#it really all comes back to both of them chucking invitations into fireplaces | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

amerrierworld · 3 years

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Naughty List

request: Hi! Can you write something with dom carol and sub reader?

note: A bit of the same AU as ‘Tea, Mrs. Aird?’ where you’re the babysitter, and Carol likes you. Basically this is the NSFW parallel of that fic :)

Summary: Carol invites you over for some, ahem, Christmas wrapping.

Characters: Carol Aird x fem!reader

Word Count: 3,723

Warnings: SMUT, Dom!Carol, also cheating cause this is pre-canon, pre-divorce!Carol, naughty Christmas shenanigans.... (KIND OF a mommy kink vibe?? ahskfhskjhg i’m so sorry don’t @ me ;-; )

It was just a few days before Christmas, and Carol had invited you around to help with some last-minute Christmas activities. Harge had to go to a Christmas work function, and Carol needed help to keep a certain three-year old at bay who was most excited about Santa Claus visiting.

You were about to knock on the door when raised voices came from inside,

“Your own bedroom? What the hell, Carol, what sort of nonsense-,”

“I just figured, with your schedule, and you getting so angry so quickly, some time apart might help-”

“Help what? Jesus, woman, next you’re going to tell me you want a divorce? This is bullshit. A woman’s place is in a man’s bed.”

“Oh, and that’s all a woman is good for, right?” Now Carol’s voice rose louder than Harge’s, defiantly. You wanted to tear away from the door, but couldn’t.

“Yes.”

A deafening silence.

“Don’t come back tonight.”

“..Carol-”

“No. I don’t want you in this house. How dare you say something like that? With Rindy just in the other room no less?”

“She’ll have to learn too, just like you.”

“Get out.”

“This is my house.”

“I don’t care! Go away, don’t come back until tomorrow, otherwise you won’t see me ever again!”

You gulped, and in the brief pause that followed, you quickly knocked on the door, not wanting to intrude any longer, and hoping your arrival would calm them.

“That’ll be Y/N,” Carol sighed.

“Hm, at least she knows her place around here.”

The door opened and you were faced with Mr. Aird, who’s face was still angry and red. You clutched your purse in front of you.

“H-hello, Mr. Aird.”

“Y/N,” he grunted, before brushing past you. Then, in an instant, he turned around and said,

“If my wife comes onto you because of her hysterics, you have my permission to call the police,” he spat.

“Harge!” Carol screeched in anger, but he had already jumped in his car and drove away.

There was a very light snowfall, and a few flakes collected on your hair and eyelashes. Carol looked to be on the brink of crying, and you frowned,

“I don’t know what he means-,”

“It’s fine, forget about it,” she waved her hand dismissively, her breathing heavy, “come in. I’ll go get Rindy.”

You let her walk ahead of you, seeing the tension in her shoulders as she went down the hallway. Tentatively, you followed, hearing Carol say,

“Rindy, guess who’s here?”

“Y/N!” The toddler screamed as soon as she came into view, rushing over to you.

“Hello, sweetie!” you laughed, picking her up to set her on your hip.

“You’re just in time for cookies,” Carol said as Rindy laughed and played with your hair. She pulled open the oven and the warm, sweet smell of freshly baked goods washed over you.

Carol approached you, bent her head towards your ear, and whispered, “I have a few more presents left to wrap, but I can’t let her out of my sight alone. Will you distract her and decorate the cookies together?”

A warm flush rose up your neck at the low, whispery tone of her voice and her sweet perfume filling your nose. Afraid you couldn’t reply a coherent sentence, you simply nodded.

She squeezed your hand in thanks and disappeared into another room, and you reminded yourself to breathe.

There were small tubs of icing on the counter and you grabbed one of Carol’s well-worn aprons to protect your clothes from the incoming damage. Rindy giggled and began pulling at a small stool for her tucked away in the kitchen corner.

You put on a Christmas record as the two of you worked, helping Rindy spread red and green icing over the cookies, covering with sprinkles. Somewhere along the way, you snuck a cookie into your mouth as Rindy dipped another in icing and accidentally dropped it in, clumsily pulling it out.

Soon your hands were covered in it as well, and Rindy somehow had gotten some icing in her hair. You cleaned it out as best you could, while Rindy giggled, standing by the sink.

“What are my girls getting up to now?” Carol asked as she came back into the kitchen. You blushed at her words, gesturing to Rindy apologetically,

“We got icing in her hair.”

Carol’s eyebrow raised, “Oh? Well, then it’s high time for a bath. I’ll have to wash your clothes too, Rindy, look at all the sugar you got on yourself.”

Rindy giggled, gleefully like only an innocent child could. She then pointed at the cookies,

“But Mommy, look!”

“Oh, they’re beautiful, sweet pea, every one of them. Come on, it’s bath time now.”

“Nuh-uh,” Rindy protested, pointing firmly. “One’s gone!”

Uh-oh...

“Y/N ate one!”

Your face flushed red, not thinking Rindy would have kept count, and your mouth dropped open. Rindy was perched on her stool, pointing at the plate and then at you.

“That’s bad! You’re on the naughty list!” she giggled, “Santa’s not gonna give you gifts!”

“I- wh-.. I...” you were shellshocked, flabbergasted. You glanced at Carol, expecting a scold, like you were a child who’d been caught, but she was smiling, her eyes looking at you intently.

“It was only one,” you protested.

“Oh, but that doesn’t matter to Santa,” Carol said, teasingly, and you felt a chill run down your spine, “Santa doesn’t look at how many cookies you steal, Y/N. Only that you did.”

Rindy bounced towards you, tugging at both your skirts, giggling, “you’ll get coal for Christmas!”

“Now, Rindy, be nice,” Carol tutted, scooping her up, “you still have to be good up until Christmas, right? So that means having your bath and going to bed on time.”

Rindy pouted, but didn’t protest, and Carol carried her upstairs without much fuss.

As Carol busied herself with getting Rindy to bed, you chucked a new log onto the dying fireplace in the living room, watching the sparks fly and hoping the heat would hide the actual flush on your face.

You stayed on the carpet a little longer, legs tucked under you as you watched the flames dance.

“Out like a light,” Carol sighed, making you turn around and look over at her coming into the living room. She sat down on the couch and lit up a cigarette. You watched the blue-grey haze surround her and it wasn’t until her eyes locked with yours that you realized you were staring.

You turned back to watch the fire, your hands resting delicately in your lap. Something crackled in the air.

“She’ll be a feisty one when she grows up,” Carol said, puffing cigarette smoke into the air.

“Just like her mother,” you smiled. “The world needs more feisty women.”

Carol let out a dry laugh, “Harge wouldn't agree. If he had his way, I’d be locked away in this house, like any other old, problematic housewife.”

There were stern lines in her face as she watched the fire, and you stood up from where you were sitting, hand grabbing your opposite elbow awkwardly.

“You’re beautiful, you know,” you blurted out. Carol looked over at you, surprised. “And what Mr. Aird said was- was wrong. About a woman’s place, I mean. He’s lucky to have you.”

“So you heard that,” Carol grimaced. You rubbed the back of your neck, shy.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it.”

“It’s alright,” she sighed, glancing you up and down, her head tilting in curiosity. “But what is?”

“What’s what?”

“A woman’s place. Where do you think that is?” Carol’s eyes were piercing you, ripping every bit of your soul open to her.

“A woman’s place...” you trailed off, because now she was rising up, approaching you, cigarette in the ashtray, with the grace of a hungry lioness, “a woman’s place is wherever she wants it to be.”

Carol smiled, “I agree. You’re very thoughtful, Y/N.”

“Not really,” you muttered.

“No, you are,” she said, tilting your chin up with her fingers to meet her gaze. Her face was lit beautifully by the flickering fire, “you’re wonderful. And I can’t tell you how grateful I am for spending all this time with a cranky lady and her daughter.”

“You’re not cranky!” you protested with a laugh, pulling her hand down from your chin and clasping it in yours, “you’re incredible.”

Carol smiled, her cheeks rosy, and looked down at your joined hands, “are you trying to make up for stealing one of my well-baked cookies?”

You sputtered indignantly, “I didn’t steal-”

“Last I checked, there was another one missing,” Carol winked, pulling a cookie out of her pocket and waving it in front of your face. You gaped. What was she trying to do?

“Now, I don’t know about you,” she said, biting into the cookie, “but I suspect the previous culprit may have taken it.”

“What are you- you’re eating it right n-”

“Can you prove that?” Carol purred, finishing the cookie. “Rindy won’t believe you, will she? Because I rarely ever eat sweets.”

“You- you...”

“Really, Y/N,” she said, bending her head low and brushing her lips along your cheek, making your breath stutter, “you already got caught once, and now again? You seem like you want to be on the naughty list.”

“P-please..” you stammered, your body rising up against hers in response to the growing heat between your legs, “Mrs. Aird...”

Carol’s head snapped back, eyed you closely, hesitating, wondering. You took the chance, and surged up with your mouth to hers, tasting a few crumbs and the sweetness of icing along her lips.

As soon as you realized what you were doing, you tore yourself away and stumbled back, panting.

“I’m s-so sorry,” you yelped, eyes wide.

“It’s alright,” Carol muttered, her hands clenching by her sides. “I don’t mind.”

“B-but.. you have a husband-”

“Hah! Barely.”

“And- and I’m a girl,” you said, dumbfounded. Carol merely grinned, wide and excited, moving towards you and wrapping her arms around your waist, meeting your lips,

“Exactly.”

You melted in her arms, whimpering softly as her full lips moved along yours.

“Sh-shouldn’t I go home soon?” you gasped breathlessly as her mouth moved to your jawline and neck. “It’s so late..”

“Oh, no, darling,” she grinned, “Unless you want to?”

She pulled away briefly, saw the desire in your eyes, brushed her nose against yours, “I think you need to be taught a lesson first, hm?”

“A.. lesson?” you repeated in a small voice.

“Mhm,” she smiled, “a naughty girl like you needs to know what her place is, wouldn’t you agree?”

Your mouth hung open, oh...

“Now, I’m no Santa Claus, so I can’t give you any coal.. I’ll have to be creative, I suppose.”

She looked at you through her lashes, “would you like that?”

You nodded without thinking, and she chuckled, arm circling your waist and lips pressing against your neck again,

“I w-would..” you whimpered.

Carol groaned at the sound, tugging you closer, moving her hips against yours. Your hand tangled in her golden locks, feeling weightless, untethered, and the only thing grounding you was Carol’s hot mouth, moving over your skin like fire.

“Go to the kitchen,” she ordered. You blinked in surprise, but did as she asked. Once there, you stood awkwardly, wondering what she wanted, what she had in mind.

Carol grasped your hand and tugged it to one of the tubs of icing. You dipped a finger in, taking out a generous amount, the red colour vibrant in the dim lighting.

Keep her eyes locked on yours, Carol leaned forward and wrapped her lips around your finger, sucking and licking the sweetness off of your skin. The groan that came out of you seemed barely human, and your knees trembled.

Her skilled tongue swirled around your finger slowly and sensually, watching your resolve breaking, your breathing pick up. She released your hand and blew softly on the wet skin, making you mewl.

She chuckled darkly, “would you like some too, sweetheart?”

You nodded frantically, feeling the pulsing heat between your legs. But Carol had other plans as she pushed you up against the edge of the countertop.

“Before you get anymore sweets, you have to prove that you’ve been a good girl, okay?” you nodded again, tugging at your lower lip with your teeth.

“Are you sure you can handle that, princess?” Carol growled, fingers digging into your hips. You gasped, body arching. Carol looked at the way you quivered, the way your pelvis rose towards her, and she pushed her hand down, creating a sweet, sweet pressure in your lower belly.

“Don’t misbehave,” she muttered. Then, her eyes wandered up and down your body, seeing how you trembled and strained against the countertop, your legs nearly giving out. Taking pity on you, she pulled you away from the kitchen, kissing you sweetly.

She lead you down the hall, walking quietly on the carpet to the guest bedroom. You were relieved that she didn't take you to her main bedroom. As much as you enjoyed the thought of Carol naked under those sheets, you also couldn’t ignore the thought of Harge in that bed with her.

“Why are you frowning, darling?” Carol muttered, pulling you closer once inside the bedroom, brushing her lips over your forehead, then your eyes and mouth.

You shook your head, blinking the thoughts away, and a sultry smirk appeared on your lips again, instead focusing on the Carol, naked under the sheets bit.

You kissed her, taking charge this time, much to Carol’s delight. You put your hands in her hair, tugging until a sweet moan escaped her.

“Not so fast,” she grunted as your hands began pulling at her dress, wanting it gone. “Which one of us was on the naughty list, hm?”

Then you found yourself on your back, on the bed, Carol stripping your clothes with ease, an eagerness behind her gaze that made you blush and your breath catch in your throat.

“I th-think you’re very close with getting your own name on that list, Mrs. A-Aird,” you gasped as she kissed down your naked body.

Carol grinned against your abdomen, licking a stripe towards your centre. She could smell all of you, and she enjoyed pulling your thighs apart and see you shiver, just watching your sex throb, glistening with arousal.

Then she put her mouth on you, and you shuddered.

Carol relished this, the feeling of you bucking up to her mouth, chasing her tongue, howling and whining with pleasure.

You let out a shout as she hit a particularly sensitive spot and she smacked your thigh as a reprimand,

“Quiet.”

You panted ragged, airy breaths as you tried to do what she said, but her tongue kept pressing against that sensitive spot and you felt your body give in.

You let out low groans and pleads, begging,

“P-please... m-more..”

Carol raised an eyebrow, “more, darling?”

“Yes, yes, oh.. Carol,” you said, her name like a prayer on your lips.

Oh, Carol could hardly stand it anymore, her stockings had gotten wet with her own arousal running down her thighs. She pushed herself away from you, grinning as your body went limp in shock as the pleasure left you.

“C-Carol..” you begged again, reaching for her. She shushed you and began to undress. That got your attention very quickly, and you rose up on your knees to watch her.

As every piece fell to the floor, you felt your pulse quicken. Her body was beautiful, far too beautiful for you to handle. The way she flicked her hair over her shoulder and beckoned you with one finger nearly made you come on the spot.

“How about something else that’s sweet?” Carol murmured. You almost fell off the bed as you moved towards her. She kissed you, forced your mouth open and entered you with her tongue. You gasped and let yourself be touched, let yourself be held. Her hands wandered, stroking and caressing every inch of your body with a warm touch.

Then, they settled heavily on your shoulders and she pushed you down to your knees. You were afraid you wouldn’t know how to please her, but the sight of her standing before you and the irresistible smell of her sex made you swoon and lean forward anyways.

The first lick made Carol’s head drop back, and she immediately brougt her hand up to bite into it to stop the lustful noises threatening to escape.

Your head was dizzy from the taste of her, and you licked again. And again, and again, until you needed more and brought your hands up to help.

You pushed her legs to stand a little further apart, and then dipped your tongue between the folds.

“Oh!” Carol sighed, a heavenly sound, “that’s a good girl..”

You whined into her sex, tongue flicking ardently. You trailed upwards, finding the small bundle of nerves that always felt good on your own body. As soon as you found it, Carol’s hands landed in your hair, pulling sharply.

“Yes!” She gasped, “oh, goodness- yes. Just like that.”

You kept licking and then sucking, letting her rock her body and cunt against your mouth. The lower half of your face was covered entirely by her juices, and your hands reached to grasp her ass, palming the supple flesh, helping her steadily move against you.

“Oh,” she breathed, “oh, yes- yes, yes, keep going. So close- oh, baby girl you’re doing so wonderful..”

Her words made it hard to focus, your cunt throbbing, your hips rocking involuntarily. But you breathed deeply, steadied yourself, and pressed Carol fully against your open mouth, tongue rocking with her hips’ movements.

Carol arched, gasped, and curled over you as she came, holding your hair and shaking all over. More wetness spilled from between her legs, trailing down your cheeks and into your mouth.

You moaned at the taste and she gasped weakly at the vibration it sent through her body. Her legs were shaking so violently you thought she might collapse.

But then she regained her composure, and looked down at you with blown pupils before pulling you up to your feet.

Her lips and tongue attacked your face, kissing your cheeks, sucking your lips, tasting herself on your skin.

“Good girl,” she said, making you shiver, “I think you’ve proven yourself.”

She grinned at you and you wanted to smile back, but the arousal still coursing through your body made it hard to focus. Carol noticed, she always noticed.

“How about a reward then?” She asked softly.

“Y-yes, please, Mrs. Aird,” you answered almost instinctively. She chuckled at how needy you were, kissing you deeply.

“Call me by my first name,” she said.

“Carol...” you were rewarded by nibble of her teeth along your neck. “Oh! C-Carol..”

She smiled and pushed you down on the bed again. Instantly, her body covered yours, warm and soft, and her lips closed around a nipple. Your back arched.

“Carol!”

Her hand found your sex, and she pulled back in amazement, looking down at how wet you were.

“Oh my... baby girl, you’re positively soaked.”

She rubbed over your cunt, gathering wetness all over her fingers and prodding gently at your entrance.

“P-please...” you said again, the word having lost all meaning at this point. You couldn’t help but keep saying it, because Carol liked it when you begged, and you liked what Carol gave you when you did.

She pushed inside, marveling at how tight you were, and her thumb pressed against your clit.

It wouldn’t take long, you knew it. Your body was ready to explode at any moment, and you clawed at Carol’s arms, pulling her down to you.

“C-Carol, kiss me,” you begged. Her lips founds yours instantly, but she couldn’t help but pull back just a bit, simply to tease,

“Does it feel nice, princess? This is what good girls get, when they’ve been on the nice list,” she growled, pressing harder and faster. “When they don’t take cookies that aren’t ready to be eaten yet.”

“Oh G-god.. Carol,” you whined in defiant protest, “I wasn’t.. I didn’t mean...”

“Shhhh, be a good girl and take it,” Carol said, taking your lower lip between her teeth and biting gently.

You came as if a tsunami had erupted. Distant at first, and then thundering down all at once. Carol kept moving, not stopping her motions until you were bucking up and thrashing at the overstimulation of her fingers, whining and pleading.

Only then did she relent, releasing her grip on you and letting you catch your breath.

You were shaking, Carol’s taste still present in your mouth, an ache between your legs where her fingers had been. Then her mouth and tongue, lapping at your lips, opening you wide so you could breathe all of her in.

“Fuck...” you whimpered. Carol’s eyes opened and she smiled,

“I think that’s the first time I’ve heard you swear,” she chuckled.

“You can’t swear around a three year old,” you replied, “otherwise you would’ve fired me.”

Carol grinned, kissing your nose, “No, I don’t think I would have.”

You turned your head to glance at the clock and your stomach plummeted.

“I should call a cab,” you said. Carol pulled you close.

“No, you shouldn’t. Stay a while,” she pleaded in your ear. “Let me hold you.”

“But Harge..”

“Isn’t coming back until morning. I’ll call a cab just before six, alright? He never wakes until eight, at least.”

Your stomach churned and she gave you a pointed look. You didn’t want to be caught, or fired, or worse, having Carol be blamed for everything.

"You merely spent the night, darling, because you were so tired after being here,” Carol arched an eyebrow, “gosh, whatever could’ve made you so exhausted? Maybe all those cookies..”

You lightly slapped her arm and giggled, “you are by far the worst employer I’ve ever had, Mrs. Aird.”

She pressed a finger to your lips and said, “Nuh-uh, princess. What’s my name?”

You trembled under her gaze, eyes drooping with both sleep and lust,

“Carol.”

A/N: I think this may be one of my longest one-shot fics... idk what that tells you about me as a person lol but ohh well :) AND this is my 200th post! Wow!

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ourmiraclealigner · 3 years

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Easy CO. Holiday Reacts

Gif not mine! Credit to owner.

a/n: happy holidays everyone! i know everyone doesn’t celebrate Christmas, so if you don’t, no specific holiday is mentioned in this so everyone can read :)

warnings: none

taglist: @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant @mavysnavy @ivy-miranda-2390 @ya-yeeteth @rayofshanshine @primusk @punkgeekchic @inglourious-imagines @wexhappyxfew @vintagelavenderskies @easy-company-tradition @meteora-fc @teenmagazines @order-of-river-phoenix @contrabandhothead

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Richard Winters:

- When the holiday season rolls around, Richard can’t stop the excitement that arises in him.

- It’s not the gifts that excite him, Richard always tells everyone to not get him anything and that he already has everything he needs.

- He’s excited about the time that he gets to spend with you- decorating, cooking, and shopping for presents for friends and family.

- He loves the little break from work he gets, content with getting to sleep in, with you in his arms.

- He knows it’s time he’ll never get back, and he cherishes it more than any gift anyone could possibly get him.

- He finds himself happier than he ever thought he could be when he wakes up with you in his arms, protecting each other from the cold air that is just outside your mess of blankets.

- After a few minutes, he can’t stop himself from pressing light, fleeting kisses to your face, smiling when your eyes flutter open.

Lewis Nixon:

- Unlike Richard, gifts are a big thing for Lewis during the holidays.

- Since he grew up with a wealthy family, he uses his money to show his love.

- He showers you with gifts all month long, handing them to you with a smile, his hands sweaty with anticipation.

- “I know you mentioned wanting this a while ago, I just couldn’t find it anywhere until a few days ago. I’ve been looking all around.”

- He looks at you nervously as you unwrap the box, smiling when you realize it’s a book you had told him you were interested in reading.

- He wraps his arm around you as you thank him, pulling you into his side.

- “I’m glad you like it, sweetheart.” He mumbles as he presses a kiss to your forehead.

Ron Speirs:

- Ron is indifferent when it comes to the holidays.

- He’s not overly excited or overly annoyed by the holiday cheer, he doesn’t care either way.

- He doesn't spoil your fun though, taking you to go see the lights in the city and in your neighborhood.

- You both get bundled up, hands intertwined as you walk around with smiles.

- He’ll kiss your temple whenever your face lights up, mumbling “You like this one? It’s pretty.”

- As you walk back to the car, he’ll unbutton his coat before pulling you into his side, wrapping his arm and half of his coat around you.

- “You’re so cold, baby, let me warm you up.”

Eugene Roe:

- Growing up with a big family, the holidays always meant chaos for Eugene.

- When he went away to fight, he spent too many away from home, experiencing a new kind of chaos.

- So, when you and Gene spent your first December together, he was shocked to find himself relaxed every night.

- He’d sit on the couch, exhausted and eyes half lidded as he watched you hang up the decorations and hum to yourself.

- “Come here.” He’d always end up mumbling, patting the open spot next to him. “I miss you.”

- When you did, he’d wrap his arm around your shoulder, leaning his head against yours as he let his eyes finally shut.

- “Let's keep the decorations up until after the New Year… they’re too cute to take down right away.” He sleepily mumbles, fingers rubbing soft patterns into the skin of your shoulder.

George Luz:

- George loves the holidays, and he’s not afraid to show it.

- Every year he goes above and beyond, coming home with more decorations than the year before.

- He’s always humming some sort of song as he’s working around the house, and even loves to help you in the kitchen.

- He’s always gently tugging on your waist after a few minutes, whining and begging you to slow dance with him.

- When you finally agree, his head immediately nuzzles into your neck as he softly sings whatever song is playing (somehow he knows them all).

- After a few songs he lifts his head, pressing a light kiss to your nose as he mumbles, “I’m so lucky I get to spend another holiday with you.”

- He’ll press a chaste kiss to your lips before pulling away, stepping closer to the counter. “Teach me how to make these.”

Joe Liebgott:

- Joe tries to act like he hates when the holiday season rolls around, but deep down, he loves it.

- He’ll help you decorate, feigning a few sighs as your favorite record plays softly in the background. After some convincing, he’ll start a fire in the fireplace, your small, shared house cozy as his cat hits some of the decorations with their paw.

- “Joe, you really don’t have to help me.” You say softly, “I don’t want you to be miserable.”

- He feels his chest tighten, his cheeks flushing as he realizes how pretty you look as the soft light of the fire hits you.

- “No, no, it’s fine.” He responds, his tone gentle. “It’ll be quicker if I help, right?”

- You chuckle, knowing Joe was having a better time than he was letting on. “Right.”

- He kisses your cheek, hand lingering on your back before he mumbles “Let me help you with this..”

Don Malarkey:

- Don gets quiet during the holidays.

- December always brings back memories he’d like to forget, and he finds it hard to come back after he shuts down.

- But, you brought new life back to the month, replacing the sorrow and dread he felt with love and happiness.

- You prefer to stay in most nights, forgoing endless invitations to dinners and parties to be able to stay inside, exchanging small gifts and kisses as you listen to the radio.

- You stay wrapped inside of a blanket, pressed against his side as he runs his fingers through your hair most nights.

- He’ll quietly sing if he knows the lyrics to whatever song is playing, his deep soothing voice lulling you to sleep.

- And once he realizes you’ve fallen asleep, he’ll gently pick you up and carry you to bed, pressing a kiss to your cheek before slipping in next to you.

Chuck Grant:

- Chuck tries to be home a lot earlier than usual when December rolls around.

- Other months, he finds himself working later than he planned, always feeling guilty when he walks through the door to find you haven't eaten dinner, and were waiting for him.

- So, he makes a point to always close on time in order to be home as you start cooking, so he can talk to you and help you.

- You don’t do much for the holidays, opting to just spend it with your families when the days roll around.

- Of course, you’ll get each other gifts and drive around to see the lights, but nothing much besides that.

- Growing up, Chuck's family never did much for the holidays, so that was what he was used to.

- As you lay in bed, his hand running up and down your side, he’ll mumble “I love doing this with you..just you and me here, nothing to worry about.”

Floyd Talbert:

- You and Floyd are very seldom home or alone during the holiday season.

- You’ve both made a lot of friends, so almost every weekend you’re having dinner or at a party celebrating.

- You spend a lot of time and money on gifts for friends and family, and it seems as if you’re trying to figure out a new dish to bring to every party.

- He still tries to make the month special for you, making sure there’s a few days that you both can just stay home and relax.

- After a few years, though, Floyd gets tired of the constant get togethers, so you both decide not to attend anymore.

- You spend the nights at home, alone together, sometimes venturing into town to see a holiday movie.

- He prefers it this way, always telling you how much he loves being alone with you.

Shifty Powers:

- Shifty prefers to spend his time outside during the holidays.

- As soon as he gets home from work he’s changing into warmer clothes, wanting to get outside as quickly as possible.

- Any winter activities, you’ll end up doing.

- He loves sledding and building snowmen (even though it always ends up in a big snowball fight).

- You went ice skating once, but it ended in a lot of bruises between the both of you as neither of you could keep your balance.

- He prefers somewhere private anyway, as he likes to press kisses to your red nose to try to keep it warm.

- “You look so cold, baby..why don’t we start heading inside?” He’ll always say as the sun begins to set.

Bill Guarnere:

- December means lots of time with Bill’s family.

- It’s quite a stressful month for the both of you, trying to figure out what days to go to his family, what days to go to yours, what gifts you’re going to buy, what dish you’re going to bring, etc.

- Bill is hardly any help, he’s awful at relaying information between you and his mom and sisters.

- He tries, but always forgets by the time he means to tell you.

- He’s used to the holiday stress though, so he doesn’t let it cloud his joy.

- When he sees it start to affect yours, though, he does what he always loved to do as a child- go get candy.

- With a big smile, he takes you to the candy store he often went to as a child, getting a bag full of his favorites and new things to try, so you can both go home and enjoy.

Joe Toye:

- Joe is the only one that genuinely does not like the holiday season.

- He pretends it isn’t happening, and treats the whole month like it was just any other.

- He is clear about not wanting any gifts, and will get upset if you try to give him any.

- Of course, he’ll get you one or two, to try and show how grateful he is for everything you’ve done for him and how you’ve stuck by his side.

- But, there's no decorations, or baking, or strolls through town looking at the lights.

- After a few years, he loosens up, but still has no interest in doing anything except getting gifts and letting you make cookies.

- He’ll always apologize, though, feeling awful for taking away your fun, but hoping you’ll understand.

Babe Heffron:

- Babe’s excitement is up there with George’s, but is not quite as high.

- He loves it more than you, and will spend all month talking about how excited he is, and how much fun he’s having.

- He’s used to getting spoiled by his mother though, so he keeps bugging you to make all of these recipes his mother does until you give in.

- Babe is also constantly slipping and falling on ice, so you’re constantly cleaning and bandaging small cuts and scrapes.

- You swear he comes home with a new one everyday.

- Once you finish, he’ll always press a light kiss to your lips, a soft smile on his face as he looks down at you.

- “Thank you for taking such good care of me, baby.” He’ll softly mumble.

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debbiechanclub · 3 years

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“Bar Bingo” - Trent x OFC

Here’s the promised BTOOT-iverse Christmas fic, a couple days late. But better late than never, right? Plus I actually love how it turned out, and I sincerely hope you all do too 😊. For those familiar with my and @hotyeehawman‘s fic, “Best Two Out of Three,” (a.k.a. BTOOT), this fic takes place before the start of BTOOT, in December 2019. And for those of you who have been aching for some Trent/Alex... this one’s for you.

If you’re NOT familiar with BTOOT, don’t worry; this fic stands alone. But if you like it and want to check out the main fic, you can find my masterlist here.

Alright, enough rambling. Enjoy!

“Bar Bingo,” a BTOOT Christmas fic

Theme: @12daysofchristmas Day 7 - Holiday Dinner/Party & Day 8 - Fireplace/Stockings

Fandom/Character(s): AEW/Best Friends and Orange Cassidy... with some Trent x OFC 👀

Warnings: Cursing, alcohol use, a teeny bit of angst

Word Count: 3.2k

Tag squad: @freshlysqueezedmox @champbucks @comeasyoudar @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @librathepheonix13 @gabbynorth98 @exe-sadboi-exe @bec0m

There had been a time when Alex didn’t really care for Christmas. She wasn’t a Scrooge, per se, but it was far from her favorite holiday. She’d never believed in Santa Claus; she didn’t have family Christmas traditions; cheesy Hallmark movies made her cringe. But, over the last few years, she’d found herself getting more and more into the Christmas spirit—and there was one newly created tradition she looked forward to in particular: the ugly sweater bar crawl with the boys.

“What d’you think?” Chuck proudly held out his arms as he stood next to Orange, showcasing their knit sweaters. Orange’s was green and red and said, “Merry Christmas Ya Filthy Animal,” while Chuck’s was black and read, “Buzz, Your Girlfriend, Woof!” A wide smile spread across Alex’s face. They hadn’t intentionally both picked Home Alone-themed sweaters—it had just happened.

“Perfect,” she nodded in approval. “Now if only someone hadn’t missed the Christmas movie memo.”

They all looked pointedly at Trent. Whereas Alex’s sweater also referenced a Christmas classic—red and white with an RV and “Shitter’s Full” knitted across the front—Trent’s black sweater featured a pair of red and green Christmas ornaments and simply said, “Balls.”

“There was no memo,” he defended. “It’s not my fault the three of you share a brain cell.”

“Oh no, that’s bullshit,” Chuck shot. ��I told you the three of us got movie sweaters. You could have gotten that light-up sweater with the leg lamp from A Christmas Story!”

“Not for seventy bucks!”

Alex’s eyes widened. “Seventy bucks?”

“Yeah!”

“Oh.”

“You could have gotten one of the other Christmas Vacation ones and matched with Alex,” Orange pointed out.

“Yeah, we could have matched, Trent,” Alex piled on.

But Trent just stared blankly back at them. “I liked this one.”

She gave him an overly sweet smile in return. “Well, it’s very you. I’ll give you that.”

“Uh, yeah. That’s why I got it, Alex,” he obviously stated. She just shook her head at him. They’d be going back-and-forth all night. They always did whenever they drank together.

“Alright, well are we going?” she asked with a look at the time on her phone. “I wanted a buzz twenty minutes ago.”

“I’ll give you a Buzz,” Chuck exaggeratedly returned. He pointed at his sweater, an excited, goofy grin on his face. “Huh? Huh?”

But the awful dad joke didn’t get the pop he wanted. “No,” Jim said. Chuck’s face fell.

“Y’all suck.”

“Balls,” Trent added, right on cue. It made Alex and Orange both audibly smirk.

“That’s what you laugh at?” Chuck incredulously proclaimed. “Alright, let’s go, I need a drink.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Two bars in and on their way to the third, everyone was feeling toasty and bright as they made their way down Market Street in Philadelphia’s Center City District. Festive lights, wreaths, and decorations adorned the trees and storefronts, and there was a definite feeling of Christmas in the air. Alex loved Philadelphia at Christmas. It was one of the reasons her heart had warmed to the holiday.

She looped her arm through Trent’s and hugged herself close as they walked, hoping to steal some of his body heat to ward off the bite in the air. They’d all opted to leave their coats behind, not wanting to deal with constantly taking them on and off and likely having to hold them all night. Thankfully, it wasn’t freezing, and the alcohol in their systems helped. But Alex knew she’d feel it in her bones by the end of the night.

“Remind me what we still need in bar bingo?” she asked. Bar bingo was a game they’d made up a while ago: if they could spot people with or wearing five specific items, they’d all take a shot. And they’d given it a Christmas twist tonight.

“Well, we already got the lumberjack beard and Santa hat,” Chuck counted off on his fingers. “So, we still need someone ‘suited up,’ someone wearing a black and red checkered flannel, and someone other than us wearing an ugly sweater.”

“We’re not gonna get the ugly sweater,” Trent pessimistically commented. “We’re the only idiots out here drinking in ugly Christmas sweaters.”

Alex pouted. But then she had a thought. “What if I took mine off and put it on someone else? Would that count?”

“Yes,” Orange immediately answered. It earned him a sidelong glance from Chuck.

“As much I would like to see that,” Trent said, “I’m not trying to get kicked out of a bar tonight.”

“I’m sure you would like to see it,” Alex returned with a flirty grin. “But you wouldn’t, and we wouldn’t get kicked out. I’m wearing a tank top underneath. This sweater is scratchy.”

The corners of Trent’s mouth turned down. “Well, that’s disappointing.”

They arrived at their third stop, a two-level Irish pub that was Alex’s favorite spot of the night. It was homey and warm and inviting and always a good time. It was where she always wanted to go whenever she was in town.

Chuck leaned into her to be heard over the din of talking and live music that filled the pub. “I doubt they are, but you want me to see if one of the tables by the fireplace upstairs is available?”

“Please,” she returned. She really hoped one was available; sitting by a fire sounded perfect. “I’ll get the drinks this round.” She turned to Trent. “Come help me carry them.”

She grabbed his wrist and pulled him with her to the bar, wedging herself in between a middle-aged couple and a group of twenty-somethings. It was crowded, and Trent had to come up close behind her, his chest brushing her back. “What do you want?” she asked him.

“The usual.”

One of the bartenders came around and nodded and smiled in greeting, remarking that it had been a while since he’d seen them and complimenting both their sweaters with an amused smirk. Alex thanked him and ordered all their drinks. As he walked away, she maneuvered to retrieve her phone from her back pocket. She froze when she saw the screen. She had a text. From Kenny.

You look cute in your ugly sweater.

Alex felt a rush of heat under her collar. She’d figured Kenny would see the selfie she’d posted to Instagram—maybe even hoped he would—but she hadn’t thought he would say anything. She didn’t know what to make of it. It swelled old feelings inside her that she’d been trying to ignore the last few weeks. She blamed the holidays. No one wanted to be alone during the holidays, and she and Kenny had ended their fling right before the start of cuffing season. She tried to tell herself that that was why she’d found her thoughts turning to him in quiet moments recently: she didn’t actually miss him—she missed the idea of him. An idea that he wasn’t even willing to give her.

“You’re not talking to him again, are you?”

Trent’s question drew her out of her thoughts. He’d seen the text. He and Chuck knew about all she’d gone through with Kenny. She locked her phone and placed it face down on the bar top. “No. I’m not,” she answered. But she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t thought about it.

Trent moved closer behind her. Whether intentionally or not, he placed one hand on her hip while he held the other out in front of her. “Give me your phone.”

She twisted to give him a bewildered look. “What? Why?”

“Because. You’re a drunk texter. Even if you say you don’t, I know you want to text him back. And then you’ll probably end up saying something you regret in the morning.”

Alex chewed at her lip and glanced down at her phone. As much as she didn’t want to admit it… he was right. So she picked it up and reluctantly handed it over. Trent squeezed her hip as he took it from her.

“Trust me, you’ll thank me later.”

The bartender set their drinks in front of them, and after Alex paid, they grabbed them and weaved through the crowd to head upstairs. They saw a man in a suit as they went, and Alex turned to give Trent an excited smile—that was one more off the bar bingo list. She was even more excited to find Chuck and Orange sitting at one of the tables next to the double-sided fireplace.

“The people sitting here were leaving just as we got up here, so we snagged it,” Chuck explained. “And… one of them was wearing a black and red flannel.”

“Really?!” Alex proclaimed as she sat down across from him, handing him his drink. “We saw a guy suited up on the way up here.”

“That just leaves the ugly sweater then,” Orange noted. He nudged his chin at Alex. “Pop yours off and put it on someone, I wanna do a shot.”

She smirked at she brought her drink to her lips. “Maybe after this round.”

* * * * * * * * * *

They were supposed to go to one more bar after the pub, but Alex had lobbied for them to stay put. The fire was warm, the atmosphere was lively, the music was good, and the drinks were hitting. She didn’t want to go anywhere. Not until last call forced them back to Chuck’s place.

“What’s taking Jim so long?” she impatiently wondered aloud. Orange had offered to get the next round, and he’d been gone a good fifteen minutes at least. She craned around the fireplace to see if she could spot him at the bar, but she couldn’t get a good enough view. “He’s killing my vibe.”

Suddenly, Chuck’s eyes widened. “Oh fuck.”

“What?” Alex asked.

“That asshole’s disappeared on us again!”

Silent realization settled over the table. It wouldn’t be the first time Orange had disappeared during a night out, let alone on the ugly sweater bar crawl. Last year, he’d just vanished after the third bar; one minute he’d been with them, and the next he wasn’t. When they’d arrived back at Chuck’s apartment hours later, they’d found him fast asleep on the couch. Chuck still had no idea how he’d gotten in. Orange still hadn’t told them where he’d gone or what he’d done, just that he’d “met some people.”

“Why did you let him go to the bar alone?” Chuck asked Alex, as if it were somehow her fault that Orange had disappeared yet again.

“I’m not his keeper!” she fired back. “That’s your job!”

Chuck glowered at her. “I’m gonna see if he’s at the bar,” he said, and he stood from his seat and stalked off, ironically proving her point.

“Well, this sucks,” Trent stated.

“Balls?” Alex added, poking him in the chest. He arched a brow.

“Are you asking for my balls, or…?”

She smirked and shoved his shoulder. He responded by draping his arm over the back of her chair. She leaned her elbow on the table and looked sweetly up at him. “Can I see my phone?”

“No,” he immediately answered.

Her smile dropped into a pout. “Please?”

“No.”

She let out a huff and sat back again. “You get to have yours out on the table but mine is on lockdown? How is that fair?”

“Because I don’t want to drunk text my ex.”

Alex rolled her eyes. “I want to see if Kris has texted me, thank you very much,” she pointedly returned. And then, more softly, “And he’s not my ex. You know that.”

She picked up her empty drink and sipped what she could out of the straw, just to do something. Why had Kenny texted her? What was he playing at? She’d told him that if he couldn’t commit, she couldn’t see him anymore. And he couldn’t, so she’d walked. So why text her that?

“Hey,” Trent lifted his hand from the back of her chair and put it gently on her back. She set her glass back on the table and looked at him. The light of the fire reflected in his dark eyes. “Have you had fun tonight?”

The corners of her mouth turned up in a smile. She nodded. “Yeah, I have.”

He rubbed his thumb over her back. “Then don’t let one text ruin it.”

Alex expelled a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Trent had always been protective of her in a best friend sort of way, but this felt different. Maybe it was the buzz of the alcohol, or the warmth of the fire, or the ooey-gooeyness that seemed to permeate the very air during Christmastime… but it felt like he wasn’t comforting her as just a friend now. It felt like something more.

But then Chuck returned and interrupted the moment. “He’s gone.”

Alex’s brow furrowed. “Are you sure? Maybe he just went to the bathroom.”

“He would’ve had to walk past us to get to the bathroom,” Trent pointed out. He laughed. “Disappearing after offering to get us drinks. What a dick.”

Suddenly, Alex heard her phone get a text in Trent’s pocket; then Trent and Chuck got one, too. “I bet that’s him,” Chuck said as he pulled out his phone. He pursed his lips as he looked at the screen. “Yup.”

Alex leaned over to look at Trent’s phone as he pulled up the message. It was from Orange, alright, and it only said two words. Beer garden.

“Well, that’s helpful,” Trent dryly commented.

“Wait,” Chuck announced. Trent and Alex both looked up at him. He had a concentrated look on his face. “I think I know where he is. Come on.”

* * * * * * * * * *

The beer garden Chuck led them to was catty-cornered from Independence Hall. It was lit up with Christmas lights and packed full of people drinking beer in coats and hats and gloves, their cheeks and noses rosy from the cold as they huddled around portable heaters. And right in the thick of it all, a hot drink in his hand, was none other than Orange Cassidy.

“What the fuck!” Chuck proclaimed as they rejoined him, causing several people around to look their way. “Thanks for ditching us again.”

“And when you were supposed to be getting us drinks, no less,” Alex added.

Jim took a sip of his drink before answering. “Well, what happened was, I was waiting at the bar to get our drinks. But then this group of people came up to pay their tab, and they were all wearing ugly sweaters. And so we started talking, and they invited me to come with them here. So I did. And then I figured I should probably text you all.”

They all stared blankly back at him. And then Trent said, “Never change, Jim.”

He raised his cup in cheers.

“Wait, you said they were wearing ugly sweaters?” Chuck asked. His eyes grew round with excitement. “That means we got bar bingo!”

“Oh shit, we did,” Trent realized. “Do they have liquor here?”

Orange nodded. “Yeah. Mulled wine, too,” he said, gesturing with his cup.

“Alright, well, let’s hurry up and do our shot and leave,” Alex decided, hugging herself to maintain warmth. “It’s way too cold to be standing out here without coats.”

* * * * * * * * * *

They’d decided to head back to Chuck’s place after taking their celebratory bar bingo shot—a Snowball, to keep things festive. Chuck had passed out in his room nearly as soon as they’d gotten back, leaving the rest of them to figure out sleeping arrangements on their own. But, at the moment, Alex was in the kitchen trying to find something hot to drink. She’d thought right: the cold had seeped right into her bones, and she was still freezing despite the central heating in Chuck’s apartment.

Trent gave her a curious look as she clumsily shuffled through the cabinets. “What’re you doing?”

“Looking for hot tea… I’m still freezing.”

He laughed and leaned against the counter. “Come on, you know Chuck doesn’t have any hot tea. Coffee?”

“I don’t want to drink coffee right before going to bed,” she said, but she sighed and gave up her search. “Oh well. I guess I’ll just sleep in my sweater.”

“You can borrow my hoodie,” Trent offered. She looked at him in surprise. “Because you said the sweater is scratchy.”

“Oh. Yeah. Thanks.”

He nodded, and silence settled over them. Not uncomfortable; it was never uncomfortable with Trent. But there was just something more to it. Like how there’d been something more as they’d sat in front of the fireplace at the pub.

Alex leaned against the countertop. “Thank you for taking my phone tonight. You’re right… I probably would have said something I’d regret in the morning.”

“Of course I’m right,” he returned, a smirk on his lips. Alex rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t stifle her smile.

“Hey, what’s that?”

She looked back at him. He walked toward her, his eyes looking at something on the ceiling. Alex curiously followed his line of sight… and saw nothing.

“It’s the ceiling,” she bluntly answered.

He stopped in front of her, still looking up. He pointed. “Right there. Look.”

She looked again, but she still didn’t see whatever it was he was talking about. “Where? There’s nothing there.”

“I think there’s mistletoe.”

Alex looked flatly back at him. So that’s what he was doing. “Oh, okay. There’s no mistletoe, Trent.”

He cocked his head. “Are you sure? Because I swear I see some right there.”

“There’s not.”

“Really? I think you just don’t want to see it.”

His eyes met hers again. They were full of quiet, drunken confidence. Alex bit back another grin. “Are you saying you want to kiss me?”

He stepped closer. “That’s generally what happens under mistletoe, yeah.”

Alex felt a little flutter in her stomach. It was… odd. It wasn’t as if she’d never thought about kissing Trent. She had, as often as they drunkenly flirted with each other. But, standing there in Chuck’s kitchen, she realized that she was actually entertaining it this time. He was close enough. She could just tilt her chin up and press her lips against his, just for a second, to see how it felt. And then, she felt his hands on her hips, pulling her body against his. She angled her mouth toward his, her eyes falling closed, heart pounding in her ears—

And then someone cleared their throat.

Alex let out a startled yelp and slapped a hand to her mouth as she jumped back from Trent into the counter. It was Orange. Thank God it was Orange.

“Don’t stop on my account,” he said.

Alex ran a hand through her hair and looked sheepishly up at Trent. He let out a sigh. “I’ll go see if I can find some more blankets for the air mattress,” he said, and he walked out of the kitchen.

Alex glanced at Orange. He smirked. “So, are you and Trent sharing the air mattress, then?”

Her entire face went red. “Shut up,” she muttered, embarrassed. But as she pushed past him out of the kitchen, she realized she wasn’t cold anymore.

#aew fanfiction #best friends aew #best friends fanfiction #best friends imagine #best friends one shot #chuck taylor fanfiction #chuck taylor imagine #chuck taylor one shot #orange cassidy imagine #orange cassidy fanfiction #orange cassidy one shot #trent beretta fanfiction #trent beretta imagine #trent berettea one shot #btoot #12daysofChristmas

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sincerlypadfoot · 3 years

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Seconds (1)

Word Count- 1345

Send Requests Here

~During the time of the order of Umbridge and the dumbledore army, you have no problems summoning your Patronus, doing it on the daily, watching the dragon fly around your room, but once you see someone who catches your eye who has troubles, you're determined to find his happy moment

“Everyone casting a Patronus is easy, but casting a full-body one is the hardest, everyone practice, even if you don’t get it right away, it’s okay” Harry shouted walking around the room. I looked at Hermione and smiled.

I flicked my wand in the air, shooting out a dragon, I smiled looking at the dragon that crawling around, flying around and scaring people.

“That is awesome,” Hermione said chuckling, I put my wand down, the dragon disappeared in the air. “Watch,” She said hitting my shoulder, a otter flew out of her wand, landing in the air dancing around.

“That's awesome,” Harry shouted walking over to the both of us. “That's really awesome, Neville,” He shouted walking from us to Neville, the boy who jumped at the sound of Harry walking towards him. “Why don’t you try,” He suggested.

“I don’t think I can do it,” Neville nervously said. I watched him, turning my body and looking at the nervous boy who lifted up his wand. “Expecto Patronum,” Neville shouted casting everyone's attention, a little blue light came out of his wand, nothing more than a light.

“I think we’re gonna call it a day everyone!” Harry shouted tapping Neville on the shoulder. “Practice your movement during winter break, I’m proud of you all!” He shouted as everyone flooded out.

“I’ll find you later, I have something to do,” I whispered to Hermione taking off quickly walking in front. “Neville hey Neville,” I shouted catching up to the boy who walked in the wrong direction.

“Me?” Neville said turning around. “Hi Liara,�� He said with a smile. “What can I do for you?” He asked stopping and just smiling.

“Do you wanna hang out this summer?” I asked smiling. “I got invited to a carnival this summer, and I have an extra ticket,” I said grabbing the tickets from my pocket.

“You're asking me?” Neville said looking around. “What about Hermione or your other friends?” He said rubbing the back of his neck

“Neville takes the ticket,” I chuckled walking over to him and placing the solid blue and gold ticket in his hand. “I’ll see you this summer okay, I’ll find you,” I smirked turning around and walking back to the common room.

“Liara,” Neville said causing me to stop in my tracks and turn around. “Thank you really, I’ll be waiting,” He chuckled turning around from me and walking around the corner, I smiled looking at the spot he stood.

“Are you coming?” George said walking out of the room. “Liara?” He said snapping me out of my thoughts.

“Yeah yeah I’m coming,” I said sighing and walking up to the twins. “Where are we going?” I asked looking at the two.

“We’re breaking into Umbridge's office, you in?” Fred chuckled pulling out a package from his pocket. “She’ll be hiccuping the rest of the day,” He giggled.

“I’ll have to rain check on this one, but good luck to you too, I’ll be looking forward to seeing Umbridge hunt you two down,” I chuckled playfully hitting their shoulders and turning the corner without them.

Winter Break came by fast, sitting on the train with Hermione who talked about what she was gonna do, Harry who was happy to be going to the Weasleys and Ron who was shoving candy after candy bar into his mouth.

“See you in a couple weeks guys,” I smiled jumping out of the train. “Have fun with the Weasleys Harry,” I yelled walking away from the group, I grabbed my stuff off the trolly and started walking away, getting ready to take the floo network home.

“Godric Hollows,” I called out dropping the pounder on my feet. I appeared in my living room, looking at my older brother who sat on the couch smiling. “Wheres, mom and dad?” I asked stepping out of the fireplace and looking around the house.

“Out, they’ve been out all day, welcome home,” Ryker Nolans said coming up to me and hugging me. “I missed you, I hope you know that,” He whispered in my ear as I dropped my stuff and hugged him back.

“What's wrong?” I asked looking up at my brother. “Where are mom and dad?” I asked getting frustrated.

“They joined the order, don’t freak out, okay don’t,” Ryker said looking down at me. “they’re at the ministry right now, figuring out what to do about him, so it’s just you and I for a while, and Milly,” He smiled.

“Your girlfriends here?” I asked looking at him still. “Do mom and dad know?” I asked smirking.

“Do mom and dad know you gave your last ticket away to a boy when you were supposed to give it to Hermione,” Ryker smiled letting me go. “Tell me about him,” He said sitting down on the couch.

“It’s nothing, I just wanna show him the carnival we were invited to, and he can’t cast a Patronus, so many that’ll be a happy memory and he’ll be able to cast one,” I smiled picking up my bags. “I’ll see you in a bit, tell Milly I said hello,” I chuckled walking past my brother and up the stairs to my room.

A couple days passed and Christmas was only days away, and the carnival was only a couple hours away.

“Milly I need your help,” I shouted bursting into my brother's room. “Ryker out, I need help and you’re not involved,” I said pointing to the door.

“Are you kicking me out of my own room?” Ryker said, I didn’t say anything but kept pointing at the door. “Fine, I can’t even believe this,” I said shaking his head and walking out of the room in only his boxers.

“What would you like help with?” Milly said getting out of her bed. “Let me guess, you don’t have anything to wear, I’ve heard thing a million times from you,” She chuckled putting her hands on her shoulder.

“I don’t have anything to wear,” I shouted tossing my hands up in the air. “I mean I don’t think it’s a date but like I still wanna look nice, I’m trying to make happy memories here,” I chuckled looking at Milly with a nervous smile.

“Come on, let me go see what you’ve got going on in your closet,” Milly said walking passed me, I quickly followed her into my room. “Oh come on,” Milly chuckled opening my closet and taking out a black shirt and jeans. “This is perfect, and you’ve never worn it, you just bought it,” She said turning to me.

“And see, I don’t know what I would do without you in my life, do you have a belt I can borrow?” I asked chuckling. “None of mine look good,” I said with a smile, Milly looking back in my closet pulling out a black belt. “Thank you,” I smiled walking over and pulling Milly into a hug.

“So tell me about this boy, since you won't say anything to your brother, I’ll turn around,” Milly chuckled handing me my clothes, I walked behind her and started to get changed.

“His name is Neville Longbottom, you can’t tell my parents I gave the ticket to him, it was supposed to go to Hermione,” I chuckled tossing my old clothes onto my bed. “He’s nice, very nice and quiet, he doesn’t talk much unless you start the conversion, and I think I might have a little crush on him,” I chuckled slipping on everything. “You can turn around now,” I said taking a breath and exhaling.

“You look wonderful Li,” Milly said hugging me. “Go for it, he seems nice, and I’ll be your wing-woman for the night,” SHe chuckled letting me go.

“Thank you,” I smiled. “We should get going, I have to meet Neville, he lives with his grandma,” I chuckled. “It’s sweet really, I’ll see you at the carnival okay,” I said taking another nervous breath and walking out of the room.

“Li,” Milly said making me turn around. “You're not even close to ready,” She chucked waving her hand back. “Sit down, let me do your makeup,” She chuckled using her wand to bring out the makeup from my vanity and pull out my chair.

#neville longbottom #NevilleLongbottom x #NevilleLongbottom x you #NevilleLongbottom #neville longbottom x reader

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fanficshiddles · 4 years

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Predator to Prey, Chapter 5

Akelia was much happier since Loki gave her a name, he noticed she seemed back to normal. Or what he assumed was her normal.

He acted like he wasn’t overly pleased at all with the black hair on his sofa, but he could easily clean it with a flick of his wrist. So deep down he wasn’t too fussed really.

He did get a bed for her in his room, a single mattress, in the corner near the fireplace. Since he knew she liked to be warm. But she was yet to actually venture into his bedroom, even though he had told her countless times it was ok. She stayed in the living room/kitchen area.

One morning he got up and ventured through to the kitchen for some coffee. It had been an unusually warm night so Akelia was lying flat out on the kitchen floor because it was cooler. He simply stepped over her to get about. She just opened one eye to take a peek at what he was doing, in hopes he was going to drop some food perhaps.

‘You’re going to need to start eating some vegetables and fruit, too. I’m going to be completely out of meat at this rate.’ He muttered as he looked in his freezer.

Akelia got up and stretched with a groan. She walked over to the counter and jumped up with her two front paws, looking at the fruit basket. She easily grabbed an apple and started munching on it. Loki just watched in amusement as she then hopped down from the counter and turned to look at him with a smug look.

‘Ok… I wish I’d known you like fruit and veg ages ago.’ He said, exasperated as he threw his hands up in the air and shut the freezer door.

If wolves could snigger, Akelia would definitely be sniggering.

That night, Akelia actually followed Loki into his bedroom, taking him up on his invitation.

‘I put that mattress there for you. Here, I know you like your comforts. But if it’s too hot just chuck them off.’ Loki said as he tossed some pillows and a blanket down onto the single mattress.

Akelia wagged her tail to show him she was appreciative, then jumped onto her new bed and lay down on the pillows with a big content sigh. She certainly looked comfy, making Loki feel happy inside.

He didn’t know what it was about the wolf, but there was just something about her that was drawing him in. She was a magnificent beast, that was for sure. But it was her intelligence too, almost human-like, in many ways.

As he lay down on his own bed, he thought back to when he was a child and had been desperate for a pet wolf. But Odin had forbidden it. So being the mischievous kid he was, he had often run off to the forest to try and make friends with the wild wolves, but it never really worked.

The course of the following week was a pleasant one. Loki and Akelia went hunting together most days. They worked together getting as much meat as possible, since they both had good appetites.

Loki was sent a sacrifice on the Thursday night. He took great pleasure in using the girl’s body for his own selfish needs while Akelia had decided to sleep in the living room that night. Scaring the girl when she was leaving.

Loki also decided to splurge on a pizza one night that he’d managed to convince the sacrifice to send back to him. He may be a God, but Gods could still pig out on takeaway food from time to time.

He sat down with his pizza after feeding Akelia some pheasant and veg. But she wolfed her food down and then moved to sit at Loki’s side. She licked her lips and stared intently at the slice of pizza Loki picked up and was about to bite into, watching his every move like a hawk.

'You're a wolf, you can't eat processed food like this.' He said as he continued eating.

Akelia grumbled and lay down with a big huff. Loki just chuckled as he picked up another slice. But suddenly she sat up, ears pricked as she stared over towards the window at the other side of Loki.

'What is it?' His head whipped around to look.

With him distracted, she snatched the slice of pizza right out from his hand and gobbled it up quickly. Leaving Loki looking flabbergasted. When she eyed up the rest of his pizza, he quickly turned away with his arm across it.

‘Mine!’ He grumbled.

But in the end, he couldn’t resist her pleading puppy eyes, so begrudgingly gave her half of it. He was also rather proud that she had managed to trick the trickster.

One day Loki and Akelia were wandering through the woods, Loki was collecting sticks for the fire. Akelia was just on lookout, listening for any animals she could kill to take back.

Loki noticed her pause and her ears were twitching when she heard something. But it wasn’t her usual reaction when she heard an animal. He crouched down to hide amongst the bushes as she crouched down, too.

But then she started to stalk whatever it was she could hear, keeping herself low to the ground. Loki followed behind, listening too. But even his hearing was nowhere near as good as Akelia’s.

They came near the path that led to the cottage and Akelia got into position, ready to pounce. Heavy footsteps were coming down the path, and when they were within reach, she pounced.

‘AHHHHHHH!’

Loki stood up from the bushes and groaned. He knew that voice anywhere. When he moved into the clearing of the path, he was faced with the scene of Akelia hanging off Thor’s forearm as he swung around trying to get her off. But she was a strong wolf.

Loki just folded his arms over his chest and chuckled.

When Thor raised Mjolnir with his other hand, to use against the wolf, Loki called out. ‘Don’t you dare hurt her, Thor.’ He snarled and shot a blast of ice to freeze his hand.

‘GET IT OFF ME!’ Thor shouted desperately at Loki.

While his skin was tougher than humans, her teeth was still managing to pierce him and cause a decent amount of pain.

Loki sighed and rolled his eyes. ‘Akelia, as much as I would love to allow you to tear him to pieces, you best let him go. Or we will both be in trouble.’

Akelia snarled and dug her teeth in as hard as she could before releasing. She could sense tension between them and it was obvious Loki wasn’t pleased that this person was here.

Even when she let go, she kept snarling and prowling around Thor, not taking her eyes off him.

‘Bloody hel, Loki. Since when did you get a guard dog?’ Thor grumbled, holding his sore arm once the ice melted from his hand.

Akelia snapped towards him, but Loki called her off again.

‘She doesn’t like being called a dog, Thor.’ Loki glared at him, then spun around on his heels and walked off down the path. ‘Come on, Akelia. He’s not worth anymore of our time.’

Akelia snarled once more at Thor, then reluctantly turned her back on him and followed Loki.

Thor looked at the wolf and frowned. Since when did Midgard have wolves that size and of that intelligence?

‘Wait, brother. I’ve come to speak to you!’ Thor called and ran after him.

Loki and Akelia reached the clearing of the cottage before Thor caught up with them. He reached out to grab Loki, but Akelia snapped at Thor, getting him away from Loki, she then put herself in the middle. Ready to attack Thor if he took another step.

Thor had never seen Loki look so smug before. And that was saying something.

‘Loki. Please, call her off. I just wish to talk.’ Thor said, looking at Loki. He tried to ignore the savage looking beast between them.

‘She’s not going anywhere. So talk.’ Loki snapped.

Thor sighed. Keeping a close eye on the wolf, he tried to just speak to Loki. ‘Mother wants you to return home. So do I.’

‘So?’ Loki shrugged.

‘We are trying to convince father that you’ve changed, that it’s a good idea for you to come home. I think in time he will come around to the idea and allow it.’

‘Well why don’t you let me know when he does, then I might consider it. Purely so I can burn the place to the ground.’ Loki growled, his eyes darkening slightly.

Thor’s jaw clenched. ‘Loki.’ He warned, knowing that Heimdall would be watching and reporting back to Odin. This would not be working in Loki’s favour.

‘What? Do you expect me to want to come skipping home and pretend to play happy families again like nothing ever happened?’ Loki started pacing back and fore.

When Thor tried to move towards him, just to get nearer, Akelia stepped on front of him, growling. Thor put his hands up in defence and took a step backwards.

‘I know things won’t be how they used to, but we can try and start again, Loki. I just want my brother back.’ Thor pleaded.

‘You lost him a long time ago.’ Loki hissed. He looked at his wolf. ‘Escort him away from here, please Akelia.’

Akelia started snapping and snarling again towards Thor, backing him right up to the treeline. Thor gave up and swung Mjolnir, using it to fly off through the trees. Akelia ran after him for a short while, making sure he was gone.

When she returned to the cottage and went inside, she found Loki sitting on his chair, leaning forward on his knees. He was so angry, but she could also see sadness on his face, too.

Loki took a few deep breaths to try and calm himself. Akelia walked over to him and sat down right by his feet. To his surprise, she nudged at his hand and lay her chin on his thigh.

He was stunned, but felt warmed. He took a chance and gently stroked her head, instantly feeling a million times better, especially when she didn’t pull away or growl at him.

‘Thank you, Akelia.’ He smiled.

#Loki #Tom Hiddleston #fan fiction #predator to prey

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fourteenaway · 3 years

Text

Little Lion Man | The Story of Cary / Part III

tw: rape, infidelity, pregnancy, stepcest

Exactly at seven-thirty that night, the door chimes sounded, punched by an impatient finger, forcing Caren to hurry lest the man waken Cary who hadn't liked being put to bed at such an early hour.

If she had taken pains to look her best, so had Harry. He strode in as if he already owned the place and her. He left behind a drift of shaving lotion with a piney forest scent, and every hair on his head was carefully in place, making her wonder if he had a thinning spot. She figured she’d find out for herself sooner or later.

She took his coat and hung it in the hall closet, then sashayed over to the bar where she busied herself as he sat down before the log fire she had burning nothing had been overlooked; She even had soft music playing.

By this time Caren knew enough about men and the ways of pleasing them best. There wasn't a man alive who wasn't charmed by a lovely woman bustling about, eager to wait on him, pamper and wine and dine him, if you asked her.

“Name your weakness, Harry."

"Scotch."

"On the rocks?"

"Neat."

He watched her every movement, which was deliberately graceful and deft. Then, turning her back she mixed a fruity drink for myself, lacing it lightly with vodka. And with her two little stemmed goblets on a silver tray, Caren seductively ambled his way, leaning to give him an enticing view of her braless bosom. She sat across from him and swung one leg over the other to allow the long slit of her rose-colored dress to open and expose one leg from silver sandal midway to the hip. He couldn't take his eyes off it.

"Sorry about the glasses,” Caren said smoothly, well pleased with his expression, "I don't have room in this cottage to unpack everything I own. Most of my crystal is in storage and I have here only wine glasses and water goblets."

"Scotch is scotch no matter how it's served. And what in the world is that thing you're sipping?" By this time he'd shifted his gaze to the low V of her gown.

"Well, you take orange juice freshly squeezed, a dab of lemon juice a dash of vodka, bit of coconut oil, and drop in a cherry to dive after. I call it A Maiden's Delight."

After a few minutes of conversation, they drifted to the dining table, not so far from the fireplace, to eat by candlelight. Every so often he'd drop his fork, or spoon, or she would, and both of them would go for it, then laugh to see who was fastest. Caren was, every time. He was much too distracted to spot a missing fork or spoon when a neckline opened up so obligingly.

"This is delicious chicken," he said after demolishing five hours of hard labor in about ten minutes. "Usually I don't like chicken-where'd you learn to prepare this dish?"

Caren told him the truth, “A Russian dancer taught me, she was on tour over here, and we liked each other. She and her husband stayed with Leeland and me, and we'd cook together whenever we weren't dancing or shopping or touring. It took four chickens to feed four people. Now you know the nasty truth about dancers; when it comes to eating we are not in the least dainty. That is, after a performance. Before we go on we have to eat very lightly."

He smiled and leaned across the small drop-leaf table. Candlelight was in his eyes, sparkling them devilishly.

"Caren, tell me honestly why you came to live in this hick town and why you've got your heart set on me for a lover."

"You flatter yourself," Caren said in her most aloof manner, thinking she was very successful in appearing cool on the outside while inside she was a web of conflicting emotions. It was almost as if she had stage fright and was in the wings waiting to go on. And this was the most important performance of her life. Then almost magically she felt she was on stage. She didn't have to think of how to act or what to say to charm him and make him forever hers. The script had been written a long time ago when she was hidden and first found out her mother had married him.

"You're not being honest with yourself," Harry said softly, "You know better than anyone where that missing piece is, or I wouldn't be here."

His voice was so low and seductive as he stood and took her into his arms to dance.

Caren put her head on his shoulder as they went on dancing, "You're wrong, Harry, I don't know why you're here. I don't know how to fill my days. When I'm teaching class and when I'm with my son, then I'm alive-but when he's in bed and I'm alone, I don't know what to do with myself. I know Cary needs a father, and when I think of his father I realize I've always managed to do the wrong thing. I've read my reviews that rave about the potential I had... but in my personal life I've made only mistakes, so what I accomplished professionally doesn't matter at all."

Caren stopped moving her feet and sniffled, then tried to hide her face, but he tilted it upward, then dried my tears and held his handkerchief so she could blow her nose. Then came the silence. The long, long silence. Their eyes met and clung and her heart started a faster thumping.

"Your problems are all so simple, Caren," he began, "all you need is someone like me, who needs someone like you. If Cary needs a father, then I need a son. See how simply all complicated matters are solved?"

Too simply, she thought, when he had a wife and she was discerning and cynical enough to know he couldn't possibly care for her enough.

“You have a wife you love," Caren said bitterly.

Caren shoved him away. She didn't want to get him too easily, but only after long and difficult struggles against her mother, and she wasn't here to know.

"Men are liars too," he said flatly, with some of the zest gone from his eyes. "I have a wife and occasionally we sleep together, but the fire has gone out. I don't know her. I don't think anyone knows her. She's a bundle of secrets, wound up tight, and she won't let me inside. It's gone on so long I don't care to be let in now. She can keep her secrets and her tears, and eat her way out of her anxieties and whatever it is that makes her wake up in the night and go and look in that damned blue album! Now she's overweight and she's written she's just had plastic surgery, a face lift, and I won't know her when she comes back. As if I ever really knew her!"

Caren panicked inside, he had to care! How could she break up a marriage that was already coming apart? She needed to feel she'd accomplished this against overwhelming odds!

“Go home!" Caren said, pushing at him. "Get out of my house! I don't know you well enough to even listen to your problems, and I don't believe you. I don't trust you!"

He laughed, mocking her, aroused by her puny efforts to push him away. His libido was fired and it flamed in his eyes as he grabbed her upper arms and drew her hard against him.

“Now you come off it! Look at the way you're dressed. You had me come here for a reason. So here I am, ready to be seduced. You seduced me the first time I saw you, and for the life of me it seems I've known you much longer than I actually have. Nobody plays games with me, then calls it a draw. You win or I win, but if we go to bed together we might wake up in the morning and find out we've both won."

Red lights flashed, Stop! Resist! Fight! Caren did none of those things. Caren beat on his chest with ineffectual small fists as he laughed and picked her up and threw her over his shoulder.

With one hand he gripped both of her legs to keep them from kicking, and with the other he turned out the lamps. In the dark, with her still beating on his back, he carried her into her bedroom and threw her down on the comforter. She scrambled to get up, but he came at her fast!

There wasn't a chance to use the knee she had ready. He sensed her dancer's ability could defeat him so he lunged, caught her about the waist so they both tumbled to the floor! Caren opened her mouth to scream, but he clamped his hand upon her open lips, then pinioned her arms with his iron strength and sat on the legs that tried to kick herself free.

“Caren, my lovely seductress, you went to such a lot of trouble. You seduced me long ago, ballerina. Until the week before Christmas you are mine, and then my wife will be home-and I won't need you."

His hand eased away from her lips and she thought she would scream, but instead she bit out, “At least I didn't have to buy you with my father's millions!"

That did it. He crushed his lips brutally hard down on hers before she realized what was happening. This wasn't the way she wanted it! Caren wanted to tempt him, set him on fire, make him chase her, and give in only after a long and arduous pursuit that her mother could watch and suffer through, knowing she could do nothing or she'd talk. And yet he was taking her heartlessly, more ruthless than Leeland at his worst!

Savagely he bore down on her. He squirmed and writhed to grind in, even as his hands ripped and tore off her clinging rose dress. All she had on then was pantyhose, and soon he had those pulled down so her silver slippers came off and stayed inside of them.

With his lips still crushed brutally hard on hers, he carried her resisting hand to his zipper and squeezed until her knuckles cracked. It was either tug it down or have her fingers broken! How he managed to wiggle out of his clothes, even as he held her naked beneath him, she’d never know.

When he was naked, but for his socks, she kept on wiggling, writhing, squirming, butting and trying to scratch or bite while he kissed, fondled and explored. Caren had her chance to scream several times—but she too was breathing fast and hard, and jerking upward to force him off. But he took this as a welcoming arch of invitation. He entered, and had his too quick satisfaction, then pulled out before she had any.

"Get out of here." Caren screamed. “I'm calling the police! I'll have you thrown in jail, charged with assault and rape!"

He laughed scornfully, chucked her under the chin playfully, then stood up to pull on his clothes.

“Oh," he said, mocking her with an imitation of her own voice, “I am so frightened.” Then his voice was deeply earnest.“You aren't happy, are you? It didn't work out the way you planned it, but don't you worry, tomorrow night I'll be back, and maybe then you can please me enough, so I'll feel like taking the time to please you."

"I've got a gun!" She declared thought she didn't, “And if you dare set foot in this house again you're a dead man! Not that you are a man. You are more brute than human!"

“My wife often says the same thing," he said casually, zipping up his trousers shamelessly, without the decency to even turn his back. “But she likes it just the same, just as you did. Beef Wellington, you can have that tomorrow night, plus a tossed salad and a chocolate mousse for dessert. If you make me fat, we can burn off the calories in the most pleasant way possible,and I don't mean jogging."

He grinned, saluted her, put one foot behind the other to turn in a smartly, military fashion, then paused at the doorway as Caren sat up and clutched the remnants of her gown to her breasts.

“Same time tomorrow night, and I'll stay the night-that is, if you treat me right."

He left, and slammed the front door behind him.

Caren began to cry, not from pity for herself. It was frustration so huge she could have torn him limb from limb!

She’d lace the beef wellington with arsenic.

A small timid sound came from outside her door then.

“Mommy... I'm scared. Are you cryin', Mommy?" Came Cary’s soft voice.

Hastily she pulled on a robe and called him in, then held him close in her arms. “Darling, darling, Mommy is all right. You had a bad dream. Mommy isn't crying... see?"

Cary peered into her face worriedly, he heard too much, not that he understood it all. Cowering in his bed scared, before he finally got up and got to his mother’s door.

Caren brushed away the tears, for she'd get even.

Three dozen red roses arrived while Cary and she were eating breakfast, he long-stemmed variety from the florist.

A small white card read: I'm sending you a big bouquet of roses, One for every night you'll have my heart.

No name. And what the devil was she supposed to do with three dozen roses in a matchbox house? She couldn't send them to a children's ward; the hospital was miles and miles away.

Cary decided what to do with them, "Oh, Mommy, how pretty! Uncle William's roses!"

For Cary she kept the roses instead of throwing them out, and in many vases she scattered them throughout the house.

He was delighted, and when she took him with her to dancing school he told all the students, roses were all over his home-even in the bathroom.

After lunch Caren drove Cary to the nursery school he so loved. It was a Montessori school that was inspiring him to want to learn by appealing to his senses.

Already he could print his name, and he was only three! He was like Daniel, Caren told herself, brilliant, handsome, talented, oh, her Cary had everything—but a father.

From his bright blue eyes shone the quick intelligence of someone who would have a lifetime curiosity about everything.

“Cary, I love you."

"I know that, Mommy. I love you too," he said before he waved good-bye as she drove off.

Caren was there to meet him when he came from his school, his small face flushed and troubled.

"Mommy," he said as soon as he was beside her in the car, "Victor Harding, he said his mommy slapped him when he touched her there."

And he shyly pointed at her breast, “You don't slap me when I touch you there,” Cary whispered.

"But you don't touch me there, not since you were a little baby and Mommy nursed you for a short while."

"Did you slap me then?" He asked, looking so worried.

"No, of course not. Babies are meant to suckle their mother's breasts, and I would never slap you for touching there, so if you want to try me, go ahead and touch,” Caren said.

Cary lifted his small hand and reached out tentatively while he watched his mother’s face to see if she'd be shocked.

Oh, how fast the young learned all the taboos, Caren thought.

And when he'd touched and God's lightning hadn't struck him down, he smiled, very relieved.

"Oh, it's just a soft place," he laughed at the pleasant discovery he made before he threw his arms his mothers neck, “I love you, Mommy. Cause you love me even when I'm bad."

"I'll always love you, Cary. And if you're bad sometimes, I'll try and understand."

Yes, she was not going to be like her mother. She was going to be the perfect mother, and someday he'd have a father too.

How was it that little children, such young ones, would already be talking of sin and being slapped for only touching?

Caren stopped to buy stamps before she reached home, and left Cary dozing on the front seat.

Harry was in the post office, which was no larger than her living room, buying stamps too.

Charmingly he smiled at her, as if nothing untoward had happened between them the night before.

He even had the nerve to follow her to her car so he could ask how she liked the roses.

"Not your kind of roses," she snapped, then got primly into her car and slammed the door in his face. She left him staring after her without a smile-in fact, he looked rather miserable.

At five-thirty a special-delivery man brought a small package to her front door. It was certified so she had to sign for it. Inside a larger box was another box, and inside of that was a velvet jewelry case which she quickly opened while Cary watched, all eyes. On black velvet lay a single rose composed of many diamonds. Also a card with a note that read, ‘Perhaps this kind of rose is more to your liking.’ She put the thing away as a trifle bought with her mother’s money, so it wasn't really from him, no more than the real roses.

He had the nerve to come that night at seven-thirty just as he'd said he would. Nevertheless, she readily let him in, then led him silently to the dining table with no to do about cocktails or other niceties. The table was set even more elaborately than the night before. She'd hauled out some boxes and done some unpacking, and on the table were her best lace mats and covered silver serving dishes.

Neither of them had as yet spoken. All his forgive-me roses she'd gathered together and they were in the box near his plate. On his empty plate was the jeweler's velvet container with the diamond rose brooch inside. She sat to watch his expression as he put the jewelry box aside casually, and just as casually moved the flower box out of his way.

He reached for the domed silver lid, ostensibly hiding the Beef Wellington underneath. His gaze lowered to stare at the huge platter that held one hot dog and a small dab of cold canned beans.

The disbelief in his eyes, his utter offended shock gave her so much satisfaction she almost liked him.

"You are now gazing upon Cary's favorite menu," she said, gloating. “It is exactly what he and I ate tonight for dinner, and since it was good enough for us, I thought it was good enough for you, so I saved some. Since I've already eaten, all of that is yours alone, and you may help yourself."

Scowling, he flashed her a burning, hard look, then savagely bit down into the hot dog which she’d sure had grown cold as the beans. But he gobbled down everything and drank his glass of milk, and for dessert she handed him a box of animal crackers.

First he stared at the box in another expression of dumbfounded amazement, then ripped it open, seized up a lion and snapped off the head in one bite.

"I take it you are one of those despicable liberated women who refuses to do anything to please a man!"

"Wrong. I am liberated only with some men. Others I can worship, adore and wait on happily.”

"You made me do what I did!” he objected strongly. “Do you think I planned it that way? I wanted us to find our relationship on an equal basis. Why did you wear that kind of dress?"

"It's the kind all chauvinist men prefer!"

"I am not a chauvinist, and I hate that kind of dress!"

"You like what I've got on better?” Caren sat up straighter to give him a better view of the old nappy sweater she had on. With it she wore faded blue jeans, with dirty sneakers on her feet, and her hair was skinned back and fastened in a granny's knot. Deliberately she'd pulled long strands free so they hung loose about her face, slovenly fringes to make her look more appealing. And no makeup prettied her face.

He was dressed to kill.

"At least you look honest and ready to let me do the pursuing. If there is one thing I despise, it's women who come on strong, like you did last night. I expected better from you than that kind of sleazy dress that showed everything to take the thrill from discovering for myself.”

He knitted his brows and mumbled, “From a damned harlot's red dress to blue jeans. In the course of one day, she changes into a teenybopper."

"It was rose-colored, not red! And besides, Harry, strong men like you always adore weak and passive stupid women, because basically you're meek yourself and afraid of an aggressive woman!"

"I am not weak or meek or anything but a man who likes to feel a man, not to be used for your own purposes. And as for passive women I despise them as much as I do aggressive ones. I just don't like the feeling of being the victim of a huntress leading me into a trap. What the hell are you trying to do to me? Why dislike me so much? I sent you rose and diamonds, and you can't even comb your hair and take the shine from your nose."

"You are looking at the natural me, and now that you've seen, you can leave."

Caren got up and walked to the front door and swung it open. “We are wrong for each other. Go back to your wife. She can have you, for I don't want you."

He came quickly, as if to obey, then seized her in his arms and kicked the door closed. “I love you, God knows why I do, but it seems I've always loved you."

Caren stared up in his face, disbelieving him, even as he took the pins from her hair and let it spill down. Out of long habit she tossed it about so it fluffed out and arranged itself, and smiling a little he tilted her face to his.

“May I kiss your natural lips? They are very beautiful lips."

Without waiting for permission he brushed his lips gently over hers.

Why didn't all men know that was the right way to start? She wondered. What woman wanted to be eaten alive, choked by a thrusting tongue? Not her, she wanted to be played like a violin, strummed pianissimo, in largo timing, fingered into legato, and let it grow into crescendo.

Deliciously she wanted to head toward the ecstatic heights that could only happen for her when the right words were spoken and the right kind of kisses, given before his hands came into play.

If he'd done for her only a little last night, this night he used all the skills he had. This time he took her to the stars where they both exploded, still holding tight to each other, and doomed to do it again, and then again.

He was hairy all over. Leeland had been hairless but for one thatch that grew in a thin line up to his navel.

She turned off her mind, and gave in to her senses and to this man who was now treating her like a lover.

But he didn't love her, she knew that. Harry was using her as a substitute for his wife, and when she came back she'd never see him again. She knew it, but still she took and she gave until they fell asleep in each other's arms.

When she slept, she dreamed. Leeland was in the silver music box her father had given her when she was six. Round and round he spun, his face ever turning toward her, accusing her with his jet eyes, and then he grew a mustache and was William, who only looked sad.

She ran fast to set him free from death in a music box when it turned into a coffin-and then it was Daniel inside, his eyes closed, his hands folded one over the other on his chest. Dead, dead.

‘DANIEL’, she shouted.

She awoke to find Harry gone and her pillow wet with tears.

Why did her mother start this, perhaps had she not, maybe she would have found Daniel right away, and before anyone else. She would have fallen in love with him with no revenge to carry out or repayments to deliver. But then she wouldn’t have Cary. But perhaps she still would have found Leeland and maybe he would have been what she wanted had she not had so many other priorities and he would have been good to her too.

Holding tight to her son's small hand she led him out into the cold morning air on her way to work.

Faint and far away she heard someone calling her name, and with it came the scent of an ocean breeze.

‘Why don't you come, Daniel, and save me from myself? Why only call in your thoughts?’ She thought.

Part one was done. Part two would begin when her mother knew she had Harry's child.

Harry and her didn't have to sneak around furtively to meet.

The houses where he lived were far apart and no one could see them when he came to her through the back door that opened out into a yard with a fence. In back of that was a country lane, shrubbed, and made private by many trees. Sometimes they met in a distant town and their lovemaking in a motel room was wild, sweet, tender, erotic and altogether satisfying, and yet she froze when he told her at lunch, “She called this morning, Caren. She'll be home before Christmas."

"That's nice," Caren said and went right on eating her salad and anticipating the Beef Wellington that would show up soon.

He frowned and his fork loaded with salad hesitated on the way to his mouth. “It means we won't be able to see as much of each other. Aren't you sorry?"

"We'll find ways."

"If you aren't the damndest woman!"

"Don't get so worked up over nothing. All women are monsters to men, and maybe to ourselves. We are our own worst enemies. You don't have to divorce her and give up your chance to inherit her fortune. Though she could outlive you and have the chance to buy another younger husband."

"Sometimes you are just as bitchy as she is! She did not buy me! I loved her! She loved me! I was crazy about her, as crazy for her as I am for you now. But she changed. When I met her she was sweet, charming, everything I wanted in a woman and wife, but she changed."

He stabbed the salad fork toward his mouth and chewed viciously, “She's always been a mystery-like you."

“Harry, my love," she said, “very soon all mystery walls will crumble."

He went on, as if she hadn't interrupted, “That father of hers, he too was a mystery; you'd look at him and see a fine old gentleman, but underneath was a heart of steel. I thought I was his only attorney, but he had six others, each of us assigned to different tasks. Mine was to make out his wills. He changed them dozens of times, putting this family member in, and writing another out, and adding codicils like a mad man, though he was sane enough right up until the very end. The last codicil was the worst."

Of course, no children for him, ever, she knew.

"Then you really were a practicing lawyer?" Caren asked.

He smiled bitterly, then answered, “Of course I was. And now I am again. A man needs something meaningful to do. How many times can anyone tour Europe before boredom sets in? You see the same old faces, doing the same old things, laughing at the same jokes. The Beautiful People what a laugh! Too much money buys everything but health, so they have no dreams left to purchase, and no aspirations, so in the end they are only bored."

"Why don't you divorce her and do something meaningful with your life?"

"She loves me.” That's the way he said it. Short. Sweet. He stayed because she loved him, forcing Caren to say, "You told me when we first met that you loved her, and then you say you don't which is it?"

He thought about it for a long time.

"Honestly, ballerina, I'm ambivalent and resentful. I love her, I hate her. I thought she was what you seem to be now. So please, smother that bitchy side that reminds me of her and don't try and do to me what she did. You are putting a wall between us because you know something I don't. I don't fall in love easily, and I wish I didn't love you."

He seemed suddenly a small boy, wistful, as if his pet dog might betray him and life would never be good again.

Caren was touched and dared to say, “Harry, I swear there will come a day when you know all my secrets and all of hers, but until that time comes say you love me, even if you don't mean it, for I can't enjoy being with you if I don't feel you love me just a little."

"A little? It seems I've loved you all my life. Even when I kissed you the first time it seemed I'd kissed you before, why is that?"

“Karma," she replied and smiled at his baffled expression.

Harry spent more time at her small home than at his huge one. He piled her with as many gifts, as he did Cary.

He ate his breakfast, lunch and dinner with them on the days he didn't spend in his office, which she privately believed was more a facade for appearing useful than a functioning law office.

Her dancing school suffered from his attention, but it didn't matter. She was now a kept woman. Paid to be his mistress.

And Cary was delighted with the little leather boots Harry gave him.

“Are you my daddy?" asked Cary, who would be four in February, "No. but I sure wish I was and I could be,” Harry answered.

It was only second before Cary was out in the yard, tromping around and staring down at his feet that fascinated him now that they wore cowboy boots.

Caren and Harry lay entwined after their lovemaking, listening to the wind blending with Cary's shrill laughter, racing after the poodle, Rainbow, that Harry had given him.

A few snow flurries were beginning to fall. She knew she had to get up soon so Cary wouldn't run in and catch them, just to tell them it was snowing.

He couldn't remember other snows, and barely would the ground be sugar-coated than he'd want to make a snowman. Sighing first, she kissed Harry, then reluctantly pulled from his embrace. She turned her back to pull on bikini panties as he propped up on an elbow and watched.

"You've got a lovely behind," he said. She said thanks, "What about my front?" He said it wasn't bad and she threw a shoe at him.

"Caren, why don't you say you love me?"

Caren whirled about, startled. "Have you ever said it to me and meant it?" She asked as she snapped on a bra.

"How do you know I don't mean it?" he asked with anger.

"Let me tell you how I know. When you love, you want that person with you all of the time. When you avoid the subject of divorce, that alone is an indication of how much you care for me and just where I belong in your life."

“Caren, you've been hurt, haven't you? I don't want to hurt you more. You play games with me. I've always known that. What does it matter if it is only sex and not love? And tell me how to know where one ends and the other begins?"

His teasing words were a knife in her heart, for somehow, without meaning to let it happen, she'd fallen madly, idiotically in love with him.

According to Harry's enthusiastic report, his long gone wife came home from her rejuvenation trip looking smashingly young and beautiful.

“She's lost twenty pounds. I swear, that face lift has done wonders! She looks sensational, and damn it, so unbelievably like you!"

It was easy to see how impressed he was with his new, younger-looking wife, and if he was only trying to take the wind from her too confident sails, Caren didn't let it show.

Then he was telling her she was just as necessary to him as before in a tone that said she was not.

“Caren, while she was in Texas she changed. She's like she used to be, the sweet, loving woman I married."

Men! How gullible they were! Of course her mother was sweeter and nicer to him now that she knew he had a mistress who was very accessible, and that the other woman was her own daughter. She'd have to know, for it was whispered all about how much Harry’s mistress looked like a younger version of his wife.

"So, why are you here with me when your wife is back and so like me? Why don't you put your clothes on and say goodbye and never come back? Say it was sweet while it lasted, but it's all over now, and I'll say thank you for a wonderful time before I kiss you farewell."

"Well," he drawled, pulling her hard against his naked body, “I didn't say she was that sensational looking. And then again, there is something special about you. I can't name it. I can't understand it. But I don't know if I can live without you now."

He said it seriously, truth in his dark eyes.

So she'd won.

Quite by accident her mother and her met in the post office one day. She saw her and shivered. Her lovely head lifted higher as she turned it slightly away, pretending she didn't know her.

She would deny her as she'd denied Cassidy, even though it was so obvious that they were mother and daughter and not strangers.

But Caren wasn't Cassidy. So she treated her as she treated her, indifferently, as if she were nobody special and never would be again.

Yet, as she waited impatiently for her roll of stamps, she saw her mother dart her eyes to follow the restless prowl of her young son who had to stare at everything and everyone.

He was a handsome, graceful, and charming boy who drew the eyes of everyone, who had to stop and admire him and pat his head.

Cary moved with innate style, unstudied and relaxed, at ease wherever he was, because he thought the whole world was his, and he was loved by everyone.

He turned to catch her mother's long stare and he smiled.

"Hello," he greeted. “You're pretty-like my mommy,” he told her.

Oh, the things children say! What innocent knowledge they had to see so readily what others instinctively refused to acknowledge.

He stepped closer to reach out and tentatively touch her fur coat. “My mommy's got a fur coat. My mommy is a dancer. Do you dance?"

She sighed, and Caren held her breath and thought, ‘See, Momma, there is the grandson your arms will never hold. You'll never hear him say your name. Never!’

"No," she whispered, “I'm not a dancer,” and tears filmed her eyes.

"My mommy can teach you how,” Cary smiled.

"I'm too old to learn," she whispered, backing off.

"No, you're not," said Cary, reaching for her hand as if he'd show her the way, but she pulled back and glanced at Caren reddened, then fumbled in her purse for a handkerchief.

Cary frowned slightly and went on unperturbed, “Do you have a little boy I can play with?" He questioned concerned to see her tears, as if having a son would make up for not knowing how to dance.

"No," she said in a quivering weak whisper, “I don't have any children.”

That's when Caren moved in to say in a cold, harsh voice, "Some women don't deserve to have children."

She paid for her roll of stamps and dropped them in her purse, “Some women like you, Mrs. Walters, would rather have money than the bother of children who might get in the way of good times. Time itself will sooner or later let you know if you made the right decision."

She turned her back and shivered again as if all her furs couldn't keep her warm enough. Then she strode from the post office and headed toward a chauffeur-driven, black limousine.

Like a queen she rode off, head held high, leaving Cary to ask, “Mommy, why don't you like that pretty lady? I like her a lot. She's like you, only not so pretty."

Caren didn't comment, though it was on the tip of her tongue to say something so ugly he would never forget it.

In the twilight of that evening Caren sat near the windows, staring toward her mothers house and wondering what Harry and her mother were doing. Her hands were on her abdomen which was still flat, but soon it would be swelling with the child that might be started.

One missed period didn't prove anything except she wanted Harry's baby, and little things made her feel sure there was a baby.

She let depression come and take her though. He wouldn't leave her and her money to marry her and she'd have another fatherless child.

What a fool to start all of this, but she'd always been a fool.

And then she saw a man slipping through the woods, coming to her, and she laughed, made confident again.

He loved her! He did and as soon as she knew for certain, she would tell him he was to be a father.

“Caren, you told me there was no need for precautions!"

"There was no need. I want your baby.”

"You want my baby? What the hell do you think I can do, marry you?"

"No. I did my own assuming. I presumed you'd have your fun with me and when it was over you'd go back to your wife and find yourself another playmate. And I'd have just what I set out to get, your baby. Now I can leave. So kiss me off, Harry, as just another of your little extramarital dalliances."

He looked furious. They were in my living room, while a fierce blizzard raged outside. Snow heaped in mounds window-high, and she was before the fireplace, knitting a baby bunting before she began a bootie. She was getting ready to slip a stitch then knit two together when Harry seized her knitting from my hands and hurled it away.

“It's unraveling!” Caren cried in dismay.

"What the hell are you trying to do to me, Caren? You know I can't marry you! I never lied and said I would. You're playing a game with me."

He choked and covered his face with his hands, then took them down and pleaded, "I love you. God help me but I do. I want you near me always, and I want my child too. What kind of game are you playing now?"

“Just a woman's game. The only game she can play and be sure of winning."

“Look," he said, trying to regain his control of the situation, “explain what you mean, don't double talk. Nothing has to change because my wife is back. You'll always have a place in my life/"

"In your life? Don't you mean more correctly, on the fringes of your life?"

For the first time she heard humility in his voice, "Caren, be reasonable. I love you, and I love my wife too. Sometimes I can't separate you from her. She came back different, as I told you, and now she is like she was when we first met. Maybe a more youthful figure and face has given her back some confidence she lost, and because of it she can be sweeter. Whatever the cause. I'm grateful. Even when I disliked her, I loved her. When she was hateful, I'd try and strike back by going to other women, but still I loved her. The one big issue we fight over is her unwillingness to have a child, even an adopted one. Of course she's too old to have one now. Please, Caren, stay! Don't leave! Don't take my child away so I will never know what happens to him, or to her...or to you."

Caren laid it out flat, “All right, I will stay on one condition. If you divorce her and marry me, only then will you have the child you always wanted. Otherwise, I'm taking myself, and that means your child too, far away. Maybe I'll write to let you know if you have a son or a daughter, and maybe I won't. Either way, once I leave, you are out of my life for good.”

Before the fireplace he stood with his arm up on the mantel, then he rested his forehead on that and stared down at the fire. His free hand was behind his back and clenched into a fist. His confused thoughts were so deep they reached out and touched Caren with pity. He turned then to face her, staring deep into her eyes.

“My God," he said, shocked by his discovery. "You planned this all along, didn't you? You came here to accomplish what you have, but why? Why should you choose me to hurt? What have I ever done to you, Caren, but love you? True, it started with sex, and sex only was what I wanted it to stay. But it has grown into something much more than that. I like being with you, just sitting and talking, or walking in the woods. I feel comfortable with you. I like the way you wait on me, and touch my cheek when you pass, and rumple my hair and kiss my neck, and the sweet, shy way you wake up and smile when you see me beside you. I like the clever games you play, keeping me always guessing, and always amused. I feel I have ten women in one, so now I feel I can't live without you. But I can't abandon my wife and marry you. She needs me!"

"You should have been an actor, Harry. Your words move me to tears."

"Damn you for taking this so lightly!” He bellowed. "You've got me on a rack and you're twisting the screws! Don't make me hate you and ruin the best months of my life!

With that he stormed out of her home, and she was left alone, ruefully regretting that she always talked too much, for she would stay as long as he needed her.

#i hope harry walters sr burns in a fire....oh wait...HHAHAHHAHAH #you should have been an actor harry - son is an actor #cary: musing #harry: musing #caren: musing #cary: story

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imagine-loki · 4 years

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Predator to Prey, Chapter 5

TITLE: Predator to Prey CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 5 AUTHOR: fanficshiddles ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki lives in exile on Midgard in a forest, he can’t leave the boundary. But every night when the sun goes down he turns into his Jotun form until the sun rises again. He meets a wolf one day and befriends her, gains her trust. But the wolf is no ordinary wolf… RATING: M