REIKA WHAT IS GOING ON.

14. What is the thing you regretted this year?

Aforementioned anger issues that keep upsetting people I need to sort that out.

15. What is the thing you were angry about this year?

LET’S NOT GO THERE I’ll just say Tories again? XD. But that’s the same every year XD.

16. What is the job that gave you a sense of fulfilment this year?

Omg I’m technically unemployed atm cos I finished college a couple of months ago XD. So none?

17. What has changed about you since you entered com-myu-nity?

I’m a nicer person XD. In high school when I started YouTube I was HORRIBLE and I didn’t even know I was XD.

18. Which character would you play in Sera Myu?

I’d love to do Neptune but fuck knows I’d be bad at that so maybe Venus?? OO OR MAYBE MISTRESS 9.

19. If you were to form a collab now, who would it be with?

Omg it’d be so cool to do a cover of all the Make Up Kumikyoku songs with my NogiMyu friends XD.

20. What do you love about Sera Myu nowadays?

After 2017 I really like how they’re trying different things rather than sticking to conventional normal cast musicals. Like NogiMyu is so experimental and has a Nogi cast, the Super Live is a dance show, I hope Kaguya-hime no Koibito will be similar to this pattern XD.

21. Which cast member catches your attention the most at the moment?

Well it’s ALWAYS Nao, but y’all know how much I’m loving Hinachima atm.

22. Which cast member would you want as your significant other?

NAOOOOOOOOO or Hinachima XD.

23. If you were to marry a cast member, who would it be?

Obvs Nao AGAIN.

24. If you would go to a deserted island, which cast member would you like to go with you?

I might be able to survive on my own so emotional support would be great XD. So... Hinachima XD.

25. If you would be born again, which cast member would you want to be?

Yuuka Asami or Ayumi Murata.

26. Which Sera Myu production would you want to be a part of?

I would have loved to have been in any Bandai musical cos it looked SO fun T_T.

27. If you would create your own kingdom, what kind of country would you want it to be?

NOT RUN BY TORIES everyone has human rights (common sense?) and Sera Myu, 9Muses and Nogizaka46 will be easily available in all hmv shops.

28. What is an interesting book or manga you read recently?

I was reading The Price of Salt before my exams started (thanks to my English teacher recommending it to me AHA) so I need to get back into reading that.

29. What is an interesting movie you watched recently?

DESCENDANTS 3 IT WAS SO GOOD.

30. What is your favoUrite Sera Myu song at the moment?

It’s always been Everlasting Moonlight, but I also love the Make Up Kumikyoku songs. OH and Watashi-tachi Sailor Guardians.

31. What is your favoUrite Sera Myu song choreography at the moment?

I still love the 2003 Everlasting Moonlight choreo.

32. What is your favoUrite Sera Myu costume at the moment?

I really love Rei’s costume from NogiMyu when they’re at that club.

33. What is your favoUrite Myu at the moment?

NOW AND FOREVER LAST DRACUL JOKYOKU.

34. What is your favoUrite Myu cast?

I’d actually say Kaguya Shima Densetsu Kaiteiban. All my favourite outers in one <3.

35. Is there something you say a lot recently?

"Do you mind” or “can you not”... all to inanimate objects.

36. What would you do if you could plan a Fan Kansha?

OMG I’D LOVE A NOGIMYU FAN KANSHA WHERE THEY SING EACH OTHER’S KUMIKYOKU SONG. Imagine Hinachima doing Mars’ XD.

37. What do you hope to see Sera Myu doing in the future?

Just more accessible stuff XD. Super Live is an atrocity in terms of recordings and releases so... release your stuff please XD.

38. What kind of person do you want to be in 5 years?

I really wanna get into stand up and I know I need to get myself out there so in 5 years hopefully that won’t just be a dream XD. FUCK THAT WAS CHEESY.

39. What has been a memorable concert or event this year?

Of this year Mrs Brown’s Boys D’Musical, but of a year from today Nightwish in December 2018 XD.

40. What do you want to do in your private life this year?

Pass my driving test XD. Still learning theory but I am determined to do it this year XD.

41. What kind of job would you like to do in the future?

STAND UP COMEDIAN legit if I can get on just one panel show my life goal will be complete.

42. Do you have a hairstyle you would like to try in the future?

I keep meaning to dye my hair purple temporarily cos I have the dye but I just seem to never get round to it XD.

43. What Sera Myu merchandise would you love to have?

Hinachima card.

44. Where would you want Sera Myu to come to?

If I could just get a CINEMA SCREENING of a Myu in the UK I’d count it as a win.

45. If you could have a holiday with any cast member, what do you want to do?

For some reason I wanna say Ayumi Murata cos I feel like she’d be so fun to be with XD.

46. Please say something to your favourite cast member.

Omg this is gonna get cheesy but Nao I love you I miss you keep being you do what you need I just want you to be happy XD.

[ecotone99]

The Afterlife [MS]

All things considered, TJ was lucky to only wake up with a stiff back and knee that felt just slightly out of joint. Considering TJ had been hit by a semi-trailer while drunkenly trying to cross the freeway, the slight uncomfortableness of his knee popping was insignificant. What was significant however was that TJ now Taali’nar, an ancient God worshiped by cavemen representing not being eaten by cave bears. Taali’nar was also the specific God to whom Stonehenge was attributed, but no one currently alive is aware of this, nor how not a single person had been eaten by a cave bear since Stonehenge’s raising.

“Where am I?”, said TJ

TJ’s voice echoed against blank white walls, which seemed to be both very close to him when he tried to move about, but so far away as to create an echo when he spoke to tried to walk specifically towards one of them.

Taali’nar spoke walking out from behind one of those walls frantically shimming his leopard skin pelt above their hips in a last ditch attempt to be dressed, “The afterlife, welcome to Thailreen, you have no fear of being eaten by cave bears here.”

“Holy shit there’s an afterlife,” TJ crouched into a ball and started rocking back and forth awaiting some punishment from Taali’nar.

Taali’nar pulled a giant sloth pelt from thin air and wrapped it around TJ, patting him on the back all the while comforting, “there there, no cave bears will harm you here, you are now under my aegis my child.”

TJ squeaked out, “This must be Hell, I was an atheist, what are you going to do to me.”

Taali’nar replied, “This is not Hell. Since you were an atheist, the Homeowner’s commission for property in eternity held a lottery to see which afterlife you would live in, and my domain of Thailreen is where you have been sorted, lucky you.”

TJ sat up straight and sat cross-legged in his sloth pelt, still slightly teary-eyed but now more perplexed than anything. TJ sniffled slightly when he responded, “I’ve never heard of Thailreen, is it like… Hindu?”

“Better.” Said Taali’nar. “Thailreen is the land of people who haven’t been eaten by cave bears, celebrated by brave mammoth hunters, berry pickers, druids, and shamen throughout most of history.”

Taali’nar helped TJ up and lead him towards the white walls of Thailreen, which grew closer to TJ with Taali’nar to guide him. Behind the walls was yet more white space, but sitting cross legged in front of a fire in the middle of the infinite expanse of white nothingness was a group of eight early-humans roasting an inordinately sized newt.

Taali’nar introduced the group to TJ from left to right, “This is Urg, she was killed by exposure, and over there is Wraug he tried to swallow a peach pit, which obviously didn’t work out. Shug died in childbirth, Goorg was mauled to death by a cave bear but not eaten afterwards due to his incredibly off putting body odor and Birg…”

“You mean I ended up in caveman heaven!” interrupted TJ

“Better,” said Taali’nar “All cave bear go to heaven, you don’t have to worry about that here. Much safer if you ask me.”

TJ grew visibly angry and shouted, “Shut up about the stupid cave bear, they’ve been extinct since like forever. I was never going to get killed by one anyway.”

“You’re welcome,” Interjected Taali’nar.

“You know I spend my entire life trying to come to terms with this inky black nothingness that kinda sets me and everyone else to being kind of equal. You know, a place where Jeff Bezos, my bitch ex-wife, and I can all be equally non-existent and now I have to refocus my entire mode of existence around not being killed by an extinct animal for all eternity because I lost a stupid arbitrary lottery, if I weren’t dead I’d kill myself.”

TJ, in a huff sat down by the fire with the other eight cavemen. Taali’nar, not being a God of wisdom or even omniscience awkwardly shuffled back behind the white wall, so as to not make TJ’s acclimation to people of Thailreen less awkward. TJ tried to eat some of the newt the rest of the cavemen were roasting but found it was being cooked more out of boredom then out of a need to eat.

TJ started tending the newt. At first only passively, just something he did with his hands. Gradually he started staring at the turning newt, skewered on a spit spinning at as constant and slow a rate as TJ could manage to get a glowing golden crispy grown skin on the reptile. He started to drift off into thought about the nature of his situation, and so he turned to the cavemen and asked.

“How many of you were sorted here because of the lottery?”

Only one hand rose up, but TJ was astonished to see the other seven stay down. This all meant that everyone at the fire genuinely worshiped Taali’nar, who seemed to have neither deific attitude, power, or pants. So TJ asked Gorg the burning question,

“Why did you worship this jackass?”

“Had sixteen family. Mother. Brother. Uncle. Grandma. All eat by cave bear. Want place where cave bear no eat us. Close eyes real hard. Picture this place. Good food, never run out. No cave bear.” Gorg said.

TJ replied, “How’d you convince these guys to worship this guy though?”

Gorg scratched his head, dragging his knuckles across the white floor when he brought his arm back down to rest. With that small bit of thinking time, Gorg said, “Cave bear big problem. Want world with no problem. Thailreen no have cave bear. Thailreen have no problem.”

TJ was consternated again when he said, “But this place sucks. It’s boring. You can’t even eat the newt you spend eternity cooking. There’s nothing to look at. What were you all thinking?”

Gorg swung his head about like a stiff rod attached to a spherical pivot on his neck to survey the afterlife he and his contemporaries had dreamed of. “Seem good to me. What problem? You think place be different?”

TJ shouted, “Nothing! I thought there was no God. Everything would go black, my brain would stop working. Oblivion!”

Gorg bluntly said, “So you say nothing better to be here?”

“Yes!” said TJ.

Gorg perplexed said, “Huh, everything must be problem. You sure no more cave bear?”

TJ sat by the fire. He was frustrated. His new fellows in the afterlife were ignorant, the God who ruled over the domain was unrelatable, the only thing he was capable of doing was completely pointless. But sitting by the fire, the smell of newt wafting through the air and the blocky yet cheerful grunting of the cavemen about him made him feel a little at ease with his unagreeable situation. Then Taali’nar came back.

“Hey TJ! Turns out that oblivion you wanted, that’s actually a place you can go to. Zeus, Satan, and Vishnu said the council agreed any atheist unsatisfied with their afterlife can opt to be obliterated instead, so whenever you’re ready just say the word! I heard there are no cave bears to eat you in oblivion, although there is also no ‘you’ to eat”

TJ looked at his feet for a bit before yelling behind his shoulder,

“I’m good for now. Ask me again later.”

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