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abibliophobiaa · 10 months

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Beyond — s.h. x f!reader

Chapter Seven: Better Together

a/n: here’s chapter seven of my purely self-indulgent fun — a little later than i anticipated because i was sick and got a little derailed. modern day!rich!fake husband!steve harrington x afab!reader.

warnings: 18+ minors dni, fingering, and a whole lot of praise. (7k words)

masterlist

——

Life returns to normal after the gala. Or—mostly normal. You wake in the mornings, greet your husband as he sips his coffee, and you…don’t kiss. And it’s not like you don’t want to; in fact, you do. Really, really badly. One time isn’t enough. Suddenly you’re addicted to the taste of him, and yet you’ve only gotten the smallest hint. A tease at what could be.

When you returned to your home after the gala, Charlie greeted you both at the door with a bark and a demand for endless pets and cuddles. You’d curled up on the couch as always, you in your dress and him in his tuxedo, with Charlie sprawled out across both your laps.

Both of you had taken turns looking at one another when you’d thought the other wasn’t paying attention. Would watch Steve’s profile, count the dots on his skin, wonder if he’d lean in if you traced them with your mouth. Wondered what sound he’d make if you ventured further, southward against his neck, and trailed the marks you knew were there as well. And as you’d look down at Charlie, Steve would look at you, watching as though you were far more entertaining than any movie he’d put on.

Later that evening he’d stood by your doorway and thanked you for joining him that afternoon, leaned down and kissed your forehead, and you’d slipped into your bedroom and changed. When you returned, he remained at your bedroom door, mouth opened to speak to say something, anything, and yet no words had come out. Only the sounds of his struggle.

So you stepped forward and curled your arms around his waist. Thanked him for a beautiful night, for dancing with you, for being there for you. And then you’d closed your bedroom door and listened as Steve called Charlie into his bedroom, your own hand reaching over your bed side table to shut the lights off, enveloping the room in darkness.

It carried on like that for days.

Then weeks.

You wondered if Steve regretted it all.

——

Steve hated meetings. The endless meetings. Meetings that kept him away from home, away from comfortability, away from Charlie, away from you.

It’s a reality that crept upon him slowly, and then swiftly all at once. This realization that he’d rather jump and fall with you than never have taken a risk and jumped at all. Found himself willing to do all of that with you. Trusted you enough to be gentle with him, even despite all your teasing, your jabs, your barbs.

But now he wants to make sure you know just what this all means to him. Wants to make sure you don’t go a day without knowing that, even though his life is in a constant state of immediacy and pressure from those around him, you’re important. You’re deserving of feeling loved, appreciated, and valued every day.

“Is there anything I can do for you, Mr. Harrington,” Hailey, his assistant, asks from behind her computer screen.

“Can you have flowers sent to my address?”

There’s a knowing smile on her face as she asks, “For your wife?”

“For my wife,” he says, and though it’s been your title for months now, it makes his mouth run dry, because there’s the deeper meaning of possibly more now.

What exactly that more might be is still to be determined, but more nonetheless.

“Red roses are nice this time of year,” she muses. “Do you want me to have a card written out as well?”

——

Honey,

I’m sorry I’ve been so holed up with work. With the holidays coming up, things are extra chaotic. I know you’ve been really wanting a spa and nail day for yourself, so I made you an appointment for three tomorrow. Before you argue with me, you deserve it. Please. For me?

The card is signed at the bottom with ‘your husband,’ and you nearly crush the card stock to your chest, smiling down at the bouquet of fresh roses you’ve already set on your kitchen table.

Charlie lifts his head, collar jingling as he clambers to his feet and stops near your hip. Dropping down to your knees, you rub at his floppy ears, grin still stretching your lips.

“Charlie Boy, you really do have the best doggy dad.” He licks at your chin, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth as you giggle airily. “We are pretty lucky, aren’t we?”

——

By the time you return from your massage and nail appointment, and the private elevator leading to the penthouse dings, your home already smells wonderful. And the sight that greets you—even better.

Steve’s frantically running around the kitchen, calling out, “Honey, you’re early!”

“What is happening here?” You walk into the kitchen, a little mystified as Steve rushes forward and brushes a kiss along your temple, your hand coming up to rest on his sternum in wide eyed shock. He’s already set up the kitchen table, wine glasses filled with red wine, candles lit, placemats set out and the dishes you got from your bridal shower on display. “Flowers and dinner?”

“It was supposed to be ready by the time you got home. But Charlie was acting up on his walk. I looked into those puppy training classes, but I want to go to one where I can be there with him.” He pauses, laying the towel he has draped over his shoulder onto the countertop, pulling you into your normal hug whenever you come home from quite literally anywhere. “I thought…well, I know I’ve been busy, and we haven’t exactly had a chance to spend much time together. So I figured I’d make us dinner and we could eat it, you know, together.”

You glance up at him through your lashes, noting the hand that comes up behind his neck to rub nervously. “With candles?”

“So I thought it could also—but only if you want it to—be a…date?”

“We’re married,” you point out, wanting to watch him squirm just a little bit more. Because you know what he means.

“We are, yeah. But…I figured after the gala there were some tougher conversations we might need to have. Unless you wanted to pretend it didn’t happen, which in that case I understand—”

He’s silenced by your hand gliding up and across his chest, curling at the nape of his neck, and dragging him flush against you, lips gliding softly over his own. When you pull back, his eyes flutter rapidly, tops of his cheeks staining the same color of the fresh tomatoes he has open in a container on the kitchen counter.

Brow arching, your fingers still around the back of his neck, you ask, “Need further clarification?”

“Maybe?”

He swallows, curling an arm around the small of your back. He noses at your cheek, your skin prickling in anticipation as he slots his lips over yours again. Warm, gentle, inviting. A sigh spills from you as your pocketbook drops to the ground, your other hand joining the one around Steve’s neck, chests closing in tight, hips flush together.

“Steve…you made me dinner,” you muse, smiling as his forehead rests against yours, swaying you back and forth to the music he is playing from a speaker on the countertop.

The backs of his knuckles brush the line of your temple, your cheek. “I’ve made you dinner before.”

“But not like this. With all the wine and candles.”

“Well, I was trying to make a grand gesture.”

“Just like with my little spa day?” Your heart kicks up at that. Threatens to grow wings and fly away. Because he’s gone out of the way to do this. For you—for you.

“Yes,” he admits. “I’m—I haven’t done this in a long time. I had to ask my assistant for some tips, so I hope you’ll go easy on me.”

He’s laughing, but you know Steve. You know he means his words. Know enough about him to tell that when he makes a decision, he commits to it, wants to go above and beyond, and works his hardest at it. So when he says he wanted to make a grand gesture, that he even sought out outside advice, you know he’s sincere.

And you know whatever this is, whatever is brewing between the two of you, is delicate. It needs the space to grow, to be nurtured and tended to, if only so it can bloom into all it’s meant to be. If it’s meant to be.

“Well, you’re doing amazingly,” you tell him, hands sliding down from the back of his neck to rest against his chest.

The rapid thump of his heart beats beneath your fingertips, not wholly unaffected by the newness of touch, of…whatever new shape your marriage is beginning to take on. His fingers slide over the back of yours, brushing over your knuckles, his eyes lingering on your face with an intensity that has your throat running dry.

That is, until Charlie notes your presence and barrels into the kitchen, paws slamming into your hip, demanding a proper hug. There to oblige him, you brush at his floppy ears, your side to Steve’s chest, one of his arms around you, the other also ruffling Charlie’s floppy head, pink puppy tongue lapping over unassuming fingers. Once the little guy is satisfied, you maneuver around Steve and tug your rings free from your finger, quickly washing your hands before sliding them back into place.

Steve watches you intently as you wiggle the stones into place on the digit, admiring them for a moment. “You look beautiful, by the way.”

“If I’d known we were having dinner by candlelight, I’d have worn something a little nicer,” you tell him, waving a hand around your figure, to the pair of dark wash jeans on your thighs and the slouchy knit sweater that hangs a little loosely off of one shoulder. All gifts from your mother-in-law’s business.

He's still wearing his slacks, having had to go to a job site despite it being Saturday and your favorite powdery blue button up he wears. Brings out the greenness in his hazel eyes, a fact you only know because that spill you’d taken on the treadmill some weeks ago now, and the kiss at the gala, where you’d gazed into them long after he kissed you, marveling at the man.

“You look perfect,” he reassures you, gripping your shoulders and leading you into the living room. “Dinner should be ready in about thirty minutes, so you kick your feet up, I already put out your slippers and some of your cozy socks you like. And give me one second and I’ll grab you your glass of water. Oh—and here’s a blanket.”

“Steve.” You laugh as your husband whirls around you like a storm, gathering all the things he mentions as he goes. “Are you sure you don’t need any help?”

“No, no.” He rushes back over with your water and places it in your hand. “You just relax.”

And you’re not about to argue with your husband. Not when he looks like this, hair windswept, facial hair freshly trimmed, forearms on full display because he’s spent the better part of the afternoon preparing a home cooked meal for you. For your date night.

True to his word, your meal is ready a half hour later, his form appearing before you, one hand outstretched for you to take. He helps you to your feet, making room for you at his side, and walks you the distance to your kitchen table. He’s dimmed the lights a bit more, the candle on the table bathing the room in an orange firelight. The man in question slides your chair out and gestures for you to sit despite your protesting, and pushes you in closer to the table once you’ve sat.

He then rushes around to the other side of the table and sits across from you, gesturing to the various things he has strewn about on the table.

Your bowls are already full of fresh spaghetti, sauce just the way you prefer. There are meatballs in one glass container, and cheese in another bowl beside. He’s even made garlic bread, which rests in a little basket you’d received for your bridal shower. Everything smells delicious, makes your mouth water as you lift your wine glass and raise it in the air, waiting for Steve to clink his glass against yours.

“This all looks and smells so amazing, Steve. Seriously.”

Grateful. You’re immensely grateful as the two of you start to dig into your meals, quiet chatter about your days shared over glasses of wine, spaghetti, and delicious garlic bread. He talks about the newest build on a property, and you explain your week of clinicals ahead, and the desire for your Thanksgiving break to finally approach so you can have some real time to simply relax and just be.

“That reminds me,” he begins, sipping his water. “My mom is doing Thanksgiving at her house this year. It’ll be a small event. Just my grandmother and Theobald, Cami and their kids. Unless we wanted to go back to Hawkins? It’s really up to you…I haven’t told my mom our plans.”

“My dad and Caroline are actually going to spend the weekend with my grandmother. I figured we would be doing something with your family, so I told my dad we’d be around for the holidays at some point—if that’s okay.”

“Absolutely,” he says, brushing his fingers over yours where they lay interlaced in the middle of the table. “Splitting the holidays. That was easy enough.”

“We’re getting good at this, Harrington,” you tease.

“That was my next…topic of conversation.” The status of your relationship. The questions as to what this is and isn’t. The decisions of where you go from here.

“Right.” You place your fork down against your bowl, swallowing thickly. “So there was the gala.”

“That happened.” His fingers brush yours again, a comforting sweep. Back and forth, back and forth, like a sweet little metronome. “So I guess the question is…what do we want it to mean? Because I want to start by making it clear to you that I do, uh, have feelings for you.”

Chest tightening, you grip his fingers tighter, feeling the corners of your smile tick upwards. “I have feelings for you too. So…now that we have that out of the way…”

“I want to do more of this. Buying you flowers and going out together alone. On real dates. No business obligations attached. Just spending time with you, getting to know you, exploring this.”

“I’d like that.”

“And I want to do this,” he says, squeezing your fingers. Then, he leans over the top of the table to brush your lips briefly with his mouth. “And that, if you’d like to.”

Your eyes flutter open, chest rising and falling rapidly. “I’m…very open to all of that.”

“We don’t complicate it with more labels.”

“We just let things happen the way they’re meant to.”

Let the pieces fall where they may. Without the pressure of placing any expectation on it. Exploring the parameters of your relationship while legally married, knowing either way at the end of it all you can go your separate ways. It’s a terrifying risk, but you know in your heart it’s worth it to at least try.

“Exactly.”

“Sounds like a deal, Mr. Harrington. We should shake on it.” He holds out his hand between the two of you jokingly, but you’re leaning in once more, breath teasing along his lower lip, and he knows you’re not interested in sealing this deal with a mere handshake. Instead, you seal it with a kiss, resting in the warmth of his skin against your own.

A little breathless when he pulls away, Steve whispers, “Pleasure doing business with you, Mrs. Harrington.”

——

You’re no expert on Steve Harrington. Not by any means, even after the five months you’ve now been married. Since the moment you decide to begin a real relationship, you start to really explore the intricacies of your husband. He’s a morning person, he likes things a certain way, and he can tend to get flustered easily—though he won’t let it show. You can still sense it in the tension in his shoulders, the furrow of his brows, the clench of his jaw. And today, as you sit on your living room couch with Charlie’s head resting on your thigh, and a book on the other, you sense it in the way he walks into your home with a hollow stare.

The way he buries his face in Charlie’s neck as he enters the living room and the puppy knocks him onto the ground. The way his eyes are red rimmed as he finally extricates himself from the flailing set of paws on the ground and makes his way over to where you sit, kissing you in greeting. Your hand slides up to cup his cheek, tilting his head to look at him—to really look at him. His cheeks are damp, and your heart nearly cracks down the center at the implication there.

Briefly, you imagine your husband’s forearms straining as he grips the steering wheel in his car. Imagine the tears he must have hid in his car before coming up to see you. Because he hadn’t wanted you to see. Not really. Always so bright and loving, always so strong for you.

“Steve?” It comes out as a whisper, and he’s turning his head from you, his breath a shaky inhale as he tips his head to the ceiling. “Are you—”

“I’m going to go get ready for bed. Long day, I just want to get to bed early. Rain check on our movie?”

“Y-yeah,” you stutter, frown growing. “Sure.”

He’s gone. Disappears from the room without another word, leaving you in the solitude of the unknowing. The wondering if he’s okay, what he’s thinking, if there’s anything you can do to help improve his mood. With the click of his bedroom door in the distance, you try to focus on your book, on the television playing in the background, on Charlie’s breathing. But the longer you go without him, the more you fret. Wanting to be near him, if only to be there as a presence, as something who cares for the brooding man down the hall.

Resolve settling into place, you toss your things into the kitchen sink and make your way down the hall, gather some clothes to change into for bed, and pause when you arrive in front of Steve’s bedroom. Nervous knuckles hover over the doorway, knocking twice—and then linger. Wait as silence drapes over the room, leaving your heart to race within your chest.

“Steve…?” You call out his name into the silence, voice a little wobbly. Nervousness ebbs and flows as the silence prolongs. As you’re met with nothing but your own breathing to keep you company.

And then, very quietly, “Yeah, baby?”

The newness of the title sends a shiver of pleasure down your spine. You push it away, wanting more so right now to comfort the man inside than anything else. Fingers curl around the door handle, pushing it open just enough to see the man laying there in a pair of sweatpants, room chilly from the central air, bare chest on display. His hair is in disarray, face freshly washed, hair still damp from his shower. There’s the slightest hint of his vanilla shampoo in the air, a comforting sugary sweetness synonymous with your husband.

“Can I…can I come in?” The door opens a little wider, leaving room for Charlie to prance on in, settling himself on the doggy bed in the far corner of the spacious room.

Steve lets out a long sigh, fingers curled around his phone moving to place the device on his bedside table. He slides his glasses off his face next, popping them into his glasses container, before settling back down against the fluffy pillows and offering you the slightest hint of a smile.

“Sure,” he says, a little softly, a little strained.

Heart dropping into your stomach, you glance down at the small heap of clothes in your hand, and then to the adjoined bathroom. “Do you mind if I—”

Processing your question, he shakes his head, seemingly a little faraway from you. “No, yeah. Please.”

Without another word, you slip into the bathroom, shutting the door behind you with a gentle click. A long exhale spills from your lips. Dressing quickly, you take in your reflection in the mirror. Thin sweatpants, a comfortable hoodie, face freshly washed and dried. Satisfied, you toss your clothes into the nearby hamper and slip out of the bathroom, wandering over to the side of the bed. Brows raising imploringly, Steve lifts the edge of the comforter in answer, allowing you to crawl into the space he’s created with his body.

You choose the pillow beside him. Close enough where you can feel his heat, can run your fingers along the side of his body if you wish, could lace your fingers through his. But you’re not crossing the proverbial pillow wall unless he gives permission to do so. As much as you want to.

“Did something happen at work?” you ask him, smiling as his hand reaches over and brushes along the back of your forearm.

“Just the usual. People think I’m…too young to really know what I’m talking about. Anything that goes wrong is thrown at me, and I get those looks of disappointment. And I just think if only my dad were here. If only he were here, I’d know what to do. But I don’t. I don’t and then Theo looks at me like he’s so happy to see me fucking it all up. Because that will have meant he was right.”

“That he was right?” Your head shifts on the pillow, eyes flickering up to his as he angled his head a bit and takes in the sight of your face in the dimly lit bedroom.

Shifting, he rolls over onto his side, head resting on the pillow mere inches from yours. His hands settle beside yours, his fingers brushing along the backs of yours, gently lacing them together after a moment, squeezing tight. “That I’m not ready. That I wasn’t ready. That the company should have gone to him.”

“But that’s not true, Steve. You’re a hard worker. I know you are. You sacrifice so much for everyone, even me, and they have to see all of that. They have to. No one is perfect—not all the time, anyway.” He leans into your touch, your free hand having come up in the middle of your speech to rest over the stubbly cheek of your husband.

“Thank you,” he whispers, turning just enough to press a kiss into the center of your palm. Your skin tingles in answer, smile warming your cheeks.

“Always, Steve. Always. You’re there for me, I’m there for you. It’s an even exchange.”

“You know, Theo hates me because he spent years training under my father. He spent all that time thinking the company would be going to him one day. And…I honestly thought that, too. I was shocked when I saw my name.” He pauses, mouth flattening into a straight line. Your thumb glides over his stubbly cheek once more, encouraging him to continue. “The company should have gone to him. But it didn’t. So I thought maybe my dad saw something in me that I didn’t. But every time I fuck it all up, I can just picture the face he always made when I did something wrong, and I always hated when he looked at me like that.”

“When he looked at you like what?”

“Like I was a disappointment.”

And there it is. The words that immediately wedge a knife into your heart for him. The thought of a younger Steve, wanting his father to see him for him. Not for what he could do for the company, not what he lacked, but merely for being his son. The youngest Harrington. A child to a man who expected so much of him. Placed him on a pedestal he’d never been meant to stand on, only to watch him fail time and time again in the eyes of someone who never would be happy. Not really.

“You are not a disappointment.” The vehemence in your voice shocks you. But the anger brimming in your blood is not for the man lying beside you. No, it’s for the man who no longer resides on this side of earth, and yet has engraved years of doubt within your husband’s heart.

“You’re biased.” He sighs, breaking off into a laugh. At the quick shake of your head, he continues, “It’s silly, maybe, but I thought maybe if I could just do right by the company, my father would finally be proud of me from wherever he is now.”

“Steve…” Your body burrows closer to his, sighing as an arm slides low along your waist. Pulls you closer. Close enough where you can wrap your arms around him and press your cheek into his collarbone.

He exhales deeply. “We never had a close relationship. My parents were a bit older when they had me. His form of love was a stern yell when I got a C in class instead of an A. Or pointing out every bad swing in baseball, because ‘Harrington’s are winners.’ It was only when I got older we talked more, and I think that was more so because once I was old enough to, he expected me to work for him. So I was more a worker than a son.”

“You just wanted him to notice you.” And that breaks your heart. Makes your eyes burn in a way that has you sniffing loudly.

“Silly, right?” His chest shakes with the rasp in his voice, and you grant him the privacy of his emotions, keeping your face pressed tight against his chest as he heaves with the weight of it all.

“Not at all. You shouldn’t have ever had to fight for his love. No child should. You’re his son. That should mean everything. I’m so sorry.”

“My mom and I really only got closer when he passed. I think she realized I’m really all she has left. And I wanted to resent her for it, be mad that it took him dying for her to notice me, you know? But I couldn’t.”

Sighing, you run your hands up and down the lines of his hard back, smiling to yourself when he relaxes further into your embrace. “It’s not a bad thing to want to be loved by the people who should love you the most.” Leaning back a bit to look in his eyes, you catch the softness there. Note the way his eyes flicker from your eyes and downward to your lips, then drift back up again. “We crave it as humans. And you have such a big heart, Steve. I’m not surprised you were able to be open to her, even after all the years of hurt you must have experienced.”

Huffing, he leans his forehead against yours. “You’re being too nice.”

“I am nice, Steve. I’m only partially serious when I joke about killing you in your sleep.”

That has him smiling. And though it’s only been gone a little while, you’ve missed it dearly.

His next question has you stilling within his arms. “Will you…stay?”

“In your bed? With you?”

“No, with your other husband.” He chuckles, shifting you so you sprawl out onto his blankets beneath him, giggling as his nose nudges yours.

“I have another husband?” you ask, just as his lips ever so softly coast over yours, breaking off at the first wiggle of his fingers along the span of your ribcage. Like this, you wriggle and writhe beneath him. Like this, you feel every inch of him along every inch of you. Hard lines against your softer ones. His hips against yours, his lips at your shoulder, your sides jolting with your laughter, limbs kicking out wildly to try and stop him. “Stop, stop—yes! But no pillow wall like in the Maldives.”

He leans down, and you reach up enough to kiss him. “No pillow wall. I might cuddle you, if that’s okay?”

“I'm kind of hoping you do,” you tease, rolling over onto your side as he reaches over and shuts the light, shrouding you both in impenetrable darkness.

Steve settles in beside you. Unlike in the Maldives, he doesn’t begin stacking an endless row of pillows to create a divider. No, this time he comes in close, his chest along your back. Arms looping tight around your waist, pulling you in as close as possible. Legs tangle together beneath bed sheets, fingers twine over where they rest along your midsection.

It’s quiet for a time. And then, “Hey, Steve?”

“Yeah, honey?” He lets you know he’s awake with a kiss at your shoulder.

Giving his hand a quick squeeze, you whisper. “You’re a good man. I’m proud of you, and I know that might not count for much, but I am so proud of you.”

“No. No. That does mean a lot.”

“Goodnight.”

There’s another pause. Then, “Hey, Steve?”

“Yes, darling?”

“Don’t say it like that.”

“I'm tired.” He practically moans it in your ear, face pressing into your neck. Your cheeks warm from the proximity.

“Guess no kiss before bed then.” A pout lines your lips, though you know he cannot see it.

“Fine, fine, fine I’m up.”

“Nope, now I’m tired,” you sigh, nuzzling deeper into the endless pillows on your husband’s bed.

“Get over here.” He grunts, shifting up onto his elbows. There’s barely a moment to argue, for his fingers curl around the base of your cheek and bring your face closer to his.

His mouth is warm, welcoming, and lovely before bed, you decide, eyes fluttering closed.

“Mmm,” you hum, cheeks hurting from how hard you smile as he flops back over onto his side and makes himself comfortable once more.

“Goodnight,” he says, and you can feel his smile against the curve of your jaw.

“Goodnight.”

——

With Thanksgiving about a week away, your husband becomes nearly nonexistent. He’s there, in your home, but only in the early mornings and late at night when you’re already about to fall asleep in his bed.

His bed, because that’s where you've slept for the past however many days have passed since the first time. It’s been this unspoken thing between the two of you. Be it drawing comfort in one another, wanting the nearness of another human, or just purely wanting to be held—you don’t argue.

In fact, you quite like waking up in his arms. Two people who fold themselves so tight around one another in their sleep. Bodies that seek comfort and warmth, crave it, and hold it close.

But that’s truly the only time you’ve seen him as of late. Those fleeting moments when he kisses you while you’re still in bed in the morning, and then at night just as he’s about to shut the light out for the night.

Which is why when you find him sitting in his office before work one morning, his elbows on the desk, head in his hands, you decide to take matters into your own hands to spend time with the man. Upon clearing your throat, his head tips up, eyes catching on the long tee shirt that covers your cotton shorts beneath. The hem line brushes the tops of your thighs with every step closer to him, hinting at skin that lingers beneath, coaxing him backward in his chair. His glasses are a flash of gold in the light as you clamber down onto his lap, resting your hands on his biceps, beaming down at him.

“Hi,” you whisper, biting at your bottom lip.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he murmurs, thumbing at the curve of your hips, pads of his fingers against delicate flesh.

“Been working long?”

“Few hours, yeah,” he grumbles, hooking his chin over your shoulder as you wrap your arms around his waist and press your forehead into his neck. The fingers on your hips slide up your back, trailing up and down gently, eliciting chills along your frame. “Sorry if I woke you.”

His head shifts, mouth teasing at the curve of your throat, lips tilting upward into a smirk at the little sigh that spills out on his own volition from your lips. Curious hands trail down your back, sliding over the curve of your thigh, the hinge of your hip, the soft of your tummy. Another sigh fills the quiet room, and those fingers tease at the edge of your ribcage, the sides of your waist, the curve of your sports bra.

“You’re being sneaky,” he says, breath hot against your ear, fingers spread over the dip of your waist. At your questioning hum, he chuckles, “Distracting me from work.”

“I did nothing of the sort,” you huff out, leaning back in his arms, fingers toying with the hem of his thin sweater he’d fallen asleep in. “I just wanted to spend some time with you before you went to work. Come on now, let me get some coffee for you before you go into the office, Mr. Harrington.”

His eyes roll at your teasing nickname, hand curling around your own as you rise from his lap and lead him out of the office. As you enter the kitchen, Charlie’s sleepy head raises from his paws, before he plops back down in a sleepy heap, legs and paws splayed out in front of him.

Steve remains nearby as you get to work on making your coffees, slipping in and out of the living room just long enough to gather some of the things he’ll need for his work day. Yours iced, caramel drizzled on the inside of the cup in preparation, and Steve’s ‘Dog Dad’ mug laid out on the counter (a gift you’d gotten him as a joke, but he loved it so much he kept it and insisted on using it every morning).

You catch him slipping on a button down shirt out of the corner of your eye, his necktie already hanging limply around his shoulders. Noting his struggle, you wander over to stand in front of him, grappling with the fabric, stilling him in his movements.

His forehead brushes yours, your voice quiet as you say, “You feeling okay? You’re feeling a little warm.”

“Just tired,” he says, thumbing at your bottom lip. “Just a couple more days and then I’ll have some time off.”

“Let me?” you ask, fingers winding in the tie.

He dips his head, watching you with those dark eyes as you maneuver the fabric around, twining this way and that, before pulling it flush against his throat. His neck bobs as you linger there, holding him nearer to you, tugging teasingly. He leans down, breath skittering across your lips as he asks for your permission.

In answering, you tug onto the tie and pull him down to you, your backside thumping against the kitchen counters as he crowds you against them, hands on your hips, gripping tight. Hot. Fervent and heated is his mouth as he claims your lips in the middle of your kitchen, tilting his head to kiss you deeper, tongue gliding across your bottom lip until you part for him with a pretty sigh.

“Fuck,” he rasps, lips and teeth coasting down your cheek, along your neck, against your shoulder as you hop up onto the kitchen counter with his help, ankles curling around his waist to pull him flush against your center. “Baby…I have to…I should…”

But he’s gripping your thigh. Sliding it further open so he can press himself closer, fingers trailing along bare skin, eliciting shivers in their wake. Up and down, up and down, he trails them. Watches your face the whole time, catches the pinch of your bottom lip between your teeth, the whimper you let out as those fingers roam dangerously close to where you ache for him to touch.

“Is this what you want?” he asks. Breathes the words along the hollow of your ear. Presses a kiss below it a moment later as you nod, nearly bucking into his hand as his fingers toy with the hemline of your shorts, then along the cotton panties. “Honey, I need your words. Do you want me to touch you?” Another kiss, this time along the curve of your neck, tongue lathing sensitive skin. Heat burns low in your belly; throbs lower still, where you can already feel yourself embarrassingly wet for the man. “Want my fingers, sweetheart? Is that what you want?”

His eyes are molten as they meet yours. Liquified honey and caramel as you nod, his lips swallowing your moan at the first slide of his fingers through your slick center. “Steve…ah…work,” you pant, eyes halting on the clock staring at you across the way, and then dropping down to the forearm you’re presently clutching tight, watching the muscles there ripple as he circles your clit, testing your reactions, learning what you like. And he’s an expert, and you want to go back in time and erase every other partner who may have come before in a momentary burst of jealousy, before catching on his ringed finger where it lays against your other thigh, holding fast.

“You're gonna be a good girl and come for me then so I’m not late?” he asks, groaning into your open mouth as you tug him closer by his necktie, hips rolling against his fingers as one slips in, before quickly being joined by another. “Fuck. Just like that, baby. Doing so good for me.”

It’s almost obscene, the sounds he draws out of you. The squelch of your slick where he pumps his fingers between your thighs, the harsh staccato of your breath as you inch closer and closer to your tipping point—like he’s been doing this for years. Like he’s known all along exactly what it takes to have you falling apart, crying out his name. And that’s exactly what you do, inner walls clenching down around his fingers as your thighs tremble low around his hips, his left hand curling around the back of your head to claim your mouth as you whimper into his skin, chanting his name like a mantra—like a prayer.

“I hate you.” You don’t. Not when he looks at you the way he is looking at you now. Watching your chest rise and fall, eyes on yours, tongue swirling around his slick digits. “Fuck. So much.”

“I’m sure you do,” he practically sing-songs, sliding your panties back into your place, followed by your shorts. Draws you closer to the edge of your kitchen counters, hands on the swell of your hips. He noses along your cheek, kissing you softly this time. “As much as I want to stay here, and I really really want to stay here, I have a very important meeting this morning.”

“Boo,” you whine, ear resting over his chest where you can hear his heart thrashing wildly behind his sternum.

“I’ll text you,” he promises, dropping a kiss on your lips as you lean your head back and look up at him through your lashes. “Send me pictures of Charlie?”

“I will,” you laugh brightly, watching out of the corner of your eye as your fur child lifts his head at the mere mention of his name. “Although I’m pretty sure you already have about a million of them by now. Are you sure you have to go?”

He kisses your pout, chuckling softly. “Yes. I wish I didn’t have to, but I do. You’re so beautiful.”

A smile grows on your lips as his fingers run along your cheek, eyes on you, marveling. Never before have you felt so singularly the focus on a partner’s mind. The way Steve looks now…with reverence and appreciation that makes your heart soar…there’s nothing like it. You want to bottle it up, stow it away, keep it safe from the rest of the world. Keep it here, within the walls of your home, where it’s only you, him and Charlie. Your little makeshift family, but the one you both chose.

So you allow him to help you down off the countertops and onto the floor below, your still-trembling thighs groaning beneath you as your cheeks burn hot. He drops a final kiss down onto the crown of your head and squeezes your shoulder tight, snatching his phone from where it’s resting behind you. Sliding it into his pocket, he calls Charlie’s name and hugs the excited puppy once before stepping into the elevator and reassuring you once more he’ll text you just as the doors slide shut.

He makes it about two minutes before your phone pings. His text illuminates on the screen, the message liquifying your insides all over again.

Husband: You coming like that on my fingers is going to be the only thing I’ll be able to think about for the rest of the day, I’ll have you know.

Your stomach tumbles and swoops low in your belly as you type out your reply.

You: Hurry back soon because I’m already thinking of how I’m planning on returning the favor. I know that’s all I’ll be thinking about until you get home.

He types and stops.

Types and stops again.

A wicked grin curls your lips.

And finally.

Husband: You’re cruel.

You: See you later, handsome.

You: xoxo.

——

please please as always let me know what you think! 🩷

#lunalovessteve #steve harrington x you #steve Harrington x reader #fake husband!steve harrington #modern!steve harrington

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love-lilly02 · 1 month

Text

The Challenge- Ch. 7

An- hey. (drops random half edited chapter that’s probably the shortest one i’ve ever written) see ya🚶🏾‍♀️

A total of two months, three and a half weeks and six days.

That was how long you had been MIA. Each time another day was added to that count, you grew more restless than before. You wanted to go home, to sleep in your bed, eat american food, damnit just to have a different color shirt to wear.

And yet you were still stuck here.

Each day started off the same. You would wake up at the ass crack of dawn, eat something akin to breakfast with Nikolai and wait to see if today was the day you were going back. Instead, he would silently place a knife on the table— some days it was different— and walk out of the room. The same routine, every day. for the past two months.

It was enough to drive any normal person insane. and it had almost driven you insane, definitely would have if you weren’t in the military.

You had managed to work up the courage to ask why he didn’t immediately send you back one day, why he tolerated you staying with him for this long.

“If i send you back they do things different. Look at you oddly, treat you weirder. Here you can rest, regain your skills.” He had said, not pausing to spare you a glance.

“I take you back when you ready.”

according to him, you had not been ready in a long time.

you never really gave up hope. Not actually, you knew logically at some point he had to bring you back to them. And going back on your own was a suicide mission, one even worse than the thing that had gotten you into this mess. So you waited.

If it took five months or seven years, you would wait.

Kate Laswell was a woman of action.

She knew this for a fact, it had been thrown back into her face so many times she lost body parts to count it. Which is why your disappearance bothered her so much. You were a person of action as well, it’s what prompted her to introduce you to the 141. So then why had you been MIA for the past three months? The thought sat there constantly, turning even the best days sour.

That, and what you were doing to the team.

It didn’t take a genius to figure it out, although you did have to look a bit harder to see the changes. Especially in people like Ghost and Price, whereas Kyle and Soap might as well have worn their emotions on their sleeves. She wished she could do something to help, to find where exactly you were. Or if you were alive, even.

All given evidence suggested otherwise.

She had replayed the shitty camera footage of your disappearance, watched it frame by frame, pixel by pixel. Mutiple times, and she couldn’t figure out how there could be a way for you to get out of there. It just wouldn’t have added up.

But she didn’t give up there, of course she wouldn’t.

She kept searching, looking for any sign of you. As a civilian, one of the russian’s captives, anyone. anything could come into play, you were a smart girl and everyone knew it.

Unfortunately, that also meant you could cover up your tracks well.

It took another month for anything good to come up. And that something good came as salvation always does.

In the form of a call.

John had made an attempt to push the situation out of his mind, to allow you to handle your own business. His thoughts screamed at him to be more active, to do something more, but there was literally nothing for it.

Or so he thought.

The call came in while he was walking out of a meeting, silently dreading the mound of paperwork he would now have to do. When he saw the caller ID he had to do a double take, and he rushed to answer the call.

“Nik?”

“Captain. It’s been a while, no?”

“Damn right it has. Makes me scared.”

His old friend laughed, and Price could imagine the way he was shaking his head.

“Yes, yes. But i have gift—what? okay, okay sheesh. I have… surprise… for you.”

Price just stared. “Is there someone else there? What’s goin on Nik?”

There was silence on the other end of the line, then a lot of rusting.

“Um. Hey.”

Price almost dropped the phone.

The process of getting you back wasn’t as hard as they thought it would be, but it certainly took a very long time.

In reality it took two weeks. But to them each day felt like a decade.

The entire flight took 11 hours, and they weren’t allowed to meet you halfway (something about using military vehicles for non military purposes. all four boys thought that was absolute bull shit but they couldn’t do anything about it) So they did the next best thing.

wait.

And they waited. and waited. Each time a chopper landed on the helipad they were rushing to the window, seeing if it was you. It got to the point that they had someone constantly surveying that area of the base, just so they could be immediately notified.

And finally, finally you were back.

It was a whole ordeal, theatrics that even soap had to roll his eyes at. The moment you got off the plane you were swamped with people asking questions, doctors trying to assess how you were alive and unharmed, people just staring in awe.

But you ignored them all, scanning the crowd with a panicked expression. It didn’t disappear till you saw the four of them, standing far, far away from the mob of people surrounding you.

Nik walked out behind you, placing a steadying hand on your shoulder. The two of you made your way down the ramp to the group, and Price smiled for the first time in a long time when he saw you.

“Welcome back, kid.”

this was gona be an akward chapter anyways, i had NO idea how to write the reader's return. I'll make it up to you guys next time, pinkie promise

My Masterist

#cod x reader #poly 141 x reader #task force 141 x reader #poly 141 #simon riley x reader #john soap mactavish #john price x reader #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost x reader

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jjunieworld · 4 months

Text

09. more than anything ⸝ ˚⋆

↳ half written, half texts. word count: 1.1k

— SOOBIN’S POV —

soobin could hardly wait until 3:30pm. he was so anxious about it, in fact, that he skipped the class he had before it all together.

he sat on his bed debating on what to do. should he bring something for her? no, that definitely makes him look insincere. she he put on nicer clothes? he didn’t know. so he instead sat on his bed frozen, all these thoughts going through his head.

the clock ticked by and every five seconds soobin would check his phone to make sure time didn’t jump five hours instead and he missed his only chance to explain himself. currently, it was 3:15pm. it takes him seven minutes to walk down to the cafe from his dorm.

should i get there early? soobin thought. perhaps. if he left now, he would get to the cafe at 3:21pm. maybe that’s too desperate, he concluded.

minutes ticked by and soobin decided he couldn’t wait any longer. he rushed out of his building and made the trek to the cafe.

when he arrived, it was 3:25pm. he tried looking through the window of the cafe for y/n, but he couldn’t see anything.

suddenly a thought forced its way into his head. what if she wasn’t here? what if she changed her mind?

as he pushed through the doors, he let out a sigh of relief. there y/n sat, at the same table she helped soobin at a lifetime ago. she didn’t look up at the sound of the bell, her eyes were downcast and she had a blank look on her face.

when soobin sat down all she did was look up at him. it felt like she was looking right through him. this y/n looked and felt so different from the y/n from over a week ago.

wordlessly, she put her phone face up on the table, the timer set for ten minutes on it. she pressed start and looked back up at soobin.

his heart pounded in his chest as he struggled to get his words together. the weight of knowing she was timing him didn’t make it any better.

he started by apologizing, profusely. then he went into what exactly happened that night, the drinking, the jealousy, the argument with sakura, and finally, the words he didn’t mean.

“i know people say that what you say in the heat of the moment are your true words, but i swear to you i didn’t mean that,” he breathed. he glanced down at her phone. five more minutes. y/n stared at him, once again saying nothing. so soobin continued.

“and to answer your question… it’s not that i was ignoring you. well, i guess i was, but not in the way you think. i promise! i was avoiding the feelings that came with seeing you. being near you. i like you, y/n. more than i’ve ever liked anyone. and i didn’t understand those feelings at first, i still kinda don’t. i thought that if i avoided you, then maybe they would go away. i didn’t even think about how that would affect you, and i’m truly sorry for that.”

the words spilled out of his mouth one by one until he couldn’t stop. he wanted to tell her more, but he got the majority of what he wanted to say across. and he only had two more minutes left.

soobin waited for y/n to say something, but for the remaining two minutes she simply stared at him with that same blank look. he desperately wished he knew what she was thinking. any indication that his words didn’t go in one ear and straight out the other.

her phone buzzed on the table when the two minutes were up. she grabbed it, stood up, and left the cafe without saying a single word to soobin.

soobin sat at the table stumped. he stared at the chair across from him where she just sat that was now bare. did he fuck it all up? was it all truly over?

after a couple more minutes, he too stood, and moved to leave the cafe.

he wasn’t paying attention as he went to open the door, too inside his head. so he was very shocked when it opened right in his face. a pissed looking yunjin pushed him backwards, demanding him to sit the hell down. and so he went and sat back at the table he was just at.

“of all the places…” she muttered under her breath as she sat. “of all the places…” she said again, louder, “of all the places she would disappear to when i go to check on her, she was here with you.”

she scoffed and looked up at him. he went to say something, but she held a hand up.

“shut up. i don’t want to hear it. she gave you one last chance, you’re very lucky. you try and pull some stupid shit like that again…” yunjin trailed off. she was so angry she could barely get her words out. soobin understood. she scoffed again, looked him up and down, and left.

soobin ran his hands through his hair. he’s done so so many times today that the strands were probably sticking up at this point.

he went over yunjin’s words. “she gave you one last chance, you’re very lucky.” indeed, he was, and he wasn’t going to blow it again.

classes were finally over and soobin could finally take his long awaited nap. late classes were actually torture.

as he was walking to the elevator, he felt someone come up next to him. he looked over to see y/n.

she didn’t look at him. instead her gaze was solely focused on the hallway in front of her. soobin smiled a little to himself and kept walking. he could feel some lingering stares on them, but he couldn’t care less. all that mattered was that she was next to him.

y/n moved to the side of the small crowd waiting by the elevator and soobin followed. she waited as they all got on said elevator, and until the elevator came back up empty. they got on, standing side by side, and soobin watched her.

he was willing to wait however long it took for y/n to speak to him.

soobin felt her hand slide into his. a smile broke out on his face as she looked up to him.

“you like me?” y/n asked him. “more than anything,” he replied. she smiled back at him. she nodded a little to herself as she looked back down.

“good,” she said. she looked back up to him. “you owe me another date.” soobin laughed a little and then nodded. “where do you want to go?”

masterlist.

summary: choi soobin has always been the popular kid surrounded by his popular friends. y/n… not so much. one night, soobin and his friends make bet that soobin can’t get y/n to date him in a month. unfortunately for y/n, they’re a hopeless romantic.

A/N: yunjin do nawt play… she gets down… double upload as a present! happy holidays!! ♡

taglist: @imagineyour-kpopboy @gothgyuu @carengene (if your name is bold it wouldn’t let me tag you!)

— kipo <3

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cowyolks · 1 year

Text

FORBIDDEN FRUIT

Chapter Seven. I See You

Prev. Chapter Six Masterlist

Pairing: God! Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Female Reader

Prompt: A prophecy written long ago stated of a human that would become the God’s wife and live in his domain for the rest of eternity.

A/n: Sorry this took eons to write. This chapter is longer than my others because I felt bad lol. Please enjoy!

It had been nearly a week since Simon had left in an angry flap of wings. At least you thought it was a week—time was hard to tell in the Underworld.

You spent your days in the large library of the palace, drinking in words as if they would sweep you away from your current situation. If you read the text with enough concentration you could pretend that you weren’t in danger, let alone with such beings of high power.

In this week, it had given you a lot of time to think. To reflect that you were just shaken, and Simon had been the one to protect you against your mother, Shepherd, and any other threat you’ve encountered. It wouldn’t make sense for him to kill you, specifically since he had been so passionate in proclaiming you as his promised.

You thought, and you thought hard.

Maybe being his wife would result in safety, in undying gratitude that he’s shown you already. Perhaps, loving a God could make you feel immortal.

A page flipping startled your thinking, making you pull your eyes away from the passage you were blankly staring at.

Keegan had been your role protector in the last few days, only changing shifts with the furies when you bathed and first thing in the morning when he had conferences.

While his black robes and sharp appearance stood out like a sore thumb in the massive library, he made it clear he was a man of literature. He’s introduced you to the book you were skimming upon now.

“You’re thinking awfully hard to just be reading.” His deep voice was very similar to Simon’s, but unlike your betrothed, Keegan’s voice teased and slithered playfully.

Like a friend you’ve known of centuries.

“I’m worried about Simon. Has he contacted you, lately?” You chewed your lip, bookmarking your page and setting it in your lap. You felt ashamed for sitting idly and reading while Simon was cleaning up your own mess. With the artificial sun dimming into oranges and pinks you knew it would be another day without him.

“No, but don’t worry, flos. Simon can take care of himself.” Keegan spoke in blunt honesty, something you appreciated, but didn’t stop your stomach from twisting.

You glanced down to your ankle, no longer hidden by your long dress. Instead you wore a summer dress of lilac, the material smooth against your skin. The mark had healed slightly, only red blemishes remained, instead of the painful burnt char that was there before.

“Hey…” Keegan spoke up, nudging your shoulder slightly, “all this worrying is only going to give you grief, come let’s take a walk before it gets too dark.”

The lethal man stood, stretching on his heels and flexing his spine, almost similar to a large predatory cat. His white eyes turned to you, upon noticing that you haven’t moved an inch, your eyebrows still furrowed together.

“Up… I’ve got something that will lift your spirits.” Keegan commanded, offering you his hand, calloused from holding his scythe.

You took it, surprised to find the flesh warm and comforting. He hauled you up, releasing you before nodding his head to the doors that led outside.

You followed close by, something Keegan insisted upon so he could watch your every move. In a way you were relieved to have such protection from the demon, but annoyance tickled your mind since you enjoyed solitude on occasion. That wasn’t an option now.

A solid thwack to your back made you stumble slightly, your eyes going wide as you nearly fell upon the stone path. Keegan’s deep chuckle mocked you as he flapped his wings playfully. You narrowed your eyes, a small smile gracing your lips at his amused expression.

“That hurt, you oversized chicken.” You let the insult slip your tongue with a teasing lit, though it didn’t halt Keegan’s gloating nature.

“Chicken… No one has ever called Death a chicken.” He teased, his smile broke open, revealing a set of sharp canines. “Wipe that grin off your face, mighty one.” You found yourself quipping again, truly thankful to Thanatos for halting your fears and doubts. It was comforting to know you’ve made a friend, regardless of him being the literal vessel of Death.

“I wanted to show you a place of peace. It’s Simon’s favorite spot to be when he isn’t working.” Keegan crossed his arms behind his back, retracting his wings as he marched like a dutiful soldier.

He led you to an area of seclusion, hidden by waves of ivy and vines. With large hands he pushed the plants back, gesturing for you to step through the cavern and into a very familiar garden.

The garden from your nightmare.

Your steps halted, gaze falling upon the stone path that lead to your own demise. Keegan took notice, his palm coming to rest upon your shoulder in comfort.

You attempted to anchor yourself to him, forcing your eyes away from the sight from your potential death. Yet, the God seemed to read you enough for a knowing look to creep on his face. “Whatever you dreamt of, it will not happen.” He spoke so firmly you immediately felt the heavy weight fall from your shoulders.

“It just felt so real. I died over there.” You pointed, Keegan followed your gaze before pushing you forward. “I know when all deaths will happen, flos. The demon was tricking you.”

This made you uneasy, but you began to creep forward to the path anyways. “So you know when and how I’ll die?” You questioned, taking in the truly magnificent details of the garden.

His lips quirked up, his youthful appearance did little to hide his actual age. You supposed death was as old as time itself, because even the stars died before mortals walked the earth.

“Yes, I suppose I know how everyone will die, but tis bad luck to tell.”

You dropped the subject, feeling as if you already had enough bad luck for the century. With a shake of your head, you began to walk the path, knowing that Keegan would be there to protect you. Maybe, if you faced your fear, you could finally get rid of the cloud of doubt forming. It was only two weeks until the effects of the pomegranate wore off. Two weeks you had to decide if you would marry a God.

The path broke off into a split, the union breaking to give way to a simply gorgeous pond of the clearest waters you’ve ever seen. It was full of life, tadpoles swam in little circles, among with an occasional swan. Frogs bobbed above the surface, and koi fish gently preened the green vegetation on the bottom.

It was simply beautiful, and it made you feel more relaxed than you’ve felt in a long time.

“I gave this to Hades after word was told of a union between him and his betrothed.” A voice said from behind you, making you yelp and jump back near Keegan.

Keegan gripped his scythe tight, but made no effort to use his weapon.

Your eyes found purchase of a woman, her hair like spun gold and face as beautiful as it was dangerous. She was dressed in white, her dress accented with what looked to be feathers. She floated above the water, hovering just enough to not touch the wet surface.

“Hera.” Keegan greeted with a bow, a small slap to your back told you that you needed to repeat his gesture. Softly, you curtseyed, eyes curious as you took in her glowing aura.

“Thanatos, may I borrow the girl for a moment?”

Keegan’s lips pursed, obviously not pleased with the question. “I don’t like the idea of her leaving my side, Queen Mother. Forgive me, but I was told to watch her by orders of Hades himself.”

Hera smiled slightly, her skin glowing like a warm pearl in the artificial sunlight. She stepped closer, now firmly on the stone path. “Yes, I was told in council of his protection notice. Ghost is very fond of you, mortal.” She turned to you, a glimmer in her knowledgeable eyes.

You couldn’t help the nervousness eating away at you. “Is he alright?” You found yourself asking, cursing yourself with how much concern you had actually voiced. A knowing smile fell upon the woman’s face.

“As far as I know he is well. Hades left with Artemis earlier this week, she’s our best tracker. If they find word of Makarov we shall know.” Hera informed with her lips pressed together. She now ascended in front of you and Keegan, the God pushing you behind him slightly in protective vigor.

“Makarov?” You voiced, attempting to ignore the shiver that traveled up your spine. Was this the name of the demon that had sent you into such a fright?

Hera stood in front of Thanatos, both of their auras contrasting each other in a clash of dark and light “Let me speak with the girl. We shall stay in your sight, and no harm will come to her, I swear upon the River Styx.”

Keegan huffed, still slightly displeased, but whatever vow she had insisted was enough for him to shake her hand in agreement. “Come with me, mortal. We have much to discuss.” Hera turned to you with periwinkle eyes.

You found yourself stepping around Keegan, his stare burning into your back as you followed after Hera, attempting to keep up with her long stride amongst the stone path. She snapped her fingers, producing two sitting cushions against the soft grass.

Hesitantly you sat against a cushion, the woman falling next to you. Keegan watched from across the pond, arms crossed as he waited.

“You must be unsurprised of us Gods and Godesses appearing before you. But I am Hera, Queen of the Olympians and Goddess of Bonds and Women. But you may call me Kate.”

“You’re Zeus’ Queen?”

Hera smiled softly, a little chuckle falling from her petal lips. “I suppose so. When the atoms formed us and the titans, Zeus and I decided to rein together, but we do not hold a romantic connection, no.”

“I apologize.” You hoped to not offend such a powerful being, despite her vow to keep you safe in this short time.

“It is a common thing to ask, especially since you did not know any better. Most of us Gods do not have the satisfaction of finding a partner.” Kate tutted, her graceful hand swishing across the grass.

“Yet, Simon had found me.” You murmured, eyes falling to the pond that symbolized your betrothal.

“You know, I’m the Queen of Marriage. It was I that the Fates consulted to draw your match.” Hera spoke up, just as the water began to brighten slightly. As if her words echoed into the wet surface.

“So you must know about this prophecy.” You questioned, hoping to possibly get some answers about what the Olympian’s kept mentioning. Yet, you were left dissatisfied, for the Queen of the Heavens pursed her lips. “I do know of the prophecy, but I do not know it word for word. It would be wise to consult in Gaz at your wedding.”

“Gaz is another God?” You questioned, attempting to ignore how sure Hera was that you’d accept Hades’ marriage proposal. “Yes, Apollo is his name, he’s the God of Prophecy and the Sun.”

“There are many of you, it’s hard to imagine you have any enemies at all.”

Kate’s face turned grim, her eyes swirling in a look of caution. “Makarov was always locked away in prison in the underworld. It frightens me that he was able to slither his way into your chambers so easily.”

“How could he have escaped?”

Hera’s lips pursed, “I don’t think he truly has. What you saw was merely a figment of him. Makarov is Tartarus, pure chaos. He wouldn’t have let you live if he was in his true form.”

“He said he wanted everything from me.” Your voice came out confused, what would literal chaos want with a mortal?

“We will keep you safe. Besides, times will be happier.” Hera stood from her position, seemingly satisfied with the little chat.

“Wait…” you called out, suddenly feeling your cheeks redden as you bit your lip in thought. “You said you fortified our marital bond. Will I be happy? Will he?”

Hera let a soft grin spread across her lips.

“For Eternity.”

You stood in front of the mirror, taking time to glance at yourself before making the descent to your chamber. The moon reflected against the glass, as well as Kleo’s watching eyes.

It wasn’t ideal for her to watch your every move, especially such simple actions like bathing or dressing. But it did ease your mind and made your thoughts run clearer.

“Almost ready?” Kleo asked from against the wall, her hand resting upon the hilt of her sword, as if anything would happen in the slightest second.

With a final glance in the mirror, your eyes traveled to the soft ivy green of your nightdress, before shifting up to the soft blemish of your neck, still visible and showcasing.

“Yes, thank you for waiting.” You made sure to show appreciation to all of your guards, knowing they likely had so much better things to do.

It was a short walk to your chambers, the room was lit by a series of candles. Something you found to be lit at all times, despite the waste of wax. The thought of being alone in the darkness was now too much for you to bare, despite being guarded.

You never wanted to see those red eyes again.

Before you could even sit down on your furs, a loud commotion made you jump, coming just from down the hall. Kleo drew her sword, placing you behind her quickly.

“Your Grace, please. You’re injured!” A small voice called out into the hallway, just as footsteps grew louder towards your chambers. “Move.” His deep voice growled close to your door, making you bite your cheek in worry and in happiness that he was back.

The God of the Dead bursted through your door, not bothering to knock or even unfold his wings to make his way through the door. Instead, he stood still, his wild eyes falling to you.

Kleo lowered her weapon, still staying close.

“Are you hurt?” He asked rapidly, you didn’t hesitate to shake your head, not knowing what would happen if you so much as said you had a paper cut.

His shoulders sagged in relief, and it was then that you could see he let his fatigue and injuries get the best of him. Your God was covered in slashing wounds, all the color of his blood of liquid gold.

He took a step closer, and another, until he stumbled slightly, a large gash on his torso making him gasp. It was strange seeing someone of such high power be in pain. Almost instantly you reached out, running on your own instinct as you lowered him down to your furs.

“Why hasn’t he been tended to?” You asked to the man in white robes, likely a medic to Simon. He gulped, extending a variety of bandages and salves out for you to see. “I was trying, he insisted upon seeing you first, my lady.”

Your gaze traveled down to Simon, who was covering a particular long gash on his chest, his eyes adverted almost as if he was scared of your reaction.

With a huff, you moved to take the supplies into your own hands. “I’ve got this, I was my village’s healer. Besides the two of us need to talk.”

The medic nodded, hastily bowing with relief before shuffling out of the room. Kleo held your stare for a moment, before following out of the room.

“What happened to you?” Worry dripped from your tone like falling rain. Gently, you set the bandages upon your bed, right across from Simon. His wings twitched behind his back, just as his black eyes glanced up.

“We found him—the demon. He was stronger than I thought. Artemis and I hardly escaped. But I believe he’s licking his wounds somewhere far away.” His legs spread wider against your bed, his torso leant back and stretching. He jerked, letting out a loud hiss. Even with the mask upon his face you could see the wincing in pain.

“Stop, stop moving you’ll make it hurt worse.” You fussed, bringing up a bottle of salve to your eyes.

“Already hurts pretty bad, darling.”

Your heart fluttered at the name, still you attempted to hide your shaking fingers as your eyes trailed down to his mauled torso. Silently, you bit down upon your lip. Who could destroy a God so easily?

“I need you to take off your shirt.” You ordered, feeling some sense of professionalism leak through your command—Perks of years of healing in your village.

Simon did as told with little fuss, lifting his arms to pull his robes over his head, but as he tugged upon the swirling fabric his wound gushed more liquid gold, making you hastily reach out to him.

“Stop! I’ll do it, you’ll injure yourself more.” Simon dropped his arms back down, looking to be in relief as his skin constricted normally again. He said nothing as you pried his clothing from his torso. Even though it was your second time seeing his rippling chest and stomach, you still found yourself inhaling slightly harder as you examined him.

Snapping out of your stupor, you reached near your nightstand, taking a rag from the pile and dipping it into a wash basin you had previously used to wash your face. The water was still warm to the touch.

You made work of dabbing the multiple wounds with the water, surprised that Simon didn’t even flinch when the rag hit his wounds. You wondered then how many battles he was truly in.

His eyes pierced against your face, making you heavily aware of his stare as you dabbed salve upon the already closing wounds. With nimble hands you began to wrap up his chest.

“You’re staring…” you muttered, eyebrow furrowed in concentration as you attempted to ignore his stare. His hand reached up, latching to your own as he squeezed lightly.

“Makarov, he gets into people’s heads, he managed to get the best of me, slashed clean through my cheek. I thought I had lost you, it seemed so real.” His words rumbled deep within his chest, sincerity dripping from his tone.

“I’m right here.” You assured.

His eyes blew out in adoration, something you were beginning to grow used to. How he adored the air because it was what you breathed, how he envied the sun and rain because they got to touch your skin. How he planted flowers in your name because you had once picked the stems.

“I know.” He whispered.

It was silent for a moment, until you thought back to what he previously said. You sucked in a breath, “you said Makarov cut your face, you need to treat it. I can leave if it brings you comfort?”

His hand gripped your wrist tighter, silence over taking you for a moment before he attempted to sit up straighter.

“Stay.” He requested, a silent plea that spoke volumes. This was huge, at long last you would see his face. His fingers dropped your hand, instead reaching up to the skull helm he proudly wore.

You gulped as he peeled it from his skin.

Air escaped every crevice of your lungs when you looked to him. The real him.

He was every bit a God. His hair cropped and a color of sweet honey. His skin was rich and pale, previous smile lines etched against his eyes, amongst with dark circles hidden underneath his black irises. His nose was large, that fit well against his high cheekbones and lengthy cheeks. Stubble grazed over his sharp jaw, and a singular white scar ran through the bottom of his chin to a set of petal pink lips.

Without thinking, you brought your palm to his cheek that was free of any injuries, reveling in the warmth of his skin and prick of his stubble. He was real, despite how beautiful he was. He was yours.

“You’re staring.” He repeated you from earlier, a small smile peeking from his lips, you decided it was breathtaking.

“You’re insufferable…” you teased back, hand still cradling his cheek. His eyes locked with yours intensely—an intensity that wasn’t there when he was wearing a mask.

“And you’re simply exquisite, Sponsa Mea.” Simon slightly turned his head, his lips falling upon your open palm in a gentle searing kiss.

Your face flushed at the kiss, something that made you yearn for it to be his lips on yours instead of just your palm.

“I’ve had some time to think about our betrothal.” You murmured, suddenly feeling just how close you were to him. How his eyes fluttered shut at the sound of your voice, as if he was intoxicated just on you.

He hummed, the dark wings behind his back extending to your waist, only touching you enough to tickle against your sides. You weren’t sure if he was truly aware of what he was doing, his face still locked against your touch.

“I’ll stay. I’ll marry you.”

Tags: @soapyghost @queenqu33f @blueoorchid @lethalchiralium @eclipse-darling @galagcica @dead-noodles @agspgrwasb @toobsessedsstuff @mooniesyubi @cookielovesbook-akie @vile-villain6661 @peachlcve @soldier-lass @ghostslittlegf @rebel-soldat @erintaro @ghost-with-a-teacup @fante-di-denari @sollucifer @embers-of-alluring @icepancakes @queen-ilmaree @ahmya-4 @msecho19 @the-abyss-of-fandoms @madysonavery @angstyjellybean @trashboat-the-raccoon @multitargaryen @kdkj122920 @montenegroisr @lilacsourgirl @thisperspective @random0lover @pasta-m1lk @badpvn @sweetybuzz25z25 @stupendoustyrantstranger @4ndjelij4 @bootlegroach @brainstormbby @yehet-moi-ohoratrat @lilpothoscuttings

#cod #call of duty modern warfare #simon ghost riley #simon riley #modern warfare #simon ghost riley x reader

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kanmom51 · 6 months

Text

Just dropping these here for a sec

Obviously I will talk about this when I write about my impressions about Standing next to you, but that might take some time, and this popped out at me and well, I had to share this like NOW!!!

Letter

Baby, don't leave Just stay by my side, yeah To you, who see me bigger than what my little self is (to you) So that I can give as much as I’ve received (oh-oh) So that I can keep my word (oh-oh) Don't worry, just stay by my side, yeah (Yeah) We don’t know what the future holds (holds, yeah) And that’s scary and makes us afraid (oh-oh) But don’t forget that we’re always together (don't forget)

Standing next to you

Screamin', I testify that We'll survive the test of time They can't deny our love They can't divide us We'll survive the test of timeI swear that I'll be right here

And side by side:

I will also say this without getting into it too much at this point, but Standing next to you is heavily Jikook coded. For example:

Yeah

And this one:

and:

So, we have rain (rainy day fight which both JK and JM brought up kind of out of nowhere again in their June lives), we have the pain (JM's Like crazy lyrics in English: "Can you help me numb the pain?"), the very visible 13 again. We have JK as probably a dark angel, but looking very much like his Black swan back in 2020. A black swan that a one PJM really liked. Like REALLY LIKED.

And it's kind of a circle here, cause when you think of black swan you think of:

And when you think about this Jikook, you think about this as well:

And there you are, we are back to the sun and moon.

Now, JK did say this:

And yes, the lyrics were not written by JK.

But: a. JK not writing the lyrics does not necessarily mean that he did not have an input as to certain words or descriptions he wanted inserted into them; and b. People shouldn't read the songs as autobiographical, as in, unlike what fans have been farting out of their asses (and do forgive me for the language, but it had to be said), JK doesn't fuck a different woman seven days a week, and hasn't just broken up with his gf, whom he still loves but has to hate cause that's the only way he can handle it, you know, that same gf he was seen making out with back in LA Dec 21, or maybe Nicole? or was it the blond from Qatar? No, it's the pregnant gf from the clip of the apartment that isn't his. Bottom line being, JK saying this was telling stupid ass fans that he's an artist, just incase they didn't know that already, and as such he is performing songs that he did not write and that do not necessarily represent him in real life.

There is definitley more to say, but I think I'll stop here for now.

Like I said, just dropping this here for a sec.

#Jungkook #JK #JK Standing next to you #JK Golden #Jikook #Kookmin #Minkook #Jimin #JM #JM Letter

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elliesflwrgirl · 11 months

Note

Ellie and the reader broke up like a week ago because of Ellie’s more toxic and possessive traits making the reader feel suffocated. Maybe they break up because of a big fight and Ellie gets mean or Ellie got seriously jealous over something very small. I just want to see Ellie be a wreck and wanting to cry every time she sees the reader, and then they reconnect and forgive each other. Like it was their first big fight in their relationship and first time they have to try to change for the better.

cw, just plot, and it’s just cute and sad rlly!

summary: ellie apologizes at a party for being too possessive and jealous…kinda happy ending?

this is kinda different from the stuff i have previously written, it’s just plot, which was kinda fun to write!!

if u enjoy like and reblog pls and thx!!! i love u.

.·:*¨¨* ・❥・ ≈☆≈ ・❥・*¨¨*:·.

you and ellie had been broken up for a week, and though it was only seven days it felt like absolute hell. you had become so dependent on ellie, you ate together, you slept together, you showered together and now…you did all of those things by yourself. just within this week everything you did reminded you of ellie. the blanket on your couch that she hated because it was “scratchy”, and even your bed smelled like her.

you hadn’t left the house within the week, dina had been bringing you some food and her company. as dina brought you dinner last night she mentioned a party, and offered you an invite. you used to love parties, and so did ellie. well, she loved the being there with you. a sinking feeling washes over you as you remember the last party you went to. ellie had gotten jealous over some bartender that was serving you, giving you free drinks. it seemed like you couldn’t do anything without ellie thinking about it suggestively.

you get free drinks? you were flirting. you get a compliment? ellie wanted to kick their teeth in. someone touches you? ellie wanted to rip their fucking hands off. it all felt too much, like you couldn’t do anything. it was suffocating.

she made you two leave early, even though you were having fun. you had never seen her so pissed, and you tried and tried to comfort her. tell her you only think of her, but she wasn’t buying it.

ellie knew she had an issue with jealousy and possession, but when it came to you she couldn’t care less if she had a problem. and that in it self was the problem. that fight in her truck was the last straw for both of you. it was over.

part of you wanted to sit and rot on your couch, because that was comfortable. another part of you knew to get over this breakup was to get out of your comfort zone. hell, who knows maybe you’ll meet someone.

as you walk through the door to the party dina pulls you close, arm around your shoulder. “ellie might be here…but you don’t have to talk to her if you’re not ready.” she whispers into your ear over the music.

your heart beats faster at the possibility of seeing ellie, were you ready? was this the right choice? was she ready to talk about it? all of those questions suddenly felt small and insignificant as you laid eyes on ellie. skinny jeans and her flannel hiked up around her elbows. her tattoo on display as she took a hit from the joint in between her fingers. her gaze connected with yours and look passed between you two. you shook the feeling and followed dina to the other side of the house.

about ten or more shots in, you’re dancing with dina. dina grabbing your hips and moving with them. you laughed and sang along to the song. dina whispered something in your ear about grabbing a drink but you were too caught up in dancing to really care what she said.

hands grabbed your hips from behind, pulling you to theirs. “i’ve been wanting to talk to you all night.” you hear the familiar voice hit your ears. her warm breath fanning your neck sent a chill of relief down your spine. even when you two weren’t technically together, she was comforting. “ellie,” you sigh softly and she rests her head on your shoulder as you two dance back and forth.

“i missed you.” she mumbles and you nod your head. “i’ve missed you too but we need a break,” you turn to face her and she keeps her hands laced around your waist. when you see her it’s like everything felt okay for a second, just for a moment it was like nothing had happened between you two. “i know i messed up, okay? i know i…i know i get really jealous and it’s a problem.” she rushes out and you listen quietly. “and i’m so sorry i ruined your night, i just…i can’t stand to see you with anyone else. this can’t be it between us, right?” you can hear the pain in her voice, and the slight redness under her eyes.

she’d been crying, and so had you. you didn’t know what to say. you didn’t want this to be over, it couldn’t be over. you purse your lips and look at her, “ellie, i can’t be with someone who overthinks everything i do. i can’t live like that. how would you feel if i said you were flirting with someone who was very clearly one sidedly flirting with you? i would never do that to you, and it hurts that you think i would.” you speak passionately and the corners of her lips quirk into a frown.

“i’d hate it. and i don’t think you’d cheat on me…i just don’t think i deserve you. you’re so good and i’m not. everybody would be lucky to have you in their life, and i guess i’m just selfish because i want to keep you all to myself.” she admits and your hands find the sides of her neck, your thumb running back and forth over her neck. “els, you are so good. you’re a good person. i want to keep you all to myself but i know when to be jealous or not.” you sigh and she nods her head. “i know, and im working on that. im going to be better for you, because i want you. i’ll do whatever it takes, okay?” you nod your head and pull her in.

you lay a soft kiss on her head, “i still love you, idiot.” you hum softly and she laughs. “oh i know you do, duh.”

this wasn’t a complete win, but you were getting there

.·:*¨¨* ・❥・ ≈☆≈ ・❥・*¨¨*:·.

to be continued…?

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #tlou #tlou fanfiction #tlou2 #ellie williams fanfic

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lumosandnoxwriting · 4 months

Text

you wanting me tonight feels impossible || George Weasley

Title: you wanting me tonight feels impossible Pairing: George x Reader Summary: running into an old friend just might be the thing you need Warnings: mentions of cheating but it does not take place between George and the reader! A/N: here she is, the next part! Honestly writing this fic gave me major nostalgia vibes, to me it feels like a fic I would have written back when i first started on tumblr and honestly im not mad about it.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Y/N?”

She turns at the sound of her name, eyes widening in surprise at who she finds standing behind her.

“Oh no way. George, hi,” Y/N greets. Her stomach flutters at the grin that spreads across his face, her mouth running dry at how good he looks.

The last time she’d seen George they were seventeen, and he was flying away from Hogwarts with Fred by his side. Most people had been laughing, overfilled with joy at watching the twins get one last prank over on old Umbridge before they disappeared into the night. And Y/N had been happy too, but she also found herself a bit mournful.

Her and George weren’t exactly friends she’d say, but acquainted in the way people from other houses were with each other after being in the same classes for seven years. They were friendly with each other in the halls and in classes, and the few times they’d been paired up for projects George had always been nice, and stuck around to talk with her about things unrelated to school or their coursework.

And like most girls in their school, she had a massive crush on him. Y/N had spent countless hours pining after the Weasley boy, doodling hearts around his name and imagining what it would be like to run her hands through his soft ginger hair.

So watching him fly away left her sad and mourning any chance she may have had with him.

To see him here now, older and more refined but still as handsome as ever, has her heart pounding, mind already going places she never thought it would go again.

“I thought that was you. How’ve you been?” George asks, holding his arms out for a hug. When she steps into his embrace he continues, arms wrapping around her middle. “It’s been ages, I never really see you around here.”

Y/N tries to keep her breathing even as George hugs her, not wanting to give away how much his casual touch is affecting her. She very much feels like that shy school girl she once was, no matter how many times she tries to remind herself that she is an adult now, and it’s perfectly normal for two acquaintances who haven’t seen each other in a while to hug.

“I moved abroad after graduation,” she explains as they pull away, hoping the blush on her cheeks isn’t obvious. “I was doing some work with magical creatures in Australia, but I started to miss home.”

Y/N decides to leave out the fact that what really prompted her arrival back to England was the discovery of her fiance in bed with a woman she considered to be her best friend, figuring that’s more of a conversation the second or third time they see each other. If they see each other again. She doesn’t want to get her hopes up.

“Don’t tell me you’re the new professor at Hogwarts?” George asks, a twinkle in his eye. When Y/N nods in affirmation, he laughs. “No way, that’s bloody brilliant. Fred and I are opening a branch of Wheezes up in Hogsmeade, I’m moving up there next week to run it. Looks like we’re going to be neighbors,” he finishes, nudging Y/N and giving her a wink.

“Guess so,” Y/N laughs, trying to dampen the butterflies in her stomach. “It’s actually quite a relief to hear that, I was a bit nervous about being up there with no company besides my old professors. I’m glad to have a familiar face around.”

George’s grin widens. “I’ve gotta run, but it was really nice to see you again, Y/N. I’ll see you again soon.”

Just as quickly as he was there he’s gone again, just like all of those years ago. But Y/N doesn’t feel sad. There’s just one thing she’s feeling, really:

Hope.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

The grin that spreads across her face is automatic at the sound of George’s voice, and Y/N has to take a few deep breaths to center herself before turning around to greet him. She’s excited to see a matching smile on George’s face, and it only fuels the butterflies that have started to flutter in her lower belly.

“George,” she greets, motioning to the empty seat next to her in invitation. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“I was hoping I’d run into you,” George starts as he takes a seat, shoulder nudging Y/N’s. “I was starting to think you were just a figment of my imagination.”

She can’t help the flush that takes over her cheeks, hoping it can be chalked up to the heat in the room from the crowded bar. Y/N has been up at Hogwarts for almost a week now, and while getting ready for classes and settling into her new suite at the castle has been time consuming, she’s been avoiding heading into Hogsmeade. It’s not that she hasn’t been dying to run into George again, because that is definitely something she has thought about nonstop since their last chance encounter.

It’s more like she’s been scared to see him again, scared that whatever old feelings their chance encounter dragged back to the surface aren’t returned. That she has been dying to see him again while George was off living his life, not giving Y/N and their brief reunion another thought.

But even in just these few short moments since he sat down, Y/N feels all those fears fading away. George is the one who sought her out, the bar is crowded enough that she’d have been none the wiser if he snuck in and took a seat somewhere else to try and avoid her. And yet he is the one who came over, the one who took a seat and decided to settle in at her side.

Y/N can’t help but hope that this isn’t one sided after all.

“Things have been busy up at the castle,” she explains, not totally lying. With only one week left until students arrive for the start of the year, even Filch has been on edge - constantly mumbling to Mrs. Norris as he mops the Great Hall for the fourth time. “This is the first night I haven’t been so exhausted that I fell asleep right after dinner.”

George chuckles, taking a sip of the firewhiskey Rosmerta has just placed on the bar in front of him. “I know the feeling. We did a bit of a soft launch this week for the new store, thinking it would be less busy without all the students around so I would have a chance to work out all the hiccups and get my new staff trained, but it was crazier than anticipated. So now I’ve spent the last few evenings working overtime to get everything sorted for our actual grand opening next weekend.”

“Look at you,” Y/N teases, bumping their shoulders together in a playful gesture. “Never thought I’d see the day George Weasley was putting in overtime. You sure you’re the same George who used to sleep through transfiguration?”

“Ha ha, very funny,” he drawls, giving Y/N a wink that makes her heart flutter. “I’ll have you know that I retained more information by sleeping through McGonagall’s lessons instead of daydreaming during it.” He pauses then, a more serious look taking over his features. “But in all honesty, it’s so different when it’s something you’re passionate about - ya know?”

Y/N nods when George looks to her for confirmation, prompting him to continue.

“You’re right, in school I couldn’t be arsed to do more than what was required of me to not get kicked out. Though I guess it doesn’t really matter on account of the fact that Fred and I never finished anyway,” he pauses to chuckle and take another drag from his glass. “But doing everything for Wheezes, it doesn’t really feel like work. Like obviously at the end of the day I’m bloody exhausted and some days my whole body aches, but in the moment when I’m doing it, or when I stop to think about everything Fred and I have managed to achieve, I don’t really mind it at all.”

Hearing George speak so passionately about his work makes Y/N fall just a little bit more in love with him, and at the end of his speech she has to take a sip from her own glass to give her some time to think of something to say that’s not some kind of love confession.

“I’m really happy for you, George. You’re clearly passionate about what you do, and I’m glad that you found that for yourself.”

George’s cheeks flush, and he takes another sip to try and hide it. “What about you, Y/N? Have you found your passion?”

The way he mutters passion makes Y/N’s toes curl, and she prays to Godric that the shiver that runs down her spine isn’t noticeable.

“I thought I did,” she starts, shifting uncomfortably. She figured this conversation would come up eventually, but Y/N had been hoping she’d have more time to reconnect with George before airing out all of her dirty laundry. “The work I was doing in Australia was incredible. I could swear some of the creatures out there were straight out of a muggle fantasy novel, they were nothing like we’d ever learned about at Hogwarts.”

“So then why move back here?” George prompts when she hesitates to continue.

“I came home early from work one day, one of our dragon’s eggs had hatched, and my boss let everyone go home to celebrate. And when I walked in I couldn’t find my fiance anywhere, until I went into our bedroom to change and he was there. In bed. Railing my best friend.”

The noise George makes causes her to pause, and Y/N gives him a sad smile before continuing. “I loved Australia, but suddenly I just really needed to get the fuck out of there, you know? Like it’s a huge continent and yet the only way I felt like I could put enough space between myself and that situation was to leave. So when McGonagall reached out about the position at Hogwarts I said yes and didn’t look back.”

“Holy fuck,” George breathes after a moment of silence, draining the rest of the liquid in his cup. “I’m not gonna lie, Y/N, that was the last possible thing I thought you might say. But holy fuck.” He gives her a look, motioning for Rosmerta to refill their glasses.

“I’m sorry those dickwads did that to you, cheating is probably one of the worst things someone could do to you,” he continues once their cups are full again. “I’m sorry about Australia too, I can’t imagine having to leave Wheezes behind, it takes a special person to walk away from that.”

Y/N shrugs, desperately trying to trample down the butterflies in her stomach at George’s casual compliments. No matter how many times she tries to remind herself that George is just being a good friend, her brain can’t help but interpret his actions as something more.

“I mourned the loss of my relationship and Australia for a bit, but I don’t know. Something about being back home at Hogwarts just feels right.”Something about being here with you too, her brain adds unhelpfully. “I mean, if I had stayed in Australia I never would have ran into you that day,” she chides, playfully bumping their shoulders together.

The grin that spreads across George’s face is earth shattering, and he lets out a laugh as he raises his glass. “I’ll drink to that. Cheers, Y/N, to old friends and new beginnings!”

As their glasses clink together Y/N can only hope that her new job at Hogwarts isn’t the only new beginning they’re toasting.

“Well I must say your workplace looks much more fun than mine,” Y/N jokes as she comes up behind George, giving him a grin as he twirls around to see her. “And miraculously it seems much louder as well,” she continues following a roar of laughter.

“Y/N!” George greets excitedly, his smile stretching across his entire face. “I was hoping I might see you here today.”

She can feel her cheeks flush, and takes a deep breath in to try and quell the butterflies in her stomach. “Of course, there’s no place I’d rather be on my first day of freedom.”

Since the day students arrived at Hogwarts, Y/N has barely had time to breathe - let alone sneak down to Hogsmeade. Between planning her lessons, actually giving those lessons, grading assignments and fielding student questions and visits to her office, the only thing Y/N has managed to do once she retires to her quarters in the evening is pass out face first into bed. And while her and George have exchanged a few owls here and there since their last encounter, nothing beats actually seeing him in person.

So when McGonagall asked for staff volunteers to chaperone the first Hogsmeade trip of the term, Y/N’s hand was first in the air. She’d much rather spend her Saturday meandering through the little village than facilitating weekend detention. And if she happened to wander into the new shop along main street that’s run by a familiar ginger boy - then so be it.

“I’m honored,” George responds. He gestures wildly with his hand, taking a step closer to Y/N so he can lean in closer. “Let me give you the grand tour.”

George leads Y/N around the shop then, pointing out different products and explaining what they do. He keeps a hand pressed to the small of her back to keep her close, and the heat of his palm sends tingles radiating through her body. She’s mesmerized by the way he talks about his work, and Y/N is almost too focused on watching his eyes twinkle that she’s not even sure what he’s actually saying most of the time. At one point he even leans in to whisper in her ear so she can hear him over the noise of the store, and the feeling of his breath brushing her cheek sends a wave of shivers down her spine.

It seems like only a matter of minutes before Y/N and George end up back where they started, and much to her surprise and joy, George doesn’t make a move to pull away. His hand stays firmly pressed against Y/N’s back, and she takes the liberty to lean in even closer to the ginger man.

“So,” George murmurs, lips barely brushing against her hair. “What do you think of the place?”

“It’s great, George,” she answers honestly, still in awe of everything Fred and George have managed to build over the last few years. “You can tell how much you really care about what you do, and the creativity George, your mind is incredible.”

A light blush coats George’s cheeks as he waves away Y/N’s praise. “Oh stop, it’s not like I’m a professor or anything,” he teases, giving her a nudge. “I’m just a silly guy with a brother and a dream - that’s all.”

“George,” Y/N admonishes, nudging him right back. “You really are brilliant, and anyone who’s ever made you doubt that is a git. What you and Fred have done is amazing, you’ve taken your passion for something and turned it into this empire that does nothing but bring joy to people. That took a lot of hard work, dedication and skill. It’s incredible George - truly.”

Neither one says anything, just letting Y/N’s words hang heavy between them. The noise of the shop has faded into the background, electricity so heavy in the air Y/N can feel it tingle on the tip of her tongue. George starts to slowly lean down just as she starts to tip her head back, their bodies moving closer of their own accord.

Eyelids fluttering closed, Y/N can feel George’s breath ghost across her lips - the only thought in her head a quietly whispered “finally.”

Just as suddenly as they came together, Y/N and George separate as a worried voice calls out. “Professor! Professor, come quick! John and Thomas are fighting again!”

“Duty calls,” George sighs, tucking a stray piece of hair behind Y/N’s ear. He lets his thumb drag down across her jaw, pausing momentarily to lightly grapes her chin. “See you soon?”

All she can manage in response is a nod. Taking one more moment to mourn what could have been, she rushes away from George, cursing those damn kids to hell.

“Excuse me professor - do you have a moment?”

Y/N’s hand pauses mid scribble, fingers practically snapping the quill she’s holding in half as she looks up to find none other than George Weasley standing in the doorway to her office. The smile that spreads across her mouth matches the one George is wearing and she pushes the papers she’d been grading, gesturing for him to come in.

“I think I may be able to spare a moment just for you,” she teases. Y/N stands up from behind her desk, watching George closely as she comes around to stand in front of him. “How in the hell did you get in here?”

George chuckles, stuffing his hands into his packers as he gives Y/N a shrug. “Turns out the secret passages Fred and I used to sneak out of the castle are just as helpful when trying to sneak in to it.”

Y/N tuts, shaking her head as if in shame. “George Weasley sneaking into Hogwarts. What would Fred have to say about that?”

“Fred snuck out plenty of times to go and see a cute girl, I reckon he’d understand me sneaking in to do the same.”

George’s boldness surprises Y/N, and she suddenly can’t make eye contact as her cheeks flush pink. A single finger comes to rest on the underside of her chin, slowly tilting Y/N’s face up so she and George are looking at each other once again. Her body feels electric as their eyes meet and a shiver runs down her spine.

“Hi,” George greets breathily after a moment of silence. The smile he gets in response causes a torrent of butterflies to erupt in his stomach and he can feel his heart pounding against his rib cage.

“Hi,” Y/N responds, voice barely above a whisper.

If you had told her all those years ago that someday she’d be standing here right now with George Weasley with his hand pressed against the side of her neck as his thumb skates across her jaw line she would have called you crazy. It seemed impossible that George would even give Y/N a second thought, let alone sneak back into the castle for just a moment with her. All of her dreams are coming true - and Y/N is too tempted to pinch herself to make sure it’s all real.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you,” George starts. The words move quickly out of his mouth, as if he’s trying to get them all out before he loses the confidence he has managed to scrounge up. “Like since that moment I saw you at the potion shop all those months ago. My one regret from our school days was that I never got the nerve to ask you out. And then when I never saw you in the shop or around Diagon Alley I figured I’d missed my chance. So when I saw you that day, standing in the middle of a shop I’d gone to hundreds of times over the years it felt like, I dunno it felt like.”

“A second chance,” Y/N finishes for him, voice lit with disbelief.

George grins, giving a small nod. “Yes, exactly like that. And suddenly you were every thought that occupied my mind. I couldn’t stop thinking about running into you again, and the interactions we had in school, what might happen between us now that we’d be living ten minutes from each other. You were just on a loop in my thoughts.”

“It was probably stupid of me,” George continues, eyes never leaving Y/N’s. “We’d had one conversation after years of not speaking and we were never really friends at school but I couldn’t help but feel-.”

“Hope,” she finished again. “And it wasn’t stupid of you, George. Because I felt the exact same way. Seeing you that day made me truly believe that taking that job at Hogwarts was my opportunity for a second chance. A second chance at finding my dream job, of finding my true home, of finding true love. You made me feel that George and I-.”

Except whatever Y/N was about to say disappears from her mind, as George takes the opportunity to interrupt her this time. Without a second thought he finally closes the distance between them, their mouths slotting together so perfectly it was like they were made for each other. Her hands find his shoulders as his find her neck, angling them so he can kiss her deeper.

And there’s still so many things they need to talk about and figure out. But in this moment the only thing Y/N can think about is George, and this weird but beautiful thing they’re about to discover.

#george weasley #george weasley imagine #george weasley fic #gw #harry potter fanfiction #golden #midnights: an anthology

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theewokingdead · 11 months

Text

Morning Sickness - Din Djarin x f!Reader (Another Way Universe)

Pairing: Din Djarin/The Mandalorian x f!Reader (Another Way Universe) Summary: Din learns some things about pregnancy while helping you through a bout of morning sickness. Word Count: 800+ Rating: No rating, blog is 18+. Content: Nausea/vomiting. Pregnancy. Tooth-rotting fluff. The usual teasing/banter. A/N: I found some stuff that I had written but didn't make the final cut when writing the main story. This takes place in the middle of Chapter 8 of "Another Way" but it can be read on its own. I miss writing for these two. I'll get to the epilogue eventually, I swear, so don't yell at me @pedropascalsx

Masterlist

Eyes fluttering open, you wake to find Din gone. Intent on finding him, you swing your legs over the edge of the bed. The second you sit up, your head starts to spin. Your stomach turns over, and it feels as though the contents of your last meal are now fighting their way back up through your throat. Taking steady breaths, you pray it will subside soon.

Mouth filling with saliva, and the taste of bile rising from the back of your throat, you know it's past the point of no return.

You stumble out of bed, barely able to keep your balance as you make your way to the bathroom. Your stomach convulses and you heave, emptying the contents of your stomach into the toilet. The retching is violent, and you feel like you're going to cough up your insides. Finally, the spasms subside, and you slump against the cool porcelain of the bowl, panting heavily.

You hear a rustling behind you, and you turn your head to see Din standing in the doorway, concern etched on his face.

"Are you okay?" he asks, crossing the room to kneel beside you.

You shake your head, unable to speak, and he rubs soothing circles on your back as you try to catch your breath. After a moment, you manage to sit up, and he hands you a damp washcloth to wipe your mouth.

"I'm sorry," you mutter, feeling embarrassed and weak.

Din shakes his head. "If anyone should be sorry it's me. I did this to you."

“Pretty sure we played an equal part in it.” You offer him a weak smile, which he returns. “I just hope this doesn’t last much longer.”

“Me too. Not sure I can stand to see you sick for another year or so.”

“Another year or so?” you repeat, your eyebrows screwed in confusion as you look at him. “What do you mean? We only have seven more months before the baby comes - if that.”

“What?” Din immediately question, his voice filled with shock and confusion.

“What do you mean ‘what?’ Pregnancy only lasts 40 weeks.”

“What?” he repeats.

You can’t help but laugh. “Haven’t you been around pregnant women, Din?”

“Yes, but I’ve never had a reason to care about the length of their, uh…”

“Gestation?” you question.

“Yeah. I just assumed it’s a long time, like banthas.”

“Wait a minute. You’re telling me you know the gestational period of a bantha, but not a human being?” you question, laughing. “Maker, Din. You never cease to surprise me. I mean, fuck, do I like a seven-foot-tall hairy beast that will someday drop a hundred-pound newborn?”

Din chuckles, his expression softening as he wraps an arm around your shoulders. "No, you're much more beautiful than a bantha," he says, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You lean into him, grateful for his love and support. “Good answer.”

“You think the little tadpole will let you get up?”

“Little tadpole?” you question.

“Better than bantha. Or ‘parasite’ as you so lovingly refer to our child.”

With a smirk, you reply, “Ah, is it because Gungans are born as tadpoles?”

Din sighs. “I set myself up for that, didn’t I?”

“You did.” You stand up, using the sink for support. “I just hope that doesn’t mean I have to give birth in a bog.”

Din chuckles, standing alongside you. “I'll make sure to find the most comfortable place for you to give birth, even if it means taking down an entire empire to do it."

You roll your eyes but can't help the fond smile that tugs at your lips. "You know, for a guy who claims he's not romantic, you sure do know how to make a girl feel special."

He stands up, towering over you, and leans in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. "You are special, and I'll do anything to make sure you and our tadpole are safe and happy."

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him into a deeper kiss, feeling a warmth spread through your body. In this moment, you forget the nausea and the discomfort, and all you can think about is how lucky you are to have this man by your side.

As he pulls away, he brushes a strand of hair behind your ear and gives you a mischievous grin. “And who knows, maybe giving birth in a bog will be a new experience for us. We can add it to our list of adventures.”

You laugh and shake your head. "I think I'll pass on that one, thank you very much."

Din pulls you in for another kiss, his hands sliding down to rest on your waist. You feel a familiar heat building between your legs, and you can tell he's feeling it too. “Maybe we should continue this in the bedroom," he suggests, his voice low and husky.

You nod, a flush spreading across your cheeks. “Lead the way, Mando.”

As he takes your hand and leads you back to bed, you can't help but feel grateful for this man, for this life you've created together, for the little tadpole growing inside of you. You know there will be more challenges ahead, more moments of discomfort and fear, but as long as you have Din by your side, you know you can do anything.

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal fanfiction #the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian fandom #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x reader #pedrostories #another way #catie writes

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psychovigilantewrites · 1 year

Text

It's Been Awhile

Pairing: Jason Todd/Reader

Word Count: 5,500

Rating: Explicit, there is sex, R18

Summary: Reader visits Jason after some time.

Masterlist | Ao3

A/N: Hey guys! It's been awhile, hasn't it. Sorry it's not a Red Who update, but I promise I have not abandoned it yet.

I am extremely rusty, because I haven't been reading nor writing much lately. I have a full time job now, and I'm on my way to paving my career. I still think of you guys a lot, though. So thank you so much for sticking with me till now. To the new followers, you won't see much activity here, but I will return from time to time to post or scroll or check up on things.

I'm so rusty that a 5000 word count felt so long to me. I remember when I was churning like, 12k word count within a week. Lol, I would love to try that out again. Anyway, enough rambling. I hope you all enjoy! This is the most I've written in a while.

You kicked an empty beer can aside and heard its metallic clink against the brick wall as you walked down the narrow alley.

From all the years you spent in alleyways, you got used to the smell and the suspicious puddles. It was dimly lit, the only light source coming from the apartment windows above you. You stopped below the fire escape and jumped, hands grasping the end of the metal ladder to pull it down so you could climb up.

You counted the floors. Four, seven… twelfth. You stopped a floor below your target so you could carefully creep up to the thirteenth. You peeked through your target’s opened window carefully. His apartment was brightly lit and clean. You noticed all the surfaces like the coffee table at the centre of the living room, and the small dining table at the far side of the apartment near the main entrance, were clear of any clutter or stains. The light grey sofa near the window where you were at looked new, with fluffed cushions arranged on the seats along with a beige throw blanket.

Your target had his bare back facing you, standing at the kitchen where he was putting away the dishes in the overhead cabinet. He was shirtless, so you could see the muscles of his back ripple and flex when he reached above his head. You climbed through the window silently and entered his apartment.

“Hello there-” you started, but immediately ducked to avoid the flying mug aimed at you but missing and crashed into pieces behind you. “Wow, rude.”

“Christ,” Jason swore when he realised who you were. “What the fuck? You scared the shit outta me.”

You grinned at him. “Not my fault you’re losing your touch. You really didn’t hear me?”

“I was never able to hear you, you know that,” he scowled and crossed his arms while walking towards you. “Take off your shoes, you’re dragging dirt all over my house.”

“Not until you clean up the glass.”

“Fine,” he rolled his eyes, grabbing a broom to sweep away the shards.

You sat down on his sofa. An awkward silence passed.

“So,” you looked around his apartment. It was familiar because you’ve been there so many times before, but he had obviously done some rearranging and bought new furniture. There were definitely more books on his shelf now. “It’s been a while.”

“Yeah.”

“Around… six months?”

“Without any messages or phone calls,” he frowned, looking at the floor that was now clean and clear.

“Jason,” you groaned, “You know I couldn’t.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he sighed, putting aside the dustpan. “It’s just- it was hard not knowing whether you were safe or not.”

“You think undercover has been easy for me too?” you demanded.

“I know it hasn’t- look, I don’t want to argue,” he admitted. He sat down on the sofa next to you. You felt the sofa dip at his weight. “I’ve been undercover too. I know how hard it is. I was just worried.”

You looked at him. His thick eyebrows were pulled down in a frown, his icy blue eyes staring at you intensely. He had a bruise that was healing on the upper corner of his left cheekbone, and a fresh new cut on his lower lip.

“You’re my best friend. You’re the only one I’ve known the longest. Not knowing whether you were dead or alive does things to a person,” he stressed.

“Well, I’m here now. Alive. And demanding you get me some liquor,” you winked.

He raised his eyebrows in surprise, but complied. “Since when did you start drinking casually?”

You hesitated. “Since Elisa.”

“I have whiskey, bourbon, gin, tequila and beer,” he listed the contents of his liquor cabinet.

“Gin, soda and lime, please,” you ordered. Jason immediately got to work, making you your cocktail. “Bring the bottle here as well. I might want a top up.”

He raised an eyebrow as he served you and put the bottle of gin down on the coffee table.

“Aww, you even put a little lime wedge. Cute,” you teased and sipped. “Yep, I was right. Did you always used to make your drinks this weak?”

“You never complained before,” he replied, watching you pour a little more gin in your glass. “The drinks in Cuba must be strong.”

You paused, lips still on the rim of the cup. Silence fell again, before you shrugged. “I’ve taken quite a liking to rum.”

You dug through the sling bag pouch you had across your body and took out a packet of cigarettes and a lighter.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Jason protested.

“Uh, I’m lightshing a shigarette,” you answered with the cigarette already on your lips.

“One, no smoking in my house,” he snatched the cigarette from you and threw it on the table, “ Two, did Elisa smoke too?”

“She didn’t and then she did,” you scowled, “How long have you quit?”

“Four months,” he said, “I use these now. It’s helped a lot. I suggest you do the same.”

He took out a bright pink cylindrical metal tube with a straw-like tip from the pocket of his sweatpants and sucked the end. He exhaled a thick cloud of white mist that smelled of-

You burst into laughter.

“What?” he huffed.

“I’m sorry, but right now I’m just imagining bumping into you in a dark alleyway, all big and muscly, with your leather jacket and combat boots, and suddenly you smell like- what’s that, watermelon?”

“Yeah, so what?” he pouted, “I don’t even have the urge to smoke anymore.”

“You’re right, that’s good,” you smiled, “I’m proud of you.”

“Whatever,” he rolled his eyes, “So, what are you doing here? You back for good?”

“Officially, my role in the mission has ended,” you explained, “But I might have to go back from time to time… And…”

“You’re leaving again?” he guessed solemnly.

You pursed his lips and looked at him. “How much do you know about what I was doing?”

“Not much,” he began, “Just that you were undercover in Cuba, leading some sort of coup?”

“Not exactly leading a coup,” you corrected, “I was hired by a private organisation to infiltrate and, uh, get rid of corrupted leaders internally, and replace them with clean people so that the citizens can have a chance at improving the country.”

“So… American intervention to reestablish democracy and change regimes?” Jason smirked, “Like Cuba in the sixties? Bolivia, Ghana, Angola, and my personal favourite, Iraq?”

“It’s not like that,” you defended, “And not American. Not CIA. Not United Nations. Jason, these people are real. They have no other agenda but to give people freedom. We’re made of many countries and nationalities- mostly third world whose countries have been ravished by colonialism and intervention. Think Che Guevara, but bigger. Richer. Way richer. More organized. They’ve been recruiting ex-agents and spies, people who can’t be blackmailed or bribed with money. People who care about change.”

“So that’s what you’ve been doing?” he realised, “Been playing Spy Kids with communists.”

“We’re not calling ourselves that,” you argued, “And we’re not going for the communist revolution. We want to go for a more organic change.”

“Why are you telling me all this?” he sighed in defeat.

“Because… I want you to come with me next,” you positioned your body to fully face him, crossing your legs on the sofa.

“What?” he asked incredulously, “And what, abandon Gotham?”

“Gotham doesn’t need people like you and me, Jay,” you whispered, “It needs Batman, and Nightwing, and Robin, and all of them. Gotham needs hope. People like us don’t belong here.”

“People like us?”

“You know what I mean,” you said sternly, “Our skills are needed and appreciated elsewhere.”

Another moment of silence of you and Jason just glaring at each other. You saw the way Jason’s eyes examined your expression, your body language. He knew you were completely serious about this.

You broke eye contact and took a few sips of your drink, feeling the contradictory refreshment and burn.

“Just think about it. You have time. I’m on a decently long break before going to the next mission,” you leaned back against the cushion and closed your eyes, “Mmm, I want to go to a nice spa. Get some new clothes. Watch movies. Source for some cool gadgets from Bruce. Spend some time with the family.”

“For how long?”

“A couple of months.”

You heard Jason sigh again. That’s how it was with Jason. Just constant sighing.

“Fine, I’ll think about it.”

You opened your eyes and looked at him. “Really?”

He was looking down into his own cocktail. “I don’t think I can go another six months not knowing what the fuck you’re doing, where you are, whether you’re dead or alive. So, yes. I’ll fuckin’ think about it.”

You felt bad. From the moment you told him you were leaving to go undercover, from the moment you went silent, you felt immensely guilty for leaving him. It was your first time without contact with him, and hell, it was difficult for you too. He was your first friend, your first family. Your life would not have been your life without Jason Todd.

“Hey,” you said softly, reaching out to his face to make him look at you. “I missed you.”

He simply stared. He looked like he was struggling to say something, or struggling to stop himself from saying something.

Then, he looked away. “So, how was it?”

“Pretty fucking cool,” you admitted, relaxing back into your usual self. “I felt like I was in a movie. Being undercover without anyone knowing sucks ass, though. Couldn’t be myself. Couldn’t do whatever I wanted to do, say whatever I wanted to say. Fuck, it was so hard. That’s when the drinking started.”

He chuckled. “Liar.”

“Excuse me?” you turned to him.

“Liar,” he stated, “That’s not how the drinking started. Something happened.”

“A lot of things happen when you’re undercover, Jason,” you snapped.

“I’m just saying,” he smirked, “You may have gotten used to lying to everyone around you. But you can’t lie to me.”

You hated how right he was.

“Put on some tunes,” you demanded, “Like I said, I couldn’t be myself. So tonight, I am going to drink and I am going to do whatever I want, and say whatever I want.”

“And as always, I’m the victim,” he groaned.

“Hush, you love it,” you giggled.

Jason stood up, grumbling. “Just take off your damn shoes.”

You complied, kicking off your boots and placed them away against a wall. Jason had always been so neat and tidy, so you respected that whenever you were in his space. He was extremely particular about hygiene as well. You were used to having your shoes off in his house, to him sanitizing his hands whenever he took off his gloves, to him always wiping surfaces with isopropyl alcohol.

He was always so well groomed too, and you never needed to worry about toiletries whenever you stayed at his. Whatever you needed, or hell, didn’t need, he had them. You remembered when you were teens and you were complaining about acne. He taught you all about skincare, haircare. About shaving versus waxing. About scrubbing between your toes and behind your ears when you shower.

And Jason showered every single day, since he was always engaged in physical activities.

And because of that, Jason always smelled so fucking good.

You caught a whiff of the scent you were so familiar with when he sat back down next to you after turning on the speakers and grabbing two bags of chips. He smelled like the cologne he wore, which was a deep pine scent with undertones of chocolate and sage. It mixed well with the refreshing raspberry of his shampoo.

“You met Grayson yet?” he ran his fingers through his hair.

“Mmm?” you mumbled, still lost in his scent. “No. You’re the first.”

“Good,” he grumbled back.

“Didn’t want to make you jealous or anything,” you giggled, poking his cheek.

He swatted away your hand, but a small smile played on his lips. “Dunno what you’re talking about.”

You wanted to retort, but let it go and took another big gulp from your glass. You topped the ice with some more gin and squeezed the lime in. Talking about Jason’s weird competitive streak with Dick would always end up with Jason sulking. You felt a little tipsy already.

“Hmm,” you hummed. And then, you had a brilliant idea. You stood up and you took your tight black t-shirt off, leaving you in your black bra.

“Why are you stripping?” Jason raised his voice.

“It’s summer, and it’s hot,” you shrugged, sitting back down closer to him. He was also shirtless, and you felt the heat radiating off his skin. “And it’s not like you haven’t seen me naked before.”

“It’s different when you’re bleeding from a stab wound and I’m pouring vodka on it,” he retorted.

“Whatever,” you scoffed, “ And you know what? This place was a smoking area before I left. And I told you that tonight, I’m going to be doing whatever I want. So.”

You reached forward to your pack of cigarettes Jason threw on the coffee table, but he grabbed your hand.

“Nuh-uh. No.”

You glanced at his grip on your wrist and back up at him. “You really want to do this, Todd?”

His expression changed to some sort of smug look that he always had when presented with a challenge. “Let’s see whether Cuba made you rusty, then.”

You smirked at him. And then, you swung your other fist towards his face, but he blocked your punch with the palm of his free hand.

You lifted yourself off the couch and used your body weight and momentum to catch him off his balance. It worked, he was on the floor, but he was so strong and it was difficult to free your arms from his grip.

So, you played dirty.

You carefully kneed his groin. Gently. You didn’t want to actually hurt him. Just to discombobulate him.

Jason swore, and his grip on you loosened just a teeny tiny bit. But that was all you needed to release yourself by twisting his arm to an angle that forced him to turn his body face down to the floor.

You continued twisting.

“Ow, ow, ow!” He complained.

“Do you yield?” You breathed.

“Yes! I yield, holy shit,” he whined.

You released him and greeted him with a shit eating grin when he propped himself back up. You had always been the better fighter. Even though Jason was bigger and stronger, you were more lithe, fast, and flexible. You used momentum, anatomical range of motion, and precise techniques in your martial art. That’s why you were always silent and could sneak up on him. That’s why you used to be the stealthy assassin, while Jason favoured loud guns and explosives.

“You know you will lose, yet you always challenge me,” you pointed out, “That’s why I think you’re a brat.”

“Like a spoiled kid?” he said, “Since when?”

“Not in that context,” you rolled your eyes. “Like, in bed.”

“Huh?” Jason sat down and looked up at you with genuine confusion. You joined him on the sofa again. This time, he didn’t stop you from lighting your cigarette. You inhaled. You exhaled.

“You know, like you have the dominant and the submissive,” you started to explain, “A brat is under the submissive category.”

“The hell?” he protested, “I am not submissive.”

“Maybe at first,” you smirked slyly, slowly closing the gap between you and him. “That’s what a brat is. You like to fight. You’re stubborn. You like to say no. But ultimately, you want to betamed.”

To make a point, you crawled towards him and boldly straddled his waist.

“Wh-what- what the fuck are you doing?” Jason sputtered, a blush creeping onto his cheeks.

“That’s why you like to fight me, right?” you continued, resting one palm flat on his bare chest, your other on his shoulder while you held your cigarette. “You want me to make you submit.”

You blew smoke onto his face.

“Stop that,” he gripped the side of your arms, “Did Cuba make you flirty too?”

“I always flirt with you.”

“Not like this,” he shook his head. “What, did Elisa have to seduce men? Women?”

“Unfortunately, no,” you pouted, “Elisa had to keep things strictly professional between all her assets.”

The truth was you couldn’t stop thinking about him.

“So, it’s been a while,” he stated.

“It’s been a while,” you agreed. “How about you? Any women? Men?”

“Please,” he scoffed, “Just Grayson being an ass.”

“So, it’s been a while for you, too,” you teased.

“But I’m not a perv like you,” he huffed.

“We can change that,” you leaned in closer, watching the way he had subtly wet his lips, thinking you wouldn’t notice.

“Stop,” he repeated, “You’re drunk.”

“Not drunk enough to make you yield.”

“I don’t want you to do anything you’re going to regret in the morning,” he pressed.

“Why would you think I’m going to regret anything?” You asked.

“Because you’ve never done this before,” he frowned, “This is coming out of nowhere.”

You’ve been pining for him ever since you hit puberty.

“Do you think you’re going to regret it in the morning?”

He looked away from your intense, questioning gaze. “I don’t know. Maybe. I don’t want to ruin our friendship.”

That was the reason you gave yourself for so long. You didn’t want to tell Jason how you felt because you were scared he wouldn’t see you the same anymore. Or that he would feel self-conscious around you. That he would reject you. That because of your selfish feelings, your relationship would be ruined.

You put out the cigarette in your glass.

“When I was Elisa Martinez,” you began slowly, “I couldn’t be myself, obviously. I couldn’t drink my favourite drink, or watch my favourite shows. You know how deep undercover is like, right? The complete erasure of your identity. Your history. I know some people who actually started to believe their cover story, to the point where they forgot who they really were.”

You paused to make sure you wouldn’t regret whatever you were going to say next.

“Elisa Martinez didn’t know Jason Todd. She never grew up with him. She never… fell in love with him…”

You noticed Jason’s eyes widened, and his grip on you tightened ever so slightly.

“And it was horrible, Jason,” you expressed, “I felt so lonely. So one day when I was alone in my apartment in Havana, I told myself that I wouldn’t be one of those people who gets lost in their cover identities. Unsure and confused about who they were. I vowed that when I got back here, I would truly be myself. No more hiding my feelings or my beliefs. No more stopping myself from getting what I wanted. Because I didn’t realise how having your own identity was a privilege that people took for granted.”

His eyes softened, but he still looked unsure of how to respond.

“So no,” you stated firmly, “I won’t regret it in the morning. Even if you don’t feel the same way, and you don’t want anything to do with me after this, I will not regret telling you how I feel. Because six months of struggling with identities was enough.”

Still straddling him, you crossed your arms to make a point.

“Uh,” he cleared his throat. He let go of his grip on you and ran his hand through his hair again. A habit that you noticed he did when he was either stressed or nervous. “Wow. I mean. I didn’t expect that at all.”

“I know it seems like it’s coming out of nowhere, but I’ve felt like this for years,” you confessed.

And that Jason did what you didn’t expect him to do. He reached out to cup your face, and then smiled at you.

You learned that Jason had many types of smiles. The smile that was really more threatening than it was comforting. The smile that meant he had a devious idea in his head. The smile that didn’t reach his eyes, when he was shaking hands with someone he didn’t like. The smile when he found something funny. The smile when he was thinking of the past.

And the smile that he only reserved for you.

It wasn’t just the upturned corner of his lips that made the smile. It was also the softness of his eyes, the relaxing of his brows. And the actual smile was just a brief moment, followed by his gaze into your eyes. He smiled like that at you during the first time you successfully threw a punch. And that time when you won first place at the science fair. Sometimes he would smile like that when you went on about history, and geopolitics, and the latest episode of your favourite show.

“Me too,” he simply said.

And there it was. The last time you felt this happy was when Lady Shiva told you she had nothing left to teach you.

“But you’re wrong about one thing,” Jason broke you out of your bliss.

“Huh?”

Suddenly he grabbed your hips tightly and threw you off of him, onto the empty space of the sofa. You gasped in surprise at the sudden movement, and before you knew it, he was on top of you, holding you down. He put his face above yours, lips only inches away that you could feel his hot breath.

“I am not a brat.”

And then he kissed you.

His cut lip grazed yours softly at first before sucking in your bottom lip with force. He broke off the kiss and grinned at you.

You narrowed your eyes at him.

And before he knew it, you had flipped him over, causing him to land on his back onto the floor with a loud thud.

Your knee was at his crotch again, a silent threat for him to stay still.

But you knew what had Jason blushing was your hand around his throat.

“Tsk, tsk, Jay,” you whispered in his ear, making a point to softly brush your lips on his lobe. “Don’t be naughty. You know you can’t take me.”

“I- wha-” he sputtered, and then tried to move.

“Nuh uh,” you warned, putting more pressure on his crotch with your knee, “Stay still.”

He continued to look at you in surprise, or confusion, or wonder. You weren’t sure.

What you were sure about was that you felt his cock begin to harden against you.

You chuckled softly to yourself. The truth was, you made it all up just to antagonize him. You didn’t really think he was a brat at first. In fact, all of your previous fantasies were of him dominating you, choking you, pounding into you while your hands were tied to the bed posts. Now that you knew he was into this, though, you didn’t mind. Not one bit.

“I’m going to get up. But you,” you squeezed his neck a little tighter, “You stay like this and do what I say, okay?”

You felt him gulp under your grip and then he nodded.

You stood up and put your hands on your hips. Looking down at him, you appreciated the view.

His hard chest was going up and down fast as he was panting. You saw a flush grow from his neck to his cheeks. Your gaze went down his abs, to his crotch, where you saw the outline of his hard cock and a small dark spot at the tip.

“Take off your pants for me,” you commanded.

He just stared at you.

You raised an eyebrow. “Do I need to threaten you?”

You gently stepped on his cock with your toes.

“Okay, okay!” he hurriedly slid off his sweatpants, revealing his hard on.

You never saw his cock before. You sort of knew it would be large based on the outlines whenever he wore sweatpants or boxers. But, wow.

He was perfectly long, and perfectly thick, and perfectly uncut. Though, his foreskin was now stretched back, revealing his head that was red and pulsating, desperate to be touched.

“Hey, my eyes are up here,” he grinned, his confidence and smug attitude back.

You sat back down on the couch and crossed your legs, making him confused.

“Well?” you prompted, “Start stroking.”

“What?” he asked, “Down here?”

“Mhmm,” you hummed, “Go on.”

He slowly reached for his cock and gave it a squeeze, eliciting a small moan from his lips. You bit your lips at the sound and the sight.

Fuck, he was so hot. You had dreamed of watching him jerk himself off for so long, and now there he was, sprawled on the floor at your feet.

He started to really stroke himself now, his eyes fluttered close and his mouth parted in heavy breaths.

“Fuck,” he gasped.

You saw that his cock was now slick and wet with his precum. You wanted to taste it so bad. You wanted him to shove his cock down your throat and mercilessly fuck your face until you gagged and cried.

Not today. He will have his turn some other time.

“Okay, stop,” you said in a sing-song voice.

“Wh-what? No,” he refused, still fucking his fist.

“Baby,” you stood up, “I said stop.”

He groaned and opened his eyes, his arm stilling around his dick.

You proceeded to take off your jeans, and your bra, causing your breasts to fall. Exposed to him for the first time, Jason was actually smacking his lips.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful. I want to touch you,” he whined and moved to get up.

“No,” you denied, “Stay down there for me.”

You walked over to his head, placed your feet on either side, and then dropped to your knees so you were hovering your pussy right above his lips.

“This is fine too,” he mumbled, hands going straight to your ass, kneading them. Then, he took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of your arousal.

“Mmm, you smell divine,” he whined.

That did it. You just knew that you were drenched.

He started to mouth you through the fabric, kissing your folds, nibbling on them.

“Please, take them off,” he begged.

You complied, only because you couldn’t stand not being touched. The moment you returned to your position, Jason attacked you with his mouth.

“Fuck!” you gasped.

It was as if he was making out with your pussy. Wet lips on wet lips, he licked you everywhere, from between your folds, to your opening, to your clit. It was like he was starved for you. Hungry for you. All the while, the sound of wetness and his muffled moans filled the room.

“Jason,” you sighed. You felt the familiar warmth spread at the base of your core.

He knew what you wanted. You felt him focus on your clit with his tongue, and then a finger entering you slowly.

You let out a high pitch whine when he started finger fucking you while ravishing your clit at the same time.

A second finger.

He was hitting the right spot, so deep inside you. You had thought about this as well. Whenever you saw his fingers on a trigger, or that time when he was making pizza dough and kneading. You imagined his thick, calloused fingers inside you, fucking you the way he was right now.

He quickened his pace and added more pressure to your clit.

You knew he knew you were close. You could feel it. Your body was tense, and you knew you were tightening around his fingers. You gripped his hair with both your hands, because you just needed to hold onto something.

And then you were coming.

You didn’t know you were screaming until you felt a gush of wetness between your legs, splashing everywhere.

Jason fucking Todd made you squirt.

“Holy shit, I’m so sorry,” you apologised. You stood up too quickly and didn’t realise your legs were jelly, so you ended up tripping onto the wet floor next to him.

“That was so hot, don’t be sorry,” he looked at you incredulously. His face was glistening with your juices.

And fuck, was that a sight to behold.

You couldn’t help but grab him by the neck and pull him in for a kiss. You tasted yourself on him.

He crawled on top of you, sucking your lips, pushing his tongue into your mouth. One hand roamed your body while the other propped him up above you. He squeezed your breasts and your nipples, and went down to your waist, between your legs. He gripped your thigh from below and pushed it up so you were spread open.

He hooked your leg on his shoulder.

And without warning, he pushed his cock into your wet, sensitive pussy.

“Fuck!” you screamed as he bottomed inside you.

He filled you up so perfectly, that you never wanted to be empty ever again. He stretched you out so beautifully, that you thought your walls would just be molded into shape specifically for his cock.

“Hnngh,” he groaned, “You feel so fucking good. So fucking tight.”

You felt him thrust deep inside you, reaching all the spots that made you writhe in pleasure. He began pounding you hard, wet slaps made even wetter as you leaked all over his cock.

You weren’t gasping for air. It was so intense that you couldn’t breathe. Your mouth was opened in a silent scream until you actually had to remind yourself to inhale.

There were no words that you could form in that moment. Just absolutely filthy, vulgar sounds that rang through his apartment.

Through teary eyes, you watched him above you.

He was panting, breathing hard. You weren’t sure whether the moisture on his face was from sweat or your juices earlier. His dark hair had fallen down to poke his eyes, his brows pulled down in a frown. His chest had beads of sweat dripping, trickling down to his abs.

He moved his hips with precise and sharp movements. Every thrust into you was accompanied by gasps and whispers of words you couldn’t hear.

“You look so fucking beautiful,” he praised breathily, “I want to watch you come again.”

It wouldn’t take too long.

You were already feeling like you were going to unravel. The heat pooling again, even more intense than your previous orgasm.

Jason increased his pace, and then reached down to your pussy to thumb your clit.

You screamed.

It was like a wave that pulled you down and released you. You felt your body tighten and your walls clench and unclench. You felt hot liquid release from your core, just like waves crashing.

Before you knew it, you felt empty. Jason had pulled out and jerked himself off over you.

He came long and hard in a loud groan. White ribbons of cum shot out of his pulsating cock, reaching all the way to your face.

He collapsed next to you on the floor, huffing and panting.

You felt drowsy all of a sudden, but so fucking relaxed.

“Wow,” you breathed.

“Mmm,” he mumbled, “Can’t move. Can’t think. Shhh.”

You giggled and scooted closer to him, pressing yourself onto his sweaty, sticky skin and rested your head on his chest.

You felt his heartbeat drum against his ribcage.

He rested his arm on your head and played with your hair.

“I can’t believe our first time was on the floor,” he complained.

“I think it describes us perfectly,” you closed your eyes and smiled.

He kissed the top of your head. After a beat, he asked, “Will you tell me what happened in Cuba?”

“One day,” you told him, “I need time to process it as well.”

“Fair enough,” he responded, “So, uh. Are we like, official then?”

“If you want to be.”

“Do you want to be?”

“I do,” you admitted, “I’ve been pining for you for a long time.”

“Me too,” he confessed, “We should have done this sooner.”

“I don’t think so,” you thought, “I think right now is the perfect time. We figured ourselves first, we explored what we wanted to do. We found our reason. Well, I did, at least.”

“So you’re really serious about this then?” he asked, “Fully committed?”

“One hundred percent,” you stated, “I think that we can make real change. Slow change. But change nonetheless.”

“Okay, then,” he sighed.

“Okay?”

“Okay, I’m in,” he said, “I can’t promise you that I will stay for the cause. I can’t promise you that I will even believe in it. But I can’t do the silence again. You have no idea how difficult it was for me, these past six months.”

You frowned. You wondered what happened. You will ask another time.

“But I can promise you that you will always have me,” he continued, “I don’t know what this is, and what these missions need you-or us- to do, but you will always have my support.”

You felt deeply moved. “Thank you,” you whispered.

You didn’t have to worry about your identity anymore. About being confused, about being corrupted by the roles you had to play.

Because as long as Jason was there, you were you.

#jason todd #dc comics #red hood #jason todd/reader #y/n #jason todd x reader #red hood/reader #batman #batfamily

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netherfeildren · 8 months

Text

Joel

A Fear of God story : Series Masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x OFC

Summary: The thought sounds on the anvil of your mind every night at four am on the dot, the song of grasshoppers and slumbering, fatherless children singing around you; I am lost, and if I read a little bit confusing, it is only because I am confused amidst the battleground of my grief, and it is difficult to find my way back now that he is not here to guide me.

A/N: this was only written for myself, but i’ve decided to share with you, as well. if you’re a fear of god reader please know that this isn’t part of my official story line, and again — only an exercise for myself, but as this is written about birdie i’ve decided to include it as a part of the birdie’s house anthology. i apologize for any confusion or emotional turmoil this might cause, but rest assured that i’m desperately hoping to have something else up for birdie and joel for his birthday and that i plan to continue to write for them after that as well.

Content Warnings: Character death; Grief/Mourning; Description of death/injury; Unreliable narrators

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 2.1K

Read on AO3

JOEL

The billboard said “The End Is Near”

I turned around, there was nothing there

Yeah, I guess the end is here

Phoebe Bridgers, I Know the End

The week before it happened, you watched a pack of wolves take down a moose. Old and stalwart and with a sort of strength only an animal that stands apart from all others in the hierarchy of nature can hold. Something unrelenting about a creature like that, that was made all the more shocking for the way the wolves had surrounded the old thing, tricked and felled the beast that for so long had stood solitary and unmoving.

There were so many things you knew about Joel after all these years. He was a father, a husband, a brother, a friend. Once he’d been a monster. Everything about him had been red. He’d tried not to cause harm. He’d failed more than he’d succeeded.

He had loved you. You think, more than any creature had loved another in all of man’s history. Or… at least sometimes it had felt like that. He had made you feel like that.

He is killed in the seventh year of your life together. Only seven little years which seem like nothing in the face of everything. Nothing in the face of the destruction of the whole world, and then the rebirth of it right here in this farm house in Wyoming, but which you know, no matter what they might seem like in the aftermath, were really everything, the only time that has ever mattered.

You remember that sometimes when you’d look around the kitchen table, the girls sitting around laughing and screeching and raucous with so much joy it seemed imaginary and untouchable, it felt like the whole world was sat existing around that oak table he’d made for you. The whole world right here at our kitchen table, Joel.

You remember the last time you heard his voice, right before he went out into the frigid snow to look for Ellie: Don’t you love me, Birdie bird?

Oh, shut up. And then whispered right into the reddened sea shell of his ear, Here is what I see in your eyes right now: myself, reflected back at me – more love than has ever existed before in all history. And then his laugh – you’re laughing and when you laugh I want to carve the face of the world in your image. Lena zooming by your legs as you kiss for the last time, a blue ribbon in her hair.

Half a century from now, no one will remember us, but I will never forget you.

Remember the first time we met? Bated breath and racing heart, and the sound of the rest of your life ringing in your ears.

Remember the stitches in your palm? The first time I took you inside of me and all the times thereafter? When you pulled our first daughter from my body – and then the two others? Her first birthday? The countless birthdays after that? Remember the endless happiness so intense it was almost painful sometimes? Remember how much I love you?

But of course, he cannot. He’s not here anymore, and nothing hurts worse than the memory of joy when you’re living through grief. The thought sounds on the anvil of your mind every night at four am on the dot, the song of grasshoppers and slumbering, fatherless children singing around you; I am lost, and if I read a little bit confusing, it is only because I am confused amidst the battleground of my grief, and it is difficult to find my way back now that he is not here to guide me.

They’d hurt him so badly. Fractured him in a way that not even your hands could mend, your years of study and practice futile in the face of such destruction. He’d fought hard, he’d tried to get away. This is the least comforting thing you could ever imagine.

What does it do to a person to be confronted with the inequity of their purpose? To have worked tirelessly for so many years only to fail when the moment was most dire.

Fracture of a different but equally devastating nature. And that moment of final realization, that there was nothing to be done – his bones had carried him for so long, you rest now, we’ll be okay, whispered into his mangled ear, half a chunk missing, savaged. You did good, Joel. You did good, my love.

The sound of Ellie’s voice telling herself over and over and over again that he was okay; he’s okay, he’s okay, he’s okay.

And she’d said to you: I wasted so much time being angry at him, for what? For loving me too much? For keeping me alive? For making a decision that now, with the clarity of age and a child of my own, I would have made exactly the same way? I wish I could walk in his shoes through that hospital all those years ago. I’d take his exact same steps – not a single pace different. And now he’s dead. And all that anger was for nothing. And our reconciliation feels so fraught, so meaningless in the face of all that time now. No matter that we’d had years after to be together, to be a family. All I can focus on now is the time lost, the sight of his crushed skull, the night I pushed him away before you, his face full of pain and regret. And the sound of his screams at the end.

Ellie tells you: I remember the sound of his screams better than anything else. The sound of him screaming out for me, for you Birdie – Birdie, Birdie, my Birdie. Begging for help, but actually, I’m not sure, she says. I’m not sure if that really happened or if my nightmares imagined it.

[I still think of you on your birthday. I’m sorry for everything, she thinks, when she lays in the grass with her sisters and looks for shapes in the clouds without him now. I only see you in the spaces between them. And she asks God why He didn’t work harder to save him. And He spits in her face and asks why she didn’t do the same.]

So, there are still our children. There is still Ellie. This family you’ve gifted me. The whole world abandoned here at our kitchen table. How can death exist when that exists? How can your death exist when they’re still here?

Don’t stop to think. Don’t interrupt the scream.

And you tell yourself, no this wasn’t supposed to happen, but the universe laughs and grips you by the throat; the gladiator scream goes on. Salt the earth, there’s nothing to return to.

And yet… that isn’t true either. Four little faces look up at you. Three sets of his eyes.

You were furious at the sun the day after he died. How could it just continue to rise as if nothing had happened?

And after all that, it is like this: You scream for seven days and seven nights.

You don’t get out of bed for thirty days.

You cry every single night for a year.

This is different. A strange and terrified sort of place. What does it mean to lose the basis of your entire existence?

And Ellie? Ellie, Ellie, Ellie, Ellie, Ellie. What is Ellie going to do without him? How is she going to be okay? The sound of her cries: Don’t let me be alone. Please, God, don’t let me be alone. I never wanted to end up alone. You need to make sure she’s okay, you need to take care of her the way that he would, the way that he’d want you to.

Ellie loses her mind for a little bit. After your thirty days in bed, she calls her turn, tells you and Dina that she’s leaving, that she’s going. That she’ll bring you back a vengeance you could never want and lay it at your feet, and you cup her chin gentle in your palm, and ask, What does it matter now, honey? Connie’s voice ringing in your memory. He’s gone now, what difference would it make?

She tells you that he would have done it for her, and you cannot refute such a claim. He would. He’d do much worse. He’d turn himself back into that monster we both know he had inside of him.

“So I need to do this.”

And you tell her: “I’m begging you not to. Me, who belonged to him, who knew him in a way no one else in the whole world did. I’m asking you not to. I’m still here. The girls are still here. We need you. We need you as a reminder of him.”

“You’ll remember him anyways,” she tells you, which is true.

“But you’ll make the memory all the better,” And so she does not go, for a time.

Ellie stays, and you have a funeral surrounded by the people of Jackson who respected a man who was good. A man who took himself for a monster for so long, even though he never said it out loud, but you knew, you saw. All that time apart, all that fear, fear, fear, the very fear of God struck into his heart, afraid of what he was, of what the world and a little girl with green eyes more than thirty years ago had made him into, but then, look at what we’d turned around and made together.

And you whisper to the apparition of him in your dreams: Joel if you were a monster, surely it was some sort of divine monstrosity.

So many people leave remembrances at the gate of the farm, the whole of Jackson. His brother, holding you up gripped beneath the elbows so as to not frighten your children, and Ellie is crying but trying to pretend she’s not, which somehow makes it worse than if she were to throw herself at the base of his coffin and howl.

You give her his jacket after that, and she smells like him all the time until the day she doesn't. Until the day it’s been so long since the last time that he was alive that his scent fades and leaves forever. She wears that jacket everywhere, to work, to hunt, to bed. Leaving her wife, leaving her family, leaving her sisters, leaving you because eventually she does – leave, and she wears his jacket. An inevitability like so many other things in life, you’re unable to keep her forever, and for a time she does go.

And you will never forget him, you will never move on, you will never stop telling your daughters about him. He lives on in them. And you wonder why it is that no one ever talks about the physically intimate aspect of grief? Of missing your person and wanting them and needing them, and your body physically craving relief from that singular person and never being able to achieve it fully ever again to completion like he could give it to you because he’s just not here.

He was, in every way, all that anyone could ever be.

I cried every single day for a year. The day I stopped, I put him inside of a drawer within myself and was never able to move myself to tears again.

Seven years since then, and you go to his grave for what you tell yourself will be the last time, recognize the lie for what it is, a single slab of carved stone, and you think, he doesn’t belong here, even still after all these years, and yet this is the only place he will ever be again.

He should have been made into a redwood, the tallest thing in the entire world. Let him be a tree. You’d climb and climb and climb, like that night with Beth, so long ago you can barely remember the sound of her voice most days. You’d climb, and he’d protect you one more time like he had so many times before.

Joel, years ago, when we were first married, I had a strange dream: I’d had to walk down a staircase that led far beneath the earth. As I traversed it, I had to move through all of our happiest memories, the births of our daughters, the birthdays and celebrations and the long nights together, dinners, breakfasts and laughter, lazy afternoons at the lake, in bed together, still endlessly fascinated with each other despite all the times we’d found ourselves in that exact position. But when I reached the end, I’d be able to come upon our worst moment, see what it was in preparation, perhaps, for what would come to pass.

I feel as though I have finally reached the bottom of that staircase, and part of me would like nothing more than to have never begun the journey down, but had I not, then I would have not lived through all the rest of it. And in the end, that was worth everything else.

That last night again, in my memory: Don’t you love me, Birdie bird?

Close your eyes, he whispers, it’ll be worth it, the last taste of his mouth.

My eyes are still closed.

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#FoG fic #Joel miller #the last of us #joel miller x original character #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller angst #the last of us fanfiction #character study #ellie williams #joel miller character study #ellie williams character study

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absurdthirst · 1 year

Text

Turkey, Dressing & Fake Boyfriends {Dieter Bravo x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 28.2k

Warnings: Fake dating, mentions of drugs, mentions of sex, masturbation, physical violence (one punch), oral sex (female receiving), unprotected sex, angst

Comments: Plans to visit your parents for Thanksgiving go awry when your boss, Dieter Bravo insists on joining you. The problem is...you kind of told your parents that you were dating the actor. Now he going to play the role of a lifetime and the lines between acting and real life are blurring quickly.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

|| MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

“So I’ve made sure that there’s plenty of snack foods in the kitchen and all your favorite restaurants are already organized on UberEats and DoorDash in case nothing is appealing.” You check through your list of things to go over with Dieter before you leave. Even though you know that despite your next warning, he will be contacting you for every little thing. “Remember, I’m going to be unavailable for the next seven days. So don’t call me to ask where the toilet paper is, I made sure to stock every bathroom. It’s under the sink where it always is.”

Dieter follows you, finally realizing that you are telling him you’re leaving. “Where the hell are you going?” He growls, the fog of his latest high lifting and he doesn’t want you to go.

“To my parent's house for Thanksgiving.” You remind him of what you said earlier.

Dieter frowns, “that’s not till next month.”

You snort, “it’s this Thursday.”

He frowns even more, unable to remember the last time he attended a Thanksgiving. He hasn’t celebrated the holiday since before his parents died. With no family, he’s always just been alone and high, desperate to avoid the holidays. “You can’t go!” He whines, not wanting you to leave him alone. “I demand you don’t go.”

“I’ve had these plans for the last six months.” You huff, shaking your head and frowning back at him. You had halfway expected him to pitch a fit but you had been hoping that you could avoid it this time. “I haven’t seen my family in over a year and I’m flying out tomorrow.” You hate the pout on his face but you aren’t staying in L.A. “You will be fine. I’ve made sure you have everything you could want, even your cocaine.”

Dieter stomps his foot in protest, acting like the petulant child he can be. "No! You can't go! I don't - I won't let you. If you go....you're fired." He declares, even though he would never do that. You're the only person who will put up with his shit.

Your brow arches up as you stare at him. “Fire me?” That pisses you off when you are at his beck and call nearly 24/7 and deal with his 2AM calls when he’s lonely and can’t sleep. “Because I want to spend Thanksgiving with my family?”

Dieter nods, his face twisted up in frustration. “Yes!” He insists, making you decide to call his bluff.

“Fine, fire me.” You lock your phone and turn around to start gathering up your stuff.

Dieter stares at you in shock, unable to believe that hasn’t made you stay. “Fine.” He spits back, “then you’re taking me with you. I refuse to spend another Thanksgiving alone. You are taking me to your parents’ house for the week. You can take me with you so I can experience a proper holiday. I can’t be alone. You won’t leave me alone. I won’t allow it.”

Now it’s your turn to be shocked. Immediately feeling your stomach clench and your cheeks heat up. You can’t take Dieter home. You would be absolutely mortified. Not because of how he behaves, but because of the white lie you had told your family three years ago. “N-no!” You practically shout it. “You can’t meet my parents, you can never meet my parents!”

Dieter scoffs, "why? Are you embarrassed of me?" He gestures to his purposely tatty clothing. "I can be put together. I have more goddamn money than all of the fuckers in your small ass town put together and I -" He cuts himself off, knowing he's acting like a prick. "Why?" He asks after clearing his throat.

You can tell his feelings are hurt, the wounded look in his eyes giving him away. Dieter always lashes out when someone hurts him. You blow out an embarrassed sigh and squirm slightly. “Because I toldmyfamilyweweredating.” You mumble under your breath.

“What?” Dieter demands, making you roll your eyes.

“Because I lied to them and told them that we were dating!” You hiss, mortified you just had to tell your boss the truth.

Dieter frowns, “what? Why the hell did you tell them that?” He is processing, unsure of why you told them that, especially since he’s your boss. “Aren’t you asexual?” He asks and it’s your turn to look at him incredulously. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that, nothing at all, but I’ve never heard you mention a boyfriend or a girlfriend. I just - I figured that dating or sex wasn’t your thing. Is that why?”

“I don’t have time to date.” You huff, pointing your finger at him. “I have a forty year old man child who calls me at 2AM when he wants someone to hold his hair when he’s puking.” You remind him. “The last boyfriend I had told me that it was too much and dumped me, three weeks after I started working for you.” The traveling didn’t help. You were constantly on location and that wasn’t in your dating life’s favor.

Dieter bites his lip, feeling guilty for taking over your life for the past four years, and he hates feeling guilty. He never does and it eats away at him. He is quiet for several moments and you start to fidget. “I can pretend to be your boyfriend.” He offers, wanting to make this up to you.

“No.” You immediately shake your head. “You can’t.”

Dieter scoffs. “Why not? I’m an award winning actor. I can play being your boyfriend.”

You hesitate, knowing that he would treat it like a role if he were serious about it and your parents have been annoying you about when you are going to bring Dieter to meet them. “You can’t be ….you, you know. They don’t do drugs or anything like that.”

Dieter snorts in amusement, “no shit. I doubt your parents are having orgies and snorting coke from someone’s asshole like my weekends. I can be a good boy.” He promises, fluttering his eyelashes, “I want to do this for you. I owe you for all the years of service. I promise you, I will take this seriously.” He vows, crossing the space above his heart, “I won’t fuck this up if you want them to actually think we are dating but I have one question…” You look at him expectedly, “why me?”

You can’t tell him that it’s because you talk about him all the time. He will think that you have some secret thing for him and then he will never leave you alone. “Because you’re the only man I spend time with.” You tell him, shrugging slightly. “Who else am I supposed to be seeing when I’m always with you?” You ask. “I got tired of them asking when I was going to settle down and find a man - and it just… came out of my mouth. Plus I told them that we were keeping it quiet for your reputation so they couldn’t spread it around my hometown.”

Dieter smirks, “fair enough. Your hometown folks are gonna shit themselves when they see me.” His ego comes out and he winks at you, “let’s do it. I gotta get some new clothes. Can you go get them for me?” He pouts, “you can dress me like a Ken doll for your parents. Make a good first impression…baby.” He winks, thoroughly enjoying this new role and he needs a wardrobe.

You roll your eyes at him, fully aware that he’s going to be completely full of himself. You smirk, deciding that you are going to make sure that you pay him back slightly for the bullshit over the years. “Fine.” You agree. “But just so you know, my parents are going to make you sleep on a pull out bed in the office.” You tease before you chuckle. “Remember…you wanted this.”

Dieter rolls his eyes, “surely your parents don’t think that we don’t fuck after we’ve been together for 3 years. I doubt they would be surprised to find out that we bump uglies as a fucking couple. Nah, we are sharing a bed. Besides…you might get a craving for some cock since it’s been so long.” He waggles his eyebrows.

You snort and shake your head. “Doubtful.” You hum, imagining how he’s going to be disappointed when they insist you sleep separately. “Why would I need cock when my toys work so well to make me cum?” You tilt your head and grin at him. “You better go to bed early Dieter. The flight leaves at 6AM.”

Dieter’s cock can’t help but twitch as he imagines you using toys. “Naughty. I like it.” He smirks until your next sentence registers. “Six in the morning? Jesus fucking Christ. I am gonna need some speed.” He tuts, “and coffee. Lots of Goddamn coffee. Six…I haven’t gotten up that early except for that call time on Hunger strike. Fuck. I - Okay.” He concedes, knowing he can’t argue when he’s trying to be nice.

You smirk, happy that you’ve managed to inconvenience him in some small way. You open your phone to make sure you can actually get him a ticket on the same flight since it’s so last minute. You know you will have to put him in first class even though you will be back in coach. Dieter won’t sit back in coach, and you don’t want to hear him whine.

Dieter watches you book his seat using his card, smiling when you book first class. “Upgrade yourself. Use my points, can’t have people saying I don’t treat my girlfriend properly.” He tells you and spins on his heel, “I gotta figure out how to smuggle my tea on the flight.” He says, making his way into his bedroom to get high and hopefully pass out.

You watch him go with a shake of your head. “God help us.” You muse to yourself. Now you have to go shopping for him to get him a wardrobe that is suitable for playing the role of your boyfriend.

****

Dieter sits there with his sunglasses on. The early morning flight has fucked with his equilibrium and he struggled to wake up without taking one last hit to tide him over until he comes home. “Bloody Mary.” He orders, not even looking at the flight attendant while he rubs his temples.

“Dieter. It’s six thirty.” You gasp and he rolls his eyes, lowering his sunglasses to look at you, “exactly. It’s the middle of the fucking night.”

Huffing and turning away from him, you put in your earbuds so you can watch some Netflix movie you downloaded. He acts like you dragged him here, but he had insisted he come. You hope that he doesn’t cause a scene at Thanksgiving. Lord knows he could make a scene.

****

When you drive past the welcome sign of your small town, Dieter is instantly fascinated. He’s grown up in L.A, it’s all he’s ever known, so your small town has him asking you several questions like “is that where you went to school?” and “did you go to that store?”

You chuckle quietly as you drive him around the town on the way to your parents house. “Yes, this is my small town that I escaped to go to L.A.” You joke.

Dieter looks out the window with fascination and he smiles when you pull up outside of your childhood home. It’s beautiful and he loves how quaint it is. The autumn leaves covering the ground and they crunch under his new boots you bought him yesterday. “Ready?” He asks once you’re standing at the front door.

You are so nervous about this, worried about your little lie spilling out or Dieter somehow insulting your parents and family. You reach up and adjust the collar of the casual button down you had paired with a pair of delicious dark pants that made him look very sophisticated with the pea coat you had also bought. He looks every inch a successful actor and how you secretly think he should always dress. “If you are…baby.” You try it on, the words feeling slightly foreign in your mouth.

Dieter winks at you just as the door is opened, his stomach twisting a little with nerves but mainly at the way you call him baby. The door opens and an older man grins, looking at you with absolute love. "Hey squirrel!" Your dad greets you and Dieter mouths ‘squirrel’ with a frown as your dad steps out to wrap his arms around you, not even letting you step over the threshold.

“Dad!” You shriek happily, throwing yourself into his arms and grinning as your breath is practically squeezed out of you in the giant bear hug. “I’ve missed you so much!” Your words are muffled against his shoulder and he hums.

“Not as much as we’ve missed you, sweetheart. Hate that it’s been so long.”

Dieter bites his lip, knowing it's his fault. When your dad pulls back to look at Dieter, he holds his hand out. "I'm afraid that would be my fault. Keeping her busy with my work it's great to meet you, sir." Dieter offers your dad what he hopes is a friendly and polite smile.

“Dieter Bravo.” Your dad has an appraising look on his face as he slowly reaches out to take Dieter’s hand. You’ve not said anything, but he’s kept up with the antics of your boss and apparent boyfriend in the news. Some of it troubled him but he also trusts you to make the right decision. “Nice to finally meet you.”

Dieter offers your dad an oscar-winning smile. "It's great to finally meet my baby's parents." Dieter winks at you, reaching out to wrap his arm around your waist to squeeze. "Let me grab the bags, baby. You go inside." He orders, wanting to make this his best performance yet.

You try not to look shocked, knowing that normally Dieter leaves you to deal with the luggage - and everything really - while he does whatever he wants. “Of course.” You turn to your dad. “I’m assuming I’m in my old bedroom and Dieter is in the study?”

Your mother comes down the hallway, “don’t be silly, dear. You can share your old room with your boyfriend. You’re not fifteen. We know you have sex.” She snorts, and your dad covers his ears, acting like he doesn’t want to know. Your mom pulls you into her arms, sighing in delight. “Oh it’s so good to see you, sweet pea.” She coos, kissing your cheeks just as Dieter comes in the house with your cases.

“Hey mom.” You relax slightly, happy to see your parents even though they just put you in a very awkward position.

“Where do these go, baby?” Dieter asks and you pull away from your mom, knowing he was going to be a little shit about this.

“We are going to stay in my old bedroom, babe. Together.”

Dieter bites his lip to smother his smirk at the horrified look on your face when you turn away from your parents. "Oh that's great. I can't sleep without her." Dieter lies, "she's like my baby bear." He winks and your mother awes while your father wrinkles his nose slightly. "I'll take these upstairs then." Dieter says, winking at your mom before he makes his way upstairs with the cases.

“Sweet pea, he’s so handsome!” Your mother coos, turning to watch Dieter make his way upstairs. “So much better in person. I was so thrilled when you called last night and told us that he had changed his plans.”

You had managed to smother their curiosity for why you never brought Dieter, claiming he had long standing plans with friends over the holidays and he used it to decompress from work. “He’s happy he could come, mom.” You bite your lip, wondering how long it was before Dieter shows his true colors.

“What about all the, uh, the scandals he had surrounding that last movie? Was any of that true?” Your dad asks, concerned for your well-being when you are in L.A and even more so with you dating an actor.

“Hush, it doesn’t matter. She loves him and that’s all that matters. He looks after her, right?” Your mom looks at you, both of your parents waiting for your answer.

You want to laugh and tell them that you look after Dieter, but that would not be in your best interest right now. Instead, you nod, hearing Dieter walk through the upstairs and there’s a slight banging sound as he drops the bags that makes you groan. “He takes care of me.” You lie. “And most of the negative press was exaggerated. You know, create buzz about the project they had in the can.”

Your dad isn’t convinced but he lets it go, just excited to have you home, and your mom smiles at you. “I’m glad you’re happy, sweet pea. And you’re home! I made your favorite. You must be starving.” She guides you into the kitchen without a moment and Dieter comes downstairs, rubbing his hands on his pants after he discarded his coat on your bed. He spent a while looking around your room, laughing at the boy band posters but one in particular made him pause…the poster from his first movie. He files that away for later and nearly bumps into your dad.

“Did you find everything okay?” Your dad asks, watching Dieter carefully. He had noticed the other man had been upstairs for longer than just dropping off the bags, but he was a guest in his home, so he was going to be polite until it was necessary to not be. “Her mom made lunch if you’re hungry.”

“Starving.” Dieter groans, “I’ve only had a blood- tomato juice on the plane.” Your dad eyes him and he shifts, making his way into the kitchen and he sits down beside you. “Is there anything I can do to help?” He asks your mom.

You snort quietly, wondering if Dieter knows where anything is in his own kitchen. You’ve never seen him use more than the fridge. “Sure.” You grin at him playfully.

“Honey, don’t tease him. I think it’s wonderful that he’s offering to help.” Your mother beams at him, obviously slightly starstruck to have a Hollywood actor in her house. You roll your eyes, wondering if she would be so happy if she knew how childish he could be, but you remind yourself that you’ve only told your parents great things about Dieter.

Dieter offers your mom an award winning smile and she flusters, waving him off. “Stay seated. I’m nearly done.” She promises and your dad sits down. “So…how long have you two been together again?” He asks.

“Three-”

“Two years.” Dieter answers confidently and you want to hang your head.

“No baby, it’s been three.” You say pointedly and Dieter’s eyes widen.

“Yes. Three. I’m sorry. Three. I am terrible at keeping track. Oh shit, I guess I owe you something pretty for that mistake, huh babe?”

“Don’t worry about that.” You huff and your mom laughs.

“I wish your father would have bought me something every time he forgot how many years we’ve been married!” She jokes, grinning at her husband as he walks into the kitchen. “I would have a lot of pretty things.”

Your dad rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “I remember the day I asked you out.” He reminds her. “That’s the day we should celebrate.”

Your mom clicks her tongue, playfully tutting at her husband, and you smile with affection. You’ve missed your parents. A lot. Dieter reaches for your hand, bringing it to his lips to place a soft kiss there. Your mom sighs in delight and your dad is indifferent. “Guess it’s okay when he has so much money.” Your dad says, a little flippant, and Dieter can tell he doesn’t like him.

“Only thanks to this one. If I didn’t have her working as my assistant, I doubt I’d be able to function every day to do my job.”

You squirm slightly, never used to Dieter acknowledging that you do anything for him. Half the time when you argue for time off or that you’re busy, you get met with ‘this is what I pay you for’. Even if the pay is generous, sometimes it’s not enough. “You know what they say, a good assistant makes the world go round.” You joke with a small laugh.

Dieter winks at you and your mom serves lunch. Dieter is starving and he doesn’t even ask if the food is certified local and organic. He groans at the sight of the comfort food. It’s been so long since he had a home cooked meal. Usually he has you buy ready cooked meals from the organic grocery store down the street. “This looks delicious.”

You are surprised that Dieter isn’t asking questions, but then again, you’ve found him to be ridiculous. When he’s slightly sober, he will question the pesticides used on the vegetables and if the meat was free-range, but when he’s high - he wants McDonald’s mystery meat. “Thanks mom, I’ve been craving your food.” You admit as you all start to eat. You groan at the first bite and close your eyes, enjoying the feeling of being home.

Dieter watches you eat, your groan affecting him a little but he pushes that aside to enjoy the lunch. It’s delicious and he understands now why you want to come home. With a sigh, he finishes his meal and rubs his belly. “That was incredible.” He compliments your mom, meaning every word.

“We’ll clean up.” You assure your mom, smirking over at Dieter. “He loves helping out so we can make this quick and then go over who all is coming this year for Thanksgiving.” You know your mom would love to put her feet up, she’s probably been up since the crack of dawn to make sure the entire house was ready for your arrival.

Dieter stands up, a little unsure but your mom looks so happy that you offer to clean up. He knows he has to help but he hasn’t loaded a dishwasher in years. He doesn’t remember how to even turn it on. “Um, hand washing?” He suggests.

It’s surprising he even thought about that, but you shake your head. “If you want to clear the table, I’ll start loading the dishwasher.” You can see the relief in his eyes. “We will have it done in no time.” He won’t have a clue about storing leftovers, but hopefully your mom and dad will go sit out in the living room and you can just take care of it yourself.

Dieter nods, working on cleaning the plates off of the table. “Come on honey, let’s go get those decorations from the attic for next month. I can start untangling those lights.” Your dad offers with a chuckle and Dieter sighs in relief when your parents leave the room.

“Gross.” He wrinkles his nose at the food left on the plate. “How do you do this shit all the time?”

There’s the Dieter Bravo you know and tolerate. “Someone hasn’t worked in food service in a long time.” You joke, remembering how he had talked about hating waiting tables while working on his big break when he was younger. “Or are you too big of a star now that you’ve forgotten?” It’s more likely he’s done too many drugs, but that’s another subject. “Just leave them on the counter and I’ll clean them off, you big baby.”

Dieter pouts, knowing you are making fun of him but you aren’t wrong. Maybe he has forgotten his humble beginnings back when he was nineteen and figuring shit out. “I’m sorry. I just - I’m not used to this. Doing…normal things.”

“It’s fine.” You shrug and start scraping the dishes clean and stacking them next to the sink to rinse before you load them into the dishwasher. “It’s what I get paid for, right? Letting you do Dieter things and concentrate on your performances.” It’s enough for you that he offered, playing into your mom and getting her to think that he might help in the fictitious relationship you’re in. “Just - thank you for offering.” You offer quietly.

He smiles, blushing a little from your gratitude. He never really gets to experience simple things like that and he realizes he should be more appreciative of you. “So what are the plans for this trip?” He asks, leaning against the counter and watching you work.

“Honestly? Not much.” You admit, a little embarrassed that there isn’t much to do where you grew up. “I planned on spending time with family mainly, maybe meeting up with some friends from school for drinks one night.” You give a small shrug. “Mainly just planned on relaxing, drinking a little too much and decompressing.” L.A. is a fast paced town and while you can handle it, sometimes you just need time to sit and absorb the silence.

“Sounds boring.” Dieter snorts, continuing to watch you. It’s not that he doesn’t like slowing down and relaxing but it allows him to think and when he thinks, he gets sad about how his life has gone. Yes, he is an award winning actor, wanted by most directors in Hollywood, but it’s lonely. His parents didn’t really care about him, just the money, and his ‘friends’ probably wouldn’t be his friends if he didn’t have the fame and money. This is real. What you have is real and he is jealous of that. True family and friends who love you for you.

“Thanks.” You huff sarcastically and look over at him with slight annoyance. Of course he would think your life is boring, you aren’t snorting God knows what up your nose and begging random strangers to fuck you. “I can always book you a ticket back home tomorrow. Tell them that you had some production meeting come up.”

Dieter shakes his head, “no. I promised I’d do this. I want to do this. Just…cut me some slack. It’s been for fucking ever since I’ve had to deal with this.” He reveals and you frown, “what? Family?” He nods and you sigh, looking at him.

“I’m sorry. I know…I know it’s not easy but I can make up an excuse.”

Dieter shakes his head and hears footsteps coming down the hall. “Play along.” He orders, shifting to stand behind you, leaning down to bury his face in your neck while his hands grip your waist.

Your breath catches in your throat, perfect for the scene when your dad walks into the kitchen to find the two of you like that. Looking like Dieter is kissing your neck or whispering intimately in your ear and you hate how your entire body fires to life under the innocent touch. “I-” Your father clears his throat. “I came to get your mom something to drink.” He explains, looking anywhere but at you when you turn your head.

“Oh, uh, sorry.” You peel yourself away from Dieter, cheeks burning.

Dieter bites his lip to smother his smirk, victorious in flustering you and showing your dad that you are a couple. “Sorry sir. She’s just too beautiful.” He coos, leaning in to kiss your cheek and your dad opens the fridge to get your mom her drink.

You fluster slightly and turn back to the sink, hurriedly rinsing off the rest of the dishes so you can load them into the dishwasher. It’s still to be affected by him being so close, it was just a scene to him. It didn’t mean anything and yet your stomach feels like it is filled with butterflies. “We’ll be done in just a minute,’ you tell your father. “Then we can help get the Christmas decorations out. Maybe Dieter can help untangle the lights.”

Dieter wants to say no but he can’t so he nods, turning towards your dad. “Yeah. I can help. Just need a moment if you know what I mean.” He gestures to his crotch despite not being hard.

Your dad looks at him in horror before he slowly backs out of the kitchen with a “I’ll let you kids to it.”

“Jesus Dieter.” You blow out an exasperated laugh, embarrassed that he had just said that to your father. “Don’t say things like that to my dad. You’re going to give him a heart attack.”

Dieter snorts. “He knows you aren’t a virgin.” He argues but you huff.

“Yeah, but it’s not like I talk about my sex life with my parents.”

Dieter rolls his eyes, “who do you talk to about your sex life? Because it ain’t me.” He points to himself, “you know all about mine.” Albeit, unwillingly, but you know about his escapades, especially when you make a midnight condom run for him.

“When I did have a sex life, I would talk about it with my friends.” You feel a bit defensive, but it’s not like you can help that your schedule is so damn demanding that all you could possibly get was one night stands. You just aren’t that type of girl. No hating on anyone who was, but you liked having at least a little bit of an emotional connection. “But it’s been years, so that isn’t an issue.”

“Years?” Dieter yells and you shush him, “years? You’re fucking joking. There’s - there’s no way it’s been years. You’re - well, look at you. Someone must’ve wanted to fuck the shit out of you. You’re hot. There’s - fuck, you must be a virgin again.”

“Shut up.” You hiss, looking around and praying that no one overheard his big mouth. “The last time I came close to getting laid was that audio tech on Time Again.” You roll your eyes, thinking about what a shitshow that had been. The studio had finally just canned the movie due to the pandemic and the fact that the production just kept dragging out. “But everytime he went to ask me out, you were calling and needing something.” You ignore the pleasure that is running through you because Dieter said you were hot. He would fuck anyone, so it wasn’t like that meant much.

Dieter shakes his head, “that asshole wouldn’t have made you cum. He could barely hold the mic, he would’ve disappointed you.” Dieter won’t admit it openly but perhaps he had sabotaged your dates on purpose for his own selfish needs. He feels a little guilty. A little. Yet it’s not enough to make him regret his actions.

You snort. “What were you fucking him?” You ask, feeling out of sorts that he’s so horrified that you haven’t gotten laid when it was honestly his fault. “Never mind, I don’t want to know.” You shake your head and look down at his crotch. “Looks like your little problem is gone.” You tell him. “I’ll finish up here, you go help dad.”

Dieter huffs, “fine. I’ll go untangle the fucking lights but this isn’t finished.” He gestures between you and adjusts himself as he makes his way upstairs to help your parents with the lights. Your mom asks him question after question about L.A. His home, his family. “Oh my family are dead.” He reveals bluntly and your mom’s eyes widen, “oh my God. I’m so - I didn’t know.” Dieter shrugs, “didn’t really like my parents anyway.”

“Oh you poor thing.” Your mom tuts, her heart aching for him. “No wonder she makes sure to take good care of you.” She shakes her head. “You are welcome to come back whenever you need someone to pry into your life and worry over you.” She tells him with a motherly smile.

Dieter wants to be sarcastic but your mother’s kind look sends him into a tailspin. Affection. Shit, how long has it been since he experienced that? Genuine affection. It pulls at his heart and he offers her a soft smile, “thank you. I’d like that.” Your mom beams at him and your dad hands Dieter the lights, ordering for him to untangle them.

You finish the dishes and start the dishwasher before you wander out to where your father and Dieter are starting to untangle the lights. Dieter is already huffing, frustrated with the tangled mess. “Maybe we should put lights on your house this year, baby.” You coo, knowing that Dieter would never get on a ladder and put up lights on his Sherman Oaks house.

Dieter plays along, “oh yes. That would be good. We can get some blow up decorations too.” He waits until your parents aren’t looking and smirks, hoping you catch his drift.

You roll your eyes at his immaturity and then decide to give him back his own. “Oh yes! They have this twenty-five foot Santa Claus that would be perfect!” You squeal, rushing over and kissing him on the cheek. “I will go order it now. It will go perfect when I dress up like Mrs. Claus and make cookies.”

Dieter’s jaw drops but he recovers when your mom looks at him with such joy. “Just put it on my card babe.” He says through gritted teeth despite smiling. Fuck, you are going to frustrate the shit out of him but he won’t let you win. He owes you a good time with your parents and he will make sure it goes off without a hitch.

You smirk, deciding that you actually are going to order the Santa, just to be a shit. You beam at your mom. “Isn’t he just the best? He spoils me.” You brag, reaching over and helping him untangle one section of Christmas lights that he had been staring at in frustration.

“He does seem to dote on you.” Your mother hums happily, shaking her head. “I can’t believe we are just now meeting him.”

Dieter smiles at your mom, “that’s my fault. I’ve been so busy and I just didn’t want to take away from her family time. My muffin deserves all the time she wants for her family.” He coos, leaning in to kiss your cheek, making your mom coo in delight.

“Muffin.” You huff softly and turn to give him a loving look. “I will knee you in the balls if you use that again, “ you hiss through your teeth as you cup his cheek. “I’ll hold you to that baby.” You promise, patting his cheek.

You pat his cheek a little too hard and he hisses, narrowing his eyes for a second. He can’t believe how out of control this is getting. “Don’t worry snookums, daddy will look after you.” He coos the second half into your ear, wanting you to squirm in front of your parents. Your dad is cursing the lights, too busy to listen, and your mom is distracted by a broken ornament she found.

You shudder, early gagging at the term ‘daddy’. “Gross.” You murmur softly, never been a fan of some man calling himself daddy towards you. Instead of giving him the pleasure of winning, you widen your eyes innocently and bat your lashes at him. “Thank you, Daddy.” you coo sweetly.

Dieter chuckles, knowing he got to you. He hates being called daddy. He isn’t your father, but he wants to get under your skin. He winks and you huff, making him chuckle as he continues working on the lights. “Oh, Dave called earlier, sweetheart. Asked about you being in town and said you should head over to the tavern for a drink.”

“Oh.” You brighten at the new, smiling at your mom. “Thanks. I need to catch up with him, it’s been a long time.” Dieter frowns, not knowing who you are talking about but he doesn’t like the way you light up.

“Who’s Dave?” He asks and your dad snorts.

“You don’t recognize the name of her childhood best friend?” He asks Dieter. “We thought they were going to grow up and get married one day.”

Dieter looks at you, noting the dreamy look in your eyes, and even though this is pretend, he can’t help but get jealous. “You’ve never mentioned Dave, baby?” He frowns, tilting his head and looking at you with curiosity.

You shrug slightly, not wanting to remind him that he didn’t particularly care about your life in front of your parents. Dieter is normally very self centered. “We grew up together, dated a while in high school and then broke up before college.” You didn’t want to tell Dieter that Dave was the one who you had experienced most of your ‘firsts’ with, including losing your virginity.

Dieter clenches his jaw, unsure of why he feels so fucking jealous, but he does. He nods, “I see. Well, I can’t wait to meet him.” He acts excited for your parents’ sake, knowing that the jealousy act won’t wash well with them. He continues untangling the lights, not looking forward to meeting Dave.

You frown slightly but you don’t say anything. “Yeah, I’ll give him a call and see about setting something up.” You hum.

“Sweet pea, why don’t you and Dieter meet him tonight?” Your mom suggests. “Before the holiday prep starts. Go out and have some fun.”

You bite your lip and nod. “Okay, I’ll go set it up now.” You agree.

“What a wonderful idea.” Dieter praises your mom but his tone is full of sarcasm, not that she realizes it. Or your dad. He does not want to meet this fucking Dave but then he realizes something. “Does Dave have a partner? Maybe invite them too.”

You shrug slightly, unaware of what Dave might have going on in his life. Despite what your parents believe, you and Dave had grown apart. Long before college. You were still friendly, but it wasn’t like you were still best friends anymore.

Dieter hates how you don’t immediately tell him Dave is married or has a partner. Or is gay. He hates it and he feels threatened by someone he hasn’t even met. When you tell him an hour later that you are meeting Dave for dinner, he wants to ask if it will be four of you but he bites his lip and decides to play it safe, dress nice, and see what this dude is about.

The rest of the afternoon passes quickly. Finally getting the lights untangled and tested, the burned out bulbs replaced so your dad can hang them up. When it’s getting close to time to meet Dave, you pull Dieter away so that the two of you can go freshen up. “We’re meeting in an hour. At least we can get a drink or three while we are there.”

“Or ten.” Dieter mumbles under his breath while he allows you to get ready first. He just needs to brush his hair and put on some new clothes. Usually he wouldn’t put in the effort but this Dave asshole is going and could potentially have the ability to take you away from Dieter if he decides he wants to get back together. He can’t allow that.

You freshen up your makeup and change into an outfit that is stylish and comfortable. You wouldn’t normally go to such hassle, but you are supposedly dating a Hollywood actor after all. You need to look worthy of him.

Dieter frowns when you come out of the bathroom, dressed up and refreshed for this dinner, and he doesn’t say a word as he stomps into the bathroom to get ready, brushing his teeth and his hair. He washes his face and can’t resist grabbing some of your lip balm, just to make him look kissable compared to fucking Dave. He comes back out in clean clothes and puts his shoes on, “you ready?”

You eye his change of clothes, approving of yet another outfit you picked out for him. “Of course baby.” You coo playfully. “Remember not to flirt with all the fans wanting your autograph.” You remind him, knowing that would get around the town quickly and then everyone would be feeling sorry for you.

Dieter rolls his eyes, “of course not. I’m nothing if not professional.” You snort at that and he pouts at you before he puts his boots back on, ready to drive to the restaurant where Dave is. After you bid goodbye to your parents, your dad telling you to tell Dave hello which made Dieter scoff under his breath, you drive to the restaurant.

“You don’t have to come.” You remind him, wondering why he is acting like a petulant child again. It’s almost like he’s jealous but you know that’s not the case. “I can drop you off somewhere so we don’t bore you to death.”

“No. No. That would look bad. I’ll be a good boy.” He promises, crossing his heart. “I won’t be bad. I just - it’s weird to be going out to dinner with your ex.” He settles on that as his excuse. He doesn’t even know who this Dave guy looks like.

“Please.” You scoff and roll your eyes. “You’ve fucked plenty of your exes.” You remind Dieter. “I’m sure food is involved in that process somewhere. Don’t you have a standing date with an ex wife to fuck on your divorce anniversary?”

Dieter shrugs one shoulder, “it’s good sex. She just hates me.” He justifies and looks out of the window. “That’s just sex. Not a dinner. We don’t talk. As for food…maybe some whipped cream but that’s all. Oh wait…there was one time with chocolate syrup.” He smirks as he remembers his ex from five years ago.

“Ugh, never mind.” You huff. “Anyway, Dave and I grew up together. We have history but we still managed to stay friends. Besides, it’s not like my parents know I gave him my virginity prom night.”

Dieter’s neck hurts when his head twists to look at you. “What? You - you naughty girl.” He teases, “tell me all the details.” He rarely hears you discuss anything regarding sex and he wants to know if Dave came in 30 seconds to make him feel better about meeting your ex.

You snort, amused that Dieter’s gone from scowling to now begging for details. “I’m sure that it’s the standard ‘losing your virginity on prom night story’.” You huff. “We booked a hotel room and stayed together, actually we left prom early.” You smile at the memory slightly. “It was sweet and awkward but I was with my best friend, so it didn’t matter.”

Dieter hums, staring at you as you smile. He lost his virginity to a big movie producer. She was double his age and thought he was cute. There were no feelings involved, just sex, and his desire to make it big in Hollywood. He hasn’t really had sex that involved emotions, unless you count the hate sex with his ex wife. Even during his marriage he never “made love.” He clicks his tongue, “how cute. Bet he came in 30 seconds and it was all over.”

You huff, annoyed that he’s being critical over something that happened a long time ago. It’s like he’s trying to belittle your experience. Yet another reason you don’t share with Dieter because it’s never quite good enough. “I’m sure you lasted an hour and made them cum four times when you lost your virginity.” You manage tightly. “Since you’re so perfect.”

Dieter frowns, trying to remember that fateful day, and he winces when he reminds himself of how quickly he came. However, the woman made him eat his cum from inside of her to get her off. He didn’t mind the taste of himself combined with her so he stayed there for an hour just making her cum over and over. It was a good oral experience. “I’m not perfect.” He whispers, feeling that insecurity looming over him.

You look over at him and see the uneasy look. “No, you’re not.” Your tone is softer, and you reach over to pat his leg affectionately. “I’m sure it took a couple of times before Dieter Bravo, Sex God was born.” You tease playfully. “I think it’s a requirement that everyone’s first sexual experience be fast. But he had also made sure I was ready, fingering me and so I wasn’t disappointed.”

Dieter nods, "that's good. Oral is my favorite for getting a woman fucking soaking wet." He says like he's declaring his favorite color and it makes your stomach twist when he offers you a wicked grin. When you pull into the restaurant parking lot, Dieter fidgets, adjusting his shirt that suddenly seems too tight. "We should probably hold hands." He says when you are both out of the car.

“Yeah.” You are more nervous than you want to admit, because of your history with Dave. You drift closer to Dieter and offer him your hand. “Just- please don’t, uh, you know. Make me look crazy.” You ask, feeling a little overwhelmed by your fake boyfriend meeting your first boyfriend.

Dieter squeezes your hand, "I'll be the crazy one." He promises, winking at you as you make your way inside of the restaurant. He is nervous, wanting to make sure this is a good impression. Your town is small so word would spread fast if they thought you weren't a couple. Dieter doesn't want to mess this up for you despite his usually blase attitude to life.

His hand around yours is comfortable and you guess you had never realized how large his hands are. You’re actually disappointed when he pulls his hand out of yours. Dieter opens the door for you and you give him a small smile, feeling his hand on your back as you walk up to the hostess stand but Dave stands up from a table and waves towards you. “Oh, there’s my party.” You tell her before the two of you make your way over. “Dave!” Your former boyfriend grins and immediately reaches for you, pulling you into a hug. “I’ve missed you!” He groans, hugging you tight.

Dieter stands awkwardly to the side, unsure of what to say or do until Dave stops the ridiculously long hug he’s giving you and turns to Dieter. “Hey man, I’m Dave.” He says, reaching out to shake Dieter’s hand and Dieter can’t help but squeeze a little harder while saying “it’s great to meet you.” He says it almost through gritted teeth but manages to spit it out before you all sit down. “It’s so good to see you. God, you look amazing.” Dave smiles at you and Dieter wraps his arm around your shoulder, “she does, doesn’t she? L.A agrees with her.”

You arch your brow slightly at the possessiveness in Dieter’s tone but you just lean into his side. “So how is everything going for you?” You ask Dave, wanting to keep the conversation flowing. “It’s been, what? Four years since we’ve seen each other?” As soon as the waitress comes over, you are going to need a drink. Despite your cheerful tone, this is awkward.

“Has it really been four years? Wow. I, uh, I have been working mainly. Few dates here and there but nothing really worked out. Not since…” Dave trails off, his eyes fixed on the hand on your shoulder. “Anyway, how are you? Dating a movie star? Wow. Hollywood glamor every day I imagined?”

“Oh you know it.” You don’t roll your eyes but you turn and give Dieter an adoring look and reach up to smooth a few scraggly hairs before you look back at Dave. “But Dieter and I like to keep things private. Because the paparazzi can be brutal.” You do roll your eyes at that.

Dieter snorts, “yeah. Remember that time they nearly caught us when we were…ya know? They are difficult to avoid.” Dieter says with sympathy for himself. It wasn’t you he was nearly caught with but as an actor, he knows that the closer the story is to the truth, the more realistic it will seem.

“That was a close call.” You giggle and shake your head. “We learned that it’s not like being a teenager in the back of a car.”

Dave squirms slightly, uncomfortable but he grunts. “Well, you spent a lot of time in the back of my car.” He reminds you with a smirk on his face.

Dieter struggles to keep the smile on his face but it’s hard. He knows he’s being childish, especially when you’ve had to deal with all of his escapades but he feels jealous about you being with Dave, experiencing your firsts with Dave.

“That was a very long time ago.” You laugh, relieved when the waitress comes over and you can order a drink. “I’ll have double vodka soda on the rocks with a twist of lime.” You tell her desperately, needing the alcohol. “Baby, what are you going to get?” You turn to coo at Dieter.

“I’ll have water.” Dieter says, surprising you. “You enjoy yourself. I can drive us back to your parents house.” Dieter offers, kissing your cheek before he settles back into his seat, his arm still around you.

Dave orders a Jack and Coke before he leans back and looks at you. “I have to admit, I was surprised when your parents told me you were dating your boss.” He confesses, making you frown slightly.

“Why is that?” You ask, shaking your head. “I spend most of my time with Dieter.”

Dieter rubs your arm, “it’s hard to not fall in love with the woman bringing you food every day.” He jokes and Dave clicks his tongue.

“What I mean is…I hope you didn’t feel pressured to be with him because he’s your boss. I’ve heard stories from Hollywood. You know, Harvey Weinstein and the Me Too movement. I just…I hope that’s not the case.” Dave says, offering Dieter a weird look.

“No.” That you can very adamantly shake your head over. “Dieter would never dream of forcing someone to be with him. He’s a very pro consent type of man and if he was turned down - before we got together - there was no hard feelings or attitude about.” You chuckle and look over at him. “It was more a question. ‘Do you want to have sex with me? No? Okay, cool.’ I’ve seen him strike out, but he doesn’t have to worry about that now.” You lean in and kiss his jaw.

Dieter is offended that Dave would imply that he basically forced you to be with him, but he lets it slide, not wanting to make a scene. He does, however, cup your cheek and bring your lips to his. He kisses you, deep and for a moment longer than appropriate as he shows Dave that he is with you because he wants you. “I would never force anyone to fuck me. If they want to, I will make sure they are shaking with pleasure by the end of it. She fully consented and now, I make her moan my name so loud we had the police called for noise complaints in a hotel last month.”

“Dieter.” You are embarrassed, both from the implication of the idea of noise complaints because of sex but also because of the way that you leaned into the kiss. You remind yourself that he’s an actor. He’s playing a role, it’s his job to convince people that you are really together. “Baby, don’t…” you whine softly, cheeks burning.

Dieter chuckles, “she gets embarrassed. She’s a screamer. Well, you know. Right?” He winks at you and leans back when the waitress comes over to set the drinks down.

“Oh my God. You’re Dieter Bravo!” She squeals and Dieter smiles politely.

“Yes, hi. How are you?” She practically faints and asks him to sign her order book. He obliges, asking her name, and hands her back the pen before she thanks him profusely and rushes off.

“Wow.” Dave frowns slightly, his eyes flicking over to you and he arches a brow. “How do you deal with your jealousy with women coming up to him all the time?” He asks you before he looks over at Dieter. “She was always so jealous anytime I talked to someone else.”

You huff and roll your eyes, annoyed that this seems to be some kind of test. “I’ve grown up, Dave. I’m secure in myself and my relationship.”

Dieter picks up the vibe and smiles at you, “oh she has her fun too.” He implies with a wink, wanting Dave to feel like he’s missing out.

Dave wrinkles his nose, “you get involved in those Hollywood orgies?” He asks in shock and Dieter responds before you can, “oh that’s the best part of being in Hollywood. Orgasms for everyone.”

“Dieter!” You hiss, smacking his thigh under the table. You can’t believe that he just said that to Dave.

“And you don’t get jealous?” Dave asks him seriously, ignoring your embarrassment. “I wouldn’t want to share her if it was me.”

Dieter smirks, enjoying how uncomfortable Dave is. “I know she’s mine. She sleeps beside me, wakes up beside me. If someone else happens to make her cum, I enjoy watching her get pleasure. That’s true love. Having boundaries within your relationship, trust, and knowing that at the end of the day, you’ll only be in bed with one another. I am not a jealous man.” He lies there, knowing he’s already jealous of Dave.

Dave stares at him for a moment before he looks back over at you, trying to determine if you believed all that crap. You school your expression into one of complete bliss and curl into Dieter’s side. “So yeah, not much going on with us.” You joke, thankful to see the waitress coming with your drinks.

Dieter thanks the waitress and you all order your food, making Dieter grateful that this bullshit will be over once you’ve eaten. He isn’t interested in a pissing match with Dave. He highly doubts that you’d get back with a small town ex but Dieter can’t deny he’s worried that you’ll leave him. He knows he’d never find an assistant like you. He wouldn’t be able to replace you if you decided to get back with Dave and move back here.

“You know…..” Dave taps the table and looks over at you with a soft expression. “Everyone misses you.” He tells you. “Every time I run into our old friends they ask about you. You know Steve and Rachel? They got engaged last week, going to be planning a wedding soon. You always used to say you wanted to plan weddings.”

Dieter knows how good you are at planning, you fucking plan his entire life, and he wonders if that’s your true dream. “Is that what you wanted to do?” Dieter asks softly, wanting to know more about you, to understand you more. To help his role…of course.

“At one time.” You admit, shrugging your shoulders carelessly. “I like the details and I’m pretty good under pressure.” You shoot him a small smirk, thinking about all the times that Dieter is demanding the impossible and you come through for him. “Most people want their wedding day to be one of the happiest of their lives. I thought it would be pretty awesome to help foster that. But then I learned that wedding planning is a cut throat business.”

“So is Hollywood.” Dave retorts, “you’d be good at wedding planning. You always had such a good eye. You should reconsider it instead of running around after actors.” Dave glances at Dieter who shifts in his seat. “Do you enjoy being a runaround for him?” Dave asks you.

“Dave.” You huff, frowning at him. “That’s rude.”

Dave shakes his head. “Seriously, answer the question. Do you enjoy it?”

You blow out a breath and look over at Dieter. “Every job has good and bad moments, but you tell me that I could travel to Croatia or Japan to visit locations while Dieter is shooting a movie as a wedding planner here. Tell me I would have to replace my passport because my pages are full.”

Dave stares at you, trying to process that but he knows he could never give you that. “Don’t you want a family? To settle down? Get married?” Dave asks, feeling himself get a little desperate. It’s always been you for him. He hasn’t moved on. He’s tried dating but always failed when they couldn’t compare to you. He’s been praying you’d come home so he could see you but he never imagined you’d be with Dieter.

“One day.” You shrug because you would love to have a future with someone. Unlikely because of that same lifestyle that you had just defended. No one wanted to put up with being on call for Dieter 24/7, so you didn’t try to find love. “It doesn’t have to be right away. Or ever really.”

Dieter bites his lip, feeling guilty that you’ve seemingly put your life on hold for him. “Ever?” Dieter asks before Dave can.

“Surely you want to have your own family? It’s all you talked about when we were kids.” Dave frowns, crossing his arms.

“I was also a child.” You remind him. “If I decide to have kids, I’ll have them. They are a lot of work and I don’t know if I want them anymore.” Taking care of Dieter is like having a large kid and you don’t know if you would want to do it for real. Probably would change your mind when you find someone you want to be with, but it’s not even on the table right now. “Ideas for how your life should go change.”

Dave shakes his head, "you've changed. Hollywood has changed you. You are - you're different." He observes and Dieter gets protective, reaching out to take your hand in his.

"She's grown up." Dieter defends you, "she isn't a teenager anymore. She's all woman and she knows what she wants. I support her, no matter what she decides to do."

“Thank you, baby.” You squeeze Dieter’s hand, thankful that he had said the perfect words. Ones that you didn’t know you needed to hear from someone, although it’s surprising it came from him. Too many people constantly ask about their perfect vision for your life. You turn and press a small kiss to his lips. “I love that you support me.”

Dieter blushes a little at the small kiss you give him, unnecessary to sell the act, and he finds his heart thumping at the soft smile you offer him when you pull back. He squeezes your hand back, "always. I'll always support you." He means that, even if you decide to quit working for him, he'd still make sure you are okay.

The food finally comes and the conversation turns towards Dave. Listening to him talk about himself, and his plans for the future with veiled hints that he wants you to be a part of that, you can’t help but be glad Dieter is here beside you. You had broken up in college for a reason, you didn’t want someone planning out your entire life and you have to appreciate how much things change daily with your boss.

“So I think it would be nice if we could have lunch or dinner with just the two of us sometime. You know, to catch up properly.” Dave says brazenly after you’ve finished eating your meal that was filled with banal small talk about holiday plans and the new year. Dieter clenches his jaw, trying to not react because he knows that’s what Dave wants. For him to appear insecure in your relationship, even if it is fake, he doesn’t need to know that.

“I don’t think that’s appropriate.” You shake your head and frown slightly. “It would be rude to leave Dieter with my parents and to go out with you alone.” You are disappointed in the idea, knowing that he is fully aware of how rude he is being.

Dieter frowns at the cockiness that Dave exudes when it comes to you. It’s very controlling and possessive and he hates it. No wonder you broke up with this douche. “Besides, if she has any free time during this trip, it will be dedicated to us sneaking around her parents house while I make her cum as many times as possible.” Dieter says smugly and unashamed.

Your cheeks burn and you bite your lip, wishing for a moment that he actually meant that. It’s been a long time since you’ve cum from anything other than your own fingers or a toy. Dave shakes his head, leaning back slightly. “I still don’t believe this. You and Dieter Bravo.”

You chuckle. “Yep. Who woulda guessed?”

Dave narrows his eyes, looking between you. "Something isn't right here and I am gonna find out what it is. You - you are a movie star. Oscar winner. What the hell would you see in her when you work with beautiful models and actresses?" Dave gestures to you and Dieter clenches his jaw.

"What do I see in her? She's beautiful. Inside and out. The people I work with, they don't have souls. They only care about their looks, their status. This one...she sees the real me. She knows my good and my bad. She's seen me at my worst and she's still here. Most of those Hollywood actors would ditch me in a second if they had a sniff of a mental breakdown. She's been here through thick and thin and I never want to lose her. She is incredible. She is smart and she deserves the world. You, however, do not deserve her. I don't deserve her, but as long as she is happy, I will thank my stars every day that I am the lucky son of a bitch she chooses to be beside every day." Dieter finishes by looking at you, hoping you realize he means every word. He would be lost without you.

You swallow, moved at the way he made you believe what he just said. If this wasn’t a farce, you would be jumping into his arms to kiss him passionately. Instead, you turn back to Dave. “Wow, I can’t believe you just said that.” You huff, motioning to Dieter. “I’m apparently not pretty enough or good enough to be with someone like Dieter. Thanks.” You poke Dieter again. “Let’s go. I think this is enough ‘catching up’ for this visit.”

"Wait. No - I - I didn't mean it like that." Dave stammers as you and Dieter stand up. He stands up quickly, reaching for you, and Dieter wastes no time grabbing his hand to stop him.

"If you touch her, I will have no choice but to put you on your ass in this restaurant. I had martial arts training for a movie, I know my shit." He threatens and Dave jerks his wrist from Dieter's grip.

"Fuck you, Bravo. She's gonna see you for what you are...a user. You just use her from what her parents have said and I know she will leave you and when she does, she will come back here and be with me." Dave sounds so sure of himself, Dieter can't help but lash out.

Growling, he jerks his arm back and smashes his fist into Dave's jaw, making him stumble and everyone in the restaurant gasps, some already have their phones out recording but Dieter doesn't give a shit. "She will never be with you." Dieter vows, shaking his wrist out and he grabs your hand with his free hand. "Dinner's on you, Dave." Dieter spits sarcastically and guides you out of the restaurant. "Ow. Ow. Ow. Shit." He whines, shaking his bruised knuckles as the facade drops.

“Oh my god!” You whirl around and grab Dieter’s hand. It was unbelievably hot to have him defend you like that, even if it was a little unwarranted. Still, you can help the way you had clenched and you want to just get down on your knees and suck his cock to make him forget about his hand hurting. “I can’t believe you did that!” You gasp out, shaking your head and brushing your thumb over the back of his red knuckles.

“Me neither.” Dieter winces. “I don’t know what came over me. I just - I couldn’t stand for him to talk about you like that. You deserve better than him. You deserve everything you’ve ever wanted and I know I’m an asshole who clearly makes your life a living hell but I do care about you. You deserve better than that asshole.” He tells you, looking into your eyes and the moon is high in the sky, making you appear ethereal.

“Thank you.” You whisper, wanting to lean in and kiss him but that’s not possible. He’s your boss and he’s only doing this because he didn’t want to be alone on Thanksgiving. Not because he loves you. “Let’s go back to the house and we’ll put a bag of frozen peas on your hand.” You offer, giving him a smile.

Dieter smiles, letting you guide him back to the car and you are quiet on the drive back to your parents’ house. It’s been an eventful day and Dieter is ready for bed. The fact that he’s sharing a bed with you is irrelevant. Totally irrelevant. He walks into your childhood home and your parents’ are still awake, watching tv. The tree is up but no decorations on it yet. “Oh hi honey. How was dinner? How was Dave?” Your mom asks eagerly.

You scoff slightly, shaking your head. “Dave was….insulting.” You tell your parents shortly. “Dieter ended up punching him and then we walked out.”

“What?” Your dad is shocked alongside your mom. “He what -? He punched Dave? Why the hell - why would you do that?” Your dad demands of Dieter who stands tall.

“He was rude towards your daughter. He basically wanted her to move back here to marry him and have his kids. She said she wanted more than that and Dave decided to get nasty so I defended the woman I love.” Dieter states it so simply, it cannot be refuted.

You dad obviously doesn’t believe a word Dieter says and looks over to you to confirm it. “He’s right. Dave said that he couldn’t believe that we were together because he could have supermodels, why would he choose me. Insinuating that I’m not good enough.”

Dieter wraps his arm around your waist, “she is good enough. I work with lots of beautiful people but your daughter is beautiful inside and out.”

Dieter squeezes your hip and your mom coos, “oh sweet pea. You’ve found a good one there. I’ll have to talk to Dave’s mother about what he said. It’s not acceptable.”

“Don’t worry about it mom.” Dave’s parents and your own have been friends for years. You don’t want to strain their relationship because of this. “I’m going to take Dieter to ice down his hand.”

Your parents don't say anything as you guide Dieter into the kitchen to find a bag of peas for his knuckles. He sits down at the kitchen table, watching you move around the kitchen and he admires your figure, noticing your ass. and his cock twitches in the pants you bought him. "I'm fine." He promises, hissing when you place the bag on his sore knuckles.

“I know, but I don’t want your hand to hurt anymore.” You murmur softly, reaching up and brushing his hair back. “Thank you for that again. I don’t know why he would say things like that.” You shake your head, disappointed in your former friend and lover.

Dieter leans into your touch, wishing you would run your fingers through his hair again. He sighs, "I am sorry if I - if I overstepped. I shouldn't have hit him but I just get annoyed by small minded assholes who refuse to accept others. Your life is yours, even if I kinda control it right now. It is your life and you should be able to choose what you want and who you want. He doesn't get to dictate that. Neither do I."

“If there’s one thing I can count on, it’s that you aren’t going to do things by half.” You smirk down at him and pat his cheek affectionately and step back to move towards the fridge. “Do you want something to drink?”

Dieter nods, “please baby.” It slips out without him even realizing it but he likes the way it sounds when he talks about you. He knows you don’t want him like that but you are starting to grow on him. He’s certain that he likes you as more than just his assistant. Seeing this side of you in your hometown is making his stomach twist.

You tell yourself that Dieter is just staying in character, you’ve seen him do it before. It would be easier to just act like a couple all the time so there aren’t any slip ups. “Of course.” You hum as you pull out some lemonade your mom has on hand. “Do you want some vodka in it?” You ask after you pour the glass.

Dieter offers you a wicked smirk, "is that sensible? Will your parents be mad if we drink?" He doesn't really know what protocol is for this situation and he guesses drinking booze isn't looked upon kindly when you are meeting your 'girlfriend''s parents.

“As long as we don’t get blitzed, my parents are okay. We normally have wine at dinner and there will be a couple of cases of beer at Thanksgiving.” You wink at him before you move over to your parents liquor cabinet. “Ta daaaah!”

He stands up, setting the cold peas down on the table, and he stands behind you to eye up the bottles. “Damn. Your parents have a supply. Do you have tequila in there?” He asks, his hand resting on your waist. He

“My dad loves tequila.” You reach into the cabinet and pull out a bottle of Don Julio. “Do you want this instead of vodka?” You shiver slightly, feeling his finger on your bare skin where your shirt had ridden up. You have to remind yourself to breath, feeling him so close behind you,

You lean back against him a little and he fucking loves it. He rests his chin on your shoulder as your dad enters the kitchen to grab his own drink. “Instead of vodka please baby.” He tells you, kissing your neck while your dad is in the room.

Closing your eyes, you pretend for a moment that he is kissing you because he wants to. Tilting your head to allow him better access as you uncork the Don. “Of course.” You hum, pouring a generous amount into the lemonade. “You’ll sleep good tonight.”

Dieter kisses your neck one last time, breathing you in, and your dad clears his throat before he makes his way out of the kitchen. “He’s gonna be like that every time I touch you, isn’t he?” Dieter chuckles, taking the drink from your hand.

“He is my dad.” You grin at him, “imagine having a little girl yourself and having some man kissing all over her when she’s grown up but she’s still your baby in your eyes.” The idea of Dieter with a baby is laughable, although you think he would be a fun parent. He would love them unconditionally and let them be themselves and teach them not to apologize for it. Once the diaper phase passed. You can’t see Dieter Bravo changing a diaper.

Dieter hums, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. “True. I kinda get it. Jesus, can you imagine me with a kid?” He snorts, not realizing that you are thinking about just that. He imagines a baby with you, for one brief second, and he knows you’d be an amazing mother. “I know it’s your choice and you get to decide but you’d be an amazing mom. Hell, you put up with my shit.”

You chuckle and raise your brow at him playfully. “Why do you think I don’t have to have kids?” You tease. “I have my own giant man-child I take care of every day.” You wrinkle your nose at him and do the very mature thing - sticking your tongue out at him. “Although you’d be great as a father when they are potty trained.”

Dieter is taken back by your confidence in him being a good dad. He has never really imagined himself being capable. He’s too…Hollywood. He’s flighty at best. Irresponsible. “You think so?” He offers you a shocked look, unsure of why you’d think that.

“Of course.” You shrug. “You aren’t one that would try to fit your kid into a box. You’d let them figure out who they are.” You giggle slightly. “You would just need someone to be the disciplinarian while you’re the cool dad.”

Dieter grins, “someone like you.” He doesn’t realize what he said until he turns around to grab the bag of peas for his hand, flexing his sore knuckles but when it settles on him, he just smiles, turning to see your reaction. “Not that we would ever have a kid. You would never actually be with me.” He snorts, trying to hide the fact that that hurts him a little.

You sigh softly, seeing the flash of hurt that he can’t hide ride over his face before he takes on that ‘careless’ grin of his. “You wouldn’t want to be with me.” You counter. “I’d want you to be sober and not fuck anything that walks.” You remind him. “Despite what you told Dave, I’m not into orgies.”

Dieter bites his lip, “that doesn’t sound too bad. Just one person? Someone to share life with. Someone who wants to be with you even when the shimmer of fame and money has worn off. When the looks are gone and you’re old and wrinkly but they still look at you the same? Someone who knows you intimately and not just from your magazine covers. It’s - it doesn’t sound like a bad thing. The drugs keep me sane in a world that drains me for what I can give it. I’ve - no one has ever asked me what I wanted, only what I can give.”

You bite your lip, feeling the overwhelming urge to hug him. So you do. You take the two paces between you and close them, pulling him into a hug. “It’s because you take what you want.” You joke, wanting him to feel better and not be sad. “You’re Dieter Bravo, and you do what you want, when you want.”

Dieter’s hands hover for a second until he returns the hug, leaning in to bury his face in your neck. He just allows himself this moment to be vulnerable. He trusts you implicitly and he knows you will never tell a soul what he tells you…the NDA you signed backs that up, but he knows you won’t say anything. “Not all the time. Like right now…I want to kiss you, but I know that’s wrong. It would - I don’t want to lose you as my assistant, or from my life.”

Your stomach flips with butterflies and you can’t help but lean into his embrace more. “Of course you want to kiss your ‘girlfriend’.” You murmur. “That’s okay. I’m not going to hold this week against you.”

Dieter leans back to look at you, his dark eyes meeting yours to see any hesitancy in your gaze, and when he finds none, he slowly leans forward. The kiss is soft, unlike anything he’s experienced in recent times, and he kisses you just to kiss you. For nothing more than to feel your lips against his. His kiss is gentle, unhurried, and he tilts your head so he can deepen it just enough to make you breathless.

It’s a fucking sin this man doesn’t just kiss everyone. You don’t hesitate to slip your arms around his neck and let him slowly deepen it. It’s everything you’ve always dreamed about a kiss and it’s almost like the ending love scene in a romance. Except it’s your boss and this isn’t real life. You pull back gently and smile at him, slightly breathless. “Better now?” You ask, wanting to know what he thought.

Dieter still has his eyes closed when you pull back, his heart pounding in his chest and this stupid feeling warms him but he doesn’t know what it is. When his eyes open and he finds you watching him, he can’t stop the silly smile on his face. “Much better.” He offers softly, staring at you. After a moment, he clears his throat and picks up his drink. He’s not sure how he’s gonna survive a week without wanting to constantly kiss you. “I, uh, wouldn’t mind having a shower. Can I - I'm gonna head upstairs.”

“Okay.” You feel a bit off kilter and some space from Dieter would be a good thing. “It’s the door right next to my-uh, our room.” You don’t know how you are going to sleep next to him for a week. “Towels are right there in the closet.” You need to make yourself a drink and calm down.

He nods and doesn’t look back as he heads upstairs, knowing that it’s gonna be difficult to act like you don’t affect him. He’s hard, painfully so, and he rushes to get into the shower so he can get some relief. Until he remembers his bruised knuckles and groans, working his cock with his left hand but it just isn’t the same. He thinks about you, thinks about him fucking you on your parents’ kitchen table, making you cum and moan his name. He’s soon spilling his cum and he washes it off of the wall. After wrapping a towel around his waist, he realizes he didn’t grab his boxers, so he sneaks into your room, hoping your parents aren’t around.

It’s been a long day, you hadn’t wanted to play twenty questions with your parents over why Dave had acted like an asshole, so you had decided to wait for the shower in your bedroom. Wanting to clean up after a flight and the disastrous dinner with Dave before you went to bed. So when Dieter walks into the bedroom, you look over. You’ve seen Dieter naked, many times. You don’t work for a man like him and not see him naked. But there is something about him still wet from his shower and in nothing but a towel that has you oddly flustered. “Oh- I was, uh, waiting for you to take a shower so I could.” You rush out, looking over at the posters so you don’t drool over his chest.

Dieter notices the flustered look on your face and he bites his lip to smother his chuckle. Deciding to tease, he grabs his boxers from his suitcase and drops the towel, displaying his ass to your face and he pulls his boxers on. “Shower is all yours.” He tells you, turning around to see you staring, making him smirk.

He’s your boss. You have to remind yourself of that several times as you gather your own clothes and your travel toiletry bag so you can wash the makeup off and brush your teeth. His ass is cute, in a tiny way but you’ve never minded that. You remind yourself that you’ve seen him in plenty of situations, even walking in on him fucking before. Just because he had punched your ex and talked about being a one partner kind of man didn’t mean Dieter wouldn’t get bored, or want that person to be you.

When you walk back into the bedroom, dressed in your pajamas, Dieter has to bring his knees up under the covers of your bed. They aren’t even silk but your legs on display have him hardening and he knows it’s because it’s you. He’s convinced you could be wearing a potato sack right now and he’d be hard for you. Seeing you in this environment has brought about a different perspective for Dieter. He wants you, he knows that, but he can’t have you when you are instrumental to his daily life.

You never wear sexy things to bed but you are glad of that now. The shorts and t-shirt are nothing fancy but they cover you since you are expected to share a bed with Dieter. “Nice to see you making yourself comfortable.” You tease, seeing him on the side of the bed you normally sleep on. “I take it you’re ready for bed? Have you taken your sleeping pill already?”

Dieter nods, taking off his glasses, and he shifts to lay down in the bed. He took his sleeping pill but he doesn’t really want to go to sleep just yet. He wants to keep talking to you. “You liked Backstreet Boys, huh?” He teases, looking at the posters on your wall before you turn the bedside lamp off on your side.

“Yes. I used to think that I was going to go to their concert and meet AJ and we were going to fall in love and get married.” You laugh at yourself, the painful crush of youth now something that is just a fond memory. “Be serenaded at shows. I actually bought tickets last year for one of their concerts.”

Did you go?" Dieter asks, shifting onto his side to face you.

You bite your lip, hesitant to answer at first. "No. I didn't because, uh, you needed me to get your meds and food because you were in bed sick." You reveal, remembering the exact day because Dieter had a meltdown when you told him you had the evening off.

Dieter frowns, trying to remember that night but then it hits him. He threatened to fire you if you didn't bring him what he wanted. Lost in the haze of drugs and the flu. "Shit. I, uh, I'm sorry baby." That name slips out again, the guilt already eating at him.

“It’s fine.” You shrug like it is no big deal, but it had been the last time you had tried to plan anything on your day off. It wasn’t fair for you to get your hopes up and then stand up the few friends you have. “I let my friends have the tickets so someone could enjoy them.”

Dieter is quiet for several moments. He has already decided he’s gonna make it up to you. He has contacts, perks of his career, so he can surprise you. Maybe he will see if he can pull off a small concert or a meeting. Something for you. “I really am sorry.” He reaches for you, pulling you into his arms so he can hug you. “I realize now that I’ve taken advantage of you and I am going to make it up to you. I couldn’t survive without you.”

The fact that Dieter would say that is surprising and you return his hug easily. Slightly more intimate because you are laying next to one another in a bed, but that is something he has to be used to. “I know.” You joke, grinning against his neck and rubbing his back gently. “You would lose your crocs and cry if I didn’t know your habits.”

Dieter just breathes you in, enjoying the closeness that doesn’t involve sex. It’s been so long since someone just cuddled him without anything else. He sighs your name, nuzzling his nose into your hair, and he closes his eyes. The sleeping pills kick in within about five minutes and he snores, his arms still around you.

You snort softly to yourself. Taking the opportunity to press a kiss to his jaw. Dieter hums and pulls you closer in his sleep and you grin. Closing your eyes, you tuck your head under his chin and get comfortable. Dieter Bravo often sleeps with a hugging pillow and it seems like that pillow is you tonight.

Dieter grunts as he dreams, imagining himself buried deep inside of you, making you moan his name. It’s a dream he’s never had before but right now, he’s hard in his sleep. Grinding against your hip, his cock digs into your flesh as he imagines being buried deep inside of your cunt. “Fuck” escapes his lips and he pants, seeking his high in his dream after watching you cum and moan his name.

You wake up very quickly, feeling his cock against you and it’s tempting to lay there for a moment and let him rut against you in your sleep. But it wouldn’t be right. Not when he is not even awake. Instead of trying to wake him up, you try to ease out of his arms, save him the embarrassment of knowing he was grinding against you in his sleep.

Dieter whines when you pull away from him, his hips thrusting against thin air where you once were and he whines your name. He was so close to cumming, literally one or two more thrusts, but you've disappeared in his dream and his cock aches but he doesn't wake up. Instead, he settles down again, another snore escaping his lips.

Your eyes widen when you hear your name, wondering if he was imagining you. Cunt clenching at the idea, because you had felt how large he was against your hip. Imagining how he would feel inside you. Shuffling off to the side, you press your thighs together and decide you need to shower so you can touch yourself.

When you get out of bed, Dieter wakes up, feeling the loss of your body warmth. When he hears the shower turn on, he slumps against his pillow, his cock aching. Figuring he has some time, he reaches into his boxers, pushing the sheets back so he can wrap his fingers around his cock. Groaning in relief, he starts to pump himself while thinking of you.

As soon as the water was warm enough to step into, you lean against the shower wall and slide your fingers through your folds. You moan softly and bite your lip so no one will hear you, even though the shower is running. Closing your eyes, you imagine Dieter touching you. Actually touching you like it was something both of you wanted, we’re desperate for.

Dieter grunts, biting his lip as he works his cock with his palm. Letting go for a second, he spits into his hand, groaning at the added wetness and he imagines you sinking down onto his cock, those beautiful eyes on him. Shit, he is so close. He glances around, trying to find a tissue or something, but he hisses, jerking himself a little harder until he groans softly.

In your own little fantasy, Dieter is on his knees for you, his tongue buried in your pussy while he begs you to cum so he can fuck you. Whining when your foot presses down on his cock, he grabs your hips and eats you like a man starved. “Oh fuck.” You whimper, feeling the coil in your belly tighten until your orgasm explodes in your veins, making you gasp out as your thighs shake.

Dieter hisses as his cock twitches, his cum painting his stomach and he pants out your name, eyes clenched shut as he imagines burying his cock deep inside of you, filling you up. It’s intoxicating to imagine but impossible and he hates that. He can’t ruin your working relationship. He grabs his t-shirt from the floor, wiping his cum from his skin, sleep threatening to overwhelm him again.

It’s probably wasteful to only shower so you can masturbate, but you clean up and get out. Hoping that you can go back to sleep for a little longer. Dieter is here and won’t be calling you at all hours so you want to take advantage of it.

When you come back into the room, Dieter has his shirt bunched up on the floor, and he is asleep again. His snores echo in the room and he wanted to fall asleep with you in his arms again but orgasms always knock him out. It’s part of why he loves sex so much. Amazing sleep.

You snicker to yourself, sniffing slightly and eyeing him for a moment before you crawl back into the bed. You thought you caught a whiff of something but dismissed it as your guilt conscious. Laying back down beside him and closing your eyes, smiling to yourself as Dieter drools slightly.

****

The noises from downstairs make Dieter groan, his head pounding a little, but fuck, that was the best sleep he has had for a long time. He realizes he is pressed against you, his hard cock pressed against your ass and he feels like a fucking teenager. He hasn't been this constantly hard around a woman since he was seventeen and horny for his housekeeper.

You groan quietly, stretching and pushing back against Dieter behind you. He’s warm, making you hum and snuggle back in that sleepy state where you are half awake. “Morning.” You mumble. “Sleep good?” You had surprisingly gone back to sleep and had the best rest in that extra two hours after your shower. You can feel that he’s hard again against your ass, but it doesn’t make you move away.

Dieter grunts, his hand on your waist squeezes a little tighter and he forgets for a moment that this isn’t real so he leans in to press a kiss on the back of your neck. “Slept really fucking good. You?” His voice is raspy from sleep, his mind still hazy and his cock still hard.

“Me too.” You hum, enjoying the tenderness even though there is no one to witness it. It makes you feel special and you can see why people are so upset when Dieter drops them.

Dieter kisses your neck again, still lost in the haze and he shifts to settle between your legs, resting his weight on his elbows as he kisses along the exposed skin of your chest up to your neck. You tilt your head when he kisses along your jaw and he presses his lips to yours. When you gasp, allowing his tongue to dip into your mouth. After a moment, his senses return and he realizes he is going too far, and he is going to ruin everything. He pulls back, scrambling to get off of you and he rushes out of your room with a “I’m so sorry” and he hides in the bathroom.

You frown, sitting up and staring at the door for a moment. Dieter never flees from intimacy, he seeks it out. It’s just another point to prove to you that he doesn’t want you. Dave’s words echo in your head and you wonder if he might not be right. If you aren’t good enough for him. Sighing softly, you climb out of the bed and open your bag to start getting dressed. It doesn’t matter, this is all just a show for your parents.

Dieter locks the door, his heart pounding, and he stares at himself in the mirror. “What the fuck are you doing? You’re gonna lose her if you fuck up again.” He mutters, shaking his head. His hair is sticking up everywhere and his cock is still hard. You felt so good beneath him, you felt like everything he ever wanted and it’s killing him because he can’t have you. This isn’t real. You just want to fool your parents.

You dress and wonder how long Dieter will be in the bathroom. You don’t want him to be upset. You know this is a role for him. Instead of knocking, you set the clothes out for him and go downstairs to get some coffee.

When Dieter comes downstairs after getting dressed, he sees you at the kitchen table with your mom, and he feels awkward. He wanted to kiss you this morning without your parents around. He swallows harshly and leans down to kiss your forehead. “Morning baby.” He smiles at your mom, “morning mama.” He winks playfully at her, deciding to revert to his tried and true acting skills.

You grin when your mother flusters and flaps her hand at Dieter. He’s already won her over, and you know that will go a long way to winning your dad over. “Morning baby.” You get up to make Dieter a cup of coffee the way he normally takes it.

Dieter sits down, watching you as you get him a cup of coffee and he decides he's gonna take you out for lunch. Let you show him your hometown. He wants to see everything. "Thank you." Dieter kisses your cheek when you set the cup down and sit beside him.

"Oh you two are adorable. I am sure there will be wedding bells soon." Your mom winks at Dieter who chuckles, "you never know."

“Mom.” You roll your eyes and shake your head. “Dieter doesn’t want to get married.” You had heard him rant about that ad nauseam when he was high. “He’s got to make sure to protect himself and marriage is actually a bad idea for someone who has as much as he does.”

Dieter frowns, “I, uh, well, that’s not strictly true. I could get a prenup and I was married once before.” He reminds you, shuddering a little at how much that shit cost him. “The next time I get married, I want it to be for love. No prenup. No big ceremony. Just focusing on the emotions.” He reveals one of his deepest desires.

“Dieter….” You frown at him, shaking your head. “No matter who you marry, you need to get a prenup.” You insist. “You have worked extremely hard for what you have, I want you to promise me that.”

Dieter reaches for your hand, “I promise.” He knows better than to argue with you and he leans closer to kiss your forehead. “Baby, I promise you we will sign a prenup.” He smiles, albeit a little sadly since it won’t be you at the end of the aisle. Shit, that was a thought he hasn’t had before. For a brief moment, he imagines marrying you. It would be easy to marry you. You know all of his bad habits, you know him inside and out and yet you haven’t abandoned him like anyone else.

“Oh. You two are adorable.” Your mom coos, reaching out to rub your back.

“I, uh, I want you to show me around your town. Then I want to get lunch.” Dieter says after you clear your throat.

You bite your lip, knowing Dieter probably wants to get away from your parents so he can get high. It’s been a day and for him that’s normally as long as he lasts before he has to take something to take the edge off. “That sounds good. Mom?” You turn towards your mother. “Do you need us to pick up anything while we are out? Last minute things before the store gets crazy?”

“Maybe you could get butter? I’m running low and I might need some for the turkey.” Your mom says and you nod. Dieter sips his coffee, ready to be alone with you again. He feels pressure around your parents and he wants to just be with you without the pressure.

“Of course.” You turn to Dieter. “I’ll go brush my teeth and everything and then I’ll be ready.” One thing you love about coming home is not wearing makeup for a few days. Not feeling like you have to look a certain way. It’s nice.

Dieter smiles at your mom, finishing off his coffee, and your mom leans closer to him. "So...are you planning to propose soon? You look like you are both so in love and I love seeing my baby girl happy." Dieter bites his lip, hating to lie for once in his life. Your mother is a kind woman and he knows he has to act his ass off. "Soon. I, uh, I've been seriously thinking about it." He reveals to her, making her beam.

“I think that’s wonderful.” Your mother hums happily. “You know, she’s loved being with you. Since she’s started working for you. She had a huge crush on you for years, so this is like a dream for her.” She reveals, recalling how you had gushed over his work when you were younger and moving out to L.A. When you had gotten your job working for Dieter, you had been ecstatic.

Dieter is surprised to hear that you had a crush on him. He always thought that you bitched about him any chance you could get so to hear you talking positively about your work, his heart is pounding in his chest. Dieter opens his mouth but before he can respond, you enter the kitchen with your purse and coat. "Ready baby?" You ask and he stands up. Your mom winks at him and Dieter offers her a grin as he grabs his own coat from your arms, gathering his boots from the mudroom.

“So where do you want to go first?” You ask after the two of you are out of the house and in your rental car. There wasn’t much to really do but you are willing to show him whatever he wants. “I can take you to my favorite hangout spot when I was a teenager.” You offer.

“I’m up for anything baby. You show me where you used to go. I just - I want to see what your life was like growing up here. I’ve never experienced a small town so I want to know everything, see everything. Even if it’s the library.” Dieter tells you, watching as you drive the rental car. He admires your profile, thinking you look so beautiful without makeup. Natural and gorgeous.

You grin, looking over at him before you turn on your blinker to take him over to your favorite little spot out in the park. It’s shaded, a perfect reading spot and it’s where you used to just get away. “This was always my happy place.” You tell him as you park the car.

Dieter looks around, already grabbing the door handle, and he is out before you can stop him. He stands on your favorite spot, closing his eyes, and he just enjoys the breeze, the silence. He fucking loves it. No wonder you loved being here. "It's beautiful." He says, opening his eyes to look at you when you appear beside him.

He looks relaxed. Even more so than he does when he’s blitzed out of his mind. It makes you smile, reaching for his hand and tugging him over to the spot you normally spread a blanket out. You had picked up one out of the mud room and grinned when you pulled it out of the oversized bag you always carry. “I always imagined dates out here.” You tell him. “Picnics and reading. Simple and intimate.”

"One day...when you actually find a man who deserves you." Dieter says, looking at you, and he offers you a soft smile. "This place...gives me a sense of calm. I don't even want to get high." He confesses, biting his lip as he watches you enjoy your spot. "I hope your parents like me."

“You’ve won over my mom.” You lean back and close your eyes with a smile on your face. “She always wanted to meet you, not because you are famous, but because I was ‘with’ you.”

“Your dad is another subject.” He guesses with a sigh, making you nod. “I’m trying. I don’t - I haven’t really had a lot of experience dealing with ‘in laws’ so I guess I gotta pull out the big shots to impress him later. Maybe I can get someone on the phone. Any actors he is a fan of?” Dieter asks, wanting to impress your dad.

“To be honest, I don’t know if he has any.” You joke, shrugging your shoulders. “He’s dad. He just wants to make sure that I’m okay.” You promise him. “He’s a little more difficult because I’m his little girl.”

Dieter nods, although he doesn’t quite understand that mentality. “Christ, look at us. I think we’ve acted so well during this that we almost think we are a real couple.” Dieter chuckles softly, even though his mind goes back to last night when he woke up and jerked off thinking of you.

You snort. “Because you are a damn good actor.” You praise him. “I think hitting Dave really sold it.” You smirk to yourself, mad at the other man more now than you had been at the time. “Just don’t let mom’s comments bother you. She thinks everyone should be married.”

“Dave’s a dick.” Dieter scoffs, looking down at his bruised knuckles that don’t hurt anymore unless he flexes his hand. “As for your mom, she just wants you to be happy. I wish my parents loved me like that.” He sighs, “they just wanted what I could give them.” He looks at you, noticing the leaf that’s fallen onto your jacket and he reaches out to remove it.

Humming, you crack an eye open and then close it again, completely trusting him. “Dieter, you are so much more than what you can give someone or your performances.” You promise him softly. “One day you’re going to find someone you want to be with and they are going to love you, not because you’re Dieter Bravo, but because under the drugs and bullshit, you are wonderful.”

Dieter chuckles, cupping your cheek. “You are just saying that. I know I’m the biggest pain in your ass and I don’t pay you enough to deal with me. I know - I was a dick to even demand that you didn’t come home for Thanksgiving. I know now that it was wrong and you can have any time off for holidays with your family. After we tell them we are broken up.” He adds, biting his lip as his thumb rubs your cheek.

You snort and shake your head. “I’m not doing that anytime soon.” You promise him. “When I tell my parents I’m single again, it will be nothing but trying to tell me all about the nice boy she met at the grocery store or asking when I’m going to settle down.” You huff, hating how your parents think you need to be with someone to be happy.

“Is that what you want? To settle down? Find a husband and have kids?” Dieter asks seriously, wondering if that’s what you are looking for. Or if it’s something only your parents want for you. He lowers his hand to rest on the blanket, shifting a little closer to you.

“Maybe.” You sigh softly and shrug slightly. “I can’t see anyone being cool with my work schedule.” You admit quietly. “And I don’t want to stop working for you. You drive me crazy sometimes.” You open your eyes just to roll them at Dieter playfully. “But I’ve also done things I would have never done because of you and I’m not giving that up.”

Dieter smiles at you, happy he’s given you opportunities. “One day…if you ever do find someone and you want to be free of me, I’ll let you go. I never want to hold you back…even from me.” He tells you, “I want you to have everything you’ve ever dreamed of.”

You frown slightly and shake your head. “My dreams have changed.” You remind him. “I only want kids with someone who wants to have an adventure with me. Not having the wife and kids and house as a status symbol.” You huff. “It seems like that’s all most men want if they want kids. They don’t want to actually raise them.”

Dieter nods in understanding, “I get that. I wouldn’t want kids with someone who just wants to be with me for my money or what I can provide. I want to be a good father if I ever get the chance. Be better than my parents but I know I have my own issues. I’m working on it.” He sighs and brushes his fingers through his hair.

“Yeah, you’ve cut back on the drugs since rehab.” You offer with an encouraging smile. Dieter would probably never not have some small chemical dependency, or if he does, it would be a lifetime commitment. “You just need to remember that everyone makes mistakes and it doesn’t mean you’ve failed.”

God, your words make his heart flutter and he knows you believe in him which is more than he can say for most people in his life. You truly care about him, want to help him, and he can’t stop himself from surging forward to press his lips to yours.

Gasping in surprise, you don’t push him away. Maybe there’s someone nearby for him to convince that you are a couple. Instead, you just lean into the fantasy for a moment. Sliding your arm around the back of his neck and pulling him closer like it’s a scene from a romance. Moaning softly into the kiss, you can’t deny that Dieter is a fantastic kisser.

Dieter groans into the kiss, sliding his tongue into your mouth and his cock hardens in his pants. You intoxicate him more than any drug ever could. He grabs your waist, shifting to lay you down on the blanket and he presses his body on top of yours, kissing along your jaw. “Fuck baby.” He groans into your neck.

Fuck. Dieter is slowly grinding against you and you feel the way he’s hard. For a moment, you want to believe that this is real. “Ahem.” The clearing of a throat makes you jump, eyes springing open again and you see one of the local deputies looking down at you. Another person you know from high school. “Hate to interrupt, but…..”

Dieter shifts to sit up, his hair muddled from your fingers and he reaches down to adjust himself. “We were just making out.” Dieter defends himself.

The officer sighs, “sir this is a public park and we simply cannot allow - wait…aren’t you Dieter Bravo?” The cop asks and Dieter nods, shifting to stand up and he reaches to help you stand up too. “I freaking loved you in Cliff Beasts 6.” The officer exclaims and Dieter wants to laugh because he didn’t enjoy that movie at all. The script, the making of it, the aftermath. All sucked. Plus you weren’t with him because production didn’t allow assistants on set due to Covid regulations.

“Thanks.” Dieter offers the officer.

“What are you doing here?” His eyes finally shift over to you and he says your name. “What are you doing making out with Dieter Bravo?” He demands, almost eager for gossip.

You glance at Dieter and look back at Pete. You think his name is Pete. “We are home for Thanksgiving.” You explain. “Just showing Dieter around town, he’s here to meet my parents.”

“My beautiful girlfriend and I are just taking a moment to ourselves.” Dieter winks at you and wraps his arm around your waist.

Pete’s eyes widen, “you - you are dating Dieter Bravo? Wow. L.A really was the best choice for you, huh? I know Dave was depressed when you left.”

Dieter scoffs at the name ‘Dave’.

You reach out and pat Dieter’s arm. “It’s okay.” You soothe him before you look back at Pete. “They met yesterday. Dave was….less than kind so he’s not Dieter’s favorite person.” You explain with an almost proud smirk. “Sorry, we got caught up in the moment.”

“It’s okay. Hey, uh, do you think I could get an autograph?” Pete asks Dieter who nods, “sure man.” Pete grabs his booklet and hands it to Dieter along with the pen. Dieter quickly signs it for Pete, so used to doing this it’s second nature and when he hands it back to the officer, he beams. “Thanks so much man. You kids be careful.” He jokes, winking at you before he strides off.

“Well that’s going to be talked about all over town.” You huff, slightly embarrassed at being caught making out with Dieter. “Sorry.” You know that no one in your town has the connections to make this appear in gossip rags, but you’re sure Dieter doesn’t want to be connected with you beyond your parents.

Dieter chuckles, “you and I both know I’ve had worse stories in the papers thanks to the paps. They even got me naked once so being caught making out with the most beautiful woman in town was not the worst story to be spread about me. In fact, I kinda like this one.” Dieter winks at you, reaching for your hand.

You snort, not believing his comment but you are flattered nonetheless. “Maybe we should get out of here before we are overrun with curious gawkers.” You squeeze his hand reluctantly. “I know Pete will tell everyone he sees and you’re the biggest celebrity they’ve ever had here. The last one was some college football coach.”

Dieter chuckles, “fine. Come on hot stuff. Let’s go.” He grabs the blanket, folding it up, “besides, your mom will be waiting on the butter and I can’t disappoint your mama.” He grins, wanting to please your mom.

“Very true.” You wonder how long it’s been since Dieter has run errands like picking up butter. Normally he whines when he’s out of something he likes but he just has it delivered. “We can pick up something to cook for dinner. I normally make something for my parents when I come home.”

“Okay baby. That’s okay. Let’s go.” He’s kinda excited to just go to the grocery store. He hasn’t been for years and he is intrigued to see how things have possibly changed. You’re soon in the car and driving to the store. Dieter looks out the window at your town, the Christmas lights are up and Dieter wouldn’t mind seeing them on. “Can we come back later or another time to see the lights?” He asks you.

“Actually….” You grin as you look over at him peering out the window at the lights. “Every Thanksgiving night there is a huge Christmas light ceremony.” You explain. “It will be the first night the lights are turned on, they have vendors out here with hot chocolate and Santa’s ‘sleigh’ hay rides.” You have been looking forward to it. “It’s always fun.”

“Really?” Dieter’s eyes widen. “We gotta go to that. Please, can we go?” He asks like an over eager kid, desperate to see the lights turn on. He doesn’t do that shit back in L.A. Too many people rush him and he can’t handle the fucking influencers who have taken over everything in his home town.

“I was going to ask if you wanted to.” You promise, giggling slightly at his enthusiasm. “So yes, we’ll go and I’ll even get you tickets to sit on Santa’s lap.” You tease playfully.

Dieter offers you an indulgent look, “don’t tempt me baby.” He winks and you giggle, turning into the supermarket parking lot. He is excited and his stomach twists with something he isn’t familiar with when he looks at you. It’s too easy to believe you’re together, that this is all real. “I know what I’m gonna wish for.” He tells you with a wink.

You snort, putting the car in park and turning it off. “Well, you’ve already won an Oscar. So are we talking about a drug that doesn’t pop on a test? Or a year of no paternity claims?” Since he was famous, he had plenty of women come out and try to claim that he’s the father of their children. It always stressed him out and you hated it.

Dieter chuckles, albeit a little sadly, for those situations he puts himself in. When he thinks about it, he’s not entirely sure if it’s worth it. He has everything and nothing at the same time. Seeing you with your family…he yearns for that and he supposes he shoved down those feelings for years. “No. I, uh, I would wish for a family like yours.”

“Oh my family isn’t perfect.” You promise, pulling into the small grocery store parking lot and searching for a spot. The pre-Thanksgiving bustle has started and there’s plenty of cars already crowding the lot. “They are nosy and can drive me insane.” You laugh.

“Doesn’t matter. That’s what families are supposed to do and I - I miss that. I miss just having people there who love you unconditionally. I wish I had that. You’re lucky, even if your parents annoy the shit out of you, they love you so much.”

You hate that Dieter feels like he doesn’t have anyone like that for him. You both climb out of the car and it’s almost natural to walk around the front and hold out your hand for him to take. “I promise you that you will have that when you want it.” You murmur softly. “I know it will happen, you’re too good of a man for it not to.”

Dieter squeezes your hand, “thank you baby. One day.” He watches you for a moment as you grab a shopping basket and he imagines doing this with you every Sunday, just enjoying time together. Fuck, either he’s method acting or he’s getting too deep.

“What’s something you haven’t eaten in a long time?” You ask Dieter suddenly, wanting to make a meal he looks forward to eating. Obviously he would have to pretend he eats it all the time, but something special for him. “Anything you want.”

Dieter bites his lip, “it’s, uh, something kinda simple but I haven’t had it in a long time. Not since my grandma died.” He admits, hoping you can cook it but he’s not expecting it. “She always made the most amazing fried chicken and mashed potatoes.”

“Fried chicken and mashed potatoes?” You grin happily, knowing you can easily make that for him. “Done. Do you want green beans, Brussels sprouts, creamed spinach or collard greens with it?” You ask, knowing he needs some vegetable to go with it and Dieter hates salads. You guess it’s from all the people who live off salads in Hollywood.

Dieter thinks for a moment, “green beans.” He tells you, groaning at just the idea. Despite his usually healthy diet, he hates the fucking Hollywood rule that everyone has to be thin and fit. He used to be when he first started out but weight is getting harder to lose and after winning an Oscar, he finds himself giving less of a shit. His agent can get him jobs that allow for his form because he’s not going on one of those ridiculous diets.

Nodding, you steer the cart towards the fruits and vegetables. “Don’t worry, it will be good, I promise.” You grin at his skeptic look and pick up a produce bag so you can get some fresh green beans. “I sauté the green beans with onions and some bacon. Not healthy at all.” You tease playfully.

Dieter grins, “I love the way you think, baby.” He leans in to kiss your cheek just as a blonde woman appears with her cart beside you, saying your name. Dieter immediately doesn’t like the look of her.

You want to groan, but you don’t. Instead, you force a smile on your face as you turn towards the girl who had tried her hardest to make high school miserable for you. One of the reasons you left home and broke up with Dave. “Hi.” You offer simply, knowing it will piss her off to not be introduced to Dieter or any man really.

“Are you Dieter Bravo?” She gasps, noticing who you are with and Dieter wraps his arm around your waist, making her eyes widen. “Oh wow. I did hear a rumor that you were back in town but I never imagined you’d be - you would be hosting an Oscar Winning actor.” Janine says with a seductive smile towards Dieter.

Hosting. Your smile widens slightly and you turn to run your hand up Dieter’s stomach and across his chest. “Not exactly hosting.” You purr, leaning in and kissing his jaw, right where no hair grows. You’ve always loved that little spot. “Introducing Dieter to my parents.” You turn your head and roll your eyes slightly. “You know ‘meet the parents’ and all that.”

Janine’s eyes widen but she manages to school her features into a smile that most actors would be jealous of. Dieter offers her a smile and she looks between you. “That’s…unexpected. When I heard you were heading to L.A after breaking up with Dave, I figured you’d fail and come back.” She barks out a fake laugh, and Dieter keeps his grip on you tight. “Let alone find yourself an actor boyfriend.”

“Well I didn’t go to become an actress.” Your voice is sugar sweet and your smile sharp. “I just get the perks of traveling around the world while making sure Dieter has everything he needs.”

Dieter smirks, “oh she gives me everything I need.” He winks at you, his hand sliding down to squeeze your ass and Janine chuckles softly.

“Oh. I see. It’s just sex. Makes sense. Sex on tap since she travels with you.”

Dieter clenches his jaw, “that is not accurate. She blows my mind in bed but she also blows my mind with how kind she is, she’s fucking smart as hell and I wouldn’t survive without her. So don’t make assumptions when you are still stuck in this small town with your…let me guess, star footballer husband who knocked you up right after high school and he’s balding and fat and you are a resentful housewife trying to get your kicks insulting others who have been successful in their life without popping out a baby at 20 and depending on a man for their livelihood.”

Your eyes widen slightly with how on point Dieter is. Reading Janice like a book and it's a personal treat to watch her face turn a mottled red as the insult strikes home. Her face twists in anger and she huffs. "At least I didn't OD for the entire world to see while begging everyone for sex on set." She sneers, smirking over towards you. "You couldn't satisfy Dave so of course you couldn't satisfy a movie star." She gives a cruel little chuckle.

“Oh sweetheart. She satisfies me enough to make me an honest man. I guess you can’t say the same for your husband. Who was it? Next door neighbor? The nanny?” Dieter snorts, “Jesus. You’re the epitome of a suburban doormat wife and yet this beautiful woman here will be returning to L.A with me where we will enjoy the finest food in this country before I eat her out on my twenty thousand dollar sofa. Make her cream before she cums again on my cock. I’m sorry your husband hasn’t fucked you in months. You must have cobwebs down there by now. Anywho. We have stuff to do. My girlfriend is cooking us dinner tonight and then later, I’m gonna have dessert.” Dieter waggles his eyebrows.

You snort and slap your hand over your mouth while Janice turns and storms off. Shaking with laughter as you turn towards a smug looking Dieter. "Just make friends wherever you go, don't you?" You ask playfully, making him roll his eyes and huff.

"She's a bitch." He snarks, making you nod in agreement.

"Thank you." You murmur, leaning in to kiss his cheek. "I hate her and you just made sure she won't talk to me ever again."

“You wouldn’t have to deal with these people again if it were up to me. Rude assholes. They are just jealous baby because they let this small town own them and ruin their dream. They didn’t take risks because they were shit scared but you, my brave beautiful girl, took risks and they paid off. Fuck them. Let’s go find the ice cream aisle. I wonder if they have a Christmas flavor.” He quickly moves on, grabbing your hand again to guide you down the aisle even though he’s never been here before.

You grin as you watch him walk with such confidence. He’s Dieter fucking Bravo and no one could hurt him. His armor in place and his cockiness even sexier now that you’ve had him stick up for you, protect you. “I’m sure they do.” You promise him with a wink.

****

Back at home, Dieter helps you with the groceries and is now watching you prepare the dinner while he sits at the kitchen table. “Are you sure you don’t want me to help?” He asks, your mom sipping on her glass of wine while she reads.

You lift a brow at him and smirk, knowing he doesn’t have a clue what to do in the kitchen. “Sure baby.” You purr and wink at him. “Why don’t you peel and chop the potatoes?” You offer as you turn to the spice cabinet to pull out the seasonings you need for the chicken.

Dieter comes to stand by you, grabbing the potato peeler, and he bites his lip as he tries to figure out how to use it. “Um…can you show me how to- uh, how to use it.” He asks, feeling a little embarrassed.

“Sure baby.” You keep your voice low so your mom doesn’t hear and take the peeler and the potato from him. “I know I spoil you and do it, but maybe we can cook together from now on.” You hum as you show him how to use it.

“I’d like that. I want to learn how to do some things for myself. Give you more of a break.” He murmurs back, stroking your back with his hand and he watches you show him how to peel the potato. Biting his lip, he takes over, nearly slicing off his finger but you tell him to be careful and he nods, working on peeling the potatoes for you.

You keep an eye on him as you wash the chicken and set it to soak in buttermilk and hot sauce. Mixing up the flour and seasonings in another bowl. Moving to crack the eggs to make the egg wash for it. “You’re doing great.” You promise him. “Soon you’ll be making me dinner and I’ll get to watch. It’s really sexy to see a man cooking for you. Reaches that cavewoman hindbrain.” You tease, making your mom snort and nod.

“Yes it does. Your father is very happy when he cooks for me.”

You sputter, nearly choking on your own spit. “Mom!”

Dieter chuckles, winking at your mom. “He’s a lucky man. I hope me and this one can be as happy as you guys are after being together for so long.” Dieter kisses the side of your head as he finishes peeling the potatoes.

You are still slightly horrified about your parents but you still manage to smirk. You would have to be together for that to happen but it’s still a sweet idea. “I’m the only one who can handle you.” You joke, bumping your hip against his.

“True.” Dieter grins at you, wishing this was real. It would be so easy if it was real. He would be with you and he could be himself. You know everything about him, even his worst moments. He stops moving and just looks at you, admiring your profile.

“What? Do I have something on my face?” You ask and Dieter shakes his head. Your mom watches with a grin on her face, pleased to see that lovesick look on Dieter.

Cooking with Dieter, or around him really, is fun. Your mom shares her bottle of wine and laughs as Dieter jokes and tells her stories, some you’ve never even heard. Often ones that involve you and you are surprised that he’s paid attention at all.

When the dinner is served, Dieter kisses your cheek to thank you and when he digs in, his groans reverberate and he can’t believe how fucking good this is. “Good?” You chuckle and he nods, swallowing the mouthful he had.

“Fucking incredible. Shit, sorry.” He apologizes to your parents.

You mom scoffs and just waves at Dieter as if it’s not a problem. “Everyone curses.” She tuts and your dad snorts to himself, remembering when she had scolded him when he was working on the lawn mower. Apparently she was really enamored with your boyfriend and your dad smiles at you.

“I bet you cook for him a lot, don’t you?” He asks. “She loved experimenting and cooking for us as a teen and her skills have improved a lot.”

Dieter sighs, “I wish but I have so many work dinners and we are away traveling so home cooked meals are hard to come by, especially when she doesn’t live with me.” Dieter says without even thinking about it.

“I have to admit I find that odd.” Your mother admits. “I thought all young people lived together now?”

You blow out a raspberry and roll your eyes. “Mom. Not everyone does and I already work with Dieter. It’s so we have some space. Besides, he would get sick of me waking him up early.”

Dieter realizes his fuck and tries to rescue it, “we, uh, we find it works best for us. Fondness makes the heart grow fonder but I’ve been thinking of asking her to move in with me. We have just been used to living alone but I gotta admit, I hate sleeping alone. I want her next to me.”

You want to throw him a glare but your parents would see that. Great. Now they’re going to be wondering when you are moving in with Dieter. “Babe….you completely panicked when you asked your last partner to spend a weekend.” You remind him sweetly. “I understand and it’s completely okay. I know you love me.”

Dieter frowns at that but doesn’t argue, knowing your parents would find an argument strange. “We will talk about it.” He settles on that as you continue eating the meal. He’s disappointed that you don’t want to move in with him, even though this is a fake relationship, it’s starting to feel more and more real.

You sigh slightly, seeing the unhappy look on Dieter’s face. You know that he is putting on a performance but it’s so convincing that you want to rush to assure him that you will move in with him. Crazy because you have never thought that before but it is feeling like you are actually with him. Your stomach twists and you’re getting butterflies like you would if you were. This was a bad idea because you can feel yourself falling for him and after Thanksgiving is over, things are going to go back to normal and you’re going to be in love with your boss.

****

Dieter looks up from his phone as you walk into the bedroom. Dinner was awkward but manageable and Dieter relented to checking his phone even though he hates the damn thing. He had a few emails from his PR agent about him being in this town for Thanksgiving. Apparently people have posted photos of him with you. Dieter tosses the phone aside, watching you get ready for bed. “Dinner was delicious.”

“Good.” You grin, happy that he had enjoyed it, he had eaten two large plates and you’ve alway loved when people like what you make. “I can always make it for you at home sometime.” You offer easily. Moving over to your suitcase, you pull out your sleep clothes and start to change. He’s seen plenty of women and men naked so it’s not like it will affect him. It’s better than running to the bathroom to change and having your parents questioning why you won’t change in front of the man you supposedly sleep with.

Dieter swallows harshly, throat suddenly dry as he watches you change into your pajamas and his cock twitches as his eyes focus on your ass. He shouldn’t be looking but fuck he can’t help it. You’re gorgeous and he wants you but he can’t have you. “That - that would be nice.” He chokes out, watching you bend to pull the bottoms up, covering your ass.

“God I’ve forgotten how restrictive it feels to sleep with clothes on.” You grumble to yourself, making Dieter choke. “Sorry.” You look over your shoulder. “I would keep pajamas out so when you called me from your hotel room I could throw them on, but I usually sleep in panties or nothing.”

That makes Dieter hard and he places his hands in his lap to hide his problem. It’s not fair, you didn’t ask for this reaction and he won’t ask you if you want to help him. That would be crossing a line he promised himself he wouldn’t with you to protect your professional relationship. “Me, uh, me too usually.”

“I know.” You can’t help but give a little giggle. “You’ve given me plenty of free shows when you’re asleep, but it’s very different when that monster is pressed up against you.” You tease, grinning when he flushes slightly. It’s cute that he’s embarrassed even though he wouldn’t normally be.

Dieter clears his throat, “sorry about that. I’m sure you didn’t want that. I, um, have been dreaming so it’s hard to control it during my sleep. If that happens, just slap me. Wait, no, don’t do that. I might cum.” He chuckles awkwardly, “just shake me.”

You giggle again and you can’t help tease him a little. “So now I know you like when I threaten to hit you.” You joke. “‘Ohhh I’ll have you put on a cock ring so you don’t cum.”

“Don’t tease me baby.” He begs, his tone whiny as he imagines you don’t just that. “I’m serious. I can’t - I dreamed about you, okay?” He admits Like you tortured it out of him.

“I know.” You’re a little smug about that when he frowns at you. “You were moaning my name while you were grinding against me.”

Dieter groans and closes his eyes. “I’m so sorry- I-“

You interrupt him, shaking your head. “Don’t be. I had to get up and get in the shower.” You confess quietly. “Otherwise I was going to jump my boss while he was sleeping.”

Dieter opens his eyes in surprise, staring at you with his jaw open, and when he asks you if that is something you'd want, you nod. Processing for just a moment, Dieter can't hold back. He surges forward to press his lips to yours, cupping the back of your neck as his lips slide against yours.

You whine, surprised that he is so eager, but you quickly close your eyes. Giving into the moment even though you know this is a bad idea. Your boss shouldn’t be touching you like this but you don’t care. You’ve felt him against you and you want to feel him inside you. “Dieter.” You gasp as he kisses down your jaw and bites your chin. “I want- fuck, will you have sex with me?” You beg quietly.

Dieter groans at your words, the words he dreamed of last night. “Yes, but first I want to taste you. Get naked. Now.” He demands, reaching for the hem of your tank top and when he flings it across the room, he ducks his head down to take one of your nipples into his mouth.

You shudder against his mouth, gasping out his name loudly before you remember you’re in your parents house. You don’t want them to hear you although it makes you even wetter to think about Dieter fucking you in your childhood bed. You reach down to try and shove the shorts and your panties down, shuffling under him to kick them off as you shamelessly writhe against his hardening cock. “Dieter….” You whine when he bites down on your nipple and your hand slides down to plunge under his boxers and wrap around his cock.

Dieter moans and tries to bite his lip to smother it as you grip his cock. “Fuck baby.” He grunts, taking your other nipple into his mouth, and he hisses your name when he releases it with a pop. Pushing your hand from his boxers, he shifts to lay between your legs, shoving your thighs apart and he groans at the sight of your pussy. “Beautiful cunt.” He comments before diving in, his tongue flattening between your folds.

Your eyes roll back and you whimper at the feeling of his mouth on you. That fucking annoyingly talented mouth. Sassy and bitchy at times but his tongue slides around your clit like a fucking pro, surprising you because you had always assumed Dieter wouldn’t want to take the time to eat someone out. “Oh fuck, oh fuck baby, it’s so good.”

He’s pleased at your praise, encouraging him to suck your clit into his mouth, sucking hard, and he groans when you tangle your fingers in his hair. He hisses against your wet flesh and he grinds his cock against your mattress while his tongue pushes deep inside of you.

“Fuck.” Your fingers tangle into his hair and you tug on it, needing him to make you cum. It’s better than your own finger and a toy. “Dieter, baby, please.” You beg, rolling your hips down frantically.

Dieter shifts so he can push two fingers into your cunt, his lips focusing again on your clit and he flicks his tongue over the bundle of nerves while his dark eyes focus on you. "Cum for me." He mutters, curling his fingers as he sucks on your clit.

You bite your lip, falling over the edge as his mouth drags you higher. Pulling you under the waves of pleasure and you have to let go of his hair to shove your fist in your mouth so you don’t scream out his name. Thighs clapping around his ears as you cum for him.

Dieter nearly cums from the way you have to bite down on your hand to smother your cries and he groans, working you through the orgasm until you are pushing him away and he shoves his fingers into his mouth so he can taste your orgasm that he caused. “Baby. I, uh, I don’t have a condom.” He grunts, kissing your thigh for a moment.

“Don’t care.” You gasp out. You know Dieter, when the last time he’s had sex was. And you took him to get tested for the insurance for the movie he’s going to be in after the holidays. You know he’s clean. “I- I have an IUD. I promise I don’t have anything.” You will completely understand if he doesn’t want to have sex without protection. Dieter is very conscious about that, given the number of women who try to claim their children are his. “But I can suck you off if you don’t want to-“

Dieter doesn’t even think about that, he just needs to be inside of you. “I trust you.” He promises, shifting to kneel between your thighs, gripping his cock and he starts to jerk himself while he looks down at you. “You sure?” He asks and you nod, “yes.” With that, he shuffles closer and brushes your clit with the head of his cock, making you moan. With a chuckle, he notches the head at your entrance and starts to slowly push into you. Shifting onto his elbows so he can press his lips to yours.

You moan into his mouth, hands gripping his shoulders and your nails dig half crescent moons into his skin. It’s perfect. Your legs wrap around Dieter’s waist, opening yourself up more so he can push deeper. “Fuck baby.”

He can’t speak. He just closes his eyes and pants against your jaw as he sinks into the tightest, warmest cunt he’s ever experienced. Maybe it’s because it’s you but he groans your name, stilling for a moment when he is fully inside of you.

All you can hear is his panted breathes in your ear. Shuddering at the way he fills you, you ache in the perfect way that will linger far after you’re done. “Fuck baby, you’re so good. God, your so big inside me. Filling me up.” You babble, needing to tell him how good it is, to make up for his total silence.

“Cos you’re so fucking tight.” Dieter practically wheezes as he starts to move. His hand grips your thigh, tilting your leg so he can get impossibly deeper and he’s in no rush, slowly rocking into you. You are soaking wet and it squelches with each thrust, making his cock twitch. “You’re so beautiful.” He murmurs, looking down at you before he kisses your jaw.

You hadn’t expected this. You had expected fast, frantic. Rushing to find pleasure since being told that he can fuck you. You whimper, rocking your hips up to match his rhythm. “I- fuck.” You are nearly overwhelmed by the slow drag of his cock against your walls, consumed by it. Pushing everything out of your head except the pulsing of his cock inside you and warmth in his eyes as he looks down at you.

Dieter hisses when you clench around him when he hits a spot inside of you that makes your eyes roll back. He clenches his jaw, focusing on that spot. His thrusts become deeper but no faster as he focuses on making you cum. He is usually a selfish lover but right now, his goal is for you to have a good time. He kisses your lips, sliding his tongue into your mouth for a languid kiss.

Over and over again Dieter steals your breath. Every deep thrust pushing into you and striking nirvana inside you. Your hands start to pull at him, sliding up and down his back as you silently demand more. Needing more from him now that you are allowed to have it.

Dieter gets the message, picking up the pace and he keeps his hips focused on that spot. His lips kiss along your neck, nipping and biting between kisses that he wants to sear into your skin so you never forget this. “Fuck baby. Want you to cum.”

“Going to.” You gasp out, clenching down around him again when he hits that perfect spot again. “Gonna- gonna cum all over that big dick.” You turn your head to kiss his lips, suddenly biting down on the bottom one to make him hiss. “Soak you.”

“Do it.” His response is slightly muffled by your mouth but you hear it. Two thrusts later and you do just that, soaking his cock as you clamp down on him. Making it almost impossible for him to work you through it but he tries, thrusting deep as you cry out his name.

You know your parents hear you, you know it. You’re being too loud but right now you don’t care. All you can care about is how perfect it feels. Making you choke back a sob when you realize this might only be a one time thing.

Dieter groans when you cling to him, pushing deep over and over until he stills above you, burying his cock deep inside of you as he paints your walls with his cum, your name is a grunt that escapes his lips.

You whine, loving the hot rush if his cum coating your insides. “Oh god.” You pull him down for a kiss and lock your legs around him to help him ride it out. Loving when he collapses on top of you and groans into your neck.

Dieter pants, struggling to catch his breath from the way his orgasm just knocked him sideways. Fuck, you feel so good. You are so good. He slides his tongue into your mouth, slowly kissing you as you both ride out your highs together.

You finally feel your body start to calm down. Both of you relax completely and there is a split second where you wonder what happens now. This is still your boss and you realize you’ve gotten caught up in his acting. “I should pee.” You whisper awkwardly.

“Go on baby.” Dieter says as he pulls out of you with a groan. Unable to stop himself from watching his cum well up at your entrance and he pushes it back inside of you. “Quick. Before it gets on your sheets.” He orders, shifting to lay down on the bed and he closes his eyes with a smile on his face.

You wrap your robe around you and dart out into the hallway to scamper into the bathroom. “Shit. What have you done?” You ask yourself frantically after you close the door. You’ve done the worst thing you could possibly do. You’ve slept with your boss and you loved it, setting yourself up for heartbreak when he wants to fuck someone else or just brings someone home. This didn’t mean anything to him, it was just sex or worse, his role as your ‘boyfriend’.

Dieter is asleep by the time you return, always knocked out after an orgasm, and he snores loudly when you quietly open the door and sneak back into your room.

****

The next morning, Dieter wakes up to an empty bed, making him frown, and he groans as he gets out of bed, ready to shower and go downstairs to see where you are.

You are helping your mom make breakfast when Dieter comes downstairs. Today is going to be busy with Thanksgiving prep so you don’t have time to entertain him today. “Morning.” You tell him as you mix up the waffle batter.

Dieter leans in to kiss your cheek but you are stiff, making Dieter frown as he shifts to sit down at the table, pouring himself a cup of coffee. He watches you work with your mom, your dad reading the newspaper and Dieter just stares at you, wondering why you aren’t being your usual self.

You feel so damn guilty you can barely look at him. It’s not his fault you were dumb and fell for his performance. You just need to remind yourself that Dieter is a fantastic actor and he’s managed to make this seem real. You just aren’t a good enough actress to pretend you aren’t affected.

Dieter thanks you when you place a hot waffle down on a plate in front of him and he reaches out to caress your hip, smiling up at you while your dad digs into his breakfast. “You’re welcome” comes your cool reply and Dieter frowns, wondering what he did wrong.

You see the frown on his face and it’s hard to keep from leaning in and kissing him but it’s for the best. You can’t separate things like he can. You know that, it’s going to be hard to go back to being just his assistant. You need to put that wall back up, so he doesn’t break your heart, but you’re pretty sure that’s already happening.

When you sit down to eat, Dieter reaches for your hand but you pull it back, making him frown even more and your mom seems to notice the tension between you. “Everything okay?” Your mom asks you, her eyes full of concern as they flick between you and Dieter.

“Everything’s fine, mom.” You cut into your waffle and look up to give her a small smile. “Just didn’t sleep well and it’s hard to eat one handed.” You explain, looking around the table. “So what’s the plan for today?” You ask, wanting to take the attention off of your disaster

"Well, your aunt and uncle are arriving later. She's gonna help us with the food." They aren't actually your aunt and uncle, they are your parents' best friends who you regard as such. Dieter is wondering what they are like so he can make a good impression.

“Oh good.” Your smile brightens up and you look forward to seeing your honorary aunt and uncle. “I haven’t seen them in awhile and I know it will be good to catch up.“

Dieter smiles, "I'm excited to meet them." Your dad hums and continues reading the paper. Once breakfast is over, Dieter helps your mom clean up, telling her about his next project he's filming in Croatia.

"You live such an exciting life. No wonder my little girl doesn't want to come home." She nudges him. Dieter smiles at her, "I will make sure she comes home more often."

You had run back upstairs to get dressed, snorting to yourself as you walk back into the kitchen. “You mean you’re going to get your own coffee or arrange your own schedule?” You pose it as a playful question but you pick up Dieter’s script changes every day and arrange for his entire life to happen smoothly, he doesn’t like you to take a Sunday off. So you can’t see him letting you come home more.

Dieter shakes his head, "I can manage. You deserve to see your family."

Your mom tuts, "and you'll be with her of course. Maybe one day you'll be here with your kids...married." She winks at you and Dieter chuckles, "maybe. If she'd put up with me."

“Okay.” You give a small laugh and roll your eyes before you point back and forth between the two of them. “How about you two not plan out the rest of our lives, okay?” You huff playfully. “Mom will have you picking out names if you aren’t careful.”

"Alex and River. Gender neutral names because I don't want that gender reveal shit. I'm not starting a fire for that." Dieter says like he has actually thought this out and he kinda, maybe, already did this morning.

The speed in which Dieter produces those names makes you freeze. Wondering if he’s always had those in mind for real or if he’s come up with them off the top of his head. “Those are lovely names.” You can see your mom melting as she thinks about babies with those names. “You would want to be surprised? Or just not tell anyone what the baby is?” You ask Dieter, curious about things you had never thought of with him.

Dieter bites his lip, “I want to be surprised.” He admits, “plus I want to keep any family I have as private as possible. I don’t want them to grow up like I did. Surrounded by Hollywood and feeling that pressure. I’d want them to just be a kid for as long as possible and know me as daddy, not Dieter Bravo, Oscar winning actor.” He admits.

You bite your lip, understanding why he would feel that way. He was a child actor, a legacy and it had to be difficult growing up like that. “The fact that you are an actor should just be daddy’s job.” You agree, nodding. “I hate the idea of parading kids around for extra publicity and every time I see the paps hounding your pregnant co-stars and friends I want to smack them.”

“Jesus. If you were pregnant and they came for you like that? I’d probably be in jail.” He admits, knowing he’s had a temper in the past but he could really lose his mind if you or a baby were put in danger. He can see it though, having a family with you. Coming to see your parents. It’s all too real and that terrifies him but he also finally feels like he has a home and he wants to hold onto that.

Your father looks up from his paper for the first time that morning. “Good.” He grunts in approval, nodding in agreement. “I expect you to protect her when that time comes.” He says simply, making your eyes widen at the stamp of approval that he’s just given Dieter. It wasn’t if, it was when that happened. You swallow, hating that it’s not real because your father only really liked Dave but you hadn’t really brought anyone else to meet them.

Dieter is so pleased at your father’s approval, beaming at you, and he sips his coffee to smother his grin. Fuck, this feels too real. He isn’t sure how he is going to walk away after this is done when you’re back in L.A. “Baby, can I talk to-” Dieter asks about an hour later but the doorbell rings and you just look at him before you rush off to get the door.

Your father leans in, looking over at Dieter again. “She is going to be frazzled today. Why don’t you come help me get out the extra tables and get them cleaned up. Her uncle and I do that and drink some beer while the women cook and gossip.”

“Sure.” Dieter nods, standing up to wash out his coffee cup and your aunt and uncle come into the kitchen to greet your dad.

“Guys…this is Dieter.” You introduce him and he flusters a little but puts on the charm as he greets your honorary aunt and uncle.

Your aunt appraises him suspiciously. “You have a very wild past.” She hums, narrowing her eyes as she watches him. “How did you manage to convince my sweet girl to date you? Completely not her type.”

“I have a wild past but that’s all behind me.” He promises, “she was in front of my eyes the entire time and one day, I finally realized that I’d fallen for her and for some miraculous reason, she wanted me too. The rest is history as she’s stuck with me now. She’s everything I never knew I wanted and needed.”

You feel your stomach sink, even as it twists happily. He’s such a fucking fantastic actor that you believe him. Right down to the soft expression on his face. You would swear that there is love in his eyes and it almost breaks your heart. “You can grill him later.” You promise her, shaking your head. “Right now we need to get into the kitchen.”

Dieter watches you go, his heart clenching at your hasty exit but he knows he doesn’t have control over you. With a sigh, he goes outside to help the guys set up the table from the shed and pretend like he knows something about football. Your dad seems to be okay with him and not against him so that works in his favor.

In the kitchen, you feel like you are being interrogated. "He doesn't look like Dave, doesn't look like your type." Your aunt is a wonderful person but you know that she had imagined you marrying Dave and having babies years ago. She hadn't been subtle in her questions about seeing him while you were home in years past and honestly, she was one of the reasons you had told your family you were dating Dieter.

"That's the point." You huff, rolling your eyes. "I didn't want a man like Dave. In looks or in attitude."

"And Dieter is your type? My darling, he's just gonna get bored of you and cheat on you with some floozie. What if you are married? Pregnant? And you find out he's been cheating on you?" She asks, concerned about your future. "Men like that...they always put themselves first.”

You bite your lip, your aunt vocalizing all of your fears but you hate to hear it. “I- Dieter isn’t like his public persona.” You insist. “He’s loving, he’s vulnerable. He just wants someone to love him for who he is and not what he can do for them.” You swallow and look down at the pie filling you are mixing up. “It’s not like he’s asked me to marry him, so don’t worry about that.”

“Yet.” Your mom smiles, “I see the way he looks at you. It’s only a matter of time. He loves you. He clearly wants you to be his so I think…maybe by New Year you’ll be engaged.” She guesses and your aunt wrinkles her nose, “I’d turn him down. He isn’t ready.”

You huff and roll your eyes at your aunt. “That would be cruel. You can be engaged for a long time. And it’s not like Dieter hasn’t been married before.”

“Yeah and look how that turned out. Clearly he isn’t capable of being faithful or in a marriage. He isn’t the one for you, sweetheart. Best dump him when you get home and move on. Maybe you could move back…see Dave more often.”

“I’m not seeing Dave ever again.” You promise, annoyed that it’s always Dave. That there will never be anyone as good as Dave. “Especially after he belittled and insulted me.”

Your mom shakes her head, “he was an asshole. I don’t want her to be with someone like that. Dieter defended her. He looks after her. I like him.” Your mom smiles as she works on the gravy. “Go clean up and tell the boys that dinner will be ready soon.” She orders.

“Okay.” You move over to the sink to wash your hands and then you walk out the kitchen. When you get outside, you find Dieter and your dad wrestling with a table and your uncle wiping another one down. “Dinner’s almost ready.” You call out, smiling when Dieter’s head pops up eagerly. He’s loved the homemade food since you’ve been home.

"Yes!" Dieter exclaims, excited at the prospect of homemade food and he helps your dad and uncle carry the table into the dining room that has been cleared out for the other guests that are soon to arrive soon. Your extended family and friends. Dieter is nervous to meet the rest of your nearest and dearest but he will do what he has been doing.

You grin, shaking your head as he rushes upstairs to change into a nicer outfit for the meal. “You go get ready too.” Your mom coos, waving you out of the kitchen when you try to go back in. The pies are in the oven now, baking while the meal will be eaten. “Okay.” You climb the stairs and knock on the bedroom door, not wanting to walk in if he’s still changing.

Dieter calls out for you to enter as he buttons the shirt, standing there in his boxers. “Food nearly done? I’m starving.” He groans, watching you as you shut the door behind you. “Baby. Everything okay?” He asks when you stare at him.

You want to drool, to rub your hands over his body and touch him like you had meant to last night. Instead you shake your head. “I can’t do this anymore.” You tell him quietly. “I- it was a mistake. Telling them that you’re my- that we’re- I’m sorry.” You look away, not wanting to see the relief on his face. “I need to tell them the truth before they insist you propose and set a wedding date.”

Dieter frowns, “what? Why would you do that? It’s going so well baby.”

You groan, “that. That’s why. That right there. You call me baby and it - it makes me feel…things.”

Dieter chuckles, “yeah. We are - wait, good things or bad things?” He frowns, confused and his stomach twists.

You shake your head. “It doesn’t matter, Dieter. This is all an act for you!” You hiss quietly. “None of it is real and I just- I can’t do this!” You grab your makeup bag and the sweater you are changing into and turn around to flee, confused as to why he isn’t immediately agreeing with you. He should be relieved at being told he could go back to doing whatever he wants

Dieter moves fast, blocking you from leaving the room, and he boxes you in with his arms, his shirt hanging down. "Are you fucking serious?" He hisses, "you do realize that I came into this to do you a favor to convince your parents that I am in love with you and oh, excuse me for fucking actually doing it and wanting to be with you even though this morning you acted like last night meant nothing to you."

“You came here because you didn’t want to be alone.” You remind him, tears building up in your eyes and you shudder out a breath. “Last night was amazing but I can’t turn it on and off like you can Dieter. I’m not an actor.”

Dieter shakes his head, "it's not - I am not acting anymore. I might be a good actor but even I'm not that good." He shakes his head, "please baby. You gotta believe me because I - shit. I think I've fallen in love with you." He confesses, his eyes soft as the realization hits him, "it's real. What I feel for you is real."

Swallowing harshly, you blink back the tears, unsure of if he’s just so deep into this that he’s convinced himself it’s real or if he does love you. “Dieter, I-“ you start, your mom calling up the stairs for you to hurry up and you close your mouth, scared to say something that you can’t talk through right now. “It’s real?”

“It’s real. It’s real.” He cups your cheeks, leaning in to kiss your forehead. “It’s real. I love you.” He kisses your cheek. “I love you.” He kisses your other cheek, “I don’t want to be without you.” He kisses your nose. “I love you.” He brushes his lips against yours, “it’s real.”

“It’s real.” You whisper quietly, almost to yourself. Reaching up, you cup his cheek. “I- we have a lot to talk about.” You murmur softly, “but I love you.”

Dieter grins, pressing his lips to yours. He presses you up against the door, his hands gripping your waist as he crowds you and he’s so fucking happy. He is in awe of you loving him. You’ve seen the worst of him. You’ve seen every part of him yet you still love him.

You take another moment to kiss him, even though your mother calls your name again. Pushing against his shoulders slightly. “Okay baby.” You murmur, kissing his lips once more. “We need to go back downstairs for Thanksgiving.”

Dieter pulls back, knowing you need to get downstairs. He kisses your cheek, “let’s go. I am staaaaaarvinggggg.” He draws out the word as a whine and he quickly dresses in the pants you bought for today to make a good impression on the rest of your family.

You chuckle and shake your head, deciding that you will just change your shirt here before you freshen up your hair and makeup. “We can’t have you staaaaarvingggg.” You tease with a grin.

Dieter pouts at you for making fun of him before he winks, watching you take your shirt off. He stills for a moment, just observing how beautiful you and when you fluster, he waggles his eyebrows. "Later I want dessert." He smirks, buttoning up his shirt.

“You had dessert last night.” It’s your turn to pout and you can’t help yourself, not when you know that he’s yours. You step over to him and cup his cock. “I want to see how you react to your assistant sucking your cock.” You purr, winking at him as you squeeze him playfully.

“Jesus.” Dieter hisses, cock twitching under your touch and he closes his eyes while he pushes your hand away so he can calm down before he makes his way downstairs to see your family.

It’s probably a little evil, giggling to yourself as you finish getting ready. Making sure you look good before you walk over to him again where he is muttering under his breath. “Ready to go eat, baby?”

Dieter nods, buckling his belt, and he takes your hand to kiss the back of it. "Let's go." He murmurs, keeping hold of your hand as he guides you downstairs to find your family gathered in the living room, crowded in and chattering away as they all catch up.

Walking downstairs with Dieter is something thrilling right now. Your fingers woven with his and your heart pounding in your chest. It’s real. Instead of this being some scene where he’s acting like your boyfriend, Dieter is actually your boyfriend. Your cunt clenches when you imagine taking him back to bed tonight and being able to fulfill some fantasies of your own.

Dieter is beaming when he is introduced to your family members. His arm wrapped around your waist as he greets your family members, smiling and he kisses your cheek every now and then. When everyone is settled down at the table, Dieter is sitting next to you and opposite your younger cousin who is eyeing him suspiciously. “So how long have you two been together?” She asks.

You squeeze Dieter’s hand and before you let go and pick up your wine glass. “Let’s see, you asked me out when you were working on ‘Blown Away’ right? So that was two and a half years ago now. No- three years. I’m thinking about the reshoots.”

Your cousin frowns, “wait. Three years ago? That - Dieter was seen with a model. Kissing her outside of the Ivy in L.A. So he cheated on you?” She narrows her eyes and everyone looks at you and Dieter with curiosity.

Shit. You had forgotten about that. You shift in your seat and plaster an uncaring look on your face, as if it’s no big deal. “We weren’t….exclusive then.” You tell her with a shrug. “We were free to do whatever. It’s okay, he didn’t- there was no- he’s not-“

Dieter wraps his arm around you. “I made mistakes at the beginning of our relationship but she forgave me and we became exclusive. She is a saint to put up with my shit.” He responds coolly, knowing this was a possibility.

“Really?” Your cousin smirks and she pulls out her phone, obviously waiting for this moment to expose something. Your stomach clenches when you see a picture of Dieter kissing someone else. It was a pap photo that looks like it was probably six months ago. They hadn’t been posted in any gossip rags so you hadn’t even thought about them. “So…..you became exclusive six months ago? Or you just cheat and pray she doesn’t find out?”

Dieter curses in his mind since he forgot about that. Usually he doesn’t give a shit if the paps get him. He swallows harshly, “I’m- that, uh- it’s not.” He stammers, making you shake your head.

“Because we aren’t really dating.” You announce quietly, humiliated and wondering why you agreed to this in the first place. “When I told you I was dating Dieter it was to get everyone off my back. I’m not moving back home and I’m not going to get back together with Dave. He broke up with me in college because he wanted to sleep with other people. Told me he could see me satisfying him for the rest of our lives.” You hadn’t told anyone the real reason for the breakup, until now. “So I just said I was dating Dieter and he’s been wonderful, pretending to be my boyfriend. Until…” you shrug slightly, unsure if it’s worth saying that you’ve fallen in love for real.

“Baby…” Dieter is shocked at your confession and he shakes his head. “No. I don’t - it’s not true.” He stands up. “She’s lying. She doesn’t - she’s trying to cover up for me because honestly? I fucked up. I didn’t realize what an amazing woman I had right in front of me for the longest time and I realize that mistake now. She’s…she’s incredible and I love her. I’m in love with her and I want -” He shifts, pulling his chair out so he can kneel down beside yours. “Baby…” He says your name, “I love you. I’m sorry it’s taken me so damn long to get my shit together but I know you and you know me…all of me. Even the ugly parts and I was so scared of getting hurt again after my ex wife and I don’t want that to happen to us. I do, however, know that you are worth the risk. It’s real. We are real. Will you marry me?” He asks, being serious as he takes your hand.

Your chin trembles as you look into his eyes. It’s real. Those words you had affirmed to each other just a little while before in your bedroom. Your other hand, the one not clinging to Dieter’s reaches out and you caress his face. “You believe this?” Your cousin snorts, but you ignore her.

“You’ve been hurt a lot.” You tell him softly. “Used and yes, you’ve fucked up. But you are so much better than you realize. Than you want to believe. You deserve so much more.” You look down at your hands and then back up into his hopeful, pleading eyes. “Yes.” You whisper. “It’s real and I will marry you.”

Dieter grins, shifting to stand up and he leans in to kiss you, his tongue immediately sliding into your mouth as he grips your hips. He is so happy, ridiculously happy, and he smiles against your mouth after your family starts to clap, all of them congratulating you except for your cousin. “I love you.” Dieter murmurs, pulling back to look at you.

“I love you too.” You promise, shooting him the happiest smile. You know that there will be plenty of questions and confusion. You will have to talk to Dieter and decide what you want your official story to be. But right now, you just want to celebrate Thanksgiving with your family and your boyfriend or fiancé - for real this time.

Dieter grins as he sits down beside you, your parents are smiling because you look happy despite your dad wanting to ask Dieter about those photos but right now, everyone celebrates your engagement as they dig into the dinner. After dinner and when everyone is in a turkey coma, Dieter takes your hand to guide you to your room, wanting to talk about everything but when he gets you alone, all he wants to do is press his lips to yours.

You grin into his kiss and push him back slightly after teasing him with a slight brush of your tongue over his lips. “Are you sure this is what you want?” You ask him quietly. “I don’t want you to regret this.”

Shaking his head, Dieter looks at you. “No. No. I won’t regret it. I promise you. I’ve done a lot of things I regret. I’ve done things that I never should’ve done. Things that will haunt me but being married to you? I couldn’t regret that. You know every part of me. The good and the bad. You are still standing here. I love you. I want you. I want you to be my wife.”

“Okay.” You know he can be impulsive but he seems to be serious right now. “Maybe we sit down with your people when we get back to L.A. to figure out how best to do this and have your lawyers draft a prenup.”

Dieter nods, knowing there’s things that need to be addressed but right now, he’s so happy. “We can do that.” His hands slide down to your ass, squeezing as he smirks. “I wouldn’t mind starting our honeymoon early.” He teases, leaning in to kiss your neck.

Dieter has always been horny, you know that, but there is something different about this. You don’t feel like it’s just the sex that he wants. “Yeah?” You wrap your arms around the back of his neck. “You want to maybe go somewhere for Christmas? Just me and you? Maybe a little cabin somewhere? I’ll pay for it.”

Dieter tuts, “you aren’t paying for shit. I have more money than sense.” You raise your eyebrows and he chuckles, “drugs killed a lot of brain cells baby.” He jokes and squeezes your ass again.“I want to just spend time together. Me and you. No bullshit. Just figuring out our future.” Dieter says and you smile, unable to believe that having Dieter pretend to be your boyfriend has turned into him actually becoming your fiancé.

“Our future. I like that.” You hum and Dieter pecks your lips.

“Me too. Mrs. Bravo.” He winks and you giggle, making his heart thump. “Now…where is the whipped cream? I want my dessert.” He waggles his eyebrows and you gasp playfully. It’s a Thanksgiving to remember. A fake relationship turned real and unbeknownst to you, it’s the beginning of many years with Dieter by your side. One of many Thanksgivings to come.

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