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georgiapeach30513 · 9 months

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I’m Not Supposed to Play with Boys

Summary: Ransom always gets what he wants. Even if he has to wait.

Pairings: Ransom Drysdale X Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, (step) dad’s best friend, smut, PIV sex, unprotected sex, age gap, dirty talk, D/s dynamics, degradation, teasing, edging, female masturbation/humping, fingering, finger in mouth, humiliation, body writing, oral sex (M receiving), daddy kink, voyeurism, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 3.6K

Ransom Drysdale Masterlist

Your dad looks at the rear view mirror. Watching your face as the car looms ever closer to the Thrombey estate. You try to remain neutral in your thoughts as more and more of the animal statues come into view. Counting each one because the closer they were, the closer you got to the mansion. And you hope that the person you had been longing to see was there.

Your dad sighs, and you look at the reflection of his cobalt eyes, “Ransom is going to be here today, and I expect you to be on your best behavior.”

“You’re not my real dad, and I’m not a child.”

“You are visiting from college, and this is my friend’s family home,” his voice gets a bit more of an edge to it, and you roll your eyes. He was so predictable. Expected perfection from you. Because you reflected on him.

“Honey, just listen to your dad,” your mom yawns, pushing her seat back, and closing her eyes. There wasn’t even that much further to go, and she was already sleepy from who knows what. Your step-father rolls his eyes as the creepy estate comes into view, but that pretty little Beemer was nowhere insight.

“Do you think Linda would mind me taking a nap?” Your mom pets on his arm, and you feel like getting sick. She was more of a friend than a mother. She had you when she couldn’t even legally drive. It was like the two of you had grown up together. And sometimes you wondered if she was still trying to sew her wild oats.

He slowly removes his foot from the accelerator, throwing the car into park, “I’m going to see if they need any help in the kitchen,” you jump out before he could say anything. He was going to wait outside with the family, while your mother took her ‘nap’. You were going to wait where you could hopefully see that Beemer drive up. They didn’t need help in the kitchen. Everything was already outside. But you did exactly what Ransom had asked you to. And now you wait.

——

Ransom spots his best friend’s car, and gets a big grin on his face. He was told that you were home from Harvard. He doesn’t waste time saying his hellos, he needs a snack. From the kitchen. Into the house he walks, and straight into the kitchen. He must have been quieter than he had thought. You hadn’t noticed him.

Your back is to him, and he notices slow little movements forward. Right at the table. A soft little whimper is music to his ears. He opens up a cabinet for a packet of cookies, and you push off the table, “What cha doing?” He looks all the way down your body before meeting your stare with an arrogant grin.

“N-n-nothing,” you answer quickly. Smoothing down your dress as you look at anything that wasn’t him. You have never been more embarrassed in your life.

“Looked like you were humping the edge of the table. Where you fucking my grandpa’s table?” You shake your head no, starting to retreat out of the kitchen. “Wait. I’m not finished talking to you. If I happen to lift that little skirt of yours am I going to see that pretty pussy wet?”

“Um…no,” why was him embarrassing you like that making you more heated? Why was there a fresh gush of your juices to your core at the sound of his voice?

“Be a good girl, and lift up your skirt. Come on, I wanna see. Just wanna know if you’re still a desperate little slut for me,” slowly you lift up your skirt, and indeed the cotton gusset of your panties are darkened with your slick. “You were saying?” He chuckles, looking back up at you.

“I’m sorry, Ransom. I…”

“Oh, sweet little princess, what made you so weak in the knees? What’s got you all needy and grinding on that old table?”

Your eyes drift down to the floor, and your cheeks heat up in flames. He was going to make you say it, and you couldn’t. You mustn’t. “You know who.”

“Yeah, but that crush was a couple of years ago. You can’t still have a thing for little ole me, right?”

“I — I had sex like you asked. I’ve got experience now,” your voice is desperate when you try to tell Ransom that you followed his rules for you when you graduated. You followed his instructions perfectly. Listened to every word. “I…”

“And you’re still a needy fucking thing. What is that you want? You want to suck my fat cock?”

“Yes! Please!” Ransom’s mouth turns up into a devilish smirk. Lifting his hand up, he curls his finger, beckoning you to him.

You get almost to him, but he backs away, “No, no. Show me what you were doing just a minute ago. But hold your skirt up. I wanna watch. Show me how you get off when you think of me,” you gulp deeply as you walk back to the edge of the table. Lifting up your skirt when you settle yourself on the mahogany. Your lips spread over the wood, and it touches right on your clit, and you start grinding on it.

“There ya go. I bet that feels good on your desperate little cunt, hmm? You thinking of my cock splitting you open?”

“Yeah,” whining as you grind down even harder.

“Fucking you so hard that your head is pounding on headboard.”

“Yeah. Yes!”

“Have you screaming out ‘Fuck me harder, daddy,” your hips race your forward. Getting so close that you're panting out his name. Getting just right to edge, when Ransom places his hands on your shoulders and pushes you off the table, “I didn’t say you could come, you greedy little slut. Now let’s see how wet you are,” he shoves his fingers into your panties, and you moan when he gathers up your slick.

Holding out his hand, he stretches his fingers out, letting you see just how sticky and wet the mess in your panties is. Smiling at his fingers before he presses them past your lips, “Be a good girl, and clean me off,” closing your mouth around his fingers, you suck yourself off him. Circling your tongue around his thick digits. Almost creaming your panties when you hear him moan.

“Now, let's go say hey to your dad. I’m sure a good handshake covered in your juices is just what he needs. Stay wet and messy,” he walks out, leaving you alone and uncomfortable with how wet you are. Nothing left to do but follow him outside.

——

Ransom smirks at you from across the lawn. He has been having a steady conversation with your dad, but his eyes are always on you. He knows how uncomfortably soaked you are, and he finds it hilarious. It is a game to him to lick his lips, and readjust himself. Waiting until you were swishing your thighs together when you see his thick girthy cock in his palm. It was unfair.

Grunting, you stomp back inside. Needing to get something to drink. Who knew, maybe even taking a cold shower. Anything had to be better than what Ransom was doing to you. And the worst part was he knew! He knew that he was driving you crazy.

“Did I make you mad, Princess?”

“You’re making me crazy! I’m soaked, and I’m horny, and you knew. You knew what you were doing when…”

“You don’t like me teasing you?” Crossing your arms over your chest, you shake your head no. Ransom looks you up and down as he steadily walks closer to you. Getting right in front of you when he leans to your ear. Sniffing up the side of your neck. His breath on you went straight to your core as more slick floods your underwear, “Get on your knees.”

“What?” What was his game? What did he want from you?

“Get on your knees, and suck my cock, Princess. It’s hard and waiting on your filthy little mouth. Get on your knees now,” turning around, you can see the party going on outside. He wasn’t serious. The window was right there. Your dad was right there. With a view straight inside to you and Ransom.

“You want my cock? Well, here it is,” you look down between the two of you and his pretty cock is the only thing separating you. Beads of precum at the tip making it look all glistening and pretty, and you crave to taste it.

His thumb rubs over his slit, smearing his leaking juices over his thumb, and he paints the liquid on your lips, “Suck. My. Cock,” slowly you sink to your knees, kissing up his protruding vein, “As much as I would like for you to take your time, we do have an audience out there. You wouldn’t want daddy to see me fucking your pretty little face, would you?”

“Uh-uh,” you whine as he pushes his length into your mouth. You hollow out your cheeks, and grip the back of his thighs. Rolling your eyes up to look at him. His hand pets over your neck a moment before he starts thrusting into you. You let him take control. Allowing him to use your mouth as his personal fuck toy.

He holds tightly to your head as he fucks into you. His eyes moving from your pretty face, stuffed with him, and then out to the guests outside, “Have you seen my daughter?” Your dad yells. You try to scurry away, but Ransom holds you tighter. His pelvis propelling into you more.

“No. I think she had an upset stomach. Maybe she’s been stuffing her mouth full,” Ransom snorts. Casually talking to your dad while he drives into you. He glances back down to you. Your weight had settled on one of his feet, and while he was fucking your face, you were grinding on his foot like a bitch in heat.

“You think daddy can hear you gagging? You think he knows that you're drooling for my cock?” You whimper, holding onto him tighter. Undulating your hips, and soaking his foot with your arousal. You are dripping wet. Needy and ready to come. Sputtering around his member, your drool leaks down your neck. “You filthy little slut couldn’t wait for me to fuck one of her holes, could she? You gonna be my little slut? You gonna call me daddy instead?”

“Mhmm,” he pulls himself out of your mouth, and you gasp for air. Your lungs sting as oxygen rushes to fill them up. His cock slaps across your face, and you don't understand.

“Say it. Call me daddy. Tell me how bad you want my cock. Even though I feel that sloppy cunt throbbing on my foot. I need to hear you say it.”

“Daddy, I want you to fuck my face. Need you to come in my throat?” Grabbing your head, he crams himself back into your mouth. Stabbing into you so fast. So deep he was making your throat bulge out. And your body hunger for more air.

“Daddy’s gonna give it to you. Almost there. Gotta hurry. Can’t let anyone see you being my pretty little slut. Taking this big fat cock like a good girl. Uh! Uh! Oh!” His head tilts back, and his load shoots into the back of your throat. You moan at the salty musk that is Ransom. Your hips fuck down on him harder. Getting right there…

“I still didn’t tell you to come,” he meanly states, pushing you off him.

“Ransom! That’s not fair! I want to come, too.”

“What did you call me?”

“Daddy!”

“Oh, sweetheart,” his voice is so patronizing as he lifts your skirt, “Spread your legs. Let daddy see what a pitiful little pussy this is,” you do as you're told, and he moves your panties aside. Staring at your pulsing cunt with a smile. “Pitiful,” he lets a drip of his spit drop onto your pussy, and you moan at the cool sensation.

“What’s going on?” Your dad’s shadow falls into the kitchen, and over Ransom’s back, and you slap your hands over your skirt, covering yourself up.

“Oh, she fell,” Ransom says quickly. Nodding to your dad as Ransom offers his hand down to him. “I think maybe she should lay down somewhere. She was acting a bit delirious.”

Your dad looks between the two of you, clearly not believing a word that either of you had said, “You’ll miss the fireworks.”

“I’ve seen fireworks before. Ransom is right, dad, I just don’t feel right. Must be all the excitement today.”

“Go upstairs, third door on the left. There’s a window that you’ll be able to see all the fireworks,” you give him a nod as you walk up the stairs slowly. “Is everything okay?” Ransom asks with a smirk. He caught him spitting into your cunt. He knows his friend saw you all spread out for him.

“She fell, huh?” He asks. His eyes darkening as he walks closer. Looking down at the floor to see a wet spot. You were messy.

“Yep,” Ransom answers, popping his p. He holds his hands out shrugging, “I don’t know what to tell you. Your daughter is clumsy. She tends to make a mess, too. Did you know she was a messy little thing?”

“She’s not my real daughter,” he had to add that little bit of information. Had to let Ransom know when he was looking at you, it was okay.

“Yeah, but you did really marry her mom. Maybe you should go outside, daddy-o. Isn’t your wife finally awake?” He shakes his head no, starting to walk back out. Flinging his head towards the door. Wanting Ransom to follow. He had no such plans. He was going to fuck you during these fireworks. “Are you that lonely that you need me with you?”

“Are you?” His eyebrow cocks up, “Do you need me with you?”

“Touché. Listen, I don’t want to be crass, but…”

“She fell, huh? Is she going to fall again?”

“Yep. Fall right on my dick.”

——

“You ready to come, Princess? I got the perfect seat for you to enjoy your fireworks. Look at this seat daddy prepared for you,” Ransom fists his cock a few times as you walk closer to him. “There ya go. You gonna show daddy what you learned in school? I’m sure Harvard is all boring, but what did those boys teach you in your dorm?”

“I want you to fuck me, though,” tonight was all about you doing all the work. You wanted nothing more than for Ransom to take advantage of you. Didn’t care if everyone could hear you screaming. You wanted him.

“Oh, Princess, this first time I want you to show daddy what those silly college boys taught you. Sit on my lap. Let daddy stretch you out,” taking a deep breath, you walk over to Ransom. Straddling his legs, you grab the base of his cock, and run it through your slit.

Looking into Ransom’s eyes, you slowly sink down over him, biting at your lip. None of the boys from school felt like him. None of them looked like him. And when you sink balls deep on him, you know that none of them have ever been that deep. Couldn’t even wish to reach the depths that Ransom did, “Daddy!”

“I know, Princess. Daddy has such a big cock. You just sit like that until your pussy doesn’t hurt anymore. I got her all stretched out, huh?” You nod your head as you bite your lip. Overwhelmed because you finally feel Ransom. Finally have him inside of you. Something you have dreamed about for years. “You feel me in your belly, honey?”

“Yeah. But it feels good.”

“Yeah it does. You gonna let me cum in this tight little pussy? You are so pretty when you’re a mess,” you slowly start to grind over Ransom. Getting a better feel of him before you start to bounce on top of him. Letting your pussy suck him right back in as deep as you could take him. “Your titties do look pretty bouncing in my face.”

Fireworks boom outside the window, but you only see Ransom. His mouth chases your tits, just so he can give your buds a nibble. “Daddy!”

“I know, Princess. Daddy wouldn’t let you come earlier today, because it makes you that much more needy. It hasn’t been that long, and I feel your pussy fluttering around me. My god, I don’t even think I can last.”

BOOM, “Daddy!”

“Tell me what you need, Princess. Let daddy give it to you.”

BOOM! POP! “Daddy!”

“You keep getting louder. They can’t hear you. Tell daddy what you want.”

“Daddy! I wanna come! Daddy, let me come!”

“Your daddy will make sure you come,” Andy steps up behind you, those thick arms wrapping around your stomach. One hand spreads your lips further apart, while the other starts making tight circles over your clit. “Does my sweet girl wanna come?”

“Yes! Daddy, I wanna come!”

“Woah, woah. I’m daddy, and this is my princess,” Ransom pouts up at his best friend. He knew letting Andy watch was a bad idea. Sick bastard.

“Daddy is gonna help you come,” Andy moans, while you continue to ride Ransom, Andy has got you feeling like you're flying. Overstimulated, and then he starts to kiss along your neck, while Ransom starts sucking on your tit. His other hand rolls your nipples between his fingers. Everything felt good. Every part of you feels so fucking good. Your skin is buzzing with euphoria. “Go on, Princess. Come. Daddy’s gonna let you come.”

“Daddy!” You scream as your leg starts trembling. “Daddy! Daddy I’m coming! I’m coming!”

“Fuck, Andy, she’s got me in a vice grip. Squeezing me so fucking hard. There, baby. Keep riding daddy, yeah! Fuck yeah!” You moan as Ransom spurts creamy ribbons of his thick cum deep into your core. Your walls pulse around him, milking every bit of his spend out on him. “Fuck me!”

“I believe she just did. Princess, you okay?” You get a dopey smile on your face, whispering yes. “That was incredible. How long have you two been fucking?”

“Just this once, Andy. Now, I let you play with your daughter a bit, but why don’t you let me clean her up. You’re married. Don’t need to be fucking your daughter anyways.”

“Quit calling her my daughter! She’s not my real daughter,” your eyes start to slowly close as you let your high wash over you. You had him. He was still in you. He had filled you up, and it feels so fucking good.

“You’re just saying that because you want to fuck her. You,” both men stop when you get up, and lay on the bed on your back. “Princess, why don’t you spread your legs,” your eyes fully close, and you spread your legs. Putting your gaping cunt on display for both men.

They stare at your pretty and stretched out channel, and when Ransom's cum starts to leak out, they both gasp. “My god if that isn’t the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“She’s on birth control. Her mom was scared she was sleeping around too much in college. Let me guess, that was your doing?”

“Yeah, I don’t do virgins. They get attached too easily. Plus, I had her riding daddy’s cock like her life depended on it. Could you see how deep she took me from your angle?”

“Yes,” Andy rolls his eyes. “Saw you destroying her pussy.”

“Just wait until I fuck her. Mmm, my cock is getting hard again. If you don’t want to see me fuck your daughter in her sleep, I suggest you leave now. Because I’m going to fuck that slut right into the mattress. It’s too soon to share her. You were supposed to just watch.”

Andy Barber never just watches. He would fuck you too. He’d make Ransom watch as he pounds into you. Instead of going to you, Ransom grabs up a pen, “What are you doing?”

“Reminding her,” he says, scribbling ‘obedient’ on one inner thigh. ‘Good girl’ written on the other. “Princess, who owns your pussy?”

“You do, daddy. That’s daddy’s pussy,” Ransom looks back at his friend with a smile. “It’s all daddy’s. Whenever daddy wants it.”

“Daddy’s cumdump?”

“Uh huh,” you smile as he writes cumdump on your belly.

“Daddy's pretty little cum princess.”

“Yep,” Andy stomps out of the room, making sure to slam the door. And you pout up at Ransom.

“He’s just jealous that I’m going to pump you so full of cum, you won’t know what to do with yourself. My pretty little princess cumslut.”

“Just daddy’s.”

“Unless daddy wants to share?”

“Unless daddy wants to share,” oh Ransom is going to have too much fun with you. His personal little sex toy. One he was going to have a lot of fun playing with. And showing off. His little fuckdoll that wanted him to do whatever he wanted. And he would. “Daddy, I’m sleepy.”

“You want daddy to hold you while you take a nap?” Nodding your head, you make grabby hands up at Ransom, and he crawls into the bed beside you. “Okay, get some sleep, Princess. You gotta be rested, so I can fuck you, right?”

“Right. Shh.”

“I know. Sleep. Dream. And I’ll be right here.”

Masterlist

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#i'm not supposed to play with boys #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x fem!reader #ransom drysdale x y/n #ransom drysdale x you #DBF!Ransom drysdale #dbf!ransom #dbf!ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale smut #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale fics #ransom drysdale fic #chris evans #chris evans character

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its-rach-writes · 14 days

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Cinnamon and Art Galleries - Spencer Reid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: Your friend, Emily brings a cute stranger to your art exhibition.

Warnings: fluff, fluff, more fluff, probably ooc Spencer

A/N: I hope you guys enjoy this! This was my first time writing for Spencer so he's probably out of character but please let me know what you think! I love you all! xxx

You smiled as you drew the cat in the hot chocolate foam and handed it to the little girl on the other side of the counter with her mom. It melted your heart when her face lit up and she waved at you as her mom steered her out of the café. It was slow in your café today but you didn’t mind, you used the time to set up for the beginner art class you were going to be teaching on Saturday.

“Hey girl,” you glanced up when the bell rang and your friend Emily walked in.

You smiled when you saw her and gave her a wave. She was the first friend you had made when you moved to DC.

“Hey,” you smiled, “having the usual?”

“Please,” she grinned.

You got to work, making her one black coffee, the other was a milky coffee with a shot of cinnamon syrup. You knew that Emily drank the black coffee so you couldn’t help but wonder who the overly sweet coffee was for. You carefully selected the cinnamon roll with the most frosting and slid it into a bag, being careful to not let it stick to the paper bag.

“I believe congratulations are in order,” Emily started and you scoffed with a laugh.

As soon as you found out your art was going to be featured in an exhibition, Emily was the first person you told, “the team are coming to see it.”

You raised an eyebrow, secretly you were grateful, “FBI Agents don’t have anything better to do?”

She laughed, “not tonight, I even managed to talk the good Dr into coming.”

“The elusive Spencer Reid?” you rested your hip against the counter as you handed her the coffees, “how did you manage that?” from what Emily had told you, it didn’t seem like Spencer Reid liked social situations.

“I’ve got killer interrogation skills,” she smirked, “he’s cute too.”

You internally groaned, yours and Emily’s definition of ‘cute’ were very different, for all you knew Spencer Reid was an aging Professor, “as long as you don’t try and set us up, like you tried with me and Morgan.”

“No promises,” she laughed as she backed out of the café, “I’ll see you tonight.”

Later that night, you were sipping champagne as people perused your exhibition, your paintings were both inspired by Pre-Raphaelite art and the King Arthur legends. You noticed a man was standing at your painting of the Knights of the Round Table, so you walked over and decided to strike up a conversation.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” his lips twitched into a small smile as he looked down at you with gorgeous deep brown eyes, “you’re the artist right?” when you nodded, he looked back at the painting, “you’re really good.”

“Thanks, I love Pre-Raphaelite art.”

“Did you know that the Pre-Raphaelites were a secret society of young artists, founded in London in 1848? They were opposed to the Royal Academy’s promotion of the ideal as exemplified in the work of Raphael,” he blurted this out like he’d memorised it from a textbook and you worked hard to conceal a laugh.

“I did know that,” you giggled.

“Right of course,” he flushed, “of course you knew that.”

Something struck a memory, something that Emily had told you, “wait, are you Spencer Reid?” he looked at you with slightly wary eyes before nodding and you smiled, “I’m Y/N, Emily has told me so much about you.”

“It’s all lies,” he joked and glanced over his shoulder, “she’s making the most of the bar right now.”

You laughed as you looked over too and she waved, lifting up a glass in a motion of cheers. When she had said Spencer was cute, it was an understatement, he was young and gorgeous.

“Are you interested in art?” you asked as you sipped your champagne.

Spencer nodded, “I like looking at it, I’m afraid I’m not very artistic.”

“And here, we thought you were perfect,” you heard a chuckle from over your shoulder and you turned to see Derek Morgan and the rest of the BAU, Morgan pulled you into a hug, “congratulations sweetheart.”

“Thanks,” you smiled as you pulled away and looked at the others, “thank you for coming.”

It was a great night and you were grateful for everyone that came but soon, you were starting to get overwhelmed so you went out onto the balcony for a cigarette. Though it seemed as though someone else had beaten you to it. He ran a hand through his hair and glanced over his shoulder and smiled at you.

“Hey, you want some company?”

“Sure,” he smiled.

There was comfortable silence for a while as both of you looked over at the lights of DC, your cigarette smoke curling in the air. Soon enough, Spencer spoke up.

“So what do you do? Is art your full time thing?”

“I own the café by the library, but I’m integrating art into the café, I’m teaching a beginner class at the weekend from there.”

“No way! Seriously?” he smiled, looking animated, “your coffee is so good and your cinnamon rolls? Amazing.”

You laughed, “Emily gets the cinnamon roll with the most frosting for you?”

“Yeah,” he flushed, he opened his mouth to say something else when he was interrupted by Aaron Hotchner.

“Reid, we just got called in,” he glanced at you, an apologetic look, “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“No, it’s okay,” you smiled when Spencer pushed himself off the railing, “it was really nice to meet you Spencer.”

He flushed and offered you a shy smile, “it was nice to meet you too, I’ll see you soon?”

You nodded and Emily pulled you into a tight hug, whispering in your ear, “I’ll make sure he sees you soon,” you laughed, shaking your head as she pulled away.

On Saturday, you were setting up for the art class when you heard the tinkle of the bell and you glanced up. None other than Spencer Reid was standing in the open doorway, the sun like a halo around his head.

“Thought you might need a hand.”

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #dr reid #reid #spencer #criminal minds #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n

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highvern · 26 days

Text

Waited

Pairing: Min Yoongi x fem!reader

Genre: smut (18+)

warnings: mentions of mental health/poor self image, drug use (weed), alcohol consumption, cheating, violence (nothing explicit), oral, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, degrading, spanking, marking, jealous Yoongi, rip Namjoon, bi Taehyung

Length: ~4.2k

Note: this originally was gonna be a short FWB smut but alas nothing turns out like i plan hahahahahahahahah shoot me thank you @the-boy-meets-evil and @onlyhuis for subjecting yourselves to this mess.

Summary: Best friends since childhood means you can tell each other anything. Right?

m.list + support my work

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked!

Yoongi enters your world three days before you turn six years old. His parents buy the house across the cul de sac that's sat empty for months and show up with a moving truck and their two sons. While they're unpacking your mom walks over to welcome them to the neighborhood and you hide behind her leg to stare at the boy with a choppy bowl cut who stares right back from behind his own mom’s leg.

You dub Yoongi your best friend in fourth grade. It’s a silent declaration but one he quickly falls in line with. He’d always been the smallest in class, easy cannon fodder for bullies that want to push around the quiet kid. One time too many people called him stupid under their breath and you snapped. After school detention for three weeks and a handwritten apology addressed to the boy with a broken nose is the price you pay but no one messes with him again after that.

The first time you realize your best friend is handsome is senior year of high school. An hour before prom your date decided he wanted to go with someone else and Yoongi, who had zero interest in “cliche, organized humiliation rituals” trugged across the pavement to your house in a borrowed tux too big in the shoulders.

He posed for pictures while both your parents cooed, hands respectable at your waist as you both smiled through the awkwardness. His brother drops you both off and slips a contraband flask full of shitty alcohol in Yoongi’s hand before taking off.

You pretended not to notice when Jisung and Yoongi both simultaneously disappeared, only to reappear twenty minutes later; Yoongi sporting bruised knuckles and the traces of what would become a black eye come the next morning along with a split lip. Instead, you take another sip of what must be gasoline and pull him to the dance floor. During the singular slow dance he allotted, with your head against his shoulder and the reak of his older brother’s after shave burning your nose, you realized you wouldn’t mind if he kissed you.

The rest of the night is spent emptying your guts in Yoongi’s ensuite because your parents were so confident nothing would happen between the two of you that sleepovers at Yoongi’s were too common.

The first time you kiss Yoongi is also the night you lose your virginity. Your sophomore year boyfriend broke up with you two days before finals. Yoongi couldn’t stand Taehyung or the way you apparently believed he shit rainbows so you expected him to find nothing but joy in the news.

But when you showed up outside his apartment, elephant tears streaking down your face as you gasped around an explanation, Yoongi said nothing. He simply walked into the kitchen, pulled out the bottle of liquor he saved for special occasions, and passed it to you along with a shot glass.

He let your drunken sobs stain the collar of his shirt until you laughed yourself hysterical at the irony of it all. How Taehyung claimed he wasn’t ready for anything serious when he pursued you first, how he broke up with you after you told him you weren’t ready for anything physical.

“Fuck him,” Yoongi grumbled, burrowed between the pillows of his bed.

Your head lulled onto his shoulder with a snort, “I think that was part of the problem.”

Then you kissed him and Yoongi kissed you back. And when you planted yourself in his lap and touched him, he took the chance to touch you too. At some point your clothes were gone, allowing your best friend to take as much liberty as he liked. But even though the details are fuzzy you know he was gentle and devout. Yoongi took all the time in the world, pushing and pushing until you almost broke and melted to the floor.

And after all was said and done you cried while Yoongi held you until your eyes swelled shut.

The next day Taehyung called and asked to work things out. Like a naive fool you agreed and then two years passed in a blink before you caught him fucking the doe eyed underclassmen from his fraternity the night of graduation.

You wanted Yoongi but the last time you ran crying to him about Taehyung sat in the back of your mind. Since that day he’d taken a step back, missing your calls or dodging plans. Still your best friend but not present like before. Half your own fault because he warned you getting back with Taehyung was a bad idea but rather than listen, you told him to fuck off and mind his business. So he did and managed to get a girlfriend in the process.

But the universe has a weird way of shoving people together. Sipping from a bottle on the steps to the should-be-condemned house you rented with six other girls, eyes glassy and unfocused, you didn’t realize someone was calling your name until he sat down beside you.

“I heard,” Yoongi says, snagging your drink and downing his own mouthful before going back for seconds.

Your lips bruise under your teeth, the pain barely managing to consume your focus away from the new wave of tears threatening to crop up. “That I’m an idiot?”

Cold hands find the blanket wrapped around your shoulders, pulling it back up in the places it's dropped before curling around your frame and wrangling you into the boney side of his.

“That Taehyung is still an asshole.”

It's too familiar. Your hands tangled in the fabric of his shirt, his neck wet with your cries. Yoongi barely managed to get you upstairs and in bed without fuss, a plethora of pathetic cries none of your roommates are around to hear blurring your vision.

“Where’s Tiffany?” You ask, fumbling into the mattress. You’ll ask him anything to get your mind of the hurt.

Yoongi fought to tuck you in, shoving you back into the pillows everytime you tried to get up and attempted to convince him to go to the bars where your classmates are currently celebrating. Where Taehyung is probably strung out across whoever will give him the time of day.

He lets you pull him into a hug when a new wave of sadness erupts. It’s the first time you get a good look at him in months despite the blur in your vision. Silver in the streetlights flooding through the slits of the blinds, the dark dye he used to appease his mom washing out at the fried tips of his hair. Any more to drink and you’d convince yourself this is all some cruel dream. A ghost of the past haunting you in misery.

Yoongi might as well be. Nearly two years gone from the face of the Earth, only to be caught in short glimpses at parties or between class changes. Both of you spent the time reserved for each other with new people.

You missed him.

He turns to leave too soon; already halfway to the door before you speak.

“Stay?”

Even in your double vision you see the crack in Yoongi’s mask, the regret swelling to the surface. “She’s waiting back at my place.”

The summer comes with the suffocating muggy heat of your childhood home. Your parents fail to stifle their thrill Taehyung is out of the picture, more content to pretend he never existed in the first place.

Everyday blurs together, a routine you’ve maintained since you can remember. Hot days by the pool in your parents backyard (without Yoongi hiding in the shade), dinner at the greasy restaurant by the river with friends (but not Yoongi), and packing your room one last time (which holds too many memories of Yoongi).

The news comes from your mom.

She probes for information about the last time you heard from your neighbor turned friend turned stranger, complaining she misses having him around like when you were kids, asking what he’s been up to lately. It’s evident by your short response you haven’t heard yet.

He’s on the dilapidated swing set in his parents backyard when you find him. Shoulders slumped, toeing in the dirt, while he gazes beyond the treeline.

Silently, you take a seat in the second swing, ignoring the way the wood creaks under your weight. Without a word he hands you his phone. The screen is bright with the last messages.

Tiffany: you just seem to have a lot going on…

Tiffany: i don’t know if I can handle all of it

You hand back the device. There's nothing to say. Cursing her till you’re blue in the face won’t make him feel better and neither will platitudes. Yoongi won’t believe anything contrary to what she said, at least not right now when he’s reeling from a blow to his most vulnerable parts.

So you sit in silence until the moon swells in the sky. He isn’t ready to talk about it when you both fumble down to his parents basement. Or when he hits the Rick and Morty bong Seokjin bought him for Secret Santa years ago. Definitely not when he tries to kiss you and you let him. And not when you end up in his lap, both naked and fighting to detach from what exists beyond the tattered upholstery of the couch.

Yoongi finally speaks hours later, shoulder to shoulder in the comforting murky darkness of his room. You both still have the heated glow of bare skin sticking together where you touch but it turns clammy when he spills his guts.

He told her those three words after meeting her parents the week before. The first girl you’ve ever seen him be serious about. She said them back but Yoongi didn’t believe her. And the proof he was right sits immortalized in texts messages.

Each word cuts like a knife. Admitting his hurt, his vulnerabilities and weaknesses before shifting the focus to something safer like your break up from May and if Taehyung has tried anything.

He softens when your lips crest his shoulder. The lingering franticness fades with each peck as you move across his chest, then his throat, then his lips. Because you know Yoongi wants to talk about this once and never again. Needs to put it behind him before it becomes too real.

You leave for the city two weeks later and Yoongi follows after managing to snag a shitty IT job. He spends more time at your apartment than his own and when the girl you met through a roommate group moves out, Yoongi moves in.

Maybe it becomes too common of an occurrence. What was once reserved as an escape from the crushing weight of rejection, a way to find comfort in each other more than before, turned into a quick fix at the slightest annoyance. When you’re too pent up or Yoongi had a hard day. If you were feeling insecure after another failed date, or he simply wanted an easy lay with someone who knew how to get him off without the awkward pauses of learning.

Now, Yoongi bends you over the counter at three in the morning, lapping at your cunt like he didn’t have you sitting on his face before leaving for Namjoon's apartment to pre-game. The dig of the marble edge in your ribs is less alluring than the comfort of your bed; but what Yoongi wants he more often than not gets, so how do you refuse when he shuffles you into an Uber with hunger in his gaze and possessiveness in the grip on your thigh.

“Yoongi,” you sigh. Reaching back, one of your hands anchors in the short tufts of his hair, pressing him firmer into the ache of your pussy.

The tug of the cool counter top against your nipples works in his favor, leaving you desperate with a hitch in your throat each time you rock back into his waiting tongue. It dips into your opening, wedged between his fingers that dig into your walls just right after years of practice. Yoongi knows how to push all your buttons, he’s sewed half of them on.

Your forehead meets the marble on the next swell of his tongue except this time is across your ass and punctuated with a bite you’ll feel next time you sit. A harsh clench around his fingers grants you sinful drag of his tongue across the hole only ever explored by him.

“Fuc–Yoongi!”

Sloppy kisses follow your spine until he’s at your ear with his cock resting against the meat of your ass. You're bent back at the waist once again so he can pluck at your nipples the way he likes, until you're shuddering away and pleading for mercy in a way meant to spur him further.

“Bet Namjoon wouldn’t do this,” Yoongi grunts with a tease of his cock inside, bare.

He’ll never let you forget the semester of freshman year you drooled for his friend's dick while Namjoon remained none the wiser. Every unconscious shut down sent Yoongi into a sadistic fit of laughter until you cut your losses and called it quits.

You know why he’s bringing it up now. Namjoon looked good tonight. Newly single with a buzzcut that ruined most men’s allure. Maybe you contemplated re-igniting the old flame when he first showed up but now there's history and comradery that didn't exist in your younger days and it's too complicated just for the chance to satiate your curiosity. They’re all the same reasons you shouldn’t be fucking your best friend since grade school but none of it seems to have the same weight.

It didn’t matter what you decided because Yoongi saw enough temptation in your gaze to bring it up like he isn’t the one fucking you regularly.

Your pants fog across the marble. “Should we call and find out?”

His palm stings into your ass, heating the skin on impact. The opportunity to neg him into another smack passes too quickly. You’re already at the mercy of Yoongi’s mouth on yours, the taste of whiskey, stale cigarettes, and your pussy less than appealing but his tongue is hot when he licks behind your teeth.

A hand takes up the work between your legs, rough and rushed as you trapeze down the hallway towards the bedroom. Yoongi thumbs at your clit with intent. You nearly collapse against the wall with buckled knees from the onslaught of too much stimulation.

Breaching the bedroom door proves too much a struggle. Yoongi bounces off the door jam from a rough grope against his zipper which leaves you flailing before catching in the corner of the mattress. His room is too damn small for the king bed he insisted on but it makes for a great backdrop to your fucking. Miles better than the more practical queen hidden in your room further down the hall.

You manage to push him off long enough to dig your knees into the sheets, crawling to the pillows with an arch you know he’ll rib you for later.

“Coming?” You ask over your shoulder, eyeing the flash of his boxers creeping through the opening of his zipper.

Flopping on your back, you splay across the over abundance of pillows like a queen while Yoongi works off his pants. His hair is a mess and a bruise the size of your mouth blooms high enough on his neck he’ll have to wear turtlenecks for the next two weeks. “Spread your legs.”

“Do you one better.” It's a goad in the most obvious sense. He likes to watch you huff, failing to get yourself off until he intervenes and gives exactly what you need. So you throw your legs wide, bent at the knees just to make it clearer in the faint light spilling from the window, and sink a hand down and play with the mess he caused. “Mmmm, Yoongi.”

“Finger it for me,” he drawls.

Muscles melt at the first pass inside your already battered walls. Not as deft as his fingers but you won’t tell him that unprompted. Yoongi’s ego is big enough when it comes to your sex life, fueled by the knowledge he’s collected many of your firsts. But the way he palms over his underwear in mimic of your rhythm tempts you to break that rule.

“Come here.”

Yoongi just smirks at the demand, pushing the mess of his pants off until he’s bare and the maroon head of his cock makes you drool. “You come here.”

“I’m not playing naked chicken.” You growl. “Come fuck me before I get my vibrator.”

Flipping on your front with your ass in the air, you drive a hard bargain Yoongi’s never been capable of saying no to. The bed dips behind you, knees between your own, shuffling them wider so he can stretch you until you’re pliant and aching.

His chest melts to your back, sticking uncomfortable but you don’t care because it feels good. Like he’s consuming you. “How bad do you want it?” Yoongi bites into your shoulder.

“Yoongi, fuck.” Your arms collapse under the first rush of his hips, spin dipping harshly to take every inch until he’s flat against your rear.

In a blink, you’re parallel to the mattress, pinned under his weight. It’s pathetic for so early in the game but Yoongi is the same man who gave you so many orgasms you’ve cried so it only stands to reason he crumbles your bravado like it's nothing.

Sniffling in his hold, you turn to nose at his cheek over your shoulder. “Please, fuck me.”

“Shit,” he spits with a harsh thrust. “You’re so fucking tight for me.”

The next press of his hips leaves you heaving. Your hands scramble when he cants a bruising pace against your ass. Hard. All while every noise he tries to hide sings straight into your ear.

With immense effort, you wiggle onto your back. Yoongi meets you with a kiss, tongue to tongue while he works back inside where you both need him most.

The callous of his palm rakes against your throat, not squeezing, just a possessive firmness.

“H-harder,” you beg, nails leaving crescents in his shoulder.

Yoongi hitches your thigh over his; slowing so he can fuck you deeper, crushing every noise hiding in your gut out.

Shocked from the sudden rush against your clit, your leg kicks out straight. It’ll leave you sore in the hips come morning but right now you don’t even register the discomfort. “Oh, oh, oh!”

“Like that?” Somehow he manages to drag the head of his cock deeper from the praise.

“Just like that,” you pant into his mouth.

He leans back to watch your decay into desperation but stops when you tug him back by the sensitive roots of his hair. Cracking open your eyes, you find his brown ones inches away. Forehead to forehead while you both synthesize into a heap of flushed skin and need.

Fingers intertwined, Yoongi pins your hand on the pillow. Then he stares. Not at your face as you crest the first wave of an orgasm but your fingers curled between his. Like he’s never done it before, like he doesn’t know exactly how you two got in this position.

“Oh my god, Yoongi.”

You cum hard. Nearly managing to drive him out from the force to your insides. Every muscle twisting tighter and tighter until it breaks and when you pull his mouth back to yours all you can do is shake under his lips with cracked mewls.

Yoongi might be shaking too but he swells inside you with a groan, collapsing into your neck before your brain catches up to consider the idea.

Dodging an attempt at a final kiss, he favors his lips on your throat. Fleeting wet pecks that get you choking on air. Then your breasts where he takes up his abandoned work on your nipples, teeth flashing across the sensitive peaks until your shoulders cave and you're desperate for him again; grinding into the fingers he’s so readily supplies.

He’s fucked you like this before. When he has something to prove to the non-existent entity constantly creeping on his subconscious, when he feels he isn’t good enough in some intangible way. Asking him what's wrong won’t do anything. Yoongi will tell you when he’s ready; if he ever is. Years of friendship and the fear you’ll see a part of him capable of scaring you away still eats him alive. So you’ll give him whatever reassurance he needs this way and hope he understands.

Your second orgasm comes faster than the first. Trails of the previous pleasure pushing you swiftly along. Yoongi latches his lips around your clit and sucks until spots flash and your thighs nearly crush his head.

“Fuck, Yoongi. Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You cry, threatening to fold in half under his fingers. “G-gonna cum again.”

Flares of lightning in your blood explode. Throat raw from wailing, Yoongi works you through until you dig your ankle into his ribs and kick him off.

The cold air in the room helps cool your feverish skin unlike the dark haired man flopping next to you. It’s quiet around two sets of gasping breaths and the rain tapping at the window.

Shoulder to shoulder, you calm in the drum of the overhead fan. Yoongi’s fingers tangling and untangling with your own confirms your suspicion. Whatever he needs to tell you bubbles below the surface, swirling until he finds the safest words to share his feelings. There's no point in guessing but it doesn’t stop you from spiraling through the possibilities.

The major suspects lack any clear indication. His date last weekend ended with mutual disinterest. Nothing concerning his job registers in your vague memory. Both your parents were fine the last time you visited months ago. Yoongi’s nephew is fine—

“I told my mom you're my girlfriend.”

Well that's new. “Oh.”

“It was an accident but—”

“What’d she say?” You cut him off.

Yoongi hesitates. Your voice doesn’t betray disdain or hope, only reluctant curiosity. If you set too many expectations he’ll clam up and avoid you for months like when he lost his virginity at a party freshman year. Yoongi shares on his terms and you listen.

“That it was about time I got my head out of my ass.”

You wait for him to continue but he doesn’t. Yoongi’s palm slick against your own betrays his nerves, the ghost of squeeze begs for some kind of reassurance he isn’t crazy.

“Huh.” You exclaim to the ceiling. It’s not the worst idea. And its definitely not the first time you’ve entertained it.

He lets you go the second you tug on your connected hands, anticipating swift rejection that leaves you feeling sour. But you’re rolling into his chest, the now free hand protecting his sternum from the dig of your chin so you can stare him down until he finally blinks your way. You won’t let Yoongi wiggle away from this ten year overdue conversation.

“Is that what you want?”

The answer is clear in his eyes. Yoongi’s mouth rounds over the words to tell you, floundering silently because he’ll admit he isn’t good at things like this. But if it’s worth it to him then you need to hear him say it.

Rising up, you sit bare in his lap while he works through his nerves. Finally, when your hand cups his cheek and his eyes sink closed, leaning into the warmth, he tells you.

“That’s what I want.”

Your nose wrinkles with a shy smile. “Kinda cliche.”

Yoongi snorts when you kiss him but melts the cold facade swiftly.

“Yeah well,” he huff. “So is losing your virginity to your prom date but let's not talk about that.” Yoongi may spit the words but his hands, gentle where they trace the curve of your sides, betray his euphoria.

“We can talk about that too if you want.” You whisper into his jaw, lips prickling from the shadow growing there. “Prom me probably would have let you fuck her.”

“Yeah?”

You choke on a laugh at the pleased shock on his face. “Yeah, but not after that black eye came in.”

“Cheap fucking shot.” He grumbles under his breath, but you’re already there kissing the words from his lips. Yoongi indulges, melting further into the bed when his tongue timidly slips along yours. After you dip away to press more languid pecks where his cheeks round, he speaks again. “If I asked you out then what would you have said?”

“Well the only reason I said yes to whats-his-fuck was because someone else was too stubborn to ask me himself.” You hum in his ear. “Does that answer your question?”

You're on your back in a flash, pinned under your boyfriend who smiles as you flounder and fail to push him off.

“You need to be nicer to me,” he grunts when you knock out his arms and collapse his chest to yours.

“If you wanted someone nicer, then you had years to figure that out.”

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gejo333 · 4 months

Text

Artist credit: @chocolate_duckling via Instagram or TikTok. It’s so cute I just really wanted to show this artist’s work. This is only the first drawing to the set. 💕You should check them out.

An Unexpected Match IX

Pt. 1 Pt.10

DBF/DILF Miguel O’Hara x female reader

18+ Warning

Summary: Drama goes down at the holiday party😭😱… and did Miguel keep a secret from you?

Will you be able to enjoy your Christmas and New Years in peace?

Happy New Years Everyone!

Sorry this chapter took longer to get out. It’s my largest chapter yet. I apologize for any grammatical mistakes I missed.

Enjoy💕

Wc: 10k

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"Gabi, this is your mother."

Gabi looked at Sofia before looking back up to Miguel as she shook her head. "No, that's not my mama." Gabi glanced up to you, something you noticed everyone in the close vicinity saw, including your parents.

"No Gabi. I'm your real mom. Not her." Sofia put on a fake smile.

Hearing the tense conversation from the kitchen Stephanie came over as she stood next to you, giving Sofia the, 'make one wrong move and I'll fight you bitch,' gaze.

"Hey Gabi, how about you go with Aunt Steph to the kitchen."

"But I want to stay with you and Papa." Gabi looked up at you with sad eyes breaking your heart.

"Mija, remember the conversation we had earlier in the living room?" Said Miguel followed by a slow nod of Gabi's head. "That conversation is going to happen now. So it can only be grownups at the moment." He added.

"We can decorate cookies in the kitchen Gabi." Said Stephanie as Gabi slowly walked over to her before taking her hand. Stephanie looked at you giving you a small hopeful smile before disappearing into the kitchen.

"I'm guessing you need to tell us something?" Said your father as he crossed his arms looking between you, Miguel and Sofia.

Sofia smirked, "wow, your parents don't know that their daughter has been fucking a man almost two decades older than her for the last few months." She chuckled, knowing full well that she just told your biggest secret the most horrible way possible.

"Sofia." Miguel snapped at her warning her to stop. But it was too late. You looked to your shocked and upset parents before scanning around the nearby people who heard the conversation.

"This was not how you were supposed to find out." You tell them.

"Backyard now." Your Father said. Your eyes widen, shocked from his angry tone. You had never heard you father speak to you like that. Not once.

"You. We're not finish yet." Miguel said to Sofia. You'd never seen Miguel give such a muderous glare to someone before, but that plus his cold tone sent a chill up your spine.

"Wasn't planning on leaving any time soon."

"And if I find out you were near our daughter while we're outside. There will be hell to pay." Miguel pointed at you when he said 'our daughter,' which made your heart melt before coming back into reality from the glare Sofia sends you from Miguel's words and you winced when you heard your mother gasp.

All four of you walked out to the backyard, farthest from the house so people can't hear.

Your parents looked at Miguel before looking back at you both upset. The awkward silence continued until your father spoke up: " you care to explain what's happening between you two?"

Miguel looked to you, noticing your panicked stars making you have a hard time to speak.

"I'm in love with your daughter and we've been together for almost five months."

"Y/n, you can't possibly be in love with a man you met only 6 months ago! How did this thing even start?! Was Tyler right? Did you cheat on him with Miguel?" Your mother said going into a rant.

"First off, I do love him, way more than I ever felt for Tyler. And I can't believe you would think I would cheat on that bastard when he cheated on me. Like I told you earlier, my relationship started after I caught Tyler cheating on me."

"Hold on." Your father said as he began to grow more upset. "The morning I came to your house and asked you where my daughter is, she was with you wasn't she? And you lied to my face when my wife and I were worried sick where she was! She's only 21 Miguel. She's too young for you."

"I'm a grown woman and responsible adult. I'll be with whoever I want to be with." You argued.

"Sam, Sarah. She's been well taken care of these past few months." Added Miguel.

"You live with each other?! Y/n when I asked you where you were living you said with Stephanie."

"I did live with Stephanie. For the first month right after I moved out of the apartment I shared with Tyler."

"So, how did this even hap-" asked your farther before being cut off by your mother, "when did you both actually meet?"

Your eyes widen, as your heart began to beat faster. Your gaze turns to Miguel before looking back at your parents pissed expressions. You knew the next few words were going to make everything way worse.

"We did only meet six months ago. But, the first time we did met was in Miami."

"You mean two years ago in Miami? When you were only 19?!"

"You had sex with my daughter when she was 19?!" Your father grew more livid, as he was about to come after Miguel. Of course Miguel would easily be able to hold his own, however you wouldn't see it happen as you step in front of your father.

"Get out of the way y/n." Your father warned you. When you didn't move a second later he grabbed you harshly by the wrist, making you wince as he nails cut into you as he pulled you away.

On instinct Miguel pushed Sam back as he grabs you by the waist and back to him. He quickly checked your wrist, anger rising on his face when he saw the already forming bruises.

"Dont you dare harm her again. We're leaving." Miguel was about to lead you back inside the house when your mother gently grabbed your non-brushed arm and said with a serious gaze,

"We'll stop paying for school. We won't pay for graduate school either, if you continue this." Said your mother, concerned etched on her face. Your eyes widen, anger coursing through your body.

"You're going to make me chose between my education and the man I love? Please don't make me do that. You know what I'm going to chose." You give Miguel's hand a squeeze knowing it would always be you and Gabi first.

"I'll pay for the rest of her education." Miguel joined in.

"That's insane. Her senior year alone will cost almost 50k for one semester. Plus forget about us helping you with your student loan debt. And that's way more than just 50k and that's just undergrad." Argued your mother, trying to scare him away.

"I can easily afford it. Money doesn't scare me away." Miguel shot back, knowing full well the intention behind her words. You looked to Miguel with a confused look before looking to your father who says, "she's too young to handle a world like that."

"Too young to handle what world? Miguel what's he talking about?"

"Mi amor, I was going to tell you soon."

"Wow, little miss perfect really is clueless." Sofia chuckled as she walked into the backyard.

"Sofia, get out. None of this concerns you." Miguel said before you stepped away from him, walking closer to her.

"Hold on, what am I so clueless about little miss bitch?" You bite back.

"I'll give you that sweetie, just because I'm such a nice person. It's kind of funny how you never thought of looking up your boyfriend. But like come on, who doesn't know about Nueva York's most successful, self-made billionaire Miguel O'Hara. And one of Nueva York's top socialite bachelors." Sofia tried to stifle her laughter when she saw your shocked expression.

Your eyes widen, a hurt expression crossed your eyes as you looked at Miguel who looked back at you with a sad and apologetic look before his gaze returned to a vicious glare back at Sofia.

"How did you even find where I lived, Sofia?"

" I found you from a tabloid Magazine of Mr. Richie rich picking up his doting girlfriend at her college. You can't possibly not have known about his wealth. You must be a really good gold digger to fool him." Sofia's words turned back to you.

"I-" You were having trouble finding words to argue back. Luckily Miguel stepped in to save you.

"You must have been oblivious not that long ago, Sofia. Because I remember our shitty relationship ending because I was too poor. And I bet the reason your back isn't for Gabi but because you also found out I have money."

"How dare you think I'm not here to see Abby."

"It's Gabi." You glare at her with a look of disgust that she couldn't remember her own daughter's name.

"Right. Well I'm not leaving anytime soon. I want time with my daughter."

"Over my dead body. You gave up all your custody rights when you abandoned her at my apartment when she was only a day old!" Miguel's voice grew slightly louder, growing more angry by the thought of Gabi being taken away from her family. You put your hand in Miguel's, your thumb gently caressing his knuckles to help calm him down.

"Maybe we should leave." You say to him, which he looked to you, gaze becoming soft as he nodded, still trying to calm down.

You both walk back into the house ignoring your parents yelling at you from the background, ignoring all the stares, and comments. You head to the kitchen as you see Gabi with Stephanie and Jack decorating cookies.

"Hey, thank you for watching her. We decided we're going to leave. I'll see you in a few days." You give Stephanie a small smile as you wipe Gabi's face off from the green frosting with a wet napkin before you pick her up in your arms. You hear your parents back inside as they call out for you, still upset. But you ignore them as you and Miguel leave.

You head to Miguel's car where everything for Christmas and staying in the city was packed. You buckle Gabi in her car seat, placing a kiss to the top of your head a smile escapes your lips as you see her yawn before you get in on the passenger side.

The entire ride to the city was in silence. You were slightly upset at Miguel for lying to you, maybe more upset since you were heartbroken by your parent's heartless reaction about your relationship with Miguel.

Miguel entered a large driveway to a luxurious apartment complex, where a man in doorman uniform came to the window with a welcoming smile. "Good evening Mr. O'Hara. Would you like the car parked?"

"Yes, thank you. Also could you have the things in the trunk sent up to my apartment?"

"Of course, sir."

You and Miguel got out of the car, you grabbed your purse as Miguel carried a now sleeping Gabi in his arms. He handed the young man a $100 tip before he guided you inside the modern apartment complex. Walking inside you were greeted by someone friendly at the front desk.

"Good evening Mr. O'Hara. Welcome back." To which Miguel nodded and smiled to the person in response.

When you entered the elevator Miguel pressed a fob key to a scanner, before the elevator began to move up. You noticed there were no buttons for levels, which you thought was interesting. Your gaze met his, as you saw that he wanted to say something but decided against it.

After a few minutes the elevator stopped and opened up to a vast and nice entry way. When you stepped outside and turned the corner your eyes widen by the massive penthouse. Your gaze quickly switched from the nice interior decoration to the gorgeous night skyline of Nueva York. Maybe if your heart didn't ache you would have enjoyed seeing this view for the first time.

"Cariño, I put Gabi in her bedroom. I know there's a lot we need to talk about. But first I want to say I'm so sorry that I didn't say anything about who I was I-" you turned to face him with a small smile as you interrupted him.

"Miguel, you don't need to give me an excuse. It's your money. Maybe I was a bit naive, as you do have two properties plus you bought one upstate. But I just thought you did really well at your job at Alchemax. Did I expect you to be a billionaire? No. But that doesn't change anything between us. I guess what maybe it hurt a bit. The reason why you didn't mention it was maybe you didn't fully trust me yet. Like maybe what Sofia said about me being a gold digger, maybe you were waiting to see if I was one or not. Or maybe that's just my insecurities consuming my mind. And I'm not even upset. I'm more upset at myself that for even a minute that I was upset at you for it. But I'm not. I just think with my parents reaction and Gabi's mom coming to the party unexpectedly I just didn't know where to put my emotions and I'm sorry."

You look up at him with tears in your eyes, trying to hold them in. But a second later you couldn't hold them much longer as they poured down your cheeks faster than you could wipe them away. You felt arms wrap around you, pulling you against him into a hug, as he brushed the hair out of your face as well as wiping away your tears.

"I hate to see you this way, mi amor. It breaks my heart when you're hurting like this. You don't need to apologize, at all." He lifted your chin lovingly as he added, "I have always trusted you. Since day one I have always thought of you as a kind and loving person. Even with the slight knowledge that I do well, I never thought of you as a gold digger. That's just Sofia, trying to get into your head. She is a gold digger not you. Also, you are Gabi's mom not Sofia. I might have said that at the moment, cause I just was in shock at the party. At the moment the words to explain how she biologically is her mother was not coming to my mind. You are Gabi's mom. Gabi see's you as her mom and I see you as her mom, as well as the love of my life. And I think we should explain it to her tomorrow morning. And I'm sorry that your parents reacted like that. I knew that they might have been a bit upset, but I didn't think they would act so cruel. But they aren't your only family. Gabi and I are your family just as much as they are. And as your family and your boyfriend I will pay for the rest of your education."

"Miguel... no. I can figure it out on my own. It's my responsibility. And I will find a better part time job to help pay for the rest of college and I will set up a payment plan with my loans. Most people do this."

"Cariño, I can't just stand to the side and let you struggle with debt. Please let me help you." You get out of his embrace, looking up at him slightly annoyed that he won't take no for an answer.

"Are we really going to get in an argument over this?"

"We won't because I'll pay for it."

"Miguel, please just let this one go. Please." You look up at him with pleading eyes, to which he let out a sigh, deciding to let it go for now. He pulled you into another embrace leaning in to place a kiss to your lips which you happily returned. After the kiss you stay in each other's arms, trying to forget all of the stress and worries from tonight.

"Mama, Papa."

You and Miguel turned to see Gabi from the hallway in her Pjs and holding her favorite stuffed Bunny in her arms.

"Oh Baby bug, what are you doing up so late? We thought you were asleep." You say and you and Miguel walk over to her as he picks her up in his arms. You brush some of the curls out of her face and behind her ear.

"I couldn't go back to sleep. And I heard you crying mama and I wanted to give you a hug to make you feel better." Said Gabi as she pouted, not liking the thought that you were sad. You took Gabi into your arms as you gave her a big hug and a kiss on the top of her head.

"I'm sorry if I woke you. I'm alright though, but thank you for your hug. It helped a lot." You smiled which made Gabi's pout turn into a grin as she wrapped her arms around your neck, "I love you mama."

"I love you too my baby bug. Now let's get you back to bed."

"Wait, who was that lady at the party? Papa said she was my mama, but you are my mama." You and Miguel look at each other before you both sit on the sofa in the living room. Miguel picked up Gabi and sat her on his lap as you sat right next to him, putting her feet on your lap.

"I'm sorry if I confused you earlier, princesa."

"I asked Auntie Stephanie and Uncle Jackie, but they wouldn't tell me anything. They just kept on giving me cookies to decorate." Gabi pouted slightly. You internally chuckled when you heard Gabi call your brother Uncle Jackie. You were never going to stop teasing him about that.

"Well I'm glad they didn't tell you because it's better that Mama and I explain it to you." Said Miguel as you noticed he try to stifle a laugh from the silly nickname she gave your older brother. Miguel looked back at you, worry in his eyes. You smiled softly and brushed some of his dark curls that have fallen out of place behind his ear. Even though Miguel has been in the parenting game a lot longer than you, you could see that he was still learning too. He smiled at you before taking a deep breath and exhaling.

" Sometimes not all Mama's and Papa's are biologically related to their children. But that doesn't mean they aren't your Mamas and Papas. The woman you met today, she isn't your Mama. I'm sorry that I confused you earlier. Papa wasn't thinking properly. Y/n is your Mama, but the woman you met today, Sofia, she carried and gave birth to you."

"Are you bio-logitally to me Papa?" You and Miguel lightly chuckled as Gabi tried to pronounce such a big word for her age.

"Yes, I am."

"How did you help that lady bring me to life?" Both your and Miguel's eyes widen from her question as your cheeks tinted pink and Miguel coughed from the sudden question.

"That's a question that will be answered when you're old enough to understand." You chuckle as you pick Gabi up and hold her in your arms. "But even though I didn't give birth to you. You'll always be my daughter and my baby bug. And I will always love you."

"I love you too Mama." Gabi wrapped her tiny arms around your neck again giving you another hug.

"Now let's get you to bed."

All exhausted from the hectic events taking place both you and Miguel got undressed and under the covers, falling asleep right away in each others arms.

The next morning you woke up to the beautiful city view skyline, bringing a warm smile to your face happy to finally enjoy the beautiful scenery before you. You sit up to look for your phone, but notice it was on Miguel's side table charging. Another smile came to your face, as you loved how thoughtful Miguel was to you. Knowing that the sun was up, you knew he would be up any minute so to get your phone you decided to straddle him before leaning over to grab your phone.

You turned it back on a frown forming on your lips as you saw the hundreds of texts and miscalls from your parents and siblings. You scrolled through some of them, and rolled your eyes seeing the repetitive cruel things your parents said yesterday now on text. The messages from your brothers were nicer, just trying to be the bridge between the two disputing sides.

Large hands made their way to your waist, as his thumb gently rubbed circles to your sides. You places the phone to the side as your frown is replaced by a warm smile as you looked down at your half-awake boyfriend.

"Good morning."

"Good morning, cariño. Though I'm really enjoying waking up to you straddling me, I didn't think I would see you frowning first thing when I see your beautiful face. What's wrong?"

You leaned down and gave him a good morning kiss, to which Miguel took the advantage of wrapping his arms around you and bringing you down on to his chest, which made you laugh in surprise between his loving kisses. Placing one more kiss to his lips you place your face in the crook of his neck, enjoying the mixture of his shampoo and cologne blending into a welcoming scent of citrus, bamboo, amber, patchouli and musk. With his alluring smell, the gently combing his fingers through your hair, and the rhythm of his beating heart made you almost fall back asleep.

"I checked my phone, thank you for charging it for me. But I saw what feels like a hundred texts and miss calls from my parents. And it's all the same horrible stuff they were saying last night."

"I'm sorry you had to see that. Obviously they'll be calling us both today. I just say we ignore it for now and enjoy the our time in the city." Miguel said after checking his phone to see just as many texts and miss calls from your parents.

"I think that's a good idea. Oh, forgot to say. Merry Christmas Eve." You kiss up his neck to his chin before reaching his plush lips.

"Merry Christmas Eve, mi amor."

After a few more sweet kisses you decided to unstraddle his lap, to Miguel disappointment. But you tease of a person, whispered in his ear, "I'm hoping Santa Claus visits me tonight. But I think I'm on the naughty list." You gently kiss the side of his neck before getting up from the bed and leaving a blushing Miguel as you quickly put on a pair of his sweat pants and one of your bras and tank tops before going to the elevator where all your things from the car were neatly placed by the doorman.

You grabbed the bags of all the gifts you had bought and bring them back to the bedroom. When you entered, Miguel was sitting up in bed looking at his phone, obviously irritated.

You set the bags down, except for one semi-large box. You get back on the bed as you straddle his legs and place the box on his lap. "Maybe this will let that iconic O'Hara smile show. Is everything ok though?"

Miguel placed the phone on the bed next to him, surprised to see the box on his lap as his smile reappeared.

"I guess out of spite, your mother gave Sofia my new phone number. And now she won't stop texting me. She's being 'nice.'" Miguel air quotes the word nice before he handed you over his phone so you could see. Your eyebrows furrowed as you saw the sickly sweet messages from her. However, you smiled when you saw the text he sent her back, obviously irritated and asking her not to text him again.

"Enough about the pains in our side. I got you something. Ok, maybe it's for us. But you don't get to see the other part until tonight." You wink at him, which earned a smirk on his lips as he opens the box. His brows furrowed with a smile on his face as he lifted pieces of soft red and white clothing. You decide to get off the bed as you see him get out of bed, getting a nice glance of only him in his boxers before he put on the suit.

Your eyes widen, grin growing, cheeks growing a shade red as you see him in the final product. He wore a deep red Santa suit with white fluff lining down his chest meeting into a middle right above his waist with a large black belt and followed by deep red pants that shaped him just as well at the top part. And it all matched with black boots.

"How do I look?" Miguel smirked. You walk up to him as you placed your hands on his bare chest.

"Really sexy. Maybe too sexy. I don't think I'll be able to keep my hands of you." You chuckle.

"I like the words coming out of your mouth."

"I bet you'll like what my mouth is going to do." You go on your knees, eyes never leaving his reddish-brown. Settled between his legs as you lower his pants and free his erect cock.

You stroked him a few times before you dragged your tongue up his member before kissing his leaking tip. You open your mouth for him to slide onto your tongue and down your throat your lust-filled gaze not leaving his own as a groan escaped his lips.

"Mi amor, your too good to me. I don't deserve you or your pretty mouth." Miguel moaned out as his hand reached the back of your head. His fingers intertwined into your hair as he gently thrusts into your throat. You hum against his cock in approval, earning another groan from Miguel's lips. Miguel gently thrusts more of himself into your mouth; but as this wasn't the first blow job you've given him, you've gotten quite enough practice to be able to deep throat him now. As he continued his movements you continued to move your tongue along his cock.

"Fuck baby, I can't last much longer." Miguel thrusted his cock as deep as it could go before spilling it into your throat. You happily take him all before removing your mouth and licking his tip clean. You slowly wiped your thumb across your lip, as a bit was left on your lips before you licked it off your finger, while your gaze stayed locked on his.

"My god, mi amor. You make me want to ravage you when you do that."

"Why don't you then." You grin, standing up from your spot on the ground. Miguel grabs you and puts you on the bed, as you get on top of you he raises you shirt kissing your stomach up to your breasts, as he was about to take a nipple into his mouth the doorbell rang from the hallway.

"What was that?"

"Nothing hermosa." Miguel said as he took a nipple in his mouth, before lowering one of his hands into your sweats about to finger fuck you. However, the doorbell rang again. A growl of frustration left Miguel as he kissed your lips before getting off of you. He checked his phone, and sighed. "Ese maldito hermano mío. Gabriel's here early. Again. I'm sorry cariño." (that damn brother of mine.)

"It's ok, Miggy. We can continue later. Plus I still have that second part of the gift to show you tonight." You kiss him one more time before getting off the bed.

"I can't wait for it."

After both getting quickly dressed in proper clothing, Miguel pressed a button on his phone that let the elevator come up to the penthouse.

As the elevator doors open, walked in Gabriel with his usual bright smile as he carried in

two bags filled with gifts.

"Y/n! It's so good to see you again! I'm hoping my brother hasn't been tormenting you too much. Blink twice if you need saving." Gabriel chuckled as he set down the bags as he gave you a hug which you happily returned.

"Juro por Dios..." Miguel lightly glared as he sent him a 'I'm going to kill you,' smile at his brother as he stood right next to you.

"He's been good. And I'm good too. It's nice to see you again. Feels like it's been a while." You chuckle at Gabriel's silly personality.

"Now where's my little sobrina." (Niece)

"Asleep. She went to bed late, so we're letting her sleep a bit longer." Said Miguel.

"Aw, ok. Is she ok?" Gabriel asked, worry etched in his tone.

"She's fine. A lot happened yesterday. My parents , well the neighborhood knows about our relationship now and..." you looked to Miguel.

"Sofia somehow found out where I lived and came to the holiday party and said to Gabi that she was her mother." Added Miguel.

"Yeah, I would probably have a hard time sleeping too. And I can't believe that damn woman shows up after everything she's done." Gabriel eyes widen before a his brows furrowed and a frown appeared on his face, something rarely that happens, by the mention of Sofia's name.

"We decided though that we are going to live our lives and try to ignore it all as much as we can." You said.

"That sounds like a good plan. Now, let me make you all a proper Christmas Eve breakfast, my brother never can get our mother's recipe quite right." Gabriel heads to the kitchen.

"I swear he wants me to punch him." Miguel grits his teeth as he sends a glare to the back of his brother's head. You chuckle as you caress Miguel's cheek.

"How about you go check on your emails really quick in your office and I'll go help Gabriel in the kitchen." You go on your tip toes as Miguel nods before he leans down the rest of the way to kiss you, giving you a loving smile before heading to his office.

You head to the kitchen wear you see Gabriel cracking eggs into a bowl.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" You smile as you wash your hands before drying them.

"Yes, you can. Can you grate some of these cheeses?"

"Sure thing." You smile as you go through the many cabinets trying to find the cheese grater.

"Third bottom cabinet to your right."

"Thank you. It's my first time here, so I don't know where everything is." You go to the right cabinet and take it out before you hoping Gabriel at the kitchen island and started to grate the cheeses for the omelettes.

"If you don't mind me asking, what exactly happened last night?" Gabriel looked over at you with a small smile before looking back at the task before him. You smile back as you tell him everything that happened last night, from Gabi starting to call you Mom, parents finding out about your relationship with Miguel told by Sofia who appeared out of nowhere and causing trouble herself, and then the part about how you didn't know about Miguel's wealth status, also cruelly told by Sofia.

"Wow, that definitely is a crazy night. I'm happy you also know about Miguel's 'status,' he's been wanting to tell you for a long time, but he just didn't know when to say it. I guess he was worried you might leave. But he never said that, but I can just hear it in his voice. My brother has had girlfriends in the past, but he's never loved someone like he loves you. He's heads over heels for you." Gabriel smiles at you as he moved to pour the eggs into the pan.

"Well, I hope he knows this. But I'm heads over heels for your brother. I can't imagine not having him or Gabi in my life." As if on cue Miguel walked into the kitchen, with a loving smile on his face as his gaze met yours. You cheeks tint pink, wondering if he heard you and Gabriel's conversation. He places his hands on your hips as he pulled you into his embrace from behind, taking your chin and placing a sweet kiss on your lips.

"I love you." He said. Your cheeks grew a shade darker. Oh he definitely heard your conversation.

"I love you too."

"Ok, you two. Either get a room or help me with cooking." Gabriel chuckled as he connoted to make the omelettes.

You saw Miguel roll his eyes, as he leaned down to kiss your one last time before he gently pushed Gabriel away from the stove, "I'll do it. You're burning them."

"B-burning them? I'm adding a nice crisp! You make them too watery!" Gabriel argued back as he tried to get back to the pan, though tall and fit he was still no where compared to his older brother.

You smile at the two O'Hara brother, leaving them to continue their banter while you head to Gabi's room. Checking the time, you thought it was smart for Gabi to wake up. You gently open the door, as you quietly walk in. You look around to see the adorable light blue room, filled with a few soccer balls, dolls, and legos filled with butterflies and soccer balls decorated around the room. You kneel down by her bedside. Your heart on the verge of bursting for how adorable she was.

"Good morning Baby bug. Merry Christmas Eve. It's time to wake up." you gently brush some of her brown curls, the same has her fathers, covering her face. Big brown eyes reveal themselves to you, and a small smile appears on her face.

"Mama!"Getting a boost of energy, Gabi sits up to hug you. Lifting her out of bed, you stop, before grabbing her stuffed bunny know that she would want to have that with her.

"How did you sleep?" You step out of her room.

"Good!" She smiled after yawning as she rested her head in the crook of your neck.

"Oh guess who's here?"

"Santa!" Gabi's head popped up as she looked at you with excitement, which made you chuckle.

"Not Santa, it's too early for him to visit yet. He comes during the night. Tio Gabi is here."

"That's even better!" Gabi cheered which warmed your heart as you kissed the top of her head before making your way into the kitchen.

"Guess who's awake." You say, having the two O'Hara brothers turn to face you and Gabi.

"Good morning princesa." Miguel smiled at the loving sight of you and Gabi. He was about to walk over to lift her into his arms, but was beat to it by his brother. "Aw my mini Gabi! My favorite sobrina. I've missed you." You handed Gabi over to Gabriel as he gives her a big hug.

"Tio Gabi, I'm your only sobrina." Gabi giggled.

"Who knows Gabi, maybe you'll get a littler brother or sister one day." Chuckled Gabriel, which made Gabi eyes brighten up as her mile widens. "Really?! Mama, Papa! Will I?"

Your cheeks turn a bright red, eyes widen. Your embarrassment grew further as you felt Miguel hand on your lower back.

"N-no princesa. Not at the moment. But maybe one day." Miguel looks down at you, trying to figure out what you thought.

"Yes, definitely one day. But not at the moment sweetheart."

"Aw ok."

You felt Miguel give you a love squeeze to your waist, pulling you into his chest and placing a kiss to your cheek, hinting that he liked your answer before making his way to his brother, "now let me get a hug from my daughter."

"Papa!" Gabi smiled as she practically hopped out of Gabriel's arms and into her father's.

After breakfast was finished being made everyone sat together at the dinning table. Miguel helped cut up Gabi's omelette, which you smiled at the sight, wanting to keep this moment as a mental image in your head.

You recalled how the topic of having more kids has been brought up a few times recently. You know with Miguel being in his late thirties, he probably wants to get married and have a few more children. And you know that one day he will want to talk about it seriously with you.

And of course you're not against the idea of getting married and giving Gabi a few brothers or sisters, but you know you want to have your career start off first. But you're not sure if Miguel will want to wait that long. Sometimes you forget the age difference between the both of you. Yeah, there are many couples with big age gapes, some even bigger, but probably when both people were both out of school and had somewhat of a career. Of course you know exactly what you want to do, you just haven't gotten to start it yet. Maybe you should ask Miguel about how you get noticed by Alchamex.

"Mi amor? Y/n?" Miguel called out your name, concern seen in his eyes.

"Yes, sorry. I got lost in my own thoughts. What were we talking about?" Your cheeks tuned pink, embarrassed from not paying attention to your boyfriend talking to you.

"It's alright, cariño. I was asking if you wanted to go ice skating in Central Park." Miguel chuckled, he thought your slight embarrassment was cute.

"I would love to."

"Then maybe after we could go see Santa at Macys. I heard he's making a quick appearance here in New York before he flies all around the world to give presents." Said Gabriel, which perked Gabi's attention.

"Can we go! Please!"

"Of course, we can!" Said Gabriel. You looked over to Miguel who sighed to himself, only you catching it. You take his hand and give it a small squeeze, to which he smiled.

"Well then let's get all bundle up to go." You say as you stand up.

After getting Gabi ready and let her go hangout with Gabriel in the living room, Miguel joined you in the bedroom. As you pulled the long sleeve sweater over your head, your met with a kiss to your lips. Thought surprised you smile into the kiss before pulling away.

Miguel goes into his walk in closest, getting warmer clothes for outside. You walk and lean on the doorframe of his closet.

"Hey, can I ask a question?"

Miguel looks at you trying to figure out if its series are not. Seeing that it doesn't seem serious he smiles, "Of course." He says as he pulls his shirt off and puts on the new one.

"I need to start looking for jobs and grad schools in Nueva York. I don't know why I feel weird asking you this. Maybe because your my boyfriend, and I'm really acting my

age right now." You nervously chuckle before adding, "And I know you did the grad/internship program at Alchamex, well they asked you to cause you are a certified genius, before going full time there. I was wondering if you knew when they start looking for new grads and interns." You bit your lip, for some reason your nerves were skyrocketing throughout your body. Maybe because you were asking for genius Alchamex Miguel and not your boyfriend.

"Well, first off. You never should have to feel nervous with me. You know I would give you the world if I could. And I remember you were interested in working in my department at Alchamex. I can look at your resume and transcript when we get back, if you'd like?" Miguel smiled as he looped his belt around his pants before buckling it together.

"That would be really sweet of you. I would really like that. Thank you."

"Anything for you, mi amor." Miguel pulled you into his lap, as he sat down on the leather bench, his shoes and socks next to him.

"Hey, I know the topic of children has come up a few times lately." His words began to make your heart race against your chest. "And I-"

"Are you two almost ready to go?" Gabriel yelled from the hallway.

Not ready to have this talk so soon, as your 99.99% sure of what he is goi by to say. You get out of his lap, "yeah, just getting shoes on. Be right there." You say before turning to face to face Miguel, "I'll go check on those two to make sure they aren't getting into any trouble. Specifically Gabriel." You say before walking out of the closest and out of your bedroom.

"Y/n" you heard your name right when you left the bedroom, but you decide to pretend you didn't hear him as you continue your way to the living room.

After getting downstairs and walking over just a block to Central Park from the apartment and adventuring through the beautiful winter scenic view.

You walked by Miguel 's side gloved hand in gloved hand, Gabriel a few steps ahead holding Gabi's hand.

For it being Christmas Eve, you were surprised by the lack of people skating on the ice. Unknown to you Miguel had called ahead and bought for the ice skating to be almost sold out for a few hours today, letting only a few other people to skate, so it didn't look conspicuous.

"Wow, look! It's so pretty!" Gabi said as she jumped up and down in excitement. "Well he there Gabi. Don't worry." Gabriel chuckled as Gabi tried to pull him to move faster.

By the time all four of you made it and got your skates, you sat down on the wooden bench to get yours on. Miguel came over to you, looking even more like a giant as he had his skates on. After you made sure yours were tight, Miguel lent you a hand and helped you up.

You all made it to the ice rink, and despite skating every year during the holidays since you were younger than Gabi you were slightly nervous to get on the ice. But like every year you swallow your nerves and get on the ice, and as soon as you do you feel happy and relaxed.

You get a few feet from the entrance before swiftly turning around as you see Miguel help Gabi on to the ice. Just like you, you could see the worry in her eyes as Miguel helped her to step on to the ice. Then as he stepped on to the ice behind her, he began to skate over to you, his hand under her arms to help keep her up. The laughter and smiles on both Gabi and Miguel's face made your heart melt from the adorable site. You couldn't resist as you took your phone out of your pocket and took a photo of them, making sure to show it to Miguel later.

"Look Mama! I'm on the ice!"

"I can see that baby bug. You're doing great." You say as Miguel skates her over to you.

"Now Gabi, you can't lock your knees when you skate. Always make sure they are slightly bent. And don't lean back. And it's almost like walking, your feet are just slowly sliding on the ice. Just like when you slide with your furry socks on the hardwood floors. Now Mama is right in front of you. Do you want to try and skate to her?"

"Yeah!" Gabi nods. As she was told she tried to follow her father'a instructions. As soon as she got a foot away from him, you saw her nerves come back as she begin to freeze, before anything could happen you skate the last few feet towards her as you hold both her hands.

"It's ok, baby bug. I got you. But great job on trying. I remember when I was your age, it took me some time on the once before I felt comfortable enough to skate on my own."

"Like Mamita said, you'll get there when you do. But for now you can skate with us." Miguel skilled and skated up next to the both of you as he took her other hand. You and Miguel begin to skate really slow to help Gabi learn how to properly skate, and to gain the confidence to do it on her own.

After skating for a while together, Gabi finally got the confidence to try on her own, of course with you and Miguel right behind her, just in case she fell, which she did.

After a few tears were shed, and a bunch of hugs and kisses were given to make her feel better, plus a hot chocolate with whip cream and marshmallows made her frown turn back into her beautiful smile.

All four of you decided to take a nice walk through the park.

"Wait! Can I make a snowman?" Asked Gabi as she runs towards the vast amount of snow covering the park.

"Of course!" You say as you follow her into the snowy field. You help Gabi with forming the body of the snowman, however, the little five year old decided to gather up snow into her tiny gloved palms and form a ball.

"Mama, can we throw one at Papa?" Gabi grinned, which made you laugh. "Yes." You mimicked her grin as she passed you the snowball, and made herself another one.

Miguel's back was facing you and Gabi at the moment as he talked to Gabriel. Knowing you wouldn't be able to get close without his crazy good hearing warning you of your presence, you stop just a few feet from him.

"Ok, three, two, one...throw" you whisper yell as both you and Gabi throw the harmless snow at Miguel's back.

Miguel quickly turned around with a surprised face, a smile appearing as he saw both you and Gabi try to hide your laughter. Of course Gabriel couldn't hide his, as he burst out in laughter from his brother's reaction.

"Oh, we want to play like that. Do we know?" Miguel chuckled before he slowly began to walk over to both of you, before jumping into a sprint. You and Gabi ran in the opposite direction, Gabi squealing in delight. Of course you didn't get far before Miguel grabbed you by the waist and pulled you into his chest, however you both lost your balance and fell backwards into a large pile of snow, that was luckily there to make the landing soft. Gabi followed right after you by falling on to Miguel as he caught her with the other arm that wasn't around you.

All three of you laughed, as you laid in the pile of snow. "Mis traviesas niñas." Said Miguel before he pulled you both in for a hug.

"Aww, such a cute family! Makes me want to settle and have one." Said Gabriel as he took a photo of the three of you.

"Well maybe you should, so that you'll bother me less." Said Miguel.

"Nah, you would miss me too much."

Gabi got up, followed by you as you lent a hand to Help Miguel up. But you noticed the mischievous grin on his face a little too late as he pulls you back down into his chest.

"Miguel!" You giggle before they are deal by a kiss.

"Ok, you two love birds. I got a photo for the picture books, now get up. I'm freezing." Said Gabriel after taking a photo of you and Miguel knowing you both would want these sweet moments saved. He handed Miguel's phone back to him which he had stolen to take photos.

After heading back to the apartment, having dinner, and opening the presents Gabriel brought it was time to say goodnight and goodbye.

"I had a great day with all of you. I hope you have a nice Christmas and new years. I'll see you both next year!" Gabriel said as he saluted off before the elevator door closed on him.

You let out a small laugh after you saw Miguel roll his eyes from his brother's words.

You both head to the bedroom to finish wrapping presents from Santa for Gabi.

"Finally done. Now to put them under the tree." Said Miguel as he lays his head on your lap, relaxed by you combing your fingers through his hair.

"There's one more gift left." You grin down at him as he looks up at you confused.

"Where is it?" Miguel sighs softly thinking it's another large present to wrap from Santa.

"It will be here after Santa puts the presents under the tree." You say with hint of lust in your tone before you lean down and kiss him.

"I can't wait to see what it is." Miguel returns the kiss, getting the hint, as he grins and leaves your lap stacking all the presents as he quietly heads to the living room, careful not to wake Gabi.

You quickly get out of your day clothes already wearing it underneath. You had seen the holiday-themed lingerie when you were shopping, and you knew Miguel would love it.

Putting your clothes in the hamper you rushed to the master bathroom, taking your hair out of the low hanging bun, fixing it up a bit. You check yourself in the mirror happy with the final product. You were wearing dark red lingerie, with a bra that tied in to a semi large bow in the front, which once untied reveals your bare chest. To match you wore the same color panties that had a bit of tulle around it, creating a extremely short, really a skirt, skirt. But who cares, it was going to be tossed to the floor in a matter of minutes anyways.

You checked the time on your phone, it's was midnight, officially making it Christmas. When you hear his footsteps coming, you lean against the bed as soon as he opened the door.

When his eyes met yours, they widened before being filled with lust, as he made his way over to you. He grabbed you by the waist as he pulled you against his bare chest.

"Merry Christmas Miggy."

"Merry Christmas in deed, mi hermosa amor." Miguel looks you over, savoring every single detail of you. He too your chin and gently lifted it as he leaned down and kissed you, Persian galore of himself into you. Your core tightened at the feeling of his hard-on against your stomach.

"One more thing. Pull the ribbon." You smiled against his lips. Miguel kissed your lips one more time before doing as you said. In one swift pull, the perfect bow was gone revealing your chest. You could see the lust cloud his eyes more, and in a blink of an eye you were underneath him on the bed, as his lips kiss down from your neck, down to your breasts. "Tan hermosa." His lips latched on to one of your nipples, hitching your breath letting out a moan. His hand swiftly moved your panties to the side inserting a finger into your aching cunt. Another moan escaped your lips.

"Keep singing for me, cariño." Miguel con tied to mark up your breasts as he thrusted a second finger into you, curling his fingers knuckles deep.

"Mhmm please Miguel." You moaned out as you near your breaking point.

"You want to cum mi amor?"

"Yes, please Miggy." You groan as you feel the loss of his fingers. Before you know it, your straddle on top of him, as he slams you down on to his cock.

"Only good girls get to cum, and I thought you said this morning your were naughty. You want to cum? Bounce on my cock until I think you deserve your release." Miguel grinned.

You lightly glare down at him as his grin widens further. However, the need for your release was too much as you begin to move your hips. You rarely fuck in this position, so the feeling of his cock stabbing deeper into you was heavenly. Your clench against him, earning a groan from him.

"Damn baby, your so fucking tight."

At the pace you were going, your hips began to grow tired starting slowly lose your rhythm. However, Miguel being your savior grabbed your hips and began to move you up and down keeping up with your quick and rough pace. You began to feel your core tighten once again.

"Miguel please. Please." You whine out your brain begins to feel foggy only focusing on the feeling of his thick ridged cock thrusting in and out of you.

"Are you a good girl?" Miguel panted from beneath you.

"Y-yes I am. I'm a good girl. Now please Miguel." You whine out.

"Of course, cariño." Miguel chuckled as he flipped you, now in missionary as his pace quickened, pummeling his cock deep inside you as his balls slap against you. His hand lowered to your clit as he began to rub it with the same ferocity as his thrusts. Another moan escaped from your lips, electricity coursing through your entire body. Your eyes roll back as you feel your release.

Miguel continued to slam his cock deep inside you, causing you to feel your overstimulation coming on.

"Fuck, I love this damn pussy. I love you, y/n."

"I love you to Miguel." You breathed out. From your words Miguel let out groan as he released himself deep inside you, now filled full with his warm seed.

After a few more thrusts Miguel pulled out as he lied right next to you. You turned to face him as one of his arms warped around your waist pulling your sweaty naked body against his. He leaned down and captured his lips before saying, " Thank you for the wonderful Christmas present."

You wake up the next morning to Gabi jumping up on you bed, with a wide and happy smile.

"Wake up! It's Christmas! It's Christmas!"

Luckily after your session with Miguel last night you both cleaned up and got into proper pjs before going to sleep, knowing that Gabi would wake up before the both of you and barge into the room.

"Good Morning princesa. How did you sleep?" Miguel said in his deep and rough morning voice as he smile up at his daughter who was jumping for joy on the bed.

"Great! Santa came! He left a bunch of presents! Can we please open them. Please!"

"Alright, Baby bug. We'll get up." You chuckle as you get out of bed and swoop Gabi off her feet to which she giggled. You set her on the ground right next to you.

"Ok, first let's make coffee for me and Papa and then we will open presents."

After getting coffee you and Miguel sit next to each other on the sofa as you watch Gabi open up her many many many presents.

After she opened all of hers she handed you and Miguel one from under the tree.

Miguel opened his which, was a gift Gabi got for him, with you helping her with the funds to get it.

"Aw princesa I love it. I'll use it all the time." Miguel smiled as he held up a coffee tumblr that read, World's Best Papa and Scientist.

"Your turn Mama!"

You smile as you read the name tag, To the love of my life. From your Miggy. You rip off the wrapping paper to see a gorgeous thin red rectangle velvet box with gold stitching. You open the box, as a gasp leaves your lips. Your eyes lock with Miguel's who smiles lovingly at you.

Before you in the box was a simple but gorgeous Cartier gold chain necklace. In the center dangled three beautiful dark red rubies. Your heart melted as the color reminded you of Miguel's eyes. Even though his were brown, you swore in the light they glistened like beautiful dark rubies. You knew you would never take this off, knowing that a part of him was always with you.

"It's beautiful Miguel. I love it." Tears brim the corner of your eyes as you kiss his cheek before giving him a hug. "Can you help me put it on?"

"Of course, mi amor." Miguel smiled bright, happy you loved his gift. You turned your back as you pull your hair to the side as he put the necklace on you. A tiny chill went up your body as you felt the cold necklace lay against your neck. You trim back around as you looked to Gabi with a smile.

"It's beautiful Mama. You look gorgeous!"

"You look stunning." Miguel says.

You enjoyed the rest of the festive holiday cuddle up next to Miguel on the sofa watching holiday movies with Gabi sitting on the ground distracted with playing with her brand new toys.

You couldn't imagine a more perfect Christmas. A Christmas spent with your new family.

The last few days went by in a breeze. When you Miguel and Gabi weren't staying in the comfort of the warm apartment, you adventure out to the various holiday markets around the city, or gaze at the stunning Christmas decorations.

Today was finally December 31st. You and Miguel decided that with the chaos and drama still being thrown at both at you through text messages and voice mails you decide to have it just be you two and Gabi.

You were in the kitchen making dinner, saying you would be happy to make some classic dishes that you've had with your family.

Arms wrapped around your waist, as a smile graced your lips from a kiss placed to your cheek.

"Everything smells very good, cariño."

"Thank you. Do you want to try some?" You say as you held up a spoon with some of the food. He happily took it and smiled. "That tastes amazing."

"Thank you Miggy."

After dinner was served and happily enjoyed by the O'Hara's you all settled on the sofa as you watch the Nueva York New Years commencement.

You look down to see a sleeping Gabi who was sprawled out on your and Miguel's lap.

"I guess it's time she goes to sleep.She's so adorable." You say quietly as you gently brush back some of her curls.

"She is. I'll take her to bed."

"Ok." You smile as you place a goodnight kiss to the top of Gabi's head before Miguel lifted her up and carried her to bed.

After a few minutes Miguel came back as he sat right next to you on the sofa, wrapping an arm around you to pull you against him.

"Did she wake up?"

"Nope still was out like a light. Nothing can wake her up if she's asleep. Reminds me of a very someone." Miguel looks at you as he chuckled.

"What can I say, I love to sleep." You smile as you rest your head on him as you both continue to watch the tv.

The count down began on the tv as thousands of voices joined together in time square.

10...9...8... 7... 6... 5... 4... 3... 2...1!

Happy New year!

You joined in with the voices on the tv as you were standing, excitement etched throughout your body. Miguel pulled you against his chest, a big smile on his face before dipping you slightly and capturing his lips with yours. You wrapped your arms around his neck as you deepened the kiss. A few seconds later, your lips parted, lips both slightly swollen. As the New Year's music plays on in the background from the TV all you could pay attention to was Miguel.

"Happy New Year, Miggy."

"Happy New Year, mi amor. I can't wait to see what this year has in store for us." He smiles wide, showing his dimples before leaning down and kissing you again.

____________________________________________

Hope you enjoyed it!💕

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call-memissbrightside · 11 months

Text

a continuation of this one-shot

warnings: mentions of cheating, having an affair, bad-words, relationship insecurity, hints of NSFW, (Y/N) cries a lot but honestly I would too lmao

"If you think crying like this will make me want you, you're a fucking idiot."

You instinctively flinch, like Katsuki's words were physically hitting you. He notices your small movement from the corner of his eye, and moves so that his back is facing you to almost save you from the wrath he was unleashing on his ex-wife.

You weren't going to tell him what Ochako said to you. Because you knew it would cause trouble between them when that was the last thing you wanted. When accepting to marry the hero, you decided that no matter what, you wouldn't further cause tension between them. For Katsumi's sake.

Yet, it was Katsumi who told her father. Somehow she stole her mother's phone the moment they returned to Ochako's home across town and called Katsuki, explaining what she saw even if she didn't understand the whole story: mommy yelling at (Y/N) and making her cry.

Katsuki didn't hesitate to immediately coming home when receiving the distressing call from his own daughter, and scared the absolute crap out of you when he seemed to pop out of nowhere and demanded to know what Uraraka said to you.

Seeing his anger made you submit all too easily, and he patiently listened to you tell him what happened through broken sobs and snot pouring from your nose as you tried calming down. Katsuki was upset that you were upset, and had the idea to hug you, comfort you but then his phone rang.

Now he paced the living room, half listening to excuses Uraraka gave him for being unnecessarily cruel to you. You watched him from the plush couch, hiccuping now instead of intensely crying.

"I'm getting the lawyers involved," He barked, cutting off whatever his ex-wife was saying. You shake your head, not wanting to cause more drama but Katsuki holds a hand up to stop you. Leaning more into the couch cushion, you bite on your lip as anxiety digs into you.

"Tell Katsumi I love her and that she's not in trouble for calling me. You better not punish her for doing the right thing. I'll be damned if my daughter gets in trouble for calling her own father, you fucking bitch." He leaves it at that, promptly hanging up the phone before Ochako could have a word in.

Katsuki tosses his phone down onto the coffee table and rubs his face groaning. You watch, silent, not knowing what to do or say.

Noticing your cheeks were still read and how puffy your eyes became from crying, Katsuki cooed softly, "Come here baby, it's okay."

Holding his arms open, you immediately get up to let him hold you. Burying your face into his chest, you inhale his strong, expensive cologne. It works wonders to calm your racing heart.

"Let me see you, " Katsuki whispers, cupping your face gently so that you could look up at him. His red eyes burned like embers and seeing concern in them makes your bottom lip wobble so you bite it to stop from trembling.

"No, no," Katsuki lightly chastises, pulling your bottom lip with his thumb, tracing it lightly over the bite makes you gave yourself.

You still don't know what to say, but a broken, "Sorry."

Katsuki will have none of that, he scoffs and rolls his eyes, "No (Y/N), I'm sorry my ex is a fucking cunt."

You're still sensitive, and hearing him say something that cruel makes you flinch.

"Don't call her that Katsuki, she is still Katsumi's mom." You're careful on correcting him, knowing he doesn't like it when you do that.

Katsuki sighs loudly, you feel him inhale and exhale. Looking back down at his phone, he looks almost annoyed. "She is, huh?"

Turning back to you, Katsuki can't help but admire how you look at him with your full attention, like you can't help but hang onto his every word. When he leans down to kiss you, it starts off slow and sensual. His tongue dominates yours and you completely relax against him, getting lost in his kiss.

"You think all that shit 'chako said was true?" Katsuki mumbles against your lips. Your eyes were closed and they stayed closed, but your eyebrows furrowed at his question. You don't respond.

"You wouldn't have cried that hard if you didn't think it was true."

He knows he's right. You know he's right. But you continue not to say anything, embarrassed to be so quick to lose trust in your husband from one simple conversation. Katsuki looks at how how your face begins to crumble, and is hurt from your hesitance.

"Look at me baby," He demands, and a smile almost graces his face when you listen to him. Fingers that were threaded in the hair by your neck tightened, making your neck snap up.

"None of that shit Ochako said was true." Katsuki looks straight into your eyes and you knew he was telling the truth. A weight that you weren't even aware of seemed to be lifted from your chest, and you almost wanted to begin crying from relief. But you don't, because you knew that would only irritate Katsuki further.

"Do you regret marrying me Katsuki?" You finally ask.

He really didn't have to marry you. You sure weren't expecting him to when the affair was leaked to the press, and after Ochako announced their divorce in a press statement. That was hell for you, when the whole world learned you were sleeping with Japan's #2 hero, who was married and a father. It hurt even worse when people realized you were the babysitter, like you purposely broke up the Bakugou family for your own personal gain. That wasn't true, it just happened and yes, you felt horrible about it but also you and Katsuki were real. No one, absolutely no one, wanted to hear your side of the story. Their minds were made up.

You lost everything from having an affair with Katsuki Bakugou.

Your parents were so disappointed, they cut off all contact with you. You had to drop out of college mid-semester after getting harassed by your peers. Fans of Katsuki would throw things at you when you'd walk through campus. Coffee, paint, condoms. Uravity fans were even worse, calling you all the horrible names in the book: slut, whore, home-wrecker, gold digger. They bullied you online constantly, and you had to take down all your social media pages because it got so bad. And when your phone number got leaked online? You almost went mad with the countless calls and messages from trolls that you broke your phone just to have peace. You were broke because no one wanted to hire you, especially not as a nanny.

You truly thought that Katsuki would end things during that time. He would only call you from a new, secure phone his assistant dropped off at your dorm, hearing you cry about all the things people had done and all the names they called you. It was a while before you got to see him again in-person, due to his publicity team deeming it appropriate to wait it out until the divorce was settled.

You didn't think Katsuki would stick around. You already cried and yearned for him when under the impression that he'd leave you. Sure, the relationship started with just hot sex. But you liked to believe that there were moments when you saw the real Katsuki, the one who was kind and gentle with you, the one you loved. God, after all the shit you endured because of him, you still loved him. That's what made it hard to finally see him, because you convinced yourself he was only asking you out to break things off with you completely.

Yet, when Katsuki went down on one knee and asked you to marry him, you burst into tears and said yes before really thinking about it because you were just glad he loved you and chose you.

It all happened so fast, too fast and you were slowly cracking under the idea that all of this was a mistake.

Katsuki laughs.

He fucking laughs. Whatever vulnerability you felt comfortable sharing with him is locked away in your chest.

"Fuck you!" You yell, pushing at his chest but there's no way you're getting away from him. Not if he didn't want you too.

Katsuki kisses you silly, and only pulls you back when you try to speak up.

"Stupid woman," He whispers against your lips. "I must be a bad husband if I have you thinking I regret ever choosing to be with you."

He's smirking now, thumbs tracing the underlying of your jaw.

"Go to the bedroom and wait for me, and I'll show you just how much you mean to me."

Your body heats up at his words, and he finally lets you go. Katsuki was never much of a talker, but rather liked showing how he felt. You knew you would never get a full explanation from him on what or why he decided to marry you, but you body ignited at how he would explain in the bedroom.

Yelping at the feeling of his hand swat at your behind when you turn to head towards the bedroom, Katsuki laughs out loud again.

Checking his phone as he grabs his hardening cock in his pants, his eyes look over the countless messages and emails notifications to see if any need his attention immediately.

Assistant Hana: when will you be back?

"Katsuki!" You yell from the room.

"Be there in a few, calm down!" He yells back, texting a quick message.

Bakugou: i got important business to deal with at home

A/N: I was going to continue the angst but surprisingly i decided to go with a 'happy' ending. i'll probably make more one shots using this storyline, keep a lookout for them.

#bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugo katuski #bnha bakugou #bakugo katsuki #bakugou x reader angst

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carolperkinsexgirlfriend · 5 months

Text

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 40

Part 1 Part 39

Days pass, and Steve’s painkiller script runs dry. Without the pills, Steve’s every waking moment twinges, but what irks him more is the way his life is passing him by.

He spent almost a week in a painkiller haze of sleep, and now he’s awake and pissed off.

The swimming season is almost over, he’s going to be drowning in schoolwork, and he’s just sitting in the Munson trailer, rotting with Eddie by his side.

Will had gone back to school yesterday, and Steve’s itching to scrabble back into mundanity.

His doctor, Wayne, Eddie, hell even Joyce, all act like it’s too soon, like he’s made of crumpled paper, like he needs handled delicately or he’ll tear.

He’s sick of it. Steve wakes up, too early with the taste of ash in his throat. Eddie’s already awake, curling his fingers around Steve’s forearm and dragging him closer in his small shoebox bed.

“What day is it?” Steve asks.

Eddie squints at the clock, reading the vivid red 4:43 on the clock like it’s a calendar. “Thursday…” he says, voice ragged with sleep, trailing off, clearly unsure.

Steve stares up at the dark ceiling, doesn’t look at the glowing red, and says, “I’m going to school today.”

Eddie squeezes his forearm, says, “Steve,” plaintively.

“I can’t do this Eddie,” Steve whispers. He blinks and he’s there, staring up at the vines writhing on Eddie’s ceiling, the red of Eddie’s alarm clock pouring through the windows. He blinks again, and he’s back, Eddie’s warmth beside him. “I’m going crazy, cooped up in here.”

Eddie sighs, a long, dramatic groan that vibrates Steve’s head where it’s propped up against his chest. “I can’t believe you’re making me go to school, Stevie,” he says, trailing his fingers gently up and down Steve’s shoulder.

“Don’t you miss your friends?” Steve asks, pointedly not thinking of his own.

Eddie’s still rubbing Steve’s shoulder, as he replies, “Yeah. Jeff called a few days ago, and Wayne told him I had the flu.” He sighs. “I just hate lying to them.”

Steve’s relationship with Tommy and Carol is built on a bed of deflection and lies. No, what you said didn’t hurt my feelings. Of course, I want to throw a party and get stuck holding the bag when the cops show up. Yeah, my parents are out of town a lot, you’re right, it’s the best.

But sometimes, when Tommy was just the right level of tipsy, or late at night at one of his sleepovers with Carol, one of them would say something real. Carol would whisper about the diet her Mom was on, how her bones were that of a bird and Carol was so afraid of being whittled down to nothing. How Tommy’s dad had hit his face hard enough to bruise, and then gotten made that he looked like a ruffian the next day.

How Steve’s parents don’t stick around long at all.

Those are the people he misses. The people left rotting in the corners of the ones who roam the halls of Hawkins High. That’s not who he’ll get to see at school today.

“They’d understand,” Steve says. “If they’re your friends, they’d understand.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Eddie says, letting the topic drop.

Wayne grumbles over his mug of coffee when they stumble out of Eddie’s bedroom, both dressed in Eddie’s clothes, but doesn’t say much. They share a quiet breakfast, as Wayne scarfs down his meal before bed, drooping into his plate.

Eddie rifles through the whole trailer until he finally finds the van keys discarded in the bathroom. Wayne sends them off with a gruff, “come home if ya get tired,” as they walk through the door.

Steve doesn’t notice he doesn’t have any of his stuff until Eddie’s already pulling into the parking lot, students glaring and giving a wide berth to his van as it loudly chug chug chugs into a space.

He can’t remember if he had any assignments due, what they were learning, barely even remembers his class schedule. It’s like everything from before has the haze of a dream. Only the nightmare of after is crisp and real.

The whispers as he stumbles out of Eddie’s van, start slow. They grow louder when Eddie rushes to the other side of the van, holding out his arm in an offer of support that Steve snubs.

Eddie walks by his side, leaning into him like he just can’t help himself. “You know,” he whispers conspiratorially. “It’s not too late to pretend I kidnapped you or something.”

Steve snorts, letting his elbow slide into Eddie’s ribs as he takes a step closer, even as the stares fillet his skin right open. “I’d make a terrible captive.”

Eddie laughs. “You really do,” Eddie says, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “Coming here against the doctor’s orders? Naughty naughty!”

Steve jams his elbow into Eddie’s ribs, hard this time, sending him reeling even as he laughs, clutching the abused spot.

No one approaches them, treating the whole spectacle like it’s a television show. Fascinating and untouchable.

But the bubble inevitably bursts. Tommy’s loitering by Carol’s locker, arm slung over her shoulder as she digs through its contents. She laughs, smacking his arm even as she smiles up at him. They look happy. Fine. Normal. Like Steve hasn’t been missed at all.

There’s something dark and slimy slithering up Steve’s throat. He swallows it down.

He keeps walking, Eddie by his side, not looking their way. So, it’s a shock when a small hand grabs his hand and yanks.

“What the hell, Steve?” Carol says, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Where have you been?”

“Nevermind that, what happened to your hair?” Tommy asks, laughing. Like Steve being missing is a joke. Like everything always is, with him.

“Just felt like a change,” Steve says, smiling sarcastically at them before trying to continue on his way.

Carol’s hand tangled in his sleeve stops him. He looks down at it. Her fingernails are turning white under her pretty pink nail polish. He sighs, stops, Eddie stopping beside him.

“I was in the hospital,” he says, meeting Carol’s eyes, pretending Tommy isn’t there at all. “Thanks for visiting by the way.”

She takes a startled step back, stretching Steve’s borrowed sweatshirt out with the way her fingers are still hanging onto it. As if she can sense people staring, she steps forward, holds her ground as she glares up at him, hissing, “we didn’t know!” she stamps her foot, loud with her clunky heels. “We went to your house, and no one answered!”

“And you didn’t think that was weird?” Steve demands. “You didn’t think, huh, maybe we should look for Steve? You couldn’t even pretend to give a shit?”

“Steve, I—” Carol starts, before Tommy interrupts her.

“So, what?” he demands, posturing into Steve’s space before Eddie throws out an arm, pushing him back. “You got your feelings hurt and you decide to start slumming it with the trailer trash?”

That dark thing slithers back up Steve’s throat. He pours it out at Tommy’s feet. “Anyone’s an upgrade compared to you,” he spits. “Poor little Tommy, has to make everything a joke so no one will notice there’s nothing underneath.”

“Steve!” Carol gasps.

“Oh, like you’re any better!” he says, something vicious and snarling crawling out of him. “Act like a bitch so no one gets any closer.”

“And what does that make you?” she demands.

“Steve,” Eddie says, pulling him back. “Let’s go.”

Steve looks at the two people who were his best friends and feels nothing. “You’re right,” he says, turning around and not looking back. “They’re not worth it.”

“Whatever,” Tommy shouts. “Just go off and fuck your new boyfriend, see if I care!”

People in the hallway are staring. Steve feels their eyes like fingernails down his face. Eddie takes a step away from him but doesn’t leave his side.

“Are you okay?” Eddie asks.

Steve nods, afraid he’ll spit up rage like bile if he opens his mouth. Eddie doesn’t leave him alone until he’s at the threshold of English class.

“I’m in shop,” he says, eyeing Steve critically. “Get me if you need me, okay?”

Steve nods.

“Promise me,” Eddie says, crossing his arms and staring Steve down. They both ignore the furtive look other students give them as they slip past to get into the classroom.

Steve chokes out, “I promise,” maintaining eye contact with Eddie until he finally turns and leaves with a strained sigh.

Once he’s out of sight, Steve runs on shaky legs, shoving through the nearest bathroom door and dropping painfully to the tile as he leans over the open lid of the toilet, stomach heaving.

It’s not rage that crawls out. Something small, and slimy, and black slithers out of his throat and into the bowl.

Steve flushes the bowl, washes his mouth out and goes back to class just before the bell.

Part 41

Taglist: @deany-baby @estrellami-1 @altocumulustranslucidus @evillittleguy @carlprocastinator1000 @1-8oo-wtfbro @hallucinatedjosten @goodolefashionedloverboi @newtstabber @lunabyrd @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @manda-panda-monium @disrespectedgoatman @finntheehumaneater @ive-been-bamboozled @harringrieve @grimmfitzz @is-emily-real @dontstealmycake @angeldreamsoffanfic @a-couchpotato @5ammi90 @mac-attack19 @genderless-spoon @kas-eddie-munson @louismeds @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @pansexuality-activated @ellietheasexylibrarian @nebulainajar

#steddie upsidedown au #steddie fic #eddie munson #steve harrington #my fic

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bobbin-buckley · 17 days

Text

Broken Glass

Cairo x SoccerPlayer!Fem!Reader

Summary: Your troublemaker girlfriend breaks up with you

Warnings: Break up, mentions of lung cancer

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

Cairo was always difficult to deal with. Always exploding over the small things you say that come out as a insult to her, or the bold assumptions she makes. Cairo was a girl who never cared about anyone other than herself, but in this case she cared for you..

Today was her girlfriends ball party, you are Cairo’s girlfriend. You held this party because of your congrats on winning your soccer game. And ball dances happened to be your favorite, so you held one.

She was currently dancing with you slowly, it was a slow dance..her hands around your neck as you kept your hand placement on her waist. She was wearing a white gown, that hugged her hips nice..

She seemed quiet and relaxed as she danced with you, but really her mind was running a hundred miles per hour. Her hands left your neck, pulling away before speaking.

“Can we step outside? I need to talk to you.” She said, looking pretty tense now.

The big smile you had on your face was now gone, but nodded to follow her anyways. She takes your hand and brings you out the garden terrace. She turns to you, letting go of your hand and leaning against the railing. Her brown hair shinning in the moonlight.

“Can I ask you something?” Cairo was looking at you, tears brimming in the corners of her eyes. “Yeah, always.” You replied with, leaning against the rail with her.

She glanced down at her heels for a moment, gathering herself for what she was going to say. She seemed really nervous, she isn’t good about expressing her feelings, so she gets straight to the point.

“…do you really love me? Do I mean..anything to you?” Cairo asks, her voice broke a bit.

You furred your eyebrows, caught off guard by the question a bit..but it didn’t really surprise you. She seemed to always ask questions like these when she felt insecure, which you always replied with the same certain response. “Of course I do. Cairo you’re my girlfriend, I love you.”

“You do?” Her voice trembles. She seems confused, which confused you. It’s like she’s digesting the response. Her own love life has been so complex.. she still doesn’t even fully understand herself, but she wants to believe what you’ve said.

“Are you sure?” You notice the tears in her eyes swell up more, she’s holding back tears. “Yes of course I am,” you respond. “What’s going on my love?”

“I-it’s..” Cairo’s having a hard time finding the words, as she’s on the verge of a breakdown. She glanced around the terrace, looking at the small water fountain in the middle..seeing the moonlights reflection in it.

She held a hand up to her mouth to cover up sobs. “My…my mom…” she squeaks out. You tilt your head a bit, “what about your mom?”

“She has lung cancer..” your eyes widen at her words. She breaks, tears streaming down her face. She hadn’t told anyone..or muster up the courage to say something about the situation..maybe only her close friends…but how come not you?

“A-and I’ve been so distracted because of it. I haven’t been able to focus on anything, my grades are going down..” she couldn’t finish her sentence..her breathing becoming harsh..sobbing a lot.

“Hey..hey shhh..” you wrapped your arms around her small form, trying to comprehend the situation. “I’m so sorry baby..”

Cairo leans her head on your chest, letting out some more sobs. She’s been a loss of support..but of your presence there she’s slightly relieved. Less weight on her shoulders when you embrace her.

“I-i didn’t know how to tell you..” she whispers through a few more cries. “Hey..shhh, it’s okay.” You rub her back.

Cairo takes a deep breath as her sobs subside a bit. She pulls away from your embrace, which only increases your worries. She clears her throat, “thank you.”

You nod, happy to calm her down a bit..but not convinced enough she’s done. “Always. I’m glad you told me though..how is she right now?” You weren’t close with Cairo’s parents, I mean they were pretty much gone all the time since they’re lawyers ..but hearing that her mother had lung cancer, was shocking.

You rubbed her cheek and she smiles a bit at the gesture, relieved to tell you about the situation, albeit with a lot of difficulty. “She isn’t doing very well..” she took a deep breath, finding it hard to keep her tears at bay.

“I’m sorry, you don’t have to continue..it’s okay..”

She had something else to say, and you knew it. But you aren’t prepared. “But, there’s something else.”

There it is

“What is it love?” Now were you worried.

Now she doesn’t want to say it, but she’s already put herself in the situation. She knows if she says never-mind you’ll keep asking her. But despite her shyness, she speaks again.

“I..I don’t think I can be your girlfriend anymore..”

Your eyes widen, feeling your heart drop in your stomach. “Wh-what?”

Cairo nods her head slowly as she looks down. She seems scared to have said those words, apprehensive to your next response. Her voice trembles as she speaks again, “I..I don’t think I’m cut out for a relationship right now..”

Those words hit you like a bus. You can’t believe the situation right now, even at Cairo’s confession. You both have been together for five months now, things were going fine…you loved each other. But now she wanted to end things now? At your celebration? You get the fact her mom has lung cancer, but it isn’t like she’s dead….yet.

“It’s- its because of your mom..? Isn’t it.” You finally spoke up. “Yeah..” she confirms, her throat is dry. More tears flow, sobs continuing. She turns away from you, afraid to look at you.

“O-okay..” you step back, voice trembling too. As your own tears flood down.

“Please, I don’t want you to think it’s your fault.” She turns around to face you again, she scans your hurt face. She knows she messed up, your posture and facial expressions says it all. She’s aware of your sensitivity, she knows how you blame yourself when she is upset.

“N-no it’s fine..I mean yeah- I get it.” You let out a shaky breath, your own thoughts forming.

Maybe she hates you, she doesn’t love you, you aren’t good enough, it’s all your fault, you messed up

“You do?” She looks up at you in shock. Cairo wasn’t expecting such an easy response, she assumed maybe you’d have questions. But she also didn’t want to push the issue further, honestly, she wanted to agree what she was saying. Because outside of her family issues, she’s having a hard time understanding her feelings for you, and to her this was the only way to deal with the situation. Push you away like you’ve never met before, breaking your heart and her own.

You shrug, “I don’t..know what else to say.” Cairo shakes her head, she didn’t expect you to say much. But she did expect a response of begging for her to not leave you..

“I’m sorry,” “it’s not your fault.” You quickly respond.

More weight lifted off her shoulders, but not enough. “You aren’t..gonna convince me to stay?” She was still shocked, wondering why you wouldn’t beg for her back…beg desperately for mercy.

“No..” boy do you wish you hadn’t responded like that, but you were hurt and shocked still. More than likely stuck like that forever if she doesn’t fix the situation.

Cairo’s eyes widen, lips parted. “R-really? You aren’t even gonna…try?”

“I’ve done this before,” “you have?”

You have indeed. Your last break up happened similar, they said you weren’t good enough..made up an excuse to break up and you tried begging for them back. But they didn’t give you any reason and without word, left you.

“Yes, my first relationship. The break up ended the same way, and I tried begging for them back…but they left without a word.”

She blinks, guilt rising up in her. She should’ve known this had happened to you, and why did she not know? She doesn’t know.

“I-I’m sorry.” “Stop saying sorry…”

Because you aren’t, is what you wanted to end the sentence with.

Cairo frowns. She didn’t even realize she was responding with a ‘sorry’ every time she spoke. She sighs, “I’m just..I feel awful about this, I should’ve handled things better.”

“It’s fine. If you think without me is better…it’s fine.”

It isn’t fine

She’s hurt, hurt you aren’t trying for her back. She’s sighs and shakes her head,

“you’re too …..good for me.” “That’s what everybody says.”

Cairo seems even more surprised at your response. She didn't know that people had told you that, but she feels like it's true and it stings her a little. She clears her throat. "I- really?" she asks in a shaky voice.

You nod. Cairo nods, as she looks down again. The truth is that she thinks it's true, too. She knows she's not ready for a relationship, especially with someone like you. It was better for her to let you go, especially if she thinks you… can do better. She sighs as she feels the guilt of her decision rise up again.

“Well, they aren’t wrong.”

Well ouch.

“Ouch.”

Cairo freezes, as she looks straight back at you, her eyes full of tears. That... yeah, that hurt you. That response didn't help her with her guilt at all. She feels like the ground opens up under her feet at the unexpected words.

“Ouch?”she asks.

You sighed, not wanting to explain why it hurt. “Just go.”

Cairo is taken aback by how harsh you are, and her face quickly turns into a frown. She feels like the wind has been knocked out of her, and her breath catches in her throat.

Just... just go? She can't believe this... after all this time they spent together, this is all it took for her to say that so harshly...Even if she was pushing you away first, she doesn’t feel wanted anymore.

“If you think you’re better without me, then just go.” You didn’t want to push her away, but you were.

“Who said I’m better without you?” “You did! You said you’d be better without being in a relationship..and that we weren’t cut out,”

You cried, defending yourself. She grits her teeth, “and…and you took that as I think I’m better without you?”

“Then what?” You crossed your arms, fed up.

Cairo sighs deeply as she looks away. She doesn't know what to say. She doesn't want to make her think that was what she meant. But she feels angry and hurt by her reaction to her words.

“…I said I think I am not ready to be with someone, I never said that I think I can do better without you...”

You sigh. “Then what do you want?”

She doesn’t think before she says, “maybe I would be better without you!”

You shake your head, crying more than before. “Just go..go.”

Cairo swallows deeply as she sees the harshness in her face. She sighs, as she looks down, finally accepting that there is no point in staying. There was no point in fighting back.

“…right.” she says after a few moments, and takes a deep breath. She turns around, starting to take steps away from you, her chest feeling heavy as she does so.

It started raining after, and you watched her leave the garden terrace. Leave you.

Now, all there was..is broken glass

Your fragile heart, shattered

~~~~~~~~~~~

Oops

Y’all want a part two?

And I’m working on a continuation of ‘Lonely in her Mansion’ I just suck at smut so bare with me 😭

#jenna ortega #cairo sweet #jenna ortega x fem!reader #cairo sweet x reader #millers girl

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lyjen · 3 months

Text

Duty calls

Summary: A sergeant and Evan keep on running in to each other but their conversation always gets cut off.

A/N: English is not my first language so don’t hate on me lmfao. Also just thought this was a cute story ish. Enjoy!

Part 2

Part 3

…………………………………………………………………………….

Just as (Y/n) steps out of the door with her usual coffee order, a car smashed into the side of an other car. The collision happened right in front of her eyes. She immediately drops her coffee to the ground, and she runs on to the scene. “Dispatch this is 442-L23, I need an RA unit on the corner of West 9th street and south olive street. I have a two car collision.” (Y/n) speaks into her walkie.

(Y/n) gets to the car of the person who crashed into the other car. The window of the car was opened when it crashed. “Sir are you okay?” The man stares forward, and after a few seconds he turns towards (Y/n). The man was clearly in shock. “Are you in any pain?” She asks while she quickly inspects the man. The man shakes his head as a sign for “no”. But if the man was really in shock, then he wouldn’t be able to feel the pain. “Sir I need you to sit still, and stay where you are. The fire department is on their way, they will assist you getting out of the car.”

Due to the crash, the door of the drivers side got an impact which made the door unable to open without heavy equipment. She pointed to a bystander, watching from the sidewalk. “You. Come here, and keep this man talking.” she needed to get to the other victim in the other car, but needed the driver to stay conscious. And the best way to do that, was keep him talking. The man fastened towards the car and nodded as an answer to her order she gave him. While the man kept standing at the window with the driver.

Y/n hurries to the second car, which was in much badder shape. (Y/n) saw that the driver of the second car was a young woman. Due to the impact of the crash a large piece of glass had gotten itself free of the window and landed in the neck of the woman.

“Ma’am are you alright?” (Y/n) asks while she tries to get to the window of the woman. The woman touches her neck. “I have to get to my mom” she says, starting to panic. “Ma’am do not tou-“ before (Y/n) could finish her sentence, the woman pulled out the large piece of glass and a wave of blood came out of the wound. The woman screamed out an ear deafening scream.

“Shit, shit, shit!!” (Y/n) hurried to the passenger door, opens it and gets in the car next to the woman. While getting in the car, she feels a few pieces of glass lightly scraping her hand. But she didn’t care, all she cared about was helping the woman who was basically bleeding to death in front of her.

She puts her knee as support on the passenger seat, “okay ma’am I’m not gonna lie. This is gonna hurt like hell.” And with that said she pushes both of her hands on the wound to try and stop the bleeding, the woman screams out but gets used to the amount of pressure (Y/n) put on the wound.

“What’s your name?” (Y/n) asked, trying to take slow breaths to keep herself calm. (Y/n) knew she had to keep the woman conscious, so she asked the most simple question she could think of. “Liv” the woman the woman spoke softly between the sobs. “Okay Liv, my name is (Y/n), help is on the way. You’re gonna be okay. Just keep breathing.” She tried to calm the young woman down. Tears kept streaming down the woman’s face. “So you were on your way to see your mom?” she asked. Liv tried to nod, “We were supposed to go shopping.” She says through her sobs.

In the distance (Y/n) could hear the fire truck sirens and ambulance. Just trying to keep Liv conscious, (Y/n) asked “where were you planning on going shopping?” “We were going to the mall, shopping for some decorations for my dorm room.” She told her, gasping for breaths. (Y/n) also noticed the woman had trouble with keeping her eyes open.

(Y/n) was so focused on the woman, that she didn’t noticed the LAFD were already on scene. One of the firefighters got in the back of the car, so they could give Liv the help they needed. (Y/n) kept pressure on the wound like she did from the first second.

“Woman around 20 years old, name is Liv. A piece of glass from the window broke off and got stuck in her neck. And I think because of the shock, she pulled it out. It started bleeding like crazy.” (Y/n) spoke to the firefighter in the backseat. “Sounds like the glass hit her artery. How long have you been putting pressure on the wound?” The female firefighter asked while she went through the medic bag beside her. “About like three minutes I guess.” (Y/n) answered.

“Ma’am I’m Hen, I’m with the LAFD.” She said to Liv, the victim who was still conscious but could go out any second. Liv hummed a small okay. “Here’s what we’re going to do. Keep pressure on the wound, on the count of three you let go, and I will take over from you. Then you get out of the car and one of my colleagues will assist me further.” Hen said. (Y/n) nodded. “One.. two.. three..” (Y/n) let go of the wound and not even after a half a second Hen’s hands were putting pressure on the wound. (Y/n) got out of the car as fast as possible. She wouldn’t want to be the one to hold them up doing their job. As (Y/n) stepped aside, an other firefighter took (Y/n)’s position in front of the car while they worked on Liv.

(Y/n) walked a few meters away from the car. Leaning her back against the wall, to come to her senses. She sighed, and took a few deep breaths. “Hey, are you okay?” A voice asked. She looked to her left to see a firefighter walking towards her. Slowly. She nodded, “Yeah, I’m fine… just a little bit of blood.” (Y/n) said softly. Her trembling hands were covered in blood from the woman, with a few other cuts she didn’t noticed before. That must have happened when she entered the car in such a hurry. “Can I take a look at that?” He asked carefully, while he pointed at her hands. (Y/n)’s face was doubtful, she wanted to say no, because there are people out there who might need the care more than she did herself. That was typically (Y/n), always putting other’s needs first. “I’m specialised at scratches.” He continued, trying to convince her. She sighed, and nodded.

The firefighter put the medic bag he had hung over his shoulder on the ground. He started to get some gauze out and a bottle with a little spray head. As he stood up, he smiled at her and he started carefully to clean the wounds on her hand. “I don’t know how I didn’t noticed I’ve cut my own damn’ hand.” (Y/n)’s voice speaks, while she hissed at the staining feeling she got while the firefighter was cleaning the wound. He grinned, “There was so much going on… you were alone, in the moment and full of adrenaline. Of course it can happen that something slipped your mind.“ The guy says with a worried look spread on his face. (Y/n) was looking at the scene, the other firefighters of the team were trying to get Liv free. “But right now, all that matters is that you’ve saved that woman’s life with these two hands.” He continued, while pointing at Liv, the girl who was finally getting pulled out of the car. (Y/n) smiled slightly at his comment, and stayed silent.

“You know, i don’t think we’ve ever met before.” He says after a few moments of silence. He looked at (Y/n) with a small smile, trying to wrap up the hand with the few cuts. (Y/n) didn’t know what to say, “No… I don’t think so…” she says, unsure what to say. “I’m Evan, but people call me Buck.” he says to her with a reassuring smile, while he finished wrapping up her hand. “(Y/n)”.

“Buck come on let’s go!” A voice roared over the scene. “That’s my cue to leave.” The firefighter says, while he closes the medic bag. “Well.. Evan… thank you for the pep talk. And this.” (Y/n)’s voice speaks while motioning with her hands. A smile spreads across Buck’s face while he swings the medic bag over his shoulder. “Please, call me Buck. And no problem, us first responders should be there for each other.. right?” Evan says.

“Buck! Let’s go!” An impatient voice yelled now, while the horn of the fire truck sounded through the streets. Probably to get Evan’s attention. “Coming!” He yelled back slightly irritated. He turned his head back to (Y/n). “I’m sorry. Duty calls.” He says. And he jogged towards the fire truck, while halfway he turns towards (Y/n) so he was basically jogging backwards. “It’s was nice to meet you sergeant” He yelled, trying to get above the sounds of the LA streets. She wanted to say that it was nice to meet him too. But before she could do that, he was already climbing into the rig. All she could do was smile, and get back to her work.

…………………………………………………………………………….

A few days later, (Y/n) stepped through the doors of the hospital to go to the emergency room. There was a robber who got shot in the chest by a store owner. She was here to make up a police report and to make sure the man didn’t make a run for it.

As she walks towards the desk where one of the nurses was sitting down. She greeted the nurse and told her for who she was coming for. The nurse nodded and told her to wait for a few moments, she had to check with someone else of the status from that patient.

As (Y/n) waited and watched a few people walk in and out of the emergency room. As she hears the sliding doors of the ER open again, with lots of people walking through it. She turns her head, and sees a few paramedics and firefighters enter through the doors. A loud voice filled the room with the voice of a man “Unknown male, around 50 years old, BP is…-“ the words, along with the medical terms the paramedic was calling out seem to fade. When her eyes meet his.

He smiles and walks towards (Y/n), while he for a second looks at the ground and back at her. His face was covered in ashes. He has his florescent jacket in his right hand. “Wasn’t expecting to see you here.” were the first words to leave Evan’s mouth. She laughs, while fidgeting with her fingers. “I’m only here to write a report.” is the only thing she can seem to bring out with words. A small laugh left Evan’s lips.

He pointed at her hands, “How are your hands?” He asked, trying to change the subject. It was a weird question to ask, especially if people didn’t knew the context of it.

She smiled and put her hands up, so she could show him. “Like you said, you are specialised in scratches.” He smiled. “Oh they look great!” He says as he grabbed one of her hands and pulled it a little closer so he could get a good look. (Y/n) was a little surprised by the touch of the firefighter.

“And how was your call?” She asks him this time. He wasn’t at the hospital by coincidence. He was here for a reason, because a few moments earlier they wheeled a patient in.

He took his eyes of (Y/n)’s hand. But kept his hand cupped underneath hers, with her palm up. “Just a house fire” he smiled at her, like it was nothing new. While his other hand fingers wandered over the scratches of her hand. And she just nodded. Unsure what to answer to that.

“Ma’am?” The nurse called her. “The gun shot wound patient is in bay 14” she continued as (Y/n) looked at her. She nodded “Thank you”.

“Well, duty calls.” (Y/n) spoke, as she was slowly backing up entering the ER. But still facing Evan. “Guess we’re even now! Last time it was me, now it’s you.”

All she could do was smile and roll her eyes.

“See you later?” Was the only thing he said with an hopeful smile.

“Yeah, see you later.” (Y/n) gave him a small smile, and turned around. And walked away.

Evan felt his smile grow wider and a spark of warmth go through his body.

A hand landed on his shoulder, as he turned his face to the right he could see Eddie smiling and shaking his head.

“What?” Evan spoke, stating that he didn’t do anything.

…………………………………………………………………………….

Sitting on a chair at the bar, (Y/n) leaned with her right elbow on the bar. Fidgeting with the empty glass in her hands.

After a day on the job, you always need a place where you can come to yourself. She was here all alone. Because that’s what she needed. But she wouldn’t want to be alone at home. It was hard to explain.

She can see in the corner of her eye, that someone took place on her right side. “You couldn’t stay away from me, couldn’t you?” A familiar voice asked.

Still fidgeting with the glass in her hand on the bar, she smiled and feels her cheeks flushing. “Technically, you’re the one who keeps coming to me.” (Y/n) says, while her eyes remained on the glass she was touching.

“I was the first in that collision scene, and the first at the hospital when you wheeled that patient in. And I also think that you were the one who came sitting next to me just a second ago.” She continued. She smiled as she looked to her right. Evan held his hands up in defence. “Okay you got me there sergeant” he says. And he smiled. While he looked her in the eyes. Those beautiful sparkling eyes.

“But why are you in a firefighter bar then?” He smirked. Yeah. How was she going to explain that.

Her eyes drew the attention of a man who was closely walking past people and reaching out next to them. The guy was stealing money. “What the fuck” she whispered. Evan’s face got to a confused look. (Y/n) got up from her chair. “Hold that thought” (Y/n) said and she walked towards the guy.

Just as the guy tries to put out his hand and to steal from another person, (Y/n)’s hand touches the man’s shoulder. “You’re under arrest.” Is the only thing she says. The man reaches his arm out to hit her, but she ducked. She locks the man’s arm, put it behind his back and pushes him down on the table with all her strength.

A crowd starts to form around her, while she puts the man in handcuffs. She sees Evan staring in disbelief. She gave Evan a glance.

“Duty calls” she said.

Why is it always that, when they have a conversation duty calls.

#evanbuckley #eddiediaz #911 fox #buck x reader #evan buckley x reader #imagine #911 imagine #evan buckley imagine #buck imagine #911

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asumofwords · 9 months

Text

The Sublet - Roommate!AU

Warnings: She/her pronouns, slow burn, angst. Tags will be added as the fic goes along. Smut, dirty talk, spanking, finger fucking, no protection (wrap it before you tap it babies), smut, creampie, Aemond being a douchebag.

Pairings: Modern!Aemond x Reader, Modern!Cregan x Reader

Summary: Living with Helaena Targaryen was one of the best decisions you had ever made. Meeting at university, the two of you became thick as thieves and quickly best friends, moving into a flat together. But what will happen when Helaena has to leave, and her quiet, brooding, brother moves in?

Notes: Bit of a longer chapter than usual here, hehe. You should know me by now, I hate cutting them up, so I hope this feeds you well. Cregan Stark my beloved, take me now ;)

Chapter 4: Bunny

By the time you had gotten through four episodes of Dance Moms, you heard keys in the front door. Sitting up, you turned your head towards the entrance, listening as Aemond dropped his keys into the bowl beside yours and made his way down the hall.

His towering frame entered the lounge room, silver hair pulled away from his face in a low bun. Turning to the sound of the television, Aemond lifted his eye towards you, giving you a short and curt nod in greeting.

“Hey.” You greeted back, watching him disappear into his room. You listened as the door shut behind him with a click.

What was his deal?

Was he always this rude? Or just cripplingly shy?

But to you, he didn’t seem shy, and now that you thought of it, Helaena had only described him as such when he moved in. Never once before.

Helaena had a great read on people, and he was her brother, they grew up together and were relatively close. Helaena had described her middle brother as many things. Loyal, headstrong, stubborn, but shy just did not seem to fit the ticket, even if she had told you as such.

It made you think that maybe it would be better to have Aegon as a roommate after all.

At least he would talk to you.

The more you thought about it, the more it intrigued you.

What did he do during the day? Did he work? Did he live off of his parents money? He said he had been studying, but he wasn’t anymore. Aemond truly was a mystery to you, and the less you knew about him, the more you wanted to know.

Putting your dishes in the sink, you decided to go and talk to the man you would be living with for the next month. And he very well could indulge you. He was under your roof, in your space. It was the least he could do.

Reaching Helaena’s door, you looked at the small stickers on the wood, rethinking your actions for one moment before you charged forward, knocking. It wasn’t an urgent knock, or aggressive. It was lazy, and casual, and you had hoped that it conveyed the reason why you were there.

Rustling came from behind the door as you shifted on your feet, waiting as the seconds ticked by, until finally the handle twisted, and Aemond appeared.

You blinked.

He was shirtless.

Aemond looked down at you silently, waiting for you to reveal the reason for your intrusion. And yet as you stood there, looking at the man in front of you, his toned chest and arms on display, small scars littering some of his skin, you felt all the words in your throat shrivel and dry up.

Aemond dipped his head, eyebrows twitching as he looked at you in something you could only describe as slight annoyance, and perhaps amusement. Taking a steeling breath, and trying to keep your eyes above his chest.

“Hey, have you eaten?” It was the first thing that popped into your head.

Aemond’s eye flicked up and then down your body, and if you hadn’t been concentrating so hard on keeping your gaze on his face, you wouldn’t have noticed it.

You felt heat rise in your cheeks.

“Mm.” He nodded.

His gaze held yours, and tension bloomed around you, “Um, do you want to watch a movie or something?”

Aemond’s lips pursed forward slightly, before he straightened himself, one arm still holding onto the side of the door, “What are you watching?”

“Dance Moms, but we can watch something else if you want?”

Why did you feel so small all of a sudden?

Silence curled around you as you waited for Aemond’s response.

Then came the rejection.

“I think I’m going to just go to bed.”

Your stomach twisted.

Stepping back away from he door, you gave him a crooked smile and bobbed your head, “No problem. Night.” Spinning on your heel, you walked back down the hall, cheeks hot from embarrassment and a pinprick of spite.

You didn’t turn back to hear him say goodnight, but you could feel his gaze on you as you moved back to the lounge room.

The next few days went by with Aemond barely speaking to you. And although he was somewhat polite, his allusiveness to even try and get to know you was wearing down on your patience.

Whats more, was despite his obvious refusal to want to spend time with you, and engage in more than the occasional bout of small talk, you could not escape awkwardly bumping into each other in the house, and a weird energy stretching around the you both. It felt like you were walking on thin ice, one misstep and you were going to fall into the depths below. And it made you angry.

Why were you the one to feel awkward in your own home?

And on top of all this, Larys had been on your ass more than usual. Constantly hovering over your desk, sending passive aggressive emails, nitpicking your grammar or style in work, to which you would send emails of a similar type back. If you had to write another ‘per my last email’ one more time, you think you would scream.

The thing that annoyed you the most however?

Was how alluring Aemond was.

There was no denying that he was attractive, his sharp features adding to his mysterious, and allusive energy. And you thought that was what attracted you the most. The man was entirely a mystery to you, and he knew it.

It was clear he was aware he was getting under your skin in some type of way, because he had begun to smirk and hum to your prodding more often than not.

It was driving you insane.

You were doing your best, or the best that you could, to make Helaena’s brother feel welcome. To make him feel comfortable in your home, but the man had not a shred of decency to do the same.

So after a long week of tiptoeing around the enigma that had moved into the room opposite you, and the slog of work and leering eyes of Larys Strong, you sat on the train on a Friday evening and sent off a text to Cregan.

Aemond had been in the house long enough, and you needed to let off some steam.

You smiled at your phone as you got off the train, walking home from work.

Cregan really was a stress reliever for you, and a bloody good one too. Reliable and always on time, you knew that he would be at your door as the clock struck 6, which meant you had about an hour to shower and get yourself ready.

When you arrived home, you didn’t bother to call out in greeting as you were so used to doing with Helaena, instead silently toeing your shoes off at the door and dumping your keys in the bowl beside the other pair.

Aemond was home.

You walked down the hall, and as you turned you saw Aemond stretched out on the couch, phone in hand, with only a shirt and a pair of black nike shorts on. The Targaryen lifted his head and looked at you, almost as though he was waiting for you to speak, but all you gave him was a curt smile as you moved down the hall, hanging your bag on a hook behind your door, before heading straight for the shower.

You washed and exfoliated yourself, letting the hot water beat against your sore shoulders and back before getting out to apply some light make up. After you had moisturised and gotten yourself ready, you wrapped your towel around your body, checking your phone.

5:30.

Plenty of time.

Aemond’s head lifted to your body in the towel as you moved to your room, and you felt his heated gaze on the back of your neck, prickling like static. You got inside and shut the door, fishing out a matching pair of lingerie and some cute clothes to throw on. You quickly tidied your room, and before you knew it, you were ready with twenty minutes to spare.

You walked to the kitchen, hoping to fix up a little plate of snacks for the two of you, Aemond still where he was on the couch. You felt his eye on your the entire time as you fished out a plate and began to put some cheeses and meats on it, giggling to yourself as you remembered Helaena calling it ‘Girl Dinner’.

“I’ve already eaten.” Came Aemond’s voice from behind.

You frowned, turning slowly to look at him.

Smug.

Asshole.

“It’s not for you.” You responded, almost shocked at the audacity that this man had. He was really beginning to get under your skin. You turned back around, silently scoffing to yourself as you moved to grab a glass of water.

You had gotten half way through the glass when a knock at the door alerted you to Cregan’s arrival. A smile wound on your lips as you grabbed the plate, quickly dumping it on the dining room table before you went to the front door.

Cregan grinned at you, bottle of wine in his hand.

Your heart fluttered in your chest and you rose on your tiptoes to press a quick kiss to his lips, “Hey.”

“Hi.” He breathed back, voice deep.

Cregan stepped into the apartment, slightly ducking under the frame as you led him down the hallway he had been through plenty of times before.

As he walked behind you, you could smell him. He smelt safe, he smelt warm. A musky scent that had subtle hints of citrus.

When you entered the lounge room, Aemond was no longer lounging on the couch, instead he was sitting stiffly atop the pillows, head turned towards you. As Cregan finally emerged from the halls, the two men exchanged what you could declare, the most uncomfortable of greetings.

Cregan, being the warm man that he was, smiled at Aemond and offered his name, moving across the room the shake the violet eye’d mans hand. But Aemond made no move to grasp his, and instead looked at it for a beat as he stood, before finally grasping it and offering his name quietly.

“You’re Helaena’s brother, yeah?” Cregan attempted to diffuse the tension, and Ameond only gave a noncommittal hum back.

Sensing the awkwardness, you grabbed Cregan’s hand and dragged him to the kitchen, “Lets get some glasses, yea? What did you bring this time?” You could feel Aemond’s eye on your back.

Cregan gave small amused scoff, holding back his true thoughts, “Spiced wine from Dorne.” His deep grey eyes looked down at you, small smirk winding on his cheeks.

“My favourite!” You chirped, pulling down two glasses for the both of you, before you took him back to the dining table behind the couch, trying to keep your eyes ahead of you instead of meeting the icy one of Aemond’s.

It was ironic really.

Cregan was from the North, but had one of the warmest personalities you had ever met.

Aemond came from a background of legends of fire and dragons, and yet he was icier than snow.

Cregan and you sat at the table for some time, nibbling on your snack plate and drinking the wine as you caught up on the weeks that had gone past without seeing each other. It was friendly and kind, and you felt the weeks tension slowly bleed out of you as you were able to have a normal, actual conversation with someone.

Before long, you were feeling warm from the wine, or perhaps it was the way that Cregan kept devouring you with his eyes. Aemond still sat stiff backed at the couch, not having moved once, a stark difference to him usually hiding in his room.

Cregan’s eyes roamed down your body as he pushed his tongue into his cheek. You rested your chin in your palm and lowered your voice, “I could have sworn there was some sort of lingering threat between the two of us.”

The Starks teeth were revealed as his smirk pulled higher on his face. Your breath caught in your throat.

Gods he was handsome.

“I think there was.” His voice was low and deep, rumbling from his chest.

Aemond would have to strain his ears above the telly to be able to hear the two of you, and so you felt safe having the conversation behind him, “I told you what would happen, bunny.”

Your thighs rubbed together beneath the table.

Grinning at the brunette in front of you wolfishly, you leant forward, giving him an ample view of your breasts from the top of your shirt, “Hm, I could just make you sit here with me all night.” You purred.

Cregan’s gaze darkened, head tilting as he looked at your through his lashes, “You think I won’t throw you over my knee right here?”

Your mouth dropped open, “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

The way Cregan was looking at you in that moment meant one thing.

He was deathly serious.

Standing abruptly, you grabbed the bottle of wine and your glass, balancing your phone between two fingers and motioned for him to follow you to your room. Your skin prickled as you all but sprinted into your bedroom, placing the wine down on your side table as you waited for the hulking figure to follow you in.

As soon as he entered, he placed his wine beside yours, towering over you.

Your heart raced as you looked up at him, a knowing grin spreading across your face. Every inch of your body was set alight as he continued to look down at you, piercing eyes boring a hole into your head.

“Get on the bed, bunny.” He commanded, voice lowering to almost a whisper.

Anticipation worked its way through your bones as you could not help the excitement that continued to burst through your veins, and yet still, you could not help but be bratty, knowing that you were playing with fire.

“Why?” You looked up at him, cocking your head, biting your lips to stop you from smiling.

Cregan sighed, “Get on the bed, or I’ll do it for you.”

Your tongue peeked out of your lips as you wet them, “What are you going to do to me?”

Your world tilted as Cregan hoisted you up in his arms, loud giggle flying from your lips as he stalked towards the bed, before throwing you unceremoniously onto it, your body bouncing atop the mattress.

Cregan smirked, looking down at you as he grabbed your ankles and ripped you to the end of the bed, air squeaking from your lungs, “Such a tease.” He grunted as he parted your legs, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you looked down at him.

Cregan knelt at the foot of the bed, hands grazing up your thighs and under your skirt until they reached the edges of your panties. His fingers skimmed over the black lace, eyes peering up at you hungrily.

“Naughty girl. Who’s this for?”

You squirmed at his touch, “No-one.”

“Really?” His large, callused fingers dragged the lace down your legs, swooping them over your knees before tossing them somewhere else in the room, long forgotten as his hands skimmed back up your inner thighs, pausing right before where you needed him most.

Heat pooled in your gut as you wriggled, trying to get him to touch you.

“Please.” You whispered, pouting down at him.

“Please what, bunny?”

“Please touch me.”

Cregan pressed a short kiss to your knee, causing you to jerk at the warmth, "But you don’t deserve that do you?”

You whined loudly, thrusting your hips up into his hands, “Please Cregan, I’ll be good.”

The man laughed sincerely, “When are you ever been good for me?”

You smirked at him, trying to grab his hands and pull them up, but he didn’t budge. You huffed and flopped back down onto the mattress as the Northerner stood, looking down at you smugly.

“Strip.”

With quick hands, you ripped off your top and skirt, leaving you in only the small, black, lacy bra. Your hands moved to take that off to, but Cregan stopped you, “Uh uh. Keep that on.” He turned around, grabbing his phone and turning on your speaker, still fully dressed, shoes on, and you bare to him on your bed.

You shifted in anticipation.

He turned the music up, you thought a common curtesy for the man who may still be seated on the lounge not too far away, as he stalked towards you, looking down at the way your thighs rubbed together, trying to ease the ache between them.

“Look at you, bunny. So desperate.”

You nodded your head, hand skimming down your body to touch yourself.

“No.” His voice purred, all playfulness gone, “Come here.” A large finger pointed down to where he stood at the end of the bed.

You wriggled down slowly, keeping your eyes on his as you moved to stand, head craned up to look at him. His finger traced under your chin softly as he looked at you, “You going to be good for me?”

You nodded, leaning your face into his hand, as you reached out to touch him. He let your hands graze over his chest and up to his shoulders, rising on your tip toes to place a kiss at the crux of his jaw. Cregan hummed, large palm spreading across your lower back to press you against him. He shifted his head, bringing his lips to your ear.

“Don’t think you can get out of being a brat.”

With swift hands, Cregan spun you around and pushed you over the bed, your chest and stomach plush to the mattress whilst your legs dangled off the edge.

A small cry slipped past your lips as you landed face first, air pushing out of your lungs. His hand smoothed over your lower back, and you turned your head to look at him.

Cregan was looking between your thighs, no doubt finding your slick centre.

“Look at you, so wet already?”

You whined in response, arching your back, the music drowning out the sounds in the room. His other hand began to rub soothing circles against the swell of your ass, and you clenched in anticipation of what was to come next.

The hand lifted, snapping down onto your flesh with a crack.

You squeaked, heat blooming in your cheek as Cregan cooed you from behind, “Good girl,” He purred, “You’re going to give me ten of these, okay?”

You nodded your head, burying your face into your arms as he lifted his palm again, swatting down on the stinging flesh. The slap rippled through you, and your cry was muffled by the mattress.

You thighs rubbed together as Cregan brought down his hand, again and again.

By the time he got to seven, your flesh was burning, and you flinched as he brought his hand up to strike you again. You could feel the wetness between your thighs as he tutted, “Come on bun, only three more. Do you think you can be good and take three more?”

You nodded, eyes feeling teary as you squirmed beneath him, hand soothing against the hot flesh of your bum before removing it to strike down again. The hit caused your core to flutter round nothing and you moaned loudly, rolling your back.

“Good girl, only two more. You’re doing so good for me.”

You keened at the praise and sucked in a breath, feeling his hand come down again.

“Such a good bunny for me. One more, baby.”

Cregan's hand came down a final time with a crack. It filled room, your cry climbing in the space as the song had ended and another had softly begun.

Your face was flushed as he cooed you, praising you for how well you had done, your thighs feeling slick as you rutted against the bed in an attempt to soothe the throbbing.

Lips met your shoulder blade and spine, small moans falling from your lips as Cregan moved down your body, “Good girl. Such a good girl for me.”

“Mm, Yes.” You whined pitifully, spreading your thighs as his hand trailed over your soft, hot skin before diving between your folds.

“Fuck,” Cregan growled, “You’re soaked. You’re not supposed to enjoy your punishment, bunny.” He chastised you, fingers parting your folds as he moved over your clit, your body jerking beneath him.

“Ah, I d-“ Your words caught in your throat, a rasping breath falling form your lips as you felt two of his large fingers push their way inside of you.

The stretch was delicious, and your back arched as the pressed against your walls.

“Shh.” He dragged his hand back out, before pushing them back in, giving you time to adjust, each stroke of his fingers curling down to rub over the soft spongey patch inside of you.

You groaned, head turned to the side as you wriggled beneath him, his hand starting a slow pace as he stretched you open.

“Look how wet you are for me, soaking my hand like such a good girl.”

You hummed in agreement, feeling his thumb begin to swirl around your clit as he continued to drag his fingers in and out of you, increasing his pace.

Cregan began to fuck his fingers in and out of you, the sound of your slick barely drowned out by the music as you whined beneath him.

“S’good. Fuck.” You moaned, hearing him chuckle, the speed increasing.

You could feel the coil inside of you begin to wind tightly, his hands slowly tipping you over the edge.

Your breath held in your chest as he fucked you with his fingers, your orgasm rapidly approaching.

“Fuck, fuck, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna-“

Cregan pulled his hands from within and you whined, your release immediately halting. You heard his deep chuckle behind you as you arched your back, chasing his fingers, “Hnng- No. Please Cregan.” You whined.

His fingers moved mack, slowly pushing inside as he began to rub around your clit, and soon the pleasure that had been building began to climb again, your breathing ragged as you chased your climax.

But as soon as you almost got to the top, core clenched around his digits, Cregan would pull his hand from you. Ripping your orgasm away.

You sobbed against the sheets, one hand winding down beneath you to reach your clit.

A sharp pain bloomed through your core as Cregan slapped at your cunt. You hissed.

“No touching. This is your punishment for being a brat. You wanna be bratty with me, I'm going to treat you like a brat. And brats don’t get rewards.”

Tears welled in your eyes, all too desperate to get your release, “Please, Cregan, Please. I'll be good. Please, I just-“

“Shhh. Be good and take it then.”

His digits found their way back to your core, sliding in again, this time adding a third finger, the stretch causing you to whine loudly, wriggling backwards against his hand as he stretched you apart.

“Good girl. See? You can be good, can’t you?”

You nodded your head dumbly, feeling like you were beginning to float away.

“You be good for me, and I'll let you cum, okay?”

“I'll be good. I'll be good.” You babbled, nodding your head, pushing back down onto his fingers, feeling full with them inside.

Cregan began to drag them in and out again, his thumb rubbing wet and sloppy circles around your clit as he fucked faster into you, your wetness coating your inner thighs and his hands, no doubt soaking the bed beneath you.

The coil inside of you was ready to break, pleasure mounting and mounting, breath caught in your throat.

“I can feel you squeezing me, are you going to cum?”

You nodded your head, not trusting your voice as he sped up his hand, fingers drilling inside of you, the sloppy sound of your cunt making Cregan groan loudly behind you, watching the way his fingers disappeared inside of your folds.

“Come on then, cum for me.”

His fingers pressed down on the spongey spot inside, as his thumb pressed on your clit.

The coil snapped as you came hard on his fingers.

Eyes scrunched shut, you cried out loudly, writhing on the bed. Your limbs tingled with pleasure as you rode out your orgasm on his hand, the man behind you cooing you through it, and praising you.

“Doing so good, good girl. There you are, so beautiful. You’re so beautiful when you cum. Such a pretty pussy.”

“Fu-ck.” You croaked, his hand finally stilling inside of you.

Your core clenched around him as you came down from your high. You felt weightless, but heavy all at once, limbs like stone as you kept your eyes shut, basking in the glow of your orgasm.

Rustling came from behind you and the sound of a belt buckle being pulled open.

“Let me take care of you.” A kiss pressed against your shoulder and you sighed, turning your head to kiss him. His lips moved against yours gently as you felt the buckle of his pants press against the hot skin of your cheeks. It was soothing in a way and you pushed back against him.

“Gonna fuck you, okay?”

You hummed in approval, lifting your hips as you felt Cregan line himself up with your folds.

With one smooth thrust, he entered you, your slick guiding him in as he pressed up into your walls.

“Fuck.” He grit out, feeling you clench down on him.

You whined, the stretch of him causing your already sensitive pussy to throb. But your limbs were too heavy, and so you laid beneath him, eyes closed as you panted.

Cregan began to fuck into you slowly at first, giving you time to adjust to him, but before long, he was thrusting into your wet heat with vigour, your bed and body jolting with each snap of his hips. Airless gasps were pushed from your lips as his length bullied your sweet spot inside.

The coil that had been battered before, began to wind again, and you reached a hand back to grab the arm that he had planted beside you.

“You gonna cum again?” He breathed, the slapping of flesh filling the room.

You nodded sluggishly, “Uh huh. Please.”

“Good girl.” Cregan dipped his head to press a kiss at the crown of your head, in a soothing and sweet manner, a complete contradiction to he way he was rutting into you.

He sped up his movements, his tip jabbing into the end of your cervix meanly as you cried out, soothed by his shushing and praise.

“Doing so good for me, almost there.”

Two large hands grabbed your hips and pulled you further down the bed, using them to guide you up and down his shaft, fucking into you sloppily as he began to lose himself to pleasure and chase his own peak.

The change in angle deepened his thrusts, and your body seized, cry breaking free as you came again around his cock.

“Good girl, such a good girl for me. Fuck.”

Cregan’s thrusts became erratic, the pace faltering.

He came with a cry, collapsing on top of you, careful to not put all his weight on your lungs as his cum coated your walls. You breathed heavily, eyelids heavy as he slowly pushed into you through his climax, small moans whispered into your hair.

“Fuck.”

You giggled sluggishly, pushing your hips back against him. Cregan hissed, pulling back and out of you, watching as his cum spilled from your folds and down your thighs.

“Stay there.” He kissed your shoulder.

You had no plans to move anywhere anyway, your body feeling like jelly and the sweet hum of your orgasm moving through your limbs. The door opened and closed, and a short while later, Cregan was back in the room with a warm, wet cloth.

He cleaned between your thighs gently, before scooping you up the bed to your pillows, tucking you beneath the blankets as he stripped himself down and curled in behind you, wrapping his large arms around you.

“You okay?” He whispered into your hair.

You hummed happily, snuggling into his side.

“You’ll need to get up and go to the bathroom soon.” He reminded you, and you whined.

He chuckled, holding you to him tightly.

Cregan stayed the night, and you had brushed your teeth together in the bathroom sluggishly, him with the black toothbrush he had left in your apartment once months ago.

The next morning when you woke up, you found that Cregan was already out of bed. Both Aemond and the Stark seeming to be early risers like yourself.

You stretched your limbs before crawling out of bed, bare feet sliding across the floor boards to the kitchen.

Cregan stood in the small kitchen, hulking everything around him. It always made you laugh how big he was, how imposing he could be, but really? He was a big softy.

The Stark was bent over the kettle as he waited for the water to boil. You came up from behind him, pinching his bum cheekily. Cregan jerked with a cry, spinning around with an appalled look upon his face. You both stared at each other for a beat of silence, just the sounds of the kettle coming to boil in the background, before you both fell into a fit of giggles.

Despite the two of you sleeping together for months, Cregan still didn’t quite know how you liked your tea, and so you moved him out of the way to prepare your own, whilst he made himself a mug of instant coffee, stirring the sand like grains in the hot water until they dissolved.

You spoke sleepily to one another for a while, leant against the kitchen counters as the sun shone into the kitchen with a soft glow.

The sound of a door opening and closing swiftly made you turn your head, and soon Aemond was walking down the hall, earphones in, and eye ahead on the front door.

“Morning.” You chirped.

Silence.

Aemond did not turn his head to acknowledge you. Nor did he hum, or grumble a good morning. Nor did he even spare you a goddamn glance. He simply kept on, grabbing his keys from the bowl, the front door opening, and then shutting firmly behind him.

“What a dick.” Cregan grumbled.

You sighed loudly, head dropping backwards as you looked at the ceiling.

“You know,” Cregan began, looking at you with something akin to pity, “You can always come stay with me and the boys if you want.”

Giving the Northerner a small smile, you touched his arm gently, “Thanks, but we would kill each other.”

Cregan Stark chuckled warmly, “I suppose we would.”

“Besides,” You started, “I’m not about to let a man chase me out of my own house.”

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its-time-to-write · 8 months

Note

Hi!! I hope you’re doing well and that you had a wonderful weekend:) My request (if you can) is short and sweet: the first time meeting Jamie’s mum! Maybe a heart to heart between the two women (you loved him first and because of that it is my honor to love him for the rest of my life typa deal) IDK anyway have fun with it and thank you!!!

Done! I love Georgie so much. Like, she gives off total mom vibes in the way where she seems like she’d try to be the sunlight in everyone’s day, you know?

there is happiness

You’re not taking a bus to fucking Manchester. Shit, you’ll take the train or a cab or maybe even walk before you get on a bus for upward of four hours with the Richmond Greyhounds.

So why are you packing things into a duffel bag to do just that? It probably has something to do with the man sitting on the floor, debating which pants to pack.

“Do you think I should take the Calvins?” he asks, pretending not to notice the murderous glare you shoot at him.

“Don’t know why it matters,” you reply carelessly. “No one’s going to be seeing them anyway.”

Jamie gets up and slides his arms around you from behind, pressing a kiss to the crook of your neck.

“Aw, don’t be so hard yourself babe,” he says. “You’re not no one.”

“You know what I mean,” you say, hugging his arms closer. “I’ll have you know I am very, very upset at you.”

You can feel his smirk against your neck. “Right, yeah, if upset is a new aneurism.”

“Euphemism,” you correct. “Wait. Shit. Or is it aneurism? Hey Siri, what’s the difference between a euphemism and an aneurism?”

Siri responds from your phone.

You say, “Ah yes, an aneurism is what I’m going to have on that fucking bus ride on the way to meet your mum for the first time.”

Jamie flops backward onto the pile of clothes on the bed. “Babe, I don’t know why you’re so stressed out. It’s just my mum. She don’t bite.”

“Ok, sure. Yeah. I’ll calm down if you tell me exactly how many people you’ve brought home to meet her since making it to the Premier League. Actually, you know what? I’ll make it easier for you. You can even include platonic relationships.”

Jamie’s silent.

“E-fucking-xactly. It’s just been Roy and Keeley. I wasn’t even this stressed when I met Ted because he likes everyone, but this is your mum. What if she hates me? It’s scary.”

“It’s not scary,” Jamie laughs. “She’s gonna love you.” You’re standing in between his legs now and he pulls you on top of him. “You’ll be fine, love, I promise.”

—

The bus ride was as expected. Smelly, loud, and filled with laughter. The team is still getting in the swing of things without Ted, but they seem to be picking up where he left off.

You’re not really tired, especially since it’s mid-morning, but you’re pressed against Jamie’s side and he’s warm as always, so you find yourself drifting off.

—

The boys check into their hotel. You’re not staying with Jamie because the boys have all sorts of team-building things going on and Jamie’s mum insisted that she needs girl time.

You squeeze Jamie’s hand the entire way over to his mum and Simon’s place and he doesn’t even make any jokes about it, just squeezes back.

Your heart rate shoots up a million times when Jamie knocks, then slows down about 10% when Georgie swings open the door and grabs you in a hug, barely giving Jamie any notice.

“What the fuck?” he asks, amused. “Hey Simon, how’re you doing?"

“Oh lord, I told myself I wasn’t going to cry,” says Georgie, wiping away a tear. “Never thought he’d come home with a real, actual girl.”

Jamie makes an offended noise. “The fuck do you call all the girls I’ve been with?”

Georgie swats his arm playfully. “You know what I mean, love. None of them were built to last. Only one I sort of liked was that Keeley Jones, but I was never quite convinced you were right for her. But this one- well, must be the first girl you’ve brought home since primary school.”

“Come inside, come inside,” says Simon. “No sense standing in the doorway with the food getting cold.”

He ushers everyone inside and to the couches, and Georgie is latched onto Jamie’s arm now. He’s chattering away about the upcoming match and Roy as the manager, leaving you to take in your surroundings. There are photo prints on the walls and soft lighting and a table with photos of Jamie at every age.

You smile at him as a baby, same giggly face as ever.

It’s a nice evening. Simon’s made dinner and Georgie can’t stop beaming or ruffling Jamie’s hair. You’re the only other person on the planet allowed to touch his hair without warning.

He has to leave all too soon (“It’s a pillow fight, babe, and Sam’s fucking asking to get decked in the face,”) so you kiss him goodbye then head inside. It’s just Jamie’s family minus Jamie, and you have no idea how it’s going to go. Is this the moment Georgie tells you she actually hates you and you need to leave her baby boy alone?

No. What happens instead is she takes your arm and leads you up the stairs to Jamie’s old room.

“Hasn’t changed since he left,” she beams. “Now come on, let’s chat just us girls! I feel like I already know you, what with the way Jamie talks about you all the time. Hardly a word out of his mouth that isn’t about you or footie.”

You grin. “He’s a man of singular tastes, that’s for sure.”

Georgie laughs. “Oh, I bet you’re good for him! Don’t let his head get too big, that’s for sure. My wee sexy baby always did need someone to take him down a few pegs here and there. But don’t let him fool you. He’s fragile as the next person, that one.”

You smile and say, “You two are so similar. He calls himself a ‘sexy baby,’ or a ‘wee sexy lad,’ all the time. And he can’t fool me. I know exactly who he is.”

Georgie’s eyes twinkle as she squeezes your hand. Not quite as strong as Jamie, but still the same type of grip. “Oh I’m sure of that, darling. I’m glad he’s got you all the way out there in Richmond. He’s been alone for a good while.”

You’re well aware of Jamie’s history since leaving Manchester.

“You know, Keeley’s actually the one who kind of kickstarted all of this,” you say. “We’ve been friends for ages, and she- well, she sort of helped Jamie become a better version of himself.”

Georgie laughs. “Oh, you don’t have to sugarcoat it for me, love. I raised that lad, remember.”

“Ok, fine,” you say smiling, “She broke up with him because he was a massive prick, which started this whole redemption arc and she kind of forced us together at this event and, well, you know the rest. I just feel really, really lucky to be with him. Like if I were anywhere else at any other time, we could have missed each other. I could have missed him so easily.”

You shake your head. It’s hard to imagine a life without Jamie, and you wonder where you’d be at this exact moment if things had gone differently. What would be happening if you’d fought Keeley just a little more?

It doesn’t matter because Georgie’s squeezing your arm and saying, “But you’re here, darling. And it’s so wonderful that you two found each other, because I haven’t seen my baby smile like that in ages. I’ve got no worries about either of you.”

She pulls you into a hug, and it’s all you can do to keep from tearing up.

God, who knew Jamie’s family would be so quick to accept you?

—

It’s late now, but you’re positive Keeley is still awake so you open your phone to send her a message.

You could have warned me, you text.

Three bubbles appear, then: what do you mean babe?

You roll your eyes. Fucker. You know exactly what I’m talking about. Your crazy football knockers are staring at me while I’m trying to sleep.

Keeley instantly responds with three angel emojis. I’m watching over you like a fucking guardian angel!

There’s a pause, then she texts, don’t know what Roy is. maybe the devil.

You snort at that. Roy Kent? Grump with a heart of gold? You don’t think so.

You close your text thread with Keeley and open the one with Jamie.

Nice football sheets, you write. Maybe we should get some for our room.

Jamie responds way too fast with an Amazon link and and an x. You smile then flip your phone over on the nightstand so you can get some good sleep, with Jamie’s guardian angels staring down at you.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt x y/n #ted lasso

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auteurdelabre · 3 days

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A LITTLE SUN PART 7 (part II) Dieter Bravo x f!Reader

rating: 18+

tags: SMUT. Penetration, Oral (m and f receiving), use of 'daddy' (but you ain't into it), use of 'baby', Dieter being Dieter, fluff, like such tooth-rotting sweetness its almost gross, idiots in love, pregnancy, talk of pregnancy body changes/self esteem, love love love, family issues, mentions of parental death.

a/n: Tumblr is dumb and won't let me post the entire chapter in one post. ARGH. So below is part two.

HERE IS PART ONE OF THIS CHAPTER.

series masterlist

Your mother is pacing around the kitchen when the doorbell rings. With a muttered grumble she strides to the front door, tugging it open with a flourish. She expects to see her pregnant daughter there, what she doesn’t expect is a six foot movie star she hates to be flinching at her.

He’s wearing a short sleeved linen shirt, freshly pressed slacks and his usually unruly hair has been combed neatly. He even got Magda to trim his beard for him. He wants to make a good impression.

"Hi," Dieter says, his stomach churning anxiously as your mother stares him down. "I'm Dieter-"

"I know exactly who you are," the woman snaps, arms crossing over her front. "What do you want? I’m afraid I don't have any more daughters for you to buy babies from."

She tries to look around his broad shoulders. "Where is my daughter by the way?"

Dieter shuffles back and forth, his expensive dress shoes scraping the ground. Suddenly all his bravado has left him and he feels much like a chastised child.

"I wanted to talk to you," Dieter explains. "Just you and me if that’s okay?"

Your mother's brows knit angrily. "So she couldn't even be bothered-"

"She doesn't know I'm here," Dieter interjects.

He goes to say something more when he thinks he notices a car slowing down up the block. Paparazzi. Your mother notices as well because she ushers Dieter into the house, closing the door behind him sharply.

"You have five minutes."

Dieter slips off his shoes and follows her to the couch, about to launch into his speech when he sniffs the air.

"Are you baking?"

"Cinnamon bread. My daughters favorite," your mother says, eyes misting. She regards Dieter a moment, softening. "Would you like a piece?"

"I'd love one."

He takes a seat on the couch as ordered, watching as your mother brings out a tray holding several slices of cinnamon bread, a tea pot and two mugs.

“This is so fuc- darn delicious,” Dieter corrects himself, wiping the crumbs from his fingers on his pants, much to your mother’s dismay. “I love it.”

Your mother offers a small grunt by way of reply, watching him eat and taking small sips of her tea. Dieter notices you both hold your cups the same way, forefinger and pinky slightly out. It makes him long for you, wishing you were here with him as he attempts this conversation.

But you can’t be, he knows you’re too stubborn for it. Judging by how your mother is looking at him now, it’s a familial trait.

“I wanted to come over and try to explain things.”

“There’s nothing to explain,” your mother snaps, her teacup placed on the coffee table. “You and my daughter made a baby, she’s selling it to you and she never told me.”

"I'm sorry it was a secret for so long,” Dieter says. “It's just because of my notoriety that we had to keep it under wraps.”

“From the world, I understand, but from her own mother?” She shakes her head. “Do you know how hurtful that is? To find out your only child is pregnant because of the tabloids? To think you’re going to be a grandmother and then find out she’s selling the baby off?”

“She signed an NDA," Dieter explains with a wince, knowing how awful it sounds. "I'm so sorry. She hated to do it. It was my fault."

"And your mother?" Your mom huffs. "I bet she knew she was going to be a grandma before the tabloids di-"

She breaks off, irritated when she sees the hollow look in Dieters eyes.

"My uh, my mom isn't alive," Dieter says, fingers tapping anxiously at his side. "She died when I was in my twenties."

"Your father?"

Dieter shakes his head, wincing. Your fierce mother immediately softens her tone, her shoulders lowering.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“You shouldn’t be sorry to me about anything,” Dieter says in a soft rasp. “I’m the one who you should be mad at. Not your daughter.”

Your mother wraps her arms around herself. "How is she?"

"Hurt. She misses you."

"Must not miss me much. She's made no attempt to call."

"She's worried about what you'll say. Your opinion matters so much to her, you know that. Especially with her dad gone."

Your mother swallows. "They were so similar. So stubborn and..."

Suddenly the dam behind the woman's eyes breaks and Dieter watches her face crumple.

"I just wish he was here," she says, shoulders shaking. Dieter feels his own eyes filling with tears, his heart aching in tandem. He can't help but reach out and cover her hand with his.

"I’m so sorry."

"If he was here he would know exactly what to say," your mother continues, allowing his hand to remain over hers. "Michael could always get through to her when I couldn't."

“My mom knew me in a way my dad never did,” Dieter offers after a moment. “Knew exactly the right thing to say at the right time. It’s hard not having that. But you still have time with your daughter. Time that’s wasting with you two being mad at each other.”

Your mother blinks up at Dieter, a slow understanding reflected in her swimming eyes. As if she’s seeing him properly for the first time. He continues on, encouraged that it’s been over five minutes and she hasn’t kicked him out yet.

“And I know you think this whole thing with the baby is a spontaneous decision and that I’m massively immature and yeah, I can be. But you need to know that when your daughter told me she was pregnant it was the best day of my life," Dieter says, his voice thick with emotion.

He takes a moment, swallowing and blinking furiously. His hand tightens around your mothers’.

“But I’m not that guy anymore. I’ve changed. She’s changed me, my son has changed me. I’m not perfect, but I also don’t think there’s anyone in the world that will love your da—grandson more than me.”

Your mother blinks rapidly, her weathered face softening further. “My grandson?”

“If you want him to be,” Dieter explains, suddenly unsure. “If your daughter is okay with it. I don’t have any parents in my life. It would be nice for him to have a grandmother.”

Any lingering distaste your mother may have held for Dieter is wiped away in that moment. The sincerity in his wide dark eyes and the nervous way he twists the rings on his fingers endears her further.

“And I know you’re upset with her about all of this but I promise I’ll take care of her for the rest of her life,” Dieter finishes, his eyes glassy. “Even if she’s in Sacramento doing school. Even if she never wants to see me or our son. I want to make her happy and that means taking care of you too. The house is paid for; your daughter will be taken care of.”

Your mother’s hands move from under Dieter’s to over, clasping his wide hands tightly. She has a gentle smile on her face now, the anger gone from her voice.

“I thank you Dieter. That is a kindness that touches my heart. Knowing I can remain in the same house I raised my family in means more to me than you realize. But it wasn’t your place to do it.”

“I know.”

“I can’t accept it.”

“Please,” Dieter begs with his big brown eyes so round and sorrowful your mother has to blink back a new onslaught of tears. “She’s giving me the world. The rest of your mortgage is nothing in comparison to that.”

Your mother can’t help but laugh out loud at the earnestness in his expression. He grins crookedly as she laughs, wiping tears from her lash line. He waits until she sobers, shaking her head with a small smile on her face.

“Alright, I accept it. But only if you’ll let me cook you dinner every once in a while.”

“And cinnamon bread?”

“And cinnamon bread,” your mother says laughing again. “As for taking care of my daughter? That is something you’ll have to take up with her. But be warned she’s even more stubborn than me.”

“Don’t I know it,” Dieter grins shyly, causing the two of them to chuckle between themselves softly.

“I’ll call her,” your mother says resolutely. “I need to apologize and tell her she can move back home if she wants.”

Dieter immediately stiffens. He hadn’t thought about this part.

"Actually if its okay I want her to stay with me until the baby is born," Dieter explains, curls falling into his eyes, his mannerisms anxious. "I like having my son nearby."

"And perhaps having my daughter nearby too?" Your mother peers into his face with a small curl of her lips. “You care for her. More than a boss for an employee. Or a father for a surrogate.”

Dieter looks overcome for the moment, his dark eyes on the floor. He doesn’t know how to respond.

“That’s between you two,” your mother acknowledges. “It’s not my place to say anything.”

Before Dieter can say anything in reply he hears the sound of a frantic key turning in the lock and the front door is thrust open.

The two of them whip their heads in the direction of the front door to see you stumbling into the house, slamming the door behind you. Your hair is wild, your face flushed and you look extremely pissed off. You look at the two of them on the couch and your brows knit.

“What the fuck is going on here?”

"How did-"

"Magda," you answer before Dieter can finish the question. "Why the fuck are you here at my house with my mom?"

You watch as your mom rises from the couch next to Dieter. Her eyes are wet and when she gazes at your very full stomach she gives a soft little gasp.

"Honey-"

"Don't honey me," you snap, feeling angry tears welling in your eyes as you glare over at Dieter. "Let's go, Dieter."

"Baby, wait-" Dieter starts, pausing only when you whip back around to fix him with a leveling glare.

He looks so sorrowful standing there between you and your equally broken-looking mother that you find yourself relenting. You have an idea on why he’s here and even if it wasn’t his place you can’t deny that it was kind of him to try.

"Go wait in the kitchen, please."

Dieter opens his mouth to suggest something else but the glint to your eyes has him slamming it shut and nodding. You wait until he's shuffled into the next room before looking back at your mother.

"Baby?" Your mom ventures gently.

"He calls everyone that," you lie.

She nods slowly but you know she doesn't believe you. Your mother also knows you well enough that she doesn’t attempt to sway you.

"Here, come take a seat," she offers motioning to the couch. "Your ankles must be swollen."

You lift a surprised brow but you waddle over to her, settling into the seat with an exhale. You look at Dieter’s leftover cinnamon bread crumbs and frown. How long was he here for? You look back to your mother, shocked at her gentle countenance. You’d expected anger or frustration, instead you see only regret.

"How did you know about the ankles?"

"I was the same when I was pregnant with you," she says coming to sit on the other end of the couch. "I carried high like you as well."

"Really?" You absently drape your fingers over the curve of your stomach.

"Oh yes," your mother smiles, eyeing your bump.

As you sit there discussing this with shy smiles you wish that this pregnancy was normal. That you had a husband and excited family that threw you a baby shower for a child you'd be able to bring home and care for at the end of it all.

You wish your mom felt comfortable to place her hands on your stomach and to care for this little boy you carry. But she’s holding back her emotions, not wanting to get attached.

After several moments your mom shuffles closer to you on the couch, her hand coming to cup not your stomach, but your cheek.

“I’m sorry,” your mom says, and you’re shocked at the tears pooling in her eyes. “I never wanted… I just… I acted shamefully.”

“I don’t understand why,” you explain, chin wobbling. “We’ve always had a great relationship. Or I thought we did.”

“I thought we did too,” your Mom acknowledges. “But considering you kept this a secret I think I might have done something wrong along the way. You never should have been afraid to come to me with this.”

You don’t know how to answer that.

“You won’t understand until you’re a -” you mom catches herself. “A parent provides for their children, not the other way around. I felt ashamed that you felt you needed to take care of me.”

For a moment you look at her not as your mother, but as a woman. A tired woman who sacrificed so much to see you taken care of and your heart cracks.

“I like taking care of you Mom,” you explain, swallowing the tears there. “I love you. You’re all I have left. Fighting with you these past few weeks has been awful.”

“I know honey,” your mom says and now she pulls you into her arms, rocking you as if you were still that child who ran to her with a scraped knee or boy troubles. “I’m so sorry, please forgive me.”

“Of course I do,” you say, burying your face in her shoulder as you let the tears flow. For the first time since your father died the two of you cry together, arms wrapped around one another, your son nestled between the two of you. Finally sniffling you pull back, wiping at your eyes.

“Were you mean to Dieter?”

“Tried to be,” your mother replies with a grin. “Impossible to be though. He’s very sweet.”

“He’s been amazing through this whole thing,” you answer honestly, feeling the need to sing his praises to the woman who usually derides him. “He’s been the most supportive, caring version of himself I’ve ever seen. Sober, sweet and I love being around him.”

Your mother’s eyes search yours intensely, so much that you blink wondering what she’s looking for. Her gaze breaks when a shy Dieter knocks on the wall separating the two rooms.

“Uh, is it okay if I come in?”

Your mother laughs. “We’ll come to you. My daughter needs some cinnamon bread.”

The two of you stand, your mom helping you before letting her hand fall briefly to your swollen belly. You watch her face beaming as she does before her eyes go to yours.

“My baby having a baby,” she murmurs.

The two of you enter into the kitchen hand in hand. Dieter is standing by the sink, his hair even more wild than usual. He was obviously running his hands through it anxiously.

Dieter approaches you both slowly, as if he’s concerned one of you will be furious. When he sees the easy smile in both of your faces and your clasped hands he feels the tightness in his chest release.

“Thank you, Dieter,” you tell him gently as he approaches. He doesn’t push it, doesn’t ask you to elaborate. He just nods his head, smiling and coming to stand next to you. Your mother releases your hand, coming to stand in front of you both.

“Now you can retire,” Dieter offers with a hopeful look in your mother’s direction.

“No,” your mom says shortly, drawing both sets of eyes her way. You feel yourself deflate, closing your eyes for a steadying moment. You can’t stand the cruelty she’s still holding in her heart for Dieter after everything.

“Mom-“

“No, I like my job,” your mother tells Dieter, ignoring you. She comes to stand in front of him, having to look up due to her short stature. “I enjoy it. So I won’t retire. But I will work less and try to enjoy more of my life.”

You both break into easy grins.

“Yes ma’am.”

Your mother’s smile dims a fraction as she gazes between the two of you.

“Dieter has offered me a chance to be the baby’s grandmother,” your mother says quietly. “But that will be your decision my love. I won’t do anything that you’re uncomfortable with.”

You swallow. “Do you want to be his grandmother? Even if I’m not in the picture? Even if we have no legal right?”

“I would,” your mother replies without hesitation. You turn your head to face the taller man to your left.

“And you’re really okay with it, Dieter?”

“More than okay.”

Dieter’s eyes are on the ground, suddenly overwhelmed with emotions. He wishes his own mother was here, wishes she could have met you. He knows that she would have loved you.

“Then I’m okay with it,” you murmur.

He’s so grateful that his baby will have a grandmother. Even if you want nothing to do with him he’ll forever have this tie to you.

Your mother glances over at Dieter before stepping towards him.

"Let me see your face," your mother demands cupping Dieter's stubbled cheeks in her hands and forcing his eyes to hers. A few quiet minutes pass, their eyes in silent communion before you see both sets watering.

You watch in shock as your mother leans forward and in an act so naturally maternal kisses Dieter's forehead gently.

"You're a good man," she tells him gently. "A good man who acts silly sometimes."

When tears slip down Dieter’s cheeks you feel your jaw drop. Your mother pulls him into a tight hug, rocking him as they stand, murmuring something into his wild hair. You breathe unsteadily when his own arms go to wrap around her waist, clinging to her. He looks like a lost boy finding harbor in the embrace of his mother, his shoulders shaking gently as she soothes him in her arms.

She looks over at you, smiling gently. She tugs you over into her arms as well and before long the three of you are embracing standing in the middle of your mom's messy kitchen.

"Will you two stay for dinner?" Your mother asks eyes hopeful when the three of you break apart, all sets of eyes glassy.

"That would be so great," Dieter says excitedly before you can answer, rubbing at his wet eyes. He wants to take advantage of being in your home. He wants to see where you grew up, where you exist when you're not with him.

"You're Chilean right?"

"Part, yeah."

"Right, I'm going to pop out to the market," your mom says with a wide grin as she picks up her car keys. "I'll be back in a flash."

Your mother is gone excitedly out the door before you can even process what’s happening. That you’re having dinner with your boss and your mom and your unborn child. It’s all a bit much. And yet the thought warms you.

“So do I get a tour?”

“Sure,” you say grinning. Without thought you take his hand, guiding him through the hall pointing out the rooms, giving small synopsis like “this is where I was standing when my first boyfriend called and broke up with me” and “this is where I fell in the tub and cracked my tooth”

“And you know my bedroom,” you tell him with a smirk. “Very acquainted with the closet, I believe.”

He grins before taking his time looking around your room. Last time he’d been in a rush, but today he looks at everything. He sees the framed photo of you on horseback, the science ribbons for first and second place. He notices a trophy for high school tennis. He grins at the poster of Cillian Murphy behind your door. He sees the Polaroid’s of you and your friends stuck to your mirror.

“You never mention your friends,” Dieter observes pointing at the photo. “How come?”

“I never see them,” you shrug coming over to peer at them. “They all got married, had kids. I was in school and then I was working and we kind of just lost touch.”

“Do you miss them?”

“Honestly? Sometimes. But school and my career just always seemed more important.”

“You don’t think you could have both? A career and a family?”

“Not really,” you shake your head. “Can’t have it all.”

“Why not?”

“I dunno,” you shrug again. “Something has to give.”

“Only if you have a shit partner,” Dieter offers.

Before you can say anything more he’s gone to your bookshelf, looking at the tomes that reside there and muttering their titles under his breath. You watch him just existing in this room, before your reason for rushing over here affronts you.

“Did you pay off my Mom’s mortgage?”

“Yeah,” Dieter replies after a beat, twisting to face you. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

You stare at Dieter as he says this, the passion in his voice overwhelming you. Since when was this his plan? You’re supposed to take the three hundred grand and go.

“Why do that? You knew I was going to do it.”

“I wanted that money to be for you,” Dieter explains. “Not taking care of the mortgage and everything else. I’d pay for your school too but something tells me you’d refuse that.”

“Correct.”

“Your mother was right, you are stubborn.”

This gets a shocked laugh out of you. “What else did you two talk about?”

“That’s between her and me,” he says with a supercilious look on his face. “I think she might like me better than you at this point.”

Affection swims through your limbs and it carries you to him. Without warning your hands go to his shoulders, mouth pressing gently to his. He accepts this eagerly, his wet tongue dabbing against yours gently.

"Thank you," you whisper against his full mouth. "But you don't have to take care of me."

"I like taking care of you," Dieter murmurs, his nose tracing yours. "You spent so long taking care of me and everyone else; let me take care of you now."

You nod; kissing him again and feeling him slowly back you towards your bed.

“Mia,” you remind him.

“Its fine,” he assures you, hands tugging at the hem of your shirt.

“I’m not going to sleep with you when you’re in a relationship, Dieter.”

“I’m not,” he promises you, “I swear.”

You want to press him for more information. But more than that, you just want Dieter. You need to be as close to him as possible. You need to feel his bare skin on yours, inhale the crook of his neck, taste his lips.

And when he gently urges you onto your back in your childhood bed you don't fight him. You allow him to bring down your shorts and panties and even though you can't see anything other than his hair over your belly you can't stop the gasp that escapes you when his mouth begins to work over your core.

Moments later after you've come spectacularly for him, groaning out his name with your thighs quivering against his ears and your hands fisting through his hair, he crawls up next to you on the bed.

He traces over your abdomen, his dark eyes ever widened in wonder as he feels his son underneath his palm. Sunlight filters in through your bedroom window, giving him a haloed effect as he gazes down at you, his mouth swollen and damp.

"I don't know how I'm going to go back to normal life," you smile sleepily as you run a finger along his lower lip. "After being spoiled by Dieter Bravo school is sure going to pale in comparison."

Dieter keeps the smile frozen on his face but inside his stomach drops. Your schooling is going to start soon. He’s going to be separated from you. He feels his sons foot kick him and you both giggle. At least he’ll have this part of you.

He helps you into your panties and shorts before your mother returns shortly after. If she notices your flushed cheeks and Dieters extra mussed hair she doesn't comment on it.

"I cheated," your mom says with a mischievous little smile that Dieter thinks looks identical to yours as she hands you both your plates when you come to sit at the dining table. "There's a wonderful Latin restaurant in town. They make the best palta."

The food is just as good as she made it seem. Between the palta and the Estofado and variety of empanadas you’re quickly overwhelmed with taste. You take your time savoring it though, making a note to try more Chilean food in the future.

“So I guess I’ll move back tomorrow,” you say after a hot bite of your stew. “I only have the two suitcases.”

Nothing about moving back appeals to you, aside from seeing your mother on a regular basis. You know for a fact that being away from Dieter will hurt, but perhaps that’s for the best. You need to separate yourself from this silly fantasy.

"You can move back here at any time my love," your mom enthuses before casting a quick look at Dieter's downturned face. "But I think it would be best if you stayed at Dieter's. He has all that space and a pool and that chef-"

"But I don't like to think of you here all by yourself," you insist.

"Honey, don't worry about me. I lived with your father and then you for over thirty five years. I need a break."

You sputter a surprised laugh at this. This whole time you had been painting your mother as this sad tragic figure, when really she's a woman coming into her own just as much as you are. You swallow your mouthful, eyes darting to the man at your left.

"Is it okay if I stay at your place a little longer, Dieter?"

"Of course," Dieter enthuses through a mouthful of avocado. "I told you, stay as long as you like. And now your Mom can come visit whenever she likes."

You smile at this, holding in the urge to kiss him.

When Dieter rests his arm on the back of your chair during the rest of dinner you don't even register it happening. When his fingertips absently trace your upper arm as he listens to your mom talking about her job you don't notice.

But your mom notices. She notices it all.

On the drive back home your mind is a muddle of things. But mostly your heart swells with the knowledge that Dieter, a man you always thought was chronically selfish did this for you at no gain for himself.

"You didn't have to do that for me," you tell him as you walk back into Dieter’s home a short while later. He’s quiet with a faraway look in his eyes.

"I know. I just wanted to help."

The two of you are heading to the kitchen, about to put away the leftovers your mother insisted on sending home with you. Dieter takes them from your hands with a soft “I got it” before popping them in the fridge.

Dieter had always struck you as self-centered, the entire time you worked for him. From the flippant way he spoke to people in the industry he disliked, to the cavalier attitude towards other PA’s.

But right now all you can think of is the way he's continually showed up for you. The way he supports you in not only this pregnancy but your schooling, your family, your goals. You see a change in him, one that takes your breath away.

“Dieter?”

“Yeah?”

He sees your eyes and the way they go dark the longer you stare at him. The desire is so clear in your expression.

He crosses the room and his mouth comes to yours, petal soft. He sighs, hands coming to either side of your neck, thumbs propped against your jaw. You lean into the kiss, your belly sandwiched between the two of you.

"Take me to bed, Dieter."

Dieter doesn't hesitate, his arm bands around your waist guiding you to the bedroom.

He takes his time undressing you, kissing every part of your flesh he uncovers. He kisses the stretch marks on your belly, and he caresses the extra flesh that pads your body with a reverence that makes you teary.

Your stomach is getting too large for missionary so he sweetly urges you to roll onto your side, not doing anything until you’re comfortable. Only then does he makes sweet and gentle love to you, your head on his arm as he fills you slowly, watching the way your body responds to him.

He holds you delicately at first, not wanting to be too rough. But you’re eager, so fucking eager, and your hand goes to his hip, urging him to go harder, to go faster.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, your thigh over his, your body slowly being pumped into by him. You’re arching, whimpering his name as he holds you against him. Every stroke feels like adoration, every graze of his fingers against your clit feels like more than just desire.

“I need to hear you come, baby,” he murmurs, his nose running along your temple. You turn your face to him, kissing him gently as his thrusts deepen, his lips hot and needy.

“Wanna come for you,” you gasp, your body starting to clench around him tighter and tighter before your head is tilted back against his throat as you cry his name. Your body spasms as arousal coats his cock still buried within you.

“So good for me, so fucking good,” Dieter groans, his thrusts becoming erratic. Before long his eyes roll back and he’s emptying himself into you, hands gripping your chest and cunt, needing you as close as possible.

Slowly your breathing slows and you both grow drowsy. But before you fall asleep you roll until you’re facing him. He looks so beautiful staring back at you with sleepy eyes and his curls spread out on his pillow.

You kiss him gently, hand at his collar before pulling back.

"Dieter, I think you're gonna make an amazing father."

Something about the sincerity in your voice moves him to tears that he has to blink back. He draws you closer to him under the duvet, needing the warmth of your skin, the closeness of your body.

"Do you really mean that?"

"Every word."

Dieter is on a unicorn floaty, half dozing in the late morning sunshine when you ask him.

"Dieter, will you tell me about your mom?"

It comes out of nowhere one day in the pool. You're half stretched out on a purple pool noodle, your lower half submerged in the clear water as you kick lazily. Dieter turns his head when you ask him.

"What about her?"

You shift on your pool noodle, getting comfortable. "What was she like?"

Dieter takes a moment to compose his thoughts. His lower lip tends to stick out when he does it.

"Funny. Smart. Dramatic like me." Dieter grins. "She died when I was in my early twenties and sometimes I wanna be furious about all the time I didn't get to spend with her. But then I count myself lucky I had two decades."

You don't say much to that. You don't know why but you crave more knowledge about Dieter that isn't surface level. You crave more from him, almost like you need to know him better than anyone.

"She's the one who encouraged me to go into acting," Dieter continues. "She worked two jobs so she could pay for my acting classes."

"Really?"

"Yeah. She was so excited when I got the scholarship to RADA," Dieter says dragging his hand through the water.

"She sounds amazing."

"She would have loved you," Dieter says before he can stop himself. For some reason this comment causes your heart to flip.

He looks momentarily lost in thought before turning his gaze to you. His eyes scan the freckles starting on your shoulders, the light that shines in your hair. He's dazzled for a moment before he remembers that he wanted to ask you something.

"What about you? What was your dad like?"

A little smile breaks out over your features. You rarely talk about your father but right now all that comes to you are good memories.

"Smart. Scary smart actually. Like, every time we played wheel of Fortune he'd guess it within like the first two letters," you laugh gently. "He was the first person I told about my Masters program. The first person I told about a lot of stuff. He was always my cheerleader."

"Sounds like a great dad."

"He loved your movies," you say, kicking your feet in the water gently. "He made me sit through a Cliff Beasts marathon one year for his birthday."

Dieter almost falls off his floaty in shock.

"No shit. Really?"

"Yeah," you give a giggle before turning a bit reserved. "He and your mom would have gotten along, I think.”

"Bet they would have been the most amazing grandparents," Dieter says in a faraway voice.

"Definitely."

Dieter shifts in the unicorn, causing it to squeak. His sunglasses are slid back up his nose and he grows somber.

"You must be excited about starting school again," Dieter says tightly hoping the disapproval in his voice isn't obvious.

He looks over at you when you don't reply right away. You look conflicted, almost guilty as you glide a hand through the water in front of you.

"Sometimes I wonder if I'm continuing on with school and everything because that's what I was doing when my dad died," you offer solemnly.

"Are you?"

"Not sure. When he died I thought it was such a natural next step to use my biology background and go into research." A niggle of doubt is there at the back of your head. "But I'm not sure that's what I want anymore."

"So you might not go back?"

Dieter hopes the eagerness in his voice isn't too obvious.

"I don't know," you answer honestly before sliding off the pool noodle and paddling in place. "I'm tired. I think I'm gonna have a nap."

Dieter watches you walk up the steps of the pool, ass twitching as you grab a towel and head into the main house. But that's not what causes the grin to start on his face.

You're not sure about going back to school.

There's hope.

"Just this once," Dieter murmurs, his teeth skating along your pulse point. "C'mon baby."

You’re on all fours, your stomach supported by a variety of pillows. Dieter is behind you, hands on your hips, his body tilting over yours. It’s a Saturday night and he’s just got back from a particularly boring table read.

His hands found yours without question when he got home not long ago, pulling you along with him to bed and whispering into your ear the one thing he’s wanted to hear since he got you pregnant.

You sigh heavily, eyes closed as he sinks into you.

"Please make me come… Daddy.”

Dieter groans lowly in his throat, his cock driving into you deeply. You're too overwhelmed by the sensation to be turned off by the honorific. And if he’d just left it at that, you could have continued without further distraction.

But Dieter is completely turned on by the expression, his hands coming to hold yours to the mattress as he tilts his mouth to your temple.

"Yeah, you made me a Daddy," Dieter breathes against your ear as he thrusts. "You like that? Huh? Daddy fucking you?"

“Not at all,” you cringe, unable to help yourself from laughing. The entire ‘Daddy’/‘Mommy’ thing has never turned you on. “I hate it worse than baby mama.”

Dieter sighs, his motions slowing. "C'mon."

"It's creepy," you tell him. "I don't like the Daddy thing."

"Fine," Dieter grumbles as his motions slow further. "Just wanted a little dirty talk is all."

Dieter’s thrusting has gone from staccato-ed to completely still. You glance over your shoulder at him with your brows raised. His cheeks are red, he’s embarrassed. Dieter rarely gets embarrassed like this and you find it completely endearing.

“I was just trying to have a little fun,” Dieter pouts, about to pull out of you.

“Hey hey, I like fun,” you tell him, wrapping your hand around the back of his neck so he can’t leave in a huff. You start to push back against his length, gratified when you hear him give a muffled whimper into your shoulder.

“Like maybe you tie me up sometime?”

“You’d let me do that?” Dieter asks in awe, his cock slipping further into you. You groan at the sensation, arm dropping as you gain purchase on the mattress once more. His thrusting is increasing in tempo again, stoking that pleasured spot within you.

“Yeah,” you breathe softly. “Yeah, I would.”

And you mean it. You’ve never done it with anyone else, but you would with Dieter. He doesn’t do things harsh and cruel. He touches you reverently. You trust him. “I’d let you tie my wrists and ankles,” you tell him, body arching as he continues to thrust. “Let you have your way with me.”

Dieter gives a guttural choke at the very thought of it. You tied up, spread eagle on his bed so he could go down on you for hours. Pulling delicious fucking noises from you as you writhe for him.

“Would you want that?” you tease, knowing very well he would. “Having me at your mercy, Dieter? Fucking me exactly how you want?”

“Yes,” Dieter almost shouts, “fuck yes I would. Please…. Fuck I…”

His forehead dips to your shoulder blade as he pulls you back and forth against his length, jutting his hips forward. You feel so good, so silken and tight and perfect and he can’t believe this is happening. That you’ve fallen into this comfortably rhythm of give and take. That you can be vulnerable with him like this.

“How would you fuck me?” you ask, feeling your climax approaching. “Tell me, Dieter, I’m so close.”

“Would eat you out for hours. Wouldn’t…. wouldn’t be able to help myself,” Dieter grunts, his cock quickly pressing into you over and over. “Then I’d turn you over...a-and I’d tie your wrists together, mmmph…. And I’d…I’d-“

Dieter doesn’t get to finish that thought because he feels you hit your peak, whining out his name as you climax. Dieter feels your cunt milking his cock and his voice croaks out some garbled gibberish as he empties himself into you.

You fall asleep not long after that, your naked body glowing in the moonlight like some goddess of myth. He realizes he would do anything to keep you like this. Happy and sated and with him.

But mostly, he wants you to want him.

"You said you got into RADA right?"

"Yeah, but I didn't go," Dieter says as he goes over his latest script suggestion from his agent. "Got a reoccurring part in a soap opera a few weeks before I was starting and then the first Cliff Beasts and then, well, you know the rest."

"Do you still have your audition tape?"

"It's on YouTube. Some asshole uploaded it when I got nominated for my Oscar."

"Really? Can we watch it?"

"Knock yourself out."

Dieter watches you waddle to the tv room, excitedly bringing YouTube up on the television and typing Dieter Bravo RADA audition.

You sit on the couch, looking eagerly up at the screen. A very fresh-faced Dieter pops up.

"Oh my gosh you're so young!" You say with a girlish giggle. "So weird to see you without a beard."

Dieter can't help but casually make his way over to the couch, plopping down next to you and watching his younger self.

"Hi my name is Dieter Bravo and I would like to submit myself for acceptance into your program," the young Dieter says, eyes bright and smile big. "Today I'll be performing Gloumov’s monologue from The Diary of a Scoundrel” by Alexander Ostrovsky."

"Your voice is so different."

The young Dieter positions himself slightly to the left of the screen.

"Barely out of puberty." Dieter casts a critical eye over his formerly svelte frame. "And about fifty pounds lighter."

"I like how you look now," you answer honestly. "More manly."

Before Dieter can accept that compliment his younger self is starting the scene.

"Look into my eyes. Can’t you see there that I’d rather die than cause you a moment’s pain?"

Young Dieter takes a moment, his dark eyes beguiling as he stares into the camera, overcome, before continuing. And there on the screen You see the same transformation that you saw back on set in Ireland. Where Dieter becomes the character.

"Oh, if you only knew how many times your sweet, gentle smile has stopped me on the very brink of impropriety," the young Dieter pauses, his eyes shiny.

"But even that day when I forgot myself, you didn’t turn me from the house! Oh, my God, what happiness you’ve given me. What happiness, what happiness!"

A tear is shining on young Dieter's cheek as he gives a soft smile into the camera, a look of relief on his face.

"Holy shit," you breathe, eyes wide. "Dieter that was ... Really good."

"You sound surprised."

"Well I guess ... I've only really seen you in the Cliff Beasts movies. I didn't know you could, you know, act-act."

"You thought I won an Oscar for having a great personality?"

You give him a playful shove as Dieter's younger self comes back to the screen.

"Thank you for your time. Hope I see you in the fall."

Dieter plucks the remote from the coffee table about to change it to something less him. He tires of seeing his face on televisions and phones and sides of buses.

Something captures his attention though, one of the suggested videos on the right.

"Hmmm, there's a video on home births," Dieter says as he navigates the screen. "Wanna watch? Might prep us."

"Sure."

Thirty minutes later Dieter pauses the television, both of you sitting shell-shocked next to one another.

"That was a terrible idea."

"I agree."

The camera had captured everything. In HD detail. Up close. Including a very vivid image of a baby crowning.

"That's what's gonna happen to me?" You say in a high pitched voice, struggling to your feet. "I can't do that!"

You've been reading books ever since the strip turned pink, but actually seeing it is totally different.

"A little late for that," Dieter says from the couch watching you begin to pace back and forth in front of the television.

"That was disgusting," you say with a particularly aggressive jab of your finger towards the television. "Did you know about the placenta? It's like I have to give birth twice!"

"At least it's not twins," Dieter offers weakly. He doesn't miss the irritation that flashes in your eyes.

"Should we watch the rest?"

"Your call," Dieter shrugs. You take a moment, looking at the television paused on a serious looking doctor.

You take your seat next to Dieter once more. "Okay. I'm ready."

Twelve minutes later the movie is shut off indefinitely.

"An episiotomy?" You practically shriek before leaving the room. "If that happens I'm charging you extra, Bravo!"

Your mother starts to come over weekly for coffee. The first time she does you show her the nursery. She's all smiles and wet eyes as she walks around the space. You know she's marveling at the high-end designer items, the impossibly soft sheets and ornately carved crib. You never grew up with expensive things like that.

When the two of you make your way into the kitchen and you make her a coffee she smiles up at you.

"Dieter told me about the charity he's thinking of creating."

You almost drop the espresso cup that you're holding. "You talk with Dieter?"

"Of course," she nods. "He calls me to update me on the baby and texts the odd photo every now and again."

"What?!"

You're struck dumb by this. Your mother barely texts you, and now she's best friends with your boss? She smiles at your discomfiture. But you’re blown away, and a little irritated since you also send your mom updates via email almost daily when she’s not here for her weekly (decaf) coffee checkups and snuggles.

"You fit right in here."

"I'm just part of the scenery until the baby gets here" you smile pouring her the coffee and sliding the mug towards her across the counter. "Then it's back to school and on my way to a PhD for research."

You slice up the carrot cake that Petra made for your visit (along with your help), sliding a plate to your mother and taking one for yourself.

"I wanted to talk to you about that," your mom says, gaze curious. "Why are you doing the PhD thing?"

You sit across from her, brows raised. "You know why, Mom."

"It’s just you never wanted one before your father passed," she says lightly. "You said your Masters was enough."

You don't know why but you feel defensive.

"Well when he died I wanted to do something to honor him I guess. What better way to do that than by helping with the research?"

"Your father was a smart man, he was amazing at his job and so proud of you, you know that," your mother tells you before placing a dry hand over yours. "But his biggest joy in life was being a father."

"What are you getting at?"

"I'm saying I don't want you to dedicate your life to something because you feel like you should. This is your life, my love. You only get one."

"I know."

"There are plenty of ways to give back, to honor your father and still be around to watch your son grow up."

Your hackles immediately rise and she can tell the second they do.

"I'm sorry," she says quickly when she sees the expression on your face. "Never mind. Let's talk about something else."

The rest of the visit flows smoothly, but you can’t ignore the way your mother looks at you whenever you mention Dieter.

"Taco Bell."

Dieter is woken out of a deep sleep by your lips at his ear. You're curled up together in his bed, your belly prodding his lower back.

"A Burrito supreme and a large Baja blast… And Cinnamon Twists…And four fire sauce packets."

You're warm against his spine, voice a soft whisper huffed along his earlobe. He’s dazed, his eyes blurry as he attempts to understand what’s happening.

"Huh?"

"I need Taco Bell," you urge. "Please?"

A quick glance at his phone tells him that it's nearing 2:00 a.m.

"S'too late for the delivery apps, baby," he murmurs, patting your thigh companionably as if the conversation is now over.

For the most part, Dieter can anticipate and appease your cravings. Usually through Petra or food delivery apps. But at almost two in the morning he has access to neither.

You don't care.

You've been tossing and turning for hours because all you can think about is the beans and tomato and beef... You're practically drooling already. You pat his bottom politely, trying to signal he needs to get out of bed.

"The drive thru is open."

"It's late."

"But I need it," you whine.

You have no interest in attempting to drive one of Dieter's fancy foreign cars he keeps in the large garage. And it's too late to call a town car so you're stuck.

"No one ever needs Taco Bell. Bringing that shit in here is offensive," he mutters into his pillow. "S'full of filler and chemicals."

You give a soft exhale through your nose, about to flop onto your back in defeat when something occurs to you. Something else that you're craving as well.

Dieter is drifting back to sleep when he feels the light graze of your hand sliding over his hip. He thinks he's imagining it, but as the sensation continues his cock begins to stir. He goes rigid as your hand slides under his boxers, fingertips teasing his warm length as he groans.

"You do this for me and I'll do something for you when you get back," you purr, tongue coming to trace his lobe. "Daddy."

Dieter jumps out of the bed and nearly trips in his pursuit to grab his car keys as he simultaneously tugs on his sweatpants.

"You want cheesy potatoes too?"

When you wake up at seven months pregnant and see your reflection one morning you almost burst into tears.

You’re standing in front of the dresser mirror in your bikini, the only one left that fits. Your tits are practically bursting out of the cups, the bottoms tie at your hips dig into your flesh. You feel huge, you feel ugly and you feel not yourself.

There’s a knock at the bedroom door. Dieter peeks around, already dressed for the pool, a pink towel slung over his freckled shoulder.

“Swim time?”

Usually you swim by yourself, but Dieter has a rare free morning this week and he wants to take advantage. It had seemed like such a nice suggestion at breakfast, but now you balk, wishing you had anything else to wear but your fucking bikini.

Before it hadn’t mattered, but today you feel gross. You want to cover up as much as possible and you reach for your towel. But Dieter’s eyes are already drifting over your body, his cock stirring.

Dieter takes in the way your stomach protrudes out in the bikini, a beacon of fertility; his son nestled there safe within your body. He moves into the room, the towel dropping without thought onto the floor behind him.

"You're exquisite," Dieter breathes, his hand coming to rest on your belly. You feel his thumb gently rub, his eyes sparkling as he continues to stare at you.

"I look disgusting," you say cringing away from him. Dieter won't let go of your wrist as you try to flee.

"Are you fucking insane?"

“Dieter stop,” you say, wincing away from him and trying to pull your wrist out of his warm grip.

"You don't believe me," Dieter states flatly.

"No I don't," you reply sharply. "It's what everyone tells pregnant women so they don't feel shitty about looking like a house."

Dieter blinks at you as if he can’t believe what he’s hearing before he’s shaking his head. His hands slide to your plush hips, turning you back to face the dresser. His eyes have blown pitch black, and his hands can’t stop from running along your body.

"Look at her," Dieter groans into your ear. "Look at that sexy thing in the mirror."

"Dieter-"

"Keep looking," he urges you, hand gently forcing your face in the direction of the mirror before his hands slide up your bikini top over your breasts, pebbling the nipples. You swallow at the sensation, not even protesting when he unties it at the back, letting the colorful fabric drop to the ground.

You stand there in nothing but your bikini bottoms, cheeks flushed as Dieter groans deliciously behind you. His hands come to cup your tits, thumbs grazing the protruding nipples.

“See her gorgeous fucking tits?”

You cringe away from the mirror, hating how you look. But if Dieter is lying about how turned on he is, he’s a better actor than you ever gave him credit for because his cock is swelling against your lower back, stiff and pulsing.

You let him untie your bikini bottoms, finding yourself already slick between your legs when they drop to the ground along with everything else. You watch in the mirror as Dieter sheds his swim shorts before gently urging you to place your forearms on the dresser.

You can only watch his face as he notches his cock at the entrance to your pussy, rubbing the head there and gathering the copious amounts of slick. His eyes flick from your face to your cunt as if he can’t decide which he needs to see more.

“Keep watching yourself, beautiful,” He rasps as he sinks into you, cock thick and full as you gasp. You’ll never tire of that sensation, the first thrust of his cock inside you. Your head falls forward but Dieter’s hand is there, gently making a fist in your hair and urging your face to the mirror.

"See how beautiful she looks when she's taking my cock?"

You can't see shit. Your belly is ballooned so far out you can barely handle it. But you look at your face and you see the heavy eyes and parted lips. You see the way you arch into Dieter’s body and how he towers over you and yeah... It's hot.

"Cock drunk," Dieter tells you with a swell of pride. "All sexy and sleepy looking."

His hands come to brace yours on the dresser, his dark eyes fixed on yours in the mirror.

"You see her?" Dieter pants, teeth gritting. "You see her tits bouncing? Feel her sweet pussy taking my cock? She's fucking magnificent. How can you say she’s not the sexiest thing alive?"

The way he talks about your reflection makes you almost jealous until you remember that it's you he's talking about.

"You're so fucking gorgeous," Dieter babbles as he nears his orgasm. “Never been more turned on in my fucking life.”

And he means it. He means every fucking word. He can’t stop touching you, kissing your shoulder, your cheek, your mouth when you tilt back to face him. You whimper his name when he starts to fuck into you harder and harder.

“Come deep, Dieter,” you grunt. “Fuck me full.”

He does with one final thrust, painting your insides as he cries out your name.

Despite this interlude you still suffer with crisis of confidence at times in the coming weeks. Your back is in constant pain. You waddle when you walk. You've never felt less attractive.

Dieter is obsessed. He can't stop finding reasons to touch you, brushing your lower back when he passes you in the hall.

All pretenses of employer and employee are gone. You’re basically in his bed every night, fucking him whenever you get the chance. Neither of you observe it outright, but it’s there lingering under the surface every time he asks if you’re ready to go to bed. It’s there when you shower together, washing each other’s hair. It’s there when you both murmur good morning and let him kiss you languidly over coffee.

When he catches you napping in the sunshine on his couch he's so taken with you that you wake up to find his curly head between your legs and his mouth bringing you to a gentle orgasm. You keen against his lips, hands going to card through his hair as you come.

You know why he's like this. It's because things are coming rapidly to an end. Once the baby is here this all ends. This ready access to sex, you lounging around his house. He'll have a newborn and you'll have a new life. You won't see him. You'll have your money, you'll be going back to school, and your mom's mortgage is paid off.

Dieter knows how you feel about snuggling and he goes to pull away.

"Don't," you say, arms outstretched, mouth twisted into a pout. Dieter stares at you in surprise, big puppy dog eyes wide. It makes you melt. He wraps himself around you, face nuzzling into your neck. The two of you snuggle there as you flick on the television to a Christmas special.

Just when you think Dieter is becoming a mature and sensible adult you feel him sigh heavily behind you.

“I'm not watching that depressing Christmas movie!" Dieter insists when It’s a Wonderful Life starts up. "I wanna watch the Muppet Christmas Carol!"

He can’t understand why you can’t stop laughing.

One quiet morning with Dieter filming audio reshoots for the Rogue Duchess you sit at the kitchen table, pensive. You stare at the pro and con list you've made sitting in front of you.

Ever since the conversation with your mother you've been second guessing your next steps post birth. Are you just doing it because you think you should be? Are you doing it because that's what you were doing when your dad died? Are you doing it because of misplaced guilt?

Your dad had been so proud of you, telling everyone about your Masters problem and how you were well on your way to a PhD like him.

He talked fondly about having two doctors and a nurse in the house, joking that your home would become like Grey's Anatomy.

Even then you'd felt a bit of the pressure to perform. To pursue a PhD to make him proud. In all your focus and pursuit you'd never really stopped to ask yourself... Is this what you want?

Pros - honor dad - get to be called doctor at the end Cons - no social life - have to move to Sacramento for several years - not guaranteed a job I like when I graduate - away from mom - STRESS - possible burnout - job market is competitive - won't necessarily make me happy

You need to add something else. Something that's been in the back of your head screaming for your attention. You raise your pen to the paper, adding your final item to the con list.

- Too far away from Dieter and Bubble.

And then a sentence you write and then immediately erase before crumpling the entire paper up in a ball.

- I'm in love with Dieter.

[8:43am] D: It hasn't even started and I'm bored out of my fucking mind

[8:44am]: Dieter it'll be fun.

[8:44am] D: no it won't. I HATE these fucking marathon interview days

Hours and hours of sitting with Mia and the rest of the crew talking about the upcoming film being released in a few months. He's covered in concealer and powder, his stylist has him in some absurdly patterned shirt that itches and he desperately needs a cigarette.

[8:45am] D: I wanna be at home with you---

He hesitates before deleting that last message. He can't send you messages like that. You're not dating, no matter how much it feels like you are. He feels twitchy now, all out of sorts as he thinks about you home and waiting for him.

He sneaks off to the corner of the hotel, hoping he can get off a few puffs before Diane wrangles him back inside.

He lights his cigarette, puffing away. He scans the space to make sure it's just hotel employees before he brings out his phone, going through his photos. He lands on the one from the other night, you mid laugh as the Jenga tower falls. You look so happy, so at ease.

He’s so ridiculously in love with you.

How can he let you go? How can he go from seeing you every day to you becoming a stranger? You've got one foot out the door at all times and he doesn’t want to hold you back from your dreams.

It was so easy to play house these past few months. To pretend like you were his. He was such a fool.

"Spare one?"

Dieter fumbles the phone, shoving it a hastily back into his jacket pocket. Its Mia dressed in a sleek black number, her makeup and hair perfect. She motions to the cigarette between his long fingers.

"My last one," he says ruefully.

Mia holds out her manicured fingers in his direction. "A quick puff then."

Dieter relents, handing it off to her. She takes a long drag, enjoying the curl of the smoke as the two of them stand shoulder to shoulder in silence. It feels awkward being together alone, the two of them haven't spoken since Prague. Dieter feels the need to fill the silence.

"How's Sam?"

"He's good," Mia nods. "He's not secretly in love with his assistant so it's already much better than my last relationship."

Dieter can't help but let out a small chuckle at that. Mia has been seen all over the tabloids in recent weeks with her hunky new Scottish co-star. Mia looks at Dieter with a small tilt of her head, squinting up at him.

"You tell her yet?"

"Tell who what?"

Mia takes another drag off the cigarette, giving him a leveling look. "You know who and you know what."

Dieter says nothing, watching as Mia holds the cigarette aloft. She gives a dramatic sign when she sees. He's going to make her have to say it.

"Have you told your PA that you're fucking crazy about her," Mia says flatly. "That you want to marry her and have tons of little Bravo's running around."

"I do not."

"Maybe just the one little Bravo then," Mia smiles, handing him his cigarette. He feels her heavy gaze on him and he knows that she deserves answers. He put her through a lot and she has been gracious as hell about it.

He sighs heavily before twisting to face her head-on. "No, I haven't."

"Why not?"

"It’s…complicated."

"What's complicated about love?"

"She told me she doesn't want to be a part of the baby's life."

"Back when she thought you only wanted to be together because you got her pregnant."

"She doesn't want me."

"Dieter I see how she looks at you. The girl is utterly besotted."

"Might want to tell her that," Dieter huffs in forced amusement.

Despite all the time you’ve spent together, you’ve really never made it clear how you feel about Dieter. Yes, you like the sex and you laugh with him. But you’ve never actually made overtures, talked about the future. You think of a future that doesn’t include him or your son.

Mia pauses for a moment, thinking about something. Her eyes scan the vicinity and before Dieter can do anything Mia grips him by the collar and plants a chaste kiss to his lips. Dieter pulls back immediately, his face cloudy.

"What the fuck-"

"You'll thank me," Mia promises.

He goes to say something to her about how uncool that was but a text from you sails in, almost as if fate is giving him the prompt he needs.

[8:58am]: If I wanted to postpone school for a little bit, do you think I could still stay with you? I could pay rent and everything. I think I just want to reconsider some things. Dunno if school is where I want to be right now.

“Fuck yes,” Dieter breathes, re-reading the message several times to make sure he’s not reading it wrong. You want to stay. You want to stay longer with him. He's still staring at your text with a goofy smile on his face when Mia’s voice sounds out beside him.

“Dieter, c'mon! Interviews are starting.”

He shoves his phone into his pocket, his grin bright as he follows Mia back inside the hotel for the marathon of interviews.

You want to stay.

The alert comes through on your phone, the setting still stuck on sending you Dieter Bravo related news items.

You're relaxing on one of the chairs in the backyard, one hand gently rubbing your belly, the other holding your latest crime thriller novel.

When the alert goes off its instinct to shut the book and retrieve the phone from the table beside you. Normal to scan the links that show up.

BRAV-ROWE ROMANCE BACK ON?

You sit up slowly, holding your expansive belly and grunting angrily. You continue reading as you walk inside, pacing around the kitchen.

Bravo, 40, and Rowe, 25, were spotted earlier today stealing kisses between interviews for their upcoming release The Rogue Heiress. What’s setting tongues wagging is that Rowe has also been recently seen getting cozy with Sam Heughen, 43, back in her native England only last week. Was Sam just a distraction from her real feelings for Bravo? Or is this just a cleverly executed publicity stunt for their upcoming film?

You slam your phone down onto the counter, irritation flooding you all over.

What the fuck?

Here you are pining over this guy and he's off kissing his ex?

Even their couple name is adorable. It fits. Your cheeks are flaming red at the realization that you fell for it. You fell for his lines, for his sweet eyes and sweeter mouth. You let yourself get swept up in a romance that isn't even real.

Dieter is an actor. He knows how to fake anything.

"I'm so fucking stupid," you say shaking your head. Bubble gives a gentle kick, drawing your attention back to the present.

“Sorry honey. Mom’s not stupid. Just fucking naive.”

It's dark when Dieter finally makes it home, shrugging of his jacket and toeing off his shoes. He wants to go to bed, to hold you after this long and boring day.

But you're not in bed. You're seated on the couch with the TV off. Your crossword book is beside you but you don't look like you've been working on it. Dieter feels a smile break out over his features at the sight of you in his home.

"Hi baby," he murmurs as he approaches, confused when you slowly turn to face him with a furious look on your face. "What’s wrong?"

“Have anything to tell me?”

“Uh…no?”

He watches you throw your head back and give an obviously false laugh. “No?”

“No.”

“Kiss any old girlfriends lately, Dieter?”

Dieter is stunned. How the hell did you find out about that? "How-"

"It's all over TMZ and now all the other news outlets," you say, teeth clenching. Dieter thinks about the way Mia checked around them before kissing him. You take a seat on the couch, arms crossed over your chest.

"I didn't just go kiss her," Dieter defends, coming to sit next to you. "She kissed me."

"Didn't really seem like you were fighting her on it."

You hold up your phone where the picture of Mia kissing Dieter is blown up. It's clear you've been studying the picture. Mia’s hand is on his collar, Dieter’s hand is on hers, but only so that he could pull it off. But to the outside viewer this looks very intimate.

“It’s not what it looks like.”

“No? Because what it looks like is you kissing your ex girlfriend.”

Dieter takes in the red of your cheeks and the way you’re clenching your jaw and despite everything a little thrill goes through him.

"Why are you so upset?" Dieter purrs.

"I'm not," you insist.

You feel furious and out of sorts and you can't tell him why because you'll sound like a jealous girlfriend which you absolutely aren't.

"You sound upset."

"Well I'm not." You chew at your bottom lip angrily. "It's just rude you know? Sleeping with me and seeing Mia. Does she-"

"I'm not seeing Mia," Dieter interjects.

"I have eyes Dieter," you scoff.

"She gave me a quick peck after we talked about Sam Heughan, her boyfriend, who she is in a committed relationship with."

"Yeah right."

Dieter stops a moment to take in your flushed cheeks, bright eyes and the arms that cross in front of you. You don’t want him to be seeing Mia and that can only mean one thing and that makes Dieter feel warm all over. His arm is on the back of the couch, almost behind your shoulders.

"You're jealous."

"I'm not," you insist, face heating.

"Then why are you acting like this?" He probes, shifting closer to you on the couch. "Tell me the truth."

He’s so close and he smells so good and you just fucking… you just…

"Because you're mine."

It comes spilling out of you like a dam, a rush, a torrent of words that once said cannot be taken back. But for once you don’t want them taken back. You want him to know exactly what you mean, especially as you launch yourself towards him, your arms going around his neck, your stomach plump between the two of you. Dieter is grinning so widely his face might crack as he gazes at you on his lap.

"I'm yours?"

"Yes," you all but growl, pushing him backwards until his broad shoulders hit the seat cushions of the couch and you begin straddling his prone body. His cock is rock hard through his pants, pressing into your core through your panties.

You tug them to the side, not even bothering to take them off. Dieter is already sliding off his pants and boxers, smiling up at you eagerly. He's pulsing between your thighs, hissing with pleasure as you notch him at your soaked entrance.

"Not hers," you grunt, sliding down his length with an aching groan escaping both of you. "No one else's. Just mine. You understand me, Bravo?"

You're staking your claim and Dieter is turned on out of his mind. You've never been possessive over him before, never been so commanding. Never been so clear in your desire for him.

"Yes!"

He wishes he could hold you in his arms, but being laid out flat on his couch while you ride him isn't exactly torture. Your pussy milks his cock, a vice -like grip around his thick length.

"I'm yours," Dieter repeats, thrusting up into your wet heat. "Just yours, baby."

"You only fuck me," you command, starting to bounce up and down in his lap the best you can with your swollen belly. His expression is pure delight, his wide palm on your hips.

"Yes."

"Only I make you c-come," you try to sound authoritative but your hips are rolling over his and he feels so good. You're barrelling towards an orgasm with every husky assurance from him.

"Only you," Dieter assures you, hands tightening around your gyrating hips. "And I only wanna make you come, baby. Only want you in my bed. Only you."

He's rambling and your eyes are cheating to the back of your head. You crest so fast, hands flying to the back of the couch so you can steady yourself. His hands slide up under your shirt and go to your breasts, pinching your pebbled nipples as you keen.

"C'mon baby," Dieter encourages as he watches your head tilt back. "Take what's yours."

"Mine," you pant as you start to come, head lolling forward. Your body starts to give small little twitches as you groan. "Mine, mine, mine."

"Yours," Dieter breathes, gazing up at you. "Only yours."

He feels you come, soaking his cock with your release. He groans at the sight of your fucked out expression, your hips still undulating.

"Now you," you command in a soft mewl. "Come for me, Dieter. Give my what's mine."

Your hands go to brace yourself on his chest, your hips lifting only to slide harshly back down, taking him as deep as possible. He feels a pleasurable stripe go up his spine.

"It's all yours," he offers before his own pleasure overtakes him at the sight of your heavy-lidded expression. He comes deep, deeper than he ever has and he does so whimpering your name.

You're both panting and you groan slightly as you pull yourself off of him, sitting back against the couch. Dieter rests there a few moments, his softened cock resting against his belly. He's smiling up at the ceiling like a madman.

Then he's stripping off all his clothes and standing before urging you to do the same.

"I'm fucking you in the shower," Dieter tells you as he pulls your t-shirt up over your head. "I want you to give me another one."

But you don't just give just him another one because it doesn't end in the shower. Or on the kitchen counter after a midnight snack. But in his bed where he urges you to the end of the bed and fucks you slowly standing next to the mattress, your thighs spread beautifully for him as his cock lazily saws in and out of you.

His hands grip your thighs tightly, urging you to bounce against his hips. Your bodies move together, the pleasure increasing.

“So good,” you croon, your forehead dotted with sweat. “You feel so perfect, Dieter.”

You’re babbling, high on the pleasure of his cock and his nearness. Dieter revels in it, the way you’re unabashedly giving him praise, the way you don’t stop him or shy away from him whispering sweet nothings into your neck.

“And I’m all yours,” he promises. You almost think you can read love in his eyes as they gaze down at you.

“I’m all yours,” you tell him back without thought.

His thrusts increase, his hands holding you tightly, fingers splayed over your clit. He teases and rubs until you’re on the brink of another orgasm and you finally come in tandem, both of you trembling.

“That’s my girl,” he groans, kissing behind your ear as you shiver.

You don’t tell him you’re not his girl because right now you feel like you could be.

You wake up the next morning in Dieter’s bed with one of his legs wedged in between yours, his arm draped over your middle and his forehead against your neck. It feels right and it feels perfect and as your sleep clears…A mixture of shame and disbelief overtakes your body.

What the fuck was that last night?

You'd been almost mad with rage at the sight of that TMZ pic. And when he'd come onto the couch you'd just felt this strange possessiveness overtake you.

Just want you in my bed. Only you.

Those words were so nice to hear. So gratifying. And you believed him about Mia and the photo. It had been all too easy to move past it, to allow him to lick into your mouth as he fucked you. You glance over your shoulder to see him sleeping, his hair falling into his closed eyes.

Mine.

No. Not mine.

He's not yours. He can't be.

He's Dieter Bravo and you're you. Thinking that somehow you could be together is a delusion. Dieter just hates being alone. And he knows that being a father is a huge deal. He knows that it's all going to rest on his shoulders and he's looking for a lifeline as your due date grows rapidly closer.

He doesn't actually have feelings for you.

It's just that Mia might be out of the picture and he's clinging to whatever is in the vicinity - today it happens to be you. Tomorrow it'll be whatever model he's paired with at the next photo shoot.

You've known him long enough to know his moods and his ever changing interests. In a couple of months when the baby is here and you're in Sacramento he'll probably have forgotten your name.

The thought hurts if you linger on it. He's just clinging to a lifeline and you can't be around when he does inevitably move onto the next woman because it'll break your heart.

You need to get the apartment now. You need to find out where you're going to be staying next semester. You need to be planning your life post birth.

He didn’t even write back to your text yesterday even though it said he’d read it. The one asking if you could stay longer, that you were considering postponing school. And you know why – because this wasn’t the plan. Because Dieter’s interest is waning and you know it.

You pull yourself from the bed, out of Dieter’s warm arms and you try your best not to look back at his still sleeping form as you tiptoe out of the room.

You return sometime in the afternoon to Dieter storming around the kitchen, looking frantic. He barrels towards you, tugging your hands that you quickly slide out of his grip.

“Why didn’t you answer your phone?"

“I had it on silent.”

"Where were you?"

"I was at the library," you say as if it were the most obvious answer. Dieter looks like he’s been fisting his hands through his hair all day.

"You're not supposed-"

"I know I’m not supposed to leave, but I wore sunglasses and no one recognized me." You put your purse down on the ground. "I just needed somewhere quiet to organize my thoughts. I needed to research apartments without distractions."

"Apartments," Dieter repeats slowly.

"Yeah, for next semester," You say breezily as you push past him and make your way into the kitchen. He follows hot on your heels like a desperate puppy all big eyes and furrowed brows.

"Next semester? I thought you were thinking of postponing?"

He watches you glance around in the fridge before pulling out a bowl of blueberries that Petra has left for you.

"No point," you say, popping one in your mouth. "I decided I need to get focused and start as soon as possible. That reminds me though; I don't think I can really stay long after the baby is born. I'll want to get to Sacramento as soon as possible."

Dieter looks as if you've punched him. He's gone pale, his large eyes luminous. He's sagging against the counter as if his own body can't support him anymore.

"What? Why?"

"I told you, I need to focus," you tell him, popping the blueberries back into the fridge. "And I know that I don't get paid until the Bubble is born but I'm wondering if I can get half now? I need to put a down payment on an apartment out there."

"You're buying an apartment in Sacramento?"

"Of course," you say, taking a deep breath. "I'll be in school for a few years; the rest of my Masters then the PhD, then my residency out there. Makes sense."

"But ... You weren’t even sure about it," Dieter says weakly.

"That was before I really thought about it," You say, shrugging. "I can't sit around my boss's house all day organizing his next manicure and making sure his latest fuck buddies sign NDA's."

Dieter straightens immediately, his jaw clenching.

Too far.

As soon as you say it you wish you could take it back. It's an ugly, unfair thing to say and you both know it. But you feel exposed, like a raw nerve.

Dieter feels everything inside him twisting hideously. He was so fucking deluded to think you'd stay, to think you'd fallen for him the same way he has for you. He wants to scream at his idiocy.

How are you just so okay with this? How can you walk away like the last several months have meant nothing?

Dieter can only stare at you, his eyes going from wide to narrowed. His hand curls into a loose fist at his side, the other still braced on the counter.

“There's a contract," Dieter all but growls. "You get your money once the baby is born."

"I know,” you say quickly. “It's just that the tuition is due this month to hold my spot for next semester."

"That's not my problem."

You take a step back, brows knitted. You weren’t expecting that.

“But-“

"You signed a contract stipulating that you wouldn't get the money until the baby is born," Dieter croaks. "So there's your answer."

He turns from you, heading down the hallway to his art studio. You follow close behind, waddling quickly to keep up.

"Dieter I can't afford the place without that money."

"Read the contract," he snaps. "You signed it."

He quickly moves into the studio, slamming the door behind him.

He hears you on the other side of the door, breathing heavily. He’s worried you’re crying.

Finally he hears you shuffle away and he moves to the window, sitting in the chair he reserved for you when you return home with your son. He imagined painting both of you, the light bathing you both in a dreamy glow.

Dieter is devastated, his head resting heavily in his hands as he fights back the urge to sob.

What the fuck happened? One minute you were insisting he was yours, your bodies working together beautifully. The next second you're telling him you're halfway out the door.

You don’t want to be a mother. You never did. You always made that perfectly clear. He was just too besotted to understand. He looks around his art room, feeling a fury building within him. What the fuck has this all been for? Why the fuck is he so fucking stupid? Why did he have to go and fall in love with you?

He needs drugs. He needs alcohol. He needs something to take this stabbing pain away. And just as his trembling hand goes to his phone to call up Corey Brigham he glances up at the painting he's been currently working on.

It's an oil painting image from a dream he had recently. One where he stands in the ocean up to his knees, the wind gentle and the day mild. Dieter is holding you back against him, his head over your shoulder, both of you gazing down at the tiny infant in your arms.

And there's his son, eyes closed, a soft smile on his face. The image of what Dieter things he’ll look like.

My son.

The cell phone is pushed back into his pocket. He's not living just for himself anymore. He's got a son he will put before himself in all ways. His son will not grow up with an absent father like Dieter did.

All of a sudden his studio door bursts open. You look harried as you stride in, fixing him with a glare. He knows you want to tell him off and he wishes you didn't look so beautiful when you’re angry.

"You're not supposed to be in here," Dieter insists, feeling a stab of anxiety go through him as you walk towards him. He leaps up from the chair, almost tripping over himself in his desire to usher you out of the room.

“We were in the middle of a conversation,” you snap. “You can’t just-“

Your cutting remarks die before they can be completely formed because as you glance around the room your eyes widen in shock.

Dieter’s art room has always been a mix of canvas, paint spills, old coffee cups and grotesque sculptures. But right now all of the painted canvases are positioned around the room, sketches lining the drafting table under the window.

And they are all of you.

Ones of you with your belly swollen, sleeping on the couch. Others of you cross legged at the table hunched over your laptop. There's one of you with your face serene as you lay the bathtub, that night Dieter and you talked for hours. Snapshots of time, your belly at different stages.

"Are these..." You go over to a stack of sketches. “Are these all me?”

Dieter is silent, his eyes drifting to your face when you take in the portrait he did of the three of you. Your hand goes to your belly instinctively as you take in the image.

“I always imagined he’d look like that,” you say with a soft little huff.

Your eyes go to the drafting table, sketches in charcoal sticking out to you. Some are dated as far back as Ireland, some even before that. Your fingers linger on one in particular of you chewing your bottom lip in thought, a pencil raised between your fingers. You glance at the date.

“This was before I was pregnant.” You trail off, gaze moving back to his face. "How long have you been sketching me?"

Dieter shrugs and for the first time since you've known him he looks truly embarrassed.

"A while."

You move slowly towards him. "Why?"

He sighs, only steps away from you now.

"Isn't it obvious?"

You swallow, feeling your heart pound a devastating rhythm. No, this can’t be real. He can’t be suggesting what you think he is. And yet as he stands there, dark eyes wet you can’t help but wish for it to be real.

“I'm crazy about you,” Dieter confesses.

No, not confesses. That would suggest he wanted to keep it hidden, when it’s anything but.

“I just want to be with you all the time. I want to share everything with you. My life, my home, my everything. I want you here in this house with our son. I want to support you going back to school. I want to make you happy in any way I can but I want you to do it as mine.”

You want to say something, to say anything to this grand romantic speech, but your throat has tightened and your mouth gone dry. All you can do is stand there, staring at him like a pregnant idiot.

“And I know that’s selfish to say and I know it’s useless because you don’t love me back but I-I just needed you to know before you left,” Dieter continues, tears wetting the side of his cheek.

“You don’t need to love me back. Our son is a piece of you and if that’s all I can have of your love, that’s enough for me. He’s more than enough. I just. . . I needed you to know the truth, all of it. I fell for you way before you got pregnant, but after this time together I just, I’m...I love you.”

And now his tears are brushed away by the back of his hand and he looks as if he’s going to turn away from you, overcome with everything that he’s just admitted.

You can barely see through the tears in your eyes. All the feelings that have been swirling within you compel you to pitch forward, your hands outstretched, his name on your lips.

You’re about to cross the room, desperate for his touch when a stab of pain goes through you sharply, causing you to almost come to your knees. You begin doubling over with a cry as Dieter runs to close the distance between you, his hand immediately on your back.

“What is it, baby?”

Dieter is confused when he sees an overwhelming amount of clear liquid running down your legs. Your eyes are round, wide and terrified when you look up to him.

"Dieter, I think I'm going into labor."

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