#when people talked about date night job delivering i thought it was just because we were starved

[daisywinchester]

Win or Lose- Rafe Cameron x Reader

A/N: Hey guys, I'm new to this and just started writing lol. Advice is welcome!!

Summary: You're a Pogue and have been dating the Kook King for four months. At a party at Topper's, you find out your relationship isn't what you thought it was. (Inspired by the movie She's the One)

Words: 6,600+

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I sighed in content feeling the cool breeze on my face as I leaned on the balcony of Topper’s mansion. I looked down at the party below me, everyone dancing to some rap song. I was having a good time, but needed a breather from all of the Kooks. Most of them were nice enough, but I can only handle so much of their Daddy’s money this and Daddy’s money that before I’ve had enough. I’m a born and raised Pogue. I work two jobs to support my mom and younger brother, Spencer. She works hard and has a good heart, but good people can have issues too. When she has good months, she’s sober. When she starts drinking, she spirals. Stops going to work, the drinking is neverending, and I face the pressure of paying all of our bills.

In the mornings, I help deliver groceries with Pope for his dad. He was a few years younger than me in school, but is a nice enough kid. Starting in the afternoons, I waitress at the Country Club, which is where I met my boyfriend, Rafe. I knew the Kook King from high school, but we never really crossed paths until work. Especially since I never finished high school to start working. I served him and his friends one night. It was decently busy and they weren’t outwardly rude, but had me working extra hard. A lot of the older Kooks are pretty respectful if you do a good job, but they were very pretentious. I don’t expect much from people, but they had me running back and forth from the kitchen with ridiculous requests and racked up a $300 bill, leaving me with no tip. As the restaurant cleared out and I was finishing up my shift, Rafe appeared and walked straight towards me.

“Hey, uh, Y/N, right?” I nodded my head.

“Yeah, what’s up?” I asked.

“I just wanted to come back to give you this.” He said as he handed me some cash. “I’m sorry my friends were giving you a hard time and we didn’t leave you anything.”

“You don’t have to do that.” I started.

“I want to make sure a nice girl like you gets treated right.”  He smiled at me as he turned around while I tried to find words.

“Um, thank you.” I managed to get out as he turned back and winked at me. I stood there frozen, wondering why Rafe was being so nice to me. I shook my head and put the cash in my pocket before I started my walk home.

When I got home, I emptied my pockets to count how much I made tonight. When I got to the cash Rafe gave me, I noticed a note folded inside. It said I think you’re cute. Let’s get dinner sometime. Written underneath was his phone number. I scoffed at first thinking this was some kind of joke. He was such an asshole in high school and thought he was so much better than everyone because of his father. What the hell could he want with me? But I thought about how he came back a couple hours after he had left and what he said to me. Maybe he changed? I set the note on my dresser and went to bed.

A few days had passed and I thought nothing of the note until my brother’s birthday. I had some money aside so us and our mom could go out to dinner. We went to the Carrera’s restaurant since it was his favorite, and I know he was hoping to run into Kiara, who he’s liked since the 3rd grade. The Carrera’s were close family friends, and after we finished eating they brought out a cake for my brother. We all sang Happy Birthday and started eating the cake. Spencer was talking to Kiara so I turned to my mom, who was talking to Mrs. Carerra. They were talking about how the business is going as I continued thinking about the note. We finished up eating and headed back home for the night.

As I was getting ready for bed, I saw Rafe’s note on my dresser again. I couldn’t decide if I should text him or not. I still thought there was something suspicious about it, but I thought about the Carrera’s. She was a Kook and he was a Pogue. Their relationship caused such a scandal back in the day, but they got married and opened the restaurant, making enough to be full Kook. Maybe Rafe was actually interested, he did come back after all. I grabbed my phone and sat on my bed contemplating if I should text him. I sighed. Fuck it, why not. If it’s terrible at least I get a free meal.

Y/N: Hey, it’s Y/N. Sorry I took so long to reach out, I just saw your note. If you’re still up for it, I’d be happy to get dinner sometime.

I waited 45 minutes and no response. I started to get nervous that I made a mistake, or maybe he wasn’t interested anymore. I laid on my bed, my thoughts spinning. Suddenly, my phone buzzed.

Rafe: Hey, Y/N! All good, are you free tomorrow night?

I smiled, I guess I could give this a chance.

Y/N: I have work until 8 if afterwards isn't too late?

Rafe: Sounds good, I’ll pick you up when you’re off :)

I liked his message and let out a deep breath I didn’t know I was holding. Then, I could barely sleep. I was so nervous.

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Fast forward four months and here I am at Topper’s party. Rafe was a totally different person than I expected. He was better than any boyfriend I’ve ever had. He was so kind and I can’t stop laughing with him. He opened up to me about his issues with his dad and his battle with quitting drugs. I even helped him during his relapse. He drives me to work and picks me up everyday, usually going back to his place where I’ve unofficially moved into his bedroom. His dad was very skeptical of our relationship at first, but after he gave me a chance, he welcomed me into their family. It helped our case that his sister, Sarah, was also dating a Pogue named John B. She is such a sweetheart, but I don’t see her much since she hangs out with him and his friends 24/7. Wheezie is adorable, her and I got along instantly. Rafe wasn’t very close with her because she was so much younger, but we started bringing her along when we go to the movies or get ice cream. Being with Rafe felt like a dream, I had never been happier.

I heard footsteps approaching and I turned around, expecting Rafe to be walking up with our drinks he went to grab but instead faced Topper.

“Oh, hey Top.” I smiled and turned back around as he stood next to me on the balcony. Topper was okay, he wasn’t my favorite person but we got along well enough.

“Heyy Y/N. Where’s your man at?” He slurred and took another sip of his drink. I could smell the alcohol radiating off of him.

“Grabbing our drinks, he should be back in a sec.” I said

“I gotcha. I gotcha.” He said slightly swaying. We stood in awkward silence for a second as he chugged the rest of his drink before he started talking again. “You know Y/N, you wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for me.” 

“Yeah, I mean it is your house we’re at.” I laughed confused.

“No, like, with Rafe.” He said, dramatically emphasizing his name.

“What do you mean Top?” I questioned. I had no idea where he was going with this but I knew he was hammered.

“I basically set you guys up.” He said gesturing to himself and I laughed.

“I guess you’re a good matchmaker then, Cupid.” I smiled at him. I wanted to know what he was talking about, maybe he thinks being an asshole and your friend covering your ass counts as setting someone up.

“Something like that. This whole thing,” he gestured at me and then pointed off in the distance to wherever Rafe was at, “that was all me.” He said as he stumbled into me.

“Do you need a water or something? You are so drunk, Topper.” I said slightly concerned as I helped steady him. He usually drinks too much at his parties from the stress of hosting and worrying about people breaking things so I wasn’t too worried about him. We always know he’s too far gone when he starts crying about Sarah.

“I’m drunk but I know what’s up.” He got out. “You gotta hear this story, Y/N.”

“Alright, go ahead.” I laughed. I wanted to hear what he had to say, and was curious too. 

“So that night at the country club when Rafe gave you his number. I told him to. It was my idea.” He slurred.

“Well, thanks Top.” I smiled and patted his back.

“But, like, listen. It’s kind of pathetic you still work as a waitress at the country club, ya know? Rafe is working with his dad to take over the business, my dad doing the same. All the girls from your class are in college, and you’re a waitress.” I frowned.

“Okay, don’t be an asshole. Some of us weren’t born into money and have to work how we can. Someone has to work those jobs. You wouldn’t be able to eat at the country club if it weren’t for waitresses and kitchen staff.” I defended. I tried to brush off what he said as him being drunk but he continued.

“Yeah but we all think it’s pathetic. You’re a Pogue, we’re Kooks. B-but that night,” he slurred again, “we left and were talking about chicks here in OBX and options.”

“That’s lovely, you guys are such gentlemen.” I rolled my eyes. I knew Rafe used to sleep around and how guys talk, but I didn’t want to hear it.

“Thank you.” Topper said, too drunk to pick up on my sarcasm. “And Rafe said ‘Well our waitress was kinda hot’ and we started getting on him for calling a Pogue hot. Then he said ‘I’d never date one, just fuck one.’” I frowned, not liking what I was hearing. “So then I said to him that I bet he’d never last more than three months trying to date a Pogue. And he bet he could do it. And since we had the pleasure of seeing you earlier, we sent him back with the excuse to give you a tip and ask you out.” I couldn’t form words, my head frantically trying to make sense of what Topper just said.

“You’re drunk and don’t know what you’re talking about. Rafe has been nothing but genuine, and we’ve been together for four months now.” I fought back.

“And that’s bullshit!” He yelled. “He was supposed to dump you a month ago because he won but he wanted to keep fucking you for longer. I want my friend back and I want him single and I don’t want to be forced to hang out with a Pogue anymore.” He was fuming. I felt tears spring up. I didn’t know what to think. Was he just saying these things so I would hate Rafe and break up with him, or is there truth to what he’s saying?

“I-I-I” I started but struggled to find words. “I don’t believe that.” I tried to say, but it came out weak.

“Let’s go find Rafe then.” He said grabbing my arm and pulling me with him. He stumbled down the stairs nearly pulling me down them as I grabbed the railing to steady myself. We headed towards the kitchen, and spotted Rafe by the counter pouring a glass of wine as he looked up.

“Hey babe, hey Top. Sorry I was taking so long, you asked for wine and I had to open a new one, but some drunk asshole chucked the wine opener somewhere in the bushes so I’ve been trying to get it open with anything I can find.” He laughed and went to kiss me but I turned my head to dodge it. He frowned. “Baby, everything okay?”

“No, baby, everything is not okay.” Topper said sarcastically as we both looked at him. “I, for one, am pissed at you. And so is Y/N.” Rafe looked down at me.

“Okay, woah” I said putting my hands up in defense, “He is the one that’s pissed and also hammered. I am pissed because you were insulting me, Topper.” Topper started to speak but Rafe cut in.

“What the fuck is she talking about, you insulting her?” He said defensively, stepping towards Topper.

“Nothing that ain’t true man.” Topper put his hands up and stepped back. I put my hand on Rafe’s shoulder.

“Can we go talk please?” I asked, looking up at him.

“Yeah, you should go talk.” Topper said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Rafe started.

“Because Miss Waitress needs to go.” Topper started before I interrupted.

“Rafe, he’s drunk and saying a bunch of stupid shit. Can we just leave him and go talk please? It’s serious and I need to know if what he’s saying is even true.” I begged.

“It is true Y/N! I don’t lie when I’m drinking, I am an open book. Drunk words are sober thoughts, sweetheart” Topper yelled. People at the party stopped what they were doing and were starting to crowd around hearing Topper yell.

“If what’s true?” Rafe began to question, clenching his jaw and stepping towards Topper.

“Rafe, please, don’t bother with him, can we go-” I started before Topper yelled again.

“The bet! The fucking bet.” Topper yelled, throwing his hands up. I didn’t miss the look Kelce made, the way he knew what he was talking about. “I am so sick of it. I’m done going along with it, man. It was over a month ago!” Rafe shoved Topper against the wall as our growing crowd gasped. 

“Shut the fuck up right now.” He said, fists gripping his shirt pinning him against the wall. Kelce ran up and pulled Rafe off of Topper. They stared each other down before Topper lunged at Rafe, Kelce holding him back. I heard Kelce whisper “Not right now man, what are you doing?”

“Fuck you, Topper. You’re a drunk asshole. Y/N, let’s go.” Rafe said as he started walking towards me. I put my hand up and stopped him.

“Rafe, wait,” I started while tilting my head to the side. Dots were starting to connect, puzzle pieces coming together, and I didn’t want to believe it, but it was making too much sense. “You didn’t deny it.”

“What?” Rafe questioned.

“All you did was tell him to shut up, but” I started shaking my head and tears welled up. “You didn’t- you didn’t say it wasn’t true.”

“Baby, baby,” He started while grabbing my shoulders. “It’s not true, everything he’s saying is a lie. He- He’s drunk. He’s just jealous that I spend more time with you and is making shit up.” He tried reassuring me. Finally, Kelce stepped in.

“Fuck it, I’m over this too. It’s true, Y/N. And I’m completely sober because I’m driving.” Kelce said as he shrugged his shoulders. “Sorry man, but it’s gone on too long.” My heart started racing and the room started to feel overbearingly hot. I was struggling to breathe and my ears were ringing. I could see Rafe trying to talk to me but couldn’t hear him. I didn’t notice I started crying until he tried to wipe my tears away. I put my hands up to block him and turned for the door. The crowd parted as I started walking out. Rafe kept grabbing for my arm but I needed space and started to run. I made it out the door and ran down the path towards the beach. Rafe caught up to me and pulled me to a stop. 

“Y/N, wait, please, let me explain.” He said frantically. He actually looked concerned, but I knew it was just an act. What a good actor he was.

“There’s nothing to explain. I think I heard enough from Topper and Kelce. Get away from me.” I sobbed as I yanked my arm out of his grip.

“Please. Y/N. Let me talk to you.” He begged.

“Fine. You answer me first.” I seethed.

“Okay, I can do that.” He nodded.

“Did you ask me out because of a bet?”

“I-well” he started

“Yes or no?”

“Well, yes, but-”

“Goodbye, Rafe.” I said and turned around.

“Stop! Wait, please!” He grabbed my arm again.

“Stop touching me. I don’t want to see you Rafe, goodbye.” I yelled at him.

“I can explain everything, please.” He begged. I thought I saw a tear roll down his cheek, but my vision was blurry from the swarm of my own.

“I don’t know what you think there is to explain. You asked me out as a bet because you guys think so lowly of Pogues that we are undateable.” I cried. “I thought you loved me, but it was a lie.”

“It’s not a lie, I do love you.” He pleaded.

“I can’t trust you, Rafe. How can I trust you’re telling me the truth when our whole relationship was built on a lie? You manipulated me, used me just to seem cool to your friends and win a bet. Pretended to be interested in me, with the intention of dumping me in three months! All you did was lead me on.” I cried harder.

“Y/N, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry it started that way, but I really do love you. I don’t want to lose you” He pleaded again.

“No, Rafe, I’m sorry.” I said, he looked confused. “I don’t believe you when you say you love me, but I’m sorry that you are so entitled that you think you deserve me or my time after what you did. You’re no better than your father, using people and dumping them when you don’t need them anymore. I was a fool for thinking you could be a good person. Thank you for giving me trust issues for the rest of my life. I don’t want to see you ever again.” I turned and started walking away as I left him there crying. I knew comparing him to his father was a low blow, I almost felt bad. But one low blow doesn’t compare to four months of manipulation and lies. 

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It’s been one week since Topper’s party. One week since I’ve gone to work. My mom and my brother worry about me. I would too. I don’t leave my room. They try to bring me food but I don’t eat it, I haven’t had an appetite since that night. I have to try to get my life back together but I just feel broken. I don’t know if I’ll ever fully fix myself. But I have to. For my brother. For my mom. And for myself, I deserve it too. 

It’s been two weeks since Topper’s party. I heard my mom come stumbling home at 3am last night and I know what that means. She’s drinking again. It’s only a matter of time before she loses another job. Once that goes, who pays the bills? I haven’t been working. My brother is still in school, he needs to graduate unlike me. I have to step up.

I finally got out of bed. I called my boss at the country club to ask if I still have my job, she said I will have to pick up extra hours but I can work. I don’t want to see Rafe, but it pays well.  I had told her I had a family emergency and needed time off, she didn’t question it because of my mom. This was the first time I checked my phone. Rafe didn’t try to call me. He hasn’t texted me. I don’t know why he would, but it feels weird not seeing his name pop up on my phone. There’s a lot of things I have to get used to again. 

I showered for the first time since Topper’s party. I finally looked in a mirror for the first time in a week. I’ll need a lot of makeup to look presentable. When I finally felt ready, I tried to smile in the mirror. I can’t. I hope at work I can manage something, customers don’t like grumpy waitresses. I walked out the door expecting a ride. I was reminded I used to walk to work. I’ll have to get used to that again.

I got to the country club and headed straight to the bathroom. I took some deep breaths to mentally prepare myself to deal with all the Rafes and Toppers and Kelces that frequent this place. You can do this. I tried to tell myself. We’ll see how long I last.

By the end of the day, I was able to form a half genuine smile. Working made me feel normal again. My coworkers tried extra hard to make me laugh and smile, I laughed today. Maybe things will get better.

It’s been a month since Topper’s party. I pick up every shift I can, it keeps my mind busy. I feel almost back to normal, although I don’t know if I’ll ever fully feel right again. Healing takes a long time. I haven’t seen Rafe, but Topper and Kelce walked in two weeks ago. They saw me, put their heads down, and walked right back out. I haven’t seen them since. Good. I was having a really good day. The Kooks are getting excited for their Midsummers. They always tip well at this time of year. 

Heading into the backend of my shift, I was in a good mood and ready to close. I was finishing up my break when the hostess called me out for my new table. It stormed today, so no golf. The restaurant isn’t very busy on rainy days unless it’s a weekend. Only two more hours, I can do this. I walked out towards my table and my heart dropped. I saw Sarah sitting on the end, then I saw the rest of the Cameron family. But no Rafe. I can’t do this. I don’t know if I have it in me to face his family. I took a deep breath and went to their table. Thankfully it wasn’t too awkward. They were nice but I could see the pity on their faces. I know the look. I kept wondering how much they knew about our breakup. If they even know the whole or true story. I started to wonder where Rafe was, then scolded myself for even caring where he was. You don’t want to see him. I remind myself. Sometimes I think I miss him, but I think I just miss the thought of him. The fake him. I made it through dinner with the Camerons and sighed in relief, it went better than I thought. Ward tipped me generously. I don’t know if he feels bad for me or just likes to flaunt his money. As I finished cleaning up, Sarah walked back in. Gave me a flashback to Rafe walking back in the night he left me the note. 

“Hi Y/N, can I talk to you for a second?” Sarah timidly asked.

“Sure.” I said. Sarah was nothing but nice to me. I won’t fault her for her brother’s actions.

“I’m sure you don’t want to talk to me because of Rafe so I’ll be quick, I told my family I had to use the restroom quickly.” She started.

“Sarah, it’s okay. You can talk to me. It’s not your fault your brother is a dick.” I laughed. She chucked awkwardly.

“Well that’s what I was gonna talk to you about.” She nervously pulled at her hair. “I’m so sorry if that’s crossing a line, I will walk away if you want me to.” She paused.

“I guess go ahead.” I said as I stiffened.

“First I want to say I’m so sorry. I had no idea about the bet or anything when you guys were dating.”

“It’s okay, Sarah, nothing is your fault to be sorry for.” I shrugged.

“I might piss you off by saying this but please just hear me out. I’m not condoning his actions or asking you to take him back. It’s just- I know he asked you out to prove a point and it seemed like it was all a lie and that he was leading you on, but I think his feelings for you were real. Y/N, I didn’t know anything about the bet while you were dating, but I have never seen my brother happier. Our relationship got so much better when he was with you. Him and Wheezie finally got along, he even started being nice to Rose. You both seemed and felt genuine. I don’t mean to ramble, but I’m really worried about Rafe. He never leaves his room, and when he does all he does is yell at everyone. He won’t speak to Topper or Kelce. I’m really worried about him, and I’m scared he’s gonna start doing drugs again. Just- could you please talk to him? I’m not asking you to take him back, but he really needs the closure. And I think you still do too. Will you think about it?” I stared at her for a minute. I didn’t know what to say. Your brother is a great actor then because he fooled you too. Why is he so torn up about it after a month still? Is Sarah right?

“I’m sorry, Sarah, I don’t know what to say.” I said, my head spinning from my thoughts.

“No, no, it’s okay. I don’t know what I was thinking by bringing that up to you. That was so stupid and insensitive. I’m so sorry if I made you upset and I totally crossed a line. I should go.” She rambled while turning around.

“Sarah, wait.” I stopped her. “Do-do you really think he actually loved me?” I asked. I nervously played with the rag in my hand. She looked at me apologetically.

“Yes. I do.” She replied walking back out.

I couldn’t sleep that night. 

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Today is Midsummers. I woke up with a pit in my stomach. I work today. Waitstaff from all over OBX fight over working this event, I should be grateful. But I can’t stop thinking about my unavoidable situation: Rafe. He can skip family dinners but he can’t skip Midsummers. His family is too important, he has to be there. I debated calling in sick, but we didn’t have enough for our electric bill this month. Midsummers will pay enough for the entire month, I have to go. We dress fancier for the event, so I have to wear a nice dress. When I finished getting ready, I was shocked when I looked in the mirror. I didn’t recognize who was staring back at me. I’ve never worn a dress like this. I own sundresses, but nothing this extravagant. Although Rafe always said I looked beautiful in anything, even my work uniform after a 12 hour shift. I have to stop thinking like that. I told my coworker I didn’t have a dress and she let me borrow one. She said “I have the perfect dress for you. It’ll look amazing.” She was right. I feel amazing. I even curled my hair and put on extra makeup. I might even say I look like I would fit in at Midsummers. Now I have a completely different feeling about tonight. I feel confident, a new sense of self, the best I’ve felt about myself since the breakup. Now I want to run into Rafe. Let him see what he fucked up.

Some time has passed since I started working and I haven’t seen Rafe yet. I ran into Sarah and Wheezie, they said I looked amazing. Wheezie said she misses me, and that she was angry at Rafe. I’m not angry anymore, it’s hard to describe what I feel. I miss what we had, but I try to remind myself it wasn’t real. Is it loss? Am I still brokenhearted? I feel a longing, but it can’t be for Rafe. It can’t be. I was so lost in my thoughts I wasn’t paying attention to where I was walking as I turned the corner and bumped into someone. They grabbed my waist to steady me as I almost fell.

“Shit, I’m sorry, are you oka-” The stranger spoke at the same time as me. 

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going. Are you oka-” I paused as I looked up to see Rafe. We both froze as if time stopped. We didn’t know what to do. Suddenly we both jumped away from each other as if we touched lava. We both stood there mouths agape trying to form words and couldn’t. I panicked and ran away. 

I rushed into the bathroom breathing heavily. In my head when I pictured running into him it was by seeing him from afar, not literally running into him. It threw me off. My confidence faltered and my head felt scrambled. I was gripping the sink looking down muttering to myself. The other women in here probably thought I was crazy. I couldn’t stop thinking about his hands on my waist and I felt the ghost of them still there. I thought about how good he looked in that suit. Moving on is a lot harder than I thought it was. Do I miss him? No. Stop it. He hurt you. I finally looked up into the mirror and almost fainted thinking I saw a ghost behind me. 

Ward Cameron.

“Y/N, you look like you’re going through something but you ran into the men’s room” He said. I almost died of embarrassment. Thankfully no one else was in here. This all felt like a dream and my head was still foggy.

“Oh my gosh I’m so sorry. I-I thought this was- Shit, I wasn’t paying attention. I-I was running and-” I rambled, fumbling over my words. I hurried back out to the hallway. Ward followed me out.

“Are you okay? You look really pale, are you sick?” He asked concernedly.

“Yeah I’m fine I just, I- threw me off- bumped into him- fuck” I scrambled for the words as I slapped my forehead. Ward offered me a weak smile.

“I take it you ran into my son?” He asked.

“Literally. Physically.” I sighed.

“You know, Rafe and I, we don’t talk much. He doesn’t tell me things. But I want to say this: Rafe didn’t have to tell me that he loved you. I saw it. Now I don’t know what happened between you two, but it really tore him up, and I think you both need to talk. He hasn’t been the same since. And clearly you need a resolution to this too. I saw your face at the country club when you spotted us and your sigh seeing he wasn’t there. You may feign that as relief, but I saw disappointment. You’re your own person, so do what you want, but I think you need a conversation. Have a good rest of your night.” He smiled and walked away as I was left speechless.

Could Ward be right about Rafe? I don’t even know what to think anymore. I have so many unanswered questions. I think back to what Topper had said, about Rafe staying with me even after the bet ended. He said it was to keep fucking me for longer, but he was angry. Did Rafe want to keep dating me or keep using me? Maybe he truly did love me. I felt insane. Ward and Sarah were right, I really need to talk to Rafe. For my sanity, I need answers. I need closure. I can’t focus on this right now, I have to finish working. I took a deep breath to try to focus and headed back to the deck.

I felt eyes on me. Rafe and I kept catching each other’s eyes all night. I could feel the awkward tension. I just wanted this night to be over. I was considering quitting after Midsummers, try to find another job. If I don’t run the risk of running into Rafe or his family as much, maybe I’ll stop thinking about him. Or maybe I want to run into him. It’s all so confusing, I’ve never been more frustrated in my life. Slowly, the Kooks started to go home and we started cleaning up. The Camerons were some of the last people here, finishing up their conversations with the stragglers. I finished cleaning my area and was ready to go home. I needed to clear my head first, so I started towards the dock. Listening to the waves and looking out over the sea will help me think.

I sat on the edge of the dock letting my feet hang over and took a deep breath. I stared out at the sky, focusing on the constellations and the moon. I almost felt at peace. Almost. My mind was still racing, but my thoughts were cut short by a voice from behind me.

“Y/N?” I turned around to see Rafe. “I know you probably don’t want to see me, but can we please talk?” He asked hopefully. I paused for a minute, I was dreading this moment but knew we both needed it.

“Fine.” I said shortly and he moved to sit on the edge of the dock a safe distance from me. We were silent for a moment before he began.

“I’m sorry.” Was all he said. I didn’t respond. I could feel him looking at me, but I looked down as I nervously played with my hands. “I wish I could tell you that the bet was a lie, but it’s not. I just- I’m so sorry, I-”

“Why?” I cut him off. “Why did you think it was okay to play with my feelings like that? To act like I’m not a person with emotions too. To plan to lead me on for three months just to dump me? You made it feel so real, Rafe. All for it to be one big lie.” I felt the tears welling up, all the repressed feelings coming back up again.

“It was real to me,” He whispered as I looked over at him. The tears forming in his eyes glistening in the moonlight. “I know how shitty it was to even accept that bet. When you didn’t text me for a few days, I was relieved because I didn’t want to go through with it. But then you texted me, and I felt worse. I was hoping the guys would forget about it and move on, but they saw it. I only planned on taking you to dinner to get them off my back and to stop it there. I could live with being a loser. But after our date, I just couldn’t stop thinking about you. Y/N, I know our relationship started because of a terrible reason, but those were the best four months of my life. I fell  in love with you, I felt so guilty when the time ran up. I made up some bullshit reason why we were still seeing each other so the guys would leave it alone. I was hoping they would forget about it, but they didn’t. I should’ve been honest with you. I want to say I shouldn’t have taken the bet but I would be lying. Because asking you out was the best decision I have ever made. I’m so sorry I fucked up and hurt you.” He put his hand on my arm. “When you say I made it feel so real but that I was lying the whole time, I never lied about loving you.” I stared at him, trying to gauge if he was telling the truth or not. Everything Ward and Sarah said, what Rafe is saying, I want to believe it, but I don’t know if I can.

“Rafe, you broke my trust. I just can’t tell if you’re telling the truth. And I don’t want to get hurt again. I don’t know if I can handle it. I really loved you but I still don’t know if you really love me.” I cried. I want to believe him so badly. My heart is telling me he does but my mind can’t stop questioning it.

“Y/N, I love you. If you don’t want me back, I’ll have to try to find a way to live with it. But I don’t know if I can. I love you so much.” He grabbed both of my hands in his as I stared into his eyes, daring to catch a glint of a lie. 

“Don’t lie to me,” I whispered.

“Loving you was never a lie. I never thought I could love someone so much. And I don’t care that you’re a Pogue. You are the hardest working person I have ever met. You care so much about other people, you forget to care about yourself. You light up every room you walk into. You’re the first thing I think of when I wake up and the last when I fall asleep. I never stop thinking about you. Every day since Topper’s party, I’ve felt haunted by my regret and wished you were with me every second of the day. I wish I could go back and fix things. I see you in everything I do and everywhere I go. You changed my life and I don’t want to spend any more days without you. But please, don’t say it was a lie that I loved you. And if you don’t want me back, I’ll  have to live with this mistake for the rest of my life because out of all the stupid shit I’ve done in my life, this is the worst.” My mind was racing. I wanted so badly for him to hold me again. To love me again. Would I be a fool to take him back? Would everyone think I’m an idiot for taking back someone who hurt me? My thoughts were swirling, but kept going back to the same thing I think I always knew but tried to bury down: I still love him. 

“I love you too, Rafe. I never stopped,” I started to smile. A full, genuine smile for the first time in a month. His eyes lit up as he smiled and we both leaned in. I was finally content again. You were right, Topper. We wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you and your stupid bet.

#rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #obx fic #rafe cameron fic #outer banks #outer banks imagine

[wardenparker]

Bright Lights & Broken Dreams - pt 2

Dieter Bravo x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst​

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+   Word Count: 30k Warnings: *Contains flashbacks*. Cursing, food/alcohol, drug use referenced underage substance abuse), controlling/abusive parent, false positive pregnancy, reference to underage sex with an adult, depression, really bad coping mechanisms, loss of virginity, praise kink, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal sex, protected sex, piercings, hand job, fingering, unprotected sex. Summary: The blurred lines of playing lovers and being lovers have been blurred for you and Dieter before, but it seems like this time you might be much closer to your characters than either of you want to admit. Notes: Guys this story came out of a silly little dream that I had about hanging out with a movie star and allllll this angst is what poured out onto the page. Keri is a magician at helping me unravel all my wild thoughts 🧡🧡 The play we used for reference as their Broadway show is “In the Next Room (or The Vibrator Play)” by Sarah Ruhl in case anyone is wondering!

It should have been useless to be anxious when you got to the theater that night, but you couldn't help it. After delivering terrifying-yet-somehow-still-exciting news to Dieter before your shift at the restaurant, and then that shift going disastrously badly because you weren't feeling well, you were just hoping you could talk to him and try to come up with some kind of plan. You'd been dating for ten whole months, for crying out loud. You love each other. Surely you could come up with some kind of pathway through your future that could allow both of you to have your careers and still love this– this baby that you had created together.

Baby.

For such a small word it's fearsome. The idea of being a mother is more daunting than anything you've ever faced in your life but with him? Dieter makes you feel like you can do anything. His praise is like armor that shields you from the world. From all the scary things and hurtful things and the things that make you unsure of yourself. With him, you're sure you can make this work. Which is why you sit on your anxious hands and wait. Wait and wait, wondering if he's running late to show tonight since it's well past call time.

******

Dieter’s hands shake, from the nerves, too many cigarettes and fear when the phone rings and his father’s name comes up on the screen. He should have known he would find out quickly. The Hollywood circle is far smaller than people believe and Baxter Bravo was still in the center of it despite his ‘retirement’ ten years ago. “Dad.”

"Dieter." The elder Bravo coughs halfway through his son's name and doesn't bother to cover his mouth, making a hideous sound through the phone line. "You got a call today, unless I'm mistaken." And Baxter Bravo is never mistaken. "It's a good role. Decent enough, anyway. I'm having the maid air out your room."

“Yeah.” Dieter hesitates, still reeling over your news and honestly piss scared about it. “I might not take the roll.” He admits, knowing his father will disapprove. “I just found out that my girlfriend might be pregnant.”

"Don't be stupid." His father scoffs, the derisive laugh making him rattle. "Of course she thinks she's pregnant. How else is that pitiful little corn-fed thing supposed to get you to stick around?" He had met his son's paramour only once – at the opening night festivities that he attended with an appropriate smile on his face despite loathing Broadway – and he had been glad to forget the girl's name immediately after. "You can't possibly think she's serious. Of course you're taking the role."

“Dad, I love her.” It terrifies him, but he actually loves you. It had started out as something casual, a way to feed his ego and to get laid but there was something about you. He hadn’t gotten bored within weeks like he had expected. And watching you mature as a performer made him give serious thought about giving up acting and becoming an instructor. The only thing that stopped him was dear old dad. “I’m happy on the stage. The audience is amazing.”

"I knew I never should have let you go out there." Baxter huffs and loudly smacks on the end of his cigar. "I know she's been an amusement, Dieter. And that's fine. But you've been bred for far better than some mid-Western virgin and a smattering of applause. There is no immortality on the stage, son. Besides which, I've already accepted the role for you. So you'll come home immediately and I will graciously forget that you considered being disobedient."

“I’m fucking twenty-six, Dad!” Dieter shouts, frustrated that his father isn’t listening to him. Though that wasn’t unusual. He didn’t listen when he told him he didn’t want to act at six, or that he just wanted to go to school like a normal kid. Definitely didn’t listen when he said he wanted to go to school for art.

"Whatever does that have to do with anything?" His father asks, confused by the assertion, but rambles on before Dieter can reply in any way or shape. "I've had the attorney inform your landlord that you'll be out in forty-eight hours, and your airline ticket is being held at the service desk for when you arrive tomorrow. Noon flight, and if you're late I'll have to pay a fee to have the fare transferred to another flight, so please don't be a nuisance about it."

Dieter closes his eyes and shakes his head. “No.” He decides. “I’m going to stay here.” He tells his father firmly. “I can’t leave her if she’s pregnant.”

"She's not, though." There's boredom in his father's voice, as though Baxter has gotten tired of even having to speak to his own son. "She's a poor girl trying to trap a rich boy in the oldest way possible." A lazy puff of smoke curls out of his mouth and he sighs drearily. "But I can simply cut you off, if you're so determined to prove a point. Raising a bastard child that may or may not be yours on the streets of New York ought to be fun for you. Homeless and self-righteous. Is that what you want?"

“My money is from my acting when I was a child!” Dieter doesn’t know exactly how the money gets to him, just that he gets a healthy check every month.

"Your money goes through me." The reminder is as dark as it is serious, making his father's chuckle on the other end sound even more ominous. "Every cent you've ever made has gone into an account managed solely by me, Dieter. One call to a doctor and I can have a conservatorship in place faster than you dial a telephone. Pack, Dieter. Pack and come home to take your rightful place here or I will force you to. Am I making myself clear?"

“Shit.” Dieter hisses, running his hand through his hair as he paces in the apartment he had called home for the last three years. Knowing that he can’t see you, he’ll stay if he does. He’ll lose everything.

“You are a Bravo.” His father reminds him when he doesn’t say yes right away. “You will do the right thing, you have a family legacy to uphold.”

Closing his eyes, Dieter's lip trembles and he imagines your face. Tries to imagine it when he tells you he’s leaving and the way you would look so heartbroken. He can’t. He can’t see that. He can’t do it.

“Yes sir.” Dieter responds woodenly, hearing his father’s satisfied grunt on the other end.

“See you tomorrow.” Baxter hangs up the phone, satisfied his son will do as he is told.

******

"What do you mean he's not here?" You're supposed to be face to face with Dieter right now. Places has been called and the curtain is about to go up, but you're standing with his understudy and the stage manager on the verge of tears. It's worry more than it is anything else. If he's not here, is he okay? Is he hurt? Sick? Anything could have happened.

“He got the call.” The stage manager knows the two of you are sleeping together, everyone knows. It hasn’t been a secret for the entire run of this play. Although he had expected Dieter to tell you what was going on. “He left for L.A. Apparently got the role of a lifetime.”

"He..." In an instant, your heart and stomach drop through the floor and tears well up in your eyes. "He's..." The words won't even come, even breathing makes you feel like you're going to be sick all over the floor. "He's gone?"

“Shit, we’re about be ready for the curtain.” The stage manager looks at you with a mixture of pity and worry. It’s obvious Dieter didn’t say a word to you and just skipped town. Hating that he had to tell you the bad news and potentially interfere with tonight’s production. “Do you need a minute?”

"Ye–I–I–" The prop on the table a foot away from you catches your eye and you sob, loudly and openly. The baby doll is all wrapped up and swaddled to open the first scene. Just you and that little doll for a full minute until Dieter is supposed to walk out onstage to join you. But it won't be him. It won't be him on that stage or anywhere else, you realize all at once. When that baby doll in your arms is replaced with a real one, he won't be there either. "Stall." You beg, finally forming a full word as you throw yourself toward the nearest bathroom. "Two minutes!" You're a professional. A real professional, but you definitely do need to go throw up and rinse with a half bottle of mouthwash before you go out on that stage. He left you. He's gone.

Hiding in the darkest part of the theatre, Dieter keeps his hoodie up, not wanting anyone to recognize him. He knows that he shouldn’t have come. It would have been better to just walk away clean. To ‘wipe the slate clean’ like his father likes to say after so many of his misdoings or affairs when they were done. Getting to watch you perform rather than being a part of it. You’re beautiful, your performance even stronger than it normally is when he is your co-star. Making him realize that you don’t need him. Maybe you never did. All he had done was hold you back from your full potential. Right as the last curtain falls, Dieter turns around and heads for the exit. Away from New York and the one person who he had honestly loved.

******

In the month since filming began, an awkward truce has settled between you and Dieter. You don't openly antagonize each other any more, or even give each other the periodic silent treatment. You've become oddly respectful to the point of making it uncomfortably polite for people around you. The way the two of you tiptoe around each other is like the polar opposite of the way your assistants have become attached at the hip during every second of downtime that they have. Sadie and Desiree are possibly the sweetest couple you've seen in a long time, and as happy as you are for them, it makes you ache in the deepest corners of your heart and mind.

Dieter is in hell. Pure, unadulterated hell. You don’t insult him. You don’t ignore him. You’re polite to him. Making his skin crawl as he remembers all the times people were sickeningly sweet to him only to want something, but he can’t figure out what you would want besides this movie to be done. Snorting coke only goes so far and he’s almost bored with getting blitzed every night after filming is done, knowing you are next door and hating himself for wanting to go to you.

"I wish you would tell me what's going through your head." Sadie had asked you this morning, when you blankly accepted the cup of tea she handed you. Your anxiety had been high lately so she had insisted on cutting back on your caffeine intake. "You know you can talk to me." You can talk to her. And you probably should. But the fact is that you can't really find the words for what you're feeling. Being polite to Dieter is the only way you can get through the day without wanting to go to him and you can't do that. So you've just sort of...shut down. Everyone on set gets perfect manners from you, and no one can see the riot going on inside you.

Sadie frowns slightly and sighs, knowing you won’t open up. Ever since that first night, something has changed. “Let me go help Desiree.” She slaps her hands on her thighs. “Make sure he didn’t OD.”

"Is it really that bad?" You can't help the way your head pops up at such a casual remark, or the fear in your eyes when it does.

“It’s not good. Something– I don’t know. Desiree said he’s just given up.” She told you that she would tell you anything about Dieter, but she’s been hesitant to bring it up. “All he does is sit in his room and get bombed on whatever he has. She’s had a hard time getting him to eat.”

"I thought he'd lost weight." It's not as though you haven't paid attention. You spend most of every single day with the man. Blowing out a breath, you shake your head and stand up. "Will you do me a favor, honey?" When she nods, you wipe your hands on your pants nervously and return the gesture. "Order a pot of green tea and three shots of espresso to Dieter's room, and whatever Desiree says his favorite breakfast is. It used to be French toast, but I don't know if that's still true." Maybe you can get through to him and maybe you can't, but either way, you're going to try – and just hope you can keep your head on straight while you're at it.

“Okaaaaay.” Sadie frowns but she’s going to do what you ask of her. “It’s your day off today.” She reminds you. “You have tickets to the Tower of London and that tea room you wanted to try.” It’s been rare to get days off with the grueling schedule and luckily Dieter has sobered up enough to put in a spectacular performance everyday but it’s been rough.

"If it's my day off, then it's his day off." Considering you have very few scenes apart, your schedules tend to be identical. They won't be separate until you get to the location in France. "I–" When you turn to look at Sadie your eyebrows are knitted together in concern. "I'm worried about him," you admit quietly.

“Desiree is too.” She confesses quietly. “He’s – well, at least he’s been somewhat normal on set, but it’s been something.” She shakes her head, thankful that her boss wasn’t going through something like Dieter is, although Desiree is protective of him.

"She cares about him." It's good to see. And you do like Desiree a lot – she's a kind woman with fierce loyalties and a huge heart. And she looks at Sadie like she hung the stars in the sky. "I'm just...he might not want to talk to me. But I have to at least try."

“He might not know who you are, depending on what he’s taken.” Sadie warns you, aware that Dieter has done that with her quite a few times. “It’s fucking amazing he remembers his lines and the blocking.”

"I have to try." You reach out to squeeze her arm and head out the door, just to take six steps in the hallway to knock on his door. "Dieter?" His name is soft on your lips and there's no answer, so you try again. "Dee? It's me...can I come in?"

Dieter stares at the wall, not moving, not blinking. Barely breathing. Lost in his mind, fuzzy and muted. Barely hearing the sounds coming from the door. Staring at a single spot in the wallpaper that doesn’t match the rest. The pattern is off, just slightly. Like the wall was damaged and had to be repaired.

It's Desiree who opens the door, face drawn in concern. "It's not a good time," she tells you gently, glancing back toward the bedroom where Dieter is lying almost entirely catatonic.

"Sadie said he hasn't been doing well?" You're not about to let her close the door on you. Not when you're this concerned about him. You know things have been off lately, but that doesn't mean you're detached from it all. "I'm not here to chat or play board games, Des. I'm honestly worried about him."

“I–” Desiree bites her lip and decides to be blunt. “What happened that night? Did you see him? Did you talk?” She knows something had to happen for Dieter to sink this low. You seem to be a trigger for him, good or bad, she hasn’t decided.

"I'm afraid there's more than one that night to pick from." You tell her when she steps back to let you and Sadie inside. "If you mean the first night of filming? Yeah...we...we ran into each other at dinner. And I...I got mad. It's not my proudest moment, I'm afraid."

“What happened?” Desiree’s heart drops and she bites her lip as she looks back towards Dieter. Unsure of how to snap him out of this particular funk. She normally can, but nothing is working this time.

"He had a sketchbook with him." It's really not anything you're proud of, but you're honestly shocked that whoever had filmed it in the restaurant that day hadn't put it online. "I–I saw him drawing me and I kind of...well, I yelled. We came back here when I insisted that he explain to me why he was drawing me and he...well," you exhale deeply, remembering the deep lines of hurt in his face right before he walked out your door. "It didn't go well."

She can’t even begin to imagine what Dieter is thinking, but she nods. “Okay.” She glances over at Sadie and bites her lip. “We’ll go downstairs to give you two a few minutes.” She decides, desperate to have her boss back and willing to do whatever it takes.

Silent hugs of encouragement are had between the three of you, and you watch Sadie and Desiree go out the door before you step back toward the bedroom door. It’s open but you still knock, not wanting to startle Dieter. “Dee?” From the doorway you can see that the room has been left to get messy along with his mind. He’s laying on the bed staring at the walls and you gulp nervously. “Dee, is it okay if I come in?”

Dieter grunts, hearing you although it sounds like he is in a water tank. Wondering why he hears you, you shouldn’t be in his room. The blissful feeling of floating is starting to wane and he knows that he’s coming down from his high. Must be his call time for the day.

When the biggest response you get out of him is a nonverbal sound, you leave your bag at the door and push inside with worry worn on your face. “Can you talk?” You ask gently, moving to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Fifteen.” Dieter croaks out. His voice is rough and raspy from not using it for so long. He always sounds a little hoarse, but it’s amplified by the cottonmouth the drugs leave him with.

“Fifteen what, Dee?” A deeply ingrained part of you just wants to reach out and wrap your arms around him but the fear is overwhelming. He might lash out or he might not want you here at all – regardless of you just trying to help.

“She was– was my father’s girlfriend.” Dieter tells you, tone flat and void of all emotion.

“Your father had fifteen girlfriends?” You ask, not understanding at all. Of course, you knew his father for a womanizing asshole, but not much else. Dieter has seemed to fear and revere him when he was younger, but you had only met the man once.

“N-no. Yes.” Dieter doesn’t know why he is thinking about this, but it’s what he keeps replaying in his head. “I was– fifteen when she– he sent her to my room.” His father had decided he was tired of his son being a shy virgin. So he had sent his twenty-one year old girlfriend to him to show him what to do.

“Oh god.” Dread curls on your stomach when you realize what he’s saying, and you shift closer to him on the mattress. “That’s all done now, Dee. It’s over. And he’s gone. He can’t hurt you anymore.” While the news of Baxter Bravo’s death rocked Hollywood a few years ago, you had paid it little mind. Now, though? Even that one little piece of information makes you want to dance on his grave when you get back to California.

“He had my money.” Dieter croaks, frowning and closing his eyes. “Threa-threatened to cut me off. If I didn’t– if I stayed in theatre.” His thoughts have shifted to his father, guilt and anger fusing together. “First time I got drunk was because of him. Eight years old at his party.”

“Shit…” He’s bouncing all over the place in his memory, and unfortunately there is a lot about his father that you just don’t know. But the piece about theater sticks directly into your heart – because the only time Dieter was in the theater was around the time you met. “When did he say he’d disown you?” You ask, trying to get him on a clear train of thought if that’s at all possible.

“I watched you.” His eyes open again and he turns his head to look at you for the first time. “I was in the back, I watched the entire thing. I couldn’t go without seeing it– you. It was your best performance. Without me.”

“The night you…” It’s an impulse, the way you reach for his hand, but your fingers tighten around his and the gesture feels so small. Not nearly enough, but you’re afraid to go further. “You watched the show the night you left?” You were broken that night – sobbing and sick to your stomach at every turn, lashing out at people who tried to take care of you because you were hurt and terrified. You couldn’t even let yourself drink after the show to numb the feeling because you thought you were pregnant. “Dee…” Your inhale is ragged. “It wasn’t my best performance. Not by a long shot. I was a shell that night.”

“It was beautiful.” Dieter insists, frowning at you, showing emotion for the first time since anyone entered his room this morning. “You were beautiful. And I–” he swallows. “I couldn’t keep you, no matter how much I wanted to.”

“Because of your father?” The pieces begin to slide into place in your mind, but the puzzle is still wildly incomplete. “Is that what happened?”

Dieter blinks, frowning slightly and then lifts his head. “Bambi?” He asks quietly. “Are you really here?” He’s talked about this so many times to a figment of his imagination he doesn’t know if you are real.

“Yeah, Dee.” You shift another few inches up the bed, keeping his hand in yours until you’re sitting right next to him. His eyes are glossy from whatever he’s taken but his words are coming a little clearer, and you’re hoping that’s a sign that he’s coming down. “I’m right here. I was…I’m worried about you.” There’s no past tense about it, but you bite your lip from saying anything deeper when he’s not entirely himself. “So I came over to check on you.”

“Why?” That confuses him. You hate him, you have every right to hate him after what he had done. Not just twelve years ago, but the way he had prodded at you and taunted you since then, fueling the hatred because it was easier for you to hate him than to delve into his losing you. “I– I left you. I left you for him.” He grunts, disgusted with himself for choosing a man who had never viewed Dieter as anything more than an extension of himself. Forcing him to choose the Bravo family dynasty and then dying on him a few years later, leaving a widow that was nearly too young for even Dieter to date.

“Because—” It sticks in your throat, choking you with truth and sadness and tears of regret. With anger and frustration. With things you have never said out loud to anyone before, not even Sadie or your therapist. “Because I c—care about you,” you manage to choke out, feeling the half-truth of it crack in your chest. The decade of anger and disgust really boils down to hurt and worry, when you’re honest with yourself.

“You shouldn’t.” That is the crux of Dieter’s issues. He knows he is completely unworthy of someone caring about him. It’s easier to not care when you push people away and they look at you in disgust. “I–” he closes his eyes again, humming to himself. “I love you.” He murmurs quietly, his mind settling and the rush of the high wears off as he fades into fatigue.

“Dee, can you stay awake for me?” You don’t know a whole lot about drugs or their side effects but you know that there are a whole lot of things that can make a person tired or even pass out, and you’re about as prepared for that as you are to handle what he just said to you — which is to say, not at all. You don’t know whether to trust it or not. Whether he would have said it at all, or if he would even come close to meaning it when his mind is his own. The best you can do is try to keep him awake and hope that Desiree sends up his breakfast soon.

“Hmmmm.” Dieter doesn’t want to, not when he is feeling this tired. “Bottle–” he gestures with one lazy hand towards the nightstand. “Red pill.” He needs a hit of speed to be ready for his call time. “Need.”

“What are the red ones?” You’re not prepared to give him more drugs, but if it’s an antacid or a simple ibuprofen or something, that’s different.

“First time I took speed– I was ten.” Dieter grunts. “Dad gave it to me. Needed to stay up for a night shoot.”

“Fucking hell…” If his father wasn’t already dead you’d be hunting him down yourself. How could a grown man do that to his child? “It’s okay,” you tell him quietly, putting your other hand over his. “We don’t need that today.” Or ever, but one step at a time. “We’re just going to sit together today, is that okay? Just you and me? Have something to eat and if you need to nap we can ask Desiree, okay?” At the very least, Des can give you a better idea of what his symptoms and side effects look like. She can give you some kind of idea of what to expect.

“Gotta–” Dieter opens his eyes again and gives you a soft smile. “Bambi.” He murmurs breathlessly. “Still so innocent.”

“A little less than I used to be.” In this, though? In the world of these abusive experiences and using drugs to compensate? You really are very innocent.

“Great ass.” Dieter groans, acting more like his normal front for a moment, but he means it. “I lied, your tits are amazing.”

You can’t help but snort, holding back an appreciative laugh because you don’t want him to think you’re laughing at him. “You were always a big fan of them.”

“Why did you rip my sketches?” He asks quietly, a question he has pondered for a long time but never asked. “Were they bad?”

“Because I—” Unconsciously, your hands tighten slightly around him, not wanting him to pull away. “I thought you were making fun of me. That you wanted to remember how much you had hurt me…and then I saw more and I…I was just confused as to why you kept drawing me.”

“That's all I have left of my beautiful Bambi.” Dieter chokes out, his face twisted in sorrow and remorse.

“Dee…” It makes you deflate, the confusion and the anxiety leaving your body so you nearly sag beside him on the mattress and shake your head. “You really loved me, didn’t you?” For years you had convinced yourself that it was a lie. That he had just told you what you wanted to hear and that he had never meant it. But the voice in the back of your mind that knew it wasn’t true seems to have been right all along.

“Told him I was staying.” He rambles, shaking his head. “Not going to Cali, but he said I would be cut off. Raising the baby on the streets. I’d be a bad dad.”

It doesn’t matter that the tests had been wrong – it was the fear that was real. And the fear that his father had instilled in him was real, too. “I’m sorry you were scared.” You murmur, still holding onto him. “I was scared, too.”

“I shoulda stayed.” Dieter huffs. “Been stronger. Always been so weak. You’re strong. So strong. Better than me.”

“It’s not about ‘better’.” It breaks your heart to hear him say that, and you shake your head. “We’re just different. That’s…that’s why we were good together. Balance.”

With his confessions off his chest, Dieter falls asleep, his soft snores coming out evenly with his breathing relaxed. Hand going slack in yours.

Once it’s clear he’s sleeping and not in some kind of stupor, you text Desiree to let her know that he seemed lucid before the snoring started and you sit back to wait. Unfortunately, you’re somewhat of a restless person and sitting while someone else sleeps just isn’t your cup of tea. So the compulsive cleaning starts. First it’s tucking him in properly, then dropping his rejected sweaters and t-shirts into the laundry basket in his wardrobe. It’s tidying his stacks of books, then art supplies, and scattered notebooks that you assume hold more sketches. It’s curiosity that does it – that same old thing that got the cat and now you.

The first sketchbook is the one you recognize from the sandwich shop, and you very carefully and quietly set to work taping the pages back in that you tore. The next has images of sets and landscapes – nothing out of the ordinary there. But the third seems to be self-portraits. Gruesome renderings of his own visage with gore and mutations, some intentionally missing whole chunks of himself from the image. Drawings where his chest has been torn open, or where he seems to have no space for a heart at all. It’s an overwhelming discovery, and you compulsively find yourself flipping through every single image until you’re sitting in the corner armchair silently crying.

Dieter sleeps for several hours without dreaming. Just the deep sleep of the exhausted. Until images of you start to creep in. Moments he has missed until he is running towards you and he can’t seem to catch you. “Bambi!” He moans, the word coming out gargled and far quieter than he has said in his dream. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

The second you hear your name – your nickname – your head shoots up from the book you were reading and you head for the bed to sit with him again. Desiree had said he said Bambi in his sleep and she was being honest, though he had always talked in his sleep from time to time before. “I’m right here.” You take his hand again, not caring if you wake him up. He’s been asleep for hours and he needs to eat something. God only knows how long it’s been since he had a proper meal. “I’m right here, Dee.”

You’re running away from him, making him run faster. Trying to catch you before you disappear out of sight. Until you leave him. “Don’t go.” He whimpers, feeling a pressure in his hand and he squeezes it in desperation. “Please. Please Bambi.”

“I’m right here,” you repeat, watching his face contort in the dream, and you find yourself wondering if it’s unsafe to wake someone from a nightmare if they’re still tripping. But since you have no idea if he is still high, you decide to say fuck it and put your other hand on his shoulder very deliberately. “Dee, wake up.” You barely keep yourself from calling him baby — cooing the way you would have years ago. It’s too easy to slip back into. “Wake up for me? Please?”

Dieter’s eyes shoot open, like he’s had a shot of adrenaline shoved into his heart. Reaching out and grabbing your hand on his shoulder. “Bambi!” He gasps before he realizes he’s awake and gives you a confused look, “did I– where am I?”

“The hotel.” You nearly jump three feet off the bed when he woke up, but you manage to keep your voice calm. “We’re in the hotel. In London. Does that ring a bell?”

“Yeah.” Dieter groans and looks around, blinking owlishly, although his vision is a shit ton better since the lasik surgery. “Did I miss my call time?”

“It’s our day off.” He hasn’t let go of your hand and you don’t let go either. “You haven’t—I mean I—” You exhale to let the shakiness out of your voice. “I’m worried about you. Desiree says you haven’t been eating.”

“What?” He makes a face and then gives a small shrug before he grunts and sits up. “Not hungry.” He murmurs, feeling like everything tastes like despair.

“Says the guy who used to be able to eat two entire cheeseburgers plus fries in a sitting.” Looking down at your joined hands, you’re not sure if coming over here was a good idea or not, but you’re here. You made the decision. So you’re going to stick with it. “Does whatever you’re taking make you not hungry? Or is it the depression?” It’s not like you haven’t dealt with it yourself. You know what depression can do to a person and you know it firsthand.

Dieter looks away guiltily, remembering all the times that his father would tell him that there’s nothing a snort of coke or a tight pussy couldn’t fix. “I just– nothing tastes good.” He says finally, registering that his mouth is dry. “I gotta–” he moves to get up, but you don’t let go of his hand.

“There’s water right here.” That, at least, you could have ready for him. The bottle is ready and waiting on his side table where you point to it. “Do you…” your voice wavers but you clear your throat. “Do you remember talking to me this morning? At all?”

Dieter’s eyes narrow and and despite the drugs that he takes, he unfortunately remembers it all. The curse of a photographic memory, though it serves him well in memorizing lines. “I told you about that day. And my dad.” He gulps down the water thirstily and sighs when it’s gone.

“You did.” He also said that he loves you – present tense – but if he doesn’t remember that part you’re not going to put more pressure on the situation. “I’m sorry, Dee. I had no idea he was so hard on you.” You knew he was strict, obviously, but some of the things he described were downright odious.

“I’m sorry.” Dieter rubs the back of his neck and sighs. Aware of what he had blurted out to you in his very honest dialogue. “You can just– pretend I didn’t say anything. It’s okay. I won’t blame you.”

“Do you want me to forget?” It’s a very touchy game you’re playing here, and you’re not sure which way he’s leaning.

“I know you can’t forgive me.” Dieter murmurs quietly. “But no. Use it to make yourself feel better about how shitty I did you.”

“It sounds like things were a lot more complicated than I ever knew.” The urge to just reach out and hug him is so hard to ignore. There’s always been a magnet between you and it seems to have been recharged as more and more information came to light today. “I wish you had at least said goodbye, but I get now that you didn’t have a choice in leaving. We…we were just kids.”

Dieter snorts and shakes his head. “I was a grown ass man. I should have told him to go fuck himself. Sued him for my money.” There've been plenty of regrets and ‘would haves’ where you and that situation was concerned. “If I had said goodbye, I would have–” he shakes his head. “I don’t know. I knew I couldn’t face you. I’m a coward.”

“He was abusing you.” If he’s been in therapy, then he knows that already. But the stubborn voice inside you refuses to let him get away with putting himself down. “Of course you were afraid of him. He did that on purpose. But Dee…” You shake your own head this time and sigh. “He’s gone. He doesn’t get to keep hurting you like this.”

“The ghost of Baxter Bravo always haunts me.” Dieter tells you. “It’s like a never ending A Christmas Carol.”

“Is there…” It sticks in your throat like lava, some kind of fear that you can’t name, but you manage to swallow. “Is there anything I can do? To help, I mean?”

Dieter shakes his head, knowing it’s not your place to fix him. He doesn’t even know if you can. He’d just drag you down with him. “Doubtful. Unless you want to show me your tits?” He asks hopefully, lifting his brows.

You roll your eyes, seeing his walls go back up and shut you out all over again. Making it clear that he doesn’t want you looking into that part of his life anymore. “You’ll see them on set in a week.”

“I don’t–” he sees the way your expression falls, the annoyance you are trying to hide. “Thank you.” He offers, swallowing. “Life is full of regrets, right?”

“I guess so. Or…I don’t know anyone whose isn’t. So it must be universal.” This conversation feels like a time bomb, ticking away to the point of oblivion, and you just don’t know when the explosion is going to come. You’d thought it was just a second ago, but apparently not. So you try a different olive branch. “I don’t like being mad at you, for the record. Even if we’re not…what we were…I still don’t want to hate you.”

Dieter licks his lips, eyes quickly darting between yours and he lunges forward, desperately pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that is needy and wanting.

It makes sense that your first impulse is to push him away. This impulse of his seemingly came out of nowhere, after all. The problem – or maybe more accurately, the complication – is that as soon as you register the fact that Dieter is kissing you, you become twenty-one all over again and hold onto him for dear life instead of using your hands on his chest to create distance. It’s pull instead of push, and the kiss lingers just long enough to become soft before your mind comes back down from whatever cloud it lighted on and you have to part for air.

He frowns when you pull back, wanting the kiss to go on longer, for it to never end. Opening his eyes with a small pout on his lips and wishing he could lean in again but your hand is on his chest gently keeping him in place.

“Wha—” With your mind going a hundred miles a minute, you feel like you’re spinning and holding on to him is the only thing keeping you from drifting away. “That—” One hand drifts to your lips to touch them like you’re not sure if the sensation is real or not. “You meant it, didn’t you?” Is what eventually comes out of your mouth, utter bewilderment obvious in your tone.

“Meant what?” Dieter asks, not sure exactly what you are talking about. He had meant everything he said.

“Before you fell asleep…” It’s been ringing in your head for hours. “You…said you love me.”

“Yes.” Dieter admits it quietly. “I don’t – I’m honest when I’m high. I have no filter.”

“I just…I spent a long time thinking you hated me. Or…or that you didn’t think anything about me. It’s…” You swallow again, fingers still tangled in his shirt. “An adjustment.”

“I’m sorry.” Dieter bites his lip. “It’s a – it's a safety thing. Push people away before they can hurt you.” He’s not proud of it, nor would he say that it’s right, but it’s what he does.

“I get it.” Shifting in place from mounting anxiety, you find yourself moving closer to him instead of just adjusting in place. “I mean…I haven’t had a relationship last longer than six months in…” You huff at yourself when you do the math. “In twelve years.”

He knows that’s his fault. He caused you to be that way. He had taken his Bambi, his innocent Bambi, and ruined you. He sighs softly and shakes his head. “I’m a piece of shit for that.”

“What happened was complicated.” That’s a very kind way of putting it, but you can’t bring yourself to be ferociously upset or angry with him anymore. Not now that you’re starting to have a picture of how bad the abuse was that he endured. “But it’s good to know that you didn’t do it on purpose. That’s…that means more than you know.”

Dieter nods, feeling like he should say something else but not knowing what. He’s not…good with emotional entanglements. Trying to keep everything surface level for so long had fucked with his heart. “I– that’s good.” He says awkwardly, his stomach deciding it would be the perfect time to rumble like Mt. Vesuvius.

“You need to eat.” It’s the spell that breaks the tension, and you sit back again on the mattress with renewed awkwardness. “I’ll, um…I’ll call for room service?”

“You don’t have to stay.” Dieter knows that you might not want to spend too much time with him. “It’s your day off. I doubt you want to spend it with me.”

“If you don’t want me to stay, that’s one thing,” you tell him honestly. “But if it’s up to me, I’d rather stay. I haven’t stopped being worried about you just because we talked without screaming at each other.”

Dieter frowns and wonders why you are worried about him. But he also doesn’t want to be alone. Instead he nods. “I– I need to shower. I feel grimy.” He knows he looks homeless routinely, but he does shower regularly. “Could you– could you order us something to eat? If you’re staying?”

“I’ll order some food, you go shower.” That gets you up at last, moving across the room to grab the hotel’s service binder from the table it’s sitting on in his front room. After a second you step back, hanging in the bedroom doorway. “Our assistants are dating, by the way. I don’t know if you know.”

“I figured when she snapped up the reservation she had made for me.” Dieter mumbles. And it explains why another woman had been coming into his room. “That’s how you found out about me talking about you in my sleep.”

“Yeah.” You nod slightly, but look up at him with a lopsided smile. “But you always talked into your sleep anyway. I could have been bluffing.”

He pouts, knowing that you could have been bluffing and he would have believed it, because he does dream about you. “True. But you burp in your sleep.”

“Which I’m pretty sure is the reason nobody sticks around more than a few months.” It’s a friendly jab at yourself, and you shrug it off. “Go shower. I’m gonna get us some food and let Desiree know you’re up.”

Dieter turns and stops. “Thank you.” He tells you seriously. “You could have just left me to my misery.”

“Turns out I might have a little soft spot for you.” A fact which is going to have your stomach, nerves, and heart in knots all at once.

“Don’t know why, but I’ll take it.” Dieter turns and walks into the bathroom, only pushing the door instead of latching it.

As soon as you hear the shower turn on, you call down for a sizable lunch plus a whole pot of the green tea he seems to be favoring these days, and then turn right around and call Desiree to give her an update. She and Sadie had gone down to Sadie's room to wait things out, and while you realize you might be calling in the middle of...things, it's worth the risk of interrupting them to let her know that Dieter is okay.

Standing under the hottest water the hotel provides, he leans against the shower tiles and closes his eyes. He doesn’t know why you are here, but he’s more relaxed than he’s been in a long time. His head is pounding but he’s not reaching for the bottle on the counter just yet. Groaning as the water beats down on his skin and he reaches for the soap he prefers, eager to scrub himself clean.

******

The day has been such a whirlwind that you barely know what's happened except that from rehearsal to dinner to the cab right back across the city, you and Dieter have been inseparable. He’s been so kind and so attentive, answering all of your questions about what it was like to grow up in Hollywood and all of the exotic places he’s visited. He’s told you stories from movie sets and all about the sunny beaches out West that just beg for anyone to enjoy them. And now – on top of it all – you’re sitting in the living room of his upper East side apartment with him with glasses of sticky sweet rum and Coke to drink while you listen to someone across the small neighborhood playing piano with their windows thrown open. It’s so romantic you could cry, or maybe jump for joy. You certainly wouldn’t want to cry right now, with his fingers grazing your shoulder gently – a little more every time they pass.

He doesn’t understand how you are still untouched, so fucking pretty and clever, sociable when you want to be. Keeping his own ‘losing his virginity’ story to himself because what can he really tell you about that? Instead his fingers trail over your bare shoulder, your tank top is a toy at times as he hums. Itching with the need to draw you, another talent he doesn’t talk about. It was highly discouraged in his household. Hell, the only thing that was encouraged was acting and being a slut. Living up to the old man’s reputation. But right now, none of that matters. All that matters is how your body inches closer to him and those kisses that you’ve been enthusiastic about sharing have turned slightly greedy.

The dam broke at rehearsal, of course. The script calls for a kiss and he had kindly suggested that it would make it less awkward in the future to share a few early on. That led to a fairly intense make out session in your dressing room, and now this moment on his couch. You’re so drawn to him – unsure of how or why this is happening but determined to make the most of it. Dieter toys with the strap of your tank top, sliding it off your shoulder and grazing his fingertips across the bare skin to make you sigh and shiver. It’s divine and slightly intoxicating and he has completely wiped every thought from your head except for him.

"You need another refill?" Dieter hesitates to ask the real question he wants to. Wanting you to be comfortable. "Or water?" He probably drinks a little more than he should, smokes some grass and pops a few pills when he isn't working, but he wants you clear headed for what he wants tonight.

“I guess water might be smart.” You fluster slightly at the fact that you probably would have just had another drink if he hadn’t offered an alternative. To you, that signals the end of the night – he’ll be walking you to the door and sending you home soon. But what a day it’s been.

He nods, reluctantly removing his arm from around you so he can stand to get you a new glass. “Let me get it for you.” He bites his lip, wondering what you are thinking as you play with your rum glass. “So how do you like kissing me?”

The straightforward question earns an embarrassed giggle from you, and you take the last sip of rum and Coke from your glass while you think of the least embarrassing way to answer. "A lot," you admit, hiding your flustered face behind the glass. "I like it a lot. But I'm sure I'm not the first girl to tell you that."

“No, but you’re the only girl I want to hear it from.” Dieter flirts, turning around and winking at you from around the corner to the small galley style kitchen.

"It's going to be a really remarkable show." The playwright is amazing, the rest of the cast is phenomenal, and you're basically feeling like an imposter being a complete unknown and leading this cast of incredible talent. The fact that you've had a crush on your leading man since you knew what a crush was doesn't hurt either.

“Yes it is.” It only takes him a few moments to get your glass and he brings it back over to you and sits down to face you as he grins. “Because you are in it.”

"You're so sweet to me." You put down your empty glass to accept the water and feel the heat rise in your cheeks. Between how he keeps flattering you and being nearly desperate to kiss him again, you feel like you're on fire from head to toe – and the center is that familiar and powerful want that starts between your legs and grows infinitely.

“I want to talk to you about something very serious.” Dieter raises his brows and looks at you playfully, in a way that he can only manage when he wants to know something naughty. His fingers find your bare arms and he strokes the skin softly.

"Okay." There has been no shortage of conversation between the two of you, which has been nice, but you call yourself to order for something serious.

“So we’ve been….doing this–” he motions between the two of you and bites his lip, aware that you might not be ready for something like this. “But….do you want to have sex with me?” He asks. “It’s okay if you don’t, but I really want you.”

"I–" The surprise on your face is obvious as you set the glass of water down carefully on the table beside you and turn back to Dieter on the sofa. The answer is obviously yes, but it's a shock to hear him ask out loud. And a shock that he would want you when he could have his choice of anyone in the world. The signals in your mind cross themselves, and you're nodding yes right away, but what comes out of your mouth is slightly different. "I'm a virgin," you blurt out, unable to stop yourself from being honest to a fault.

He had known that. The way you responded to him had told him that, but his half hard cock twitches at the words. “That’s okay.” He promises you. “It’s okay Bambi, I don’t mind if you’re a virgin.”

"You don't?" As far as you understood, that was the worst thing a girl could be. It smacked of being prudish or snobbish, and even though there just hadn't been any boys at home that you were interested in. In the city you had focused entirely on your studies. Now your studies have led you here...and to him.

“I love that.” Dieter confesses, sliding closer another inch, his cock throbbing now and he knows if you look down, you’ll see his hard on straining against the joggers he was wearing. “I want to be the first one to touch you, maybe the only one.” He’s breathless, as if it would be a treasure to cherish.

The only one. It takes your breath away unexpectedly, and you can feel yourself staring with your mouth slightly open. He's remarkable and magnetic and the closer he moves to you the more you move to meet him, and your hand tentatively rests on his leg to steady yourself. "I want you to be, too."

Grinning, he raises his eyebrows. “Yeah?” He asks, wanting to make sure. “You want me to take your virginity?”

"I've..." Your fingers dig into his leg a little, curling as you lean forward a little and nod. "I've dreamed about it." You confess quietly. Those dreams were long before you met him, obviously, but here you are.

He nods seriously and points to your water. “Drink up Bambi, I want to show you my bedroom.”

“I’m not drunk,” you promise him, but drink the water anyway. It’s probably good to give you a minute to cool down before you spontaneously combust right next to him.

He smirks and shakes his head. “I know. I just want you in complete control of the decisions you make.”

“Saying yes to you isn’t exactly a difficult decision.” In fact, you’d be hard pressed to think of any time or place you would say no — the idea of turning down Dieter Bravo is unfathomable.

“Yeah but…” he doesn’t mention that he doesn’t want you to regret it, instead he just leans in and kisses your throat. “I want you begging for it.”

Somehow you really don’t think that’s going to be an issue, and the whimper that escapes your lips when you feel his tongue flick across your pulse tells him so. It’s all you can do to gulp down the water remaining in the glass he brought you so you can have both hands on him as he kisses his way along your throat and shoulder, then back up to your jaw again.

“You want to go to my bedroom?” He asks softly, keeping his voice low and easy. Hands ghosting over your sides and grazing over your breasts.

“Yes.” The emphatic nodding would have given your answer but you whine on the word, making it come out strained and eager. Like you’ve never wanted anything more in your entire life. And maybe – as of this moment – you haven’t. “Yes—I—please?”

Standing up, Dieter drags you up into his arms and rushes you towards the bedroom. He’s lucky that he even has a bedroom, most apartments are studio closets like yours. He nearly picks you up in his rush to usher you through the apartment, and you giggle against his lips as he moves you. Dieter groans and giggles as he slams his shoulder into the door frame in his eagerness to get you into the bedroom.

You’ve heard things, because of course you have, from girls around you. About how the first time is always bad, or it hurts, or it doesn’t last more than two minutes. There are always plenty of bad stories in circulation as warnings. But you can’t imagine Dieter would be a disappointment like that. Whether it’s the rose-colored tint of brand new feelings or that very long-distance crush that you nursed for forever…or even just the surety that anyone who kisses as well as he does can’t be bad in bed. Whatever it is, you’re more excited than you are scared.

“Now.” Dieter collapses on the bed with you and rushes to kiss you again. “I’m gonna lick your pussy.” He groans, reaching for your leggings. “Don’t be shy and try to hide from me.”

For just a second you’re tempted to point out that he seems to like when you’re shy, but when you register what he’s said you end up gobsmacked instead. Almost every girl you know has bitched and moaned about their boyfriends hating to eat pussy — and here you are with an international movie star about to strip your panties off.

Some people call him selfish, and he is. Dieter can be a needy, selfish asshole but he also has a massive praise kink. Learning quickly from his first encounter that the easiest way to earn moaned praises is for him to service his partner. Making them willing to fuck him again the next time, so he is a man who will happily bury his face in a cunt or wrap his lips around a cock. Now, he pulls back to drag your panties down, spreading your legs wide and tutting when you try to close your legs. Sensing your embarrassment, he flashes you a grin. “Don’t worry Bambi, I don’t shave either.”

“I would have…” You mumble, heat flooding your cheeks that has nothing to do with arousal. “But I never expected this.”

“Don’t worry, Bambi.” Dieter scoffs. “I like the au natural look.” He promises. “It’s womanly.” He grips your thighs and ducks down to suck your clit into his mouth.

It’s a shock to your system that makes you tense up at first, keening at the sensation that is completely unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. No fumbling hand in your panties could ever come close to the sensation of hot breath and plush lips on your clit. Not that any of the boys that came before him ever even knew where your clit was. This is the kind of pleasure that makes your back arch and your brain shut off immediately.

Humming, he smirks against your mound. Reaching up to push your shirt up so he can reach your tits. Eager to touch them. He’s wanted to see your tits since he’s kissed you. You shiver under his attention, body responding to everything all at once and yet focused entirely on the places that he’s touching you. He grunts in disapproval when he feels you move, but it’s just so that you can peel your tank top off, stripping away your bra along with it to leave yourself completely bare for him.

Groaning, Dieter reaches up with both hands, filling them with your tits and massaging them as he spells his name into your folds with his tongue, making sure to flick it over your clit as much as possible.

The breadth of his frame keeps your legs pinned open, body moving in waves underneath him as you arch up and roll your hips down alternately. You’re trying to chase every single sensation possible as the pressure mounts in your core, unashamedly whimpering and moaning at every turn. By the time your legs are shaking you’ve nearly forgotten your own name, but you sure as hell remember his – chanting “Dee” in increasingly breathless moans until the damn breaks and your orgasm washes over you with an intensity you’ve never felt before.

For his part, he’s incredibly patient for a man in his twenties giving pleasure to someone else. Keeping his tongue sweeping over your nerves with practiced skill and precision, groaning when you shamelessly press yourself harder into his mouth. Wanting and willing you to come apart so he can witness the spectacular sight.

“Oh my fucking god.” Most of the time, you really don’t swear. It’s not a big part of your vocabulary, or at least it hasn’t been so far. But as the aftershocks of that first orgasm at his mercy roll through you, you can’t seem to form a sentence that doesn’t include a curse. “D—Dieter—shit…that was…” It was amazing, but you’re not sure if gushing about it just makes it all the more obvious that he’s the first person ever to make you cum that way.

He chuckles as he gives your soaked folds another lazy lick before turning his head and kissing along your thigh. “You enjoy that, Bambi? I fucking love the way you taste. So sweet for me.”

“You’re so fucking incredible.” Without him holding you in place, you easily twist down the bed to meet him, eagerly tasting your own essence on his lips and tongue. Some people might not like it – most men you’ve known say they don’t – but you don’t care. All you care about right now is being as close to him as possible.

The kiss is messy, frantic. Aided by your fingers pulling at his clothes. The role of shy virgin peeled away and he’s left with his Bambi who is desperate for him. Dieter groans, hating that his lips break away from yours long enough to pull his shirt over his head, he has to be the one thinking rationally. “Condom.” He gasps, nearly whining when you cup him through his pants.

Like a shock to your system, you pull your hand back immediately and look guiltily away. Since you never thought anything like this could happen in a million years, you certainly didn’t come prepared. “Shit…” the murmur that passes your lips is fully regretful and your face drops.

“No.” Dieter cups your cheeks and presses his lips to yours firmly. “I need to get a condom.” He clarifies. “I have one.” He keeps them in his dresser. He was just so overwhelmed he was reminding himself he needed to protect you.

“Oh.” Your whole face burns in embarrassment, but he doesn’t let you look away. “Right. I—I knew that—”

“It’s not on you to provide condoms.” Dieter has a fucked up view on sex and love, but he had always been taught to fucking wrap it up. His father didn’t want scandals about his son catching the clap.

“Okay.” Taking it as fact from someone who knows far better than you, you nod your understanding and tentatively press in to kiss him softly. “Whatever you say.”

He smirks, wonderfully entranced with your easy acceptance and he shuffles over, still kissing you so that he can open the small nightstand and pull out a ribbon of condoms. “Fuck baby, you’re so good to me.” He groans. “Lay back. Let me get this on.”

There is no instinct in you to question him or the situation. Absolutely nothing matters more here or now than him, and you just naturally assume that you aren’t the only girl to have ever felt that way. After all, how could you be? He’s a movie star. Of course he’s had sex with plenty of other people. But your mind rings with him saying he wants to be the only one to touch you and it’s the most utterly special you’ve ever felt in your life.

Dieter hops off the bed and smirks, making a little show of stripping off his pants and underwear. Watching your eyes widen gives him a quick ego stroke. Ripping open the foil packet with his teeth, he frowns slightly as he rolls the rubber down his length and strokes himself a few quick times. “Are you ready?”

It’s not like you’ve never seen a dick before – you’ve had boyfriends after all – but this is more significant than a hand job after prom or messing around on spring break. This is something you’re going to remember for the rest of your life. And you couldn’t be happier that it’s him, feeling like a string exists between the two of you that will keep you tied together forever. “I’m ready.”

Dieter climbs back onto the bed, his protected cock swinging underneath him as he slots himself into the cradle of your thighs. Taking his time to kiss you softly, letting it build up as if you have all the time in the world. The muted taste of rum on your tongue and your need are intoxicating and making him feel drunk off of you.

Desire outweighs your nerves, teaching your body how to move without the need for more formal instructions. Your hands wander and your hips roll, lips trailing down the column of his neck and tracing the prominent veins there in an attempt to memorize him completely. If he was handsome before – and he definitely was – he’s stunning now, moaning in your ear when your fingernails graze over his chest and scrape his nipple — which you somehow hadn’t realized was pierced in the darkness of his bedroom.

“Shit.” He hisses, cock throbbing at the sharp burst of pleasure. He rocks his hips forward, cock laying between your lips. “So sexy.” He moans quietly into your mouth when you find each other in the darkness again.

“What is?” You hum into the kiss, feeling emboldened by his praise. “This?” Nails finding their mark again, this time you bring both hands down his chest to play with the sensitive buds.

“Fuck, fuck.” Dieter whines, snapping his hips forward to grind against you. “I’m supposed to be making you feel good.”

“You are, Dee.” The more he grinds against your mound, the slicker and more swollen your clit gets, making you lean into the motion more and more.

“You want me to slide inside you?” He asks, moans the question in your ear. “Break open your needy pussy on my cock?”

“Fuck.” Needy is definitely the right word, as you actually might combust if he doesn’t. “Please,” you nod frantically, rendering what he said about wanting you to beg. “Oh god, please do it—”

It takes just a moment for him to drop his hips and feel the tip of his cock catch at your dripping entrance. Your legs widen even more to let him in and he captures your lips again as he starts to rock forward. The feeling of fullness is indescribable, beginning right in the core of your whole self and spreading outward until even your fingers and toes feel different somehow. Even kissing him seems fuller now, although that might be from the reverberating moans you share as he sinks deeper inside your body.

“You’re so good.” He praises, breaking away from your lips so he can roll his hips back. “Tell me you’re okay? I didn’t hurt you. Tell me you are feeling this.” He begs quietly between kisses.

“You didn’t hurt me.” You promise him, shaking your head and brushing kisses across his lips and jaw. “Feels amazing, baby.” The little term of endearment slips without thinking about it. You might have been more self conscious or doubting about it if he weren’t inside you, but since he is you just relish it. The physical closeness and the intimacy of this moment that is so much more incredible than you could have expected. It is…different than you expected, though, and you squirm slightly under him. “So full, Dee. Fuck, I—does it feel as good for you?”

“So goddamn good.” He moans, ducking his head and tucking his face against your throat. Needing a minute himself shows how tight you get when you contract those muscles. “So good.”

The long moments – maybe whole minutes or more – that it takes both of you to get your breath back are exquisite. You start moving under him sooner than he moves on his own, not because you're impatient but because it feels too good not to. He takes his time establishing a rhythm. Letting you roll your hips up to meet his thrusts. Pinning you down every other thrust and letting you feel every inch of his cock as he pushes forward.

Every girl you know said that their first time was over in the blink of an eye, but this is practically lazy. Dieter is in no rush to have the night over with and though you're already climbing your way back up that immense mountain of pleasure, you're in no hurry for it to be over. You wrap your legs around his waist, feeling a little bolder every time he groans at the tight squeeze of your velvet walls.

He’s determined to make this good for you. Kissing and sucking on your skin. Groaning because he feels how your walls tremble when he rasps in your ear. “So good baby.” He moans. “You’re doing so good for me.”

You'll feel him tomorrow in every way that counts, from the ache between your legs to the bruises he’s leaving on your skin. You'll taste him on your tongue and have the ghost of his kisses left on your lips, and every time you remember how deep his voice gets when he moans in your ear, your toes will curl all over again. Tonight, though, as you gasp and keen, wailing his name into the darkness, you can't help the curiosity rolling through you alongside the pleasure. "Want to t-try–" Gasping between thrusts, your lips practically tremble at his ear. "More, baby, please. I want to try everything."

“We will, baby.” He promises, twitching inside you. “Fuck, all of it. Gonna do everything with you, to you.” He wraps his hand around your shoulder to have better leverage to thrust into you.

"Everything." It's a vast, bottomless promise but somehow you don't doubt him. Like everything that he's done is everything that you're aching to try, and the things that he hasn't are the things that you were always meant to try together. The new angle he achieves with his arms wrapped around you like this gives him the perfect opportunity to strike a spot inside you that you've never felt before – one that turns keening wails of his name into shapeless cries and shouts, too lost in pleasure to even find words to express how fucking good it feels.

Once he gets that response out of you, Dieter clenches his teeth together and concentrates. Making sure he hits it again and again, wanting to hear you squeal his name. “There it is. Oh fuck, you gonna cum Bambi? You gonna soak my cock?”

Without enough presence of mind to even be able to form the word "Yes", you manage a nod, clinging to him and moaning so deeply you can feel it in your toes. It feels like you're about to shake apart and yet if you let go of him for even a second you might crumble from the inside out. Orgasms have never felt like this before – like a ticking time bomb inside your body might go off if he just strokes that spot inside you one more time.

Rocking into you is as close to secular prayer as Dieter has gotten…ever. “Oh god, oh god.” Is chanted on repeat, barely able to keep his eyes open as works his cock in and out of your pussy, poised on the edge of spasming around him.

It takes two more strokes, not one, but when you fall off the edge of pleasure you manage just a single syllable - crying "Dee!" Out into the night and sobbing as wave after wave of pleasure crests across the two of you. Your whole body seems to draw him in, cunt clenching and arms tightening, legs twitching at his waist before you slip away into a sky of stars that burst behind your eyes. The poets were not exaggerating, not one little bit.

He is tumbling right after you. Pushing as deep as he can with a worshipful groan of your name. Thankful for the condom because he would have never been able to pull out in time as he fills the prophylactic with a shudder.

The rush of endorphins that hits a second later has you giggling, dusting kisses across his lips and every inch of skin you can manage while pinned underneath him. “I—” As articulate as you try to be in everyday life, words fail you now. “Wow.”

As soon as Dieter gets done, he’s burrowing into your neck. Becoming an adorably snuggly koala. Always loving the post coitus high that comes from sex. “So fucking good.” He praises, scattering kisses over every inch of skin he can reach.

“You’re amazing.” Still working to catch your breath, your legs may drop back to the mattress but your arms keep him close.

Dieter’s hand slides between you to hold the condom as he pulls his hips back, but he doesn’t make any effort to move beyond that. “You’re amazing.” He counters. “How do you feel?”

“Empty.” The pout you throw at him and the way you bat your eyelashes is purely playful, but you do already mourn the loss of not having him inside you. “I feel amazing, baby.”

“Yeah? Give me twenty minutes and if you aren’t too sore we can go again.” Dieter chuckles quietly.

“You’re on.” The giddiness of it - the lightness - makes you feel like you’re floating on air. Either every girl you know was wrong, or you now have the world’s best experience of losing your virginity.

“I think I’ve created a monster.” Dieter moans playfully, pulling his head up so he can kiss the tip of your nose. “Wanna stay tonight?”

“Of course I do.” In this moment, you’re certain you would stay forever if he asked you.

“Okay.” Dieter kisses you again before he starts to actually move. “Let me get this condom off.”

******

“Clear the set!” The order goes out after everything has been readied, everyone but essential crew retreating to other tasks to allow for intimacy on set. It’s a day you’ve been anticipating with immense nerves. These last two weeks have been complicated — more time spent with Dieter and less fighting has only left you questioning how you feel about him all these years later. Things had happened that he never shared. That you never knew about. And while he still hurt you, you can understand now why he acted the way he did. Maybe even forgive it, if he ever asked you. This scene is one you have been nervous for, not for nudity but for having to be almost entirely naked in a bed with Dieter? It’s consumed almost every thought for the last few days leading up to this shoot. So much so that yesterday when he sat next to you in your trailer, you erupted in goosebumps and immediately put on a sweater.

Dieter slaps himself, looking in the mirror at his reflection. While the lack of eating had cut some unwanted pounds off of his belly, he was still nervous about this scene. Crazy considering he was never shy about flaunting his body no matter what kind of shape he was in. He was nervous now because it’s you. Since that day, things have changed but he can’t say that you have forgiven him. The awkward moments are still there, but you are treating him like he’s a fragile bird with a broken wing. Which, he is, but he doesn’t want to upset the very relieving truce between you. His own dickishness to keep you at arms length had fallen away, with a quiet desire to be with you starting to take hold.

Only a few people are on set when you come out of your trailer, wrapped in a robe and striding toward the newly-finished bedroom set that makes your palms sweat. But you’re a professional above all else, so you hand off your robe to the only production assistant and slip under the sheets.

“Remember she doesn’t actually want you.” Dieter had actually agreed to the modesty sock, even though he tries to avoid it as often as possible. The last time he had a scene where it called for one, he had taped his dick to his thigh.

“You’re wearing it?” When he hands off his robe to the PA you can’t even hate yourself for looking. You have to work with this man. To function around him. You can’t hate yourself for looking, but you can curse yourself for being affected by him. “I half expected you to show up naked like the Emperor showing off new clothing.”

“Didn’t think you would want to see me in all my middle aged glory.” Dieter jokes, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck as he walks over to the bed. The intimacy coordinator is nearby but she had already said that she wanted to see how you organically greet each other.

“Why do you think I got here first?” You have to laugh at yourself, at least a little, being so anxious around the first man who ever saw you completely naked. It should be ridiculous, but instead your heart is threatening to beat out of your chest.

“Things have changed.” He also didn’t know what you would think about the…piercing he got after coming back to Hollywood. He doubts you’ve heard about it.

“You should get in.” Reflexively, you pull the sheets on the other side of the bedside to let him climb in, studiously keeping your eyes on his face.

It’s hard not to think back to that tiny apartment on the upper East side. Sharing a queen sized bed with you for months and thinking about asking you to move in when your lease was up. He has never told you that. Knowing it would just be another bittersweet symbol of the hurt he had done. Nodding, he slips beneath the sheets and settles on his back.

“I want to give you guys the chance to find a comfortable position organically,” Sam steps closer to the bed on set and crosses his arms over his chest. The director has no idea what has been going on between his lead actors, but he knows things are tense. “But you will have to touch. Sooner than eventually.”

Dieter twists his head and looks over at you, knowing that this scene calls for you to be on top of him. “Not like you haven’t been there before.” He murmurs quietly so no one else can hear.

You snort under your breath, knowing he’s right, and shift closer to him. It’s a simple matter of situating yourself above his waist, but you’re desperately afraid of giving yourself away when you do. Not that you might be aroused - being in a room full of relative strangers - but that he’ll remember the other things. Goosebumps and shallow breath, the way you squirm when something feels particularly good.

“It’s okay, Bambi.” Dieter knows that you are an accomplished actress. He might have a copy of every thing you’ve ever been in, but you are biting your lip like you are that shy virgin all over again. His chest aches with how badly he wants to kiss you. “You’re a professional. Just another day at work.”

“We both know it’s not.” It’s sweet of him to say so, though, and you hate the way it makes you ache that he’s started using your nickname in private again. It takes a deep breath on your part before you have the nerve to sit up, twisting the sheet around you for modesty and making it pool around the place you’re connected. It looks perfectly like you’re straddling him but you’re actually hovering a few inches north of where actual sex would require you to be. And yet? All either of you would have to do is shift once and you would be in place.

“No, it’s not.” Dieter can agree to that and his hand slowly slides up to hover over your waist. “Can I touch you?” He asks before setting his hand on your skin.

Goosebumps. You can feel them the second they happen, but there’s nothing you can do now. They’re there, and Sam has noticed enough to call for the heat to be turned up on set, mistaking it for you being cold. “We’ll never get through this if we can’t at least touch each other.”

“Figured I would ask.” He shrugs, not giving a damn if it takes longer than Sam would like. It’s more important that his partner is comfortable. He can’t flirt and joke like he would with someone else, because of your history together.

“And I appreciate that.” Tentatively, you let both of your hands down onto his chest the way the script had described. If Sam wants it changed, he can say so. Right now you’re just trying to baby step your way to even a tiny bit of comfort. “Are you…okay? I’m not sitting on you weirdly or something, am I?”

“I’m good, just let me…” Dieter slides his hand between the two of you to adjust the ‘sock’. “I’ll try to keep it under control.” He murmurs.

It takes a second, but the half-guilty and half-flattered grin that overtakes your face comes with a snort of amusement to cap it all off. You snort again, suppressing a giggle, and shake your head at him. “Good luck with that. He has a mind of his own.” Sam hasn’t said a word as he watches the two of you get comfortable, but even he smiles seeing you relax.

“Okay,” he interrupts gently. “Let’s just find the motion, before we add in the dialogue. I want you guys to see how easy or awkward or difficult it will be for you to switch places from here. Dieter, just go ahead and roll her over carefully, and that will lead us into the kiss and the rest of the dialogue.”

There is a thirty second pause. Ten seconds of that is Dieter staring up at you, as himself. Then the set of his jaw changes, his eyes darken and his brow pulls down just enough to signal a change into character. He’s not Dieter Bravo now, he’s the character he’s bringing to life. His arm swings around you and his hips roll, making a seamless transition to push you under him and as blocked out, his mouth fuses to yours in a frenzy of need and lust.

It’s acting. It’s all acting, you promise yourself, not letting yourself react in any way beyond wrapping your arms around his shoulders and returning the rapacious kiss. It’s false. Entirely the character in a way that the scenes of the two of you screaming at each other truly isn’t. “Hold.” Sam’s voice cuts through the tension, his footsteps on the wooden floor audible over the heavy breathing in the set. It might have been false, but it was still a kiss. “Try it again,” Sam insists. “Less forceful this time?” He hums while he thinks – a habit of his.

“Maybe we can get a beat of looking into each other’s eyes right before the kiss?”

That seems to be a good idea to the young director, and he nods. “Make the decision,” he tells Dieter. “I want to see you make the decision to have her.”

Dieter nods and resets, waiting for you to get back into position and covered like you had been before. It takes less time to slip into the skin of his character this time and the way he holds your eyes is more assessing before you see the way his face changes almost imperceptibly. Rolling you over again and the kiss is less forceful but just as passionate as the last.

This time your fingers are in his hair when Sam calls for a hold, and it takes you a second to come back to yourself, but the real problem is that kissing him again is doing things to you. You squirm slightly, hoping no one notices, and try to clear your mind enough to pay attention to whatever the hell Sam is saying. At the very least, you’re just determined not to make eye contact with Dieter between these rehearsal moments. It’ll give you away – but you aren’t even sure what feeling you would be betraying at this point.

“Something’s missing,” Sam is saying when you finally tune in. “There’s so much honesty…and I don’t…” He huffs out a sigh. “I don’t believe you. Either of you. When you hated each other, I believed you. The confusion, the yearning, the—everything else. But I don’t believe that when the cameras cut, you’re going to tear each other apart.”

Dieter frowns slightly. “What do you mean?” He huffs, not sure what the director is looking for. The way your hand had tugged at his hair with just the right pressure had made him start to harden. He had been working so hard on holding himself back. Not making it real.

“I mean…” Sam pauses, trying to suss out the right way to explain it. “There’s something about the other scenes that makes me hold my breath when you two get going. Something honest about them. But I’m not holding my breath now.”

“So you’re saying…” you sigh, pinned underneath Dieter and trying desperately not to react to what might be his cock twitching or might just be the fabric of the modesty sock against your thigh. “You can tell that we’re acting?”

Dieter mulls over the director's words, his fingers pressing against the divot of your hip and he nods. “We’ll reset and then I’m going to change it slightly.” He offers, looking down at you and silently asking for permission.

“You have an idea?” The question is more or less rhetorical, but he nods and you swallow your nerves. “Okay. Let’s reset.”

Dieter reaches down between you and removes the modesty sock and shoves it under the pillow to hide it from the crew as you adjust.

The second you sit up again to put your leg over his waist, your eyes widen and you look down at Dieter with an expression halfway in between murdering him and melting. Even if you'd never sat on his cock before you would definitely realize the difference between fabric and skin, and you swallow a gasp when you look down at him. "This is your idea?" You whisper, shifting on his lap to try to raise yourself up off of him so you're not sitting directly on what is now his hardening cock.

“Do you have a better idea?” Dieter shoots back with a snort before he grins at you. “Hey—”

Cutting him off by settling yourself directly on top of him isn't quite the victory you imagine it is, because you have to bite your lip to keep from reacting and end up pinching your eyes shut as you twist to wrap the sheet around you again. Thank god, at least, for pasties. No one needs to see your nipples bud and pebble with arousal. "This is going to be interesting," you murmur, looking down at him from this more-familiar position. There's a pretty solid chance that this counts as cock warming. Or it would, if your own modesty garment weren't in the way.

Dieter bites back a groan and stares up at you. “Do you want to have sex with me?” He asks, smirking slightly.

"The first time you asked me that, the answer was my virginity," you remind him extremely quietly, as if he might have forgotten what had happened then. The problem, though? Is that you want to say yes. You actually, completely, in this exact moment – you want to say yes.

This time, the expression is less the character and more Dieter. Letting his own emotions and confusing needs blend with that of his character, reaching up and cupping your breast over the sheet while he rolls you under him desperately.

You don't gasp this time, but whine. It's your sound, the one you make naturally, and the one that is automatic when Dieter grinds against your core. Your eyelashes flutter of their own accord and your hand reaches to grasp his hip in turn. The internal war of whether or not to succumb to him that your character is supposed to be having reads in your confused eyes as clearly as a neon sign, and this time when he leans down to kiss you, you meet him halfway there.

This time, there's a need that is more raw, realistic. It’s his need. His want that comes through the slot of his lips against yours. The subtle slide of his tongue into your mouth.

The hand you have in his hair pulls a little harder this time, your body lifts off the mattress and your other arm wraps around his torso to drag him closer instead of draping prettily on his shoulders. It's barely acting, in the sense that you're currently presenting as two fictional characters. That's the surface of what is happening, as you moan softly into his kiss. But the fact is that if he slipped inside you right now, you probably wouldn't hesitate to let him have you right there on that set. Which...is something you're going to need to think about later when your mind isn't completely fogged by desire.

Dieter doesn’t pull back, doesn’t stop kissing you. His hand squeezes your tit softly, knowing that there are thirty people watching the two of you simulate working up to having sex.

Neither of you heard the command from your director to hold, too wrapped up in each other and too overwhelmed by the pounding of your own blood to have noticed. It's only when you break the kiss to have a gasp of air and turn your head to the side for Dieter to trail his lips down your neck that you open your hazy eyes and see Sam standing there with his arms crossed and a slightly gobsmacked look on his face. "Well," he chuckles, when you snap back to reality and open your eyes in his direction. "That's more like it. Let's reset and get ready to roll cameras."

Dieter pants and closes his eyes, leaning down and pressing his head against your clavicle for a second before he moves over onto his back again. “That’s what you want?” He asks Sam, wanting to make sure he doesn’t need to change anything.

"See if you can add a growl without making it sound forced." Sam chuckles at the thought and steps off the edge of the set, bound for the chair with his name on it.

Dieter chuckles, closing his eyes for a moment and blowing out a deep sigh to try to calm down his raging boner. “Sounds good.”

“Need another second?” Since you know what he did - and have an inkling as to how thin the shred of Dieter’s self control can be, you don’t want to just hop back on his waist without warning. You’d either knee him in the dick by accident or end up making him moan out loud for real.

“I’m good.” Dieter knows that you are fully aware of what is going on under the sheet, and another conversation will need to happen. He will have to apologize to you. But for now, he reaches for you so he can be as close as he can be to you.

Onto his lap one more time, you wrap the sheet around your torso artfully and let the set dresser nitpick the specific placement of things until she’s satisfied and steps away. You place your hands on his bare chest and note with a frown that his own previously pierced nipple has healed through, but school your expression back into place when Sam calls for “Action!”

This time, Dieter gives the scene his all. Taking his need up a notch and just like Sam had asked, he included a small growl into the scene as he rolls you under him again and presses against you.

It’s a fucking miracle you can remember your lines or deliver then clearly enough for the boom mic hanging a foot and a half over Dieter’s head to pick up, because when Sam calls cut you half want to kick everyone off set and just rip the sheet away. “Let’s just set up for the next scene,” Sam instructs, sending the crew scurrying all around you. “Guys, you’re doing great,” he promises, stepping back up onto the set. “I want to try the image two ways – once spooning and once having you face each other. We’ll see which one we like better in post, okay?”

“S-sure—” You manage a vague nod, trying to remember what the next shot even is. Ah. Right. It’s him watching you sleep. The page in the script has whispered words of love and a kiss to your head while you sleep, and you had decided stubbornly not to read it ever again after the read through. The idea of Dieter ever saying sweet things to you again had been horrible at the time. But now? It twists deep in your heart how much you have to admit to missing those days.

The first set up is Dieter facing you. He’s managed to slip back on the modesty sock and his cock is only half hard now that the scene has cooled down and he doesn’t have his hands on you. “You good, Bambi?” He asks quietly after you get positioned.

“I’m good.” You have to be. There’s no option to go running off the set because you got horny and emotional during the last shot. “I just…” A soft exhale comes when you rest your head on the pillow next to him. “I wasn’t expecting Sam to want more.”

“No, no, no.” Sam huffs, like he has developed sonar hearing out of nowhere. “Get closer. You guys look like you’re politely keeping your distance at your in-laws. Sprawl out over Dieter,” he instructs you, coming back onto the set to look at things from the angle he wants. “One leg over his, hand on his chest. Intimate.”

Dieter reaches for you, pulling you closer and draping his arm around you. He moves closer and presses his face right up against you. “Hey.” He murmurs quietly.

“Hey.” It’s just a little whisper, but you smile as you flick your eyes up to look at him before closing them again when Sam pronounces the shot to be perfect. “You’re comfy,” you murmur before you can stop yourself, and squeeze your eyes shut in embarrassment.

Dieter sighs softly, reaching up and his fingers brush over your cheek. “Dee! Wait for the call!” Sam yells, making him drop his hand. That part hadn’t been scripted.

“Yeah, Dee,” you can’t help the way you giggle under your breath, like you ought to be sticking out your tongue at him. Under the sheets, though, your hand comes to rest softly on his chest after not really being sure where to go. It’s a small gesture of comfort between you, but it’s there.

There's a small grin, quickly squashed before you close your eyes and Dieter settles down. When the director finally calls 'Action!', he reaches up again to brush your face lightly as he watches your face. "I do love you." He whispers softly, "I'm not a good man, I don't know why I am the way I am. I don't want to say the things that come out of my mouth." He murmurs quietly. "You are my world, even when you aren't around."

Professionalism, you remind yourself, trying desperately to keep your eyes shut and not react at all even though you’re fighting every instinct you have that wants to surge up and kiss him now that that dam has been broken again. It’s all you can do to keep perfectly still until Sam calls cut and tells you to hold your position so they can fiddle with the camera position for another angle. Your eyes flutter open, lip bitten as you try not to smile too much. “Good line delivery,” you murmur quietly, looking up at Dieter from your place in his chest.

"Dee, Dee." Sam tuts and walks over. "You are a man in love." He stresses. "Obsessed and yet completely aware that you have treated your lady wrong. This is supposed to be almost like your act of atonement." He sighs and motions. "Reset."

“You okay?” The direction seems harsh to you, but you don’t want to get in the middle of things. Your only job right now is to not react, but you still check on him.

"I'm good." Dieter brushes off your concern and waits for you to close your eyes again. Channeling images of the last time he saw you twelve years ago, watching you take your bow on stage before he turned around and walked out of that theatre and your life "Action!"

There’s something Sam is looking for but he can’t quite describe it. There’s a feeling that he’s gotten from the other big scenes that has made him want to alternately jump out of his chair in excitement or apologize for intruding on such an intimate moment. That’s what he’s looking for.

There are tears in his eyes when the director calls for the scene to end. The dialogue changed slightly, more personalized. Words that he had wished he could have said to you so many years ago come pouring out of his mouth as his fingers fan your face, tenderly brush over your features as if he’s memorizing every curve and valley.

“I don’t think we need to do the other set up.” Sam decides, apparently satisfied with the set up and the reset he has just gotten. With his hands on his hips, he seems to look at you and Dieter in that bed on set but not see you at all. “Good work today. Let’s call it an early night tonight.”

Blinking, Dieter shuffles back from you as Desiree rushes over with his robe. "Good work, Dee." She coos as he sits up and shrugs into the robe. He's a little raw, unable to look over at you at the moment as the lines between his character and himself have blurred more than he had anticipated. "Thanks."

“Dee?” Sadie has your robe out to you barely a second later, and you thank her with a nod and a silent moment of eye contact before turning back to him. “Can we…um…can we maybe talk?” The last few weeks have been so careful – such a tiptoeing around each other – that you haven’t done much meaningful talking. Just surface level stuff or spending time together in relative silence. Now, though, you feel like you need to talk to him or you’ll burst.

Nodding, he stands and quickly ties the robe shut. “Ten minutes?” He asks, needing a few moments to try and find an emotional balance so he doesn’t collapse against you and sob. “Or back at the hotel?”

“I’ll meet you at your trailer and we can drive back together?” You’re afraid of losing your nerve if you wait too long, but you also don’t want to scare him. Dieter can be like a horse sometimes – he spooks easily.

Agreeing, he gives you a quick nod and turns around to practically run back to the safety of his trailer. Feeling exposed and vulnerable as Desiree rushes along beside him.

“Do you guys have plans tonight?” You loop one arm through Sadie’s on the way back to your own trailer, trying to keep your spirits up.

“Just a night in.” Sadie admits with a grin. The relationship is everything she’s wanted and to be honest, she’s not looking forward to when the filming wraps. “With Dieter behaving, Desiree wants to stick close by just in case and to relax.”

“So if I send a bottle of something bubbly and dessert from room service, should it be to your room or hers?” Seeing Sadie this happy has been such a sweet thing. She’s not only fantastically on the ball as an employee but she’s also been just a wonderful influence on your life in general, and you want to do everything you can to help that happiness grow for her.

“I think I’m staying in her room tonight. But you don’t have to do that.” She protests. “Dieter just has her room number memorized and he might call on the hotel phone since he likes that better than cell phones.”

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to.” At the door to your trailer, you unlock and push inside first to let her in after you. “You take such amazing care of me. If I can do little things now and then to make you smile, I’m going to.”

“Are you sure you don’t want us to come with you back to the hotel?” She had assumed you meant to ride with Dieter and the assistants ride together since the cars needed to get back.

“You and Des enjoy some quiet time. I’ll drive Dieter and me.” Amongst other eccentricities, the man hates to drive. It’s secretly one of the reasons he loves cities and having an assistant. You’re pretty sure he hasn’t been behind the wheel of a car voluntarily since he got his license. “I—honestly I kind of need to talk to him. And I haven’t quite figured out what I’m going to say.”

“The scenes were very…intimate.” Sadie answers honestly. “I know you are on better terms but talking will be good.”

“It was…a lot more intimate than it looked.” Disappearing into the tiny trailer bathroom to peel the modesty garment off your skin – thank god for bikini waxes – you re-emerge a second later and step into the little bedroom for clean clothes. “If not for that shred of adhesive, we would officially be making a porn.”

“Did he remove the sock?” Sadie asks, “Desiree swears she saw him remove the sock.”

Half-dressed, you stick just your head around the door of the little room to look Sadie dead in the eyes. “Oh yeah.” You confirm with a look of slight desperation. “Your girlfriend’s got a sharp eye.”

“Jesus.” Sadie shakes her head in horror. “I– what was he thinking?” She is still operating under the assumption that while things are better between you, you want nothing to do with Dieter Bravo once this movie ends.

“That it would be a more authentic reaction from both of us.” You shove away from the door again long enough to pull on your blouse and cardigan before coming out. “Which, let’s be fair. He was right. But I—” You blow out a breath and shrug your shoulders almost desperately. “I honestly don’t know anymore, Sadie. I don’t know what I feel, I don’t know what I want, and I don’t know what he wants either. It’s going to drive me crazy to do this whole movie without knowing when he’s crossing the line into reality and when he’s not.”

“Oh God.” Her eyes widen and her mouth drops open slightly. Realizing that her boss is falling in love with the man who broke her heart again. “Yes.” She decides firmly, nodding. “You need to talk.”

“The trouble is that talking to Dieter Bravo is like talking to a forest sprite or a fae or something.” With another shake off your head, you reach into the mini fridge for your water bottle and sigh after a sip. “You’re not going to get a straight answer, or if you do, it’s not going to be anything like you expected. And it’s going to cost you just for asking.”

“But you love him.” She murmurs quietly.

“I—” Most of the time, you really would like to think that you know yourself. The things that you want and the things that will help you be healthy and happy. Right now? You really don’t know if the thing you want is going to be good for you at all. “I don’t think I ever stopped,” you admit quietly. “I don’t think you can be as angry as I was with him for so long without there still being love left. That’s why it hurt so much.”

Sadie walks over to you, taking your hands in hers and staring into your eyes. “I love you, you are my friend and I want nothing but the best for you.” She assures you softly. “Talk to him. Be honest and make sure you know what you are getting into.”

“I love you too, honey.” While most of Hollywood would tell you that you were silly or overly sentimental for being friends with your assistant, but you hold her in a tight hug and let the tension roll out of you for a minute before exhaling deeply. “Okay. Wish me luck.”

“Good luck.” She’ll cross her fingers and her toes for you if it means that you can have a significant, meaningful conversation with Dieter.

Dieter’s trailer is only a few doors down, and you walk over together so Sadie can pick up Desiree at the same time. You swear it feels like walking out in front of a judge when you knock on the trailer door, but since you haven’t been sick from nerves in years, it’s still a win.

Desiree opens the door with a grin. “Come on in. Dieter is just finishing getting dressed.”

“Long day.” The sun has well since set, and if it weren’t for how tense the last few hours had been, you would probably be starving.

“It has been.” Desiree nods, having calmed her boss down enough to be able to change and interact like a semi-normal human being after a small cry. “We are planning on marking it an early night. And he asked me to order room service for both of you.”

“That sounds like a good plan. And thank you.” Desiree’s exceptional eye for details and time spent with Sadie means she zeroed in on your favorite foods extremely quickly and anytime you’ve eaten with Dieter or as a group, she’s been pretty on point ordering for you. Although, the last time that the four of you all had room service together, you had splurged on luxury items and watched a few episodes of Black Sails together. That was actually a very fun night.

Dieter emerges from the back bedroom wearing a pair of loose palazzo style pants, a t-shirt and a crocheted sweater with his crocs. Hair still wet from his five minute shower and his face shiny and free of makeup. “Hey.” He murmurs quietly when he sees you, rubbing his hands on his pants nervously.

“Hey.” It’s such a small word for all the big things you’re feeling, but you put on a smile and point your finger at the door. “I’ll drive. You can look out the windows or meditate on the way back if you want.”

Swallowing hastily, Dieter nods. "Thanks, you know how much I hate driving." Especially here he was always driving on the wrong damn side of the road. It was nerve wracking. "Are you ready? I'm ready."

“Yeah, I’m ready.” To drive, anyway. You have no idea if you’re ready for this conversation. At least the hotel isn’t more than a twenty-minute drive away.

“Okay.” Dieter is the last one out of the trailer even though Desiree locks it for him. Trailing behind you and waiting for some kind of sign about what you want to talk about. Fingers twitching as he reaches for the ever-present candy in his pocket.

“You’re not in trouble,” you murmur with a shake of your head, opening his door for him when you reach the rental car.

“Shouldn’t I open the door for you?” He frowns at the reversal of roles and the way that all the women in his life are walking on eggshells around him right now.

“I was just trying to be nice…” It makes you frown much more deeply than you expected when the small act of kindness seems to upset him. And within seconds you’re rethinking everything you wanted to say, wondering if you didn’t just get caught up in the moment with him all over again.

“I know.” He blows out a sigh and shakes his head as you put on your seatbelt. “I just – I don’t want you to feel like you have to take care of me.” He murmurs quietly. “I’m not – I should be apologizing to you. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not.” If you surprise yourself with the honesty of it, he must be shocked. “Not really. I mean…I could have told you no. Or to put the damn sock back on. But I didn’t.” Both of you are buckled in and the car is on, but you haven’t pulled out of the lot yet. “Maybe it says more about me than it does about you, I don’t know. But the last few weeks have really…they’ve really proved to me…” You blow out an unsteady breath. “How much I’ve missed you.”

He bites his lip, closing his eyes and wondering briefly if he’s imagined you saying that. He’s had auditory hallucinations when he’s detoxed before and it’s been nearly seventy-two hours since he’s done anything more potent than weed or ‘shrooms. “I– can you say that again.” He begs softly. “Please?”

Your hand reaches carefully over the console, covering his larger one but not pressing any further. Just simple skin on skin in the most innocent way possible. “I missed you, Dee.”

“I miss you too.” Dieter turns his hand over and squeezes yours when your palm hits his. “I– today was– it wasn’t my character.” He confesses quietly. “It was me.”

“Apparently, it was both.” There’s a certain amount of pride in your voice for that fact, and you squeeze his hand back more tightly this time. “But…I was sort of hoping you would say that…that I was right when I heard you through the lines.”

“I’ve never done that.” He shakes his head in amazement. “Never.”

“Not even the first day of filming?” It seems silly to ask, but that moment had felt so real. Hell, it had been real enough for you to go berserk on him at the tea shop.

Dieter frowns and tries to remember what the first day of filming was. His brows shoot up when he remembers. “No.” He shakes his head furiously. “Not– no, I– not even then.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t pull the slap.” It was unprofessional if nothing else, and you do regret hurting him. It had been such a horrible, complicated day. “I shouldn’t have hurt you. No matter how upset I was.”

“I deserved it.” Dieter can admit that. He absolutely deserved that. He had been hurt that you had seemed to anticipate it with glee, but he thinks you hadn’t enjoyed it very much afterwards. You hadn’t gloated, at least.

“This is the kind of stuff I wanted to talk to you about.” Carefully pulling the car out of its space and through the lot, you weave into London nighttime traffic deftly. “I just…I’m anxious as hell to talk about any of this. But I feel like the longer I put it off…I’ll psych myself out or convince myself that I’m overreacting. Or reading into things too much.”

“If I overstepped…..I’m sorry.” Dieter turns his head and looks out at the passing city. His heart aches when he realizes that he had been hoping for some kind of reunion of sorts but it sounds like you are not interested. “I know that when we are done with the press junket and whatever that you won’t want to have anything to do with me.”

“Dee...” His hand is still encompassing yours and you thread your fingers through his when you hear the heartbreak in his voice. “That’s kind of the opposite of where I wanted to go with this conversation,” you admit quietly.

“Wha—” he doesn’t trust himself to ask that question. Instead he just turns and looks at you in confusion.

“I don’t know how any of this will work with us now.” When you sigh this time it’s admitting to yourself that yes, this conversation is happening in a moving vehicle so no, you absolutely can’t cry during it. “We’re different people than we used to be in a lot of ways, but at the same time the fundamentals of who we are…well, they’re kind of baked into us.” At the next stop light, you turn to look at him and are so sure you see hope in his eyes. “And I don’t know how it would work. Or if it would work. But of all the things I regret, I don’t want to regret not taking a second chance when we had it.”

“You want….me?” Dieter asks, bewildered by that confession. “Like– another chance? You want to give me another chance?” He’s so confused, but his voice breaks. “Y-yeah.”

“I had planned on being more eloquent than this.” A whole speech had been forming in your head, rolling over and over as you tried to figure out exactly what you wanted to say. But in the end it has turned out not to matter. “I had this whole plan. I was going to have champagne and chocolates sent to Sadie and Des and to us and make it this whole romantic thing and I just…please don’t take the fact that I asked you like this instead of doing something absurdly romantic to mean that I’m any less sincere.”

“You wanted to give me chocolates and champagne?” His voice sounds awe-filled, as if he had never even had someone consider doing something like that for him. “We can still have them. I’ll order them.” He offers, squeezing your hand again.

“Then it’s you giving them to me and not me giving them to you…” The distinction is important to you, considering there was a time when you couldn’t give him more than a glass of water.

“I–okay.” He murmurs quietly. “Um,” he glances back at you briefly before looking out the window again. “This isn’t because you feel sorry for me, is it?” He doesn’t know if it would hurt him more or less than he had already been hurting.

“No.” The speed of your answer should probably speak for yourself, but you still keep a hold of his hand. “Pity isn’t a foundation for a relationship.”

His sigh of relief is quiet, but he knows you hear it. Realistically, he knows he doesn’t deserve another chance. Not after what he’s done, but you are giving him one. “Good.”

“It’s…” you steer the car into the underground parking below the hotel you’re staying at and glance over at him as darkness overtakes the car. “It’s because kissing you…even on set, even through the lens of characters…” Your voice is shaking as you park the car and you can hear it, so there’s no doubt he can too. “Kissing you today felt like coming home.”

“I’ve never been happier than in that little shitty apartment, wrapped up with you.” Dieter admits, swallowing down the thick emotions. “Not even winning that fucking Oscar.”

Now that the car is parked and things are out in the open, you sink back in your seat and unbuckle your seatbelt. “Maybe we’ll win one together this time,” you tease, trying not to think of the note he sent to your house after you lost a few months ago. That wasn’t really him. It was a coping mechanism.

“Yeah.” Dieter nods. “I meant what I said to you. You deserved it, and hopefully next time you’re nominated, you win.”

“You sent me a note that said ‘Whoops. Better luck when Meryl isn’t nominated.’” Actually saying it out loud makes you pause, and you shake your head at yourself for getting so wrapped up in seven stupid words.

“Yeah,” Dieter nods, wincing slightly. “It’s Meryl, I’m happy I don’t have to go up against her.” He huffs. “You would have won if her movie had come out the next year.”

“Come on.” One more squeeze of his hand and you let it go to pull the keys from the ignition and retrieve your purse from the backseat. “Let’s go upstairs? I’ll catch hell from Desiree if I don’t feed you, and that girl is scary when she defends you.”

Chuckling, he climbs out of the car. “She scares me.” He admits with a grin. “I think that’s why my agent loves her.”

“Your agent loves her because she is impossible for you to talk into your bed.” You grin at him as you round the hood of the car and hold out your hand for him to take again.

“That too.” He admits shamelessly. “Girl doesn’t like dick at all.” He huffs, smirking slightly. She had a knack for putting him in his place and it was something that was needed every now and again.

“She and Sadie have that in common.” The elevator to go upstairs isn’t far away and you let Dieter press the call button as you unconsciously lean into his side. “They’re very sweet together. I think Sadie’s nervous that you and I won’t be on good terms when filming ends. Like that would affect their relationship. I didn’t…I didn’t really tell her what I wanted to talk to you about tonight. Not all of it, anyway.”

“You aren’t giving me another chance because of your assistant, are you?” He’s joking, but he stares at you suspiciously.

“No.” The elevator doors open and you nudge him inside, pressing the button for your floor yourself. “I’m asking if you want to try again because I’ve…I’ve never loved anyone in the world as much as you.”

“There’s a reason why I couldn’t get a relationship to last.” Dieter admits quietly. “They weren’t you. And I fucked up the best thing I’ve ever had.”

“Well…” The elevator car starts to move and you shrug a little. “Better later than never. Isn’t it?”

“Twelve years later.” Dieter sighs, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. “I’m sorry, Bambi.”

“The person who owes us both an apology is your father.” Something which you will never get, unfortunately. “But barring that? I’d say…maybe we focus on the future instead of the past?”

The idea of a fresh start isn’t new to Dieter, they talk about that shit all the time in therapy but he bobbles his head, wanting it now. “Okay.” He agrees quickly.

From the elevator to his room, the two of you stay connected long enough to get inside and long enough for you to call room service for those bottles of bubbly and boxes of chocolates that you had planned for. According to the staff member on the other end, Desiree has already arranged your dinners. “I swear,” you hum, resting your head on his chest. “Between the two of them, they might start reading our minds.”

“I think they know us better than we know ourselves.” Dieter huffs, pleased that you have wanted to do something for him. “Um–” Dieter rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, a little shy about showing you his sketchbook since you had freaked out last time. “Do you want to see the rest of my sketches?” He asks quietly. You’ve done something for him, so he wants to do the same.

"Yes." They're intensely personal to him, you understand that now. It was something you couldn't wrap your head around before and you're embarrassed by how you reacted weeks ago. "I'm sorry I–um...is there any real way to repair the book? I'm so sorry, Dee..."

“I redrew it.” Dieter admits. “When I was – when I was high.”

"You've been doing that less." There's no judgment behind it. It's just an observation on your part. He's barely touched anything in the last few weeks, and nothing dangerous at that.

“You said you were worried.” Dieter explains. “I don’t want you to worry about me.”

"How do you feel without it?" Mostly you were worried that he was going to overdose out of sheer desperation or depression, but from everything you can see, he's actually doing okay being more sober on a day-to-day basis. Or maybe he's just a good enough actor to get through the daily motions of life on autopilot.

“I–I don’t know?” He shrugs carelessly. “Weird. It’s all too bright.”

"That's the pot. It makes you more photosensitive. Not to a degree that could hurt you, but just enough that sunglasses are good." You follow him through to the bedroom of his suite where he keeps his sketchbooks, shrugging your own shoulders in turn when he looks at you in confusion. "I–I did some reading. In case you started having withdrawal symptoms or anything like that."

“I don’t know if I should have known or shake my head at you.” He snorts. “I’m sure you could have asked Desiree. I think the woman has a binder of all the drugs I take and their effects.”

"I wanted to put in the effort myself." It means a lot to you, to be able to step out of your comfort zone for him, and it probably is an obvious clue that you still felt strongly about him far before you were able to admit it to yourself. "What if something happened to you on her day off? Or in the middle of the night when I'm here and she isn't?"

Dieter swallows and feels guilty for putting so much responsibility on you. “I’m sorry.”

"It's okay." Your hand touches his arm gently and you offer him a smile, not wanting to dwell on too many heavy things all at once. "Do you still want to show me your sketches?"

“Yeah.” Dieter picks up the book and hesitates for a moment before he offers it to you. Reminding himself that you wouldn’t tear it up again. Maybe you would be impressed with the sketches now that you aren’t angry at him.

Cradling the book carefully, you sit down on the edge of the perfectly made bed and smile at the fact that Desiree found time to make it – because he certainly didn't do it himself. The early pages of the sketchbook are rough images of your face with your eyes closed, followed by several more that concentrate entirely on your eyes being open. As the book goes on, the images become larger and more varied. A full page is dedicated to a sketching of you wearing a dress that you particularly loved – it had been in magazines, if you recall correctly. The designer was someone previously unknown who had sent you a thank you card for mentioning her name to a reporter. The ones of you smiling are the most remarkable, though. With nothing but pencils, paper, and raw talent, he's made you more lifelike in that book that you are in some days of your own life. "They're..." you exhale shakily when you flip to a page that shows you sleeping. One hand lays in front of your face with a ring on your finger, almost like a dream. "They're stunning, Dee. You're incredible."

“I–” Dieter reaches out and touches the binding of the book. “I bring this book with me everywhere.” He admits quietly. “Desiree never touches my backpack. I don’t allow her to. It’s my carryon.”

"You bring me everywhere?" It touches you far more than you can really say, sticking in your throat and making you swallow thickly.

“Yeah.” Dieter knows that it’s dumb, perhaps even creepy to someone if they were to think about it. “Just– wanted you to know.”

"I'm flattered." When you reach for this hand this time you press a kiss to his palm and smile. "And I'm sorry again for...for being so over dramatic about discovering them. You have every right to express yourself and keep your memories however you want to."

“I get it.” He hadn’t been able to recreate that sketch in the new book. Not wanting to see that look again. “I understand, I do.”

"Maybe in the future there can be happier reasons to draw." Trying as hard as you can to lighten the mood, you tip your chin back to look at him and waggle your eyebrows. "Or sexy reasons?"

“Yeah?” Dieter’s brows shoot up and he gets a hopeful look on his face. “Would you model for me sometime?”

"I'm surprised you never asked me to before." You chew on your lip, brows furrowing. "Or...did you not draw back then?"

“Not really. Nothing beyond doodles.” Dieter snorts. “The idea of Baxter Bravo’s son being an artist beyond the silver screen was never an option.”

"You can do whatever you want now, you know." Arguably, he could before. But abusive parents have a way of caging in their children that cannot be easily broken. "I mean...even if you wanted to go as far as quitting acting altogether, you could."

“What the hell would I do?” Dieter’s eyes widen and he shakes his head. Not even imagining what he would do since he’s not doing as many drugs and he doubts you would be interested in orgies.

"I'm not saying that you have to, or even that you should. You're an amazing actor, and you did deserve that Oscar." A knock on the suite door has you standing from his bed and putting the sketchbook back down on the blankets. "I just want you to be happy. That's all."

Happy. What would that entail? He frowns as you open the door, thinking about what would actually make him happy. You, for one. You would make him happy. He watches as they wheel in the cart of food and you sign off on the bill. “What did she order us?” He asks, striding over as the server discreetly exits.

"Looks like a roast dinner for two." The covered platters of beef, potatoes, carrots, peas, and Yorkshire pudding are as English as it gets, and the boat of gravy is steaming away happily. Beside it, the ice bucket of champagne and box of chocolates are a decadent cap to the meal. "She ordered us a celebration."

“Sounds good.” Dieter has showered but you are still wearing remnants of the makeup from the set. “Do you want to shower before we eat?” He asks, wondering if you would go back to your room after dinner or stay. Feeling off kilter from the way things have turned out. Who knew you would be the stronger of the two of you?

“Five minutes?” Considering your room is right next to his, you could be in and out in no time and come back in pajamas. “Everything will stay warm if we keep the lids on and…if today’s already been a lot we can just watch a movie or something. I don’t really mind…I just…” It feels so silly, yet it’s true. “I just want to be around you.”

“You could always shower here.” He offers quietly. “But – no, that’s stupid.” He shakes his head and waves. “Go shower and change. I’ll be right here.”

“Why is that stupid?” You tilt your head at him.

“You don’t have clothes and I–” he shrugs one shoulder. “I know that it’s dumb to not want you to leave for five minutes.”

“I—” Biting back the suggestion at first, a smirk ends up creeping across your face anyway. “If I shower after dinner I just…might not get dressed afterward?” It wasn’t so many hours ago that he was grinding against you in that bed on set and the memory is still making you a little hazy.

Dieter has been trying sooooo hard not to turn things sexual, especially given the way that he had finally been on even ground with you. Groaning quietly, he bites his lip. “What would you wear?” He’s a little breathless at the thought, remembering how you looked even with the modesty garments on.

“Um…I was kind of leaning toward wearing nothing? But I can borrow one of your shirts if that’s too fast or too uncomfortable.” The question makes you stumble a little, wondering if you misread any of the conversation that the two of you have been having. He had said that nothing this afternoon was faked, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that he’s ready to just dive into bed with you.

Dieter closes his eyes for a moment, lips parted as if he is in prayer. “I–I can’t guarantee I won’t get down on my fucking knees and beg to touch you,” he admits, cock twitching in his pants. “Fuck.”

The reverence and desperation in his voice has your eyes flicking up to meet his again, and your lips twist into a relieved smile. “I wouldn’t be suggesting that I get naked in your hotel room unless you were going to be allowed to touch me.”

“You– want to have sex with me?” Dieter asks, slowly opening his eyes. “Or– is this something where I need to make things up to you?” He’s had partners that have been more dominant and denied him an orgasm. He didn’t mind it, as long as he got to eventually cum.

“It’s not a game.” You never played psychological games with him back then and you sure as hell aren’t going to start now. “I thought…after what happened on set…that you wanted to?”

“I want to.” Dieter nearly makes himself dizzy, nodding so quickly. “I– fuck, I’m aching.” He admits. “Been hard all goddamn day around you.”

“Yeah…” You smirk a little, cheeks burning at the memory. “I noticed.”

“No one could get me as hard as you fucking could with a look.” He huffs, pouting at you like it’s entirely your fault.

“Well I’m very sorry.” You’re not. At all. And your tone would make it obvious even if you weren’t stepping closer to him. “I’ll make sure never to look at you like I want you again.”

“You better.” Dieter whines. “I want sex in my relationship with you.”

Just hearing him say he wants a relationship - any kind of relationship - with you is enough to make you giddy, but this little back and forth you're having is fun. "We generally had a lot more trouble keeping our hands off of each other than not, if I remember correctly."

“I am older.” He warns you with a grimace. “And drugs can sometimes make things…uh, not hard.”

"I don't expect either of us to have the same sex drive we had in our early twenties." That would be completely ridiculous, and you reach out to offer him a place in your arms with a soft smile. "Things aren't going to be the same as they used to be, and that's fine. We're different people than we were. For now, all I care about is that you're willing to give this a try."

“I want that.” He doesn’t have to think about it. Of course he wants to have a relationship with you. He’s wanted you ever since he walked away.

"Then...?" You hold out your arms again with a little shrug, still hoping for a hug or almost anything that isn't propelled by a script or a set. As intense as filming had been, and as honest, it was still not fully you.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that you want a hug and Dieter rockets forward to wrap his arms around you. Sighing softly. There's a distinct difference between how Dieter holds people on set versus in real life when he's only himself. When he's himself it's like being enveloped in the beaming embrace of summer sun. He's a blanket of warmth and comfort that could best be compared to hugging a weighted blanket. Your nose burrows into his chest and you let out a sigh that almost matches his, squeezing your arms tightly around him before just relaxing into him.

“This is nice.” He hums. Rubbing your back gently as he tries to stretch out the much needed hug.

"You've always been a sucker for cuddles," you chuckle softly, nuzzling against him as naturally as breathing. "Glad to see that hasn't changed."

“Didn’t get this when I was a kid.” He murmurs, not bothering to even try to move away.

"Glad to change that for you." The food can get cold, for all you care. Having him with his arms around you again is the most heavenly comfort that you've been without for so long. No one gives hugs like Dieter does.

He doesn’t know how long the two of you stand there, wrapped up in each other's arms. The comfort of the moment is one that neither one of you is willing to give up. Not until he realizes that it’s getting late and you have to be uncomfortable with the makeup and adhesives from modesty garments still sticking to your skin. “Go shower. I will set up our plates in front of the tv.” He offers as he pulls away.

"If you insist." It takes you a second to open your eyes, and even longer to be willing to let your arms drop from him. "I'm going to steal one of your t-shirts to wear while we eat, if that's okay?"

“Yeah.” He grins, biting his lip and congratulates himself on not immediately popping off with something dirty. “That’s okay with me. They are huge and comfortable.”

"I'll be right back." It's only a single moment of hesitation, but you decide that you've talked enough for it to be safe and you lean forward to kiss his cheek before turning to head through his bedroom to the large bathroom that matches your own on the other side of the wall.

Dieter rubs his cheek, grinning again as he rushes over to the dresser where Desiree had put all his clothes. Picking out the softest shirt he had that wasn’t currently on his body.

Some old habits apparently will never die, and you’re grateful to see that Dieter’s obsessive exfoliation is one of them. His loofah is perfect for scrubbing away the last remnants of the work day, and whatever fancy formula shampoo he talked about once in an interview that he now has a lifetime supply of, is divine. Five minutes in scalding hot water from start to finish and you feel like a new person when you step out of the shower. There’s a towel on the counter that you didn’t put there and you smile to yourself – an expression that only grows wider when you step out into the bedroom after drying off to find that he’s picked out a t-shirt for you. It’s soft as a feather and a nondescript blue-gray color that looks as though he’s worn it a hundred times or more, and you’re swimming in the stretched out cotton when you put it on. After a quick debate about whether or not to dig through your eternally over-packed purse for the clean panties you know are in there through force of habit, you decide not to. You’ve already talked about having sex tonight. If you decide not to? Well, you can put panties on then.

He has moved the dinner from the couch to the bed and back again nearly half a dozen times. Unsure of when he became this neurotic, he justifies himself with the fact that he wants to make things good for you. Despite you wanting him, he knows he needs to make up for the hurt he had caused you. So now the plates are sitting on the coffee table and he’s even dug out those candles that were in the large gift basket waiting in his room when he arrived a month ago. The small lamp, the only other source of light beyond the tv, already turned to a movie that he vaguely remembers you enjoying.

"I was only gone for five or six minutes..." When you step out of the bedroom to find the living room has been transformed into a little oasis of romance, you almost sigh audibly. Candles and dim light accentuate the still screen of a favorite drama he's pulled up on the tv, and your dinner is sat out in front of the couch with the ice bucket of champagne and two glasses standing ready. It's so sweet that it makes your face burn. "You went for romance and I went slightly slutty."

“I like slutty.” Dieter nearly shouts it. “I like it a lot. Slutty romance.” He nods, patting the couch. “Please tell me you aren’t wearing panties?”

"You want to find out?" Of course he does, but you can't resist teasing him a little. You saunter up to the sofa to sit down next to him and make sure to flash him just a tiny bit in the process.

“Shiiiiiiiit.” He hisses, eyes fixed on the apex of your thighs until you cross them. “Eating– we– we need to eat.” He reminds himself.

"Sorry if the waxing is a disappointment," you eye him as you both pick up your plates. "But those modesty things we have to wear are sticky and the last thing I want to do after a day of filming is pull out my pubic hair by hand."

“It’s your hair.” He shakes his head slightly and shrugs. “Whatever makes you feel comfortable.”

"I distinctly remember being told that you liked the au natural look because it was womanly." It's not as though you've forgotten a single thing from that night. It was one of the most important nights of your life. And happiest, honestly.

He smirks, remembering how suave that had sounded at the time. “That was good, wasn’t it?” He hums, sliding closer to you. “Smooth.”

"Considering how desperately in love with you I already was, you probably could have just grunted at me and I would have thought it was the sexiest thing in the whole world." It's honest, at least, and you lean into his side with the champagne bottle in your hands. "But it was definitely smooth."

“You’ve done really well.” Dieter compliments. “Your career is amazing and Heat Rush is probably one of my favorite movies of yours.”

"You've actually seen my movies?" It shouldn't surprise you, considering you now know he's had feelings for you all along, but it still makes you flush hot and duck your head before concentrating on uncorking the champagne bottle.

“I don’t watch my own movies, but I watch yours.” What that says about him, he’s not quite sure, but he shrugs and tries not to look too pleased with himself for you suddenly seeming bashful. “I was invited to a couple of your premieres, but I’d have ruined it for you if I had shown up.”

"Well, you're going to have to come now." Concentrating on pouring out two glasses means you don't have to look him in the eye, which saves you from looking him in the eye and letting him see how touched you really are. "Can't have my agent trying to manufacture a date for me when I can take an actual date to things."

“That might be better for you, considering my reputation.” Dieter knows the image that he has crafted for himself, so often compared his father.

Frowning, you had him a glass of champagne and examine his face before shaking your head. "Do you really think that I would hide the fact that I love you?"

“People will talk.” He points out, not upset about it, he doesn’t care what people think. About him. You are a different story. “Start a countdown for how long it takes until it blows up.”

"And?" The shrug of your shoulders is pointed as you turn to face him on the couch. "Worst case scenario is we find out we are very different people than we used to be, and we part as friends." A scenario – as you call it – which is highly unlikely because you doubt you could ever just be his friend, but if he decided that he didn't want to be with you after all you would take whatever relationship you got to have with him. "But if you ask me? It will be fun to watch them all eat their words one by one when we prove everybody wrong."

Everyone who has ever tried to ‘date’ him in the last twelve years has tried to change him. To make sure that his image is revamped and they prove to the world that they are the one who ‘tamed Dieter Bravo’, like they used to want to do with his dad and Warren Beatty. Although Beatty was a bigger prize since he had never married. Baxter was always sore about that. To hear you just casually say that their opinions would change is refreshing.

"I wouldn't start something with you if I didn't think it could last," you tell him, hoping that he remembers your policy of honesty in relationships. It had served the two of you well right up until the day his father stepped between you. "And...I would hope that you feel that same way."

“I just don’t want you to regret it.” Dieter admits. “You have before.”

“What I regretted was a situation I didn’t fully understand.” You put your glass down and sit up fully, trying to figure out if this is him telling you to run. If he unconsciously is trying to give you some signal or other. If it is, unconscious isn’t good enough. “The only reason I would back off now is if you told me that you didn’t want me for some reason. But the inability to see the future isn’t a reason not to try.”

Dieter nods and reaches for your hand. “I’m scared.” He admits. “I know if you walked away from me – hypocrisy, I know – it would kill me. Because I walked away and it nearly killed me then.”

“It’s okay to be scared.” Your fingers twine together and you squeeze his hand gently. “I’m scared, too. But…life is kind of terrifying on its own. So I’d rather be scared with the person I love than without you.”

Nodding, he sighs softly. “I know. I just–” frowning, he turns his eyes towards you seriously. “I’m tired of hurting you.” He confesses. “I’m worried that I will.”

“Then how about we talk about things?” It seems so easy and so obvious, but sitting down and having a serious conversation can be one of the most difficult things in the world sometimes. “Any time one of us is feeling off-kilter, or worried, or anything like that - we talk about it before it gets bad. That way we don’t ever get to the point of something dramatic or hurtful happening.”

That’s the smartest thing to do, but no one has ever accused Dieter of being the brightest. Still, he’s willing to do anything in order to make sure he doesn’t screw up again. “Yeah. Yeah, we should do that. And I– I’ll start writing down when I’m feeling off.”

"We can set aside some journaling or sketching time, if you want." You tilt your head at him, knowing he doesn't know you keep a journal. You hadn't back then. "It's...something I've been doing since I started seeing a therapist a long time ago. I don't see her very frequently anymore, but I've kept up with my journal. It helps me keep my thoughts straight."

He winces slightly. “I can only imagine what is written in them about me.” He’s not vain enough to think you’ve thought about him a lot over the past twelve years unless it’s when he runs into you and there’s some little spat.

Frankly, you don't want him to imagine it. There've been some truly not-very-nice things that you've thought about him over the last decade, but they all came from a place of being hurt. A place that you are very much not in anymore. "It doesn't matter anymore," you promise him, picking up your glass again. "What matters is that we are good going forward. Together."

He chuckles and lifts a brow. “That bad, huh?” He teases. “I deserve it. I picked at you to keep you angry at me.” He admits.

"It was easier to be angry than to admit that I was still hurting." You shrug slightly and take a sip from your glass. "But that's...that's when I didn't want to admit to myself that I was hurt because I still have feelings for you."

“I’m surprised you do.” He’s gobsmacked by that if he’s honest. “I would have imagined it would have resulted in you not pissing on me if I was on fire.”

"Love seems to be a very illogical thing." Nudging him to pick up his plate, you trade your glass for your own dinner. "Fortunately, I'm a stubborn and illogical person to begin with, so I'm okay with it."

Laughing, he shakes his head and holds up his champagne glass to yours. “To being completely illogical.” He offers with a smile.

“Here, here.” Now that is something you will absolutely drink to.

Once the mini toast is done, Dieter removes the lids off the dinner. “We should eat before it gets too cold.”

"What a very logical thing to say." You tease, despite doing exactly as he suggests. For the first time in ages, you might truly be relaxed.

“Can’t have sex on an empty stomach.” He jokes, feeling more at ease with the situation. You’ve never lied to him, and if you say you want to have sex with him, that’s the truth. “Have to eat dinner before I can have dessert.”

That earns him a half-snorted laugh as you take your first bite, and you shake your head at him. "Eat up then. I'm in the mood for sweets tonight."

“Yeah? You want to drink champagne and eat those chocolates while I eat you?” The idea has him twitching in interest, the lazy indulgence of it enticing.

"Oh, I just meant that I want you." He always has been, and still seems to be, incredibly sweet. That's part of what his anger and seeming hatred had stung so badly. "But if you want to be fully hedonistic, I'm on board."

“Been a long time.” He admits with a shrug. “Need to get back into the habit.”

"If I ever object to having my pussy eaten, call a doctor because I've been body snatched." You tell him definitively.

He snorts and then busts out into a laugh. “Sounds about right.”

Things really start to feel normal as you eat, joking at the movie and reciting your favorite lines here and there until your plates are empty. You creep closer together on the couch as time ticks by, pulled together with that same magnetic attachment that has always seemed to bring you together. Before you know it you're leaning into his side, fingers threading together and head on his shoulder.

There’s a sweetness to the moment that Dieter is reluctant to end. It could have been twelve years ago, the two of you sitting on his tiny loveseat couch in that apartment. Or in your dressing room.

"I missed this." It's a big thought for such a quiet moment, but you sigh into it and just let the truth of it settle around you. It's not a heavy or foreboding thought anymore, and that feels like a weight off your shoulders.

“Me too.” His hand slides around your shoulder and he pulls you against him even more.

"I'd suggest sleeping right here if we didn't both have the backs of people over thirty now." Back then, the two of you could and would sleep wherever you dropped. It was usually a bed, sure, but not always. One memorable night saw you falling asleep in his lap when you couldn't bear to tear yourselves apart after riding him.

He snorts and shakes his head. “We are getting old.” He admits. “Hangovers take forever to get over now. Do you remember when we used to perform while still drunk from the night before?”

"It's a fucking miracle I could remember my lines sometimes." Theater work really has differences from film work, and you giggle about it almost wistfully. "I think...I miss theater, too. I haven't been on an actual stage in years."

“Me too.” He hasn’t stepped foot on a stage since leaving the production you worked on together. His father would have pitched a fit and he didn’t have the heart to do it anymore.

"Can you imagine?" It earns another small laugh from you. "If we wrapped this movie and then ran off to play on a stage somewhere? Gossip magazines would practically sell our tickets for us."

He snorts and gives a fond smirk. “We find some hole-in-the-wall theatre in Nebraska and make it bigger than Broadway.”

"Would you go all classical on me and want to do Shakespeare and Chekov and Tennessee Williams?" It sounds like fun for once. Like something you could do without looking over your shoulder and making sure you're doing precisely what ten thousand sets of eyes want you to be doing.

“Why not? Or Oklahoma.” He chuckles, smirking at how his father would roll over in his grave. “Or do you think it’s sacrilege to perform that in Nebraska?”

"I think it's a sacrilege to perform Oklahoma! at all," you snort, enjoying the image of him in a cowboy hat regardless. "We'd do Shakespeare and musicals and classics and experimental whatevers whenever we felt like. The king and queen of Midwestern regional theater."

“Build a theatre that rivals Juilliard for performances for students.” Dieter slips into the dream a little more, enjoying the idea of it. “Teach the next generation of performers.” Hell, if he were honest, he thinks of you as a mentee of his.

"An institute for performers, staring with high school." There is a smile on your lips when you tilt your head to look at him. "Not kids. Kids should get to just be kids. No stage parents thrusting their children on our stages. We'd make sure of that."’

“Absolutely.” He nods in full agreement, hating being dragged around to auditions when all he wanted was to go outside and play.

"It's a beautiful dream, Dee." One that wouldn't necessarily be so difficult to achieve, given his multiple generations of accumulated wealth. It would take a little while to bring together the right people for a school, but a theater? The two of you could fund that yourselves without a lot of effort.

“It’s been a long time since I had a dream that was fun.” He admits softly. Smiling at the idea and tracing a pattering on your shoulder under the fabric of his t-shirt.

"Maybe it's worth going back on stage first to make sure it's as good as you remember?" Support is something that you know he hasn't really had, and that's definitely something you can give him. Your full and unconditional support for moving in a positive direction. Positive being whatever makes him truly happy.

“Yeah. It’s not good to just jump in.” He reminds himself, not wanting to jump in too deep, too quickly.

"But if you could..." He loves to dream - or at least he used to - and you don't want him to just box up the thought and tuck it away in his brain to forget about. "Where would you want to open it? Anywhere in the country. Or hell, anywhere in the world?"

Dieter frowns and considers it seriously. “I’m not really sure. Where would you want to go?”

"I mean, if we were really thinking about it?" You lean back against his arm on the couch and smile softly, letting childhood memories come through to the surface. "The theater that I did my first show at ever is in my hometown in Washington. It was this big deal summer stock left over from the 1930s or 40s, and they'd built up a hotel around it for a while. But the hotel went under and the theater squeaked by for a few decades more after it was demolished and..." you shrug slightly, knowing how nostalgic you sound. "I grew up in the mountains, so now it's this big, defunct theater in the middle of a valley. I wish it could be restored and turned into something great again. But I don't know if Snoqualmie, Washington is the place you want to build your legacy."

“That’s pretty cool though.” Dieter grins. “You get all the Hollywood types out there for the summer theatre program and then the local kids and kids who dream of theatre and can’t get the lessons.”

“Can you imagine?” It warms through you, the idea of your little town reinvigorated. “We get occasional tourists because they filmed some of Twin Peaks in my town. But a whole theater and a school? It would be something else to see.”

“That would be cool. Bring some more life to the area. Is it a nice vibe? I like a good view.” Dieter asks, not really caring about much, but this is the first thing that’s gotten him thinking about more than himself in a while.

“I thought it was boring growing up, but I like going back for the holidays and family stuff when I can. It’s pretty. And there’s something to be said for having all four seasons.” He sounds like he’s actually thinking about it, which makes you smile more than you would have expected. “If you decide this is actually something you want to do, I can help you look at different places. If…if you want me to, I mean.” It would be a drastic change in how he lives his life, and if he wanted you to come with him it would be a drastic change in yours. Who knows when or if it would ever happen. All you know is that it’s good for Dieter to dream.

“You would want that too?” He asks, surprised. Your career is taking off, still running like a freight train without the hints of or outright scandals he has weathered.

"I mean...I'm not thinking about taking a running leap out of Hollywood anytime in the next year or two, but I've definitely thought about what I would want to do when I get out. And I want to get out on my own terms, not because people have stopped returning my calls or because the only offers I'm getting are witches or overbearing mothers." You shrug slightly, nuzzling deeper against him as you do. "I don't want to wash up or fade away. I want to be present to enjoy every stage of my life. That's what I've always wanted."

“Whatever you do, you’ll be great at it.” Dieter knows that without even considering it very much. You’ve always had the raw talent that most people are in awe of.

"So will you." You're not about to let him think less of himself or avoid the very honest compliment just because he redirected the conversation. "And besides, if you decided to open your theater and drama school in my hometown I would certainly hope you would want me involved in things. It only seems fair."

“Oh it’s fair, huh?” He cracks a sardonic grin. “Because it was your idea?” He knows that if he did do something like that, he would absolutely want you involved. Your talent as an actor has only gotten better.

"Alright, maybe not fair." You have to laugh at it yourself, even a little, and bat your eyelashes at him. "More like...wishful thinking?"

“Wishful thinking.” He hums, enjoying the idea of you being interested in taking that on with him. “It’s something to think about. I think we do need more theatres.”

Empty plates and empty glasses stand by on the coffee table, and you smile from your place, tucked into his side on the sofa. It’s comfortable and also comforting, to be able to sit and talk like this. When you were young everything was about the here and now, but now that you’re adults the dreams are a vital part of pushing through each day’s monotony.

When the two of you are like this, Dieter wonders how the hell he had ever walked away from you. The way you calm him down amazes him, the nervous energy dispelled easily without the need for chemicals.

The movie ends soon afterward, not that you were really paying that much attention. You had talked all through the meal and maybe only sat and watched the last fifteen minutes. But those last fifteen minutes were calm and quiet and saw the two of you happily wrapped up in each other. It’s nice. It’s comforting. And it’s also making your skin tingle any place he touches you.

“Do you– do you want to watch another movie?” Despite having a call time tomorrow, Dieter feels like the two of you have all the time in the world. The way the sexual tension has shifted into something… more has him reluctant to give in to his body’s wants.

“If you want to.” Once upon a time he would have been tearing his shirt off of you at the first possible opportunity, but things aren’t the same as they were – and you have to remember that it isn’t a bad thing or anything to do with attraction. You’re both very obviously still attracted to each other if what happened on set is any indication. This is about being close again, and you reach to grab the remote off the coffee table to pass to him.

“Not really.” He admits with an amused huff at himself. “I kind of want to go to the bedroom.”

"Oh yeah?" The eyebrow you raise at him in sheer amusement comes with a smirk. "You thinkin' about asking me to come with you?"

“Hoping you would.” He chuckles. “It’s either that or I’m gonna need to go jerk off.”

"And that would be a damn shame." Nodding solemnly, you shift out of his lap and stand up before holding out your hand to him. "Come on, Dee. I don't mind leaving a mess for once."

He grins, remembering how you would want to pick up his apartment before going to bed when you were staying practically every night. “Yes ma’am.”

Your clothes from the day are neatly stacked on the dresser across from the bed, and the towel you used hung just as neatly in the bathroom. There's barely any trace of you here at all, but Dieter's marks are everywhere, just as they should be. This is his room and his space, and he's welcomed you into it. In some ways that first night together comes roaring back into your mind - but that night was a lot more about tearing each other's clothes off than this careful tiptoe of a dance you're doing right now.

“You still like the right side of the bed?” He asks, bolting towards the bed to pull the covers back. He wants you, he fucking aches with it, but he also wants to make sure you know that this isn’t just sex. “If you want to stay, that is. I don’t know. You might have a more comfortable bed than mine.” He jokes.

"Dee..." He's nervous, and you sure as fuck are too, but you cross the room to put both of your hands on his shoulders. "I want to stay. And I want you. It's okay. There's no reason to be so nervous." You should probably listen to your own advice. Oh well.

“It’s uh,” he shuffles and rubs the back of his neck. “It’s been a long time since I’ve done this…sober.” He confesses, looking mildly embarrassed at the way his life had turned out.

"That's okay." Far be it from you to judge him for coping with the stressful way things have gone for him. "It doesn't have to be tonight. And if it is, it doesn't have to be a marathon."

“I want you on top of me.” Dieter groans breathlessly. “I fucking loved when you would grind down on me and fucking let me suck on your tits.”

"So specific." Yet you can't stop yourself from groaning, remembering how enthusiastic and sloppy he would get whenever the opportunity presented itself. "We should get in bed, then."

He bounces into the bed, flopping on it like he is about to start jumping as he pushes his boxers down and kicks them off.

You can’t help it, you smother your face with two hands to keep from becoming a giggling mess and end up barely stifling a snort in the process. “Is that my seat?” You tease, glancing at his half-hard cock when you put one knee on the mattress to climb in with him.

He pouts and wraps his hand around his cock. “It was hard all day.” He huffs at you. “It’s gotta let the blood flow back to my brain sometimes.”

“Only sometimes.” You move closer to him, about to put one leg over his lap when you stop short and groan softly. “I knew I felt something,” you huff indignantly. With one hand, you reach out to wrap your fingers around his length and moan all over again at the way he twitches in your hand. The thing that has your attention, though, is shiny rather than warm. “When did you get your cock pierced?”

Dieter groans and his eyes flutter while he enjoys the curious trace of your fingers over the metal in his cock. “I– oh fuck, about a month after I came to California.” He admits. “Wanted to rebel and what better way than to get my dick pierced?”

“Enhances pleasure, I take it?” He’s squirming under the light attention and you shift to straddle his thighs while you explore.

“Yes.” He pants, cock now fully hard and curled nicely against his belly. “People– uh, seem to like it. And it feels really fucking good when someone plays with it.”

“Really good, huh?” You’re not as innocent as you used to be. Not by a long shot. And your experiences with men have been varied over the years. What you do know for sure, is that your experiences with Dieter were the happiest you’ve ever been. You tighten your hand around him experimentally, remembering how much pressure he used to like, and let yourself lean in easily to press your lips to his.

“Shit.” He hisses, muffled by your kiss and as soon as you lean in, he’s grabbing a handful of the overly large shirt. Bunching it over your breasts and dragging you closer to him while his tongue begs for entrance into your mouth.

None of the old feverish need for each other is missing from this moment, and it’s a perfect kind of ecstasy to realize that aging twelve years – a death sentence in Hollywood – hasn’t affected his attraction to you at all. You open up for him immediately, tongue sliding against his as you push your chest into his hands and start to pump his cock slowly in your hand.

The sounds that he makes breathe straight into you. Given up willingly and he kisses you like it is the last thing he will ever do. No one around this time, Dieter pours all of himself into you, giving into the need that seems to always come back to you.

There is no reason to hold back this time. No one to witness you or to have an opinion on what is happening except for the two of you, and you are the only ones whose opinions count at all. You shift forward, hand still wrapped around him and stroking his cock eagerly but now the heat of your core is hovering barely a hair's breadth away as you swallow every sound he has to offer you.

You still know how to touch him. His hands slide under your shirt, greedy for the skin he had wanted to touch but couldn’t before. Marveling at the way you still fit in his hands perfectly. “Fuck.”

"You let your nipple piercing heal," you pout, turning your head to kiss down the cut line of his jaw.

“Yeah.” He grunts when your teeth scrape against his skin. “Took it out eleven years ago.” He doesn’t tell you that he had almost had the damn thing ripped out by a jealous lover when he had been found in bed with someone else.

"At least you replaced it with something fun." Running your thumb through the dribble of precum at the head of his cock, you pull away from him long enough to suck the digit into your mouth and hum immediately, shutting your eyes for a moment while you enjoy the long-forgotten flavor.

“It’s supposed to feel good for you too.” He adds, like that had been the entire reason that he had gotten his dick pierced.

"I'm sure it will." You hate the way it makes you pause, but you lean in to kiss him softly and take an internal deep breath. "I...I have an IUD and...and I haven't had a partner in a while. Like...my last tests came back clean and I haven't been with anyone since..."

“I– the insurance physical.” Dieter admits breathlessly. “Clean…and I– it’s only…” he huffs at himself. “I haven’t been with anyone since I found out you were in this. And since the physical. I don’t get laid as often as everyone thinks.”

“We can change that.” One raised eyebrow aims itself at him and you can’t help but look amused with your own reaction. “I mean, it wouldn’t be all kinds of crazy orgies or random partners…but a world where Dieter Bravo gets laid every single night? That’s just about having a partner with a high enough sex drive.”

“Have you– since we– since I–” Dieter can barely think with his cock in your hand. He never could, the feeling of your soft skin gripping him so firmly, always making his brain short circuit into something magically blank to everything but the pleasure. “Orgy?” He finally manages, wanting to know if you’ve ever indulged in multiple partners.

“I–um…no.” The image that you built for yourself – the careful walls you constructed around the person you wanted to be seen as – would never have allowed you something so indulgent or hedonistic. Your image is modest and professional. It has been since the day you hit Hollywood. You were a Girl Next Door type in your first television show and your manager wanted you to keep that image. “But if you want—” You stammer, hands stilling as you try to sort out your thoughts. “I don’t want you to feel trapped with me, Dee.”

“No…no.” His frown matches the urgency in his voice. “That’s not– I wouldn’t–” He’s made a lot of mistakes over the past twelve years, but he would never push you. “If you wanted to, that would be one thing. But honestly?” He looks up at you seriously. “I would be jealous of someone else touching you. Like slapping their hands away to do it myself.”

“You always were a little greedy.” There’s nothing but fondness in your voice as you brush a tuft of stray hair from his face and lean in to slant your lips earnestly against his. “Possessive, I guess is more accurate. But…I’m not going to lie.” You flash him a grin. “I always found it kind of hot.”

“I wouldn’t want to share you.” He grins unrepentantly. “Never liked that idea. You were mine.”

You shift a little, cheeks on fire, and swallow a sigh. “Are.”

Quietly absorbing that new information, Dieter nods. “Then we are together.” He decides. “Just us. No licking frosting off someone’s tits or blowing the hot model from the shoot. Just us.”

“I mean…” Not wanting him to feel like he’s giving up his entire lifestyle, you take your hands away and wipe them self consciously in your thighs without even being able to tell if they’re sweaty. You’re just inexplicably nervous. Tonight had gone from sexy to serious very quickly. “If you want to lick frosting off my tits that’s completely cool — and if you’re doing a shoot for something, I will absolutely be blowing the hot model.”

“I just–I meant just us.” Dieter clarifies. “I want it the way it was back in New York. Me and you.”

“As long as that is what you actually want.” He has the biggest, warmest brown eyes and you just melt into him, feeling so freed by this conversation. The cage you’ve had around your heart for so long is finally open again.

“It’s what I want.” His hands squeeze your hips. “I think it’s what I always wanted when I could make my own choices.”

“We keep getting distracted with promises.” It’s endearing, and honestly pretty romantic, that as much as you might want each other, it’s the romance that keeps taking over. You cover his hands with your own and squeeze them gently. “Second chances don’t come around every day. I’m—I’m grateful for this.”

“I’m the one who fucked up.” Dieter admits. “I wrote you a letter, about six years ago. One of those twelve step programs where you write those who you wronged and don’t send them.”

“Did it help?” While you wish he would have disregarded the direction and sent the letter anyway, you know it’s more about admitting wrongs than reaching out. “To write it, I mean?”

“Not really.” He admits with a sheepish smile. “Because I knew that you still thought I hated you at the end of the day. I got baked the next day.”

“Then hopefully things will start to get better now.” It’s all you can really hope for at the end of the day. That things will return to how good they were between you since you know they’ll never be the exact same. Too much has changed, but it doesn’t mean that you can’t ever be that happy again.

“Okay. Now that I’ve brought the mood down, can we fuck?” Dieter whines, his cock twitching against you.

“Telling me you love me is never going to kill the mood,” you promise him, although you do laugh at the exaggerated pout on his face. Taking one of his hands off your hip, you carefully slip two of his fingers into your mouth and relish the way he groans while his eyelids flutter. Directing those same fingers down your body, you press the pads of his fingers to your slick slit and hum at the contact. No longer being shy about asking for what you want has its perks.

“Shit.” Dieter hisses, rocking his hips up so he presses the length of his cock against your cunt while he starts to rub your clit frantically.

If you had been thinking about it, you would have thought through it enough to expect him to go hard and fast getting you ready to take him, but all you had been thinking about was how good it would feel to have him touch you again. So when Dieter immediately starts rubbing your clit like he’s going for a High Speed score, you end up squealing and shaking against him in a fit of surprise. “Oh my—fuck— yes baby—”

There’s a magic to your breathy cry. Making him smirk and rub harder. Wanting to see if you can cum before he ever fucks you. You really had been planning on returning the attention while he fingered you, but the ferocity he goes into it with is enough to have your legs shaking immediately and your fingernails digging into his shoulders as your back arches and your hips start to roll.

Dieter doesn’t stop, not with you bucking and wailing on top of him. He bites his lip and watches as you shake, a sign you are getting close. “Come on Bambi.”

The tension coiling in your core is pulsing as fast as his fingers move, pushing you up toward the crest of your orgasm with force. You're on the edge almost before you can blink and rocketing over the edge with a high wail of his name that is barely muffled by burying your face in his shoulder as your body shakes. He keeps his thumb pressed against your clit while you buck and shake through your orgasm. Marveling at how gorgeous you look.

"Fuck." Cutting off your own groan, you dive into kissing him as soon as your body sags, wrapping both arms around his shoulders and pressing him back into the upholstered bedhead with determination.

“Hmmmmm.” He groans and kisses you back just as passionately. Loving how soft you are after cumming.

It only takes small shifts to move forward, knees bracketing his hips and core hovering over his leaking cock as you lose yourself in more kisses. Everything about this is better than you could have imagined and you just want to drown in it.

“Baby…please.” Dieter groans. “You don’t– you don’t have to move, just– just put me inside.”

“If you’re inside me, I’m going to move.” It’s a promise as much as anything else, and you reach between you to stroke his cock a few times before notching the head at your entrance and sinking down on him slowly.

Dieter's mouth drops open and he lets out a low, pained whine. Nearly shuddering at the heat of your cunt wrapping around his cock and gripping him like a vice. Not knowing how it's possible that you feel even tighter now than you did when he took your virginity, his heels dig into the bed in an effort to keep himself still.

"Shit, shit, shiiiiit," your head drops back the further down his shaft you slide, eyes drifting shut in bliss and body shivering with pleasure. When your ass is firmly planted against his thighs you rock forward, gasping at the way his piercing creates an extra layer of sensation deep in your cunt when you move.

"Goddamnit, fuck, shit, motherfucking whore." Dieter hisses, eyes closed so he doesn't blow his load right this second. You are just like a fucking glove around him and he's overwhelmed by how good it feels to have you around him again. It was something he had dreamed of, jerked off thinking about but had never really believed it would ever be afforded to him again.

It's counterintuitive, but you smother a burst of giggles at his tirade of curses and lean forward to kiss him. "You okay, baby?"

"Gimme a minute....." He pants, chest heaving as he tries to think about anything but the wet clutch of your cunt. Your walls contract and he groans, cock twitching deep and he grimaces slightly against your lips. "Trying to– trying to make sure I don't fuckin' embarrass myself." He complains, as if it is all your fault. Which it is, but he's not mad about it. "Too fuckin' tight."

"No more Kegels?" You can't help but tease him, feeling the way your pussy throbs around him. It's brilliant and sinful and makes your mind fog with pleasure.

"Those work?" He pops one eye open to stare at you, trying to gauge if you are serious or not. "No bullshit?"

“You tell me.” Whining a little when he twitches deep inside you again, you flash him a grin. “You’re the one feeling the results right now.”

"Mean." He hisses when you tighten down around him again. "Brat." His nails dig into your flesh but not enough that he would leave more than dull marks on your skin, easily gone later.

“You gonna punish me for it?” It certainly wouldn’t be the first time the two of you ever played with power dynamics in bed, and your lips curl into a grin.

Dieter is a cocky enough man, well aware of his abilities in bed to change things up. Enough of an asshole to flip you over onto your back with a quick tilt of his hips and follow you, staying buried inside your body and snapping his hips forward sharply when he thrusts down. "Yes."

“Fuck!” It happens all at once, as the begging mess of a man flips on a dime to being dominant without warning. The true definition of a switch, all depending on how his mood runs in that moment.

His one chuckle is breathless, but the idea of taking charge helps him keep the bare thread of his control. "Yeah?" He rocks his hips back and decides that another rough thrust is exactly what you need. Wanting you to experience what it is like fucking him with a piercing. "That's what I thought."

It’s probably a very good thing that no one is in the suite next door, otherwise they definitely would have heard you wail at that hard thrust that ran the ends of that bent barbell in his cock all along the walls of your pussy, stimulating places you didn’t even know could have extra stimulation and making you gasp in pleasure. “Fuck that feels amazing.”

“Yeah it does.” He groans in agreement, moving down so he can gather you up in his arms as he starts to normalize his sharp, steady pace. It will kill his back later on, but he needs this.

"Goddamn, Dee–" Each thrust pushes the air out of your lungs and you moan without restraint, wrapping yourself around him just as surely as he wraps up in you. Even a puff of air between you is further apart than you want to be tonight.

Lowering his head to your shoulder, he moans your name quietly. Pressing his lips to your skin and grunting with every thrust as your walls quake around him.

Unlike other encounters - even other encounters with him - this isn't about fancy positions or how well you can bend yourself up to take each thrust as tightly as possible. This isn't about the acrobatics of sex. It's the intimacy. It's the way he fills you to aching with every deep thrust and the way you cling to him like a lifeline even when he pulls away again that leaves you breathless, not just the simple act of sex itself.

“Fuck— fuck baby.” He moans quietly. “God I love you. So much, feels so good.” He can’t stop moving, breathing you in. Touching you like he had wanted to so many times while on that damn set. Now he can and like everything else Dieter is greedy with, he is going to gorge himself.

“I — fuck — I love you so much.” It’s like he’s trying to swallow you whole and you would willingly let him. There’s nothing standing in the way of you positively devouring each other and you just as desperately are trying to burrow under his skin or just welcome him fully into your body every chance you get. Time doesn’t matter right now. He could be between your thighs for five minutes or five days. All that matters is that he is right where he wants to be.

There’s something almost ethereal in the air tonight - or that might just be the way your heart is pounding so wildly that you feel like you’re about to take flight. Every time you rise up to meet him he bears down again and meets you in the middle, creating a symphony of gluttonous, lustful sounds as your bodies move together in that bed and your moans twine together.

“Fuck, fuck Bambi.” He moans quietly. Biting the juncture of your shoulder. “Please cum for me.”

It’s barely a request, more like a prayer as you tumble together toward that brilliant and eruptive end. A drop of sweat from his forehead on your skin seems almost as lecherous as anything else, like the tantalizing cream on top of a favorite dessert. Your back aches again as his hands push under your ass angling your bodies so that you cry out with his next thrust – vision going white as the explosion of orgasm washes over your body.

“Yes,” your real name falls from his lips as a prayer, trying to rock into you through your orgasm. Watching as your entire body thrashes under him.

“Fuuuck, Dee—” The more he works you up, the louder you groan and the faster his name falls from your lips. It almost rolls you over into a second orgasm altogether and all you can do is pray he follows you. The way you soak him has him unraveling, the wet slaps of his hips nearly frantic as he shoves himself deep and cries out in the most soul soothing release he’s probably ever had.

Panting for breath, you wrap both arms tightly around his shoulders and hold Dieter to you like an anchor. “This is…not how I expected today to end,” you whisper quietly, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “But fuck…I love you so much.”

Swallowing, Dieter tucks his head into the curve of your shoulder and tries to catch his breath. "I love you." He exhales breathlessly. "I've got– twelve years to make up for, so I'm gonna be a little clingy."

You can’t help but laugh at that, breathless and light, and you find his lips to kiss him gently. “That’s just fine with me, baby. I promise.”

Groaning quietly, he starts to roll the two of you onto your sides. He doesn't want to pull out quite yet, but he knows he's a hell of a lot heavier now than he had been twelve years ago. The skinniness of youth has filled into a broader frame.

“Now I know why some people have sex under blankets,” you giggle softly, tucking into his broad frame. “So they can go right to sleep after.”

"You want to stay like this for a while?" He asks, pulling you closer.

“We could lay like this forever.” Would people come looking for you? Sure. But in this moment you could not give a single flying fuck about the rest of the world.

"You might have to pee after ten minutes." Dieter teases, remembering how you used to claim you could sleep right after sex and always had to get up within ten minutes to use his small bathroom.

“Tease me all you want, I’m enjoying the romance of the moment.” You giggle against him and place a kiss over his heart. “I don’t want to go back to reality just yet.”

"I get it." Dieter's eyes are half closed and he strokes your back as he hums. "It's like being on that really good high and not wanting to come down."

“I guess that makes sex my drug of choice.” Or him, maybe — being with Dieter has always felt like a special kind of paradise while it lasts.

“Sex is always a good drug.” He agrees, knowing that tonight isn’t going to be one and done. Not when he’s wanted you all day. It might take awhile to recover, but he wants to make you cum again.

“The best.” Not that you have a lot of experience with others, but that isn’t the point. The point is him and you and getting your together back.

Humming softly, Dieter closes his eyes, the soft edge of a smile on his lips. “If I’m dreaming, I don’t want it to end.”

"I'm not going anywhere, baby." You promise, murmuring quietly in his ear. It's not that you're trying to rub salt in the wound that he was the one who left you back in New York, but the fact is - you probably never would have left him. The way you felt about Dieter while you were apart was a product of hurt, and of betrayal. Not that you didn't love him.

“You were always stronger than me.” He turns and kisses your face blindly. “Always.”

"I don't know about that." After all, he survived treatment from his father that would probably have crushed you if you had it from yours. "But either way? We made it back to each other."

“We did.” He reaches out and caresses your face. “I don’t deserve you. I never did. Just so you know that.”

"You deserve to be happy, Dee. And so do I." One of your hands comes up to cover his and you turn your head slightly to leave a kiss on his palm. "We had that spoiled for us by someone. But this second chance is just for us."

“Just for us.” He nods, opening his eyes to stare at you solemnly. “I love you.”

"I love you, too, Dee." And boy is that going to surprise the shit out of a lot of people.

______ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle    

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Dieter Bravo #Dieter Bravo x reader #Dieter Bravo x you #Dieter Bravo x female reader #Dieter Bravo x f!reader #The Bubble #lost love #one that got away #movie star reader

[accio-victuuri]

I don’t know if I will tag this as CPN because it is mixed in there— but this is mostly about the fake apology letter/anti thing connected to XZ. Also my thoughts on some turtles being unfair to XZ lately.

I’m just putting everything under the cut cause it’s a topic i’m not fond of talking about. but seems necessary at this point.

Today, the shrimp opinion book posted a reminder to fans. If you don’t know what they are, it’s a solo fan account that is allegedly connected to the studio. It’s not new for artist’s studio to respond to certain fan groups and have them relay information. If you notice, WYB’s team does the same. In this case, the opinion book has been popular for some lowkey announcement and a way to manage the fans.

The related information regarding rumors being spread online and the apology letter had been confirmed with Studio immediately, the related information on the artist are all made up and totally false. The related information in the apology letter appearing today, we have also communicated with Studio and clarified, Studio had always been using reasonable and lawful methods to protect his rights. But we have currently confirmed with lawyers that this person was not contacted, the content described by this person is contradictory, with purposes unknown. Hence we hope that everyone do not join the discussion of this, treat this carefully, so as not be exploited. All malicious rumors will undergo professional assessment before carrying out reasonable. protection of rights, we hope for everyone to await good news quietly.

So what exactly happened?

The apology letter that was posted is someone taking back their words about what they posted last 3.27 about XZ’s alleged romantic relationship. They are saying it’s false. Letters like this are usual, it’s one condition asked for when c-ent stars are suing accounts for slander.

The info this person posted was about XZ & 🍆. saying that they are in a relationship blah blah blah, all kinds of stuff ( i’m not gonna post it anymore cause it’s anti material ) . Notice that the studio refuted that too = are all made up and totally false. So there’s that. I mean, this is nothing new. Everyone knows that he is not dating 🍆. They are colleagues/friends. That’s it.

What irritates me is how turtles ( particularly on weibo ) are celebrating this because it seems like XZ & his team is quick to clarify dating rumors. and most especially this one cause for some reason, people are unreasonably threatened when XZ interacted with 🍆 onstage @ Weibo night. Going as far as to insinuate that GG is rude and at certain times was only being nice for the cameras. I mean, that’s the same thing that antis say about him! You know that right? and it’s the exact same bullshit that i hate when solos apply it to him and WYB. When they say “the two are not even friends and that GG was doing it for the CQL promo”. Even if you have solid evidence from hundreds of videos that they are friends. At the very least, they are friends. and I hope we do the same courtesy to XZ’s friends and female co-stars. He is an actor. They are both actors. They will be paired with lots and lots of female celebrities. It’s part of the job. XZ & WYB’s relationship is not commercial, it’s real. So don’t apply those rules to them.

I also wish turtles to be more kind to XZ. I don’t understand why there seems to be a double standard when it comes to him. The general reaction from that interaction in 3/25 is so horrible towards XZ — like it’s his fault cause he won’t stand next to WYB. How WYB is a poor lovesick fool looking at XZ who was ignoring him. I wonder if people really understand how delicate their careers are and how careful they always have to be. Especially Xiao Zhan. So maybe we can be more considerate towards XZ? Be more understanding.

Trust him. He always delivers. He always does. We’ve seen it many times so it’s unfair to shift the blame on XZ and make it seem like he holds all the cards. I don’t know what he was to do to please certain people and i don’t want him to feel frustrated that he will just stop dropping candies altogether. It feels like most turtles are so critical of him and his relationships. He needs people on his side. They both do. They can’t live in a small bubble of just the two of them. Of course they have to be careful with who they surround themselves with — but that’s their judgement and not ours.

Anyway, that’s enough rant for today. I just needed to say it. XZ deserves all the love. ♥️ seeing him happy in his vlog today made me want to defend him from what i’ve been seeing lately, so. yeah.

#personal #yizhan #bjyx

[italoniponic]

Hello again! It is I- Swimmy back to pester you again! Unfortunately the fanfiction I was writing got deleted from my Tumblr drafts. 😭 So to cheer myself up I came up with more of the proposal headcanons I sent you a while back and I remembered you enjoyed them, so I decided to share the new ones as well! (Also I noticed one person that replied to the first post knew exactly what old TV show I was referencing and I nearly died laughing over it).

So in my last submission, I mentioned Floyd basically tricking you into a proposal, right? Well I can see Jade definitely doing something similar, but much more subtle than his twin. He'd be more like, "do you like this pearl? Yes yes, it is beautiful... do you want to keep it?" and you're like "yes! thanks, Jade!" but then Floyd starts squeezing you and talking about how you're going to be in-laws... cue panic. "JADE YOU CAN HAVE THE RING BACK." And Azul is already drafting a prenuptial agreement for you and Jade. 🤣

I know last time aside from Kalim I only really talked about the mer-people, the beastmen, and the fae But who says the humans can't have odd proposals as well? Or there could just be some miscommunication. Like Trey bringing you a cupcake or something from his family's bakery. But unfortunately, Trey accidentally grabbed a special cupcake that was meant for a customer's proposal, and there is a ring hidden inside... so you either bite the ring and nearly break a tooth, nearly choke on the ring or you manage to spot it and pull it out of the cupcake. Either way, you're looking at Trey like "we haven't even gone on a first date???? this is a little fast!!!"

Riddle, poor, poor awkward Riddle. I like to imagine that flowers have significant meaning in Twisted Wonderland, and maybe a certain bouquet can be viewed as a marriage offer? And you somehow aquire say bouquet/arrangement and bring it to Riddle as a gift. "Here, I know how much you enjoy flowers. :)" "... WHAT?!" and he thinks you're messing with him even though you're genuinely clueless, but he can't even do "off with your head" as punishment because you don't have magic so it basically does nothing to you.

I also had the idea that maybe Ace tries to convince you to "fake marry" him so he can tell his family that he's got a partner. I didn't have anything for Cater or Deuce. 😭

Kalim got some attention last time, and he's gonna get more attention for Jamil's part, actually. Even through everything that has happened with them, Kalim obviously still loves Jamil like his own family. And family doesn't let family end up alone. Kalim also knows Jamil fairly well and has definitely noticed the way Jamil's gaze lingers on you a little longer than anyone else. So Kalim takes matters into his own hands... he brings you various treasures from Scarabia and kneels before you... "will you... MARRY JAMIL?" Jamil wants to throw himself off of a cliff and you're completely lost because you thought Kalim and Jamil had invited you over for a game night??? But in a different scenario, Kalim just asks Jamil to give you some specific gifts and deliver them directly. It doesn't occur to Jamil until *after* you've accepted them that he basically just gave you a bunch of proposal and marriage related stuff and now he's on his way to murder Kamil.

On the topic of being proposed to for someone else: Ortho. You can't tell me that this kid wouldn't catch onto Idia's big huge crush on you as soon as it developed. I think it's canon that he can see Idia's heart rate and stuff? I can't remember but either way, the Ignihyde leader nearly goes into cardiac arrest when he's near you. So Ortho being the sweet kid he is, basically brings you back to Idia's dorm and says something like, "you may kiss the bride" and Idia just freakin' passes out. You're confused and Ortho is like "did I do a good job?"

I'm gonna throw Malleus in here again, because I'm still laughing over the thought of just roaming around his castle like "ooh this place is nice :)" and not even noticing the fact that it's literally being decorated for a wedding.

I don't know a whole lot about Silver, but I wonder if he sleep talks? He falls asleep while reading and you're sitting next to him. He's repeating the last few lines that be has read from his book before dozing off, and one of them happens to be "will you marry me" and you panic and say yes because it was so sudden. If it had just been the two or you, you probably would have told Silver once he woke up, you both could have laughed awkwardly and then moved on... but dammit if Lilia wasn't eavesdropping!!! He's ecstatic!!! A wedding between his precious son and you? AND POTENTIAL GRANDBABIES??? You can't come back from this now. It's been ten minutes and Lilia already has your "save the date" cards being sent out and he's picked a venue.

Now if it were Lilia... I couldn't see him being sneaky about a proposal since he's canonly apparently older than dirt. I also don't think he'd accidentally propose either, but maybe he just happens to find a gorgeous ring somehow and gives it to you as a gift, not knowing the ring was an engagement ring. You find it find and try to explain to him what kind of ring it is and just rolls with it like "oh, okay. Will you marry me then?" and have no chance at saying no because in his head he's choreographing your first dance together naming all twelve of your future children.

What if you were asked to help Vil practice lines for an upcoming movie or something, and he has to "propose" to you in the scene? Somehow or another, paparazzi manage to get a photo of you assisting him and they take the story and run with it. It's all over the news, "Vil engaged to mystery woman?!" And he's getting so much publicity on it that he's considering *not* making a statement clearing up the situation... I mean, you should feel HONORED, really!!

Rook is pretty "flowery" with his words. I feel like he could just talk to you for a few minutes and propose without you even realizing it, like "would you walk with me to the very end?" and you think he's just asked you to go on a literal walk and you're like "yes Rook, of course". He swoops you up bridal style and is just overjoyed that you said yes!!! No take backs!

And Epel, bless his heart. I can just see his family all being like "when are ya'll getting married" because he talks about you so much and doesn't have the heart to correct anyone. Maybe at one they manage to pawn off the family ring on him and it leaves him with no other choice than to propose. There's no motivation like peer pressure!

I'm struggling to remember who all I had HCs for in my first submission, I don't wanna repeat anyone and be boring but I don't wanna miss anyone either. So much potential. 🤣 it's also almost 4am where I live and I can't sleep. I apologize for grammar errors and the length!

-🏊‍♀️ Swimmy

Welcome back, Swimmy! <3 For those who doesn't know or remember, it's the anon from this ask about proposal headcanons (there: Azul, Floyd, Leona, Ruggie (but not much), Jack, Sebek, Kalim, Malleus). I also want to correct myself bc talking about Jamil in Kalim's part, it was meant to be "you can't marry someone after so little time" but I didn't noticed it was typed "you can" lol

Ooh, my sweetie, I'm so sorry! I hope you can rewrite it somehow. idk if you can, but use google docs to write. It has automatic saving (or you can set it, i think) and even if the internet goes off suddenly, it doesn't take much from the actual work and you can fastly copy-paste to other archive just to keep it safe in these cases. I know bc this happened to me a lot of times. Hope everything turns out okay <3

I really enjoyed! idk how it shows but for my mobile, it's one of my popular posts alongside two Malleus requests! And its all thanks to you <3 Thanks again for blessing us again with these beautiful (and funny) hcs

(I also know That's So Raven but it's been so much time that if you put a reference, I possibly didn't noticed lol)

Jade being sneaky even in this. Why I'm not surprised? I love how Floyd is 100% subtle in everything he does and OMG AZUL DOING THE PRENUPTIAL AGREEMENT I'M DYING LMAO

ngl this would be a great idea for a Trey scenario! The reader's quote and then Trey being all panicked and embarrassed bc well, he thinks about it in rare times and since it's you, why not??? 10/10 best story for the wedding party three months later

I LOVED this idea with the flower bouquet. Riddle being a total flustered mess and it just doubles when Ace and Deuce give you two their greetings in "this, oh so lovely, celebration of love" (Ace knows you're clueless and he's gonna enjoy this + Deuce actually thinks you just proposed and it's trying to be supportive). Eventually someone explains to you what that bouquet means but... here's the thing: you does a face like "oh, so you won't accept it then?" and you seem really sad and Riddle just takes the damn flowers off your hand and says "I DO" and storms off the lounge but at least you're happy now

ACE FAKE DATING/MARRY TROUPE OMG it's so simple but you know what? I would love seeing this. Just the development of Ace being "okay so we're faking it!" to "I hate how I love you so much" and now you really need to marry lol

THE "WILL YOU MARRY JAMIL" GOT ME ON MY KNEES

It's like that one incorrect quote that Person C proposes to Person A in Person B's name lmao. I'm 100% for this, it's pure canon, you got my blessing. No thoughts, just Kalim stopping the banquet to make a huge announcement, he kneels before you, everybody panics, you panics but Kalim just ask you if you would marry Jamil and everybody just... whattafck is going on??? Jamil doesn’t know if he goes to you or strangles Kalim with his own bandana but then you get up and say “Oh, geez, you got me scared Kalim bc I actually love Jamil. I would love to marry him!” “YES!”

“Sorry to interrupt but,” Scarabia student B says, holding Jamil who just passed out, “We lost a soldier here”

Ortho really watched every one of those kids movies about setting up adults in relationships and he’s about to prove all those theories. Idia absolutely can’t do anything to stop him. I can also see Ortho showing you and Idia one slideshow about the statistics of the simulation of your married life plus a really sweet (and kinda embarrassing) 3D simulation of your game avatars marrying (like in Animal Crossing or smth like that)

Oh, Silver sleeping talking and just blurting out a whole proposal from this book he's reading (plus if you were the one who recommended it). I would be a total mess. Lilia is one of those moms who are just "so, when are you going to marry?" after the son/daughter have two weeks of dating

HE'S ALREADY MAKING THE SAVE THE DATE CARDS OMG

Lilia have the "it was an accidental propose haha well unless??" energy with the wiggling eyebrows, nobody can't convince me otherwise

TWELVE CHILDREN

Vil's life is probably one of those teen movies about celebrities at this point

This is such a Rook x Reader situation, it's perfect lol you just panicking in his arms and asking "u-uh, we aren't going to walk?" "yes, amour, for the rest of our lifes!" "... that's a pretty long walk, huh" (← still don't get it, wait for when Rook is asking about your measurements for the wedding clothes)

The "old family ring" trick! You can't escape it now, Epel lol I can see him all awkward with the ring box in his hands, looking at you then looking at his family being all supportive and cheering on him ("ya can do it, son!"). Epel looking kinda dead inside bc romanticism isn't one of his most favorite things but his line about being a prince in a white horse in gm event will always stays in my heart

(okay, so here we did for Jade, Trey, Riddle, Ace, Jamil, Idia, Silver, Lilia, Vil, Rook and Epel) there's only Cater and Deuce left, maybe next time?

not a problem, dear! It was fun talking about this again <3 Now sleep well (not that i'm one to talk) and until next time. Thanks for sharing your accidental propose thoughts with us again~

#twisted wonderland #courting customs hcs #accidental proposing 2 - the return of the legend #jade leech #trey clover #riddle rosehearts #ace trappola #jamil viper #idia shroud #silver #twst silver #lilia vanrouge #vil schoenheit #rook hunt #epel felmier #ortho shroud #cherry's reply #twst headcanons #twst imagines #cherry's mumbling about twst

[storiesforallfandoms]

teach them young ~ tom felton

word count: 1585

request?: yes!

@kellysimagines​ “Well i was wondering if you could write one where the reader amd tom have known eachother since tye 2nd harry potter movie and been friends evr since until they started dating in 2016 and the reader gets pregnant and they document everyrhing on Instagram and tiktok and stuff, and also youtube and they also post like updates on when the reader is in labor and when she had to deliver the baby and stuff (you can decide thw gender of the baby) and after the birth when they get home again they make cute tiktoks with the baby and also like one day the reader is on a online interview for her movie and tom and the baby are seen in the background watching harry potter? Can you maybe add that the baby are twins id you dont want twins them one baby is good :)”

description: in which he’s excited to teach his children all about the magical world he got to be a part of as a kid

pairing: tom felton x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist (one, two)

From the moment you found out you were pregnant, you knew that your baby was going to have a magical life...literally.

You and Tom had originally met on set of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, where you were playing a background character that would eventually become more important in the later movies. You became instant best friends and were inseparable for years. You became especially so after the two of you started dating after so many years of friendship.

When you found out you were pregnant Tom pretty well jumped for joy. He was over the moon at the thought of being a dad. He even had Willow full of excitement, although she didn’t completely understand why because...well, she’s a dog. Tom would constantly talk about all he was going to do with the baby when it came along, which included a very early introduction of Harry Potter into the babies life.

Imagine the shock both of you had when you went to your first ultrasound and found out you weren’t having one baby, but two! By the end of the long nine months, you and Tom had two little bundles of joy brought into your lives.

You both had a very public life through social media, especially after you found out you were pregnant and had decided to document the pregnancy on your social media accounts. Eventually, you just made a joint account that was dedicated to your family content, such as pictures and videos of the four of you doing things as a family. Your and Tom’s fans absolutely loved all of it. They loved to see the adorable content that included the babies, but mostly the pictures and videos in which Tom would dress the babies up in Harry Potter outfits or would be reading the books to them.

About a year after you had given birth to the babies, you were doing an online interview for your newest movie. A lot of people didn’t like the Zoom meetings and whatnot, but you loved them. It meant that you could spend time with Tom and the babies while also doing your job and promoting your movies, something that was nearly impossible before.

You were in the office with the door closed to do your interview, but, evidentially, you hadn’t closed it all the way when the door slowly creaked open and Willow snuck in, just out of view of the camera.

“Hello beautiful girl,” you said to the black lab. She happily trotted up to you and placed her head on your lap. “Looking for some love, huh? Is daddy too busy with the babies?”

“She must be jealous of your twins,” the interviewer said.

“Not really, actually,” you responded. “She wasn’t sure how to feel about them when we first brought them home, and she especially was not a fan when they started crying that first night. The poor thing was fast asleep and suddenly both babies let out this ear piercing screech. She hid under our bed the entire night.”

“Oh no!” the interviewer laughed. “I hope that didn’t last long.”

“It didn’t, luckily. We had them laying down on the couch one day while they were napping, and Willow just sat there looking at them the entire time. Every now and then she’d sniff them, and if they’d move it would startle her a little. But there was just something about that hour long nap that flipped a switch in her, and now she loves them. She’s very protective over them whenever we go out for walks and stuff. But if Tom or I are spending time with them, she’ll go to the other person for attention.”

“That’s so sweet. So I guess Tom is looking after them now then.”

You nodded. “Yeah, they’re out in the lounge watching something I think. I can hear the TV is on.”

“Yeah, I think we can kind of see something playing back there.”

You noticed that the lounge was slightly visible on your camera, but not enough to make out what was playing on TV. You turned to look out through the open door and smiled to yourself as you saw the familiar scenes from Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone. You could only see the top of Tom’s head over the couch, but you knew he had both babies on either side of him, also as invested in the bright colors and sounds as their father was in the actual plot of the movie.

“They’re watching the first Harry Potter,” you said, turning back to the camera with a smile on your face.

“Oh my God, adorable!” the interviewer cried.

“I know. I can’t count how many times Tom has shown them the first three movies. He says he wants to wait until they’re a little older before he watches Goblet of Fire and beyond considering how much darker those movies are.”

“You and Tom have this joint Instagram and TikTok account where you post content of you and the kids, and a lot of what’s posted by Tom seems to be Harry Potter related.”

“It is. There is some Harry Potter stuff I’ve posted with them, but Tom is definitely the head of that ship.”

“It seems like he’s gonna raise a wizard and a witch himself.”

You chuckled. “He’s definitely trying. He loves that franchise so much, and not just because he was in it. The movies mean so much to him because they are what kickstarted his career and because they’re the reason we met. I remember the first time that he watched Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets with them, back when they were only a few months old so they weren’t even really awake for it or anything, he told them that that movie is how they came to be.”

The interviewer took a moment to fawn over how cute that was again.

“And aside from that, he also says he wants the kids to get into the series because he wants them to look up to Harry the way he and a lot of other kids did,” you continued. “He wants them to know it’s okay to be different, and that you can do great things if you are different. Ironically, he wants to teach them to not be like Draco in the sense of bullying others because they’re different than you.”

“They are important lessons to teach kids.”

“They are. I don’t think we had to start so young with them, but I know that Tom was incredibly excited about this aspect of being a father throughout my entire pregnancy. I don’t think he was physically able to wait for the kids to get older so he could start showing them this stuff.”

The interview moved on from Tom and the kids back to talking about your movie. You continued to absentmindedly pet Willow until she realized you weren’t giving her your full attention either and left the room to go lay on the floor in the lounge.

It wasn’t long until you were finished with the interview, meaning you were finally done your press runs for the day. You had been sat in that one chair for hours and your legs and butt had gone numb. You were basically limping out of the room when you were finished.

Tom looked over his shoulder when he heard you coming and started to laugh at how you were walking. “You good, love?”

“Oh yeah, I’m fine,” you said, still awkwardly waddling towards the couch. “My lower half will be much happier to sit on the soft couch than that hard chair.”

As you predicted, your twins were sat on either side of their dad with their pacifiers in their mouths and their eyes transfixed on the screen. They barley even glanced at you as you walked around to sit next to on the other side of one of them.

“Are they enjoying the movie?” you asked.

“I think so. They haven’t said a word since it started, so I’m thinking that’s a good sign.”

You chuckled and looked down at your babies. They were both a mirror image of Tom but with your eyes. Of course, that was an immediate Harry Potter related joke between the two of you.

“Willow decided to come in for attention during the interview,” you told Tom.

“Oh, really? I’m sorry love, I didn’t even notice she was at the door.”

“Don’t be sorry. I didn’t mind it. The interviewer thought it was cute. She asked about the babies afterwards, and she could kind of see you three watching the movie through the open door.”

“I’m sure they loved that I was showing them Harry Potter.”

“She thought it was cute that you want to show it to them that much. As I do, too. I just can’t wait till they’re old enough to actually understand.”

Tom smiled at me and reached out to put his hand on mine. I smiled back at him and shuffled around so I could rest my head on his shoulder without crushing the baby between us. It didn’t take long for the two of their eyes to start slowly drooping closed before they lulled off into a peaceful sleep, but Tom and I continued to watch the movie until the credits rolled. Then, after laying the babies down for a nap, we decided to start movie two and relive the day we first met all those years ago.

#Tom Felton #tom felton imagine #tom felton x reader #harry potter #imagine #one shot #request #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

[formula1neverleft]

Complete Mess - Daniel Ricciardo - Chapter 1

 Pairing: DrummerAU!Daniel x female!Reader 

 Summary: After a bad break-up, your friends drag you to a bar in search of a rebound hook-up. When you cross paths with a certain tattooed drummer in a local band, he seems like just the guy for the job. 

 Warnings: I'm planning on making this a lengthy one yall, get ready for that slow burnnnnn. Gonna be angst, fluff, eventual smut (I’ll put it in the warnings for the chapter once I get there), swearing 

Based on the song Complete Mess by 5SOS, give it a listen if you want :))  

Feedback is very much appreciated!! Enjoy xx 

 Words: 2.5k 

 Chapter 1: I’ve never been a saint, have I? 

 You should have listened to your friends. 

It’s the only thing you can think about while walking back to your apartment at 3am with tears streaming down your face.  Almost a year of your life down the drain, and you could’ve avoided this if you had just taken their advice. When you first introduced Nick to your friends, it wasn’t hard to pick up on their apprehension of your relationship. He had a bit of a…reputation in your social circle, a reputation of not really being the best boyfriend material. You had laughed away their worries, because he was different with you. He had asked you on the first date, he had taken you to a nice restaurant and had flowers delivered to your address that same week, and eventually he was the one that had asked you to be his girlfriend. God, thinking about it now, you could just about slap yourself for falling for that whole act. In retrospect, it’s not like you felt like he was the love of your life or anything, but you liked him, and he made you feel happy…most of the time. Okay, so there may have been a few red flags. Like how he never wanted to spend time with your friends and family and how he was always weird about leaving his phone unattended with you. Yeah, you probably should have known this was coming. You regret not ending things sooner yourself and giving him the satisfaction of dumping you because he wanted to “see other people” (aka: I’ve been seeing other people and want to keep doing it without looking over my shoulder constantly). The pain in your chest was dull and lingering, and your body felt heavy as you walked up the stairs to your apartment door. The telltale signs of a broken heart, but it wasn’t really him you were going to miss, more so having someone to share life with in general. Someone to laugh with and someone you can trust. It hurt that even a guy like Nick had somehow deemed you unworthy of his time. Once inside, you plodded to the bathroom and took a look at your face in the mirror. Your face was red and swollen, tears now gone but the remains of them still obvious in your bloodshot eyes and the mascara running down your cheeks. You decided to not even attempt to fix it now, and instead you turned around to your living room and dropped down on your sofa without even taking your jacket off. 

 You were more tired than you thought, because when the demanding knock at your door woke you up, you were still in the same position on the couch. The sunlight was beaming even through your curtains, and it made you squint your eyes and groan as the reality of your situation settled in once again. You hoisted yourself up and made your way to the door as the knocks became more erratic. 

“Yeez, I’m coming, I’m coming”

“Okay, tell me everything” Lily said as she didn’t wait for an invitation to enter your apartment. Once inside, she finally took in your appearance.

“Oh god, that bad huh?” she said with an understanding nod.

“Lily, it’s early, and I don’t feel like going into vivid detail about last night right now” you replied with a sigh.

“Girl, you can’t just text me “just got dumped” and nothing else at 3am and not expect me to show up at your door to at least see how you’re doing. But you’re right, we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, just know I’m here for you, okay?”

“How badly do you wanna say it?” you asked as you walked to your kitchen to make some coffee, god knows you were going to need it.

“Say what?” she replied innocently.

“I told you so. You always said it would end up like this, I should have listened, I’m so dumb-” 

“Y/N” Lily interrupted you as she put a consoling hand on your arm, “I wish I hadn’t been right, I never wanted you to get hurt, okay? He’s a dumbass”  

You made an attempt at a smile that would somewhat reassure her, but you could tell from the look on her face that she wasn’t buying it.

“Listen, Alex and I were planning on going to that Dive bar on 23rd and Park tonight, remember we celebrated your birthday there two years ago? Please, come with us?” 

You were already shaking your head before Lily had even finished talking. You loved her and Alex, but the idea of having to bear witness to their healthy and stable relationship for an entire night was too much to handle. 

“From what I remember that place smelt like sweat and beer” it was true, but also a crappy excuse because you remember it being one of the best birthdays you’d ever had. You distinctly remember feeling at ease, it was a place where nobody had anything to prove, and more importantly, a place where Nick would never set foot in. 

“Okay okay, but there’s a band playing there tonight and Alex knows the guitarist, they’re like online gaming buddies or whatever. He says they’re good! If you don’t want to do it for yourself, then please do it for me. I couldn't enjoy myself knowing you were here all alone” she pleaded as she conjured up her best puppy dog eyes. You had to admit that the idea of sitting in your apartment and wallowing in your self-pity for any longer didn’t really seem like a healthy way to spend your night either. Reluctantly, you gave her a small “okay” and she almost squealed in satisfaction. 

“Yess, I’ll make sure you don’t regret it! Drinks on me, and who knows, maybe we’ll find you the perfect rebound guy to take home, huh?” 

“Okay, don’t get ahead of yourself. I don’t know if you’ve noticed the way I look right now, but safe to say I’ve had my share of men and relationships for the time being” you said as you sipped your coffee. 

“yeah, about…that,” she gestured to your face “clean up and wear something cute tonight, you’ll feel as good as new!” Her comment earned her a laugh and a soft punch to the shoulder from you. Lily was a good friend, and at times like these you realized even more how lucky you were to have her in your life. 

“Okay, I’ll pick you up at 9 PM, be ready” she said as she started making her way to the front door. As she grabbed hold of the doorknob, she turned around again, “Oh and Y/N, you didn’t deserve this by the way, you’re one of the good ones. I hope you know that” 

The sincerity of her words took you by surprise, and another half hearted smile made its way to your face. You wanted to believe her, but the dreary ache in your chest begged to differ. In your head, there was a small voice that disagreed with her, and it was telling you that you had brought this on yourself for being so gullible and trusting. Silently, you promised yourself that you would never make that mistake again. 

// 

By the time 9 pm eventually rolled around, you had managed to drag yourself into the shower and put at least some effort into your appearance. Lily was right, you already felt better than before, but once you got in the Uber with Alex and Lily, it didn’t take long for you to feel like the third wheel. 

 “Sorry for barging in on your date night” 

“No, don’t worry, Y/N, Lily told me all about how she had to guilt trip you into coming tonight. Besides, I’m happy to have you with us, seriously” Alex said earnestly. Over the time he and Lily have been together, he’s become more of a friend than just your ‘best friend's boyfriend’, and you could tell from his tone that it was his way of showing you he was there for you too. 

“Besides, Lando said he was scared the place would be half empty for their show tonight, so any plus ones are more than welcome” 

“What’s the band called again?” Lily asked, “I remember it was some cringy cali surfer dude thing but I forgot” 

“Blue coast. And please don’t tell them that it’s cringy, Lando came up with it and he’s really proud of himself, so we should let him have that” Alex grinned. 

 // 

 The bar looked the exact same as the last time you had been there. It was dark and cozy, the back of it littered with bottles of booze and beers you’d never heard of, the only source of light coming from the many neon signs that filled the walls. You could already see people setting up the instruments on the small stage tucked away in the back corner. The ceiling was lower there, and filled with band posters and half torn stickers, along with countless names and dates that were carved and written in the dark wood. It was nice that even a place that seemed so inconspicuous on the surface, meant enough for people to want to memorialize their presence in it forever. You hoped that one day, someone would feel strongly enough about you to do the same. The idea of that seemed so far away now, and maybe it was for the best, because when people carve their name into your body, your heart, it only hurts more when they inevitably leave. 

When you crawled out of your own thoughts and back to reality, Lily and Alex were too busy staring at the menu and discussing which one of the cocktails they wanted to order to notice you spiraling. Alex made Lily order because he refused to say the ridiculous names that the owners gave their drinks out loud (I mean, it’s kind of on him for wanting the ‘blowjob blue’ in the first place). You settled for a simple strawberry daq as the three of you scooted into one of the booths to the side of the bar. 

“Lando!” Alex suddenly piped up, and you turned around to see someone approaching your table with a smile on their face. Despite seeming around your age, the small gap between his teeth and the freckles that adorned his face made him look young. 

“Alex, good to see you man” he said as he pulled Alex into a bro hug. Alex introduced Lily first, and then you. 

“Damn, you brought us some new fans huh? You guys got instagram? Don’t hesitate to tag us in your stories, ladies, it’s @ bluecoastofficial and if you want to you can tag each of us separately so that-”  

“Lando, mate,” an unknown voice interrupted him from the bar.

 “Even from all the way over here, I can hear you bothering these poor people with your social media bullshit” he said in a mocking tone. It was another guy you didn’t know, and he finally turned your way as the bartender slid him a drink that looked like a whiskey on the rocks. He looked older than Lando, with unruly curls and the beginnings of a beard on his face. In his band tee and ripped jeans, he fit right into the scene here. 

 “Daniel, It’s called pr, and at least one of us is actually trying to grow our reach so that we can actually start charging people to come to our shows, huh, how bout that? You won’t be laughing when I’m living in Beverly Hills mate”

 “Well, if you do end up there promise you won’t forget me? I can come and be your poolboy, how does that sound? I’ll even do it shirtless for a few extra bucks ” he said as he made his way over to Lando and put an arm around his shoulder. The lights reflected in the multiple rings that decorated his fingers. Lando was visibly flustered and didn’t know how to retaliate, so he just turned his attention back to your table. 

 “Meet Daniel, our drummer, and also a royal pain in my ass. Dan, this is my buddy Alex, his girlfriend Lily, and Y/N, their uhm-...friend” 

 Great, what an introduction, you thought, you wanted the ground to just swallow you whole. 

 “Howdy, nice to meet you guys” he said as he started shaking Alex’ hand before moving on to Lily. If any other guy greeted you like that, you would have burst out laughing, but there was something about his carefree and witty attitude that actually made him pull it off. It was clear that he wasn’t actually American, though. You think…Australian maybe? Before you could come to a conclusion, he held out his hand to you. You shook it, and your eyes landed on the rose tattoo that graced his tan skin from his thumb down to his wrist. It was beautiful, and you thought about how you could run your own thumb over it if you moved it a little to the right. A small cough made you look up once again. It came from Lily, and she was staring at you with big eyes as she lowered her eyes to your hands and back to you. Oh shit, you were still holding his hand. You were holding his hand and not saying anything, staring at his tattoo like an idiot. Jesus, you were really out of it tonight. 

 “Shit, sorry, I was just- uh, I like your tattoo” you explained as you quickly dropped his hand. He didn’t say anything, instead he just stared back at you. You felt somewhat uneasy as his eyes pierced into yours without showing signs of giving up. There was a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, but it didn’t feel like he was fighting the urge to laugh at you or make some joke at your expense. Instead, it felt more enigmatic, like he knew something you didn’t. 

 “Alright, we should go finish setting up, see you guys in the front row later, yeah? And don’t forget,” Lando said as he took out his phone and tapped on the screen before mouthing “tag us on insta”, before disappearing into the small crowd that had begun to form at the stage. 

 Daniel shook his head disapprovingly before looking back to the side of the booth where Alex and Lily were sitting. 

“Thanks for coming guys, we really appreciate it, hope you enjoy the show”, he turned to face you once again, “and, Y/N, hope to see you in the front row, maybe you’ll catch one of my drum sticks after our encore, yeah?” he said with a wink. He was gone before you even had a chance to react. You sat flabbergasted in your seat, the drink in your hand warming up from you neglecting it for the past ten minutes. Lily finally got your attention by throwing the little paper umbrella that had come with Alex’ cocktail your way. 

 “Told you we’d find you a good rebound” she said with a mischievous smirk. 

Yeah, you definitely should have just stayed home. 

#Daniel Ricciardo #lando norris #F1 #formula 1 #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo fanfiction #formula 1 fanfiction #daniel ricciardo smut #daniel ricciardo fluff #daniel ricciardo angst #alex albon #x reader #F1 imagine #f1 smut #masterlist #5SOS

[doctorstethoscope]

A Direct Order (18+) || A. Hotch x Fem!Reader

Hello my loves! I hope those of you that had a long weekend were able to enjoy it :). Combining two similar requests for this one! 

Submit your requests here!

from @all-hallows-reid (which has maybe deactivated?? I can’t find u bestie):  How about fem!reader secretly dating Aaron (with a twelve year age gap). She takes a stupid risk and almost gets hurt. Suffice it to say he’s not happy, and punishes her accordingly on the jet or when they get home.

and from @mrandmrshotchner:  Disobeying a direct order and Hotch punishing reader for it

I hope you both love this one!! 

warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI. Sir kink, spanking, praise kink, degradation kink, penetrative sex.

wordcount: 2.2k

“I see the girl,” you whispered into your comms device from the back row of pews at a church in Mittburn, Iowa, nearly 200 miles away from where this child abduction case had started. “He’s concealing a hand behind her, could be a weapon,” you relayed to the team. The church was mostly empty, the service having ended. A few parishioners and the priest were still milling around, and your unsub, Phillip Rishi, was leading seven-year-old Abigail Torres to the altar. 

“Agent, do not engage-- Rishi is devolving and we don’t know what he’ll do. Wait for backup.” You heard Hotch, although you wished you hadn’t. 

Technically, you wouldn’t be breaking a rule if you got up and followed Rishi a little more closely-- and Aaron didn’t have eyes on you, anyways. What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. So you slipped out of the pew, kept your head facing mournfully towards the ground, and knelt at the altar, Rishi and the girl to your left. He still had her in front of him, concealing her with his body-- so you couldn’t get a good look at her, to make sure she was okay. You made a half-assed attempt at praying, hoping you were fooling the people around you when you tilted your head at a flash of light-- Rishi had a knife, was tracing the planes of the young girl’s cheekbones, and she was crying.

You gasped, quickly diving across the altar and forcing Rishi off of Abigail. He thrashed as Abigail screamed and ran into the arms of the priest. You wrestled Rishi to the ground, pulling the knife out of his hand and tossing it out of his reach before cuffing him and reading him his Miranda rights. 

As you stood back up, you turned around and noticed Hotch bursting through the door, his face making it perfectly clear that he had heard everything that had gone down through his comms. Oh, man. You were totally fucked.

Aaron asks if you’re okay, which you are, and then the two of you don’t speak. You don’t speak on the jet ride home, you don’t speak as you drive the FBI SUVs back to Quantico, and you don’t speak at the office before you leave for the night. 

You last for all of an hour after leaving the office before you can’t take it anymore. You throw your go bag in your car and take off towards Aaron’s place, walking up to his door and knocking before you can talk yourself out of it. He looks surprised to see you, but doesn’t ask you to leave, which you take as a win. 

“I’m here for my punishment,” you tell him as you slip past him into the apartment, and he rolls his eyes-- not his typical, “my young, playful, sexy girlfriend is driving me crazy” eye roll, but a genuinely disdainful “this young girl is too much to handle” kind of an eye roll. A pang of something you don’t recognize flashes in your chest-- guilt? Betrayal? You push it aside-- that wasn’t what you came here to do. “We’re not the couple that doesn’t talk. If you want to yell, you can yell, but we don’t shut each other out. That’s not us. So go ahead and get it out so we can move past it,” you attempt to sound cool and aloof, even if you are feeling a little vulnerable and desperate. 

   “You disobeyed a direct order,” Hotch says. 

“I did,” you agreed. 

“What, and you don’t even have an issue with it?” He asks you, his tone harsh. 

“He had a weapon, Hotch. And it was drawn on a little girl. What was I supposed to do?” You shot back.

“You were supposed to wait for backup. We hadn’t profiled that he would hurt her,” he tells you, the strain of contained rage in his tone.

“Is that a chance you would have taken? Is it a chance you would have wanted someone to take if it was your son?”

“It’s not a chance I would have taken-- but I can’t take chances with you, either,” he admits, and his confession hangs in the air for a moment. You realize this is his way of telling you how much he cares about you-- walls too high to be truly vulnerable, he has to shroud his disclosure in an argument. “You could have been hurt,” he tells you.

“I could have,” you agreed. “But I’m here, with you, and I’m okay,” you remind him, stepping closer to him, taking his hands in your own to ground him, remind him that everything had turned out okay this time. 

It takes a beat, but Aaron responds in kind, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you closer, and crushing his lips to yours in a searing kiss. You smile into the kiss, letting Aaron lead you backwards towards his bedroom as you wind your fingers in his hair, letting your forearms rest on his shoulders. 

“Were you serious about your punishment?” Aaron asks, his voice somewhere between a whisper and a growl, and you smile. 

“Yes, sir.”

You can feel the air shift in an instant, as Aaron sits at the edge of his bed. “Come on, then. Over my knee,” he tells you impatiently, and you feel a rush of warmth in your core as you move to comply. He stops you. “Pants off. Panties too,” he tells you, and you strip from the waist down before climbing across his lap. He lays his hand against your ass and you feel goosebumps form against his tender touch. 

“I think five is fair-- do you think five is fair, angel?” He asks, pulling your head up by the hair so you can look him in the eye. 

“Yes sir,” you agree-- he always asked before engaging in any sort of impact play, never wanted to give you more than you could handle, and you appreciated it-- even if five did seem like it would be a walk in the park. 

He lands a swift spank against your bare ass cheek and you feel it flood your center almost immediately. “One. Thank you for my spanking, Sir,” you let out almost as if it were a reflex. 

“Good girl,” he encourages you, rubbing at the tender flesh before his hand comes down against the opposite cheek.

“Two, thank you for punishing me, Sir.”

“You’re welcome, angel. Just a few more,” he encourages you, his sweet words a direct contrast to the sharp pain of his hand coming back down against you. 

“Three, thank you Sir.” 

“You belong to me, kitten. I need you to take good care of what’s mine, that’s all,” he reminds you with another spank. 

“Four, thank you Sir. Thank you for taking good care of what’s yours,” you affirm, and he delivers your last spank. 

“Five, thank you Sir,” you breathed out as your hips rocked, incredibly turned on before he had even truly touched you.

Aaron wrapped his arms around you, moving to hold you close for a moment. “There, sweet girl. I need you to help me to take good care of you-- you are very special. It’s my job to make sure nothing happens to you, but I need your help, okay?” 

“Yes, sir,” you tell him, reaching out to hold his face in your hands. 

“Good. Color?” 

“Green, sir.” 

He nods, permission granted to continue, shifting to help you off his lap and onto the bed. “Ass up, slut,” he commands gruffly, and by now you’re certain that you’re dripping down your thighs. You’d find out soon enough, you supposed, as you leaned onto your elbows and knees, raising yourself into a kneeling position, legs spread for Aaron. You heard, rather than saw, Aaron disrobing, which only added to your arousal. 

You feel the mattress dip as Aaron pulls himself up behind you. 

“Oh angel, you’re dripping. Nasty whore,” he smirks, sticking one finger inside of you, but withdrawing it immediately when you rolled against him. “Ah, ah.” he warns you. “Don’t try that again.”

So you hold still, as he pumps one and then two fingers in and out of you. You moan, cry out, beg for more-- but you don’t move.

“Sir, please,” you pant.

“You can move, sweet girl,” he grants you permission, and you start rocking your hips into his fingers immediately, wantonly, letting out a moan that makes Aaron’s cock twitch painfully. You shift your weight onto one elbow, moving one hand towards your center, which Aaron bats out of the way, slapping your swollen clit. 

“Fuck!” you cry out. 

“I said you could move. I didn’t say anything about touching, slut. Don’t make me tie you up, too.” He warns you. 

Half of you hoped that he would, but you were already desperate to cum and you didn’t know how much more you could take. You doubled down on your thrusts into Aaron’s hand, whimpering and panting the whole way. Just as you were about to topple over the edge, Aaron pulled his hand out of you, and you whimpered. 

“Sir,” you said weakly. You hadn’t been expecting that, and you wanted to cum so bad you thought you might cry. 

“Ah ah. What do you say?” He asks. 

“Thank you. Thank you for edging me, Sir,” you panted out, still coming down from your near-miss. 

“That’s my good little whore,” he cooed out. “I want you to ask permission tonight, angel. Color?”

“Green, sir.” You affirmed. “I won’t cum until you give me permission.

“Good, angel, good,” he said, lazily rubbing at your clit, and you whimpered. You’d never come like this, but you’d get increasingly more frustrated. “And why do you need to wait for permission?’ 

“Because I’m Sir’s dirty little whore,” you moaned out, the words turning you on even more as you attempted to grind down on Aaron’s hand. 

“That’s right, good girl,” he said, stepping away from you. “All fours, my love,” he tells you, and you roll up to your knees and elbows. You hear a foil wrapper tear, and without warning Aaron is stretching you. It feels delicious, makes you heady, and you cry out as he starts thrusting in and out of you. 

“You make me feel so good, sweet girl. You’re such a good girl, taking me so well and making such pretty noises. Do I make you feel good?”

“Yes sir, you make me feel so good,” you affirm, the words coming out in a shaky breath. After a few moments, you feel the coil begin to wind up inside of you. 

“Sir, may I please cum?” You ask. 

“No, not yet.” He answers simply, like you’d asked him if it had started to rain, or if dinner was ready. 

“Please, sir. Please, please let me cum,” you begged. 

“Not. Yet,” he affirmed, leaning forward to paw at your clit, which caused you to cry out. “Are you going to thank me?” Aaron asks, but you’re too overwhelmed to understand the question. “Are you going to thank me when I make you come?” He asks. 

“Yes, sir, please please make me come.” 

“Go ahead, angel,” he tells you, and the rubber band snaps. 

“Thank you sir, thank you, thank you, thank you,” you scream as you buck against him. He guides you through your orgasm, gently brings you back to reality once the pleasure has subsided, holding you gently and whispering words of encouragement in your ear. 

“I have to clean you up, sweet girl. Is it okay if I get up, or do you need me to stay here a little while longer? It’s okay if you do. You did such an amazing job,” he assures you, and you nod. 

“I’m okay, hon. Bring back water, please? And maybe some fruit snacks.” 

He rolls his eyes at you, again, but it’s the endearing kind again, and you smile. The two of you would be okay.

After he cleans you up, you head to the bathroom to get ready for bed, and snuggle back into his arms as soon as you're back in bed.

“I was so scared, and I still had to be your boss, first, and I hate that,” Aaron tells you. 

“I’m sorry, darling,” you tell him, shifting so that you’re facing him. “It’s something we should talk about-- me transferring.” 

“That’s not what I meant. You’re not changing your career path for me,” he is quick to correct you. 

“What did you mean, then?” You asked. Surely he wasn’t thinking of stepping down?

“Well, I was hoping… that you might want to tell the team about us? I don’t want to rush you, so if it’s a no, that’s fine and I won’t bring it up again. I understand the professional risks are--” you cut him off with a kiss. 

“I only suggested it because I thought you wouldn’t want people to know.” You tell him. 

“Why wouldn’t I want the team to know how much I love you?” He asks, and you smile. Yeah, the two of you would be okay.  

  tagging: : @bauhousewife @just-a-fangirl-xd @angelic-kisses13 @sleepyreaderreads @ssamorganhotchner @wolviesbbeslrblg @xyzhoneybee@choppa-style @wanniiieeee @zheezs14@ssavanessa22 @isthatme-thatsme @g-l-pierce @ssahotchie @infinite-tides@itsmytimetoodream @hotforhotchner11 @hotchinkevlar @scuttling  

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner x you #hotch x reader #hotch x y/n #hotch x you #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner one shot #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds one shot

[donutloverxo]

Yes captain

Note - this is part three of corrupting a good boy but it's mostly porn so can be read as a standalone as well. Sorry about all the jealousy stuff its just what the muse calls for sometimes. Comments/reblogs are really really appreciated🙏🙏 Dividers by @whimsicalrogers.

Summary - You ask Steve to keep it on while doing it 👀👀

Warnings - 18+ only explicit sexual content, uniform kink, captain kink, daddy kink, roleplaying, jealousy, insecure reader.

Pairing - CEO!Steve x reader

Word count - 4.5k

“Ooo,” you yelped, trying to run away from his firm grip across your hips.

It only made him hold onto you tighter, his nails digging into the flesh of your hips. “There’s no where to run, babygirl,” he chuckled at your misery, delivering another harsh slap to your naked bottom.

You shrieked in pain as your flesh burned in agonising, but delicious pleasure. As if you’d ever want to actually run. “I’m sorry, daddy.” Since you were allowed to call him daddy now, which seemed to always make him forgive you, but you added your princess voice just to be safe and not make it any harder on yourself.

“You should’ve thought of that before you decided to make fun of my team, but you had to be a dumb baby and run your mouth,” he scolded you, slapping you twice before slipping a hand between your legs, the squelching noises of him gathering your slick on his fingers made your ears burn.

You had gotten too bored of him watching the game and not paying attention to you so you might’ve said some mean things about his team, but the jokes on him since your diabolical plan seemed to have worked.

You had gotten too lost in slight tinge of pain in the roots of your hair, that he was pulling, and his fingers teasing your core, you yelped forward when he slapped your pussy, gasping as you throbbed for more of it.

“Honey,” Steve shook your arm causing you to jolt awake.

You had a habit of talking or mumbling nonsense in your sleep and since he was a light sleeper it usually woke him up. He found your incoherent rambles and the little faces you made in your sleep cute, they were particularly intense tonight for some reason, and while he loved you with all his heart he was not about to let you talk nonsense about the Yankees.

“What? Where?” you sat up, rubbing the soft sheen of sweat on your forehead with the back of your hand.

“You were talking in your sleep, sweetheart,” Steve said, rubbing his hand up and down your back, “Come here.” He circled a hand around your waist, pulling you down and back against his chest, kissing the back of your head, “What were you dreaming about, hm?”

“Um...” you blinked, “How much of it did you hear?”

“You think your so clever, don’t you,” he teased, pinching the side of your hip as you giggled.

“Yes, I’m very smart.”

You shut your eyes, ready to go back to dreamland and to your daddy, who was just a version of Steve who liked being called daddy. Which was something Steve would never be into. Not that you’d ever admit to having such a shameful kink.

But you felt Steve grind his excitement against your ass, “You wanna go back to sleep, or...?” he asked, biting the shell of your ear before snaking a hand up your cami to grope your breast.

“You woke me up with such debauch intention?!” you gasped in fake incredulity. Deciding to indulge him and that any time spent with normal real Steve was much better than being with dream daddy Steve.

***

You fixed his tie, tightening it just a bit around his neck. His golden hair was smoothed back, your eyes caught a glimpse of his rosy pink lips. So pouty and perfect. You could spend hours just looking at them, his smile was what truly made you fall for him. But you pulled away when he tried to steal a kiss from you.

“Gloss,” you argued, puckering your lips. Instantly feeling guilty as his pink ones pouted, giving you his sweet puppy eyes.

“Come on, doll, just one kiss? Don’t you wanna wish me luck?” He bent to capture your lips but you moved your head away at the last second, making him groan as his nose bumped against your cheek.

“I spent over two hours getting ready for this!” you huffed, smoothening a hand over your puffy tulle dress, finally having a chance to wear it out in public.

“Did you just smudge my blush?” Gasping, as you looked into the mirror, picking up your rouge and patting it on again.

You loved the dress Steve had gotten you for Christmas, it was so pretty and princess and you felt like Cinderella wearing it.

But it was too... girl-ish, Steve had insisted that you wear it. So he could show off his beautiful new wife.

Tonight though, you had to look like a woman.

A strong woman.

Who is not to be fucked around with. And not someone who is vulnerable and weak.

Because you knew she was going to be there.

“You always look gorgeous,” he mumbled, looking in the mirror and patting his hair to make sure it was in place.

You had convinced him to grow it out. Having more courage to express yourself since the Christmas gift mishap a couple of months ago.

Tucking a loose golden strange behind his ear, you wondered how someone as breathtakingly as beautiful as him could be yours.

But as beautiful as Steve was, he could also be naive. He wanted to see the best in people, which often didn’t let him see what was right in front of him.

How his ex Peggy had been trying to cause problems between you two from day one.

At first she had welcomed you with open arms, with a treacherous smile her red lips had told you that she wanted to be best friends with you. Taking you to the MET museum, of which she was a board member, asking your help in organising a couple of galas and the fundraisers. Shopping with you to make you more presentable to be a CEO’s wife

You were prepared to be wary of her. The fact that Steve was still good friends with his ex, who he had dated for more than five years, didn’t exactly sit well with you, you knew you’d face some troubles there, but then you met her and spent time with her you knew that you did had nothing to worry about.

That was until she, and Steve’s mother, had tried to get you to sign a pre-nup before you both got married.

While Sarah was always nice, you could always sense a tinge of hostility, your intuition told you how she preferred Peggy over you and would much rather have her as Steve’s wife.

With a heavy heart you had told Steve you couldn’t do it. That there was no point in getting married if you would end up divorced eventually. You were ready to cut your losses then, to pack your bags and go home, preparing for the worst. But he understood and said that he wouldn’t be marrying you if he didn’t trust you.

You were glad to have worked out everything, but decided to play nice with ‘Judas', whom you learned had infamously betrayed Jesus from a mass you attended with Steve and Sarah, and pretend that you didn’t know anything about her betrayal.

You shook your head, there was no point in letting her ruin your night, or dictate what you wore. The dress was what you liked and who you were, there was no reason for you to pretend to be like her. Steve liked you because you were nothing like her,

....probably.

You looked over to Steve, tugging his pants up and securing them, you had never once thought you’d be someone who’d have a thing for men in uniforms, they were simply doing their jobs, what the fuck was sexy about uniforms anyway, but that was until you saw your Steve in his...

He really could pull off any color, even something as boring as army green, his chest and built looked almost too broad. Numerous medals adorning his chest. He certainly looked the part of a soldier.

He kissed your temple when he caught you staring at him and you only hoped he couldn’t decipher what was going on in that horny brain of yours.

Steve rarely ever talked about his days in the army. If he did it was about the friends he made and the good times he shared with them. And how army whipped him in shape, made him the man he was.

He had been honorably discharged a couple of years ago, all his army friends only ever spoke highly of him--which wasn’t really surprising.

***

“Hello, darling,” she smiled to you in her classy British accent, kissing your cheek before hugging you, “How have you been? Haven’t seen you since new years!”

“I’m good and you look amazing.”

Which wasn’t a complete lie, she did look elegant in her uniform, a lot similar to Steve’s but her coat had flares at the end which gave it a more feminine feel than that of Steve’s.

“So do you,” she beamed, “Oh, you have a little something,” she gestured to the corner of your mouth before wiping some white frosting from your cupcake off with her thumb as you tried to keep your face from cringing.

So far the strong woman act wasn’t coming along so well...

“So...how is married life?”

Wouldn’t you like to know. “It’s very good. You know Steve, he’s just amazing. I’m lucky to have him.”

“Oh, I did heard about your little goof with your erotica from Natalie, and the gift slip up!” she laughed, hooking her arm around yours, she walked with you towards your husband. “And here I was thinking you are a good girl,” she winked.

“I... guess I’m not...”

“I must say though, unfortunately for you I don’t think Steve would like any of that. He’s always been so traditional,” she rolled her eyes, “He has an old soul.”

Yes, you knew that. You knew that he was traditional and an old soul. Of course You did, he was your husband. Why she felt the need to point out the obvious was beyond you. “Well, you know people can be unpredictable,” you countered.

“Yes, well you’re free to explore of course, I just didn’t want you to get your feelings hurt,” she put a hand over yours.

“Peggy,” Steve greeted her.

“Oh don’t mind us. We’re just gossiping about you,” she smirked.

“Really?” he looked over at you with a quizzical face, “All good things I hope.”

“I don’t have anything bad to say about you,” you said giving Peggy a side eye, “Can we dance? Please?”

It didn’t take a lot of convincing because he loved dancing. After a couple of dances it was time for him to give his speech.

Seeing your husband up on the stage, hearing everyone talk about his accomplishments made your heart swell in pride. You really couldn’t believe you were married to someone like him.

You suppose that you understood where Sarah was coming from. It would make sense for someone like Steve to fall for and marry a classy worldly lady like Peggy. There really wasn’t much you could offer him.

***

“Steve,” you huffed, trying to yank on the zipper for like the tenth time, while you loved the dress you needed to get out of it and breathe for a while.

“Yes, doll?” he called for you, entering your closet, smiling at your struggling form. “How can I help?”

“You can get me out of this thing!” you said, turning your back to him.

You were really feeling yourself tonight, you had gotten a facial and a manipedi, a blowout, spending hours on getting ready for battle. You thought you looked good and fierce. But then you took off your makeup and your extensions and were reminded of how Peggy was much more effortlessly beautiful than you. She had often been dubbed as a ‘natural beauty’.

“Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“Is something bothering you?” he asked as he unzipped you.

“No. Will you let me change now?” you turned around, to politely ask him to leave.

“You’ve changed in front of me before.”

“Yes, well I can’t right now.”

“Why not?” he frowned.

“Because...” You couldn’t stop your eyes from turning misty, “I’m ugly...”

“What? Who told you that?” His face instantly flushed with anger as he held onto your forearms, and when you didn’t push him away he pulled you in closer to his chest.

“No one needs to. I know it because I’m not blind,” you confessed, the cool metal of his medal digging into your cheek.

“Then maybe we need to get your eye sight checked. Because you’re the prettiest girl in this whole world. I’ll fight anyone who says otherwise.” He stroked your hair, placing a soft kiss on the top of your head.

“You’ll have to fight the whole world then.”

“If it comes to that then I will.”

You couldn’t help but smile at how protective he was. Propping your chin up on his chest you blinked at him. “Why didn’t you marry Peggy? She’s so much more beautiful.” Your heart was heavy with so many emotions, usually you wouldn’t give in and ask something so dangerous--a question you weren’t sure you wanted the answer to.

Judging by the frown on his face, you were afraid that you had upset him, but then it softened as his pale baby blues twinkled at you, “Why would you say that, doll? Peggy is beautiful, but I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you. I could never even dream of marrying anyone else.”

“I’m sorry,” you sighed. “I know I shouldn’t be comparing myself to others.”

“You really shouldn’t. They don’t measure up to you anyway,” he teased.

“It’s just...” you gulped, not being able to hold his gaze you played with the olive green buttons on his coat, “I heard at the party from Tony, that she will be working with you from now on. Do you think that’s a good idea?”

“You don’t trust me?” his voice cracked.

You whipped your head up, frantically shaking your head from side to side, “No no of course I do! I’m just saying it’s a risky game. To be around her so much... what if old feelings resurface?”

Your heart almost broke as he let go of you, putting some distance between you both, “You know all I ever ask for is that you trust me... and love me. I don’t think it’s a lot.”

You scoffed, “Yeah well, I don’t think me asking you not to work with your ex is a lot. No woman would be okay with her husband spending that much time with her ex.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, “Why can’t I get through to you?”

“Maybe try speaking at a fourth grade level. Then I’ll understand. Since I don’t have a masters in literature from Sorbonne,” you rolled your eyes. Maybe he was intimidated by how smart Peggy is and decided to go for someone younger and dumber.

“I’ve never... been in love with Peggy or anyone but you really,” he told you, his broad shoulders hunching as he let out a sigh, “Not the way I’m in love with you. We were always more like friends than... lovers.”

“Is that better or worse?” you wondered out loud. Isn’t it important for husband and wife to be friends as well? Was that supposed to be a compliment?

“It’s much better. We would go months without seeing each other, and I didn’t miss her. Like I miss you when I’m at work. I can’t wait to get away and come home to you. Peggy is amazing, and I’ll always have a special place for her in my heart, but I would never even think about cheating on you.

But... I understand where you’re coming from. Maybe I would react the same way if you were to work with an ex. So I can just tell her that she’ll have to work with Nat, or someone else.”

“No,” you blurted.

Absolutely not.

Because A - You really did trust Steve not to stray. He wasn’t that type of man. And B - That would be admitting defeat. Admitting to her that you are afraid of her.

“I do trust you, Steve. I think... I just need to work on myself. If we don’t have trust then we don’t have anything right?”

“I trust you too, honey,” he kissed your forehead. “Just talk to me about this stuff okay? You can’t keep it bottled up.” You nodded as he worked on loosening his tie.

“Um... is that uncomfortable?” you asked, watching him pop open the first button of his shirt.

“The uniform? A little. It’s been a while since I put it on.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t wear it at our wedding.” You smiled. Maybe it was a good thing that he didn’t. While he looked so handsome in the black tux he had worn, the uniform would’ve made him irresistible. You would’ve spent the whole evening swooning over him.

“It didn’t feel right, I just wanted to be myself. Uh... doll,” he quirked a brow as he caught you staring at his crotch, “Hey,” he snapped his fingers, “My eyes are up here.”

“Yes, um, of course,” you whipped your head up as soon as you heard him, since you were too busy trying to make out the outline of his johnson, “And what beautiful eyes you have!”

“Tell me something. What is your obsession with this uniform?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” You decided to feign ignorance.

“Really? You’ve been staring at me all night. Do you not like it? Do you like it? Sometimes I think I don’t understand women at all.”

You probably would’ve appreciated his suit even more so if you hadn’t spent so much time festering in your jealousy. “I think... it’s... kinda hot,” you sighed dreamily as he blushed a crimson red. “You’re like this big strong Captain, and I’m like this small woman, like a damsel in distress type of thing.”

“Oh.” Was the only thing that he said. He never believed you would be into something like that, not from all the feminist rants you tend to go on.

“Oh god. You think I’m a weirdo, don’t you?” You put your hands over your face to hide it from him.

“No no, hey, don’t be like that,” he cooed, pulling your hands away so he could look at your pretty face, “I can be your... big, strong Captain. And you can be my damsel in distress.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah. So... how would it work? Do I save you from a burning building or something?”

“No, sweetie. You’re thinking of a fireman.”

“Oh, right,” he blushed, scratching the back of his neck, “We can do the fireman thing if you like. I can... be a fireman.”

“Steve, we don’t have to do anything.”

“I know. But I want to. Come on! Give me something to work with.”

“Okay,” you cleared your throat. “How about... you keep the suit on?”

“On for how long?” he tilted his head like a cute confused puppy, looking down at his suit, “Oh! You mean on while we’re...”

“Yes. And I could, I don’t know, thank you for serving my country.”

“Yeah. I mean medals and all are nice, but I want a special kind of thanks from you, doll.”

“Ooo,” you felt up his biceps through his coat and shirt, he really was strong. “Do you have anything specific in mind?” you asked, batting your lashes.

“Um... yes.... You get on your knees, miss... I mean ma’am, shit,” he cursed as he awkwardly stumbled over his words. “What do I call you? Are you my wife in this scenario?”

“You can just call me doll, captain. I’ll be whatever you want me to be,” you smiled, cheekily pressing your lips to his in a quick peck but he held onto your waist before you could pull away. Sliping his tongue inside your mouth.

“Alright then, doll. Show me how grateful you are,” he puffed his chest out, so he could appear a bit more dominant.

You only giggled, taking your dress off because there was no way you could kneel in so much tulle.

Standing before him in just a strapless bra and a nude thong, you were vulnerable, but not scared anymore. He was your captain, he’d never ridicule you.

“I’m already feeling appreciated,” he said as he ogled you.

You dropped down to your knees, unbuckling him with some help from him, “It’s so big,” you gasped when you looked at his length, pretending to be seeing it for the first time. Although, you were still always surprised with the sheer monstrosity of it.

“We’ll make it fit, doll. Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that,” he smiled, tapping on your mouth, “Open,” he commanded.

You’re a natural, captain. You took a deep breath before opening wide. You’d been having sex regularly for the past three months or so, he had gone down on you more times than you could count, you felt as if he could live between your legs if he could. But he had never once asked you to return the favor, you didn’t have it in you to be the first one to bring it up either.

Licking your lips, you tasted someone of the preejaculate leaking out of his tip before wrapping your mouth around his head, moaning at the salty taste and the essence of him.

“That’s... ugh,” he groaned, “That’s good. Keep going,” he spurred you on, a hand on the back of your head giving you the slightest bit of push.

You took as much of him as you could, stopping halfway through when he hit the back of your throat, you pumped the rest of his length with your palm, holding onto his thick thigh for support, you bobbed your head, increasing your pace when he started moaning loudly.

Rubbing your thighs together to relive some pressure, your throbbing core desperate for some attention and friction, you knew your panties were ruined.

You had read your fair share of cosmos, and the many sex tips they offered, you knew they’d come in handy someday. You swore you remembered reading something about balls... to suck them? Bite them?

You fondled his balls, feeling him tightening in your palm, you were ready to swallow all of you. That was the only proper way of saying thank you.

“Wait,” he growled, pulling you off of him.

You looked up at him, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, doll,” he heaved, “But I gotta come in your pussy.”

Your jaw dropped, to hear the golden boy using such filthy language. “Whatever you say, captain,” you rasped.

Gasping when he yanked you up, pulling you over his shoulder and carrying you to the bed before throwing you down on the mattress.

Although Steve had always been dominant in bed, it was somewhat lowkey and subtle, he was never rough with you, he treated you as if you were made of glass, right now he was treating you as if you were literally a ragdoll.

“Take off your panties,” he ordered you.

You followed quickly, desperate to have him inside you asap, rolling your thing down your thighs and then getting rid of your bra before he even had to ask. You looked at him through your lashes, waiting patiently for his next command.

He hesitated for a moment before saying, “Now touch yourself.” It had always been a wet dream of his to watch you, instruct you as you got yourself off. Since your intention was to please him... he might as well make most of it.

You blinked at him before nodding, “Yes, captain.”

Fondling your breast you pinched your nipple, pulling on it before hissing exaggeratedly, smirking when you saw his hand twitch to touch you.

“What do I do?” you looked up at him with big doe eyes.

He shook his head, circling a hand around your wrist he shoved two of your fingers inside your mouth, “Suck,” he told you. “You like having your mouth stuffed, don’t you?” he asked as you noisily suckled on his fingers.

You shamelessly nodded, hoping that you’d get more opportunities to suck his cock from now on, he pulled your fingers out, bringing them down between your legs, pushing them into your willing channel. His own thumb rubbing on your clit working you up even moreso.

You threw your head back as you felt your climax approaching. “So close... captain.”

But he pulled your hand away from your pussy, tutting at your disobedience, “I didn’t tell you you could come.” He shook your head, giving you a minute to catch your breath before pushing two of his, much larger fingers inside you, “Gotta get you ready, doll. Since you’re so small.”

“Oh! It’s too much...” you moaned, holding onto the bedding.

“How're you gonna take my dick then, doll,” you watched as he licked your slick off of his fingers, “You taste like heaven, honey.”

“Thank you, captain.”

He unbuttoned his coat, he would be much freer without it and fuck you properly like you deserved.

You rolled your eyes when he folded his coat setting down on the floor, when you were literally lying naked before him with your legs spread wide, waiting as his tie and pants followed, “Really?” you scoffed.

“Can’t have them getting dirty, doll.” He knelt on the bed, now only in his shirt, spreading your legs a bit further so he could make room for himself, nudging your intimate lips apart with his length before slowing sinking into you.

He stayed like that for a bit, inside your heat, it felt as if he would explode then and there but he had to savor the moment. To have such a pretty girl wrapped around him.

Hovering over you he placed his elbows on sides of your head so he wouldn’t put too much of his weight on you, and so he could look at your as he fucked you.

He moved his hips against yours, rocking slow and steady, “You like that, doll?”

“Yes,” you nodded as he pulled on your hair to bare your neck to him. Biting your neck to mark you as his, “Do it harder, please, captain.”

“Harder?” he spoke against your neck, pinning both your hands above your head as he started rigorously pounding into you. “That hard enough?”

You were too fucked out to give a coherent answer, or to do anything but nod pathetically and take whatever he gave you.

“Ima come...” you clenched around him as your orgasm washed over you, rendering you immobile and weightless.

He thrusted into you a couple of times before filling you up to the brim - just as he had promised.

“Thank you, doll. That was really nice,” he smiled, laying beside you and pulling you closer to him, he kissed your forehead.

“Thank you, captain. You sure know how to treat a lady right...”

“Maybe we can do this more often,” he suggested as you nodded in reply.

Tags will be in the reblog! Click the link in the bio to be join the taglist or shoot me an ask/dm.

Shout out to my friend lizzygal (you can find her on ao3) who gave me the idea of Steve folding his uniform. It was too hilarious to leave out! Thanks for reading.

Please note that my work is not to be reposted or published anywhere other than my Tumblr or AO3 account without my permission. Reblogs are most welcome though!

#corrupting a good boy #steve rogers fic #steve rogers x reader #chris evans x reader #steve x reader #captain america x reader #steve rogers x you #marvel x reader #avengers x reader #chris evans x you

[anxiousstark]

The four times the Pogues tried to pair you up with JJ + the time they realized you were already dating | JJ MAYBANK

Request:  Hi! I love the whole 5+1 trope so I wanted to request one with “Five times the Pogues tried to pair the y/n with JJ and the one time they realized the pair was already dating.”❤️❤️

I LOVED this idea. I changed it to 4+1. 

Warnings: FLUFF. Swearing (always), mentions of sex. The end might be not as good as the rest, wrote it when I was feeling a little down but I promised to upload today. Enjoy it.

Word Count: 2030

All Rights Reserved. The author, me, don’t allow any type of copy or adaption.

If you guys see my works in other websites, let me know, please. I only have Tumblr.

BIG MASTERLIST 

"Please," You begged, hands squeezing the muscular arm of the boy that was sitting next to you. "Just a little sip, JJ." You pouted. The envy spread through your body as you glimpsed at his pink milkshake, deliciously going up the straw until it reached his lips. You swallowed, mouth-watering. "Please, I'm going to die, JJ."

The blond boy rolled his eyes, reminding you that you didn't want to order anything. He continued happily sipping his milkshake, eyes fluttering close. Those milkshakes should be a sin. They tasted so good, and their coldness could fight against the heat of the summer of the Outer Banks. "Stop looking at me." He groaned. "I'm trying to have a moment with my baby." Of course, he was talking about his so-loved milkshake. His words made the other pogues chuckle while they continued to eat their food.

"JJ," You whimpered. His head snapped towards you, giving you attention for the first time since the waitress delivered the milkshake. "Just a tiny sip."

Nobody could ignore your puppy eyes. Therefore, JJ groaned, moving his glass so you could get a sip. You decided to take your time, admiring the metal straw, which was a project that Kiara decided to start in the Outer Banks. JJ nudged you, impatient to put his lips back on the straw. Finally, you savoured the milkshake, understanding JJ's heart eyes towards it. However, you couldn't stop taking sips, which made him groan while trying to take the straw from between your lips, putting his mouth closer to the metal straw AND your mouth.

The others watched the both of you with silly smiles on their faces. Sarah coughed. "So Y/N," You stopped playfully fighting with the boy sitting next to you to peer at your friend. "Have you thought about what I told you?" A couple of days ago, she started talking about the most handsome boys in OBX, and you weren't interested. Most of them were proud Kooks who would look at you as an inferior individual for not having as much money as them. "I mean," She fakely laughed. "If by the age of 25 you both are single you should date." She was straightforward, making JJ glance at her. She was hoping that both of you would end up being a couple because she had never seen two people having such a strong connection.

What Sarah Cameron and the others didn't know it's that under the table, JJ's right hand rested firmly on your thigh. Fingers caressing the inside, making you shiver.

The day had been awful. You liked your job because it provided you with much necessary money. But you didn't like how some costumers treated you.

Working at The Wreck was amazing, Kiara was there to help you with anything, and you loved her dad. However, when Kooks decided to come inside and order something, there would be nasty comments thrown at you.

Teenager boys labelled your body and beauty as if you were an object, which made you uncomfortable, and as much as you tried to keep calm, you couldn't promise not killing someone. Teenager girls judged your clothes, friends and of course, money. It was awful.

However, today was even more dreadful. Rafe Cameron and his friends had decided to step on The Wreck, which was unusual and meant they were seeking for trouble. As soon as your work clothes ended up being stained by someone's food, you knew the day would be worst as hours went by.

The Cameron boy concluded that it would be a great show if he stretched his leg, making you trip, falling face down on the tray full of food that you were carrying to table number 5. You wanted to cry.

In the other part of the Outer Banks, John B removed dirty clothes from his floor. "I'm so glad you are finally cleaning your room." Sarah leaned on the door, admiring her boyfriend. "It's a fucking mess in here."

"I'm not cleaning," He groaned. "I can't find the keys to the van." He found some dirty underwear, throwing it to the corner of the room.

"JJ took them," She jumped over the filthy clothes laying on the floor. "Don't you remember? Today it's Wednesday. Y/N works until late."

"Oh, true." Every Wednesday and Friday you stayed at work until late. Since you started, the blond boy had decided that he would drive you back home every night, not wanting you to walk on your own. Everyone was surprised by JJ's commitment to driving you every night you worked late. "We need to get them together. They are perfect. They care for each other so much."

"They truly look amazing together. Couple goals." She grinned when John B replied that they were also couple goals.

What John B and the other didn't know it's that as soon as you were inside the car, JJ hugged you tightly, your head resting on his chest while his lips hovered over your forehead. He offered words of comfort, fists clenched thinking of what Rafe had done.

Pope Heyward was sitting on his surfboard, enjoying the smooth flow of the waves, rocking him gently. He examined two of his friends while they were playfully fighting with the water.

You had decided to push JJ out of his board. As soon as he came from under the water, he told John B to take care of his surfboard as he had to drown you for doing that to him. You shrieked, trying to hide behind the girls, but the water slowed you down, and the blond boy was more agile. Everyone paid close attention, goofy smiles decorating their faces as they saw both of you trying to immerse each other.

"Oh my gosh," You turned around, glancing up at JJ. He had the biggest smirk on his face. Your hands were covering your chest, trying to process what he had just done. "Did you just take my top off?" He continued smirking, his right hand coming out of the water, showing the top part of your bikini. "JJ, I'm going to kill you!" You tried to grab the piece of clothing from his hand, your other hand covering your chest. However, he was taller than you, making it impossible.

Pope started making a gesture, telling the others to get out of the water so JJ and you could be on your own. John B was the one who tried to convince you to kick JJ out of his board, knowing that he would try to get revenge, which meant getting real close to you. It was their plan all along. And the next step to their plan was to leave you two alone inside the sea, hoping you guys would end up talking about your relationship.

What Pope Heyward and the others didn't know it's that that wasn't the first time JJ's fingers caressed your back until they arrived at their destination. Not the first time his hands explored every curve of your body. Furthermore, not the first time his fingers easily unclasped your bikini or bra.

Kiara thought that it was the perfect night for something to happen between both of you. You all were friends and cared about each other, but JJ was quite protective when it came to you.

The weight of the heavy rain provoked a powerful noise inside the Chateau, and the thunders seemed to get louder and louder. It was movie night, something you guys did every Saturday. Normally, you would cuddle with the girls while watching the chosen film, but not tonight.

When you came out of the bathroom, you were surprised to see that Kiara was cuddling Pope tightly. Next to them, Sarah rested on John B's chest. Your gaze examined both couples, confused. You always cuddled with the girls, especially in nights like these. You were terrified of loud noises, which affected your anxiety negatively.

The strident sound of thunder made you jump, not thinking twice before running towards JJ, who had an entire couch for himself. "What?" He asked when he saw you looking down at him with big eyes. Then, he noticed the position his friends were in and the fact that there was a huge thunderstorm outside. However, JJ didn't move, placing one of his arms under his head, inviting you to lay down on top of him. That wasn't something new neither, JJ and you cuddled all the time, which was another reason for why the pogues wanted to set you up.

To be honest, none of them paid attention to the film playing in the background. You were soundly asleep on JJ's chest, his right arm under his head while his left arm was secured around your waist. Fingers discretely caressing the patch of skin that was revealed.

What Kiara Carrera and the others didn't know it's that you were each other's safe place. There were night visits at each other houses, silently and lovingly holding each other at night, sometimes not so quietly.

You guys had planned to go to a formal party. At first, the boys didn't want to go, not being comfortable spending time around some stuck up Kooks. But Sarah and Kie had begged the boys, letting them know that their parents were making them go, and they didn't want to go on their own.

The surprise came when everyone was ready to go to the party, fancy dresses and suits. However, there was no sight of JJ. They found him on a hammock he had decided to set, being supported by two big trees. "JJ, dude," John B was the first one to talk, getting closer to his friend. Sarah couldn't hear the conversation as she had to move far from them, her phone ringing. "How aren't you ready for the party yet?"

"I'm not going." His eyes were closed, blond hair being moved by the gentle breeze of the night. "I don't like those Kooks." He gazed at Kie, reassuring her that he wasn't talking about her or Sarah. "I'm going to stay here. Have fun."

"But what about Y/N?" Pope asked, peering at the clock on his wrist. "Are you going to leave her at the party on her own?"

"No," Sarah interrupted, getting back to her friends. "It was Y/N," She showed her phone, being clutched with her fingers as her dress didn't have pockets, ugh. "She spent all morning puking. She isn't coming."

"Then no problem." JJ sighed happily, excited to enjoy a serene night under the moonlight while the breeze caressed his hair and body, stimulating goosebumps on his skin.

"Okay then," Kiara grabbed Pope's hand, interlocking her fingers with his. "There are burgers in the fridge. Let's go, we are going to be late."

Around one in the morning, they arrived at The Chateau, tiring faces and numb feet. The girls and Pope decided to spend the night there, not wanting to walk to their houses or moving at all.

JJ's bedroom was empty, which worried them as it was quite cold outside. "He probably fell asleep on the hammock. We should tell him to come inside." John B offered to go. Moreover, a couple of seconds have gone by when he came back, a big smile on his face. "They are keeping each other warm."

Everyone was confused, running outside to see what was going on, even though John B begged them to be quiet and give them privacy. They looked completely stupid hiding behind some trees, seeing you on top of JJ. Your hands were grabbing his face, kissing him passionately. Maybank's hands were on your waist, going dangerously down, wanting to feel you closer to him.

"You guys going to watch until then end?" They were shocked and embarrassed after being caught by JJ. "We can put a show for you." You giggled, letting your head fall on top of his chest. "Not the first time we do this," He winked. "We have experience."

"What the heck?!" Kiara stepped forward, grabbing her dress so she wouldn't stop on it. "How long has this been going for?"

"Around a year and a half."

"What?!"

#jj maybank #jj maybank x you #jj Maybank x reader #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank fic #jj x you #jj x reader #jj x y/n #jj x oc #jj maybank x oc #jj #jj fanfic #jj fanfiction #jj fanfics #jj fic #jj imagines #jj imagine #jj scenarios #jj maybank imagines #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank fanfic #jj maybank fanfiction #outer banks #obx #obx imagines #obx imagine #obx x y/n #obx x reader #obx x you #outer banks x reader

[felix21im]

"Ice Cold", a Leon Kennedy x reader fanfiction

As an Art and Design student all you want to do is just knuckle down and finish that one goddamn piece you've been working on for months. Too bad your time is constantly stolen by your Waiter job with minimal pay, but hey, at least the tips are good if you unbutton your shirt that one more time.

Masterlist

Chapter 1: Bourbon

“That’s gotta be moved over like two inches to the left.” You muttered to yourself. Your eraser ran across the sketches and removed the pencil lines that you had created earlier. Studying interior design was one of the best ways to secure you that internship you’ve been working so hard for.

“Yoo hoo!” A whistle was heard from beside you, your fellow colleague and best friend tapped you on the shoulder, pulling you out of your study-induced trance. “You’ve got another table to serve. They literally just sat down so make sure that you greet them.” You let out a sigh, laying your latest drawing to the side. On the way to the table you check your hair in a mirror before putting on a smile. You can see two middle aged men talking while looking at multiple files placed on the table. You walk toward them. "Good evening, is there anything I can get for the two of you?"

The larger man with the shorter hair began to speak for the both of them. “Two bourbons please.” He said simply.

“Will they be with ice?” You ask, beginning to write down their drinks order on your small notepad.

“Yeah I’ll have ice in mine please.” The one with longer hair requested with a polite point and a smirk. The other man simply shook his head at the question of ice. You smiled at the two of them as you turned around. A few minutes later you return with both of their drinks and put them in front of them, being careful not to spill anything over their work-stuff. They both thank you with a small nod before you go around to your other tables. A few hours pass and people come and go but these two men still sit at their table, talking, drinking and taking some notes. You went over to their table a few times that evening to refill their drinks or bring some small things to nibble on, but you couldn't find out what they were talking about. It seems that as soon as you went over to them they changed the subject. “A super secret mission.” You chuckled to yourself as you stood at the bar, packing your study materials away. You can’t clean a bar with books and paper all over it.

While cleaning you heard someone clear their throat and you looked up. In front of you stood one of the men, the one with longer hair. “Oh my, excuse me. Can I help you with anything?” The man chuckled lightly and looked at the mess in front of you. “My friend over there and I wanted to get another drink before paying. But it seems you are quite busy here.” You looked at the mess and then at him and you couldn’t stop yourself from checking him out. It seems he noticed it, but didn't say anything. “I’m sorry for that, it won’t happen again. I’ll deliver your drinks to your table right away!” The man nodded and went back to his friend, sitting directly opposite them but also facing the direction of the bar. You let out a small sigh before putting the books away and preparing the drinks for the men. The man never said what drinks he wanted but considering the two of them have only been drinking bourbon, bourbon was a good choice. Before starting you tightened your apron, greatly exaggerating your waist, although you could barely breathe you knew that it made you more attractive to patreons. The patreons liking you equals more tips. While making the drinks you made sure to add enough ice in the second drink, so they just might forgive you for your behaviour. As you placed the two glasses on your serving tray you noticed the long haired man give you a small smirk. You went to their table once more and put the beverages in front of them while smiling at both of them. You also left a bill on the table before heading back to the bar, the echo of your shoes making you feel anxious as you walked, causing you to begin holding your tray in both of your hands in front of your stomach. On your way back you heard one of the men say something, which made the short haired one shake his head. You were wondering if they talked about something you did but didn’t want to be rude and ask them about it. It was pretty late already so only a few other people were still at the restaurant. You wanted to get home at some point that night so you hoped that the last guests would be leaving soon. Just as you thought that, you saw the two men you were serving get up and leave the restaurant. Before going through the exit door the man with longer hair looked back at you and gave you a wink. You let out a small laugh and shook your head. You went to the table they left from to clean up and collect the money. You noticed a small note with something written on it. A phone number, you realised. “Call me ;)” was written beside it. You looked around and put the piece of paper in your pocket with a light smile on your face. That smile quickly turned into a shocked face though as you noticed a massive tip laying next to the bill. You didn't even know what to do, so you just stood there looking at the money. As you looked at the flurry of green bills you could hear footsteps behind you and soon your coworker stood next to you, also looking at the money.

“Well, someone seems to like you”, they laughed “Maybe those apron and shirt tricks you do work too well.” You shook your head and left your coworker standing there as they chuckled at their joke.

A little while later the restaurant was empty thanks to the closing hours, and you cleaned the last tables. But before you had the chance to leave as well, you saw the door opening once again. “I’m sorry, we’re closed!” You looked up and saw the long haired man standing in the doorway. Other than just his hair you could instantly tell it was him, the fancy suit helped a lot. “Did you forget anything? I actually think you left too much money when you left with your friend.” You picked up the cash that was placed in an envelope under the bar and began to get the money out of it. “I can give it right back to you, if that's why you came back.”

The man shook his head and slightly chuckled. “No, the tip was meant to be like that. I was actually wondering..”, he stepped closer toward the bar you were standing at. “..Why didn't you text me yet.”

You had to laugh. “Oh, I’m sorry. Maybe I didn’t have the time yet because I had some work to do and you left that note like ten minutes ago!” You chuckled yet again. “Trust me I was going to call you!”

Now it was his time to let out a dry laugh. “Yeah, I'm sure you would have. Anyways, now that I’m here again and it seems your work is done, how about we get your favorite drink together?”

“I mean we are closed…” You raised your eyebrows and crossed your arms over your puffed out chest. “But I’ll let you get a drink this one time.” He seemed satisfied with that answer so he sat down on one of the bar chairs, followed by him tapping the empty space next to him. “At least let me make your drink before I sit down!” You playfully rolled your eyes and began pouring liquor into a shaker. You noticed him looking at his phone after receiving a message from someone. “Someone at home is missing you already?” You asked jokingly as you placed your fruity, yet strong, favourite drink on the bar.

He shook his head. “Not at all. Just my.. Colleague asking what I'm up to.” He put his phone on the counter. You went around the bar and pushed a glass towards the man and sat down on the empty stool beside him. “I never got your name. I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.” He smirked as he took a sip from the drink. “Not bad.”

You chuckled as you pointed at the name tag that was attached to your shirt. The man looked at you dumbfounded. “Well, this is awkward now. Doesn't seem like a fair trade anymore.”

“I’ll just hope that you were being respectful and you didn’t want to look at my chest.” You winked and couldn’t contain your laughter as you did up the buttons on your shirt, hiding the “money makers” as your best friend would call them. The man looked at your chest for a moment as you did up your buttons before quickly looking away. You could see his face get a little red, although you weren't sure if it was a reaction to what you just said or the alcohol finally showing effect. He cleared his throat and seemed to want to change the subject. “Ehem..the name’s Leon S. Kennedy, by the way.”

“Ooo S. Kennedy huh? Am I going to have to guess what the S stands for?” You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear as you talked.

“Go for it.” He laughed and took another sip of the drink.

“Uhhh… Steven?” A head shake. “Sam?” A no again. ”Sexy?” A chuckle but still a no. “Ugh I give up!”

“It’s Scott.”

“Scott, huh? Sounds kinda cute.” You laughed as you looked at Leon and then the clock behind him. “Even though we haven’t spent much of an evening together we’re going to have to call it quits, I have to lock up now.”

Leon turned around to look at the clock. “That’s a shame.” He turned back to face you. “Y’know I’ve got some drinks back at my place if you’re interested.” He raised his eyebrows as he asked for the date to continue.

You thought about the offer for a moment, you didn’t have any classes in the morning so maybe it would be fun. “Wine?” You asked and he replied with a nod. As the two of you stood up from your stools you quickly paced around the restaurant making sure everything was perfect. The lights were off. All of the switches were off. And finally the security alarm was turned on. You shuffled Leon along as you left the restaurant, making sure that he wasn’t trapped in there when you locked the door. “Alright, that’s everything!” You placed your keys into your work bag and slung it over your shoulder. As the two of you walked to the parking lot you looked down at your phone and secretly texted your roommate saying you were going to be out much longer than anticipated and that your location was being shared with them. Just in case.

Leon fished his keys out of his pocket and tapped a button on the car keys, causing a nearby car to light up. With the size of that tip that Leon left an expensive black sports car belonging to him shouldn’t have been a surprise. “Woah! What car is this?” You asked, not knowing anything about cars apart from the fact that most of them have four wheels.

“It’s a Porsche Nine-Eleven.” He replied. “It’s my favourite.”

“Your favourite? Meaning you have multiple cars?” You questioned. “Can I borrow one? I don’t even have a car.” You chuckled as you opened the door to the luxury car. Leon chuckled too as he got into his seat and tapped a few buttons on the dashboard. The entire car began to roar as it’s engine was turned on, making your entire body shake. Making your entire body heat up. “Is it hot in here or is it just me?” You asked.

He chuckled. “It’s because your heated seat is on. I can turn it off if you would like.”

As the car traveled you looked out of the window and when turning to your left you noticed that the lights in the car softly lit up Leon’s face as he drove the car. Showing off his sharp jaw and slight stubble.

After a twenty minute drive you step out of the car onto the gravel driveway and you hear the stones crunching underneath your feet. Leon walks up beside you and leads you up the stairs to the front door. Reaching into his front right pocket he pulls out his keys and unlocks the double doors, allowing you to walk through before he did so too and then close the door behind him. “Woah! You have such a cool house!” The large modern chandelier reflected onto the marble flooring in the entryway. Leon kicked off his shoes and pushed them over to the side of the wall, prompting you to do the exact same. “You have no idea how much I hate these shoes, they are so uncomfortable, especially when you wear them for twelve hour shifts without sitting down.”

“Why on earth do you wear them if they hurt you?” He asks as he takes off his jacket, hanging it up on a coat rack beside the door. He reaches out his hand to take off yours as well, to which you respond with a smile. You turn around and he carefully takes it off of you, followed by him then placing it on the coat rack next to his own.

"I don't have much to choose from when it comes to clothing. Just in general our work uniforms aren't really the best of the best."

Together the two of you went into the kitchen and you sat at a bar stool, leaning on the counter. As you waited for Leon to fix you up a drink you noticed just how empty the house has been so far. “Wow it’s quite empty, going for the minimalistic vibe huh?”

Leon shook his head as he placed two wine glasses down on the counter, both with ice. “I just haven’t gotten around to decorating this place yet.” He poured both glasses full and sat then leant on the counter in front of you, placing your drink next to your hand. “I mean I’ve only been here for like 3 years but I’m a busy man.”

You picked up your drink and almost dropped it after hearing that response. "Three years? You must be reaaally busy if you didn't have time for at least some decoration. What are you doing all the time anyway?" You took the drink and a small sip before standing up with it still in your hand. Leon looked at you kind of confused, but following you nevertheless. You walked around the kitchen, then the other rooms. You were talking nonstop about the stuff Leon could put on the walls, the floor or just anywhere really. He couldn't even say anything because it seems you were in your own world already planning the entire interior design of his house. Leon was following you through all the rooms as if he was actually visiting you and not the other way around. While planning the designs for Leon’s home you realised just how excited you were to do this officially as a job in the future. Creating your own interior design company and being your own boss was something you had in mind ever since you were a child. After who knows how long you both finished your drinks and also the house tour. You ended back at the kitchen where you started and both sat down on what seems to be the only chairs in this humongous house. Leon went away for a few seconds before returning with yet another bottle of what appeared to be some expensive wine. “You’re not just trying to get me super drunk so you can kidnap me, right?” You asked him jokingly, but also slightly worried. After all, what were you doing here in a complete strangers house?

“If I was going to kidnap you I would have done it already, buttercup.” You gulped but shrugged it off after looking at Leon, who smiled at you. Maybe it wouldn't be too bad being kidnapped by him. He's got quite the nice home after all. Leon stopped you in your thoughts as he handed you a glass of wine. "It's really good, trust me. Nothing against your favourite drink, but still very tasty." You took a little sip from the wine and looked at him with big eyes.

"Wow. This is actually really good. I've tasted many different brands of wine but never one like this. You do know your stuff, huh?"

He let out a small laugh which also made you smile. You didn't know if it was the alcohol but you suddenly felt really hot sitting so close to this handsome man. "Anyway, what are you doing besides working at that restaurant? I saw some school books at the bar earlier, were they yours?"

You nodded lightly. "I'm currently studying Art and Design but I needed some money to even afford all that stuff. So that's why I ended up at that restaurant." He looked at you, maybe even a little sad. But maybe you just started imagining things.

"You don't have any family that supports you or anything?"

You shook your head. "That's kind of a difficult topic. My parents aren't really what they used to be after.. well, let's just say some inconveniences." You took another big sip, showing Leon that you didn't wanna talk about it anymore. Even though he wanted to ask, he stopped himself before ruining the whole evening, or well, night. You sighed and looked at him. "On our tour I think we missed the bathroom. Mind showing me the way?" He nodded and led you through the house. As you were in the bathroom Leon went up to his workroom and picked up an envelope. He went downstairs again and hid the filled envelope in one of your jackets' pockets. After a while you rejoined him in the kitchen looking really tired. "Leon, I don't wanna sound rude but I’ve had a long day and I think I really need some sleep. Do you mind calling me a taxi?" He saw just how tired you were so he didn't try to make you stay any longer. He grabbed his phone, called you a taxi and gave you some money for it.

You wanted to decline, but Leon didn't want to argue so you had no chance but to pay with his money. "I brought you here in the first place so the least I can do is pay for your ride home", he said. You both then went to the entrance where Leon helped you put on your jacket. After that you both sat down outside on the stairs waiting for the taxi to arrive. Neither of you said a word, but it wasn't a weird silence, you both really enjoyed each other's company and after a few moments of sitting on the cold stairs a car arrived. Leon brought you to the door and you told the driver your address. You gave Leon a small wave as the taxi began to drive off...

#resident evil #re2 #re4 #re6 #resident evil vendetta #leon Kennedy #leon s Kennedy #leon x reader #leon Kennedy x reader #leon s Kennedy x reader #x reader #resident evil x reader

[alltooreid]

Invisible String

Although Spencer Reid and the Reader don’t find themselves in a romance with each other until well into their adulthood, their relationship has been decades in the making. Almost as if something as been pulling them together all these years. 

A/N: sorry for such a long wait but i’ve been struggling a lot mentally as of late. i hope you guys enjoy this one shot!! As always requests are open and heavily encouraged!! And of course this is inspired by the taylor swift song of the same name :)) Also keep in mind although the following scenes are heavily inspired by some scenes in Criminal Minds, elements of them have been slightly altered to fit in Y/N as a character.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Type: a cute strangers to lovers fluff fic!

Word Count: 3.9K

Content Warnings: typical criminal minds case discussion, mentions of child trafficking when discussing this case, but no real detail. slight spoilers for season eight (beginning maeve stuff) and tiny spoilers for season fifteen (briefly mentions max but nothing really important to the plot at all)

“Time, curious time Gave me no compasses, gave me no signs Were there clues I didn't see?”

You had met Spencer Reid 3 times before you had really met him.  

It was almost silly to think about it now. Now that you and Spencer have been dating for 3 years, it was strange to believe there were so many chances for you two to meet years earlier.

When you were sixteen years old, you got your first part time job. You worked at a self-serve frozen yogurt shop called Iced Dreams. You hated it so much. Your manager was a total creep, your older coworkers were rude and condescending to you, since you were one of the youngest people working there, but most of all you hated the uniforms.

Consisting of a very stupid looking hat, bright pink with randomly embrodiered teal patterns, an outdated bright teal shirt, it had been given to you from a dirty bin in the back, and judging by the sewn in shoulder pads, it had to be at least a couple decades old.

So one day, you didn’t wear the hat.

It wasn’t entirely purposeful. You couldn’t find it, you searched your room, you searched your car, so eventually you had to leave without it to prevent being late. Still, as you clocked it and passed the box of extras in the office something made you decide to leave it alone.

You were about 8 minutes into your shift when your manager approached you. “Y/N? Where’s your hat sweetheart?” You hated this man so much. You had gone to your parents time and time again, recounting his creepy behavior towards you and the other teenage girls who you worked with, but they refused to let you quit.

When you had started working there, he used to enforce this ridiculous rule that all the female workers had to wear skirts as part of their uniform, but you had gathered all the sixteen and seventeen year olds who worked there and all threatened to quit if he didn’t change the policy. So you were no stranger to breaking and defying the rules.  

“Yeah I couldn’t find it, sorry.” you shrugged.

He chuckled and reached his hat out to touch your face. You jerked back, you almost wanted to refuse to wear one of the stupid extra hats just so that you could get fired.

“Well, Y/N its policy sweetie. No matter how special you are to me you still need to wear the hat. There’s extras in the office.”

“No way I’m wearing one of those. I bet they have like lice or something.”

He pursed his lips and sighed “Well I suppose that beautiful hair is just too pretty to wear a used hat huh. . . What do you suggest? If you’re working you have to wear it.”

You laughed, “Well you could let me go home.”

He paused, “Why don’t you go sit in the office, I’ll come talk to you in a minute.”

So you did, for about 10 minutes you sat in the office, surrounded by frozen yogurt flavor marking posters and boxes of old uniforms, and each passing minute you feared for the worst. Maybe you were actually getting fired? You really didn’t want to go that far, because, as much as you hated it, you really needed this job.

When your manager finally came to talk to you he held a small salted caramel frozen yogurt, your personal favorite flavor, and a twenty dollar bill. He handed them both to you.

“You seem so stressed Y/N, why don’t you take the day and go get lunch. My treat,” he said, smiling that weird twisted smile that always made your full body shiver.

However you were broke as hell, and no teenager in their right mind would ever pass up free food, so you took it, grabbed your keys and started to leave

Yet as soon as you walked out the back door you dropped your frozen yogurt, cup fully upside down, onto the pavement. You cursed, you hadn’t even taken a bite of it yet, and it looked like he had put coconut flakes on it, and you loved coconut. Still, you had your twenty bucks, and that was a pretty sweet pay out considering you were only clocked in for about 20 minutes.

So you got Chinese food, and spent what was supposed to be your shift in the shopping mall across town, completely and blissfully unaware of the fact the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI was dragging your manager away in handcuffs.

➽───────────────❥

Young Spencer Reid had only joined the FBI about a month ago. Despite being a genius, and providing crucial information to the solving of cases, he was aware of the most obvious. He was only twenty two years old, and he was scrawny as hell.

He felt this intense need to prove himself, especially to make Gideon proud.

So when they got a case about a the kidnapping and sex trafficking of teenage girls, he saw it as something he could really involve himself in. Based on the profile, it wasn’t going to be a large, strong, confident unsub who Morgan needed to tackle. This man would be ugly sure, but he would be a manipulative mastermind. Reid could work with that, he could prove himself.

He surprised everyone with his sheer work ethic and determination to find this man, and through consistently revising and delivering the profile soon enough they got a hit. A young woman in her early twenties called the tipline and reported her own manager. Insisting he fit the profile perfectly, and described how strangely he treated the minors who worked there, and how he almost exclusively hired young girls, treated them great and then switched as soon as they became legal.

So Garcia did her magically digging, and soon enough the FBI was tearing up a frozen yogurt shop, looking for any evidence of pedophilia. Garcia was even brought along, as she was pivotal to discovering any secret files in his computer.

At first, all they could find were strange compilation videos and under employees skirts. Spencer, and the rest of the team, were struggling to connect how he could get so many videos from an angle like this without anyone noticing or reporting him, until Gideon uncovered an old dusty pair of shoes, in which the right one held a small camera at the toe.

Although this was absolutely disgusting, it wasn’t enough to prove he was running the ring or kidnapping the girls, so Garcia kept digging. Meanwhile, Spencer tried to make himself useful by checking out the back of the store.

That’s where he found your clock-out receipt.

“Hey guys, we might want to take a look at this,” he shouted out.

Morgan grabbed the paper from his hand, “Ok, I don’t get it kid, it’s trash.”

Spencer pointed to the details on the slip, “Yeah but it says here she clocked out 18 minutes ago after only working for 23 minutes and 46 seconds. If this guy is our unsub, this girl could be in a lot of trouble.”

“Maybe she’s still here, has anyone checked out the parking lot yet?”

Spencer shook his head, and followed Morgan out the back door. There they discovered some almost completely melted salted caramel frozen yogurt.

Morgan bent down to investigate, “Yeah, we gotta get this to the lab, but I can tell you right now that there’s clearly more than just coconut topping this yogurt. It also means we have another victim.”

Spencer crouched down as well, “Not necessarily.”

“What do you mean kid? We’re missing a teenage girl and we’ve already found illegal evidence on this guy's computer. She’s in trouble.”

“Well judging the shape and inscription of these pills it appears to be some pretty strong rohypnol, almost certainly prescription grade. And ingesting it like this means she probably would have begun to feel its effects fairly early, I would predict 15 minutes. She clocked out 18 minutes ago, so even if she left exactly at that time she would have certainly crashed her car on the way home. The nearest residence is 8 minutes away from here, we’re in a complete shopping district. There’s only two cars out here and neither have a passed out driver, so I would bet she didn’t eat any of it. Also, the only spoon out here is still wrapped in plastic, “ Spencer analyzed.

Morgan sighed, “Well what do we even do then?”

Before Spencer could answer Hotch opened the back door. “We got him.”

Spencer turned to Morgan, “I’m sure her phone number is somewhere inside, I say we call her and make sure she’s ok. She probably doesn’t even know this is happening right now.”

So he did find your phone number, and although he initially pushed the phone to Morgan, he just chuckled and pushed it back.

“No way pretty boy. You’re the know-it-all with all that profiling out there, you can call her,” and before he could protest Morgan left, so Spencer was left to call you.

And strangely, for it being the first time he would ever interact with the love of his life, he thought nothing of it.

And that was the first time you had met Spencer Reid.

➽───────────────❥

The second time was years and years later, when you were waitressing night shifts to make extra money. You had never forgotten meeting Spencer Reid the first time, but this was the first time you would ever see his face.

You were slightly concerned when you got a call from a man, whose name you had now long forgotten, claiming he worked for the FBI. Although you weren’t incredibly surprised to hear your manager committed such heinous crimes against children, you were taken aback by how close you had come to becoming one of his victims.

But that was 9 years ago. In your college days it became a fun story you told at frat parties, but you were 25 now. Sometimes you would think about the incident when you couldn’t sleep, and if you were feeling feisty you would use it as an icebreaker or a “two truths, one lie” statement, but otherwise you didn’t really think about it.

You had plenty of other things to worry about, in fact, that’s exactly why you worked so much. It was so much easier to forget when you were constantly preoccupied with complaining customers and terribly awkward blind dates.

You had just sat this man, incredibly handsome, however it was clear he was on some kind of date. His reservation was for two, and he spent way too much time adjusting his clothes and table setting for him to not be trying to impress someone special. He also brought a gift, which judging by the packaging and shape, seemed to be some kind of wrapped book.

Even though he was 15 minutes early for his own reservation, he still looked really nervous, almost like he already believed she might not show up. You couldn’t help yourself, you had to go talk to him.

“Anyone ever tell you you should model?” you started with.

He looked up “Excuse me?”

“Sorry for being so bold, you just look so familiar,” he weirdly sounded very familiar as well, but you didn’t tell him that. “Are you sure you haven’t modeled? You have excellent bone structure. I bet you could.”

He laughed to himself, “yeah I’m sure.”

“Well your date is very lucky either way. I wish I had a boyfriend as handsome as you. Actually I wish I had a boyfriend period, but that’s a whole other story.”

He chuckled, and although you knew in your heart that you shouldn’t be flirting with him considering he was 15 minutes away from being actively on a date talking to him made you feel something you hadn’t felt in a long time. “What happened with your boyfriend? Do I even dare ask?”

“Well I kind of always knew he wasn’t super interested in me, but I really liked him, so I did my best to ignore his wandering eyes,” you sighed. “That didn’t stop him from leaving me for his coworker though.”

“That’s terrible.”

You smirked, “That’s not even the worst part, he broke up with me over a 27 second phone call. He didn’t even let me respond, he just kind of hung up.”

“I’m sorry, no one deserves that. Especially not you. I’ve only been talking to you for a couple minutes and I can tell that.”

“Oh really? What makes you so sure?”

“I’m pretty good at reading people.”

You smiled, “Well I should probably stop flirting with you now, considering your date hasn’t even started yet. And don’t worry, she’ll show, you’re so handsome she’d be stupid not to.”

He looked confused. “You were flirting with me?”

You laughed, “I thought you were good at reading people?”

He smiled back at you, and it made your heart soar, this silly, pure goofy smile that made you want to replace his date and have dinner with him right then and there.

You walked back to your hostess stand. A couple minutes later you noticed the handsome stranger on the phone. You thought nothing of it until later when a woman came in, clearly nervous, holding a gift bag.

“Can you give this to Spencer Reid for me please?” You recognized the name, the man you were just speaking with had filed his reservation under it.

“Um, yeah sure, aren’t you going to go in? He’s at that table over the-” but before you could finish your sentence the woman was gone. Your heart sank, poor Spencer, how could someone drop their date off a gift but stand them up anyway? That’s just cold.

When you get up to bring the gift to him, he’s already heading out of the restaurant himself.

“Sir? Spencer? Dr. Reid?” he turned his head. “A lady came in and dropped this off for you.”

His face dropped, it almost looked like he was about to cry. “Thank you,” he said as he looked up at you before leaving.

He ran out the door, both gifts in hand and whipped his head around a few times before sighing and speeding off in one direction. Even before you learned what happened after that and leading up to it, you felt terrible for the handsome stranger.

How could you not for someone so clearly distressed? Someone so clearly in love?

➽───────────────❥

7 years and a divorce later you were spending your Saturday in a park, strangely contemplating love itself. Although you barely remember that night all those years ago when you spoke to Spencer, he did. Vividly. In fact, on this Saturday you both were in a public park, contemplating your many failed attempts at true love.

It was your first wedding anniversary without your husband. Although you had only been married for two years, you still were having a hard time navigating life without him. 

You started to wonder if you would ever find the true love you had been wishing for since your youth. Was 32 too late? Had you lived out all of your opportunities?

When you were little your mother had told you that all soulmates were attached at the left ring fingers, by small, incredibly thin strands of gold string, invisible to the naked eye. She insisted that these strings were constantly trying to pull you and your soulmate together, and that when life was ready for you two to meet, you would. 

Until then, you would have small, mindless interactions. Things you wouldn’t think about, maybe even things that weren’t interactions at all. You would get the same commercial jingle stuck in your head. You would both get an intense craving for the same food. You’d have the same dream. 

As a kid you were obsessed with this idea, you thought it was so romantic, and you fully believed everything your mom told you about it. You always asked her for more stories, and at bedtime you refused to sleep unless she would tell you more.

But now you were sure soulmates, true love even, didn’t exist. The invisible pretty gold strings your mother weaved fantastic stories with were completely fabricated. If they weren’t, you would have seen the clues by now.

Right?

➽───────────────❥

Spencer Reid was given an assignment from his therapist. He had to spend his Saturday off trying to interact with a stranger. Making friends with someone other than his colleagues may seem like a simple task for some, but it was something the young genius had almost no experience with.

He understood that it was probably for the best. He wasn’t exactly great with relationships of any kind, but especially not romantic ones. It didn’t take a genius to know that a couple of flirtations, a dead girlfriend he had only seen once, and a long time unrequited (or at least he thought unrequited) infatuation with his best friend and godsons’ mother was not a very great track record.

He, just like you, was also beginning to believe that he was hopeless when it came to love. That 38 was too old, that his time to meet someone and have the children he dreamed of had long passed.

But right as he was about to call JJ, to see if she would invite him in on the case Garcia had started to work on, he saw you.

Unlike you, he remembered your face and your interaction vividly. That almost date with Maeve was one of the biggest defining moments of his life, and what are the chances that the waitress from that very night was now less than 30 feet away from him, reading under the green leaves of a tree.

He wasn’t going to say anything, until he saw the book you were reading.

The Narrative of John Smith.

It must have been a sign, for what he wasn’t exactly sure yet, but it just had to mean something. The universe had to be reaching out to him, he had experienced crazier things.

And just as he was about to walk over to you, to close the gap between the gold strings tied around your ring fingers, a child interrupted his train of thought.

“That’s a strange haircut.”

➽───────────────❥

Derek Morgan and Spencer Reid were finally reuniting after many years. They barely got to see each other these days, but even though he was teaching and working at the BAU, Spencer still was willing to clear his schedule to second Derek suggested they meet up.

Morgan was excited as well, both to see his friend and to hopefully help him get a date. Sure, he had liked what he had heard about Max, but he wasn’t exactly surprised it had only lasted a couple months between her and Spencer. They just seemed too different.

Plus, now he got the chance to play wingman again, and he was ecstatic about that. Spencer not so much.

“I don’t know Morgan, it’s only been a couple months since we broke up. Wouldn’t it be too early to start talking to other people?”

“Pretty boy, you and I both know that the rate in which you’ve had relationships is not even close to the average. You need to balance that out somehow.”

Spencer sighed, he knew Derek was right, but he still felt strange.

“Morgan, have you ever heard of the red string of fate?”

“No, but I’m sure I’m about to hear all about it.”

“It’s an East Asian philosophy, based on the discovery that the ulnar artery connects the heart with the pinky finger, actually that’s where the belief in pinky promises come from. The reason it’s integrated in so many different cultures is that-”

“Kid, you’re losing me here,” Morgan interrupted. “Finish your thing about the string.”

“Oh yeah, sorry. It’s the idea that human relations are predestined by a red string that the gods tie to the pinky fingers of those who find each other in life. Legend has it that the two people connected by this thread will have an important story, regardless of the time, place or circumstances. The red string might get tangled, contracted or stretched, as surely often happens, but it can never break. Essentially, the idea is that although we might not realize it, our lives move in a pre-ordained direction, guided by invisible strings that are woven into the fabric of the Universe itself. And all the while, the red thread connecting us to our distant soulmates is getting shorter.”

“Well it’s an interesting theory kid, but it’s a lot to think about. I mean, we’re in a bar, let loose a little bit. Not every interaction has to be about getting closer to your soulmate. And sure, maybe you’ll meet them one day, maybe even soon. But you’re here now, and just because your one true love may not be, doesn’t mean it’s not worth it to be here.”

Spencer sighed, “You’re right. I don’t even know if I believe in that anyway, maybe I’m just looking for something to explain this all.

Derek patted his friend on the shoulder, “okay pretty ricky, this is how it’s about to go down. I’m going to buy you two drinks. You’re going to take both of them, and go find someone, anyone here to go talk to.”

“Ok, I think I can do that. Who?”

Derek looked around, trying to find who he believed would be the best match for his friend. “How about her?” he asked, pointing at you.

Spencer couldn’t believe it when he looked. There you were, the girl, the one he had met three times before, even if he could only remember two. The woman he knew was some sort of universe sent sign that Saturday he saw you underneath the greenery. The girl he was so close to talking to before he was interrupted by Max’s nephew. The woman who (and he obviously did not know this at the time) he would marry 3 years later. The one who would carefully knit the baby blankets for all of their friends and exes. The one who he would adopt 3 children with. The woman who, he was now sure, was at the other end of his invisible string. The girl he needed to talk to right now.

“Is it just me,” Morgan said, “Or does she look kind of familiar?”

“Yes,” Spencer responded, “yes she does.” He got up quickly and started making strides towards you.

“Wait!” Morgan called, “You forgot your drinks!”

“I don’t need them!” he shouted back. When he sat down next to you, you smiled. It made his heart soar, you had this silly, pure goofy smile that made him want to ask you out right then and there.

Instead he settled on the only conversation starter he could think of.

“Have you ever heard of the invisible string story?”

And you couldn’t help but laugh.

“A string that pulled me Out of all the wrong arms right into that dive bar Something wrapped all of my past mistakes in barbed wire Chains around my demons, wool to brave the seasons One single thread of gold tied me to you”

- Thank you for reading! Please reblog and let me know what you think :))

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfic #reid #Criminal Minds Reid #Criminal Minds Spencer Reid #reid fanfic #reid fanfiction #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fluff #reid x reader #spencerreidxreader #spencer reid taylor swift

[smallblip]

You asked, I deliver! Part II of Accidental baby acquisition💖 I lost one of the asks 😩 but anon who asked about baby Udo, I named the baby in your honour! Saddle up cowboys! I’m not good with sequels but here we are-

Babygate:

the scandal that implies that a certain boy band member cheated on his partner (another band member) and had a kid even when the mom was never pregnant.

- urban dictionary

—

Reiner thinks things are alright. Life is definitely picking up. Pieck still sends him excerpts of her dirty fanfiction to proofread, Bertholdt is still doing all he can to “retire at 30”, Annie might have eloped with said boyfriend. But he’s seeing Porco on the regular now, he’s really cute, he’s got a nice ass. Reiner can’t complain.

He’s also recently donated his Levi Ackerman standee. Only because it’s getting increasingly hard to reconcile the fact that he has a life sized cutout of his colleague’s boyfriend in his room.

What he can complain about is said colleague (and friend) dropping bombs on him. He’s one of the moderators of one of the bigger No Name servers. Sometimes he wonders if that’s a conflict of interest because, well, he knows the guy on a first name basis. But today he has other concerns. He sees his notifications blowing up and decides to go on the No Name server. And lo and behold. There’s a paparazzi shot of Levi and Hanji with a stroller taking a walk in a new channel called “MYSTERY FAMILY?”.

He cancels his plans with Porco. “Don’t text me for the next few hours, got a fire to fight.” He clicks send, and feels kinda bad, so he sends Porco really dank meme to appease him. (That doesn’t stop Porco from doing exactly what Reiner told him not to do and demanding an explanation every five minutes).

He forces himself to take a deep breath before texting Hanji-

“Hanji… I don’t mean to be rude but…

WHAT THE FUCK?”

—

So here begins babygate. A conspiracy theory that took the Internet by storm.

“Levi Ackerman had a secret marriage! He was keeping this from us from the start!”

“It’s a publicity stunt to keep No Name relevant during their hiatus!”

“It’s an elaborate scheme by the company to punish Levi for announcing the hiatus without their knowledge!”

“Levi’s mystery partner was sent by the lizard people to take control of his mind and produce half-lizard, half-human hybrid babies to take over the world! What a bitch!” (This is Hanji’s favourite).

And the internet’s favourite- this is all an elaborate scheme to cover up the scandalous love affair between Levi and Eren- the band’s guitarist.

“What the fuck?” Levi had said during dinner once, to which Reiner had to swallow his food and pretend he never read or actively looked up ereri content. Yes. Reiner knows the name of their ship.

Levi hadn’t been too worried before, but when pictures of them shopping for baby stuff leaked online, something snaps. Something snaps and Erwin tells him he needs more time to figure out the biggest PR crisis in No Name history.

It’s Levi. Levi is the PR crisis.

So in the meantime, no shock reveals, no more social media, (if possible) no more leaving the house with pregnant girlfriend in tow. “Don’t do ANYTHING.” Erwin had said, “especially not you!” Erwin had directed that at Eren, who suggested he makes an announcement. Erwin shudders. He remembers all the past scandals they got themselves into just because Eren, bless him, didn’t know when to shut up.

“I’m sorry…” Levi says to Hanji when they’re cuddled up on the couch watching a documentary on whale migration.

“Huh?” Hanji says, voice muffled through her incessant sniffling because “whales are delivered tail first, Levi! They wear their mothers like hats!”

He apologises for putting her through the mess that is him and his job. And Hanji smiles at him. He wonders if their kid will look like her. He’s hoping they would.

“Levi…” Hanji sighs, taking his face in her hands, “that night at the bar I thought to myself ‘this man has a face I would risk it all for’… I think this counts within the realms of ‘all’”

Levi scoffs, but a smile is threatening the corners of his lips. Erwin’s nagging over the phone fades a little and he sinks a little lower into the couch. He sighs one more time for good measure before saying-

“So… you wanna know which my favourite babygate theory is?”

—

“And you’re really not bothered by all this?” Reiner asks, in an emergency meeting that he had scheduled into her calendar. He hates that he’s packing things into her already busy schedule when she’s about to pop but, he figures it’s better now than when the baby’s actually out. He had booked a meeting room and everything, figuring if he projected some of the crazy shit they’re saying on the fan boards up on screen, Hanji would start taking this seriously. Because if Reiner knows anything, it’s that the fans will do anything to keep their ship afloat.

He scrolls past another post on the lizard people and Hanji gets him to pause.

“I mean… A little?” Hanji pinches her fingers together.

“Hanji…” Reiner sighs, “you and Levi discuss and rate babygate conspiracy theories you find online I don’t think you’re taking this seriously at all…”

Hanji looks at Reiner- an absolute state of panic. And she considers panicking for a moment. She’s read articles dissecting babygate and although they’re absolutely batshit, Hanji appreciates how well-researched they are. Which is a little scary. To be fair to Levi, he’s been trying to get her to worry. “I can’t keep you safe all the time, you have to be careful” like he’s going off to war somewhere. But it’s not in Hanji nature to worry about things like this. She’s a researcher at a lab who lived an ordinary life up until the point the universe hit her with a-

Sike! Levi Ackerman is your baby daddy! What are you gonna do about it?

And now she knows what headcanons and lemons are, and she really doesn’t know what to do with that knowledge. So Hanji decides, she’ll do nothing. She’ll go on indulgently long walks Levi in tow, she’ll talk his ear off about work. And like a good girlfriend, she’ll listen to his demos (and enjoy them) and tell him “are you sure anger rhymes with danger?”.

“I don’t really know how to worry about anything beyond our samples getting contaminated…” Hanji says, sheepish. Reiner sighs. He doesn’t want to be a wet blanket on Hanji’s life. He wants to be fun Reiner. Cool as a cucumber. Reiner who manages to make it through dinner at Hanji’s without having to excuse himself to hyperventilate in her bathroom because Levi is right there. And he’s so afraid that he might just be able to read his mind and find out he had looked up Levi Ackerman x y/n fanfiction once in his foolish youth (youth being approximately four months back)

Reiner shudders.

“Yeah okay… That’s um… That’s cool… Right?” He says.

Hanji shrugs.

—

So Levi Ackerman is your baby daddy. Now what?

You go into labour of course, with a matter of fact- “oh. Look Levi. The water broke.” All while refusing to leave the house until you demolish that amazing sandwich he made for you. You go into labour and you yell and grunt like a beast as you squeeze the life out of your baby daddy because he kinda deserves it. You both kinda deserve this pain. Take it as heavenly punishment for being horny and stupid if you will.

And in the middle of it Hanji thinks huh, this feels like a mix of a reality TV show from MTV and a badly written fanfiction. Except Hanji isn’t a teen mom and she’s too old for self-insert fiction that involves a lead singer of a popular band.

But Levi is here, and he doesn’t complain one bit even though he looks like he’s about to pass out. So as far as drunken one night stands go- this is pretty damn aspirational.

The baby enters the world with a huge cry.

“Kid’s got a huge set of lungs…” Levi says, but his own voice is quivering.

“Just like her dad…” Hanji smiles.

As he watches Hanji fall asleep with their baby on her chest, Levi thinks fuck it. Fuck keeping this under wraps. Fuck the fans and them enjoying how Eren gets on his nerves. Fuck Erwin and his “Levi. You’re giving me a headache. You are the cause of this headache.” Because the baby has Hanji’s nose and his eyes and he loves them more than anything in the world.

He snaps a picture of them and tags bigdaddyzoë-

“Welcome to the world, my love.”

—

Reiner can’t help the tears that well in his eyes after seeing the picture Hanji had sent him of the baby-

“He says hi to his favourite uncle!” Was the caption, and Reiner could only reply with a crying cat meme and an incoherent text that Hanji favourites.

He’s on the bus on the way to the hospital when his phone buzzes incessantly. It’s Porco.

“REINER WHAT THE FUCK.”

“LEVI ACKERMAN IS HANJI ZOË’S BABY DADDY?”

“HANJI ZOË MY PHD SUPERVISOR?”

“LEVI ACKERMAN OF NO NAME?”

“REINER WHAT THE FUCK?”

He sends a reply at the entrance of the hospital-

“Welcome to my world”

—

Reiner thinks things are alright. He’s one of the moderator of one of the bigger No Name servers, so he can block and remove people at his discretion. Some days he lets it get to his head. It makes him feel like a king. But today, he’s putting out fires.

Erwin decided their PR strategy was absolutely no strategy, because “they’re zooming in on the pixels Levi. Once they doubt the pixels, they won’t believe anything we’re saying”. With that. Babygate has officially taken on a life of its own. Eren still sends Levi babygate articles to annoy him, and to Hanji because she asked very nicely. Hanji thinks Erwin’s strategy makes sense, Levi thinks it’s just lazy. But Erwin framed a certificate that says “survived a PR crisis (sort of)” that Hanji had insisted be hung up on their wall, so that closes one chapter. Besides, Eren has been spotted going out on dates with a mystery girl. Which has the double effect of diverting attention away from Levi and exacerbating babygate because “see? Told you the company’s doing all they can to prove they’re not together!”

“Can’t you keep it in your pants?” Levi had thrown at Eren, to which he had responded cleverly with a-

“Could’ve said the same for you!”

Touché…

“See? That can’t be Levi! Look at how he’s smiling!”

“That can’t be a baby! Looks like an animatronic to me!”

“Do they even make animatronics that realistic?”

Reiner pins his “no slander�� rule- one day they’ll get it. Or at least he would’ve gotten rid of all the people that don’t.

“Who’s this bigdaddyzoë anyway?”

“Maybe she isn’t real? Company probably invented her…”

“Heard she’s a crazy groupie who got knocked up…”

“Heard she’s hot…”

… several people are typing

—

“So… I heard from Reiner you were defending my honour in the server?” Hanji quirks an eyebrow.

Levi shrugs. Whatever goes down in the server stays between Leviackerman173810 (leviackerman and all 173809 permutations of said username had already been taken) and the hundreds of people who haven’t quite figured out he’s the real deal. Besides, Erwin has issued him three warnings so it’s best to lay low for now.

“My hero…” Hanji chuckles, pressing a kiss on Levi’s head. Below them, baby Udo wriggles and yawns against the fabric of Levi’s shirt. Cute.

So Levi Ackerman is your baby daddy. Now what? You look at your son and know he’s going to break hearts like his father of course. And if you’re Levi, you pray to god he never asks about babygate because Hanji has read up enough about it to be considered a connoisseur.

One day the internet will break when they find out the identity of bigdaddyzöe. But for now baby Udo has his parents wrapped around his tiny fingers and he doesn’t quite understand the concept of him being the spawn of every typical band member x y/n fanfiction. Or the centre of a very popular, very absurd, yet strangely believable internet conspiracy theory. Or the canon plot that has sunk one of the biggest No Name ships. And that’s okay.

#babygate was a 1D conspiracy theory #levihan #whoopwhoop! #levi x hange #levi x Hanji #Drabble #inbox #anon #mine #again Pieck is me #un beta-Ed I’m sure it’s full of mistakes #shingeki no kyojin #Levi Ackerman #hange Zoë #celebrity au

[liberty-barnes]

Just Breathe

Tom Holland x Female!Osterfield!Bisexual!Reader

Summary: Childbirth waits for no one, not even the Oscars.

Warnings: fluuuuuff, pregnant reader, mentions of childbirth, good press articles, BISEXUAL READER WOOOHOOO

Word Count: 1.5k words

Estimated Reading Time: 6 minutes

A/N: heeeeey look @peterspideyy​ @parkersbliss​ that crazy idea i ranted to you about like six months ago finally got done! i can’t believe i did it... this feels too good to be true, is the world gonna end or something?

Masterlist 

"I don't think this is a good idea."

"Me neither."

"Please, just stay here."

You looked up to your brother and husband, frowning as you smoothed your hand over the soft black fabric of your gown.

"I am not missing the Oscars, Tom. I've still got two weeks until I'm due, it'll be fine."

You sat down on the bed and looked dejectedly at your shoes, then proceeded to throw puppy dog eyes your brother's way until Harrison had no choice but to kneel and help you put on your comfortable trainers. There's no way you're putting on your heels at 37 weeks of pregnancy.

"But what if Baby decides to come sooner? You could go into labour at any moment!"

You rolled your eyes and only raised your arms so they could help you out of bed.

"You guys are being over-dramatic. Nothing's gonna happen. We're just going to the Oscars, we'll have a good time, and hopefully, I'll leave with a little statue under my arm."

With that, you waddled out of your hotel room, ready to get into the limo.

---

"(Y/n)! It's so good to see you! You look radiant as always!"

You smiled at Kaitlyn, an interviewer you knew and trusted and rubbed your belly comfortingly. 

"Thank you, I feel like a whale, but Baby'll be here soon so it's worth it."

She smiled and asked you a bunch of questions about your movie and how you were feeling about being nominated for Best Actress.

"But anyway, how far along are you now?"

"I'm a little over 37 weeks, they should be coming soon. Tom and Haz were actually really apprehensive about me coming here since I'm so close to my due date."

She smiled and looked over at the two men, obviously on edge.

"Well, I wish you all the best and I sincerely hope you win."

You hugged her goodbye and posed for a few more pictures before being led inside by your husband.

---

"And now, for the moment you've all been waiting for..."

Everyone watched with bated breath as Brie Larson, last year's winner, got ready to announce who would take home the trophy.

"This year's winner, and taking home the Oscar for best actress in a leading role..."

Tom took your hand and you squeezed it tight, ready to applaud one of the other amazing actresses on their win.

"(Y/n) Holland, for her brilliant performance in Two Sides of the Same Coin!"

You felt like your heart was gonna beat out of your chest, run to that stage, kiss Brie, then promptly burst to flames out of sheer, unadulterated enthusiasm. Tom was hugging you and whispering how much you deserved it while your brother gently guided you to the podium. None of them would ever allow you to go up there on your own. Always one in front of you in case you trip forward and one behind you to catch you if you fall back.

Overprotective much?

As soon as you reached Brie, you hugged her tight (or as tight as you could with a human baby house separating you), taking the award while the two boys hugged her too.

"Holy Louis Tomlinson in a crop top."

The audience laughed, most of them already familiar with your strange One Direction inspired expressions.

"Wow, I didn't actually think I was gonna win this, everyone had such amazing performances. I-It's an honour, really. Two Sides of the Same Coin was a project very near and dear to my heart, so I'd like to thank the amazing Drew Barrymore, who wrote and directed the movie."

The room erupted in cheers and the woman smiled at you from her place on the front row.

"Bisexual representation is something we don't get very often, and when we do, it's always misjudged. So thank you for showing the world what bisexuality really is, and for giving me a chance to live out my dreams of kissing lots of people. This idiot tied me down too soon."

You pointed behind you at Tom, hearing his appalled squeak along with Harrison's guffaw of a laugh. 

In other news, the baby was starting to inconvenience you slightly. Baby had been going crazy since last night (not that you'd tell the boys) and the Braxton-Hicks were killing you, but it only got worse now.

"I'd also like to thank my amazing costars, Zendaya, Bella Thorne, and Owen Patrick Joyner, it was awesome to make out with you all..."

The crowd laughed while you felt something trickle down your legs.

Oh.

OH.

You'll never live this down, that's for sure.

"Uh, before I finish can one of you idiots call the car and get them to come to the exit please and thank you? Now as I was saying-"

"Wait, why?"

You turned to your brother and smiled innocently.

"Oh, my water just broke."

The crowd cheered.

Tom screamed.

Harrison fell to the floor, unconscious.

You sighed.

"New plan, can anyone try to wake my brother while my hus-" 

You looked at Tom, frantically doing small back and forths between you and his best friend, unsure of what to do. 

"-While someone else calls the car because both of them are apparently useless."

"We need to get you to the hospital!"

His terrified scream could be heard all through the room, even with no mic.

"What? No! I need to finish my acceptance speech, then go back to the hotel to shower and maybe take a little nap and then go to the hospital. My water just broke, Thomas, we have time, calm your tits."

You turned back fully to the mic, facing the hysteric faces of the crowd, very entertained by the exchange.

"Now as I was saying, I want to thank the amazing team that worked on this movie, you're all amazing and it was such a good experience. I'd also like to thank my family for always being there for me and supporting me and Haz in our acting careers. Thank you to my brother, even if he's unconscious right now, he'll just watch it on Youtube later, for literally forcing me to go to the audition. And lastly, I'd like to thank my wonderful husband, who hopefully hasn't passed out yet, for always supporting me and being my biggest rock through everything. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to deliver a baby, you know, just normal Saturday night stuff."

---

An Oscar in hand and another... down her legs?

(Y/n) Holland sure gave the Oscars something to be entertained by on this last Saturday. The wife of fellow actor Tom Holland looked radiant in her custom-made Valentino dress, looking ready for a night of fun.

(Y/n) was nominated for this year's Best Actress in a Leading Role award, alongside Meryl Streep, Margot Robbie, Cate Blanchett, and Tessa Thompson, but the Oscar went to her from her brilliant performance in Two Sides of the Same Coin. But it was during her acceptance speech that things got... slippery.

At 37 weeks of pregnancy, the Holland baby was ready to come at any minute, but apparently, theatrics run in the family. The actress was in the middle of her speech when she felt her water break, pausing in her talking to request a car be called.

You'd think her husband, Tom, and brother Harrison Osterfield, overprotective as they are, would be fully prepared! Unfortunately for them, and fortunately for our entertainment, they were not. Harrison went unconscious after hearing the news, dropping to the floor and earning himself a minor concussion, much to his sister's amusement

[image1-harrison-ice-pack.png]

@ynholland: "Don't worry, when you go into labour, I'll be with you every step of the way." Said Harrison Osterfield, then proceeded to pass out, get a minor concussion, and miss the whole delivery.😂 Good job, little bro👍

And just when you thought she couldn't get any better, she finishes her acceptance speech with: "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to deliver a baby, you know, just normal Saturday night stuff." We have no choice but to stan this iconic queen!

But for the news you've all been waiting for, Oscar Robert Holland (yes, the middle name is a homage to Robert Downey Jr. himself, we're not crying, you are!) was born just twelve hours later. Tom let know through a beautiful Instagram picture that he is in fact "perfectly healthy and loved by everyone already".

[image2-tom-and-oscar.png]

@tomholland2013: I present to you, my best creation to this date: Oscar Robert Holland. Thank you all for your prayers and kind messages, our boy is perfectly healthy and loved by everyone already❤️

But of course, Uncle Haz wouldn't stay behind.

[image3-haz-and-oscar.png]

@hazosterfield: Since I know you've all been worried sick and desperate to know how the baby is... I'm doing just fine, it's just a minor concussion :) Oh and my godson's great too.

And just to prove that the Osterfields are indeed the royal family of comedy, we leave with this wonderful picture posted to the happy mum's very own Instagram.

[image4-yn-and-oscars.png]

@ynholland: Guess I was so good they gave two Oscars instead of one ;)

-Written by Kaitlyn Storm

so anyway, Two Sides of the Same Coin is a movie idea i got a while ago and should maybe try to write one of these days but oh well or something. anyway, i’m not gonna rant about it here cause it’d be too long but i hope you enjoyed this and don’t forget to like/comment/reblog if you feel like it!

-Love, Miah

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────» 

Taglists: (if your name is striked through it means for some reason tumblr wouldn’t let me tag you) 

PERMA TAG 

@adriannajackson123​ @theamazingtomholland​ @inlovewithmobtom​ @andycanbeemotional​ @officiallyunofficialperson​ @lost-in-the-stars03​ @jeezkiddo​ @a-singleboat​ @wunder-13 @highlydisfunctional1​ @ellyseveronica​ @inthecornerchair​ @harishaanne​ @anjalika03​ @lozzypoz321​ @mendes-marvel​ @sovereignparker​ @bubbles-the-powerpuffgurl 

 MARVEL ACTORS 

@sarcasticallywitty15​ @agentnataliahofferson​ @onelovesr​ @agentnataliahofferson​ @parkerpetertingle​ @juliebean247​ @frustratingpaperclip​ @tacobacoyeet​ 

HOLLAND & CO. 

@sarcasticallywitty15​ @agentnataliahofferson​ @onelovesr​ @agentnataliahofferson​ @zeusmyster​ @parkerpetertingle​ @juliebean247​ @joyleenl​ @quaksonhehe​ @clara-licht​ @frustratingpaperclip​  @tutuabby28​ @tacobacoyeet​ 

LGBTQ+ 

@quaksonhehe​ 

#libby writes #libbys stuff #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland imagine #osterfield!reader #harrison osterfield #actress!reader #bisexual!reader #oscars #academy awards #mcu #avengers #spider-man #spiderman x reader #MCU Spiderman #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #fluff #pregnant!reader #husband!tom

[hornedsimp]

henlo- Milk here (no idea how to ask from that account but-!) Do you think i could request some exile arc wilbur smut-? The reader being Schlatt's first lady to give it some good ol dramatic tension.

Milk hi, so nice seeing you around these parts, and of course you can request some Wilbur exile smut! Though, I'm not sure it was very dramatic like you wanted, I hope you like it friend!

°•♡--------------------------------------------♡•°

"On Enemy lines"

Wilbur x F!Reader (Smut)

°•♡--------------------------------------------♡•°

Warnings : NSFW, Shameless smut, Curse words, Oral sex (female recieving)

Please forgive any bad grammar!

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You and Wilbur had a good friendship, at least that's how you would explain your current relationship with the exiled man.

You didn't get to participate in the first war of the country, since you weren't living there yet, but you moved in close to La'manberg a little after the independence of the new country.

You wouldn't define Willbur as your best friend exactly, sure he was a cute guy, but you weren't interested in dating at the moment, he also hasn't shown interest in a relationship, so you both just followed at being friends.

When the election was announced, you quickly went to look for Schlatt, you knew he would pull something to win the election, especially since he was so obsessed with revenge, and you needed to guarantee your safety in the country.

Joining Schlatt would soon prove to be both your smartest and dumbest idea ever made.

Soon after exiling Willbur and Tommy, Schlatt announced your position as his first lady, soon following with Tubbo being his right-hand man.

Being on Schlatt's side was tiresome to say at least, you were safe in the country yes, no one dared mess with you since you got the job, but the president spent his days on his room with Quackity, drinking all day and night, throwing all of his responsibility on you and Tubbo.

It was no surprise that Tubbo ran away to his friends as soon as the shit show started, all of them, including you, knew Tubbo was making too many visits outside the country, which could only mean that he was visiting Willbur and Tommy.

Schlatt started to get pissed at that, somehow you understood his anger, because of that you stayed on your job, holding on to your position like your life depended on it, running everywhere the ram hybrid told you to.

Ironically, the very first time Schlatt ordered you to go outside the country, it was to find Willbur and Tommy, the president didn't like the fact that he would possibly very soon be betrayed, since he couldn't send Tubbo, he decided to send you instead, ordering that you found them to know how much damage they could cause.

It wasn't exactly hard to find them, not when you walked around the choir for some minutes only to hear Tommy's exaggerated laugh, soon followed by Wilbur's shouting out for him to shut up.

Following the sound, you soon arrived at what seemed to be a normal cave, the only sign that it wasn't an abandoned cave was the many torches around the place, slowly making your way down you ended up face to face with Wilbur.

" Y/N? what- what are you- I mean what a nice surprise! " He forced a smile clapping his hands loudly

You took notice of his clothes, not the old uniform from the war, but now a brown trenchcoat, it seemed like there was a lot of gunpowder in his slightly grey shirt, which you supposed once was white.

His words attracted the attention of other people on you, soon enough you could see Tommy and Tubbo rushing to his side, Tommy staying in front of tubbo holding a sword pointed at you.

Snatching Wilbur's beanie and putting it on yourself you offered them a smile, your hands moving to the side so you could move your coat out of the way, giving them a clear view of your netherite sword attached to your belt.

" I'm not here to cause any trouble, it's good to see you, boys. "

" Y/N! My woman friend! it's just a joke, we would never try to attack you, it's so good to see you! " Tommy was the first to speak, lowering his sword and forcing a laugh.

You hummed running your fingers through your hair before making a small gesture with your hands so the boys could move out of the way, on doing so you walked slowly down the stairs, giving a sharp nod to tubbo before you kept walking through their base.

Wilbur was following you closely, humming as you scanned the walls of the ravine.

" It's pretty nice of you to come to visit us you know, I didn't think someone as important as the first lady would come to walk beside the commoners. " Wilbur sneaked an arm around you, pulling you close as he guided you through the cave.

" Schatt wanted me to check and see if you guys are planning anything shady. " You hummed back relaxing your shoulders.

You expected many insults to be thrown at you, yet there were none, instead, Wilbur laughed, letting go of your shoulder so he could wipe some tears away.

He moved a little further down the cave, his hand tracing the walls as he came to stop, turning his head so he could wink at you before pushing a hidden button at the wall, soon enough the wall started to move, only to reveal a small room.

There were some buttons across the walls, a weird decorative choice in your opinion, but you didn't comment on it, instead, you walked in the supposedly secret room scanning the belongings, two beds, some chests on the ground, not too much to look at.

" You're very blunt aren't you? well, that doesn't matter, come, make yourself at home, don't worry about Tommy, he's going to be leaving soon anyway. " Wilbur moved through the room quietly, gesturing to the bed.

You sit on the bed, moving a little further so Wilbur could join you, with a sigh you took off the beanie, tracing the fabric with your fingers.

" Schlatt is going to be throwing a festival soon in the country." You said, very interested in looking at the brown fabric between your fingers instead of looking at Wilbur.

Instead of giving you a proper answer though, he only hummed in acknowledgment.

" He knows Tubbo is coming to visit you guys. "

Again, you only received a hum in response.

Finally getting the courage to look up, you found yourself staring at Wilbur's face, he was laying back on the wall, his legs spread against the bed, he was looking at the wall seemingly lost in thought.

" You're not going to yell at me for staying with Schlatt? " it's what you wanted to ask, instead you found yourself saying something different.

" Did you miss me pretty boy? "

That got his attention, he turned to look at you, and for the first time, you got a glimpse at how different he actually was, his eyes once filled with hope and eagerness seemed empty as he stared at you, a small smile escaping his lips.

" Yeah, I missed you, I miss the time we spent together hunting outside the walls, or the nights we spent talking about the starts, do you remember that? " He asked, moving his hand up like he could summon those memories in front of you.

You almost felt like he could.

"Yeah, I miss hanging out with you stinky. " You both laughed at the nickname

"What? no fair, you called me pretty boy first! "

"Well I'm revoking the nickname, you're stinky now! stinky boy!"

Wilbur's eyes lighted up at that, you caught a glimpse of a devious smirk appearing on his face before he threw himself at you, his gloved hand holding your arms away from your body.

" Who were you calling stinky again Miss First Lady? "

"No! You're going to get my clothes dirty! Get off Wilbur!" You tried to move away from him with no avail.

" Ah so now it's not stinky anymore? " He laughed some more before dropping hus weight on you

Wilbur finally let go of your hand, but there was no way he was going to let you out of the bed so soon.

He moved around a little so he could hide his face on the side of your neck, starting to hum once again.

" You seem pretty comfortable " You noted.

" We are friends Y/N, why wouldn't I be comfortable laying on top of you? " He asked moving his arms to wrap themselves around your waist.

" You're not mad I stayed with Schlatt? " You asked instead of answering his question.

" That depends, will you be mad if I kiss you? " He asked moving his head so he could look in your eyes.

" I don't think so Stinky. " You replied guiding your hand to his head, messing with the brown strands of his hair.

You could feel his body relaxing at your touch as he moved a little to be right above your face, pressing his lips into yours softly.

He moaned in the kiss as you pulled on his hair, you took that as your clue to deepen the kiss.

When he pulled his body up to to get away for a moment, you got the perfect oportunity to closely watch his flustered face.

Before he could say anything, you pulled on his coat bringing him closer again so you could leave a softer kiss on his lips.

Wilbur's eyes softened at your action, and soon enough he was mirroring your actions, leaving soft kisses all over you face.

He moved to your jawline, then down you neck, his hands messing with the end of your shirt, touching your waist ever so lightly that your whole body shivered under his cold hands.

Letting out a sigh your hands found their way up on his arms, slightly scratching his forearm.

Until he stopped with the soft kisses, and instead delivered a sharp bite down on the start of your shoulder.

You could feel the fabric of your shirt being pulled away, the fabric scratching your skin as Wilbur pulled at the top of your shirt trying to get more space on your skin.

As he kissed and marked more of your shoulder with hickeys and love bites, his hands were busy on your waist, his nails scratching your skin following a slow pattern, starting on your waist line and then moving down to your pelvis, and when you thought he would finally touch you, he would move his hands up to your belly, only to then move to your back.

" Wait. Wait hold on- Wilbur I need to take off my- " You tried to push him away to take at least your shoes and ciat off.

But the man stayed still, holding onto you like you were his support in the moment, you were still trying to take off some layers of clothes, until he pressed a kiss just a little bellow your ear, and you gripped on his arms like that was going to stop him.

He let out an "oh" followed by a soft chuckle, your hands stayed on his arms as you took a sharp inhale.

Wilbur pressed his body even more on you, he moved his head just slighty to run up the tip of hus nose on the sweet spot in your neck.

" Oh princess, this is the spot isn't it? The one that gets you all trembling in my hands? " He asked on a low voice, his hot breathing making you shiver once again

You opened your mouth to deny it, a simple mistake really, and he pressed another kiss on the same spot, this one harder as it soon envolved into him sucking on your skin to leave a deep shade of purple there.

One of his hands went down, finally touching your pussy, his thumb pressed on your clit as he got his middle finger in your entrance.

You moaned out his name finally giving up on trying to get him away from you.

Your eyes rolled back as he kept attacking your sweet spot, he only stopped when he moved his finger to enter you, his thumb running small circles in your clit as he moved up to look at you.

Your attention was locked in his eyes, filled with hunger and something else you couldn't decide.

" Princess you're so fucking wet, is that what I do to you darling? " He cooed at your expression.

" Cocky much? " You taunted back.

He smiled dangerously, his pupils blowed wide at the challenge and he stopped moving his fingers, only to receive your complaints in small whimpers.

Willbur pulled away from you quickly, throwing his coat somewhere on the floor and soon pulling your shoes and pants all the way down.

While free from his body, you took the opoortunuty to finally take off your shirt, and soon enough he was back on top of you.

Wilbur went back to kissing your neck, only this time he moved down to your chest, leading a trail of sloppy kisses to your core.

" Look at me love. Don't you dare look away " He ordered before grabbing on your lefs and spreading them apart.

You could feel your pulse on your neck, beating faster as you could only watch Willbur diving in between your legs.

His hands were holding your legs to make sure you weren't going to get away from him.

He ran his tongue through your folds receiving a sweet moan from you, and soon enough he was tasting like there was no tomorrow.

His lips closing around your clit to harshly suck on it while his hand worked on opening your entrance, would soon be replaced by his thumb harshly rubbing your nub as he plunged his tongue inside you.

With his harsh motions it didn't taje long for you to be reduced to a panting mess on his bed, you could feel the pressure building on your stomach.

And though you tried to warn him, the only thing coming out of your mouth were loud moans that echoed in his room.

When your legs started to tremble, Wilbur took that as a sign that you were close, so he moved again, bringing his lips back to your clit and his fingers to your entrance, quickly moving themselves inside you.

He thrusted the fingers as fast as he could inside you, pressing them against your warm walls, and finally stopping when you came on his hand.

Wilbur took his time moving away from you, proudly showing his fingers coated in your slick.

You gathered the strenght you had left to pull him to you, throwing him on the bed si you could be on top this time.

He hummed in appreciation when you pulled down his pants, making a quick work to mount his hips and get his dick inside you.

Wilbuf cursed out your name when in one move you got him all the way inside your self, he was quick to hold on your legs, pressing his fingers in your flesh as you started to move.

Your voices went over each other as both of you let out curses and moans.

" Fuck, fuck, you're being so nice to me Princess " Wilbur moaned as he moves his hips slightly to give some sharp thrusts into you.

Your hands were busy working on his chest, leaving many scratch marks as you bounced on his lap, feeling hody shivering at every movement.

Your body felt too hot, too full as you kept going, bending down to kiss him and have your turn on his neck.

And when you found his sweet spot, you couldn't help but give him a devious smile and repeat the same treatment he gave you.

Hearing his sweet and desperate moans were what threw you over the moan, as Wilbur called your name again and again.

Holding on his shoulders you body shook with a wave of pleasure, not long after that you felt Wilbur's cock painfully throbbing inside of you some times before he came inside you.

Both of you stayed on the same position, panting heavily as you tried to gather your posture back.

" so..." Wilbur started after a while. " Schlatt sent you huh? "

You smiled bending down one last time to kiss him "Don't worry, he just wanted to know if you guys are planning on blowing up the country or something like that "

Wilbur offered you a tired smile as his expression became sour "About that..."

#dream smp #c!wilbur #c!wilbur x reader #IGDSMP #imagine #dream mcyt

[mel-the-fangirl]

Toss A Coin to Your Witcher (Part Three)

Henry Cavill x Reader

Words: 4,365

(Part 1, Part 2)

Happy Holidays, Cavillry! I really truly hope that you all had some socially distanced fun! Here’s a little gift from me to everyone. I really hope everyone enjoys this last part to this miniseries as much as I enjoyed writing them!

Warning: I have never written anything even remotely close to smut and this story gets a teeny bit smutty so please be gentle with me.

Please like and reblog or leave some replies if you liked it!

Taglist: @novareign1, @libbymouse, @calwitch, @soldade, @happiness-in-the-dark, @seriouslygoodlookinggents, @wolvesandhoundshowltogether, @zealoushoundrancheclipse, @seanh-boredom, @speakerforthedead0, @rn7rocks, @writingforhenry, @weallhaveadestiny, @suueeeeeee

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“Because. We kissed."

Kissed.

Did you hear him right? Did he just say you kissed? You two kissed? And you didn't remember? 

Just the thought of it made you dissolve into fits of uncontrollable laughter.

A valiant effort on his part, truly. He really looked frustrated and confused that you didn't remember. What a brilliant actor.

"Phew!" you brushed the tears from the sides of your eyes and rubbed your nose with the back of your hand

"Right! As if I would ever forget kissing someone like you.” you gestured to him from head to toe, “Specimen.”

“Alright,” he crossed his muscular arms against his equally muscular chest, “I am one hundred and ten percent sure it was you and I’m not about to let you change my mind, madame.”

The challenge was clear in his voice and honestly? It was really hot, his whole stern and smug vibe actually made you forget that you were trying to defend your honour. 

How could he just look like that? All tall and handsome and muscular? It threw you off your game. He looked like he was God's favourite. 

"Aren’t we going to dinner?" you asked, now openly staring at his eyes

"Oh, god. Of course, you must be starving. I apologise." he dropped his proud stance and immediately grabbed your coat from the rack

Henry graciously helped you put it on, his arms lingered around you just a tad bit longer than needed but it was all very good.

Something must have caught his eye as he stepped away from you. He gave you a small smile and made a move to lean in. 

Oh, was this happening now?

Okay, sure. What the hell right? Since he claims to have already kissed you before maybe he needed to be reminded. 

You could do that. You knew how to kiss, you’ve kissed people before.

As he leaned in, the smell of his cologne invaded your senses. It was musky but also floral. Combined with his naturally clean, fresh scent, you could just picture yourself on a leisurely stroll with him in a field somewhere, the pristine air carrying the scent of earthy wood and spring flowers all around you. Henry would be gazing at you adoringly and he’d be in a soaked white shirt even though it was a sunny day.

Armed with that picture in your mind, nothing could go wrong. You were definitely feeling it.

You tilted your chin upwards, leaning in to meet him halfway, more than ready to feel those luscious lips on yours. You shut your eyes, just to make it more romantic.

His arms wrapped around you and you went in for the kill.

That’s when the worst possible thing happened. Well, perhaps not the worst thing but this was pretty fucking close.

Instead of the soft lips you were expecting, your lips met the soft material of his sweater.

Yes, that’s right. His sweater.

You, Y/N Y/LN, had just planted a big ol’ smooch on Henry Cavill’s sweater.

Your eyes snapped open and you wondered what you did so wrong in your past life to deserve this. How could you have misjudged the situation so wrongly?

The second Henry felt the tiny amount of pressure on his shoulder, he knew he fucked up. He had no idea why he didn’t just tell you that the collar of your coat was sticking up, why did he feel the need to straighten it himself? Now, what was he going to do? He didn’t want to embarrass you.

But, it was a little too late for that now, wasn’t it?

You both stepped away at the same time, seeming to look at anything else in the room but each other. It was nice of him to also feel embarrassed on your behalf but, you felt like everyone the world over was cringing out of their skin from secondhand embarrassment.

“So, dinner?” Henry offered you his strong arm, grinning at you like nothing happened

Was it possible for him to be even more perfect? As you looped your arm through his, you found out that it was.

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

The expansive cityscape was laid out before you from the secluded trellis covered terrace of the restaurant he chose. The view was beautiful, the lights of the city sprinkled across buildings, homes, and streets, the inky black and blue sky stretching far beyond.

Gazing out at it should have made you feel calm, at peace. But you were a bundle of nerves. Never in your wildest dreams did you ever think that you’d be on a date with Henry Cavill and you wouldn’t have imagined that he would be accusing you of forgetting that you shared a kiss.

“Look,” you rested your arms on the table, looking at him as seriously as you could without getting lost in his eyes, “I swear, if we really did kiss, I would remember.”

Henry studied you quietly amidst the hustle and bustle of the restaurant beyond the French doors. It was endearing to him, how quickly you would sometimes switch from confident assertiveness to awkward fumbling.

For you, it was a test of endurance to look past the god-given good looks and focus on trying to anticipate what his next move was.

Turns out, it was one in your favour.

“You know what? I think you’re right.”

You almost did a spit take with your wine. Thank God you weren’t wearing anything white.

Okay, act cool. That should be easy, right? You were an actor after all. Just be cool. Relax your shoulders, unclench your jaw, stop sweating.

"I must've been mistaken. I truly apologise." 

He looked so sheepish, you actually reached over to put your hand on his. You tilted your head and gave him an understanding smile. A wave of relief washed over your body and to Henry, it showed. Your rigid posture finally loosened and you even managed to lace your fingers through his.

"I totally get it. I mean, with our jobs? We meet dozens of people everyday, it's not hard to be confused."

His heart leapt into his throat at the contact, it felt like his entire arm was covered in live wires but he would endure it just to savour your hand in his.

"Let's focus on our date, yeah?" 

"Yes, absolutely," you nodded enthusiastically, "Please. Tell me all about you."

"Oh, but I'd rather hear about you."

You were flattered, really. But just in case this was never going to happen again, you needed to get him talking and sponge up as much information as you could.

"And you will, but let’s hear about you first.”

He wanted to argue but you were already looking at him expectantly and despite your short time together, he was already struggling to say no to you.

So, he talked, and talked, and talked, much more than he’s ever dared to talk in his whole life. And you listened, absolutely captivated by his eloquence, his intelligence, his passion, and his wit. Not to mention his voice, deep and silky and hypnotising. Why people thought he lacked personality was a mystery to you.

“I do love theatre,” he explained with a mouthful pasta. It was adorable, no questions asked. “I wish I had that courage and longevity to just deliver every single night for months on end.”

“I actually started out in theatre.” you nodded your head as he widened his eyes at you questioningly. “Yup. I did a decent run of The Tempest at the Yard a year back.”

That’s when the ball dropped. Time seemed to stop for Henry, his drink hovered in the air just as he was about to raise it to his lips. It had finally made itself known, his smoking gun. He faltered only for a second before masking his triumphant smirk with his wine glass.

One harmless little question out of his mouth had you turning as red as the cherry tomatoes artfully scattered in the salad that was set before you.

“Ah, yes. Didn’t you play Miranda?”

You stopped stirring your iced tea and furrowed a brow at him.

“Yes. Yes, I was. Did you catch a show?”

“I did. I was at the opening night after party as well.” he enunciated this part slowly and clearly, hoping that your eyes would spark with recognition

But they didn’t.

“Isn’t that a shame. We could have done this earlier if we crossed paths that night.”

Henry pursed his lips and nodded, mildly disheartened but nonetheless, he pressed on.

“I do recall meeting you though.”

This again? 

You huffed and set your utensils on your plate. You laced your fingers together and looked him in his gorgeous ocean coloured eyes.

“Okay. If that is the night in question then I will admit that I… may have kissed someone but it wasn’t you.” 

“Well, well, well…” he raised an eyebrow at you and you instantly coloured

It wasn’t one of your finest moments and you figured you would never have to dig that memory out of the vault but here it was.

“I know how this sounds,” you shook your head disapprovingly at him, “But it’s not. Okay. On God, it wasn’t you.”

Henry nodded yet again, narrowing his eyes at you. The silent treatment and judgy look he had on forced you to keep talking, which probably wasn’t the best idea.

“It wasn’t you, Henry. Okay? It was just some random dude in a nice sweater and a signet ring or something.”

Alarm bells started clanging in your head as your eyes swept over your dinner date. Nice sweater, check. A signet ring resting on his pinky, check.

“It wasn’t you.” you repeated in more of a whisper, more to convince yourself than anything else

Throughout your debate, bits and pieces of that night started to come back to you. The most embarrassing part came to mind first, it would probably be your saving grace but, did you really want to tell Henry Cavill what you thought you did?

“Am I really that bad a kisser? That you felt the need to completely erase it from your memory?”

His tone was joking but you could see in his eyes that he was a little bit hurt. It was going to be a cold day in hell if you were going to be the person to make Henry Cavill doubt his skills in the kissing area.

“I kissed a male prostitute that night, okay!” you yelled out in exasperation

Thank God your table was situated on the terrace or else a restaurant full of people would have been in on your little secret. As your voice echoed off the walls, you wrapped your arms tightly around yourself. How much embarrassment were you going to endure?

“A male prostitute?” Henry repeated slowly, clearly having a difficult time processing this new information

“Yes.” you groaned, leaning back in your seat and covering your face with your hands

---One year before---

The curtains closed to thunderous applause, whistles and standing ovations. Your heart pounded in your chest as you struggled to keep your breathing steady.

Did that really just happen?

You looked around at your castmates and wrangled them into a group hug.

“Did I really just do that?” you asked Marge upon meeting her backstage

“Yes, you did! Now go on and get changed. It’s after party time.”

With that, she sent you off with a smack on your ass.

You’d only known Marge for a few months since you arrived in London but you liked her already. It’s not like you had a choice though, really, she was the only one you knew.

“How about that one, that one over there?” Marge slurred, shoulders knocking into yours, less than discreetly pointing out some guy in the crowd of party goers

“Shh! Marge!” you giggled, more than a little tipsy yourself

Opening night was a smashing success, it was your first ever gig anywhere, really. You were so nervous the entire time, you thought you were doomed to fuck up and forget your lines or something but that moment never came.

“HEY! REVIEWS ARE OUT!” someone yelled in the crowd

“Here we go.” you murmured, knocking back your drink and tugging Marge along

The huge crowd gathered around your director, who was standing on a stool. It was a tight squeeze since a good chunk of the people who came were already hammered. Someone from behind shoved you forward and you rather inelegantly fell into the arms of the man next to you.

“Whoa there.” you could just make out the deep velvety voice above the murmurings of the crowd

“Oh, God, I am so sorry, I-” you trailed off when you finally laid eyes on your rescuer

Oh, wow.

You couldn’t decide which feature to focus on first. The captivating eyes that were a shade of blue that your alcohol-soaked brain couldn’t even comprehend, the strong chiseled jawline you needed a protractor to measure, or the perfect stray curls that fell onto his forehead?

Decisions, decisions.

“Are you alright? You almost fell.”

Goosebumps broke out on your arms as he helped you stand upright.

God, he was handsome, an observation you thought you had kept to yourself.

The tall man chuckled, still holding on to your forearms, “Thanks very much. I’m He-”

“And Y/N, my incomparable Miranda!” a booming voice interrupted him from the front of the room

“Fuck, that’s me.”

You broke from his grasp and fought your way through the crowds, leaving your hero looking out after you.

“Newcomer Y/N Y/L/N’s performance as Miranda is the glittering centrepiece to this refreshing, masterful take on an enduring classic,” the director read aloud, allowing the crowd to raise their glasses to you

You smiled at everyone, inadvertently meeting the eye of your tall handsome man.

When the crowd dispersed, you and Marge found yourselves back at the open bar, eyeing up every guy that passed by.

“Y/N, you’re on the fast track now. You killed tonight, now it’s time to pick your prize! How about that one? In the corner? Looks tall, shaggy hair…”

“Marge, that’s a ficus.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, that other ficus has been looking over since we set up camp here.” 

You followed the tilt of her head to the same guy from earlier, the achingly handsome one. He raised his glass to you and you waved sloppily back. It was the alcohol, okay? Open bar, what were you gonna do?

Marge whistled low, sizing him up from head to toe, “Y/N, that’s a male prostitute if I’ve ever seen one and I have seen a lot of ones.”

The fry you had chomped down barely made it halfway down your throat before coming back up again, “What? No! Marge, he’s not.”

“But he is. Y/N, that man is tall, hung, and handsome. There is no man that tall, hung, and handsome that isn’t either an actor or a male prostitute.”

“Tall, hung, and handsome.” you mumbled, raking your eyes over him as discreetly as you could

In your inebriated state, you completely forgot to ask Marge why he couldn’t have been an actor. Why did her mind immediately head for the strip club? And why did yours follow suit?

“Imma go and bag myself a stripper, Marge. Okay?”

“Yes! Use protection!”

Before strutting off or more like stumbling off, you downed some more booze which probably was not as good of an idea than you thought. Not even halfway to him, you decided that you were teetering in your heels a little bit too much, so you took them off.

“Oh. Hey there.” the same silky smooth voice from earlier greeted you

“Ah, fuck. You’re tall.”

Looking up at him made you dizzy, like standing at the top of a giant skyscraper and looking down at the very edge.

He chuckled and you watched entranced as his face just lit up like Christmas. You decided then and there that you would like to kiss the Christmas, very much so indeed.

The liquid courage in you was really doing its job. You took his hand and dragged him away from the party. This was fine, wasn’t it? It’s not like he was complaining, he looked rather amused actually. Things like this probably happen to him a lot in his line of work.

“Well, now you have me, what are you going to do with me?” he asked teasingly once you two were tucked away in a dark corner

The combined effects of the excessive alcohol, the high of your first successful job, and the way this sinfully handsome man was looking at you made your next move the easiest thing in the world.

You balled the front of his sweater in your fist and tugged him down towards you. He was too tall.

Who on earth was this ballsy, clumsy, beautiful, talented stranger?

Henry didn’t get the chance to ask before his lips came crashing down and immediately, wildfire. 

A shockwave of frenzy ran through his body, he needed to feel you. He was all hands and lips and ragged breaths. His lips traveled down the smooth path of your throat, nipping and sucking as he went. You were putty in his hands.

“Jump.” he growled

You did as he asked and he latched his hands underneath your thighs and planted you against the wall. His lower half pressed into yours and you knew that Marge was right. Your hands raked through his hair and you reveled in the feel of him, strong, confident, in charge. His large hands made their way to your bottom and he squeezed gently.

A breathy moan escaped your lips and you knew you needed to have more of this man. Your fumbling hands made their way to his belt buckle but he set you down on your feet and held you steady.

“What..?” you whispered, suddenly disoriented

“I really should take you on a date first.” he panted

Sober, you definitely would have taken him up on his offer, male prostitute or not, but you were far from it and your head was still spinning so you thought you’d shut your eyes for a while and have him catch your unconscious form.

With you over his shoulder and your shoes in one hand, Henry made his way to his car and drove you safely home, relying on the satnav and your slurred directions.

He laid you gently in bed, brushing the hair away from your face. You snored in your drunken sleep and Henry smiled at the sound.

This was an encounter he was sure he would remember for a long time.

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

“Well, that was me,” Henry nodded his head with his bottom lip jutted out. “Exactly as you remembered it.”

Tall, hung, and handsome, huh? That wasn’t anything new to him. He’s been described using far more… graphic detail, if his time searching his name on Tumblr was anything to go by. But hearing it come from your mouth turned him several shades of red.

You, on the other hand, had no words. Again. But you figured that it was all Marge’s fault.

“So, I suppose I was right?” he confirmed, unable to contain the self-satisfied smirk on his face

“Uh, yeah,” you sighed, absolutely exhausted from your little trip down memory lane. “Yeah, I guess you were right.”

Slowly, you met each other’s eyes. A moment passed before you both dissolved into fits of laughter.

“Do I look like a male prostitute? Did I exude that kind of energy at the time?” Henry guffawed, shoulders shaking

“God, I don’t even know how I thought that! I was super drunk, okay?” you covered your face with your hands, mortified and extremely amused at yourself

The laughter died down and you were left gazing at each other fondly. Dessert had long since been over and the night went on, the candlelights on your table and scattered around the quiet terrace intensified the feeling that was passing between you.

“Y/N?” 

“Yes?”

You didn’t miss the way his eyes darkened and settled on your lips. Unlike all the other times today, you didn’t feel nervous, you didn’t feel like you were about to make a fool of yourself, you felt completely calm.

“Would it be alright with you if we picked up where we left off that night?”

Ever the gentleman. You smiled and made your way over to him.

“Hi.” you made yourself comfortable on his lap and you laced your arms around his neck

“Hello, there.” he whispered against your lips

It was probably not the best place to do this, in a restaurant where upwards of twenty people were just beyond the terrace doors but you were in your own little world.

You were endlessly thankful that you were sober for this, you would never forgive yourself otherwise.

When his lips finally met yours, you wondered how on earth you ever forgot such a feeling. It was gentle and soft, as most of these things start, his thumbs caressed that apple of your cheeks then he laid a chaste kiss on each.

You breathed long and hard as his hands splayed on your back, pushing you closer to him. His warm tongue traced the outline of your bottom lip before exploring your mouth, the taste of you mixed with the subtle taste of wine was exquisite and he wanted more. He drank you in, holding you flush against him.

“Wait.” you took his hand and led him to the far side of the terrace to an alcove enveloped in a curtain of lush vines

“When did you spot this?” Henry asked, breathless as you sat him down and straddled him once again

“On the way in.” you had the audacity to blush

“You had plans for me already?”

“A girl always comes prepared.”

Nothing would ever prepare you for the sight of his full length, once his trousers were lowered, it was over for you. Henry took control by shoving your underwear to the side and impaling you onto him. You inhaled sharply, screwing your eyes tightly shut.

“Are you okay?” he struggled to control himself, having you quivering on top of him was severely testing his restraint

“Yes. Please. Move.” all you could manage were monosyllabic answers

And move he did. It should be illegal to be this good.

The night air was cool but you were both slick with sweat, you two had lost your tops a while ago and Henry’s tongue swept across the valley of your breasts and marked his territory everywhere he could. His thrusts were enough to bruise you but you never wanted anything more than to feel him.

“Henry,” you gasped out as he continued to hit that spot that made you see stars

He could sense that you were close, you were tightening around him and gripping him like a vise. 

“Let go, lovely.” he whispered in your ear, committing the way your face twisted into a mask of pleasure and desperation to memory

You rode him furiously, the sound of your flesh colliding over and over again mingled with your hoarse moans, you were certain that someone would hear you but at that moment all you cared about was reaching your peak and with Henry Cavill at the helm?

His large hand clamped around your mouth as you came, you writhed and arched your body uncontrollably as his thrusts became more erratic. He pulled out of you and began to finish himself off, he did not expect for your hand to join his and he did not expect to come so quickly once it did.

“Jesus.” he panted, reaching over to smooth your hair out of your face

You shivered, suddenly very aware that you weren't wearing anything at all. Henry helped you dress quickly and wrapped his own coat around you, rubbing some heat into your arms.

When you refused to look him in the eye the entire ride back to your flat, that’s when Henry started getting nervous.

It’s not like he could ask you if you enjoyed it? I mean, he could but that would make him look like an amateur and he would really like to think that he was no amateur in that area. So instead, he took your hand as you stood in front of your door. 

“Y/N, I would love to do this again. The date, not the sex- I mean, I would like to have sex with you again but that's not what I'm after-Holy shit."

Oh, how the tables have turned. 

Henry rubbed at his face with a hand and sighed, "Do you think you'd like to see me again?" 

"Do you think you'd like to stay the night?" 

Both of you asked your questions at the same time and you both looked taken aback at them.

"What makes you think I don't want to see you again?" you wrapped your arms around his torso and looked up at him

"You were silent the whole car ride?"

He looked so unsure and a little afraid that you couldn't help but squeeze him. How could someone be both heartbreakingly handsome and adorable all at the same time? 

"I was just summoning up the courage to ask you to stay the night!"

"Oh thank God."

He swept you off your feet and threw your door open but, you didn’t end up in bed (you’d get there later), you ended up in the same place you started, on the couch, with him spectating and occasionally helping out as you played Witcher 3.

The next morning, you woke up to a text message and a forwarded article from Marge,

“HOW BEING A STAN GOT Y/N Y/L/N HER MAN”

YOU TWO ARE EVERYWHERE. CHECK IT OUT!  I TAKE CASH, CHEQUES, AND LAVISH GIFTS. YOU’RE WELCOME.

A muscular arm gently wrapped around your bare waist and a tender kiss was pressed onto your shoulder. You looked back at your handsome bedfellow and smiled.

You’d take a look at it later. Right now, you had better things to do.

#henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill fic #Henry William Dalgliesh Cavill #geralt of rivia #the witcher #the man from uncle

[urimaginespimp]

Three Months Apart

Tommy x Reader

angst + maybe a happy ending?

--------

Today was the day you were going to ask him.

You’ve been with Thomas for over six years. The countless parties and weddings you’ve attended together become more and more intolerable. All because every time you went to them, the more you wanted to have your own.  

It didn’t help that your family was pressuring you to it, no matter how against they were of your relationship. Your father often told you, that If you were going to associate yourself with such a dangerous family, might as well make sure you’re officially entitled to their protection.

You gave him the signs, hell even Polly and John started dropping their own hints at him to help you after they figured out what you’ve been trying to do. But as much as Thomas was one of the most intelligent people you know, he seemed to be oblivious about it.

Pacing back and forth outside his office, you were close to backing out when the door opened, revealing Thomas.

“Is there a reason why you’ve been pacing back and forth out here for the last three minutes?” your boyfriend asks you with a smile.

“I uh… wanted to talk.” You answered quietly, walking inside.

Thomas was confused with the nervousness of you voice. Closing the door, he turned to see you already on the seat in front of his desk, fidgeting with your fingers.

“Is there something wrong, Y/N?” He asked you.

“A friend of mine from London is getting married next month.” You don’t know how, but that lie just rolled off your tongue.

“Y/N, you know you don’t have to be nervous about asking me to be your date, right? We’ve gone through occasions like these about a hundred times.” He chuckled.

“Right. We’ve been through a lot of weddings.” You nodded, smiling. “But I never got the chance to ask you the very same thing I often ask my other unmarried friends.”

“Well shoot, darling.” He walked towards you and took the seat opposite yours.

“Do you think they’re making the right decision?" you finally asked him, feeling a rush out of your system. You didn’t even realize how tense this has been making you.

“Frankly, if it’s no benefit for a company, like let’s say an official alliance, then it’s a waste of time and money.” He answered nonchalant, taking a cigarette out of his pocket.

No matter how appalled you were at his response, you tried not to show it.

“Not even if they do love each other?” You felt your throat tighten up.

Thomas sighed. “If they really do love each other, they wouldn’t need to have such a unecessary event to shove it to other people’s face.”

“Good God, Thomas.” You whispered.

“Tom, it’s more than just telling the world how much you love each other. It’s also sealing devotion to each other. Giving them the gift of the right t-to let’s say, visit you in a hospital without having to wait for a real family member tell them that you are indeed the patient’s significant other. Or not having to deal with stupid people labeling you as their whore or temporary piece anymore.” You ranted to him, not being able to hold back in including your personal reasons.

“Is this what this is all about? You let those petty comments in your head even after years of being together?” He asked you, irritated. You stood up from your seat.

“I’m a woman, Thomas. And it’s quiet disappointing that at this time of age, being one still isn’t that significant. I quit my job for you. I left the comfort of my family’s home for you. Everyone I run into knows I’m with you. Now God forbid, but what would become of me if one of your dangerous antics would lead you to your demise? Who would hire a Shelby trash? And I might as well kill myself if I’d have to go back and hear my mother’s non-ending comments about me.”

“You know my family’s still going to take care of you.” He answered quietly, still wrapping his head around your sudden outburst.

“That’s not the point.” At this rate, you were gripping your dress to stop yourself from crying. Not until you ask him one more thing at least.

“Have you even thought about marrying me?” You blinked at him, hopefulness laced your voice.

But for the first time in the years you’ve been with him, Thomas Shelby was out for words in an argument. Your question left his mouth parted, trying to give you an answer.

Your stomach dropped. The defeated look on your face almost pushed him to give you the lie you wanted to hear, but he couldn’t do that to you.

“I understand." You said looking down at your dress and running your hands through it as if an effort to smooth it out, when you were only trying not to show the tears that have finally spilled.

Taking a deep breath, you prepared yourself from the dreadful thing you were about to say next.

"I can’t do this anymore.” You barely said and willed your shaking self to walk out from him that day.

--------

That was three months ago.

You were in your father’s debt for helping you “disappear” off the radar for a little while. He sent you to live with a wealthy distant relative in the countryside, giving you time to pick yourself up and work on your personal happiness again.

It was safe to say that you were getting there, if it weren’t just for your own mind betraying you every once in a while, when you’d unexpectedly think or dream about him.

And of course, there were times where you almost regretted that day. You were already happy, right? But at the same time, it was better than spending more years before realizing he’d never marry you.

Thomas. You hadn’t heard directly from him ever since that day. Of course you gave a haste tearful goodbye to everybody, promising to write to them in the future. But it was a few letters from your sister that gave you a few updates.

She’d told you how he came to your family’s home a bunch of times on the first month, asking for your father’s favor to tell him where you were. On the second month he’d resort to calling every now and then, but on the third, there was nothing.

You guess he’d finally move on. And that was your cue to finally come home.

A few days back in your family’s home, one of your maids handed you an invitation to your name. It was dated a month back, but what caught your attention was that the seal was clearly already opened.

“It got delivered straight to the Shelbys first, miss.” She told you after seeing your confused expression.

Giving her a nod and a small smile, you opened it and saw that it was a formal invitation to a friend’s engagement party, set three nights from now.

“Should I send you sincerest regrets?” She asked you, and you stared back at her. “S-since you just got back from a trip.” She clarified awkwardly.

“No. Just go with me to find a dress tomorrow, please.”

--------

“I almost lost hope that you’d even come, Y/N” your friend hugged you as soon as she got you alone after introducing you to her betrothed.

“Don’t be daft. I’d never miss a chance to see my friends happy.” You smiled at her. “I never even knew you were dating someone.”

“Yeah, it’s for the family’s benefit. We like each other though, so it’s no problem.” She explained, chuckling. “So…” she continued. “Where have you been these past few months? I tried calling but all I got was that you’re out for a vacation.”

“I’m no longer with Thomas. Had to clear my head for a lil bit." You smiled awkwardly. Sooner or later you had to tell people anyway.

“Y/N I- I am so sorry for the invitation mishap. Had I known, I wouldn’t have sent it to his address or listed him as your plus one.” She squeezed your hand in remorse.

“It’s fine, really. You didn’t know.” You assured her.

She was smiling at you in gratitude, but something behind you caught her eye that made her gape in surprise. Curious, you turned your head and saw that it was no other than your ex-boyfriend heading your way.

“Do you want me to get someone to escort him out?” You friend asked in panic. Turning to face her, you took a deep breath to calm yourself.

“No, I’ll handle it. What I want you to do is enjoy your party, okay?” You smiled reassuringly. Giving your hand one last squeeze, she excused herself when Thomas was a few steps away.

Turning to face him, you were surprisingly feeling calmer than expected.

“Mr. Shelby.” You addressed him with a curt nod.

“Can I talk to you in private?” he cut to the chase. You bit your tongue back from making a remark about his lack of greeting, after seeing how his eyes were pleading despite his cold tone.

“Lead the way.” You found yourself saying.

On your way to wherever he was going, you caught your friend’s worried eye, and gave her a playful scolding look for not enjoying herself like you asked. Sure enough, he led you both in an unoccupied room that looked like someone’s study.

As soon as he closed the door behind him, you were taken aback when he suddenly charged at you and engulfed you in his arms. Thankfully, you were quick enough to steady yourself so that you both wouldn’t fall.

“Please don’t ever call me that ever again.” He whispered in your ear, shakily.

“W-wha-“

“Mr. Shelby. Please don’t ever call me like I'm just some associate. I hate it.” He cut you off. Your eyes watered at the tone of his voice. It sounded like he was as miserable as you’ve been these past few months.

Unable to give him any response, he slowly finally let go of you from his embrace and faced you. Looking at him, he was in one of his expensive suits, but that could only take away a little of your attention from his real state.

He had never looked as tired as he does right now, he looked like he lost a few pounds, his skin was paler than usual. You resisted the urge to touch his face.

“I’m sorry.” He finally spoke up.

“I’m fine now, Thomas.” You answered, though the lone tear that rolled down your cheek said otherwise.

“I’m not.” He answered frankly. “These past three months have been hell, Y/N. I kept going to your father, begging him to tell me where you were, until Poll told me that the more I persisted, the longer I wouldn’t see you.” He wiped the tear on your cheek with his thumb.

“H-how did you know I’ll be here?” you whispered, still trying to find you voice.

“I opened the invitation. But I risked going here just without guarantee you'd come.” He explained to you.

“I was in a distant aunt’s home. I just had to get away.” You didn’t know what else to say, so you told him where you’ve been. “It had a big garden, and I was treated really well there. They gave me everything I requested, I got to ri-”

“Marry me.” He told you in the middle of your babbling, catching you off-guard once more. “It was selfish of me to merely think of marriage the way I did, without even thinking about how it would mean for you.”

Recovering from the shock, you shook your head at him.

“No.” You replied sternly.

“No?” the hurt in his tone didn’t go unnoticed.

“I don’t want to force you into doing something you don’t believe in Thomas. I left not because I didn’t love you anymore. I did it because we want different things, and we both deserve to be with someone who would have the same mindset as we do. Because yes, I would’ve just accepted your answer and be content with our relationship. But I knew that along the way I’d start to resent you. I never want that to happen.”

“But that’s the thing, Y/N.” He held both of your arms. “When you left, I thought about everything you said and asked. You asked if I ever thought about marrying you. No, I haven’t, but I always thought about spending my life with you, having kids, owning a home together, and all that hosting events bullshit.” He chuckled. “And I realized that I can have that. But I also want to make it official first.” He added softly.

At this point, you couldn’t answer him anymore as tears prickled your eyes. Then he got down on one knee before your standing figure.

“Now please, Y/N. Will you take me out of my own misery and give me your hand in marriage?” He was already crying too. Who knew that the excruciating past three months would lead you both to here.

But just when you were about to give him your answer, the door suddenly opened, revealing your friend who had worry written all over her face. But it quickly turned into a shocked one when she saw that what Thomas was doing.

“I thought you were in trouble since you were taking too long.” She smiled sheepishly at both of you.

You smiled back at her. Then turned your attention back to Thomas.

“I guess we should invite her first, then.”

#Peaky Blinders #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders x reader #PEAKY FOOKIN BLINDERS #thomas shelby #thomasshelby #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby x reader #alfie solomons x reader #Alfie Solomons #John Shelby #john shelby imagine #john shelby x reader #Arthur Shelby #polly gray #polly grey #michael gray #michael grey #Michael Gray imagine #michael gray x reader #finn shelby #isiah de jesus #Ada Shelby