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exit-goat · 4 years

Text

Between Friends

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

Chapter 1: Perfect Strangers (x)

Chapter 2: Penny for your Thoughts

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes, can I help you?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I hear congratulations are in order."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He paused, taking another sip from his drink.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fiona sighed to herself, stealing a glance at Charlie.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You're right…," Charlie sighed.

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

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

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

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

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

"Just between us."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fiona nodded.

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

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

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

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

"Were you married?"

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

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

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

Fiona nodded her head.

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

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

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

"How long were you married?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fiona nodded along, listening attentively.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I won't promise."

"I'll hold you to that."

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

"Good night, Barber."

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

"Good night, Fiona." Charlie smiled.

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

*********

taglist: @hardlyinteresting @gurl-ly

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noocturnalchild · 4 years

Text

This is not a Masterlist

Since masterlists are a thing, I’ll start one here !

I’m not a prolific writer, but I’ll try to keep all my writing accessible for you guys and update here !

Adam Sackler

Roommates to lovers AU one shots :

* Brooklyn, 3am

* I’ve always known

*Come to Bed

*Milk and Sweat

Clyde Logan

* A Perfectly Normal Weekend

Francisco Garupe

* Good Morning, Father

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

* Sealed In Marble

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 , Chapter 7 , Chapter 8 , chapter 9

* Lay Down in the Tall Grass

Adam ( Not Waving But Drowning)

* Recessed Lights

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2

Flip Zimmerman

* Blind

Paterson

* Of Thieves and Poets

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2

Charlie Barber

* A quick Escalation

Ben Solo

* A ruined Movie Night

#fanfics #adam driver fanfiction #fan fiction list #fanfic #adam driver characters #adam driver #father garupe #garupe #adam sackler #ben solo #kylo ren #flip zimmerman #charlie barber #clyde logan #paterson #fan fic masterlist #masterlist

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driversmutbucket · 4 years

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Appetizer

My original post of this got flagged lololol

Let’s try again.

This is a concept I haven’t been able to stop thinking about since my Charlie NSFW alphabet collab with @kylosupremeimagines

Bon Apetit bitchezzzz

Charlie x Reader

Warnings: cum, tittyfucking NSFW, filth, oral

You knew what he wanted.

The way he had been distracted by the low cut of your shirt, his eyes kept drifting back as you ate.

“Stop looking at my tits.” You joked.

His mouth curled into a grin. “I can’t help it, they are right there.”

“They are always there.”

“But they look so good today.”

“New bra.” You shrugged.

“My new favorite.”

“You can fuck them after dinner.” You said casually, before taking another bite.

He paused, you raised your eyebrows at him as he put down his cutlery.

“How about right now?” It came out as more of an instruction than a question.

“I’m not done yet!” You looked down at your half eaten dinner.

“I’ll eat you out after.”

“Bribery- smooth.” You teased.

“And I’ll go and get a tub of ice cream.”

“Sold!” You grinned, banging your hand down on the table.

He chuckled, before scraping back his chair.

You went to do the same, but he stopped you.

“No, stay there.” He said as he pushed you (and the chair) back a bit further getting on his knees in front of you.

“Hello.” You giggled, raking your finger through his hair, as he began unbuttoning your shirt.

“Hi.” He replied, a little smile pulling at his lips as you shrugged off your now, unbuttoned, shirt.

He traced the edges of the bra gently, over the swell of your breasts.

Reaching behind you he unclipped the clasp with ease and pulled the bra off your arms.

You watched, with amusement, as he drank in the sight of your bare chest. You kind of loved how shameless he was in his love for tits.

He took one in each warm hand and squeezed.

Starting at your neck, he kissed his way down to the valley between your breasts. You ran a hand through his hair as he did so, enjoying the soft warmth of his mouth on your skin.

You hummed happily when he took a nipple in his mouth and sucked enthusiastically. He alternated between them like a man starved until they were wet and very sensitive.

“Oh god, ok, ok, time to switch!” You gasped, pushing his head away from your chest.

He stood up with a satisfied smile, trousers tented.

Charlie took the offending garments off, so he was naked from the waist down, cock at attention.

You got down onto your knees and quickly took him in your mouth before he could sit down.

“Fuck!” He grunted, letting you devour him for a few seconds before pulling away and sitting in the chair.

“Lube!” You said, getting to your feet and half jogging to the bedroom to find the little bottle.

He hadn’t moved when you returned and handed him the bottle, getting back on your knees.

He tricked a little between your breasts, then a little on his cock before scooting to the edge of the chair.

You spread the lube on his cock with a few pumps. You positioned yourself so his thighs were clamping your waist, he watched as you slotted his hard, hot cock between your breasts and squished them so they enveloped it.

“Jesus,” he breathed, “so fucking hot.”

Craning your neck, you kitten licked his tip, he bucked his hips with a hiss.

He angled his hips so it was easier, and you got into a steady rhythm, sliding your tits up and down his cock, sucking as much of his length as you could manage.

His eyes rolled back and he let his head droop back, probably to stop from cumming from the visuals. This was it for him, the ultimate.

“Fuck! shit! That’s it baby.” He encouraged, as you drooled everywhere, pressing your breasts together as hard as you could.

You gave your mouth and neck a break, giving Charlie the opportunity to thrust, increasing the speed in which his cock slipped through your breasts.

“Gonna cum on your tits!” he panted.

“Nnnnnfffuck.” ribbons of cum painted your chin, collarbones and tits as you continued to slide up and down his cock, milking his orgasm.

He slumped down in the chair, spent, as you grinned at him from the floor, covered in cum.

“You are trouble.” he muttered, surveying the scene in front of him.

You laughed, “Me?! You were the one ogling my tits all evening and have now made this mess!” you gestured at your chest.

“In a good way.” he clarified with a grin, pulling his trousers back up. “Go and have a shower, I will go get ice cream.” He bent down and kissed your lips, before helping you up.

“Oooooo cookie dough please! And wine actually, also wine.”

When you got to the bathroom, you turned back and called, “you also promised to eat me out!”

You heard him chuckle and the jingle of his keys, “haven’t forgotten babe!” he called back, before the front door shut behind him.

#fan fiction #filth and smut #charlie barber smut #charlie x reader #driversmutbucket

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whiskey-bumblebee · 5 years

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Hand Holding

Pairing: Charlie Barber x Reader Word Count: ~700

It’s not uncommon for you to hold hands with Henry. Crossing the road with him while you walk to Charlie’s playhouse, keeping track of him in a dense crowd while you browsed the sales at Macy’s...

Every now and again he’d reach for it, when he was nervous or wanted to keep a hold of you. Of course, you’d asked Charlie if it was fine with him, and you were cautious about who saw you doing it, and making sure Henry was comfortable.

Henry held Charlie’s hand too, even if he had to bend down a little to accommodate it when he was younger, shorter. But one thing you hadn’t yet done was hold hands with Charlie in front of Henry. Something about it seemed a little too on the nose, a little too risky.

You’d become bolder over time, sure. But bold for you two meant brushing the backs of your hands against each others, a kiss on the cheek disguised as a whisper, Charlie’s hand lingering on the small of your back after a photo was taken.

Still oh-so-careful, even now that the divorce suit had ended, even now that most of your close friends knew, some of Charlie’s colleagues.

Charlie would never let anyone hurt you over the fact that the two of you had met while him and Nicole were technically still together. Didn’t want to risk names being slung at you from across the country, or Henry’s perception of you being colored by what others might say.

He told you, one night, long after Henry had gone to bed, that he thought it would be okay if you held hands. Henry would understand.

“I think he knows it’s more than friendship,” Charlie said your name softly. “And besides, I want you to move in. Maybe if we hold hands, or kiss or something, we can be closer to that.”

You scrubbed the pot a little harder, pressed your lips together.

“It’s only been a couple months, I don’t wanna rush him.”

A few days later, you were walking back from the library, and as fate would have it, Henry just asked, like it was nothing.

“How come you guys never hold hands?”

It took a lot not to balk, unsure how to reply.

You looked at Charlie and shrugged, left the ball in his court.

“I guess I’m not scared she’ll get lost. She’s a bit taller than you, kiddo.”

“Sadie and Ryan at school hold hands even when they aren’t gonna lose each other. Sadie says they’re boyfriend and girlfriend.”

Charlie paled and looked over at you for help.

“Do you think we’re boyfriend and girlfriend, Henry?”

“Well, you spend a lot of time together. I think you like my dad and I think he likes you.”

You pretended to consider it, tilted your head to the side and touched your chin.

“Charlie, do you think we’re dating?”

“We might be. I gotta ask someone important first though.”

Charlie moved to the side of the path, gestured for Henry to follow him. You pretended to admire the flowers outside the bodega, even though they were a couple of days old.

“Would you mind if we were boyfriend and girlfriend?”

Henry nodded. “Just don’t be gross about it.”

You smiled at the kid logic, how clear and definitive it was.

“So I can hold her hand?”

“I don’t know dad, you’d have to ask her first. That’s what you tell me to do when I wanna touch someone.”

Henry started walking again, pulled his little cart along behind him. You and Charlie followed behind, and you smiled at him encouragingly.

“He’s got a point, I gotta ask you first.”

“Go ahead.”

You were blushing a little bit, felt like a teenager again.

“Could I hold your hand?”

You nodded, entwined your fingers with his. He leaned down to whisper in your ear, finished his sentence with a chaste kiss to your neck while Henry’s back was turned. He was smiling when he pulled away, felt a little bit freer than he did a few minutes ago.

“I really don’t wanna lose you.”

#charlie x reader #charlie barber #charlie barber x reader #charlie/reader #charlie barber/reader #reader insert #self insert #fanfic #fanfiction #fan fiction #marriage story #noah baumbach #adam driver #my writing

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365days365movies · 3 years

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April 4, 2021: The Great Dictator (1940) (Part One)

So, Charlie’s been having an...interesting few years.

His marriage to Lita Grey has resulted in children, and a BITTER-AS-FUCK divorce, with Grey alleging that Chaplin had subjected her to “sexual perversions”. Other than the whole “she was 16, he was 35″ thing, which is...bad, obviously, Chalin was also a fan of orgies, fondling, and...pies. Yeah. Pies. Warning here, the next paragraph is...uncomfortable.

Dude would allegedly audition actresses having then sit on a couch, strip naked for him, and then he’d grope them on said couch. Then, he’d have them stand up against the wall, and he’d...well, he’d throw pies at them. Yeah. Um. He, uh...yeah.

I know, Matt Mercer, I know. And Hollywood agreed, because they didn’t really see to care? This info, amongst other stuff that I can’t seem to find out more about, was enough for grounds of divorce against Chaplin, and Lita Grey was gone from his life, taking the kids and a lot of money with her.

Film fame continued for Chaplin, though, and his 1927 film The Circus was a huge hit. But now, the “talkie” had been invented, and Chaplin HATED it. He believed that it was an unartistic addition to the medium, eliminating the need for his pantomiming. And, uh...he was technically right about that last point. He chose not to give the Tramp a voice, and made the film City Lights, which came out in 1931, and is considered one of his greatest films.

But the writing was VERY MUCH on the wall at this point, and silent films were a thing of the past. Still, City Lights did really well, and was Chaplin’s favorite of his films. Then, in 1932, he met Pauline Goddard (who was 21), and she would eventually become his third wife. He made his next major (still silent) film, Modern Times, in 1936, and it didn’t do quite as well. That’s because Chaplin had started to become more politically conscious, and used the film to make commentary on the industrialization of the USA, which he disliked. And that, interestingly enough, was a sign of the end for Chaplin.

Still, the film was good, as was still popular then and now. But in the years to follow, something else would rear its head and plague Chaplin...something with the same mustache.

Hooooooo boy. Yeah, Hitler was rising to power in the 1930s, and Chaplin fuckin’ HAAAAAAAATED HIM. At the time, remember, Hitler’s fascist policies definitely weren’t universally derided, and he didn’t show his true monstrous colors in the early 1930s. But, Chapin still understandably disagreed with his politics and character, which was interesting for a few reasons. The two were bourn FOUR DAYS APART FROM EACH OTHER, had similar rags-to-riches origins, and both used that same toothbrush mustache. But Hitler was a feverish militaristic nationalist dictator, and Chaplin was...not that.

However, this would inspire Chaplin’s next ambitious film, considered to be one of his greatest films ever, and his first ever talkie film. And one that would age interestingly, considering what would come afterwards. In 1939, Chaplin began making this film, the United Kingdom declared war of Germany, and Europe became embroiled in the Second World War. And then, in 1940, Chaplin’s controversial (at the time) film, The Great Dictator was released. And...oh BOY, this will be Chaplin’s high and low point, lemme tell you.

But enough history (for now)! Let’s jump into this movie; I’m very excited! SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap (1/2)

WAR!!! A world war has ended, and another is about to begun! The small (fictional) country of Tomainia is preparing for war by testing their gigantic anti-aircraft gun, Big Bertha. Helping with these efforts is a Jewish Barber (Charlie Chaplin), and YES. THAT IS HOW HE’S CREDITED. After some comedic hijinks with the gun, and with one of the large shells, enemy aircraft is sighted ahead.

The Barber gets aboard another anti-aircraft gun (which he has no control over), but soon falls off of it. He’s directed into the trenches with the others, and is given a grenade, which he has no idea to use, and Chaplin shows that his physical comedy is as funny WITH sound as it was without.

On the battlefield, the Barber encounters and rescues a downed pilot, Commander Schultz, and helps him back t his plane as the enemy approaches. They get on the plane together, only for the pilot to repeatedly faint in mid-air. In the process, they begin to fly upside down for a period, and once again, Chaplin shows that he’s just as funny speaking as he was silent.

Despite their attempts, the pair crash as the plane runs out of fuel, but both men survive. The country has lost the war at this point, and the Barber is now unconscious and brought to a hospital. 20 years pass, and he’s finally able to leave, unaware of how his country of Tomainia has changed in the process. Now, they are ruled by a ruthless dictator, Adenoid Hynkel (Charlie Chaplin).

And i case you were wondering what the phrase “on the nose” actually meant...GODDAMN, this is an on-the-nose parody of Hitler. I mean, it’s very funny, of course, but HOT DAMN is it not even a little bit subtle. Also, living in a post-Trump world...Jesus, this is eerie. Anyway, the other reason this film is great is the fake German. And yeah, honestly, this is a very funny scene, even with the dark undertone, and the knowledge of what would be to come in World War II under Hitler’s regime.

youtube

Alongside his primary aides, Minister of War Herring (Billy Gilbert) and Secretary of the Interior (and Minister of Propaganda) Garbitsch (Henry Daniell), he makes a speech that’s clearly a parody of Hitler’s speeches. He also namedrops the Jewish population in the speech, which immediately makes them a target by his stormtroopers. This is noted by Mr. Jaeckel (Marice Mossovich), an elderly Jewish man who lives in the ghettos of Tomainia.

Mr. Jaeckel bemoans the fate of the country under Hynkel’s rule, and also notes the fate of those like his tenant, a young woman named Hannah (Paulette Goddard) who lost her parents since the last war. He also mentions the Barber, who writes every few weeks to say that he’ll be back soon. Just then, the Barber actually DOES wake up, completely unaware of what’s occurred in the last few years.

He heads to his barber shop, which has been boarded up, with the word “Jew” painted on the boards. Did I mention that this is a very on-the-nose satire? Anyway, he attempts to reopen his shop, only to be savaged by stormtroopers following Hynkel’s orders to control the ghetto. He fights back against two of them, and is saved by Hannah, who had attempted to stand up to them earlier with little success. They bond over this, and become friends.

But Hynkel’s savaged even more by a crowd of stormtroopers next, and they grab him with the intent to hang him from a lamppost, only for him to be saved by Commander Schultz, the pilot from the plane! He guarantees that he will never be attacked again, and that courtesy extends to his friends. He barber reopens his shop, and begins to fall in love with Hannah in the process.

Back to Hynkel. He’s enduring Herring’s introductions of military technology, including a bulletproof uniform and a parachute hat. Neither work, to hilarious effect. He then speaks to Garbitsch about the financial state of affairs in the country, which aren’t great. Gabitsch sugggests speaking with a banker, Epstein, to finance the money.

Garbitsch, by the way, is a massive Grima Wormtongue figure, and basically just fuels his megaloaniacal fervor, convincing him to extend his desires to the world at large, not just limit them to their small country of Tomainia. Soon, well...soon, the world will be in the hands of Emperor Hynkel; an Aryan world in the hands of a brunette dictator. And that starts YET ANOTHER of the most iconic scenes of the film. But only one of the most iconic.

It’s darkly beautiful, in and out of context. And eventually, the inflatable globe pops, which makes this even more poignant. Meanwhile, in the ghetto, the Barber is doing his best Bugs Bunny impression and cutting hair to a classical music piece (Brahms’ Hungarian Dance No. 5). Bugs did the whole Barber of Seville routine WAY after this in Rabbit of Seville in 1950. One of the best Bugs Bunny shorts ever.

Back in the palace, bad news arrives. Epstein, the banker, has refused to give Hynkel any money, as he’s Jewish, and is protesting against the persecution of his people in the ghetto. Hynkel immediately decides to double down on his attacks on the ghettos, which he calls on Schultz to perform. But he refuses, noting that the persecution of an innocent people will only serve to demoralize the entire country. Hynkel sends Schultz to a concentration camp as a result, and proceeds on his path.

In the ghetto, people have been doing OK, as the stormtroopers had been lightening up their attacks on the ghetto, to attempt to please Epstein to get more money. But no more of that. As Hannah and the Barber are about to go on a date, loudspeakers broadcast an angry speech from Hynkel, in fake German. And while it’s never translated...the reactions from the populus, Hannah, and the Barber, aren’t difficult to read. Hynkel just waged war on the ghetto and the Jews.

Well, will you look at that; a halfway point! Let’s stop here, then head into a Part Two. See you there!

#the great dictator #charlie chaplin #paulette goddard #jack oakie #henry daniell #reginald gardiner #billy gilbert #maurice mossovich #comedy april #user365 #365 movie challenge #365 movies 365 days #365 Days 365 Movies #365 movies a year #365days365movies

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jalebi-weds-bluetooth · 4 years

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5 of Celebrity Crushes Actors/Characters I Immensely & Intensely Admire

Tagged by the wonderful sweet as sandesh @shaonharryandpannisim; which was to to tag 5 of your celebrity crushes

I have a thing against having crushes on real people / characters (in a relationship). But, of course, there’s no dearth of admiration for them! I have included two fictional characters (sorry!)

Fitzwilliam Darcy

His arch is one of my favorites in literary history. His growth to warmth, happiness touches my heart every single time. One of the best creations from the genius mind of Jane Austen. My forever favorite. I do not have words to express my love for him. I feel many need to revisit Pride & Prejudice to see how beautifully he is crafted.

Photo credit: Graphic made by Mint Afternoon from ScoutMob

Randeep Hooda

An underrated actor who has the capability of bringing emotion in the weakest of stories and uplifts any storyline with his talent. There’s a way he performs that’s absolutely exemplary to watch! From Highway to Sarabjit, I can only hope he appears in more films!

Photo credit: Vogue India

Pradosh Mitter / Feluda

My first love! It was with The Adventures of Feluda that I begun my reading journey. Talk about wit, charm, intelligence and responsibility rolled into one character. A detective who stole the hearts of everyone across India and beyond. In a world of James Bond and Sherlock Holmes, here stands a character who was essentially built for kids but became a fan favorite for all. Till date I have not been able to put a face to him for he exists best in words. (Although I do like the movie adaptations).

Photo credit: Art by BOTAGAINSTHUMANITY

Adam Driver

Oh... I don’t have words. I truly don’t. Whenever he acts, I don’t read the subtitles as I’m unable to tear my eyes away from his face. I haven’t seen an actor like him in my life. Every square inch of his face acts. From the quiver of his lips to the slight twitch in his eyes - I am always absorbed in the characters he performs; Kylo Ren/Ben Solo, Clyde Logan, Charlie Barber, Paterson, etc. This man is going to be one of the biggest stars we will see. A man beyond Oscar.

Photo credit: British GQ

Barun Sobti

I was just speaking about him to my best friend/sister! Indian Television swarms with drama, over reactions and noise. And then, suddenly, in between, appears an actor who does the opposite. His subtlety, nuance, dialogue delivery, and letting his eyes do the talking makes him one of my favorite actors. Talk about an evocative actor! And his versatility is impressive. You would never think that Arnav Singh Raizada from IPKKND and Arjun from Tu Hai Mera Sunday are the same people.

Photo credit: No idea! (If you know who took the original let me know).

And it might be that all of the above 5 are immensely attractive and can cause millions to have their hearts stopped with the power of a glance and may not be the “conventional” Prince Charming.

I’m tagging @m0hinii, @shiyaravi & @zaphbeeblebrox (absolutely not obligated and because I’m terrible at tagging so you’re all falling victim to this!)

#random #tag game #darcy #adam driver #barunsobti #randeep hooda #feluda #amazing people #amazing actors #amazing characters

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impressivepress · 4 years

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What Charlie Chaplin Got Right About Satirizing Hitler

The Great Dictator—Charlie Chaplin’s masterful satire of Adolf Hitler—began filming in September 1939, right at the start of World War II. By the time it was released in 1940, the Axis had been formed, and Nazis were already occupying much of France.

The threat was not at all abstract: critic Michael Wood notes that the movie premiered that December, in London, amid German air raids. The following December, of 1941, would yield its own devastating threats from the air—this time on American soil, which would clarify for Americans the realness of this war by bringing it home.

It was, in other words, a strange moment to be making a comedy about Adolf Hitler—even a satire holding him to account, and even one in which Chaplin himself, who was at that point one of the most famous movie stars in the world, famous for playing the ambling, lovable Little Tramp, took on the role of Hitler. In 1940, Germany and the US had yet to become enemies; feathers, it was worried, would be ruffled by a movie like this. But Chaplin was already unwittingly bound up in the era’s iconographies of evil. His likeness, the Little Tramp, with that curt mustache and oddly compact face of his, had already become a visual reference for cartoonists lampooning Hitler in the press. And he was already on the Nazis’ radar: the 1934 Nazi volume The Jews Are Looking At You referred to him as "a disgusting Jewish acrobat." Chaplin wasn’t Jewish. But he was frequently rumored to be. And when he visited Berlin in 1931, he was mobbed by German fans, proving that his popularity could surpass even the growing ideological boundaries of a nascent Nazi Germany—hence their hatred.

Chaplin was aware of all of this—and of the fact that he and Hitler were born only four days apart, in April of 1889, that they had both risen out of poverty, and that they had enough points of biographical comparison, overall, to spook any sane person. Let’s not overstate their similarities: One of these men would go on to make the world laugh, and the other would go on to start a world war and facilitate the Holocaust. Humorously, that split would come to be echoed in The Great Dictator. Chaplin does double duty, playing the movie's two central roles. One, the character of Adenoid Hynkel, is a Hitler spoof by way of a short-tempered and preposterously powerful personality, a dictator of the fictional country Tomainia. And in the opposing corner, Chaplin offers us a variation on his classic Little Tramp, a Jewish barber who saves a high-ranking officer’s life in World War I and, after a plane accident and years of recovery in the hospital, wakes up to the seeds of World War II being sewn in his country.

The Great Dictator is a classic for a reason. It's startling in its depictions of violence, which stand out less for their outright brutality than for how memorably they depict the Nazis’ betrayal of everyday humanity. And it's renowned as well as for its resourceful and original humor, which combines Chaplin at his most incisive and balletic with raucous displays of verbal wit. This was Chaplin’s first sound film; his previous feature, the 1936 masterpiece Modern Times, was by the time of its release considered almost anachronistic for being a silent film in a sound era. Dictator avails itself of this technological progress, making perhaps its most successful bit out of the way Hitler speaks, the melange of rough sounds and brutish insinuations that have long made footage from his rallies as fascinating as they are frightening.

The Great Dictator understands Hitler as a performer, as an orator wielding language like the unifying, galvanizing power that it is. But it also understands him as a psyche. This of course means it’s full of what feel like sophomoric jokes, gags in which Hitler’s insecurities, his thirst for influence, his ideological inconsistencies (an Aryan revolution led by a brunette?) and zealous dependency on loyalty come under fire. It isn’t a psychological portrait, but nor is it so simple as a funhouse treatment of the coming war, all punchline and distortion.

It’s all a bit richer than that, which might be why The Great Dictator is on my mind this week, as we greet the release of Taiki Waititi’sJojo Rabbit, a movie in which Waititi himself plays Adolf Hitler, not quite in the flesh, but rather as imagined by a little Nazi boy who’s fashioned him into an imaginary friend. I’m not crazy about Waititi’s movie, which is less a satire than a vehicle for unchallenged moral goodness in the face of only barely-confronted evil. But it does, like Chaplin’s film, nosedive into the same problems of representation and comedy that have plagued movies since early in Hitler’s reign. Should we satirize genocidal maniacs? Can we laugh at that? And if so, can the line we usually toe between comedic pleasure and moral outrage—a mix that comes easily to comedy, in the best of cases—withstand something so inconceivable a mass atrocity?

That Chaplin’s movie succeeds where Waititi’s fails is a fair enough point, but comparing most comedians’ work to Chaplin’s more often than not results in an unfair fight. What matters are the things we can all still learn from Chaplin’s work, down to the fact that it so completely and unabashedly honors and toys with the public’s sense of who he is. This wouldn’t be nearly as interesting a movie if the Jewish barber hadn’t so readily recalled the Little Tramp. But because of this familiarity, The Great Dictator feels much the way movies like Modern Times did: like a story about the travails of an every-man who’s suddenly, with no preparation, launched headlong into machinery too great, too complex, too utterly beyond him, for it not to result in comic hi-jinks.

That’s the how barber’s first scenes out of the hospital, as beautifully staged and timed by Chaplin, feel: like watching the Little Tramp turn a corner and walk, completely unaware, into a world war. He sees "Jew" written on his barbershop, for example, but because he’s an amnesiac just released from the hospital, he has no idea why it’s there, and starts to wash it away. This is illegal, of course, and when the Nazis try to tell them so, he, thinking they’re run-of-the-mill brutish anti-Semites, douses them with paint and runs away. Much of the humor, at least in the clearly-marked "Ghetto," where the Barber lives, plays out this way: a terrifying game of comic irony in which what the Barber doesn’t know both empowers and threatens to kill him.

The Hitler scenes, by contrast, are a ballet—at times almost literally—of alliances and petty tasks. The highlight must of course be a scene of Hitler alone, having just renewed his faith in his plan to take over the world, dancing with an inflated globe of the planet, bouncing it off his bum, posing like a pin-up on his desk as the globe floats airlessly skyward. You can’t help but laugh. But that laughter doesn’t mute the brooding danger of it. You see the globe, the ease with which he lifts it up, manipulates it, makes a game of it, and realize that this is precisely what a dictator wants. It's a guileless and child-like vision, from his perspective, of his own power.

The Great Dictator’s famous climax finds these two men merging, somewhat, into one. It’s a rousing speech ostensibly delivered by the Jewish barber, who (for reasons best left to the movie to explain) has been confused for Hynkel by the Nazis and is called upon to speak to the masses. And then he opens his mouth—and the man that emerges is Chaplin himself, creeping beyond the boundaries of character, satire, or even the artificial construct of a "movie," as such.

The speech makes a case for humanity in the face of grave evil. "We think too much and feel too little," Chaplin says. "More than machinery we need humanity. More than cleverness we need kindness and gentleness." You’ll recognize this theme—"more than machinery we need humanity"—throughout Chaplin’s work, and it rings especially true here. Chaplin emerges, fully human, as himself, breaking free of the film’s satirical trappings, to deliver one from the heart.

It’s a scene that plays well on its own, as a standalone speech. For a long while, it was hard to find a version online that hadn’t been modified with dramatic "movie speech" music by way of Hans Zimmer. Youtube comments imply a recent upswing in activity, of people finding the speech anew in the Trump era, and that makes sense. But the scene plays even more strangely, more powerfully, in context, where it’s less easily lent to meme-able political messaging, where it has to brush up against everything else in the movie that’s come before.

It’s startling, frankly. The Great Dictator’s tone to this point never feels so earnest. How could it, what with its balletic Hitler and its foreign dictatorships with names like Bacteria. From the vantage of 1940, Chaplin couldn’t quite see where the war would take us, and it remains the case that some of the film plays oddly—but all the more insightfully for it—today. What’s clear from its final moments, to say nothing of much of the rest, is the power in this tension. Insofar as it can sense but not see the future, you could say that The Great Dictator is a film made in a cloud of relative ignorance. Yet look at how much it says, how far it goes. It makes it hard to make excuses for films made since, which often have the benefit of hindsight yet little of substance to say about what they see in the rear view. We know more, much more, about Hitler today than we did in 1940. Why should we let anyone get away with saying less?

K. Austin Collins · October 18, 2019.

#film #Charlie Chaplin #adolf hitler #the great dictator #vanity fair

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driverwaltz · 4 years

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Hi, I’m Ara

This is just a quick lil’ intro post☺️

Who am I?

I’m a journalism major with an interest in fiction writing. I love music and I’m an absolute sucker for indie rock/pop. My favorite artists include The Strokes, Arctic Monkeys, Lana Del Rey, Banks, and Billie Eilish. I’m also a hopeless romantic so you bet I’ll be making some real sappy and cheesy content.

What is this blog?

Reading fan fiction has always been one of my hobbies, so I wanted to try my hand in writing some. The title of this blog was actually based on one of my favorite Arctic Monkeys song, “piledriver waltz,” and I just altered it cuz this blog is mainly going to be focused on Adam Driver.

Who will I write for?

Like I said, I’m mainly going to write for Adam Driver’s characters but there’s a couple of other characters I’m interested in writing for and I’m open to requests.

Adam’s characters...

Adam Sackler (Girls)

Flip Zimmerman (Blackkklansmen)

Pale (Burn This)

Jude (Hungry Hearts)

Kylo Ren (Star Wars)

Charlie Barber (Marriage Story)

Ronnie (The Dead Don’t Die)

Ricky (Tracks)

Other characters...

John Wick

Tommy Shelby (Peaky Blinders)

I’ll be writing multi-chapter fics, one shots, headcanons, ships, and I’m thinking of doing a day dedicated to smut requests and another one dedicated to fluff requests.

#adam driver #flip zimmerman #kylo ren #burn this #pale #jude #charlie barber #marriage story #ronnie #the dead dont die #adam sackler #girls #john wick #tommy shelby #peaky blinders #star wars #fanfic

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direnightshade · 4 years

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Runaway Train / Chpt. 1

My little one shot ‘Angel of the Morning’ inspired me to write this fic. I’ve got plans to make it multi-chapter (with currently no set limit in mind as to how many chapters it will be). You can also find this fic over on AO3.

He meets you on the subway, his tall, muscular frame crowding the door after having just given up his seat for the frail elderly woman who’d just gotten on the car at the last minute. It makes you smile, amusement shining in the look that you give him, to see a man of his stature move so quickly. He sees you then, and he smiles back, an air of playfulness to the expression as his hand grips the nearby metal pole for stability. Your gaze lowers to the book in your hands, the novel still open to where you’d last left off. It takes a moment to find the ending of the paragraph you’d finished, but eventually, you find your place again. The smile’s still there, still faintly hanging on as the corners of your lips curl ever so slightly. When you venture another look, risking a glance in his direction again, you find that he’s still staring. Still smiling.

And your smile grows just that much more.

— — — — —

You note that he gets off one stop before you, and you can’t help but wonder just where it is he’s going. You allow your mind to wander, thinking up various scenarios for all the things he could be doing. Is this the stop that he gets off in order to go home, and if so, is the home empty or does he return to a family? If not home, then where? You imagine some large boardroom, floor to ceiling windows overlooking the city, where he’s holding a meeting — but perhaps that scenario’s been crafted thanks to one too many romance novels you’d been reading as of late, much like the one you’d been reading on the train.

— — — — —

In a city of roughly eight and a half million people, you don’t ever expect to see him again. But that doesn’t stop you from looking. You seek him out each time you board the train, eyes scanning the sea of faces for the one that would stand out. You’ve only seen him the once, thus far, but you’ve already committed him to memory; his angular features smattered with moles and the lightest dusting of freckles, hair in desperate need of a cut, and yet something in that gut of yours tells you that it’s that length for a reason — you just haven’t been around him long enough to figure out why.

You go on like this for days, thinking of him, of those dark eyes and pouty lips that just begged you to kiss them. But days turn into weeks, and soon enough, all thoughts of him have begun to wane from your mind, replaced by more mundane every day things.

It’s late when you leave the office, night having already blanketed the city by the time you arrive to the subway station. Standing on the platform, feet positioned just at the edge of the yellow cautionary line, you notice movement out of your peripheral. Your head turns to the right to glance over, nearly doing a double take when you spot the source. There, just feet away, stands the man you’d seen on the train weeks ago. His head lifts, and his eyes widen with the look of realization when his gaze lands on you, and it has you wondering if your expression is mirroring his. The surprised expression he donned a moment ago melts away into an earnest smile, one that you’re happy to return.

When the train pulls up into the station, you step aside to allow any commuters off before entering the nearly empty car, taking a seat towards the center of the narrow cabin. Your gaze shifts to watch his towering form enter from one of the other entry points, his steps taking him to the seat directly across from you. He smiles again, and this time you finally notice the dimples that crease his cheeks.

“No book today,” he asks, and for a moment, you say nothing.

Book? What book? And then it hits you, that familiar feeling of realization. He’d remembered that you were in the midst of reading one of your many novels on the train the last time you’d seen each other. The thought makes you smile, your head shaking from side to side in silent response.

“Oh, it’s here,” you reply, your hand moving to pat the purse that’s seated beside you. The book is small enough to be tucked away in one of the purse’s large compartments.

He hums in response, his head nodding slowly, and it’s then that you drop a glance down to the hands that rest atop his thighs. No wedding ring, you think to yourself, pleased at the discovery — or lack thereof.

The two of you fall into a comfortable conversation, topics ranging from every day things like careers — you’ve discovered that he’s a successful theater direct who’s currently on the hunt for his next big play, and he seems very interested in your own line of work — to hobbies. Charlie — as you’ve come to find out is his name — doesn’t have much time to dedicate to many hobbies thanks to his line of work, however, he does enlighten you with the fact that he enjoys a good karaoke every now and again.

Before long, the train pulls into yet another station, and you recognize that this is the same station that Charlie had gotten off the last time you’d run into each other. “This is me,” he says, grasping onto one of the nearby metal poles to pull himself up onto his feet. “Thanks for keeping me company on what would otherwise be a very boring ride.” There’s amusement in his voice, and you’re sure that the smile you give him is radiating with the same emotion.

You’re not sure where the sudden boldness comes from, but as he moves towards the doors, waiting for them to open, you stand up also. “Would you maybe want to exchange numbers,” you ask, a hint of hopefulness in your voice. He turns to you, and you shrug a shoulder as if to say what’s the harm. “In case you ever want to talk somewhere other than on the subway.”

That makes him smile, his teeth showing this time as he chuckles, and you can’t help but admire the way that he looks even more so in this moment. The way that his eyes crinkle at the corners, the dimples that make an appearance and the teeth that are slightly spaced and crooked in various places, every little detail in this moment comes together to somehow make him look younger, more carefree. You like seeing him like this, you decide. You’re hoping to see it more often.

Charlie nods and moves a hand into the pocket of his jacket, pulling out his phone and unlocking the screen before handing it over to you. Quickly, not wanting to hold him up more than you already have, you type in your name and number into his contacts before handing the phone back to him. You do the same, giving him your phone so he can enter his information, and once your phone is back in the safety of your hand, he utters his goodbye and steps out of the train.

Dropping back down into your seat with one more stop to go before you make your own departure, you study the still illuminated screen in your palm. His name is glaring up at you with large, bold text: Charlie Barber.

As you smile down at the screen, a small bubbled notification pops up at the top of the screen, alerting you to an incoming text from none other than the man who’d been on the train with you moments prior. Pressing the notification, you’re taken to your texts, your smile growing that much wider when you read it.

Coffee tomorrow?

— — — — —

Tagging my fellow Charlie lovers!

@girlywritesfanfic

If you’d like to be added to the tag list, give me a shout!

#Charlie Barber #Marriage Story #Adam Driver #Charlie Barber x Reader #Marriage Story Fan Fic #Marriage Story Fan Fiction #Fan Fiction #Fan Fic #Marriage Story Fanfiction #Charlie Barber Fan Fic #Charlie Barber Fanfic #Charlie Barber Fanfiction #Charlie Barber Fan Fiction #Writing #Runaway Train #Runaway Train Chapter 1 #direnightshade

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exit-goat · 4 years

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Hiya!

My name is CJ and I’m 20 years old. I’m from Canada and I’m fairly new to the Adam Driver fandom on tumblr. I just got an AO3 account so I’m going to be writing and sharing some fan fiction!

I haven’t written fan fiction since my one direction fan girl days 😅 *cringes internally* but I watched marriage story and the fic just came to me instantly, so I’m going to give it a go and hopefully you like it and find it interesting

I’m not sure when I’ll be posting the first chapter because I have motivation issues (I’m working on it lol) but it’s going to be called Between Friends.

It’s a Charlie Barber x Original Character fic that loosely follows the plot/ timeline of Marriage Story but from the perspective of the OC

Anyway I’ll update when I’m about to post the first chapter!

#adam driver #adriveredit #charlie barber #flip zimmerman #adamdriveredit #logan lucky #marriage story #adam driver gif #kylo ren #adam sackler #charlie barber x oc #charlie barber fic #fan fiction #ao3fic

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queenoftheclluds · 5 years

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Hey, Hi, Hello

Welcome one, welcome all!

This is a dedicated safe blog for all of my musings related to Adam Driver characters. I’ve been writing fan fiction, imagines, head cannons, for a long time now and I wanted to dedicate a space specifically for this fandom.

I am Jess! In my personal life I am a nurse, but I consider myself also a writer, singer, and artist.

Here you will find a lot of me gushing about the love of my life, Charlie Barber so... so sorry for that...

My asks are always open, as are my DMs. Please come make friends, send in ideas, anything!

#about me

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driversmutbucket · 4 years

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Just read the "knowing other people can hear" with Charlie prompt. OH. MY. LORT. So thank you for that, and for ruining my ovaries with "she'll just be hoping that I'm knocking you up..." *Pant* 🥵 That being said, I would LOVE your take on Charlie's reaction to a pregnancy. Is he nervous? Over the moon? Does the thought of reader carrying his baby get him riled up? Thank you for sharing this wealth of smut. You are a gift ❤️

Thoughts-

Ummmm I feel like we would be great friends. RIP ovaries.

Thanks for the lovely words about my pornnnn

Ohmygodddd sweet Charlie would be absolutely FIZZING.

I though I was gonna reply to this real quick, but alas a few days later- an entire fic.

Let me indulge you.

Warnings: pregnancy, pregnancy sex, oral sex, daddy kink/DDLG (I’m so fucking predictable), NSFW

Charlie never thought he would have the opportunity to be a father again. When you had met each other he was 35, Henry was starting school, he mournfully thought that chapter of his life was over.

Meeting you had been unexpected, in the best way. It started as nothing serious- both having recently come out of messy break ups, but flourished into a committed relationship over the space of a year.

After two years together it happened, by accident. It was a few weeks after Charlie’s 37th birthday. You had felt odd. After a week of persistent symptoms, that google told you could be pregnancy, you had picked up a pregnancy test, heart hammering in your ears.

You has sat in the bathroom dazed for a solid half an hour, the positive test held in your hand.

You scrolled through your contacts and called Nicole.

Charlie and his ex-wife Nicole, despite a stressful and emotional divorce, were on good terms. The first blended family Christmas you had shared, you had clicked. Which, frankly was very helpful, considering your involvement in Henry’s life. Now you talked regularly, and shared in the marvel that was Henry.

The moment she had answered you had burst into tears. They weren’t particularly sad tears, more- overwhelmed tears. She had calmed you, soothed you, her own voice wavered when she processed that Henry would have a sibling.

“Charlie is the best pregnancy and birth partner you could hope for y/n, oh my god, he is going to be so excited.” She had breathed wistfully, perhaps remembering back to her own experience.

That night, you had told Charlie to close his eyes and hold out his hand. He had done so with a questioning smile. You had placed the positive test in his hand, heart pounding, and told him to open his eyes.

He looked at it, then to you, then back at it before letting a laugh of disbelief, “Babe?!”

“I’m pregnant.” You had smiled, anxiety easing.

“Fuck!” He had shouted, grinning, throwing his hands up in the air, before engulfing you in the tightest hug.

His eyes had been filled with tears when he let you go. “Henry is going to be a big brother, I-...you-! This is amazing, i fucking love you so much.”

By this point you had your own tears running down your face, laughing at the state of you both.

—

The last 6 months had flown by. You had found out the gender at the earliest possible point. Both far too excited to wait until the birth. At 15 weeks you had gone in for a scan, breath held as the ultrasound technician inspected the baby.

Tears were threatening to spill even before the technician announced that you were expecting a boy.

Charlie had cupped your face and kissed your lips softly, his own eyes glassy. “Another boy” he had murmured, face glowing with pride.

Henry was almost beside himself with excitement. He had stayed with you over some of the summer break. Every other sentence began with, “When my baby brother....”

Even now he rang almost every night from his mom’s house, asking how the baby was.

Your body had changed rapidly over the last 6 months to accommodate the new life growing inside. Everything was fuller, curvier.

Charlie thought you looked sexier than ever. You kind of didn’t get it, but you happily took it and reaped the rewards.

Rewards being his hands all over you, all the time. His sex drive doubling, if not tripling. Then there were the words he would whisper in your ear, anywhere, anytime that never failed to fluster you.

“You look so fucking sexy, round with our baby.” He would growl, hands roaming up over your hips, grazing the underside of your full breasts before splaying over your large belly.

—

Tonight you were going out for dinner. Henry had not long returned to Nicole’s, the house now to yourself, you had devilish plans to seduction.

You had ordered pregnancy lingere online, and you had to admit, it was hot. The completely sheer baby pink bodysuit had a deep v neckline, your breasts which were large and swollen only just contained by the thin fabric. It was a thong bodysuit, showing your ample bottom in a way that had you saying silent thanks to the pregnancy weight you had gained.

You made sure to pull on your dress and stockings before Charlie could see.

The dress was a recent purchase, having finally given into maternity clothing, everything in your closet far too small to accommodate the bump.

Your OBGYN had told you at your last appointment that your little boy was 99th percentile in size. You had shot Charlie a look of horror.

“I’m not that surprised considering how tall his father is.” the doctor had smiled, “he will certainly be a big boy, I would say at this rate, 9lbs or more.”

“Oh course you would knock me up with a mini version of yourself.” You had huffed on the way home, “this kid is gonna wreck me.”

Consistent with his projected size, your bump was larger than most, people often mistaking you for further along. “Nope he is just huge.” You would sigh, giving Charlie the side eye, he would grin in return.

The dress was navy blue, and stretched, ruching nicely over your belly before ending mid calf.

“Is that new?” Charlie asked as he walked into the bedroom.

“Mmm yeah, because unfortunately wearing your clothing isn’t an option in this instance.” You shot him a sly smile.

Have exhausted your own wardrobe of options a few weeks ago you had moved to Charlie’s, which he had no complaint about. In fact it was added to the mile-long list of current turn-on’s.

“As much as love seeing that belly fill out my clothes, this is very nice.” He chuckled, coming in behind you as you stood at the full length mirror, kissing the top of your head and patting your bottom.

You dozed in the uber on the way home. Charlie had had a few wines and was having an enthusiastic conversation with the driver.

He led you through the door close to midnight, when you got to the bedroom you kicked your shoes off.

“Can you undress me?” You asked innocently.

Bless him, he was none the wiser as he reached for the hem of your dress and began peeling it off and over your head.

His eyes widened as he tossed the dress aside and took in the lingere.

“Fuck— what is this?” His voice was an octave lower, fingers tracing the neckline.

You bit your lip. “A little something for you.”

“Can you take off my stockings baby?” You asked as you turned around and bent yourself over, planting your hands on the bed.

The position gave him a view of the back of the bodysuit, the thong, beneath the stocking.

“Fuck.” he groaned, finding the waistband and rolling them off you slowly, until he was knelt down, helping you step out of them.

“Stay like that.” He murmured, running his hands up your legs, until then got to your ass, where he smacked both cheeks at the same time with splayed hands.

You let out a throaty moan.

His lips grazed the red marks that lingered, your breathing growing erratic as his mouth got closer to your sex.

“Always so wet.” He hummed. Pushing aside the thin strip of fabric.

You gasped as his tongue began to circle your entrance.

“Hhnnnghh Charrrrrrlie.” You pushed your hips back, into his face, spurring him on as he licked through your folds to your aching nub. His nose providing additional stimulation as it dragged.

His mouth, that magic mouth, had you gripping the sheets and whimpering.

He paused and stood you up from where he knelt, making adjusting your legs so they were hip width apart.

He sat on his feet and went back to work, your hips automatically began rocking against his mouth.

When you looked down you couldn’t see much, your belly obscuring what was probably an orgasm inducing view.

Your hand found his hair and gripped a handful as your moans became louder.

“Charlie— holy hell— I—” you babbled, before orgasming on his face, hips stuttering.

“Oh my god.” You breathed, stepping back and finding the edge of the bed before your legs gave out.

You gazed at him, kneeling there, hair touseled, face wet with your slick.

He stood and began stripping wordlessly, trousers bulging with evidence of his arousal.

You stood up, as he stepped towards you, and pulled him in for a hungry kiss. His hands roamed, teasing your nipples through the sheer fabric.

He broke the kiss. “As much as I love this little number, I need to take it off.” He said with a smirk.

“And then what?” You asked innocently, looking up at him through your lashes.

“You know very well what, little girl.” He rumbled, sliding into his role seemlessly.

“I don’t Daddy, you have to tell me.” You pouted.

He chuckled, as he began to peel off the lingere, your heavy breasts finally free from the constructing garment.

He made a primal rumbling sounds in his chest as his hand took your tits and kneaded them.

“Well little one, Daddy is going to undress you, and then you are going to be a good girl and sit on Daddies cock, ok?”

You nodded eagerly, “that’s my good girl” he hummed, pulling the lingere the rest of the way off so it fell to your feet, kicking it aside.

He got onto the bed and knelt, sitting on his feet, eyes fiery with desire as he looked at you.

“Look at you, so beautiful carrying Daddies baby. Come here.” He patted his thigh.

You got onto the bed and crawled over to him before shimmying back onto his thighs, your back to his chest.

He guided your hips up, teasing your entrance with the head of his cock.

“Please.” You whimpered.

“Please, what? He growled in your ear.

“Please Daddy.”

“Good girl.”

He pulled your hips down onto his cock, filling you to the hilt with a loud moan.

You cried out in pleasure, this angle had quickly become a favorite in pregnancy.

He helped you move, one hand under your bottom, the other cradling your tummy lovingly.

“Oh fuck Charlie.” You murmured, roleplay forgetten as you lost yourself in the dragging of his cock.

He moaned into your neck, you reached behind your head, gripping his hair, your back arching slightly.

“Y/n” He breathed, nibbling your ear, “you gonna cum for me babe?”

You whimpered, nodding, his hand cradling your belly moving down to seek out your needy clit.

He circled it slowly, relishing the sound of your long, low moans.“OhOh— right there.”

You arched your back, pushing down against him with your hips, driving his cock as deep inside you as you could. He responded by firmly and quickly rubbing your clit, sending you over the edge in a matter of seconds.

He came with a groan as your inner walls strangled his cock, milking every last drop of cum.

You relaxed against him, panting and grinning, his cock still snuggly inside you. He rolled you both, carefully so you were laying, spooning as he stretched his legs.

His hands rubbed your belly, soon after your son began to kick enthusiastically.

“Little tyrant.” You muttered, eyelids getting heavy.

“Him or me?” Charlie joked, hand moving in circulation motions over his little kicks.

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#fan fiction #filth and smut #charlie x reader #charlie barber #charlie barber x reader #preggo sex #request #smutbucket

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