#where has my patron fangirling gone...

[absurdthirst]

Christmas For Hire {Dieter Bravo x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 22k

Warnings: Drug usage, strip clubs (we respect sex workers in this house), alcohol, lewd comments, oral sex (female receiving), protected sex, breeding kink (just talk), lactation kink (just talk), fantasy, Dieter being needy, angst, miscommunication

Comments: Alone and lonely for the holidays, Dieter finds himself in your place of work. Drunk and high, he offers you the deal of lifetime, $20k to pretend to be his girlfriend and give him a Christmas to remember. It might just be the best thing he's ever done.

A/N: Based off this GIF right here from Closer (2004)

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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

The Christmas lights and ornaments that the owners strung up along the stage and the VIP booths seem to clash with the darkness that seems to shroud most clubs. Allowing the light from the stage to be the focus, and give the patrons some sense of privacy as they watch the lewd displays of skin as dancers twirl on the poles and create dance routines around surprisingly peppy Christmas music. Serving tray filled, you adjust your Santa hat and wink at the burly bartender before you set off to deliver the drinks. 

Working as a cocktail waitress at a strip club was good money, you can’t deny that. Although some of the patrons never seem to understand that you aren’t a dancer. That no matter how many bills they stuff in your costumes, you will not grind on their laps or take them back into the Champagne Room. You just serve the champagne. “Double vodka with peach schnapps and soda.” You drop a drink off with a smile before moving on to deposit three beers and two tequila shots off to a group of military men who are watching Kandy before making your way back to the last booth in your section. The high roller booth. “Bottle of Dom and one glass.” You check the order even though you know it by heart. “And a Four Horsemen eggnog.” You give the man at the table a smile as you try not to fangirl over the fact that you are serving Dieter Bravo.

You walk off and Dieter can’t help but admire your ass. He smirks, glancing back at Kandy Kane dressed in a red and white outfit, her tits on display, but she’s not his type. Dieter crosses his arms, glancing around the room at the creepy men leering and he realizes he isn’t any better than them, spending the day before Christmas Eve loitering in a strip club. His family is gone; either dead or doesn’t speak to him. His friends only want him when he has drugs or money and he doesn’t want to indulge their bullshit so here he is, alone and watching titties while sipping a fucking eggnog. When you come back, he smiles in thanks. “Can you come sit with me?” He asks.

You see the glassy edge to his eyes, his pupils look like some kind of anime character, nearly blown out to where you can’t tell he has brown eyes. He’s high off his ass, something you have plenty of experience with in your job. Dancers or customers, all looking to forget for a while and even if you don’t do it yourself, you try not to judge. “Sure.” It would be nice to take a minute off your heels and take a small break. You had just made the rounds so you can spare a moment. You flop down into the booth and hum. “What brings you out tonight?” You ask, not mentioning you know who he is.

Dieter shrugs, “I haven’t got any Christmas plans so here I am. Looking at titties and drinking champagne.” He chuckles humorlessly. He knows his plans are pathetic but it’s all he has unless he decides to drink himself stupid through the holiday. “Sorry. You don’t want to listen to my shit.” He reaches for the money he has bundled up and hands you a hundred bucks. “Merry Christmas.”

You bite your lip before you fold the bill up and tuck it into your pocket. “Thank you.” Sliding towards the edge of the booth, you send him a searching look. “Can I get you some food? The burgers are horrible but the fries and hot wings are good.”

Dieter shakes his head, “no thanks. I am vegan right now….according to my agent.” Dieter winks and hands you another hundred dollars. “Get me some chicken wings, sweetheart. No one needs to know.” He picks up the glass of champagne, looking forward to some wings.

“Absolutely.” You grin and send him a conspiratorial wink of your own before you turn around to hurry towards the kitchen. You know that you shouldn’t flirt, it always turns out badly here, but it’s Dieter Bravo. The worst you think could happen is that he turns out to be an asshole and an asshole wouldn’t just give you a quarter of your rent in ten minutes.

Dieter watches you walk off, hips swaying and for a moment he wonders what you’d be like dancing on the stage. When you return with his plate, he groans at the sight of the wings. He hadn’t been able to eat meat due to the press being on his ass and he has missed it. “So what are you doing for Christmas Day?” Dieter asks you, curious to hear your plans and long for his own.

You shrug slightly watching him pick up a wing and smell it. He groans and his eyes flutter before he takes a bite and it’s kind of fascinating to see how eager he is for a chicken wing. “The usual.” You glance around to make sure the boss isn’t signaling or no one else needs anything. As much as you feel Dieter needs entertainment, you do have to serve others. “Probably lay around in my pajamas watching Christmas movies on Hallmark and baking some cookies.” Just a small batch, but nothing sounded better. Maybe sleeping in a little.

"No family?" Dieter asks with intrigue. You look like the kind of girl who has a boyfriend at home, parents, a dog. The whole shebang. You shake your head, "they live across the country and I can't afford to go home this year." You admit and Dieter frowns, hating to hear that. "I'm sorry. I'm alone too. My Christmas Day usually consists of too much booze and watching shit TV." He snorts, sipping the champagne after setting a bony chicken wing down.

You tilt your head, confused as to why someone famous like Dieter would spend the holidays alone. “Why don’t you have some kind of party? Hang out with friends?” You ask, not knowing much about Hollywood and actors. “Surely you don’t have to be alone if you don’t want to be. You’re- you know, Dieter Bravo.”

Dieter scoffs, “because I’m sick of the insincerity. The lack of authenticity around the holidays is disgusting. I want - I want something real. I want to bake cookies and watch shitty movies. I want to just be with someone and it be real.” He admits, sighs as he wipes his hands and turns to look at you. “God, you’re fucking gorgeous.” He groans, staring at you. You are prettier than the dancers, sexier for sure and he is still high when he blurts out “what does your cunt taste like?”

You don’t let things that come out of men’s mouths shock you anymore. If you did, you would be walking around with the surprised Picakchu face all the time, so you just lean in and give him a faint smile. “Heaven.” You promise silkily, watching his eyes widen when more as they flick down to your covered crotch. Now comes the moment where Dieter Bravo offers you more of those hundred dollar bills to find out and he goes from decent to asshole in your book. Which will be sad because you loved Hunger Strike. 

Dieter swallows, knowing that you are what he has been looking for. “Come stay with me.” He demands and you shake your head. 

“I’m sorry. I don’t sleep with-” 

Dieter waves his hands, “no. I don’t want sex.” He shocks even himself with that statement, “I want to spend Christmas with you. I want to bake cookies. I want to watch movies. I want to decorate a tree. All the holiday shit. You come to my house. I want…I want you to pretend to be my spouse. No sex.” He promises, “just - I want to be normal. I want - I want to spend Christmas with you and I’ll pay you.”

It’s probably the most bizarre request you’ve ever had and that’s saying something considering one guy wanted to do a shot of Jack out of your asshole. You frown, hating that your immediate response is to ask how much but a girl has to pay her bills. “This isn’t some trick to get me to your house and pull some Armie Hammer shit, is it?” You ask suspiciously.

Dieter shakes his head, “fuck no. I like being tied up though.” He winks and you roll your eyes. “Seriously though, I don’t want sex. I just want company. It’s like…it’s like Pretty Woman. I just want a companion over the holidays and I like you. I’ll pay you…twenty thousand for two days. Until the day after Christmas.”

“Twe-twenty- thou-thousand?” You gasp out, eyes nearly popping out of your head as you try to imagine having that much money. “You want to pay me twenty thousand dollars to pretend to be your wife and do Christmas shit with you for two days? No sex? No funny stuff? I sleep alone?”

“You will have your own room. I just - I know it’s weird but I want you to pretend we are married and do traditional Christmas stuff with me. I, um, I have never really experienced it since my parents got divorced before I was three so I want to experience a real family Christmas. Just do the things most families do together.”

It’s crazy to consider it, you know it. Every bit of advice you give to dancers runs through your head; ‘don’t go home with that man’, ‘if it’s too good to be true, it is’. Still….twenty thousand dollars to bake cookies and watch movies sounds amazing. “Half upfront.” You demand, arching a brow in challenge.

Dieter grins, pleased you’ve agreed. “Deal.” He holds his hand out and you shake it, making him giggle with excitement. “I’ll have a car come pick you up in the morning. I’ll have my assistant get us everything we need for the holiday and I will have my assistant bring you the check for ten thousand in the morning. Unless you want me to transfer it now?” Dieter grabs the phone he hates carrying around.

“No, uh, in the morning is fine.” You bite your lip. “No, wait-  yeah, a transfer would be okay.” You don’t trust checks because he could stop payment or it be bad. You don’t think he would scam you, but twenty thousand is so much money to you.

Dieter nods, “you have your phone? We can do it now.” He is desperate to have a proper Christmas, one like the stupid movies he watches and cries at when he’s alone. He watches you grab your phone from your apron and he smiles when you pull up your banking info. “Type it in sweetheart.” He hands You his phone for you to copy the information. For some reason, he trusts you. He’s in a strip club two days before Christmas but he just trusts you implicitly.

Dieter presses the transfer button, sending ten thousand to your account. It’s worth it. Every penny will be worth it if he can experience a picturesque Christmas. “Give me your address and my assistant will come and pick you up tomorrow.” He says, handing you back his phone so you can put your number in it.

Your eyes widen when you check your own phone and see an extra ten thousand in your account. “Uh, sure.” You bite your lip and open up your contact card to give him your full name, phone number and address. “Just, uh, if you change your mind about this, let me know and I’ll transfer the money back.” You promise, not believing that it would be right to keep it if he woke up tomorrow and realized he had made a mistake.

Dieter shakes his head, “I won’t.” He pulls another couple of hundred dollar bills and hands one to you, “for the wings. See you tomorrow, wifey, for our Hallmark Christmas.” He winks and stands, walking over to the stage to toss the other bill to Kandy Kane before he sways slightly as he walks out of the club, still high as a kite but he’s already dialing his assistant to get everything ready for you.

****

Normally you sleep until noon in the afternoon when you work because of the hours - not closing until three or four and then getting home. This morning, however, you were wide awake at 9, showering and trying to decide what to pack for two days at Dieter’s house. Where does he live? You don’t have a clue, but it has to be better than the cramped apartment you share with your roommate in a rundown area. It could be worse, but it could also be a lot better but it’s what you can afford while you work your ass off to better yourself. Deciding to have a few things to change into, you put on leggings and your most festive Christmas sweaters. Wondering if this is really happening as you nervously watch the clock.

Dieter is brushing his hair, almost treating this like a role as he styles his usually messy hair into a gelled back comb. His sweater is expensive and rarely worn except for press events but it helps him get into character and he smiles, excited to spend Christmas with someone. He had a tree delivered this morning and his assistant laid out the decorations for you and him to decorate the tree. There’s ingredients for dinners and hot chocolate and cookies. The kitchen is almost overflowing and Nat King Cole’s smooth voice is already flowing through the house.

A driver…a fucking driver comes to pick you up from your apartment. Dressed in a suit and driving the cleanest SUV you’ve ever seen in your life. On the backseat, there is a package for you, presumably from his assistant and you open it up to find an NDA ready to be signed and a list of activities and foods that they have prepared. “Jesus, money really does buy what you want.” You mutter as you sign the papers and stuff them back inside. You don’t care about not being able to talk about this with anyone, who would believe you? You look out the window and feel like a tourist as the driver takes you to the Sherman Oaks area.

Dieter struggles to contain himself when he gets the text that you are on your way. His assistant had you send a photo of the NDA and so Dieter is confident that he can make this an amazing time...you are going to give him what he wants: a proper holiday. He paces, shoving his hands in his pants as he waits for you to arrive at his home.

You are nervous when you stop in front of a gorgeous house. It’s large, a little bit more traditional than you were expecting, but it screams that this person has money. Lord knows you would never live somewhere like this. You wait until the driver opens the door and slide out, shouldering your purse and biting your lip as you try to gather your nerves. He just wants a Christmas experience and you had decided to shove a small present and some wrapping paper in your bag, something ridiculous, but what do you buy a movie star who wants you to act like his wife for Christmas? “Here we go.” You mutter to yourself, the driver getting your bag as you walk up the path to the front door.

When the doorbell rings, Dieter brushes his hair back and rushes to open the door. Grinning when he sees you, he steps ahead to let you in. "Come in. Come in." He gestures with his hands too, excitement making him like an over eager puppy. He has the music playing and he is ready to get the holiday season started.

You don’t exactly know what you were expecting, but you weren’t expecting Dieter to look so….put together. He looks like he’s attending a Christmas movie premier, and his eyes are bright and excited. “Hi.” You step into the house and look around, not surprised that it’s clean since you’re sure he has a maid or housekeeper or something. “Hope you weren’t waiting too long.” You offer.

Dieter shakes his head, admiring you. You look just as beautiful as you did last night except you're wearing leggings and a Christmas sweater so it's his fucking dream come true. He smiles, watching you for a moment. "Not at all. Come in. I'll show you to your room." He says, reaching out to take your bags from the driver before the driver shuts the door and leaves you alone with the actor.

“This house is gorgeous.” You gush, looking around at the obvious designer decor. It looks very un-lived in, but maybe he liked it that way. “It’s going to look amazing after we decorate it for Christmas.”

Dieter grins, "absolutely! I have so much I want to do. I want to have eggnog and make hot chocolate. I want to bake sugar cookies and decorate them and I want to decorate the tree and watch movies and - shit. We need to get started." He rushes out, carrying your bags and he sets your bags down in the beautiful guest room.

You can’t help but laugh at the enthusiasm, it is a far cry from most men at the holidays. You hum, delighted at the bedroom and you know you won’t have any problem staying here for two days. “So, how about we turn on a Christmas movie while we get started on the cookies and we can decorate the tree while they are baking?” You suggest. “While drinking hot chocolate. We’ll save the eggnog for when we are snuggled in watching movies tonight.” You send him a small wink. “Boozy eggnog is my favorite.”

Dieter groans at the thought. God, this was his best idea ever. “I love that. Let’s do it!” He’s practically bouncing as he watches you open your bag. “Come on baby. We haven’t got all day. Let’s get started!” He whines a little, wanting you to hurry up so the festivities can begin.

His giddiness is almost infectious and you put down your toiletry case. “Okay.” You kick off your shoes and grin at him. “Let’s go make sure we’ve got everything we need.”

Dieter practically giggles as he takes your hand and guides you through the house to the kitchen, proudly displaying everything his assistant had purchased for your Christmas spectacular. “Sugar cookies.” Dieter says as he walks over to the section labeled “cookie making.” His assistant laid everything out for what he declared he wanted to do.

“Wow.” You whistle under your breath and look over all the ingredients happily. “Do you want to have some hot chocolate while we mix up cookie dough or do you want to save that for decorating the tree?” The open concept kitchen and living area was perfect for seeing the large 85 inch TV and the 12 foot Christmas tree from the island.

Dieter shakes his head, "let's have it later." He reaches out to touch your arm, "thank you for coming here sweetheart. I- I haven't ever experienced a proper Christmas. My parents...they got divorced when I was a kid but they - they were always arguing during the holidays." He rolls his eyes and walks over to the oven, biting his lip. "Um, do you know how this works?"

It’s sad that he’s not had a proper Christmas, that the people who had made him couldn’t put aside their differences to give their child good memories. “I do.” You are intrigued by the idea that he doesn't know how to use his own stove. “I typed up my favorite recipes on my phone.” You announce, swiping it open and grinning. “We need to preheat the oven to 375.”

Dieter bites his lip, “could you- I don’t know how to use this. I don’t really, um, I don’t really cook. Ever.” He admits with flushed cheeks, feeling a little useless. He should know this basic shit but his parents never taught him.

“No worries!” You wave away his embarrassment as if it’s nothing. “One apartment I lived in only had two burners that worked and the oven only heated up to a certain temp.” You tell him as you walk over and examine the knobs. “Every one of them is different.” You press the button and turn the temperature knob, smirking when the LED screen for the oven lights up. “Perfect!”

Dieter smiles, watching you, and he is glad you are here. He made a good choice with you. You’re patient and kind already. Perfect for Christmas. He watches you set the oven and he bites his lip, wondering what to do next. “I haven’t made cookies either.” He confesses feeling so stupid.

“Best part about cookies is eating the dough.” You promise him before grabbing the very Christmasy aprons his assistant has bought. “Okay, cover that very sexy sweater so we don’t get flour on it and we are going to make the perfect sugar cookies for tonight!” The Christmas music is playing through the subtle spears in the house and you just feel good right now. Wanting to make this special for him.

He can’t help but smirk at you, “you think this sweater is sexy?” You playfully roll your eyes, making him chuckle, and he winks at you while he ties the apron around his waist. You quickly get to work, showing him what to measure for the ingredients and soon enough, he’s using the cookie cutter for the dough. “I’m doing it.” He says more to himself, a wide grin on his face as he admires the Christmas tree shaped cookie.

“Here, try some.” You pinch a small ball of dough in your fingers and offer it to him. You had expected him to take from you with his hand, but Dieter leans down and eats the cookie dough from your fingers, his tongue brushing over your skin and making you giggle slightly.

He groans as the sweetness hits his tongue and he swallows the bite. “Shit that’s good stuff. Almost like crack…and I should know.” He teases, winking at you and he continues cutting out the cookies. “So…are you from L.A?” He asks, wanting to know more about you.

You want to give him a few details, but you also want to keep this magical for him. Looking over his shoulder, you supervise his cookie cutting and hum. “Oh you know, same old story as everyone else. The glamor of L.A. was exciting and then I realized it’s not that great.” You shrug slightly, moving over to a saucepan to start measuring out ingredients for some hot chocolate to cook while the cookies are baking. “But my favorite story is how we met.” You tell him, sending him back a playful wink when he looks at you confused. “Who knew my runaway dog from my dog walking job would lead to being married to Dieter Bravo.”

Dieter grins when he picks up your storyline, and he walks over to you, placing his floured hands on your hips. “Is this okay?” He asks and you nod. “I thought you were the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. Flustered with those dogs but still so gorgeous.” He smiles at you.

“Please.” You roll your eyes and stir the simmering chocolate on the stove. “I was a mess and the hottest guy who I’ve ever seen catches the little terror and is calmly feeding him the beef jerky he was eating.”

Dieter smirks, “beef jerky? I’m supposed to be vegan. Polls well among my fans. Weed and vegetables. No jerky.” He teases, internally puffing his chest at you calling him the hottest guy you’ve ever seen but he knows you are just playing along. “Then we went for coffee and we just hit it off. Who knew you’d have been my future wife?”

“Well since you are vegan, I guess I better change my plans from the beef wellington I was planning to make for Christmas dinner.” You tease, watching his eyes widen slightly. “Maybe some mushroom steaks instead? Hubby?” You wink again, enjoying the sense of teasing and playfulness, something you think he doesn’t do with a lot of people. 

Dieter shakes his head, eyes horrified. “Absolutely not. You have to make it. No one will know.” He pleads, voice taking on a whining quality as his grip on your hips tightens slightly. “Please baby. Can you please make beef wellington?”

You smirk and lean back against him. “Of course, honey.” You purr. “We are going to have a perfect Christmas dinner followed up by way too many cookies for dessert.” The timer you set goes off and you hum. “First batch needs to come out to cool before we decorate them.”

Dieter grins with excitement, letting go of you so you can take the cookies out of the oven. He leans over, admiring his handiwork and he beams, excited that he actually makes something edible. He makes some more cookies with the cutters, glancing at you constantly, and he is reminded once more of what a good idea this was of his. To have you in his home, indulging in his fantasy of a perfect Christmas.

Once more cookies are in the oven and the hot chocolate is poured up into large mugs, you motion towards the large Christmas tree that is standing bare next to a gorgeous picture window that spans from floor to ceiling and gives immaculate views of the city. “Do you want to start putting the lights and ornaments on the tree?” You ask, noticing that everything looks brand new, like it was just purchased. 

“Yeah.” Dieter shuffles slightly, embarrassed. “My assistant went and got all this today, I didn’t have any decorations.” He admits. 

“That’s okay.” You don’t want to judge him, not when he’s so happy about all of this. “They look like they will be gorgeous and you can always pick out a few more to add every year. You know, make it a tradition.”

Dieter is buzzing as you start to put lights around the tree, helping you and when you’re on the ladder to finish the top part, he can’t help but admire your ass. You are gorgeous, he can’t help noticing that, but the way you are making him feel is engineered by the holiday spirit. It’s not real, even if he’s desperately pretending it is.

“All that is left is the star.” You announce, looking back down at him and choosing to ignore the way that he was staring at your ass. “Honey, you would do the honors and put it on?” You ask, holding it out to him as you climb back down. “I think it should be you to do it.”

Dieter flusters but agrees, smiling at you as he replaces you on the ladder and proudly places the star on top of the tree. Pride of place and looking so beautiful. The tree looks like something from a fairy tale and Dieter cannot be happier. He steps off of the ladder and wraps his arm around your waist, “thank you.” He leans in to kiss your cheek before he looks back at the tree to admire it.

“It looks amazing.” You grab your phone and take a quick selfie with Dieter in front of the tree. It won’t be something you show to anyone but you deserve a memento of your hard work and beautiful decorating together. “The cookies should be ready to decorate if you want to do that.” You offer, knowing he wants to pack as much Christmas spirit as he can into the two days.

Dieter nods, so grateful that you are going along with this like you actually are his wife. He smiles, “that sounds amazing baby.” He doesn’t even think about not calling you baby but he likes the way it sounds when he talks to you. He smiles, playfully rubbing your back as he guides you into the kitchen and admires the Christmas tree from its place across the room.

The last batch of cookies come out of the oven to cook while you arrange all the decorative frostings and sprinkles. “So I have a friend who makes those really fancy cookies, and she made ones that look like gray sweatpants, complete with a package impression.” You give a dirty little laugh as you outline the star cookie you’re decorating in red frosting. “Love those damn cookies.”

Dieter raises his eyebrow, surprised at you but he equally loves that you’re a little dirty. He smirks, watching you, and he snorts when you wink at him. “They taste good?” He asks, picking up the white icing and he growls in frustration when he fucks it up immediately.

“Honey, don’t worry.” You reach over and pick up a toothpick to smooth out the mistake. “See? Anything you don’t like, over it in sprinkles or the colored sugar. Imperfect cookies are the best tasting ones.”

Dieter hates that it isn’t perfect but he lets it go, swallowing harshly as he starts to put sprinkles on the cookie. You calling him honey has his stomach twisting and he bites his lip, trying to concentrate on the next cookie he is decorating.

“This is a lot of fun.” You admit, giving him a smile as the decorated cookies pile up. “I love making cookies. Always dreamed of being like those movies where you exchange cookies with your neighbors every holiday.”

Dieter grins, “I wish it was like that but L.A isn’t exactly a picturesque holiday scene. It’s too hot, and palm trees don’t really scream Christmas. Plus…my neighbors are assholes.” He snorts, shaking his head as you both finish up the last of the cookies. He’s gotten better at decorating.

You wonder how much the neighbors are really assholes and how much of it is just being done with Dieter’s antics, imagining him to be a handful as a neighbor. Instead of asking, you just send him a warm grin. “Well that just means more cookies for us.”

Dieter grins, “I like the way you think, baby.” He finishes up the last cookie with flare, sprinkling the edible glitter over it with a flourish. “They look delicious. Can we - do you want to watch a movie and have a few cookies?” He asks, not even thinking about the mess in the kitchen.

“We have to.” You whirl around the open the fridge and pull out some milk. “Why don’t we turn on the Hallmark channel? They always have great, cheerful, romantic movies. Or we can find some classics?”

Dieter bites his lip, “my favorite movie is It’s a Wonderful Life. Can we watch that?” He asks, knowing it’s a classic but it’s not exactly cheery like Elf. That’s probably why he likes it. A bit of misery mixed with the joy makes it more relatable.

You immediately melt, giving a sappy sigh. “I love It’s a Wonderful Life.” You admit breathlessly. “For me, it’s a must watch every single year.” You start poking around in his cabinets to look for glasses and luck upon them when you open the first door. “Why don’t you go turn it on and I’ll bring in the milk?”

He beams, so excited that you want to watch the movie he so dearly loves and has watched since he was a kid. He kisses your cheek before he rushes into the living room, grabbing the remote to turn on his ridiculously big TV. He works fast to find the movie in his library and puts it on, the music starting just as you sit down with the tray of cookies and milk.

“I love Jimmy Stewart movies.” You reach over to hand Dieter a tall glass of milk. “I remember watching Mr. Smith Goes to Washington in school when I was younger and it made me want to make movies back then.” You chuckle at your younger wide eyed dreams and lean back against his expensive couch with one of the obviously new Christmas blankets to pull over your lap. “What made you want to act, honey?”

Dieter bites his lip, “I, uh, I didn’t really want to be an actor. My mom…she decided to take me for a kids casting call for a commercial when I was four and I’ve been in the business ever since. Got cast in a movie when I was ten and I’ve had roles ever since. During the lockdown, I was crawling out of my skin so I took Cliff Beasts 6 to get out of my house. Acting is all I’ve ever known.”

You feel horrible for him, wondering if he would have chosen something else if he had the opportunity to. “Well, you’re an amazing actor.” You promise him, reaching over and laying your hand on his leg. “Hunger Strike is great, but my favorite one was the little Indy movie you did a couple of years ago, Horizon? It just- I loved it. You should have won another Oscar.”

Dieter grins, reaching for your hand. “I loved that movie so much. As soon as I read the script, I knew I had to be in it. My agent didn’t think it was high profile enough but I didn’t care. It was a passion project.” He confesses, blushing a little since you have watched his movies.

“You should do more of them.” You insist, squeezing his hand. “Doesn’t matter if they are high profile or not, your fans will love it and who knows? You can shine a spotlight on some small, just getting started directors, give them a boost up.”

Dieter nods, “I have a few scripts that I’ve been sent that I need to read from new writers and new directors. Do you, uh, do you have a dream? Other than working at the club?” He asks, keeping his hand in yours.

“Honestly?” You give a small shrug. “I would love to write.” You admit, almost bashfully. You’ve never told many people about it and you hope he’s not the type to think it’s stupid. “Books.”

Dieter’s eyes widen, “you write? What do you write about? Do you have any excerpts? I fucking love reading. Wish I had more time for it honestly. Tell me more.” He demands, eyes wide and eager.

The movie plays in the background but neither one of you is paying attention. You squirm slightly and give a small, embarrassed shrug. “I’m sure that it’s not something you want to read.” You say breezily, sure that he will roll his eyes. “I write- I like writing romance, but like- science fiction romance?”

Dieter snorts and you instantly deflate but he shakes his head. “Baby girl, I read fucking Twilight. I love romance. I love sci-fi. Tell me what your idea is.”

It makes you feel a little better but you still chew on your lip. “I want to write a series where the main character is a hunter, her family was destroyed by vampires when she was little and so it’s her mission to kill them. She gets bitten by a werewolf along the way.” You grin. “I also want to add the element of soulmates so it ends up that the latest vampire she is chasing would have been hers as a human and he hates werewolves.”

Dieter contemplates your idea for a few moments, making you squirm, until he grins. “That sounds fucking incredible!” He says in awe of your imagination. “Have you started writing this?”

“A little.” You huff. “It's hard to write with the schedule I work, or I’m just emotionally worn out by the way I’m constantly fending off sleazeballs at the club.” You snort. “They don’t seem to understand that I serve drinks, not handjobs.”

Shaking his head, Dieter squeezes your hand. “Assholes. Respect and consent are fucking important and necessary. If I go to a club, I always make sure I ask if I can touch. Not that I- I don’t want a happy ending.” He flusters, “I can get laid in a heartbeat without paying but I- I want something that actually means something.”

“Of course you can.” You don’t doubt that. He’s Dieter Bravo. “You’re hot, first and foremost, but you’re also famous.” Being hot is more important to you, it doesn’t matter that he’s famous, or rich.

Dieter shakes his head, "see? I don't want someone to want me simply because I'm Dieter Bravo. I want someone to want me because they want me. Who I truly am. The real Dieter but...I don't even know if I know who I truly am anymore." He confesses, biting his lip.

You snort, shaking your head. “I wasn’t saying that being famous is the most important part. You’re genuinely hot.” You huff at him. “You don’t realize that? I’m sure that someone who isn’t vapid would soak up the real you. Come on, you obviously want love and happiness. Maybe you would even do less drugs.”

Dieter chuckles, “I wish. It’s a fucking expensive addiction to have. Do you - are you - do you take any drugs?” He swears he can’t speak around you. You get him tongue tied because you’re so goddamn beautiful, especially sitting there wearing the Christmas sweater and that sparkle in your eye. He won’t push for more, that’s not what this is about and he didn’t pay money for sex, he wants the fantasy of Christmas he’s always longed for.

“No, I’ve been lucky. Been offered them plenty of times but beyond smoking some weed every now and again, I don’t do anything.” You know Dieter has, you watched him OD on camera during the behind the scenes thing for Cliff Beasts. “Most I do is drink.”

Dieter nods, “I can respect that. Drugs…it numbs the loneliness. I guess I thought by now I’d have a wife and my own family to look after, enjoy the holidays with. I haven’t been so lucky.” He sighs, keeping your hand in his. “Anyway, let’s rewind the movie and watch it.” He says, reaching for the remote to deflect off of him.

You let the conversation die, not wanting him to be mired in misery. Your job here is to make him feel like he’s having a proper Christmas. “Let’s turn on your fireplace.” You suggest, knowing that it’s not cold enough, but it would be a pretty aesthetic. “Turn off the lights and have the tree lit up. I know it’s still light outside but it’s the atmosphere that makes it, right?”

Dieter nods, almost making himself dizzy and he grabs the remote for the fireplace. “It’s fake.” He chuckles, making you snort, and he turns the fireplace on while you turn on the Christmas tree. It’s picture perfect and when you settle on the sofa, he restarts the movie. He smiles at you and shifts to lay down, resting his head in your lap.

You melt a little at how desperate Dieter is for affection. Your fingers tangle into his hair and you play with it while you watch the movie. You hum as Jimmy’s character talks about Mary wanting the moon and how he will get it for her. It’s something that you want, but you don’t think anyone will ever be that for you. To care about what you want and try to make you happy. You want a mutual relationship, where someone cares for you as much as you care for them.

Dieter groans as your fingers card through his hair. It’s intoxicating and he almost closes his eyes as he struggles to concentrate on the movie. It’s been so long since someone touched him like this. He nuzzles his cheek into your thigh, just breathing you in as the faux fire crackles and the Christmas lights twinkle. This is what he’s yearned for. “That feels so good, baby.” He hums, keeping his eyes on the screen.

“Just relax and enjoy it.” You murmur softly. It’s nothing for you to play with his hair and you have him almost purring. It’s fun, curling your finger around the small curls and every now and again you scratch his scalp, knowing how much you would love it.

Dieter can’t help but twitch in his pants at the feel of you scratching his scalp. He fucking loves it. With a groan, he tries to discreetly reach down and adjust himself, watching the movie and you from the corner of his eye to see if you notice.

You smirk to yourself when you see him adjust himself, continuing to scratch his head. You just pretend like you don’t know what it's doing to him. So he’s getting turned on by having his head scratched? You’ve been turned on by things that catch you off guard. “Does that feel good, honey?” You ask softly, looking back at the tv.

Dieter is flustered by what you’re doing to him. He never usually gets hard from this kind of thing. He’s had men and women expose every part of themselves and he’s twitched but not gotten hard. This intimacy, the atmosphere has him hard and aching for you but that’s not what he paid you for. He doesn’t want to take advantage and ruin this. This is about the holiday, not sex. The movie is coming to an end and Dieter’s cock is still hard but he has tears in his eyes as he watches Jimmy on screen. So many emotions that he identifies with and yet so many he doesn’t truly understand despite acting them out.

“It always makes me cry.” You sniffle slightly, blinking back tears when you hear them singing at the end. “It’s just so- wonderful.” You laugh at yourself for being such a sap, and sigh, stroking Dieter’s hair one last time before you have to stop touching him.

Dieter sighs in both contentment and a little upset you’ve stopped running your fingers through his hair. “Can we watch something else? Maybe, um, maybe Love Actually? It’s another one of my favorites.” He confesses with a blush as he looks up at you.

You smile at the idea that this man who has so many wild antics in Hollywood has a secret affinity for Love Actually. “We can do that, although we should probably eat more than cookies right? What do you want to eat, honey?”

Dieter bites his lip, “my assistant gets my groceries so I don’t…I don’t really know what I have in the fridge.” He confesses, feeling stupid for not knowing. “But…I wouldn’t mind grilled cheese and tomato soup.” He tilts his head at you.

“That honestly sounds like a perfect meal.” You admit, your own stomach agreeing happily. “Why don’t you come with me and we can make it together?” You suggest. “It’ll be fun. We can use the cookie cutters and make Christmas grilled cheese sandwiches.”

Dieter practically cheers as he shuffles off of the sofa. “Hell yes. I love the way you think, baby!” He grins as he rushes to the kitchen to get started on the dinner with you. This is more than he could’ve ever wanted. You are indulging his every fantasy…well, most of them.

You love the idea that the dinner you are making isn’t something fancy or involved. Simple comfort food that always hits the spot and makes you feel cozy. There is canned soup in his pantry, which is amazingly large and you can just dream of having one day, and there are different cheeses and bread to make the perfect sandwiches. “I love your kitchen.” You gush as you get everything out. “Soooo much.”

Dieter grins, pleased that you like his home. “I didn’t design it. I just bought this home. It used to belong to Brad Pitt.” He snorts, “good thing it wasn’t in the divorce settlement. At least I haven’t been married.” He shrugs, a little upset by that fact but marriages in Hollywood are destined for failure. There are too many temptations and offers.

“What kind of wedding would you want?” You ask curiously as you open the cans and dump them into a pan to warm up the soup. He’s got everything you could want in a kitchen but he obviously doesn’t use it. If you had this kitchen you would cook every day. “Big, small? Lavish, courthouse?”

Dieter leans against the counter and watches you, “I would want a small wedding. Just me and my partner. I don’t have any family and my friends…they aren’t real. Just fake friends who want whatever I can give them.” He sighs, rubbing his cheek, “I’d want a beach wedding. Just me and my partner and no distractions or press.”

“That sounds really nice.” You smile at the thought, imagining Dieter in some white Hawaiian shirt and linen pants, barefoot and grinning happily. “I could see that. Something towards sunset, warm and intimate.” You imagine it for yourself for a moment before dismissing it as stupid. Dieter asked you to spend Christmas with him, not the rest of your life and you know that he could be fickle from what the magazines report. “I hope you get that.” 

Scratching his cheek, Dieter sighs. “I guess we will see. Doesn’t look like it’s on the cards for me but who knows? Maybe one day.” He offers you a weak smile and turns towards the bread. “Do you want me to do anything?”

“Do you want to butter the bread and decide how cheesy you want the sandwiches to be?” You ask as you open the cabinets to see about finding the spices. Canned soup is always better when you add spices. 

Dieter nods, excited to be doing something like this after so long of depending on others to just look after him. He’s hungry today. Probably because he hasn’t gotten high enough to tune out the hunger like he does on days when he’s feeling self conscious. “So what about your dating life? Anyone on your mind?” Dieter asks as he butters the bread.

You snort and shake your head. “Yeah, let me tell you, my dating options are fantastic.” You huff. “Anyone I tell where I work automatically assumes I’m a dancer or that I’m a prostitute.” You roll your eyes. “Or that I’m easy and want to be their doormat. So I just….don’t date.” 

Dieter shakes his head, “people can be fucking idiots. You are doing your job. You’re a cocktail waitress. You aren’t paid to take your clothes off and if you do, you discuss that with your partner and ensure you have proper communication. I have been naked for movie scenes and I’ve talked to my partner about it beforehand to make sure they understand it’s just acting. Also, it’s insane you don’t date. No matter what you do for work, you’re fucking gorgeous and anyone with eyes would be dumb to let your job be a deal breaker.”

“Men can be very weird about things like that.” You give a small shrug and bite back the comment that you are well aware of his nude scenes. It’s always been one of those things that you thought ridiculous where you see everything on a woman and you only see the man’s ass on tv. Although Dieter does have a nice, albeit tiny, ass. “But thank you. I’ve also been told I have high standards for wanting a man to not cheat on me. Apparently being okay with looking but not touching isn’t enough.”

Dieter snorts, “I’m all for free love. If my partner is happy with it. I’ve had threesomes, foursomes, orgies. But never, ever, without the implicit consent of my partner. Most of those times I’ve been single though. Cheating is just fucked up. Just don’t be with someone if you’re gonna cheat on them.” He rolls his eyes, “that’s just wrong. I don’t agree with that shit. When you’re with someone, you’re with them. If not, just break up. Don’t cheat. It’s cruel.” He shakes his head.

You are so surprised at his view on things, although you really appreciate it. “Thank you!” You point the spoon at him. “Exactly. Just be single. Don’t fucking try to justify it by ‘oh I know you’re sleeping with dudes at work’ or ‘well you don’t give me seven blowjobs a week’. Just admit you aren’t made for a monogamous relationship and find something that works for you. Don’t be shitty and lie.”

Dieter nods, “precisely. Just be honest about what you want instead of selling the house and 2.5 kids then go and stick your dick in everything with a pulse. If you wanna do that, find a partner who can accept that. Me…I’ve kinda had my fill of orgies.” He admits seriously, “I’m tired of emotionless sex.”

“I’ve honestly never been into orgies.” You admit. “I’m selfish, I don’t want to share.” You’ve had your experiences and decided it wasn’t for you. “Besides, I’ve found most threesomes are about a guy wanting two girls but being insulted when you want another guy and pitching a fit.”

“Idiots.” Dieter rolls his eyes again, “you’ll find someone who will appreciate you and adore you without needing any of that extra shit.” He promises you, offering you a soft smile. “You’re a beautiful woman, inside and out, and you’ll find the right person.”

“Thank you.” It’s incredibly sweet of him to say that, and you give him a smile of gratitude. “You will find the same thing. Someone who just wants to take care of you and shower you in love and affection.”

Dieter’s heart thumps and he walks over to you at the stove, kissing your cheek. “Thank you, baby.” He knows this doesn’t exactly play into his fantasy but he likes talking to you about your realities. It gives him perspective and he is excited to spend Christmas with you.

Finishing dinner is relatively simple and soon you have another tray of food to bring out to the living room. “This is going to be a great holiday.” You murmur as the sun starts to set and the lights from the Christmas tree appear brighter.

Dieter beams as you tell him it’s going to be a wonderful holiday. He agrees and if so excited to be spending the holiday exactly as he’s always dreamed. He just wishes it was with his family, his children and you as his wife. It’s too easy to imagine when you sit down next to him.

The movie starts and you hand Dieter his bowl of soup and the star shaped grilled cheese slices. “So, when you have babies, how many do you want?” You ask him, really unable to see him with a baby. Maybe like that guy from The Hangover with the kid strapped to his chest.

Dieter dips the sandwich into the soup, chewing as he considers it. “I want at least three.” Your eyes widen and he shrugs, “I have enough money to care for twenty kids. I have the home for them, I have the staff. I just need a woman to have them.”

You snort, imagining him offering money to women to have babies with him. “Okay, Nick Canon, slow the baby gravy train down.” You joke before you take a bite of your own soup.

Dieter playfully rolls his eyes, “I said three. Not twelve. Besides, I don’t want multiple women. I want one. One that I- that I love. It’s just, it’s hard to find because I’m not easy to live with, easy to handle.”

“What are you talking about?” You huff and roll your eyes at his ridiculous comment. “You aren’t difficult to handle. Look at us. Last night you were asking how my cunt tastes and you are perfectly respectful and not acting like a jerk. You are thankful for what I’m doing for you and you are eager to be involved.”

He blushes at your kind words, knowing that he isn’t easy to handle, but you seem to be able to take him in your stride. Reminded of him asking you what your cunt tastes like has him blushing even more. “I, uh, I’m sorry about the, um, the cunt comment. Although I’m sure it does taste like heaven. I was high and I tend to just blurt things out.”

You laugh. “I thought it was funny, at least you were respectful about it, even then.” You don’t want him to beat himself up over it. “You seem like you are respectful of boundaries when they are pointed out. So, please don’t worry about it. At least I have an amazing story. Dieter Bravo asked how I taste.” You laugh again and wink at him playfully.

Dieter chuckles before he takes another bite of the grilled cheese. “You’d be the perfect wife though. You are gorgeous, kind, you can cook, you - any guy would be lucky to have you.” He tells you with a soft smile before he sips on his soup. He knows it’s just a fantasy but it’s too easy to see you in his life.

Your stomach flips and you manage a grin. “Well, when you find someone who wants me, let me know.” You joke, wishing that you didn’t feel vulnerable, like it was never going to happen for you. “Or I’ll just, you know, come spend Christmas with you until you find that perfect wife to give you three babies.”

Dieter grins, “I wouldn’t object to that. Maybe we could just spend the rest of our Christmases together.” He says without truly considering it, just imagining every Christmas like this but with kids running around. It’s a heavy thought but it doesn’t scare him. You seem to put him at ease. “So, um, do you have any plans to have kids in the future?”

“I want them.” You admit, with a small shrug. “But I have to find the guy and a better job. One where I wouldn’t be working at night or worrying about guys hitting on me more because I’m pregnant.” You roll your eyes, remembering how some of them went crazy for one of the dancers when she had been pregnant.

Dieter understands, knowing how guys can act around a pregnant woman. “You’d be a beautiful pregnant woman. I understand why you’d be hit on and I- I know why you’d want a different job.” He doesn’t judge you for your job but he knows why you’d want to change it if you were pregnant.” He wants to tell you he’d provide for you but he knows he can’t be that forward. He barely knows you. “Men can be creeps.” He scoffs, knowing how his sex can be.

“Besides….” You shake your head. “I’m never going to get what I really want.” You sigh. 

“What’s that?” Dieter asks and you bite your lip. “I’d love to be able to get to a point where I could be home with the baby, at least until they are in school. But I would need to become successful first to afford that.”

Dieter sets his now empty plate down and takes your hand in his. “So you become a writer…become successful…and then you’re able to stay at home and look after a baby. Well, shit. We can make that happen. I’m sure my agent has contacts. Do you have any pages written for your idea?”

You’re surprised that he wants to help you out, but you nod, knowing you’ve got at least three chapters down. “I can send you the document if you want to read it.”

“Hell yes. Please baby. Send it to me. I want to read it. See how good you are and maybe I can have my agent send some pages to a publisher so we can get you someone early.” Dieter nods and looks eager to help. 

You blink, surprised that he would be willing to use his connections to help someone else. You don’t know how many articles call Dieter selfish and spoiled, maybe catered to was more accurate, but this was kinder than anyone else has ever been about your writing before. “Thank you.” You gush out, leaning over and kissing his cheek softly.

Dieter’s heart thumps as you kiss his cheek and he flusters, shaking his head. “It’s nothing. It’s, uh, the least I can do. Everyone deserves a chance in this hell hole of a town. Everyone deserves a shot at their dreams.” He declares and then looks back at the movie, “oh this is my favorite part.” He points at the screen as Hugh Grant dances around on the screen.

You look back at the movie and giggle at him gyrating his hips on camera. “He’s a better dancer than you are.” You tease, having seen him dance on the behind the scenes they had put out on the disastrous Cliff Beasts saga.

“Hey!” Dieter pouts at you, “don’t be mean.” He winks at you after a moment, “to be fair, I was high for 99% of that movie and was high when I was dancing so I didn’t really get a chance to be a good dancer.” He chuckles, nudging you gently.

“Oh really?” You grin and put your plate down. Leaping to your feet, you grab his hand. “So come on, show me.” You demand, pausing the movie. “Turn on some music and dance with me. Show me those moves.”

"Oh shit." Dieter grins and shakes his head as he lets you drag him up. He bites his lip, making his way over to the stereo system he owns, complete with huge speakers and a turntable. He's never been a streaming music kind of guy. He loves the feel of vinyl, the sound, it reminds him of his childhood. He picks up a Christmas album while you pause the movie and he grins as the song starts to play through the speakers, reaching for your hand.

Dieter pulls you towards him and you try to ignore the way that your heart races. This isn’t real and he shouldn’t be making you imagine this is everyday, dancing together in the home you share together. “Your assistant bought this today, didn’t she?” You ask with a grin as the words to Jingle Bell Rock pours out of the speakers and both of you start to move to the beat.

Dieter shakes his head, “no. I’ve had my vinyls since I was a kid. I collect them. Nothing like music. I fucking love it, especially on vinyl. Streaming just isn’t the same sound.” Dieter spins you around and he pulls you back into his chest, his hands gripping your waist.

Your grin turns into a delighted laugh and you love how naturally the two of you seem to move together. “What does your collection look like?” You ask, not seeing a bookshelf of vinyls in his living room.

“It’s too big to fit in this room.” He confesses with a blush, “I keep some records out here but switch them out. My main collection is in the movie room.” He has always had a love of movies so naturally, he needed to have a movie room to watch them as well as his living room. “Maybe we can watch something in there later. I wouldn’t mind watching more movies.” He sways you as the music continues.

“That sounds good.” You don’t mind watching movies with him or just going through his records. But he is paying you for the experience that he wants. “Whatever you want to do.” You promise. “Although we do need to maybe go see some Christmas lights?”

Dieter nods, “yes! Let’s take a drive around the neighborhoods to see the lights, we can take some hot chocolate to go and just watch the world pass by.” He sighs, almost romantically, and pulls you close once more.

“That sounds perfect.” You want to tell him that he should decorate his own house, but you don’t. Imagining putting up decorations on the outside of the house as well. It’s not like this is going to last beyond the day after Christmas. You lean in and lay your head on his shoulder as he leads you through the song.

The song comes to an end and Dieter leans back to kiss your cheek. “Thank you for being here baby.” He says even though he knows he’s paying for you to be here. He just indulges in the fact that you are here for him because you want to be. The next song plays but Dieter doesn’t rush to pull back, content to just hold you. It’s been so long since he had this kind of intimacy without expectations.

Somehow, the two of you dance until the record ends, making you whine softly when you have to pull away from Dieter. He was actually a good dancer and warm and comforting. It felt good in his arms. “Should we get ready to go look at Christmas lights?” You offer quietly.

Dieter nods, knowing he can’t exactly wear a sweater and coat in L.A December weather but he’s excited to head out and see the lights in his shorts. “Come on baby!” He calls you from the garage while you get the flask of hot chocolate and marshmallows. He is practically buzzing as you turn on Christmas music for you to cruise through the neighborhood, enjoying the spectacular lights his rich neighbors no doubt paid someone to put up.

“Wow.” Dieter pulls the car to a stop and you both let down the windows to hear the music that is synchronized with the lights for a dazzling show. “I would love to do something like that.” You murmur to yourself, in awe of the time, effort and money it took to do something like that just for the hell of it. “I bet the sound and lights guys for movies have the best setups.” You joke.

Dieter chuckles, “I know a few that live around here. Let’s go see.” He pulls away from the curb, heading towards the guy who did the sound for the Jurassic World movies that lives in the neighborhood. “If his yard isn’t Christmas dinosaur themed, he’s doing it wrong.” Dieter says after he explains who the guy is.

“Ohhhh, I saw a triceratops inflatable for Christmas at the store!” You laugh. “I can imagine doing that or Star Wars themed for kids when I have them. Mickey and Santa are overdone. Find a niche.”

Dieter chuckles, “maybe that Mandalorian dude. People thought I was playing him until he took the helmet off. He looks nothing like me.” He snorts, turning into the street and already the house is impressively decorated.

You snicker and sneak a glance over at him. “Maybe a little.” You tease. “Looks like you two have a similar nose. But your lips are different.” You may or may not have spent a little bit of him staring at his lips during his movies. They are so cute and you love the little crease on his bottom lip.

Dieter smirks, not missing a beat. “You've been looking at my lips, wifey?” He teases, winking at you. You fluster and he loves it. He loves how he seems to affect you.

“You know you’re attractive.” You huff, slightly embarrassed, even though you know you shouldn’t be. Dieter seems to soak up this kind of attention so you don’t mind it too much. “You are on the Sexist People list nearly every year. Although you should have won over Chris Evans.” You snort and bite your own lip.

Dieter wrinkles his nose, “people only see the photo shoots with makeup and hair and stylists. They don’t see trash panda Bravo, which is who I am most days. I don’t tend to bother shaving or dressing in anything other than comfy clothes. If it is any consolation, you’re fucking hot. I haven’t been able to stop looking at your lips either baby. Fucking kissable but I - I didn’t pay you to be my - to be here for that. I paid you to be company and that was our agreement.

That statement should not be that hot to you. It shouldn’t make you want to unbuckle your seatbelt and crush your lips to his. But it does. For all the bullshit antics Dieter Bravo may pull, he genuinely believes in consent and that’s fucking sexy. You had seen the clips where he was asking anyone and everyone to sleep with him during the Cliff Beasts production, and being totally chill when they turned him down. The spoiled actor ego doesn’t extend to the bedroom and that was something that should be appreciated. You cover his hand on the gear knob with your own. “I thought you were hot in a sloppy way when you came in last night.” You promise him with a smirk. “And of course your lips are fucking kissable. You make me want to plant some of my chapstick on your lips.”

Dieter’s eyes widen in a comical way at your words and it soon turns into an undeniably sexy smirk. “Baby…can I fucking kiss you?” He asks, almost whining as he leans a little closer over the console when he’s stopped outside of the home that has a myriad of dinosaur inflatables - including some moving dinosaurs like the damn movie. It’s impressive but Dieter is more interested in you.

Your breath catches when he asks, the flood of arousal undeniable at the way Dieter Bravo is looking at you like he wants to make you Christmas dinner. Your eyes flicker down to his lips and you nod. “Yes.” You are breathless when you give him permission and nervous.

Dieter licks his lips, setting them, before he leans in to softly press his lips to yours. He groans at the first taste of that chapstick you mentioned and he reaches up to cup the back of your head, deepening the kiss. His tongue dips into your mouth and he groans when you open eagerly, allowing him to explore your mouth.

No fucking wonder he could get away with basically having two women on a red carpet event. There’s a small whimper in the back of your throat as your hand comes to curl around the back of his neck, pulling him closer while his tongue slides against yours and his own moan is breathed into your mouth like he is just as affected.

Dieter is in no rush to end this kiss, happily molding his lips to yours while his tongue slides against your teeth before tangling with yours. He caresses your neck while he kisses you until he pulls back after a moment to look at you in surprise. His heart is pounding and he hasn’t been this turned on in a long time. You’ve not even done anything but kiss but it has his heart racing.

You blink for a moment, quiet as you try to comprehend what the hell just happens at your phone dings, making you jump and breaking the spell over the moment. You look down and your heart is pounding. “Oh, there’s a little Christmas thing nearby.” You tell Dieter. “Spiced cider and hot chocolate, hay rides through a Christmas light thing.”

“Yeah? You wanna go babe?” Dieter asks, reaching for your free hand and acting like what just happened wasn’t as big a deal as his heart is making it out to be. His heart is thumping in his chest but he doesn’t let that show as he asks you to give him directions to this Christmas thing.

The two of you are quiet until you pull up into the busy parking lot. Kids and parents everywhere and you grin to yourself as you get out of the car. “They even have a little snow area!” You exclaim, pointing out the area where they were making snow for the kids to play in. It was melting quickly but the kids didn’t care, making snow angels. “One year I want to be snowed into a cabin for  Christmas.” You sigh wistfully.

“Oooh, that sounds like a dream. Snow falling. Fire going. Maybe one day we could do that.” Dieter is eager, parking the car and he gets out and comes around to open your door, holding his hand out for you. “Come on, let’s go.”

There is traditional Christmas music geared towards kids playing and the entire atmosphere is one of magic and joy. Even a sigh to visit Santa Claus for a last minute sit on his lap. Your hand in his feels just right and you squeeze his hand. “What do you want to do first?” You ask. “Oh! They have roasted chestnuts! I’ve always wanted to try them!”

Dieter grins, guiding you towards the chestnuts. “Come on baby, let’s get you some nuts.” He winks, making you roll your eyes, and he chuckles when you end up giggling at his dumb joke. He buys you a bag of roasted chestnuts, “here you go wifey.”

You pop one of the roasted nuts into your mouth and moan in pleasure and surprise at the taste. “Honey, you have to try this.” Your fingers immediately dive into the bag to pluck another and hold it up to his lips. “Please hubby?” You bat your eyes at him playfully.

He smirks, taking the nut from your grip and he wraps his lips around your fingers as he takes the nut into his mouth. He closes his eyes and pulls back, chewing on the roasted chestnut and he hums at the taste. “That’s fucking delicious.” He says after he swallows, his hand finding your waist and he squeezes your hip.

You can’t help yourself, not when he looks so cute and thrilled to be right here with you. Leaning in, you press your lips to his in a kid-friendly kiss that still has your heart pounding in your chest as you rock back on your heels and grin at him. “I’m paying for the spiced cider.” You promise. “My portion of our Christmas date.”

Dieter’s heart thumps at the kiss you offer him and he shakes his head at your offer to pay for the cider. “No. No. I’m paying for it.” He insists, “especially if this is a date night.” He continues the ruse, honestly wanting to believe it, it would be easy to imagine you as his wife. “I’m not letting my wife pay for anything.” He shakes his head, leaning in to kiss your cheek.

You roll your eyes playfully and huff at his inability to let you pay. “Fine.” You pout and sigh dramatically. “I’ll let my husband spoil me.” You reach for his hand and lace your fingers with his. “Let’s get our cider and get in line for the hayride.”

It’s too easy to be with you like this but Dieter knows that it’s end come the day after Christmas. He’s going to enjoy every second of your company. After paying for the cider, you wait in line for the hayride and Dieter notices a woman talking to her husband, both of them staring at Dieter. He sighs, knowing they recognize him despite his genius disguise of a baseball cap and plain t-shirt. He just hopes no one gets photos…for your sake.

“It’s cool, isn’t it?” You lean around Dieter and speak to the woman. “Seeing him in public.” You grin and put your fingers up to your lips. “Don’t tell anyone, since he’s trying to be incognito, but I can take a quick pic of you with him if you want. As long as you don’t post it tonight. Let him enjoy the Christmas Eve festivities.” You look back at Dieter to see if he’s okay with that.

Dieter nods, smiling at your genius way of getting the woman to keep his presence a secret. He quickly saddles up beside her after she hands you her phone and he grins as you take the photo, winking at you as he steps back beside you and kisses your cheek, “thank you baby. You should be my new PR manager.” He teases, taking his drink back from you after the woman thanks him.

Preening slightly at the compliment, you take a sip of your cider. “People are in awe when they see famous people being just like them.” You give him a small shrug and shuffle closer to him, enjoying the coziness of the atmosphere. “Let them think they are the only ones that figured it out, and they don’t spill the beans.”

Dieter rubs your arm, “you’re right but now, let’s hope we don’t get any more fuss about me being here. I want us to have privacy without people swarming. I hate that shit.” He leans in to press a kiss to your neck. He is grateful you agreed to spend this time with him. When you are called to get on the hayride, Dieter tosses your finished cider cups away and helps you up, his hand close to your ass.

The two of you are huddled together on the ride, not because the temperature calls for it, but the moment does. Leaning into him and holding his hand is natural, and you tuck your face against his neck with your other arm around his back. “Are you enjoying yourself, honey?” You whisper, wanting to make sure he’s not suddenly feeling anxious about being out with you. You’re a nobody and you can’t imagine that would be good for his reputation.

“I am. It’s perfect.” Dieter grins, cheeks almost hurting with how perfect today has been. You are worth every single penny he spent for your company. That reminds him that he paid for your company, you’re here for the money, not for him, and that makes him stiffen a little beside you.

When Dieter stiffens, you think there’s something that he doesn’t like so you rub his back more, looking around to see if you can spot anyone staring or taking pictures. You can’t even imagine how difficult it has to be sometimes. “Hey, when we go back to your house, do you want to change into pajamas and watch another movie?” You ask, wanting him to focus on something to look forward to. “Maybe make some popcorn and make out?” You take a risk and kiss his jaw, wanting to kiss him again.

Dieter hums, deep in thought about why you want to make out. Perhaps you pity him so much you think he’d want that. Or maybe you genuinely want to kiss him? He doesn’t know and he’s confused right now so he doesn’t say anything. Just waits until the ride is over to help you down and finally, he says “why do you want to make out with me?”

“Oh.” Your cheeks burn and you look away, mortified that you had read him wrong. “I- it was really nice kissing you. I’m sorry- I shouldn’t have- we don’t have to, I promise.” You rush out. “I’m not going to pout or throw myself at you.” You promise him, sure that he thinks if you like one of those fans who would tear his clothes off just to say they slept with Dieter Bravo.

Dieter notices how mortified you are and it hits him that you aren’t trying to please him, you want to kiss him. That makes his stomach twist and his heart thumping so hard he swears you can hear it. He surges forward to press his lips to yours, “it was really nice to kiss you too.” He murmurs as he pulls away from the quick peck.

Giggling in relief, you can’t help but grin. “I’m sorry, I know I must seem like an idiot, I just- you’re really nice and this has been a good day.” You huff, a little self conscious before you lean in and kiss him again.

Dieter pouts and shakes his head, cupping your cheeks, “not at all, baby. You have made this a perfect day. I want to go home, change into pajamas and make out.” He playfully nips your lower lip, “you ready to go?”

“Yes.” You’re a little breathless and beam at him, feeling your stomach flutter and you wonder why he seems to affect you so much. You’ve been hit on by men but he seems to just make you feel like a schoolgirl with a crush

Dieter is soon guiding you back to his car, eager to get home, and he opens the door to help you in before he rushes around to get in the car. “Let’s go home, baby.” He says as he pulls out of the parking lot, eager to get home and kiss you again.

The drive back to Dieter’s house is a lot quicker, both of you quiet as you watch the houses pass by. Biting your lip when you pull into the driveway, you look over at Dieter. “So I’ll change and meet you back downstairs?”

“Sounds like a plan, baby.” He grins, “go get changed.” He gets out of the car and quickly unlocks his house, eager to change into his own pajamas and settle on the sofa with you. He’s already half hard at the thought of kissing you, touching you.

You go back to the room that he had shown you to and change into your pajamas. You had packed some Christmas pajamas that would be perfect tonight, and you very purposefully take your bra off before you leave the bedroom and head towards the living room to meet Dieter there.

Dieter sits down on the sofa, eagerly waiting for you, and when you arrive in the festive pajamas, his breath is taken away. Shit, you look sexy even in those pajamas. “Come on baby, sit down. I thought we could watch Home Alone.” He pats the space beside him, eager to have you close.

“Home Alone is life.” You eagerly plop down next to him and throw your legs over his like you’ve done it a million times. “Always disappointed no one ever broke in at Christmas so I could wreck havoc. And that my parents weren’t rich enough to go to Paris.”

“What the fuck did his dad do to be able to afford to take all those people to Paris? Fuck, even I wouldn’t be that generous.” Dieter snorts and rubs your calves as the movie starts.

You bite back a moan at the way his fingers dig into the meat and muscle of your calves. “I don’t know, you’re pretty generous.” You compliment him, knowing that he’s been very generous with you.

“I guess I gotta get myself four kids to take on vacation to Paris and accidentally leave one behind.” He jokes, squeezing your calf and he can’t help but let his hand ride higher up, over your knee to your thigh.

“Four kids!” Your dramatic, wide eyed expression is absolutely to make him laugh and the warmth of it rolls over you when he does. “Good luck finding someone to have four kids. What happened to three? I think two would be my max.”

Dieter chuckles, “not if you get addicted to the sex.” He jokes, squeezing your thigh, “my oral can be very persuasive.” He sticks his tongue out and leans in to lick your neck, making your squeal and he chuckles against your skin until he stops, kissing your neck.

You have to remind yourself that this is a little scene for Dieter, he doesn’t really want you to have his kids. That would be crazy. Instead of lamenting that fact, you turn your head so your nose brushes his. “Hi.” You whisper with a grin.

Dieter grins, pulling back to look into your eyes, “hi.” He nudges his nose with yours. “Wanna make out?” He whispers and when you nod, he gently presses his lips to yours despite wanting to make out. He’s slow, cupping your cheek, and sliding his tongue into your mouth.

It’s juvenile to make out on a couch while a movie plays, but you love it. Moaning into his mouth softly while your tongues explore and you feel the familiar heat of arousal starting to burn in your core. Somehow, the two of you manage to end up horizontal on the sofa, you on top of Dieter surprisingly, and you are subtly rocking against him as you kiss.

Dieter caresses your back, his tongue moving with yours and his hands slide down to your ass, squeezing and pulling you closer to him, grinding you against him. He groans into your mouth, enjoying the feel of you above him, and he lets you lead this, not wanting to go too far.

You whine, feeling the hardening bulge under you and pull away, gasping for air while you look down at him. “I- I don’t want this to- I want to have sex with you.”  You admit. “Not because I’m- but because I want you.”

Dieter grins, “yeah? You want me to fuck you baby?” He asks, kissing your jaw and down to your neck. “You want me to make you cum?” He questions, squeezing your ass again. He’s eager to get you naked, hear you moan his name.

“Yes.” You whimper, grinding down on his cock and rolling your hips. Just because you didn’t dance at the club didn’t mean that you couldn’t. You press your lips to his gently. “Take me to bed, Dieter.”

Dieter nods, playfully smacking your ass, and he lets you shift off of him. He doesn’t care about the movie playing as he guides you to his bedroom. It’s a huge en-suite with a king sized bed and he turns to you as he stands in front of it. “Let me fuck you.” He requests, his hands caressing your waist.

You smirk and start to lift your shirt over your head. “First I want you to find out what my cunt tastes like.” You demand, exposing your tits to his eyes and tossing the shirt down. “And I want to see if the cock shown in Blue Hypnosis was actually yours or a body double.”

Dieter smirks, stepping away from you and his eyes are fixed on your breasts. “Shit. I wanna-” He can’t help himself, surging forward and ducking down to suck on your nipple, biting and licking over the hardening bud and groaning as you reach down to cup him through his sweats.

“Fuck!” You hiss, loving the pain and pleasure from his tongue, feeling how eagerly he is sucking on your nipple. Like he is trying to feed from you. His cock twitches against your palm and you curl your fingers around him through the material. “Fuck baby, you’re hung.”

He grins against your breast, pulling back after a moment to look at you, “oh I know.” He winks and shifts to kneel down, hooking his fingers in your shorts. He pulls them down and groans at the sight of your lack of underwear and the curls at the apex of your thighs. “Shit, you’re gorgeous.” Helping you step out of the shorts, he kisses your thighs before he stands up, “want you spread out on my bed.”

Rushing over to the bed, you lay down and spread your legs wide to let him see your already wet cunt. “Strip for me, Dieter.” You demand, loving the idea of watching him take off his clothes. “I want to see you.”

Dieter nods, shuffling back to pull his shirt off and he shoves his sweats down, exposing his thick cock, bobbing with heaviness and a bead of precum threatening to fall off of the tip. He’s cut and just long enough that you know you will feel him in your gut without it hurting. “Like the movie?” He teases, standing there in a pose.

You grin at the cockiness of the stance and have to admit he has a reason to be cocky. “I don’t know.” You tease, tilting your head. “It looks like you’re bigger than the cock in the movie.”

Dieter chuckles and winks at you, “glad to hear it. It’s yours baby.” He tells you as he kneels on the bed and he shifts into his stomach, kissing along your calf. He licks the space behind your knee as he shifts further up your body until he is sliding his tongue between your folds.

The gasp you give out is loud, even to your own ears. It’s been a long time since someone has licked your pussy and Dieter is unusually enthusiastic about it. Most men were very humdrum about it, viewing it as a chore or something to complete as quickly as possible. Not him, he spreads your legs wide and seems to settle down to explore with his tongue.

Dieter groans at the taste of you, his tongue diving deep and his fingers dig into your thighs as he pushes them back so he can get even deeper inside of you. He loves eating pussy, one of his favorite pastimes if he’s honest, and he flicks his tongue over your clit.

“Oh fuck.” Your eyes flutter closed as you try to ground yourself. You hadn’t expected this but you aren’t complaining. Not at all. Reaching down, your fingers tangle through his curls and fisting into his hair. “Oh fuck baby, it’s so good.”

Groaning when you tug on his hair, making him nuzzle his face further into your cunt, and he sucks on your clit…hard. His hands slide under your ass, tilting your hips more so he can slide his tongue deeper inside of you, his nose pressed against your clit.

“Shit.” Your choked out cry is nearly strangled. You’ve never had a man who wanted to push his tongue inside you. Always saying that your clit it where he needed to be. “Oh dear God, how - how do you not do porn? You should.”

Dieter chuckles, pulling back for a moment to look up at you. “I nearly did before I got my big break as an adult. Nearly needed the money.” He spits, letting his saliva dribble onto your clit, and he lathes his tongue over your folds to spread his spit. He is desperate for you to cum, wanting you to moan his name loud and clear as he pushes his tongue back inside of you.

Shuddering at the fact that Dieter just spit on your cunt, you bite your lip and your hips jerk down roughly. You’re a little desperate at the way his tongue is curling and twisting inside you. “Fuck, oh fuck.” Your fingers tug on his hair as the knot of pleasure pulls tight inside you. “I’m gonna cum baby. Oh fuuuuuuuck!” You squeal, overwhelmed with how quickly it slams into you.

Dieter keeps his tongue buried deep as you clamp down around it, soaking his mouth and chin with your cum. He fucking loves it, lapping deep for get every drop while his nose continues to press against your clit. He works you through it, wanting to prolong your orgasm despite his cock throbbing and trapped against the mattress.

It seems to drag out forever. Wave after wave of pleasure making your thighs shake around his ears. Pressing them tight against his head until his groan vibrates through you.

Dieter works you through it, moaning when you tug on his hair to pull him away when it gets too much, and he kisses your clit one last time before he shifts to kiss your thighs as you relax them. “Can I fuck you?” He asks, needing to be inside of you. He is aching, leaking onto his sheets as he waits for you to tell him he can slide inside of you.

You nod, blissed out and you frown slightly when you remember one very important thing. “I- we need a condom.” You don’t trust anyone without a condom, the fact that you take birth control is not even factored in. It’s more about sexual health and preventing any STDs. 

Dieter nods. “I have one.” That makes you feel better because you didn’t bring any despite wondering if you should. You honestly hadn’t anticipated sleeping with him so you had left them at home.

Dieter shifts to hover over you, reaching into his nightstand to grab a condom, and he leans back on his haunches while he opens the foil packet and rolls the rubber down his cock. He pumps himself a few times, looking down at you. “Fuck, you’re so gorgeous.” He murmurs, caressing your thigh with his other hand. 

“Fuck me.” You beg and he smirks, shifting to notch his cock at your entrance. Slowly pushing into you, he groans at the way your walls are already squeezing him.

Your mouth opens on a long moan, head tilting back as he fills you. So much thicker and deeper than his tongue, you love that he is slowly sliding into you inch by inch until his pubic hair is grinding against your clit.

“Shit baby. You feel - shit you’re so tight.” Dieter hisses through his teeth, unable to believe how good you feel around him, squeezing him. He swallows harshly before he leans down to press his lips to yours, his tongue sliding against yours when he begins to rock his hips.

Caressing his shoulder, you kiss him back eagerly, lifting a leg and wrapping it around his hip. Opening yourself up even more so he can work his way deeper into your cunt. “It’s- it’s because you have such a big- big dick.” You whimper, biting his chin when you pull away to speak.

Dieter grins, waggling his eyebrows as he looks down at you. “Glad you approve, baby girl.” He pecks your lips, pushing deep with slow, precise thrusts that make you give him the sweetest moans. He’s in no rush despite how horny he’s been for you, but he doesn’t want to rush this. He wants you to cum a couple of times before he does.

The rhythm is easy, no punishing pace that has you struggling to keep up. His strokes are sure and deep, but he isn’t chasing his own orgasm. Another surprise that has you rocking your hips up, enjoying the drag of his length against your walls and his lips against yours.

His hands squeeze your tits and he pinches your nipples, loving the way you gasp against his chin. “So fucking beautiful, wifey.” He teases, nipping your jaw and he kisses down your neck. Licking and sucking until he is taking your nipple into his mouth, biting down.

Walls clenching down around him, you moan again. Loving that he’s paying attention to your tits and mixing pain and pleasure together. He sucks harshly again and you hum. “Only for you honey.” You promise, playing along. “Need you to make me cum like only you can.”

Dieter loves how you play along, making him shudder as he rocks into you and he kisses along your sternum until he can press his lips to yours once more. He tilts his hips, trying to find the perfect spot to make you squeal.

Everything thrust pushes you up the bed slightly, making you bite your lip until that certain spot is hit with devastating accuracy. Making you cry out and sob his name when he pushes against it again.

“There it is.” He drawls, smiling as he focuses to hit that spot again. Your hand pressed against the headboard to stop your head from hitting it, and Dieter grabs your waist to keep you still. On his knees, he puts his force behind his thrusts as he focuses on that spot, needing you to cum for him.

Your other leg wraps around him and your hips and ass are lifted up off the bed as he fucks you. Every slam of his hips making you cry out, toes curling behind his back. It feels like he’s hammering into you with a battering ram and you fucking love it, your nails dragging down his arms and leaving red welts. “Fuck!” You squeal, body locking up and your vision going blurry as you soak him in your pleasure.

The way you clamp down on his cock has him groaning your name but he doesn’t cum. He grunts, caressing your hips, and he works you through it, not relenting his pace as he pushes you through it onto another orgasm. He is desperate to feel you cum again, desperate to make you stay here in his bed. “Shit. So fucking tight.” He hisses, working you through it.

His name becomes like a chant, a prayer dripping from your lips while his cock drills into you again and again. You hadn’t expected his stamina to last but you are thanking God or whoever is out there that it does. It’s wet, squelching, and you would be embarrassed of the fact that your pussy is being audaciously loud except for the fact that Dieter is loving it. Groaning and hissing as he rocks above you, saying ‘yes’ every time he hears it.

Dieter hisses, jaw clenched and he pulls out of you, making you whine. He flips you onto your stomach, straddling your thighs and he grips his wet cock, pushing back into you from behind and his eyes roll into his head at how tight you feel around him.

“That’s it. That’s fucking it, baby.” He groans, loving the way you cry out beneath him. He rocks into you, sweat beading on his forehead as he works himself deep into your cunt, hitting that spot over and over again. “Such a good girl. So good for me. Wifey. My wifey gripping my fucking cock. Want her to cum again.” He smacks your ass, squeezing it before he smacks it again.

You whine, trying to push back against him. You know that he’s wearing a condom, you watched him roll it on, but you pretend he’s not wearing it. “Fill me up, baby.” You beg hun. “Want to feel it. Want my hubby to- to fill me up.” You don’t know if he would like that, but you’ll see.

Your words make Dieter whine but he desperately wants you to cum one more time. “Shit. You want me to paint your tight walls? Fill you up with my cum?” He plays along, “knock my wifey up?” He has always had a little breeding kink but he’s always been worried that one woman would take it seriously and he’d have a love child. He’s always been so careful but you make him want to throw everything out the window.

“Fuck yes!” Your own breeding kink roars to life. Any boyfriends you had thought it was weird since you didn’t actually want to get pregnant. They didn’t understand that the idea was hot, but you didn’t want kids with them. This was safe. “God Dieter, put your baby in me. Fuck, please, please, I want it.”

He growls, loving how you feed into his kink with your own desires. “Gonna do it. Just need you to cum. Cum for your husband. Cum for me and I’ll fill you up.” He promises, rocking into you hard and fast and he smacks your ass before he shoves his hand beneath you to rub your clit.

That rub against your clit pushes you over the edge. Turning your head, you press your mouth to his sheets and muffle your cry, even then it’s loud. Walls locking down around him and another hot rush of your cum coating him while every nerve in your body lights up and explodes in pleasure.

The way you clamp down on him has him wishing he could feel how wet you are as you cum but he is soon focusing on his own orgasm. He groans, rocking a few times into you, and he hisses, “gonna cum. Gonna fill you up. Gonna knock you up.” He moans your name as he stills, burying his cock deep inside of you and filling the condom with his seed.

You whine when you feel him push deep, throbbing inside you although you don’t get the warmth that you would if he was actually filling you up. This is as good as it will get and it’s for the best. “So good baby, it’s so good.” Your eyes flutter closer and you smile when you lay your cheek against the sheet. “Fill me up, baby. Put that baby in my belly.”

Dieter pants, shifting so his body covers yours, and he groans your name as he twitches inside of you. “Fuck. You’re so good.” He groans, kissing your neck as he relaxes over you, keeping you pressed into the mattress.

“Hmmm.” You smile lazily, not minding the weight of him on top of you as you catch your breath. “I think I should be saying that to you.” You praise him. “Don’t think I’ve cum that many times in one go in a long time.”

Dieter grins, proud to hear you say that. “Gotta take care of my wifey.” He pulls out of you, gripping the condom, and he quickly removes it, tying it off and tossing it onto the nightstand before he lays down beside you, looking at your beautiful, blissed out face. He grins, happy to have this moment with you. “This is the best Christmas Eve I’ve ever had.”

You send him a smile with your eyes cracked open. His fingers stroke up and down your spine and you are about to start purring like a cat. “I’m glad honey.” You honestly are. “I am having a great time too.”

Dieter smiles, continuing to caress your spine, and when you hum and snuggle closer to him, he kisses you. Slow and soft, unhurried and he just enjoys being beside you. He is soon falling asleep - always does after an orgasm - and keeps you in his arms until after the clock strikes midnight. "Merry Christmas." You whisper to a sleeping Dieter.

****

Waking before he does, you slip silently out of the bed. Needing to pee but you don’t go to his bathroom, instead you make your way down to the guest bedroom you hadn’t slept in to do that and wrap his present before throwing on some clothes so you can get started cleaning up the kitchen from the night before and start making breakfast for you and Dieter.

Dieter wakes up to the scent of bacon and he groans, patting the bed but the spot you occupied is cold. He grunts and opens one eye, realizing it’s Christmas morning. “It’s Christmas.” He whispers to himself with excitement, looking forward to giving you the gift he had his assistant buy for you. He had picked it out, of course. After peeing and brushing his teeth, he pulls on a pair of boxers and makes his way into the kitchen to find you cooking. “Morning wifey.” He coos, stepping behind you to kiss your neck, “merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, honey.” You turn in his arms and kiss his lips before you turn back towards the bacon so it doesn’t burn. “I hope you don’t mind, I wanted to cook you breakfast so we could eat it in front of the Christmas tree.”

Dieter caresses your hips, “mind? Baby, it’s perfect.” He promises, kissing your neck when you turn back to the stove. “This is everything I’ve ever dreamed of.” He murmurs, knowing he’s paying you for this but he desperately wants you to be real, this to be real. He sighs, “I have a present for you too.”

“Dieter.” You tut and look over your shoulder to pout at him. “You shouldn’t have gotten me anything.” Even though you have a present for him under the tree, he has done way too much for you already. “I have a present for you too.”

Dieter grins, “you didn’t have to do that baby.” He tuts and kisses your neck again. He steps back away from you and lets you finish cooking while he watches, wanting this situation every weekend. He wants you. “You’re too good to me, baby.” He groans when you set the breakfast down in front of him.

You move back over to his kitchen counter to pour up two cups of coffee. Not sure how he liked his coffee, you had made mocha with some of the peppermint chocolate that you had from baking cookies. You had melted the bits and put it in the sugar and creamer. “I enjoy doing things like that, but you are more than welcome.” You wink and drop a kiss on his lips before you sit down opposite him. “Merry Christmas.” 

Dieter grins as you sit down and he holds his mug up towards you, “Merry Christmas, baby girl.” He winks and takes a sip of the coffee, groaning at the taste. “Shit, you’re too good at treating me.” He gestures to the breakfast and he knows it’s gonna be hard to go back to being alone.

“The day’s not over yet.” You remind him playfully. “We still have dinner tonight, beef wellington of course, and whatever else you want to do.” Most of the Christmasy activities you had managed to get packed into last night, so you could honestly do whatever. You just want him to have the experience he wants, not just for the money now.

Dieter smiles, “that sounds perfect. I want us to have a relaxing day. Maybe we can watch some more movies and…and I wouldn’t mind, uh, having you for dessert at some point today. If you’re not sore.” He adds, not wanting to push you. He only wants you if you want him.

You smirk, the soreness between your thighs just telling you that you had been fucked right the the night before. “Pillow fort on the floor in the movie room?” You ask with a wink. “We could do naked Christmas.”

Dieter smirks back at you, “I like the way you think.” He digs into the breakfast, moaning and groaning at the taste, and he doesn’t speak as he appreciates your cooking. “Best Christmas morning meal ever.” He compliments you when his plate is cleared.

“Thank you.” You don’t know exactly what he normally does for meals, but you just wanted him to enjoy his time and eat well while you are together. It doesn’t hurt that you love his kitchen and would spend all your time in there if you could. “I’m just going to clean this up if you want to get started on setting up the movie room? Then we’ll open presents? Or do you want to do that now?”

“I want to do it now. Leave the dishes. We can get to them later.” He tells you, reaching for your hand. “Get the presents, baby.” He gestures to the two presents under the tree. He can’t wait to give you the present he had purchased for you, excited to see the look on your face when you open it.

“I hope you know you didn’t have to do anything.” You feel bad, especially since he is paying you to be here. Although you think you’re going to tell him not to pay you the other ten thousand. It wouldn’t be right since you’ve slept together. The paper is beautiful and you pick it up and grin at him as you shake it slightly like a child.

Dieter chuckles, watching you as you carefully open the present to reveal the red box inside. “I- I wanted to get you something to remember me after we - after the holiday ends.” He confesses, reluctant to let you go but he knows you wouldn’t want to stay here with him after you get the money. You recognize the red box with gold etching and your hand shakes a little as you open it to reveal the bracelet inside. “I, uh, I had it engraved too.”

“Dieter- it’s too much.” You gasp, fingers brushing over the beautiful bracelet and you look up at him in awe. He can’t return it, it’s custom and you are blown away at the thoughtfulness of the gift. “It’s not.” He insists and you lean forward and press your lips to his. “Put it on me.” You demand, overwhelmed at his generosity.

Grinning, Dieter carefully takes the bracelet and opens it using the screwdriver, fastening it onto your wrist so it can’t be taken off. “It’s yours. No matter what, you are keeping this.” Dieter insists, kissing the back of your hand after the bracelet is secure on your wrist.

“Too kind.” You huff, kissing him again before you pick up the wrapped present you had decided on for him. It’s definitely not near as luxurious as his gift and you wonder if he will be disappointed in it. But what do you get a man who has what Dieter does?

He carefully takes the present, following your example as he carefully opens the paper. He takes the box and opens the lid, eyes widening at the sight of the book. He grins, “A Christmas Carol?” He takes the book out and opens the first page, seeing your writing, and he murmurs as he reads it, “to the best Christmas I’ve ever had with an amazing man.” You signed it and dated it and even though it’s simple, it’s the best thing he’s ever gotten for Christmas. “Thank you so much baby.” He surges forward to press his lips to yours.

You sigh in relief that he does hate it, grinning against his lips. “Now that we’ve opened presents, let’s get ready to spend the rest of the day indulging in whatever we want.” You pull back and give him a dirty wink. “Be a good boy and I’ll even wash the dishes naked.” You tease, unable to resist kissing him again.

His cock twitches at your words and Dieter smirks at you, “oh I can be a good boy, sweetheart.” He chuckles and shifts to sit on the sofa, patting his lap for you to sit with him. “Come on, want a Christmas kiss from my girl.” He tells you, pouting his lips slightly.

There is something inherently vulnerable in the way that Dieter looks at you. Like he is halfway expecting rejection and seems surprised and pleased when you don’t do that. Instead you straddle his waist and grin as you wrap your arms around his neck. “Christmas kiss, huh?” You tease. “I guess it better be good.”

Dieter beams at the way you straddle him and he eagerly presses his lips to yours, his tongue sliding along your bottom lip before his hands squeeze your ass while you leisurely kiss him. There’s no rush, just enjoyment as you relish a Christmas kiss.

Humming, you could live in this kiss. Wanting to just swim in it forever. His earring is stupid and his hair unfairly soft, and you love the dumb tattoos on his arms, even more the ones on his thighs. Today you are going to explore them, do what you want to him this time.

Dieter kisses you several times, his hands rubbing your body, and he is content to just be in this moment with you. He loves how you feel, he loves how you sound, how you taste. Shit. He presses his lips to yours again, wanting to distract himself from his own thoughts.

There’s a change in the way that he kisses you. It becomes a little more desperate, needy and you wonder if he’s thought of something he doesn’t like. Especially the way that he’s not gripping you any tighter or trying to take it farther than the kiss. Instead of pulling away, you sink your fingers into his hair and scratch his scalp. “How about a Christmas soak in a tub before pillow forts and movies?”

“Sounds good baby. I have some bath bombs we can use.” He kisses along your jaw while you scratch his scalp and he groans at the feeling of your nails on his head. He reluctantly pulls back from you, smacking your ass. “Let’s get that bath ready.”

You give a small giggle and shake your head as you stand up. “I hope you have an amazing bathtub.” You grab his hand and help pull him up with a small grunt. “Want to luxuriate in a bath and maybe ride you if you want.”

“Jesus, you know how to spoil me baby.” He chuckles, guiding you into his room and through to the master bathroom so he can get the bath running. After setting the temperature, he searches for the bath bombs and throws a couple in, excited to get in there with you and see you naked again. You lean against the counter and he just stares, thinking that you’re fucking gorgeous.

Smirking, you see the way that his eyes are trailing up and down your body, seeming peering under your pajamas. “Someone wants a little strip show?” You tease, rolling your hips as you reach for the bottom of your shirt to pull it up to just under your breasts.

His eyes widen slightly and he nods, almost fast enough to make himself dizzy. “Please baby. Let me see you. I want to see you.” He is already hardening in his shorts just from the thought of touching you again.

You’ve stripped for exactly one other man. A boyfriend for a year that you found out was seeing your ex-best friend behind your back. You had seen the text messages between them and knew how they viewed you for working in a strip club so you had never done it again. But now, you feel good as you watch him nearly drool as you lift your shirt up to show him one breast.

“Don’t tease.” Dieter whines, “come on baby. Let me see you. Want to suck on your tits. Want to make you cum.” He says, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms while he waits for you to put on a show.

Biting your lip, you chuckle and slowly pull your shirt up over your head and whip it around your hand before you throw it towards Dieter. Cupping your tits and winking at him while you turn around and look over your shoulder, shaking your ass at him.

His chuckle turns into a groan as you put on a show, tossing the shirt he caught down on the counter behind him. “You’re so sexy. I’d say you’ve been wasted as a cocktail waitress but I would be lying because I’m happy only I’ve had the chance to see this, to see you like this.”

“You like this?” You coo, smirking at him and hooking your fingers under your pajamas pants and sashay your hips down and then back up. Teasing as you start to push them down slowly, almost a fraction of an inch at a time.

“Like it? Baby I love it.” Dieter watches you expose your ass to his eager eyes and he fucking loves it. Groaning your name, he watches you visually tease him and he reaches down to squeeze his hard cock through his pants.

It makes you feel incredibly powerful. This man, this Oscar winning actor could have models or starlets in his bed and he wants you, his cock is hard for you. You start twerking slightly as you bend over and let him see more, including where you are already soaked at the thought of fucking him again.

“Fuck.” He hisses, watching you with rapture, and he squeezes himself again, “you’re already wet.” He can’t believe how gorgeous you are, how sexy you are, and you’re wet for him. The bath is nearly run and he reluctantly pushes off of the counter so he can turn off the water, testing it with his hand.

“Of course I am.” You shake your head and pout at him. “You fucked me really good last night. Was it a fluke? Or because you were still a little high?” You notice that his eyes are dilated today and he’s sober. “How will it be today?”

Dieter shakes his head, pulling you close and his hands caress your waist. “I will make you cum. I - I am human so I’m not perfect every time but I’m sober today. I don’t want to be high because - because you alone make me happy. I want to feel you, I want to - to be in this moment with you.” He leans in to kiss your jaw.

“I like that.” You close your eyes and tilt your head back and wrap your arms around him again. “I’ve been enjoying this entire thing. All of it. You’ve been wonderful.”

Dieter kisses along your neck, “this is the best Christmas I’ve ever had. I don’t want you to leave.” He murmurs against your skin, his hands squeezing your ass as he pulls you even closer to his body until his hard cock is pressed into your hip. “Let me fuck you in the bath baby.”

“Un uh.” You shake your head and grin as you bite his chin. “I’m going to fuck you in the bath. Be a good boy and strip off and get in the water. I want to sit on your hard cock.”

Groaning, Dieter nods and shifts to step away from you. Putting on his own show as he reaches for the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head and he tosses it down before shoving his shorts and boxers down in one move, his hard cock bouncing free. “Want you to fuck me.” He says, stepping into the large tub and groaning at the hot water.

Biting your lip, you remember the condom and look around. “Do you have a condom in here, baby?” You wish that you felt comfortable enough to go without, but you don’t know when the last time he got tested was. Especially since this wasn’t a permanent thing.

“Shit. Uh, yeah, in the third drawer down. We don’t have to have sex. I wouldn’t mind just making out if you aren’t comfortable.” He tells you, not wanting you to be pressured if you aren’t comfortable with fucking him in the bath.

“Not comfortable?” You frown, shaking your head and digging through the drawer to find the condoms. “Baby, the only thing that I wish is that you had a recent STD test so I could feel you bare. I want to fuck you and that amazing cock of yours.” It’s a surprising thought for you since you never do unprotected sex, but you want it with him.

Dieter’s eyes widen, “wait. I had one a couple of weeks ago and I haven’t slept with anyone since because I’ve been filming. It’s on my phone.” He completely forgot about it, “we can still use a condom but I did have a test done. Just to assure you I’m clean.”

You bite your lip, gauging his honesty and deciding that you are going to take a risk. “I haven’t - I’m clean. It’s been a long time since I was with someone else.” You promise him. “And I’m on birth control.” You hold the condom up that you found and cock your head slightly. “Do you want to use it, or do you want to risk it? I want to- to risk it.”

Dieter stares at you, surprised that you are completely trusting him. He wouldn’t lie to you but some people would take advantage of your trust. You trust him. He would never betray that. “It’s not a risk when I trust you. I swear I’m clean. Get my phone and I’ll show you but I - I want to feel you. I want to cum inside of you.” The memory of last night with your breeding kink has him twitching under the water.

“I trust you. You’re trusting me too.” You remind him, sure that plenty of beautiful women have told him that they are on birth control and they aren’t, looking for an 18 year payout in child support. You toss the condom down and stride over to the tub to step in and sink down to your knees to straddle him in the large vessel. “You want to fill me up, baby?” You coo. “Plant your baby inside me for Christmas?”

Dieter groans, reaching out to grip your waist, and he loves that you are playing into the kink already. “Absolutely. Fuck, this time next year we could have a kid. You’d be pregnant for most of next year. Round and gorgeous.” He groans, watching your tits as you reach between you to grip his cock. “You need me to stretch that pussy out first?” He asks, caressing your hips.

“No.” You’re a little breathless, imagining that for real even though you know this is just role play. You two are not together and that is way too much responsibility for right now. “I want it to pinch.” You lift your hips up and notch him at your entrance. “I want to feel it sting.”

He hisses at your words, cock twitching in your grip, and he watches your face as you start to sink down onto his cock. “Fuck baby. Your cunt is so tight.” He closes his eyes for just a second before opening them so he can watch you. “Ride my cock. Make me fill you up so it takes.” He orders, his hands squeezing your ass once you’re fully seated on his length.

You whine softly at his words, grinding down and enjoying the way it feels like he’s deep in your guts. “Going to.” You promise, bracing your hands on the sides of the tub as you start to lift yourself off of him. “Gonna cum all over your cock first.”

Dieter groans, leaning forward to take one of your nipples into his mouth with his hands sliding up your back until one hand is squeezing your tit that his mouth isn’t attached to. “Gonna drink milk from these.” He tells you with a groan, “gonna - gonna watch them swell with milk.”

It’s embarrassing how sexy that sounds and you moan loudly. Biting your lip and tangling your fingers into his hair while you start to bounce on his cock. Every time his teeth scrap your nipple, your walls clench around him. “Yeah? You want to- to have me as your milk cow? Have fresh milk from- from the source?”

“Fuckkkkkk yessssss.” He hisses, “want to drink from you. Suck on your tits.” He thrusts up into you, making the water splash and he switches to your other breast, moaning at the feel of your tight cunt around his cock.

“Bad boy.” You gasp out, head tilted back in pleasure. “You- you’re supposed to let me ride you.” You remind him, even though you don’t mind it at all. It’s fun, this teasing and light banter during sex. A complete change up from normal sexual encounters.

Dieter loves you calling him a bad boy. “Damn. I know. I’ll be good.” He promises, “I’ll be a good boy for you, baby.” He vows, keeping his hips still as he kisses along your chest and neck.

You chuckle quietly, loving how desperate he kisses you and how he sounds. The thick drag of his cock inside you feels even better without the protective latex and you gasp loudly when he twitches inside you. “Oh fuck baby, look at that big dick inside me, feels so good. Only you can feel this good inside me. That big dick’s gonna fill me up, huh?”

“Fuck me.” Dieter groans at your dirty words, “fuck you are so good. So damn good to me. Feel incredible. Shit. This tight pussy feels so good without latex. So tight, hot and wet. Unbelievable. So Damn good. Want you to cum for me.”

“I’m going to, baby. Gonna scream so loud that the neighbors will hear.” Water is sloshing onto the floor but you don’t care, chasing that extreme rush that you get when you cum. Lifting yourself up to slam back down on his cock like you are riding a bucking Bronco. “Fuck baby, gonna cum!” You squeal.

Dieter watches you, your tits bouncing, and he is groaning your name. “Do it. Cum for me. Cum for me baby girl.” He demands, reaching between you to rub your clit.

Throwing yourself forward, your lips slot against his desperately while you come apart. Moaning his name against his mouth as your walls clamp down on his cock and the harsh bouncing turns into desperate grinding.

Working you through it with his hand trapped between you, and he kisses you. Tongue sliding against yours and he’s not ready to cum yet. He waits until you have stopped shaking and he caresses your back, “good baby?”

“Yes.” You whisper, closing your eyes and smiling against his lips. “God, I don’t see how you are single.” You are so drunk on pleasure, you don’t even have a filter. “I’d refuse to let go of this if I had it. Not the money or whatever, but the sex. The way you make me feel.”

“Jesus. Me too. You feel so good. How - how are you single? You’re incredible. Perfect fucking wifey. Beautiful, sexy, kind. Cooks - cooks a mean fucking breakfast. Pussy tastes amazing. Jesus, those assholes who couldn’t accept your job are fools. You’re amazing.” He is also drunk on pleasure and he hasn’t even cum yet.

It almost hurts to start moving again, the head of his cock speared up against the most wonderful little spot inside you that there is a rush of liquid coating him when you move. “Shit!” You gasp out, eyes wide and you freeze, sure that he will think you just peed on him.

“Did you - shit - did you just squirt?” He asks, eyes wide and his cock twitches inside of you. “Fuck baby. Tell me.” He demands, his voice raspy as he leans back to look at you.

“I-I-“ you shake your head, unsure of yourself since you’ve never done that before. “I think? I didn’t- I know I didn’t pee.” You promise, feeling your face flame up, despite the fact that he is wide eyed. You aren’t sure of what he will say.

“Fuck thats so hot. Let’s try it again.” He grabs your hips, rocking you in his cock. “Tell me when we find it again.” He orders, thrusting up into you in different angles until you cry out his name.

It’s so sexy that he likes that. “Never- never don’t that before.” You gasp out, clinging to him as he frantically tries to recreate that moment. “Just with you, baby.”

He fucking loves hearing that, keeping his cock pressing against that spot again and again as he rocks you on his cock. “Want you to cum like that again. Want you to soak my cock, squirt on it, want you to squeeze it. Can you do that for me baby?”

“Yes.” You moan, leaning back and whine in pleasure when his tongue slides around your nipple again before he sucks it into his mouth. “Fuck, do anything for you, just keep touching me.”

Dieter doesn’t stop, keeping his tongue on your nipple, flicking over and over again and he thrusts up into you, desperate for you to cum again, to squirt again.

When he hits that spot again, the twist of pleasure makes you scream. Soaking him again while your thighs spasm around his hips and your walls squeeze his cock so hard you swear your will hurt him.

Groaning as you squeeze his cock hard, soaking him, and he throws his head back at the way you grip his cock. “Holy fucking shit. That’s so hot.” He gasps out, rocking up into you as much as he can and he hisses as he cums, unable to stop himself as he fills you up with his seed.

Now you feel it. The flood of warmth from his cum filling you and making you whine as he pumps you full. “Oh fuck, oh fuck Dieter.” You stroke his chest and collapse against it, kissing his neck softly.

“God, I hope it takes.” Dieter murmurs, stroking your back as you lean against him. His cock twitches inside of you as he rides out his orgasm, lost in the haze of pleasure as you slump against him. “Fuck, I want it to take.”

It’s just role play. You remind yourself of that as you kiss his jaw up to his lips again. He is just feeding into the fantasy of this weekend. Sighing softly, you smirk as you lean back. “That was an even better Christmas present than my bracelet.”

Dieter chuckles, “yeah? My cock beats a Cartier bracelet?” He is pleased and amused to hear that. “You being here is the best Christmas present I’ve ever had.” He tells you, swallowing harshly and he dreads the moment you leave his house. He doesn’t care about the money, he cares about being alone again, about being lonely without you here. “Stay. Stay until the new year. I’ll triple the money.” He offers.

Your eyes nearly pop out of your head, they get so wide and you immediately shake your head. “No- Dieter, I can’t- holy shit.” You whisper. “I can’t take sixty thousand dollars from you.” You blow out a small sigh. “I- I can’t even take the other ten thousand.”

Dieter frowns, leaning back from you. “Why not?” He is hurt, upset that you don’t want to stay with him, even for the money. Have you truly hated being with him? Have you really despised him that much? Are you a better actor than him? All those insecurities threaten to drown him and he pushes you off of him, his cock falling from inside of you. “Fine. You don’t have to stay. You can leave now if you want.” He offers coolly, stepping out of the bath and he doesn’t even grab a towel as he walks into his bedroom to grab some clothes. He needs to get out of here, he can’t be around you if you’re just gonna leave him like everyone else.

You stare at the empty door for a moment, thoroughly confused by what the hell just happened. You were trying to tell him that you didn’t want money for spending time with him. You really loved being with him just because. Confused, you stand up and let the water out of the tub and wrap an oversized towel around your body before you leave to find Dieter.

Dieter is pulling on sweatpants when you enter the bedroom, making him freeze. “I’m going out. You can get your stuff and go. I’ll wire the money. I won’t break my word.” He promises you as he pulls on a t-shirt, his heart breaking that you want to leave.

“Dieter stop, please stop.” You reach out and touch his arm but he just jerks away from you like you disgust him. “Fine.” He obviously doesn’t want to talk. “I’ll leave, but I don’t want your fucking money.” You spit. “I’m going to wire the ten thousand back to you. I’ve done nothing to deserve it. Especially when I’ve loved every second of being here.” You turn around and walk out of his bedroom, biting your lip to keep from crying as you hurry down to the room he had set up for you.

Dieter pauses when you hurry down the hall and he frowns, wondering what you mean by that. Wanting to find out, he stomps down the hall and slams your door open. “What the fuck do you mean? You hated being here? That’s why you won’t stay, why you won’t take the money.” He explains what he is thinking and he hates how his eyes prick with tears of betrayal.

“What?” You’ve managed to get your leggings and bra on, tears on your cheeks obvious and you shake your head. “What are you talking about? I can’t take your money because it would be wrong. I am not letting you pay me sixty thousand dollars for doing something I would do for free.”

“Why the fuck would you do it for free? No one wants to be around me for nothing. No one wants me for me. I know it’s the money. Everyone wants a piece of me. I want to pay you to spend time with me. I don’t want you to leave. No one has ever made me feel like you do. I don’t even want you to go but I know you’ll get tired of me like everyone else does.” Dieter rages.

Your heart completely breaks for him, the defiant and confused expression on his face reminds you of a puppy who is left behind at a kennel, overlooked by potential families. Fuck, you always said you wouldn’t take on a fix’er upper and here you are. You shake your head and take a step closer, “Dieter, I don’t want your money. I promise you. I don’t want a piece of you, I just want to spend time with you.”

“Why?” Dieter chokes, a tear escaping his eye and he stubbornly wipes the tear from his cheek. “Why would - no one wants to just spend time with me. I’m not easy to deal with.”

“No you’re not.” You scoff. “You have not been rude or demanding once. You’ve asked permission to do anything and you are so grateful for anything that I do for you. That’s not difficult.” You step up to him and caress his cheek. “Could you be difficult? Sure, but so can I. I think you being in that club was the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time.”

Dieter melts under your touch, “are you - seriously?” He asks and you nod, smiling at you. “I think you’re the best thing that’s happened to me in - in my entire life. I don’t want to give you up. I know you’re not mine but I want to see what happens. I just - you’re so beautiful and kind and you make me feel like a normal person, you make me feel like a normal man, not just an actor. I could easily fall in love with you.”

“Dieter, I wasn’t telling you that I didn’t want to stay.” You promise him. “I just don’t want you to pay me. I’ll stay here with you until the New Year like you want. I have to work but I will come back here after? If that’s okay?”

Dieter reaches out to cup your cheeks, “you want to stay?” He asks and you nod. He grins, unable to believe that you want to stay with him. “I don’t want you to go. You can work - I wouldn’t stop that - but I don’t want you to leave me. I don’t mind paying you but I want you to know that I haven’t felt like this before.”

“Are you- are you asking me to move in?” You ask, confused by what exactly he is wanting. Does he want you to stay for another week or forever? “I just want you to clarify.”

Dieter is confused by his own feelings, knowing that he is asking a lot of you. “I want you to stay until the New Year and if you want to stay, I’d like you to move in. I - I want to explore this - us - without the outside world ruining it. My fans, the internet…I want us to figure it out before I expose you to that bullshit. I think I could fall for you so stay…don’t go.” He pleads.

You bite your lip, frowning slightly. “You know that it will come out that I am a cocktail waitress at a strip club.” You feel that it’s only right to warn him but Dieter just scoffs and rolls his eyes. 

“Yeah and I’ll tell them that’s where I met you.” 

You don’t know if you would want him to do that, but you do want to stay. “I’ll stay. We’ll figure out what we want to do. Together.”

Dieter surges forward to press his lips to yours, so pleased you are staying until the new year and you’re going to stay so you can figure out what you feel for each other. “Together.” He murmurs against your mouth. “Merry Christmas baby.” He sighs, pulling you close and he knows this has been the best Christmas he’s ever had. He knows that he’ll likely be in love with you by the new year and he desperately wants you to stay with him, be in his life. 

“Merry Christmas.” You tell him and he smiles, “best Christmas ever.”

#pedro pascal #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo smut #dieter bravo imagine #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo the bubble

[moinsbienquekaworu]

What the Cut is ten years old SLG is eleven years old I graduated high school I feel ancient and I'm atrociously young time has no meaning

#what the cut and salut les geeks being two french comedic video review shows #by antoine daniel and mathieu sommet respectively #my whole childhood! #i watched those i was in middle school and i didn't get any of their references because i was 11 #god i miss being 11 and thinking the old slg were the oinnacle of humour #where has my patron fangirling gone... #WAIT should i tag those is there a slg/wtc community here? #okay there ARE tags for those but they're deader than dead #but still! #salut les geeks #what the cut #also links but links still does videos he feels less old internet #minute papillon too! and jdg oh god #the other day i mentioned i started an activity in 2011 and a kid said 'oh that's my birth year!' #i felt. so ancient. i'm not even old. i'm YOUNG! and i felt so old.

[imaginaryhuman]

Insecurities, Fortitude and the Unfortunate Phenomenon of Gatekeeping

Note:

1. I'm trying to not be afraid of my own opinions (this will probably get a different word wall)

2. This isn't a hot take or a "permanent opinion". It's just...current. I think opinions fit a dynamic mold. Or I think it should since circumstances change and experiences can change thought processes.

3. My initial draft for this was a lot more aggressive and angry. When I started writing, I thought I would only tackle the one thing I was very familiar with (insecurities), then I read an article that miffed me a bit because of the gatekeeping vibes, and for a while, I was angry about it but then I realized how common it was. I've heard it from my brothers, I've experienced it with fandoms, with books, with cooking, and with running. There's even a subreddit for it! 👀

It's not like I'd wake up one day and it will be gone. Still, it does push me a few steps back when it comes to conquering slight misanthropy. But it matters to me to say this cause I grew up seeing myself as some last draw.

_____________________________________________________________

"I feel most responsible for myself when I'm insecure" I've wanted to expound on this for a while so here goes:

I've grown to have an intimate (and rather painful) relationship with insecurities. I was a sickly child so I would be in and out of hospitals so frequently that establishing young friendships didn't come easy. Some kids didn't take kindly to impermanence too and it's not anyone's fault. It just happened to be that way. Growing up, I came to realize that I wasn't exactly great at anything. Had I not been exposed to extraordinary minds, maybe I would have come to terms with it much kindly except I wasn't. I always thought that people around me were brilliant, smart, and talented (until now). To the point where I felt the need to alienate myself from it all so I could remain in the forefront of my own mind.

Comparisons come naturally but having them weigh on you is a different ball game altogether. Learning ways out of it is always challenging because insecurities aren't just a singular form of monster-- Sometimes it's about the future, sometimes it's body image, sometimes it's the gripping idea of not being enough for anything you love and it's all so cursed and horrible.

There was that time when more things were piled up on the mental shelving. I was talking shit about someone. Sure, people do it all the time but I think that time I was... viciously and purposelessly nitpicking. Everything I could say about that person, I said it. Totally not proud of that moment and a friend thought so too! First, they told me to shut the fuck up. Just like that, really. Next is they pointed it out. As in told me "V, you have a problem and it's really fine being a total hater but you're not usually like this with other things you dislike. What's wrong?" and then we EXPLORED. Doing this can be so cringe a lot of times but hey, we face the music in this club! I was happy to not be thinking about it alone and the experience made me learn a new way of confronting things and issues that make me feel insecure.

We talked about the whats, whys, and hows of being one hell of a hater and how even if certain reasons are justified. Like, okay, someone did something bad to you and you hate them for it? That's totally valid. Do you find certain traits a bit off your tastes? that's valid too! But even if they are valid feelings, most of the time it's not enough to justify certain actions. The thing is, we don't really have the right to be so up in someone's business about every little thing they do. It's frustrating and I feel like a hypocrite saying this sometimes because I have the obsessive compulsion to keep everyone at arm's length but I feel like there's a parameter where peoples' businesses either become something welcome or becomes a blip on a radar that I'd aggressively shoot down. Although I know that my radar can get too wide and that I need some willpower to hold back snark and suspicion. What can I say, I'm weak to any notions of ill-intent (a byproduct of assault).

But fortitude would sometimes come from borrowed words:

"Don't deny yourself what you think but don't do yourself a disservice by not figuring out what it really is about"

I was told then. To be truthful but exercise tact (I'm neither tactful, clever nor silent hence the trouble that follows) and to be mindful of the undercurrents of my thoughts. I think it's important to take a step back and at least ask yourself the most honest and genuine whys.

Insecurity has a bad rep and is too often used derogatorily for something so common and rather natural. But I feel that ultimately, insecurity stems from an understanding of what you don't have and the frustration of having aspirations. Having aspirations being a good thing but the frustration makes us people act up in so many different ways. For me, insecurities have primarily manifested themselves through the urge to just hide everything that makes me happy because I couldn't (and it's still hard to) stand digs at the things I do to keep me sane. Plus I've always thought them (happy things) few and temporary so that's that. Younger me was weird about it omg.

The rule in this house now though is to express what makes me happy and I think I've saved up a bit of grit to not allow myself to be gatekept (by others and by myself**) from those happy things! I love a lot of things (baking, running, reading, pets, anime & manga, drawing...) and the gatekeeping going on with all those? Surprisingly plenty! A totally different word block (that I won't write because I think this has to be put to rest here), really, and also a total nightmare. But how it applies in the realm of insecurities is... Oh, boi. Ignore it-- it's just bad news as it is strong fuel to a fire you don't want to keep going. If you love doing what you do and you're not hurting anyone then just keep going. I know for a fact that the things I love doing are loved by many others too because running? Creating things? Reading? These are things worth loving without it having to be a competitive chore (If you wanna challenge goals though then hey! Good on you! YOU CAN DO IT!)

Draw your lines, plan your layering in a way that fits your style. Use the tools that work for you. Put on your shoes and get going. I'm only particular with speed because I want to get better (and lol I am not fast) but just being out there and moving? That's already running. Fail some recipes or nail em, whatever happens, just try. Fangirl over what you wanna fangirl about! Post it on your IG and all your other socials. A rather horrifying realization is that no matter what you do, someone's gonna take a dunk at ya. Worse, you can be intentionally approached and engaged for that purpose primarily. It's okay (not really but... if it happens, it happens ). Even if you're used to it, it will still get to you but maybe less and less through time. When the voice of apprehension guides you to retaliate in the most painful way you know, just keep the fear at bay and be strong to not let that urge take over your words and actions. Be frustrated! It's fine! And I really don't support self-harm so please don't misunderstand when I say that when it comes to fear and insecurity, there's a lot you have to take on yourself so you don't hurt others. A lot to unpack between you and your brain. There are people who can love you without patronizing you and those you can trust to reign you in when you lose better judgment. Be honest and let them in.

Have that conversation.

//

Extras:

- AH! But I got to say this cause I also saw a post that said "if you haven't ran 50 to 100 miles, you don't know what a hard run is" wow. Fuck that guy. Actually, don't. He's probably not a fun date.

- this: "you can be intentionally approached and engaged for that purpose primarily" is from experience. An extra worse thing is to be vilified for retaliating. Like...was I just supposed to sit there and take it?

- I used to not like motivational quotes! I mean, I'm alright with them now for sure! We were talking about them and I was asked "What's wrong with properly credited borrowed words? You use them all the time since you like referencing songs." and it was like a tunnel of light appeared before me! Sorry for those whose post I've frowned at! I had an angst phase! I am very genuinely sorry 🙏🏻

#personal #self indulgent #insecurities #word wall #writing #opinions and commentary #fuck gatekeeping

[adamdriverwrites]

Carpe Noctem || Part 3

Plot summary: Mob boss’s daughter & bodyguard au ft. Kylo Ren. Based off this plot bunny (x)

Warnings: nothing worth mentioning. So your basic mentions of death, swearing, implications of crime.

Word count: 3888

Pairing: Kylo Ren/Reader

A/N: Here is part 3! Thank you to everyone who commented, I never knew this many people would like my story! I can’t believe the amount of people who have liked and reblogged so thank you so much xxx

Taglist:  @helloimindelaware, @dandydragonz​, @musicalcoffeebean, @driverficarchive, @hazydespair, @maybell88, @bikinibrattoms, @fanfic-fangirl, @stillreadingfantasy​, @0nevergrowoldnevergrowold0, @sarasxe, @um-well,

Masterlist here

You sat in your parked car outside the Supremacy. The facade of the building was seemingly unchanged since you had last seen it all those years ago. It was a large, two story building in a relatively nice neighborhood. Dark stone stretching almost half a block, black windows obscuring a view inside, and a neon red sign with 'The Supremacy' in a cursive font hanging over the door.

It was a long shot coming here, but you were still working up the courage to go to Mallory's apartment. You figured this was a suitable stepping stone. She had mentioned her friend in passing conversations, had apparently worked at the establishment for years. You didn't know what time she worked, day or night, and she probably wasn't even here today but you didn't want to head back home right away. And it was a long shot in which you were wiling to investigate a little further. You had to start somewhere.

There was a lone member of security outside the front doors. Black clothes, tall figure, imposing; completely  the modus operandi of your father's workers. There was no line to get in, not unsurprising given it was mid afternoon on a Friday so you straightened your leather jacket and walked up to the bald, intimidating bouncer.

His eyes looked you up and down, before quirking an eyebrow. "ID?"

You pulled your ID from your pocket, where it was nestled in between your card and your phone and handed it to him without fault. He looked it over, eyes checking the photo matched your profile before he looked back at the driver's license. His brown eyes widened profusely, and he handed it back to you.

"Sorry, Miss Snoke." He stepped the side, an arm outstretched to welcome you into the establishment your father owned. You entered a dark hallway, bass in the music traveling further, blackout curtains separated as you walked through. Your eyes were assaulted by bright, colourful lights. Dancing wildly around the room in perfect time with the music. Four elevated stages, with poles that stretched to the ceiling were placed around the room, seats arranged the stage. Tables were littered in between and a long bar was nestled against the far wall. It was slightly more busy that you thought it would be, your expectations exceeded to see a woman dancing on a stage, six men littered around her in various seats. A few more patrons sat at a table, two women talking to the group, flirting and petting the men in their suits.

You had never actually been in the Supremacy. But it was a classier joint than you extrapolated. Surfaces looked clean, and the air was fresh with a hint of perfume. Black furniture, and red silk curtains hanging from the ceiling provided some tables extravagant privacy on the wall opposite the bar. Large stairs in front of you wound up to the second floor. Another set of double doors were open, revealing a long hallway that disappeared. A glass railing on the second floor surrounded the deck, and you noticed it linked all the way around to a second floor office. The front wall of the office consisted entirely of glass, a suitable viewing precipice for whoever ran this place for your father now.

You spotted a male bartender working, polishing glasses and stocking the bar. A young man, maybe in his late twenties, blonde hair and blue eyes, black uniform t-shirt that simply had 'The Supremacy' in the same font. You walked forward, weaving through the empty tables before you stepped up to the bar. He looked up, smile painted on his previously vacant face, and put down a glass and a polishing rag.

"Welcome!" His eyes raked over your form quickly, and it felt like he was vaguely ogling you. "What's your poison?"

You gave a half assed attempt at a smile, "I'm not here for a drink."

"Hmm," he hummed in interruption, leaning forward on the bar. "A dance? A job, then?"

You bit your lip, "No-"

"I mean, you've got a great body but, darlin’, this is one of the best clubs in town. Girls are dying to dance here."  

You were sick of him interrupting you. Ogling you. You had little patience today, so you decided to tell a half-lie just to shut him up. "I know. My Father owns this place." You had no idea of the waiting list to work here, but you pretended. 

His face stilled and he leaned back slightly. You pulled your ID from your pocket once again and waved it in front of his face for good measure, then placed it back into your jacket. "I want to talk to Lacy. Is she around?"

He reeled, "Look, I didn't mean no disrespect, I had no idea-"

"I don't give a shit." You interrupted him in turn. "It's important, I just want to see Lacy. I don't know her stripper name but I know she works here."

"She's not in, she hasn't been in for a few days, I don't know her work schedule but I can get the manager? He'll know more than me."

You nodded your head. "Okay, sure."

He leaned over, leaning his hand under the bar, he pressed something and his eyes averted up to the office you had spied previously. He withdrew his hand and picked up the glass and rag once more. "He'll be down in a moment. Wait here."

You nodded, and watched as he moved down the bar slightly, back to restocking the glasses on the wall.

You gazed around, music changing as the dancer walked off the stage after collecting her money, another dancer filling her spot. The men didn't move, cigars between their lips and drinks in hand, patiently waiting to get their fill. All men looked successful, and had amber liquid swirling in their glasses. Suits adorned their bodies and shiny watches adorned their wrists. It was easy to assume this was a classy establishment, catering to more high paying clientele.

Which confused you slightly because this business had originally started as a front. It was a way for your father to launder money from his other ventures that were less than legal. Or a way to siphon a small amount anyway - he had a few legitimate businesses for this purpose now but the Supremacy had been one of the first.

Clearly, the Snoke name was still among high standards of rich and elite of New York. Your father had all sorts of friends in all sorts of places, and almost all of them owed him favors. Politicians, lawyers, moguls - clearly they all wanted to be a part of something bigger, something mysterious. The Snoke crime family.

A blur out of the corner of your eye caught your attention. At the top of the stairs you noticed a tall figure in a dark, all black suit. Pale skin, bright red hair, and a caustic confidence you could feel from basically halfway across the room.

Armitage Hux.

You didn't fight the smirk that curved your lips as your eyes locked with his. A chilling smirk mirrored his lips and he made his way down the stairs. Eyes completely focused on you.

You couldn't believe he was still alive - let alone running the fucking Supremacy. His father had been an advisor of your own. A part of a small council that ran the whole operation. Hux had been around when you were a kid, though he was closer to Ares' and Roman's age than yours.  

He had been a smarmy, confident piece of shit growing up. Like a lot of people, he was at your house often. You didn't start getting to know each other until you were a little older, around 12 or 13, before you left for boarding school. You still thought he was a cocky shit, but the two of you had something in common.

A disdain for Lyon.  

He seemed to rub a lot of people the wrong way, though you never seemed to mind him too much. But you were a good judge of character - you knew he was manipulative, cunning, cruel even. But he had always had a good head for business, and was loyal to the Snoke family and the Order. If you knew what you were expecting, then it wasn't that bad.

Hux approached the bar, green eyes piercing as he walked closer. He spoke your name with an almost unbelievable exhale. "I didn't know you were back in town."

"Well, you don't know everything."

"Ah, but I do. That's my expertise." He came to stand in front of you, looking you over before leaning against the bar nonchalantly. He looked exactly the same as you remembered, if only aged slightly, soft wrinkles around his eyes. Otherwise his hair was still perfectly gelled back, not a strand out of place, his clothes still immaculately pressed with his usual stiff and rigid posture.

"Never the less, to what do I owe the pleasure?" His eyes shifted to the bartender behind you and he flicked his finger, his attention returned to you. Pale green eyes absorbing your figure. "Tell me you're here for me." You knew you were rather heavy in the chest area, and had an ass to boot, but you weren't under the allusion you were pretty, or gorgeous by any means. In fact you felt particularly plain enough to go under the radar. Though since being home, you hadn't felt more like the opposite. You figured it was the stark growth spurt you had under gone since you were last back home. Last everyone knew - you were just a teenager. Prepubescent and awkward.

"Not quite," you huffed, "I actually just wanted to talk to Lacy." His head raised slightly, eyebrow cocked before realization dawned on his face but you spoke anyway. "She was friends with Mallory."

"Oh... yes. I'm sorry for your loss, I suppose.” You wanted to smile at his awkwardness before he sighed.  “Your father has been... never mind. You came all the way here just to talk and reminisce with a stripper?"

Again, you felt the instinctual need to lie, but resisted. "I just wanted to hear some things about Mallory's life, since I've been gone so long." It wasn't a lie, technically.

The bartender's presence interrupted your conversation, and he placed two glasses of scotch down on the bar before making himself scarce. You didn't want to drink, though now it was placed in front of you, you wanted to knock the whole thing back.

"Anything for you." An almost evil, calculating smirk curved his lips. "But first, let's catch up in my office. You owe me that much."

"I don't owe you anything."

He hummed out a laugh, signalling something you didn't know to the bartender and gestured up the stairs towards his office. It was a short walk, though his close presence felt behind you made it feel longer than it actually was. You reached his office, and he opened the double doors, allowing you inside before shutting them behind you.

It was a big area, not wide, but particularly long as it recessed into the building. Half of the office was glass, giving a perfect view to the club below. It was dark grey walls with a flourish of a red velvet couch. A desk with a few papers were scattered on it, and you noticed it was devoid of any type of computer. You guessed your father was still paranoid about any digital trails leading to evidence that could prove hurtful.

"Please, take a seat." He gestured to the red velvet seat situated opposite his desk. "It’s been a long time. What have you been up to all these years?"

You walked forward, taking a sip of your drink before collapsing into the comfortable seat, eyes watching Hux as he rounded the desk and followed suit. "Studying..." you shrugged, "working... enjoying life away from my family."

"It would appear so." Hux's eyes flashed with something, and a smirk graced his lips again. "He sent you off to boarding school, you graduated, and never came back. Clearly you were off having fun."

"Fun is for children."

"Which you are not." Again Hux looked over your form.

"You know what he's like, it’s why I didn't come back. Why are you still here?"

"I've worked hard to get where I am today, my loyalty and allegiance to the First Order and the Snoke family-"

"And look what you have to show for it; a strip club?"  You interrupted his tirade. "You've done far more than Lyon has and less to show for it. You respect nepotism?"

His nostrils flared at the mention of your brother and you knew that he was still a sore spot for Armitage. "That is but one instance. Not everyone of import in the Order is of your father's blood."

You nodded, "Phasma?"

"Ren."

It was your turn for your nostrils to flare and you quirked a brow. "My father's bodyguard?"

"That's a simplification. I wish his duties were that insignificant."

"Well they are now."

"What do you mean?"

"He's been tasked as my bodyguard while I'm here."

Hux leaned forward at this, elbows resting on his desk, his interest suddenly focused. "Is that so?"

"Why is that so interesting?" This piqued your curiosity. "What does he do for my father exactly?"

Hux seemed to choose his next words carefully. "Ren is his... fidus Achates, his saboteur, his right hand man."

You got that sense with how often he was in your father's office. He was even in his office when he had kicked Lyon out earlier. If anything that was conducive to the fact that he was more trusted than any other man you knew about in the Order. Even when you were a kid, your father didn't have any men that seemed permanently glued to the shadowy corners of the room.

"Whatever problems your father has, Ren makes them go away."

"So like his hitman?" You ask.

"More like a rabid animal." Hux spat the words, and you gathered there was a little contempt from the red headed man. "Kept on leash by only your father and let loose whenever he pleases. You thought he was ruthless before you left? Well, Ren is solving every problem with bloodshed and violence."

"Unnecessarily?" You sipped your drink, leaning back into your seat.

"No, your father points his finger, and Ren takes care of the rest... destroys everything in his path."    

Your eyebrows furrowed slightly. "If he’s so important why would my Dad assign him to me?"

This made Hux smirk. "Precisely."

You had your perceptions about Armitage, you had known him since you were young. While you didn't trust him exactly, you trusted that you knew him well enough to talk about Mallory.

"He thinks something happened to Mallory."

"I know." Hux sipped the amber liquid. "We've talked about it. While Ren handles the... messier assignments, my strength is acquiring knowledge and intel."

"And what have you found out?"

"Nothing." He didn't look like he was lying, not that you were sure what that even looked like. "Not yet, anyway. Is that why you're here?"

You sipped your drink again, if only to stall time before you answered. "I just wanted to talk to Lacy, but yes."

"And now look at you, talking to me. Isn't this so much better?"

Your mind couldn't help but wander, back to Kylo. So much mystery surrounded him, leaving you in the dark and Hux was finally providing a little light on the situation. And he seemed rather accepting to share. You made a mental note to think of some questions to ask him, hoping that he would give some truthful answers.  

About to open your mouth, you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket, and you pulled it out of your pocket to see a message from your father. And two missed calls.

Where are you? We're having an early dinner. Just family.

You withheld a sigh that wanted to escape, and you looked back to your company. "I've got to go." You threw back the rest of your whiskey and put it on his desk before standing up.

"So soon?" Hux mirrored your movements. "You just got here."

"I'll see you soon."

He grabbed a pen and paper off his desk, handing it to you. "write down your number, when Lacy comes in I'll let you know."

You wanted to question his helpfulness but decided against it. Feverishly writing down your digits and handing it back to him instead. "Thanks, Hux."

"Of course."

Leaving the Supremacy left you feeling a little defeated. Even though Hux said he would text you when Lacy was next in, it meant today had come to a standstill, stagnant in your search for information. Your next plan was to head to the penthouse, see what possessions of Mallory's was still around, however, your fathers text had brought that idea to a standstill. Maybe you could go later tonight, when everything had calmed down? Jumping back into your car, you sent a quick reply to your Dad

Just at the store getting tampons, leaving now.

You hoped he was grossed out enough by a woman’s basic bodily functions to not want to reply. Starting your car, the V8 grumbling loudly. You pulled from the curb and headed to the direction of your house.

Seeing Hux again after so many years was a refreshing change of pace. He acted the same as he did all those years ago and looked the same too, save for a few wrinkles displaying the passage of time. The two of you catching up was good, and he had divulged some impertinent information regarding your new ‘bodyguard’ that proved fruitful. You hoped next time he would be even more forthcoming.

The drive home was shorter than you expected, just less than an hour. Traffic was light, and you were pulling into the Snoke driveway before you knew it. You wished it had dragged on longer, you half preferred sitting in your car than going inside to drink and eat with your family. You hadn't shed a single tear at the funeral earlier today, and you expected the strong facade you had adapted was going to falter.

As you drove down the long winding driveway, rounding the towering willow trees either side you came into view of the house, and then the garage. The electronic door at the very end already open, you didn’t have time to be confused as a tall, dark form came into view.

Kylo.

He was standing in your spot, a cigarette dangling between his fingers as his dark eyes stared at you. His stoic form didn't move until you came forward, moving so you could park your car in the area he had occupied. You killed the engine once you parked and didn't have time to open your door before he had done it for you.

"Welcome home." You grabbed your belongings from the seat beside you and looked up at the man standing over you.  Once you were clear, he shut the drivers side door, and blocked the way to inside the house. You tried to maneuver around him but he moved to defer you.

This caused you to sigh. Your eyes darted up to meet his.

"Yes?"

"Your father’s been worried."

You rolled your eyes. "I was gone for a few hours, so that's his problem."

"And his problems become my own." He stepped forward, the small distance between you became even smaller. "If you don't want me to come with you then you at least need to tell me where you're going."

It was obvious now what he was getting at. Your little field trip to go see Hux had apparently not gone unnoticed. Or, well, to the store to get tampons if your message was to be believed. You didn't think your father was going to be enforcing the whole bodyguard thing so intensely, or so quickly. Though an idea came to mind.

"You seem like a moderately intelligent guy..." Your eyes looked over his form. "Built for brute force rather than a boring protective detail of the little old likes of me." His full, pink lips encompassed the cigarette to take a puff and it almost momentarily made you falter. His hum pulled you from your thoughts of what they could have felt like and you continued. "I have a proposition for you."

"And what would that be?"

"Surely you have more important things to deal with. Which is why, if you want to do your own thing while I do my own, that's totally understandable - in fact, its actually preferable." For the first time since you've been home you tried to plaster a welcoming smile on your face. Trying hard to seem like a demure little girl your Dad had painted you to be.

Kylo expelled a huff of breath, something akin to a laugh. Your smile faltered slightly at the thought of him laughing at you.

"Your father relies on my ability to perfectly..." he searched for the proper words, throwing his cigarette over your shoulder onto the concrete behind you. "execute whatever he asks of me."  

"And you can do that, really make a difference!" It was hard to try appear as chipper as you were. Manipulation was a hard game, and you were not a happy person. "Instead of following me to the mall, or to see my friends while I'm here, you can strive to make my Dad proud."

You weren't much of a shopper, and you had no friends here to speak of. It was a low shot, but you hoped by his assumptions on your gender and what most women liked to do, you could get away with the lie.

"Your father informed me of your shrewd capabilities." You didn't know it was possible but he walked forward another step, closing the distance between you two. You had to strain your head to look up at him. He spoke with a deep conviction that conveyed anger being tethered by a small sliver of control. "It's why he chose me for the job. I won't be swayed so easily, especially by a spoiled little princess."

Your smile faltered, and you felt your rage flourish at his words.  Suddenly, you couldn't be bothered with this shit. You would think about it later, when your mind wasn't so clouded with the thought of Mallory. "Good luck." You moved past him, looking over your shoulder as you walked into the door that led to the house, shooting him one last look. "Haven’t you heard? I’m cursed.”

He watched you walk away, exhaling the last cloud of smoke through his nostrils. The door to the garage slammed before he dug his hand deep into the pocket of his pants, pulling out a small gps tracker. Getting down on the floor, he leaned underneath your car by the rear wheel frame. Pulling off the small adhesive backing, he pressed it to the metal where it would be hidden. Flicking the switch to activate, he quickly paired the device to the app on his phone before getting up, and following suit into the Snoke manor. 

#kylo x reader #kylo ren x reader #kylo x you #kylo ren fanfiction #kylo ren au #kylo ren imagine #carpe noctem #adam driver #adam driver x reader

[queenofthefallenangels]

The Demon's Bride

Demon Finn Balor x OC

Rated: M

Warning: smut, daddy kink,angst, and a bit of fluff. 

A/N: This is what I previewed awhile back and I finally finished it. I really hope you enjoy it.

Tag Team: @stayweirdlove @release-your-sweets @biforbecky2belts @sethsevolution @writtingrose @kalliravenne @neversatisfiedgirl @sassymox @i-silver-ninja-posts @writertoo18 @the-beastslayers-queen @baroncorbinsfairytale @tx-fangirl @theworldofotps @demonkingsangel @darktammy @anglophilstymie @instantbouquetdestinysblog @thesimonkshow @courtney6199 @shieldgirl18 @hauntedcloudghostnickel @gayforbecky @ilostmyselfinmake-believe

Humberto lead me to his doorway, "This seems weird. I normally walk the girl home. Are you sure I can't?" He asked.

"Yeah," I  told him. "My roommate hate when I bring dates home."

He nodded in an understanding way. We stood together in the doorway in silence for awhile. "I had a great time." He said breaking the silence.

"I did too." I smiled up at him. He slowly leaned in to kiss me. I felt his soft lips hit mine. It felt amazing. Suddenly, he pulled away and started choking. He was coughing up blood.

"Humberto?" I said shocked backing up. He collapsed to the ground. I kneeled down beside him. I went to feel for his pulse. Nothing.

Snap, went a tree branch behind me. I quickly twirled around. That's when I saw it. A sinister smile standing up on the rooftop. It looked like the cheshire cat smile glowing in the darkness.

A normal person would be terrified. I wasn't though. I knew exactly who that smile belonged to.

"Balor." I hissed underneath my breathe. The smile grew a bit before slowly disappearing into the darkness.

I sighed, looking down at the body on the ground. "He has to ruin everything for me. I am sorry you had to go like that." I said brushing his hair out of his face.

I walked over to a building before creating a doorway to walk through. As I walked in, my outfit changed from my dark ripped jeans, black tank, with a leather jacket, to a simple purple dress that fell to my feet. A simple crown appeared on my head. The room around me also changed from a quiet residential street to an old stone palace.

"Finn Balor," I yelled as soon as I entered the throne room where I saw the demon sat on his throne. I could tell by his face he had been waiting for me. A smile crept on his face as he saw me walk up to him.

"Is that anyway to address your king?" He asked.

I wasn't in the mood to play his games. "Why do you always have to kill them? Humberto did nothing to you."

"He did. You forget, my queen, I not only saw that little kiss he gave you, but what he was thinking about." His eyes were dark.

"It's none of your business what he wants to do with me. You had no right to dig around in his head."

In a blink of an eye, he moved from his throne to right in front of my face. "My dear, Serena, you seem to forget. You are mine for all of eternity." His hand fell under my chin, making me look into his red eyes. "No one else gets to have you." He growled.

I smacked his hand away, "But everyone else can have you. I know you stray away from me. It's a double standard to let me do the same."

Finn pushed me hard against the wall, "You have gotten so mouthy lately. I don't know where this coming from. Or the sudden need to run around in the mortal world with mortal men."

"Maybe you bore me." I told him raising an eyebrow. "I need the help of mortals to get off."

He took me off the wall, only to slam me harder. Anger filling his eyes, "You little liar. There is no one better than me, especially a mortal."

"They do posse something you seem to forget."

"And what would that be?" He asked his head cocked to the side.

"You forget how to make love. To touch me like I am more than a fuck toy. You haven't done that in centuries."

He chuckled softly, "You actually think those dumb mortals love you." He shook his softly

"More than you do."  

"You are still naive as the day, I met you, Serena." He taunted. "You think 500 years in  hell with me would have changed that.

"It has. I am not naive anymore. You ripped that from me when you got my soul and my heart."

"And I made you my queen. You are so ungrateful." Balor tsked at me. "I could have dumped your soul away like the rest of them."

"Sometimes I wish you would have. Those souls have more freedom being thrown away like trash than you give me. I am nothing but a sex slave to you."

"A sex slave who gets to wear the crown. A mortal soul who gets to live forever with one of the most powerful demons in all of hell. How ungrateful are you." He shook his head. With a swoop of his hand he pushed me on my knees. "I think you need a reminder of how lucky you are." He grabbed a chunk of my golden blonde hair. "First you will suck daddy off and than you will spend the night in the dungeon for your disobedience."

As much as I hate this man, I couldn't help feel my desire for him spread when he dominated me. "Yes, master." I said pulling out his thick penis as I pulled it into my mouth. He always tasted amazing. Better than any human could. I almost missed it when I was gone.

He groaned holding me close to him so he could force himself deeper down my throat.

"Such a good girl. You're mouth is still one of the most amazing I have had." He cooed as he thrusted hard. Tears filled my eyes as I gagged on him. He didn't care though. He just kept pushing until he got his release making me swallow every last drop.

"Rollins, get her. Take her down to the dungeon. She is spending the night there." He said throwing me to the side.

Seth, one of the king's hands, helped me up by my arm and lead me down to the dungeon.

The dungeon was dark and wet, and had a horrible smell. It was like the a mix of mold and sweat. My feet were bare against the stone floor. You'd think in hell that the floor would be burning hot, but the stones in the were still ice against my feet.

Seth opened the iron gates and threw me inside locking it behind me. I hit the cold ground with a thud. I glared at him as he walked back out. "I swear he sucks Finn's dick more than I do." I said shaking my head. I sat down in the corner of the cell. This wasn't my first time being sent down here. I had run off to the mortal world before. It was hard not to. I missed the mortal world. Even though, it wasn't anything like I remember and everyone I knew had been dead for years. I knew that was something I would be sacrificing when I gave Balor my soul, but at the time, it didn’t matter to me. I was madly in love with Finn and I thought he loved me too. I began to question if he had ever really loved me or if I had just been a naive. The thought even sounded crazy. A demon falling in love. It felt real back than. The passion he kissed me with was like nothing else. When he asked me to be his forever. I couldn't turn it down. I sold him my soul bonding me to him in hell for all eternity.

I heard an eerie laugh rang through the dungeon. I looked up from where I was sitting to see a body appear with a twisted smile. "What you doing here, princess?" The voice belonged to Bray Wyatt.

"Go away, Bray." I hissed at him. "How are you even down here? I thought the dungeon blocked powers."

With a blink of an eye, he was sitting next to me. He wrapped his arm around me pulling me close. I grimaced slightly. "Weak powers like yours. I, on the other hand, am stronger."

I rolled my eyes, “Well, put your powers to good use and get out of here.” I pushed him off me. He flashed over to the other side of the room leaning against the stone wall.

“Now, what did sweet little Serena do to get herself locked in here? Playing around in the mortal world again?” He patronized me.

“It’s none of your business.”  I snapped at him. “Don’t you have something better to do than bug me.”

He smiled, “Am I getting on someone’s nerves? My, you must have been a bad girl. Messing around with mortals. Why do you mess around with them when there are tons of demons who would love to have a pretty girl like you.” He stalked over by me. He put his fingers underneath my chin lifting me onto my feet by it. "Isn't that why you sold your soul to the demon king himself? To be fucked by a demon."

“I don’t want anyone of you.” I spat. “You guys lack any true emotion like love. I would just be another bang to you. You all just want to fuck me to get something over the king."

Bray laughed softly, "Love is a stupid emotion. Did you honestly think a demon could love?"

I looked down at the floor. "Once upon time."

He shook his head, "such a naive little girl. The demon king has had many queens before you. Most likely he will have many after you." He stated. "Were you really that stupid to think he would only love you for all of eternity? You're time is running short, sweet Serena. He is probably looking for a new bride as we speak."

I felt hot tears burn in my eyelids. I couldn't help myself, but let them fall. "You lie!" Was all I could get out as my sobs began to take over.

"Get out of here before Finn finds you here."

Bray shook his head chuckling softly. "I hope when he gets bored of you, he lets us play with you when he is finished. I can't wait, dear sweet Serena." He said cupping my face in his hand. "I'll be waiting." He said as he slowly disappeared. I dropped to the ground letting my tears fall. I knew about the other queens and how Finn had gotten bored of them. Did I really believe I would be different? I might have lasted the longest, but that meant nothing. Maybe he had already found a new bride to replace me. What if he is just waiting for her to sell her soul than throw me to the dogs like Bray.

I heard footsteps coming near to me. I groaned hoping that it wasn't Bray coming back to mess with my head more. Thankfully, it was Seth.  He opened the iron gates to let me out. "The king would like to speak with you."

I nodded whipping my tears fast before I got off the floor. Seth raised an eyebrow when he noticed, but he didn't say anything. Just gently grabbed my arm leading me backup to the throne room.

"Your queen, your majesty." Seth said bowing to Finn who was sitting on his throne. His black robe draped around his neck. He

Finn looked me up and down as I stood there next to Seth. He nodded slowly, "thank you. Now leave me alone with her. Don't let anyone come in."

Seth nodded quickly leaving the room. I heard the heavy close behind him. I looked back up to Finn just in time for him to gesture me to come towards him. I sighed deeply as I moved towards his throne.

"I can tell you have been crying. Why?" He asked me. A hand reaching out to grab me closer. I pulled my hand away fast causing him to hiss."Still haven't learned your lesson have you? Do I need to have Seth go take you back?" I shook my head fast. "Than answer my question. Why have you been crying? I know it wasn't the dungeon."

I sighed, "I wasn't alone in the dungeon. Bray Wyatt came and visited me in there."

Finn grabbed both my hands pulling me close. "What did he say? Did he touch you?"

"He just told me that when you're done with me, he hopes you let me play with him. He said my time as your queen is almost done."

Finn chuckled slightly, "I would have figured with how you were acting that would be thrilled to be rid of me." He rubbed his thumb across my knuckles. "Be free of this place."

I shook my head, "Not to be thrown to the dogs at least." I sighed. "I still love you, Finn. I just act out cause it doesn't seem like you do anymore. You barely talk to me unless it's for sex. I meant it when I said you treat me like a sex toy. Maybe Bray was right and you are bored of me. Maybe, you found a new queen to take my place and are just waiting for her to sell her soul to you." I could feel tears begin to fall again. I couldn't stop them.

Finn stood up still holding my hands. He sighed looking into my eyes as he let go my hands, cupping his hands around my face. He whipped a few of the stray tears with his thumb. "There is no one else to replace you. You are the only one for me. Trust me, I have tried. You make me so mad sometimes I really do want to feed you to the dogs, but then I can't think of my life without you in it. I try to replace you with other women, but at the end of the day. You are all I want. That's why it makes me so angry when you run off with mortals. I am scared you regret selling your soul to me.”

I shook my head, “Well, sometimes. When you treat me like garbage I do. You make me just as angry.”

His eyes weren’t red this time. I had avoided them the whole conversation, but now I looked into his soft blue eyes. “Bray told me, I was foolish to think that a demon could love me.”

“He is trying to get in your head. He likes to play mind tricks on mortals.” Finn said with a sigh. “He is wrong. I am the foolish one. I have never fallen in love with a mortal til I fell in love with you. I don’t think I was in love with any of my other queens. Them I used as sex toys. Not you. Never you.”

“Why have you been treating me so badly than?”

“Stress? I don’t know. We are at war. Sometimes I don’t want to just sit around and talk. I just want to have sex and get my stress out.” He shrugged. “I am sorry. I truly am. ” He pulled me closer to kiss me. He kissed me softly.  

“A demon saying sorry. I am shocked.” I giggled as I pulled away.”

“Don’t tell anyone. You might ruin my reputation as the king.” He laughed back. “Now,” he said his blue eyes turning darker. “I still haven’t finished your punishment.” He said as pulled the strings on his robe. He let it fall to the floor exposing all, but a small cloth that covered his sex. I bite my lip looking at his body. Even if I have seen it a million times, just the sight of his six pack makes me weak in the knees. He wrapped his arm around my waist pulling me close as the room started to fade and their bedroom started fade in.

I raised my eyebrow. "Didn't you say you were punishing me. Why are we in the bedroom?"

"Oh, I can still punish you here." He said turning me around so my back was to him.. He untied the back of my dress letting it fall to the floor. He kissed my shoulder blades gently as his arms wrapped my waist moving up to my breasts. He twisted her nipples. I moaned leaning my head back onto his chest. He pushed me towards the bed. I fell on my stomach onto the bed.

“Get on your hands and knees.” He commanded. I did as he said. He rubbed my ass gently before he smacked it hard. I yelped grabbing the sheets. He barely gave me time to recover before he smacked it again. He did it til my ass felt numb. He grabbed me by hair pulling me up. He reached around rubbing my clit gently. “Did you learn your lesson about running away from me?”

“Yes,” I moaned out.

He smacked my pussy hard. “What was that?”

I yelped, “Yes, daddy.” I repeated.

“Good girl,” He said rubbing my folds before slipping a finger in. He still held me tight by my hair against his chest. I started to rock my hips on his finger trying to get him to move them faster. He pulled out completely. He whispered into her ear, “Don’t move or else.” He pushed me back down on the bed getting me back on all fours. He rammed his cock deep inside me. He put his hands on hips to get himself to go deeper in me. I screamed in pleasure as I felt him hit my g-spot. With his brutal pace that he had set, I knew it wouldn’t last long.

“Daddy, may I cum?” I asked him as I felt my walls start to close around him.

“Since you asked nicely. I will let you cum.” He said reaching over to rub her clit. I screamed as I felt an orgasm wash over me.

He flipped me over onto my back, hooking my legs around his waist. He pushed back into me and began moving at a slower pace. I moaned closing my eyes a bit. He bit my neck making my eyes open fast. “Don’t close your eyes. Look at me, baby doll. You wanted me to make love to you and now you got it.” I nodded quickly meeting his eyes. He began to pick up the pace moving back to a faster and harder pace.

“I am going to fill you up, baby. Fill you up full of my cum.”

"Please, daddy, please fill me up." I begged. His movements become sloppy as he started to cum inside me. My second orgasm started causing my legs to shake. I moved my hips a bit as a I rode it out. Once it was over, he stopped his motions putting my legs down. He collapsed next to me on the bed.

He pulled me close to him, "I love you, my queen and you will be mine and only mine for all of eternity." He smiled at me kissing my head. "No one in the world in heaven, hell, or Earth could replace you."

#finn balor fanfiction #finn balor x oc #finn balor smut #finn balor #finn balor imagine #wwe #wwe fanfiction #wwe imagine #wwe smut #stephy masterlist

[dearlazerbunny]

Sugar Sugar (Honey Honey)

Pairings: Haninozuka Mitsukuni x Reader

Genre/Ratings: None/Honey being cute

Words: 4800

Summary: Honey can’t figure out why you won’t eat the cake he gives you

This took me way too freaking long to write??? Pardon me while I have an existential crisis over whether or not I’m losing my touch

“Hi guys!” You bounce your way into Music Room 3, happy for the school day to be over and ready for some downtime with your favorite club. “What’s new today, King Tamaki?”

The blonde self-proclaimed King of the Host Club gives you a bright smile as you enter. “Well, Princess Y/N, we have a lovely selection of tea imported from the UK just yesterday. Would you care to take a look?”

You giggle to yourself as you take his outstretched hand like some medieval maiden. “But of course, my King,” you say teasingly, knowing full well the boy is aware you don’t fall head over heels for his Prince Charming act that easily. “Please, lead the way.”

You trade news and wave to the other boys as you float through the room. You’re a regular patron, sure, but unlike most of the other girls there you really just come for the fun. You laugh yourself silly over Tamaki’s impromptu poetry, chat with Haruhi (the most down to earth Ouran student you’ve ever met), and maybe join in on the twins’ antics here and there, much to the annoyance of Kyoya- you’re probably on his bad list by now, with the amount of times Hikaru and Kaoru have roped you into pranking him. It’s always a good time, and your casualness around the hosts rather than being in screaming-fangirl-mode 24/7 has earned you points with the club. They see you more as a friend than a client, which is how you want to be treated anyways.

Well, all except one. Unbeknownst to everyone, especially you, a particular host likes you a bit more than just as a friend. Well, unbeknownst to everyone except Mori, but you’d be hard pressed to find something about Mitsukuni Haninozuka Mori doesn’t know.

And so Mori watches as Honey’s big brown eyes track you through the room, fingers tightening almost imperceptibly around his fork as you laugh at something Tamaki says, hand in hand with him. As far as he can tell, Honey has been nurturing this crush on you for the better part of the year. It’s a little impressive, considering he has girls fawning all over him every afternoon. Ever since he set eyes on you he’s been a little more reserved, a little less tactile with the rest of his clients. Not enough for Kyoya to notice- Honey can be surprisingly subtle when he wants to be- but in the lulls of conversation Mori can tell when his cousin’s eyes absentmindedly drift over to you.

Unless, of course, you choose his table to sit at. Then the third year turns on every possible charm he has, and maybe even one or two Mori rarely sees.

“Y/N-chan!” Honey waves his right arm in the air in your direction, his bunny tucked securely to his left. “Come sit with me and Mori-senpai today!”

On the other side of the table, Mori lets one eyebrow tick up just a hair. He’s never explicitly asked for you to request him, even though he probably wants to every day you’re in the music room. Does he have something planned for today? He sits back in his chair, ready to observe, and possibly intervene if something goes wrong.

You bid Tamaki a goodbye and make your way over to Honey’s sweets-laden table. “Hiya Honey.” You give him a little wave. “Got a seat for me?”

“Of course we do!” The boy is practically beaming as he carefully points to a spot on the couch catty-corner to himself. He doesn’t have the nerve to ask you to sit right next to him, but that’s as close as you can be without sharing a seat.

“Hi, Mori. Doing okay?” You give him a smile as you sit, tucking your skirt closer to yourself, and Mori gives you a quiet grunt and a nod in greeting. If Honey had to choose a girl, he supposes there are far worse options. You’re always kind, not just to Honey but to himself and the rest of the club as well. On the few days Mitsukuni has decided on a nap rather than hosting, you usually keep Mori company while he sleeps nearby. You never seem bothered by his silence, and you talk to him about this and that all the same no matter if he replies or not. He’s gotten to know you a fair amount in this way, and he can’t seem to find any fault or warning signs, even with his overprotective eye.

“Y/N-chan, I have a decision to make, and I need your help,” Honey announces, and you turn to him with a semi-serious look schooled onto your features.

“That sounds pretty serious, Honey. You’re not thinking of getting the twins back for that salt in the cake thing last month, are you?” You look around and then lean in close, like you’re imparting secret wisdom. “‘Cause if you are, I totally know Hikaru’s weak spot-”

“I heard that!” The boys in question reply in tandem from across the room, and it sends you and Honey into a fit of giggles.

“No, no, although I really should.” He shoots the pair of gingers a warning look, surprisingly fierce coming from such a cute face. The second he turns back to you, though, he’s the same bright and cheery Honey you know and love. “Nope, today I just need to know-” he pauses for dramatic effect. “Blueberry cake, or chocolate cake?”

“Hm.” You nod slowly, like you’ve just been given serious details to a crime in progress. “Well, it is a little warm outside. All that chocolate might weigh you down. Blueberry is probably lighter. On the other hand, chocolate is, well, chocolate.” Honey nods sympathetically at his plight as you tap your finger against your chin in the classic thinking pose. “Well, why not just have both then, if you can’t decide?”

“Aha!” Honey crows triumphantly as he takes a plate of both flavors and settles them into his lap eagerly. “I knew I liked you for a reason, Y/N-chan!”

You wave a hand dismissively, hoping you’re not blushing at his words. “Please, it was an easy decision. Besides, I’ve seen you take down a whole cake like it’s nothing,” you tease. “Two slices shouldn’t be a problem for you.”

“And what kind do you want?” Honey is looking at you expectantly, and your eyes widen.

“Oh, thanks, Honey, but I’m not super hungry. I had a big lunch.”

“But that’s what you said the last time!” He pouts, and gosh darn it those big eyes just have a habit of tugging on something in your chest.

“I guess I’ll take… this one?” From the slight yellow tint, you assume it’s something lemony, and Honey doesn’t let his gaze up until you have the plate in your lap and a fork in your hand.

“Good good!” You can’t actually eat the cake, of course, but maybe if you pick at the icing he won’t notice. You really don’t want to hurt his feelings, and considering cake is probably his third favorite thing on earth behind Mori and his stuffed bunny … well, you’ve faked it before and you can fake it again. “Now then, did I tell you about how I lost Usa-chan the other day?” You shake your head. “It was so scary! I woke up from a nap and he was just gone! So I called…” you sit back in your seat, content to listen to Honey’s enthusiastic retelling of his adventures, with the occasional input from Mori. The blonde is animated and lively, eyes shining and hands waving about, and you can’t help but smile as you get lost in the time you have with him.

…

“Mori, something’s wrong.” The tone of Honey’s voice, clearly upset (and not the fake-upset he puts on as a show for the clients) has Mori by his side in an instant.

“What is it, Mitsukuni?”

With a trembling hand, his cousin points to the seat you had occupied during the club’s hours that day. “Y/N-chan didn’t eat her cake.” Indeed, a maid was clearing up your still full plate of cake, apparently having been only slightly picked at around the edges.

“Perhaps she wasn’t hungry,” Mori offers, resting a comforting hand on his cousin’s shoulder.

“Hmmm.” Honey has his thinking face on, which is far less dangerous than the twins’ thinking face but should nonetheless be treated with caution. “I think I have an idea!” Before Mori can offer to be a sounding board, Honey runs over to Kyoya and perches himself by the Shadow King’s side. “Kyo-sama?”

The host barely looks away from his calculations of the day’s profits to focus on Honey. “Yes?”

“Can we have my favorite cake tomorrow?” Honey leans in and widens his big brown eyes. “You know, the really reeeeeeeally good one?”

Kyoya seems to do a few quick mental calculations. “I don’t see why not. I’ll put the orders in.”

“Yay! Thank you!” Despite Kyoya liking his personal space, Honey gives him a quick tight squeeze before skipping back to Mori. He tugs on his cousin’s blazer and Mori obligingly places Honey on his shoulders, where the boy settles with a sigh, his chin on the crown of Mori’s head. “I really like Y/N,” he whispers, a quiet confession in a genuine tone that warms Mori’s chest. He pats a hand on Honey’s knee and lets it rest there, offering support.

“I know, Mitsukuni. Perhaps one day soon you will work up the courage to tell her.” Another sigh, and then the slight frustrated groan of an eighteen year old boy who’s just trying to tell his crush he thinks she’s pretty, but keeps chickening out every time. Mori can sympathize. As hosts, they sweet-talk girls all day long, easy as breathing. But when one comes along that actually matters, well. It’s a different story. All that charm and grace usually flies right out the window, leaving only nerves and shaky honestly. “Let’s get you home. Perhaps a bath?”

He can feel Honey nod reluctantly, face still buried in his black hair. “Alright then.” They leave the music room together, as they often do, but Mori can tell his cousin’s thoughts are still with you and the way you smiled at him all afternoon.

…

The next day, Honey is a man on a mission,  more so than usual. Mori watches a little amusedly as he arranges plates of cake and teacups with their saucers on the table in front of him with absolute precision. He can guess his cousin’s plan- tempt you into partaking in the sweets with his favorite cake, an absolutely monstrous vanilla sponge iced in strawberry buttercream between each layer and fresh fruit decorating the tops. It’s almost too over the top even for the host club, but Honey never does anything halfway when it comes to his desserts.

When you enter the music room, he immediately calls you over. “Y/N-chan! Come sit with me!”

“I just sat with you yesterday!” You laugh, but nonetheless take your seat across from him. “Miss me already?” You tease, and you don’t notice the faint blush that spreads over Honey’s already rosy cheeks.

“Today we have my favorite cake,” he announces proudly, presenting you with the five-layer indulgence. “It’s double-strawberry with REAL strawberries on top!”

“That sounds pretty good.” And looks even better. Gosh, what you wouldn’t give to be able to dig into some of that. “How much did you have to pester Kyoya to get it for you?”

Honey shrugs shyly. “Not that much. Come on, try it!” He shoves a piece and a fork into your hand. “We can eat it together!”

You accept the plate, and delicately pick a strawberry off the top to pop into your mouth. “An excellent choice, Honey,” you say, trying to speak around the berry on your tongue. “You have good taste.” A few more strawberries get eaten, and a few bits of swirled icing broken off the sides, but no more. “So, how was your day?”

Honey seems to deflate just a little, but goes into his various stories about this and that over the week. He isn’t nearly as animated as usual- in fact, after just a few minutes, he keeps trailing off into silence, looking lost.

“Honey? Is… is everything okay?” You ask carefully. It’s clear something’s wrong with him.

To your surprise, when he turns to face you, there are unshed tears sparkling in his eyes. “Do you not like me, Y/N-chan?” His voice wobbles. Mori instantly appears in the background, looking concerned.

Your eyes widen. “Not like you? Of course I like you, Honey! Why would you ever think that?”

“Well…” He looks away, then says quietly, “you never eat the cake I give you.”

Oh. “Oh, Honey, I’m sorry. It’s really not you, I promise. I just can’t eat cake is all.”

Now it’s his turn to look shocked. “Can’t… eat cake? How can you not eat cake?”

“Well, I’m allergic.” He blinks at you, obviously confused, and you take a breath before explaining. “I can’t eat anything made of wheat. Or more specifically, anything with gluten in it. It’s the stuff in cake and baked goods that makes them spongy and, well. Good.” You look longingly at the cake and laugh a little. “It’s called celiac disease. I can get really sick if I eat even a little bit of gluten. But believe me, I really wish I could eat it.” You sigh, remembering the days when you could stuff your face with anything you wanted and not face dire consequences.

Honey is silent for a few moments. Then, the tears start spilling rapidly down his cheeks, making you even more alarmed. “You mean I’ve been making you sick?” He says in a small voice, clearly devastated. “Why didn’t you tell me, Y/N-chan, I wouldn’t have ever given it to you if I’d known-!”

“No, no, it’s okay!” You’re quick to reassure him, wanting his tears to stop. “You’re not going to poison my by osmosis or anything.” You give him a smile. “And I can usually eat the toppings or the frosting!” To prove your point, you drag a fingertip through the thick buttercream icing and lick it off. “See? No harm done.”

Well, he’s stopped crying at least, and you haven’t been murdered by Mori for making the boy sad, so you figure you’re mostly in the clear. “I still don’t know why you didn’t tell me,” Honey sniffs, miserable at the thought that he could have hurt you so badly without even knowing it.

“Well, I…” you turn away a little, embarrassed. “I guess I just didn’t want to upset you. I know sharing what you love is important to you and I can’t do that because of my allergies… but I just ended up upsetting you anyways.” You shake your head. “I guess I just… really like you Honey, and I didn’t want to stop seeing you…” instantly, your cheeks flame red with the impromptu admission, and you stumble over your words. “Gosh, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I made you cry, Honey. Please forgive me!” You stand and gather your things as quickly as you can. “I’ll… I’ll see you later.” A second later, the door to the music room is opened and shut as you take your leave from the embarrassing situation.

Of course, your running just makes Honey even sadder. Mori sits on the couch next to him and offers a hug, which he gladly accepts, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. “I almost hurt Y/N-chan,” he says softly.

“She said you did her no harm,” Mori replies, his deep voice rumbling.

“But I could have! I could have made her sick or killed her because I didn’t know…!” Honey is sad and angry and frustrated all at once. There’s a few moments of silence, and then- “Do… Do you think she’ll come back?”

“I’m not sure, Mitsukuni.”

“I messed everything up,” the boy says miserably, and burrows his way further into Mori’s arms so he can cry in peace.  

…

“Hey, Y/N. You doing okay? We haven’t seen you in a while.” Haruhi slides into a desk next to you in the back of the classroom, taking you by surprise. “Tamaki’s been sulking in the corner for the last three days now.”

“Oh, well.” You laugh nervously, trying not to twist your fingers too much. Honestly, you haven’t worked up the courage to go back to the Host Club after last time’s incident. Really, only you could make the boy you’ve been crushing on cry… “I’ve just been a little busy I guess!”

Haruhi shrugs. “Well hey, if you’ve got the time, stop by sometime today? Put me out of my misery, you know how Tamaki can be.” She rolls her eyes as her dry tone lets you in on her exasperation, making you giggle. Maybe you can just try to avoid Honey? If you stick with Tamaki you might be okay…

“Well, I’m sure I can stop by for a bit this afternoon. If only to help you out,” you tease fondly. Haruhi smiles in that endearing way of hers and sits back in her chair to put her attention on the teacher that’s just walked into the room. But what you can’t see is her pulling her phone from her pocket and shooting a quick text to the Host Club group chat (every time she removed herself one of the boys just kept adding her back in, so she’s accepted her fate of being woken up by commoner memes at 2AM):

Tamaki’s Princess: Y/N said she’d stop by today

                         Tamaki’s Princess changed her name to Haruhi

Haruhi: and for god’s sakes Tamaki stop it with the stupid nicknames

King Tamaki: it wasn’t me, I swear!,!!!

Thing 1: *devil emoji* Thing 2: *laughing emoji*

Mommy Dearest: you all know you must maintain a 3.8 average to remain in a club, correct?

New message from: Honey-Senpai

Did Y/N-chan really say she’d come today?!?!???!,?!

Haruhi smiles and thumbs over to the private chat. She of course knows about Honey’s crush on you- she’s got eyes, after all- and she figured he’d be happy to know you’d be back this afternoon.

Yup. She seems a little nervous tho. Go easy on her maybe.

She watches the little “typing in progress” bubble appear, then disappear, then appear… only to disappear again. She locks her phone and slips it back into her trouser pocket, glancing sideways at you taking notes in your binder. Hopefully Honey won’t mess this up…

Meanwhile, in his own classroom, Honey is typing out a message so frantically his fingers keep slipping on the screen.

Y/N-CHAN IS COMIGN TOT HE CLUB TODAY

MEET ME AT HOEM DURING LUNCH BREAK

Mori allows himself a small smile as he responds with a simple thumbs up.

…

That afternoon, you have to stand outside the music room for a few moments to gather your nerves. It’ll be fine. Just stick with Tamaki, or maybe Haruhi, don’t think about Honey, and maybe you won’t embarrass yourself again… or make him cry, again…

All your plans immediately go out the window the moment you step inside- because apparently, Honey was waiting expectantly by the door for you.

“Hi Y/N-chan!” His smile instantly washes away your nerves. At least he’s still happy to see you. “We’ve missed you!” He makes Usa-chan give you a little wave, and you laugh.

“I’ve missed you guys too; I just got a little busy I suppose.” You try not to blush thinking about the disaster that happened last time you were here.

“Well you have to come sit with me today! I have a surprise for you!”

Your eyes widen. “A surprise?” “Mhm! Come on, I’ll show you!” With that, he grabs your hand like he does it all the time and drags you off to his little corner. You can’t help but get a few butterflies as the two of you hold hands. Sure, he’s probably just doing it to get you where he needs you to go, but still… it’s nice.

“Okay, close your eyes!”

“Close my eyes?” You lightly cover your face with your fingers. “You won’t let me fall, will you?”

“Of course not!” You can hear the horror in his voice at the thought as he maneuvers you into position, then gently pokes your stomach in an indication to sit down. You do, feeling the plush couch give under your weight. “Okay, open in one, two, three!”

You blink into the light, and you see before you- well. You’re not quite sure what it is, exactly. It’s definitely lopsided, and colorful, with swirls of pink and blues and maybe some sugar crystals on top? Oh… “Honey? What’s all this?”

“It’s… A CAKE!” He announces proudly, smile turned up to megawatt proportions. “I made you a cake!” He’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, clearly excited. “Come on, you’ve gotta try it!”

“You… made me a cake?” Something warm flares in your chest, just below your collarbone, then fizzles out just as quickly as you look at him sadly. “Oh, Honey, that is super sweet of you, but I told you I-”

“Noooooooo, listen!” He cuts you off, eager. “This is a special cake! It’s, um…” he glances at Mori, who has been sitting across from you in his own couch watching this exchange, and mouths something quizzically to him. Mori nods solemnly, and Honey turns back to you. “Gluten free!”

“Wait, really?” You’re stunned. Had he really put in this much effort, all for you?

“Mhm! It’s made with like, almond flour and stuff. I looked up a recipe and everything! I didn’t know if you liked pink or blue best, so I just decided to use both.” He very carefully cuts you a slice, plates it, and offers it to you. “Will… will you try it?”

“Of course I will!” Honestly, you’re just about tearing up at this. No one has ever gone to so much effort for you- gluten free baking is hard. “You don’t know how much this means to me, Honey.”

He blushes a little as you get a bit on your fork to take a bite. You stall a little though, just having to double check- “and you’re sure there’s no wheat in this at all? The cake, the icing, nothing?”

“Nope! Mori helped me make it and he made sure I didn’t mess up.”

You glance at the boy in question and he nods, confirming. Mori is the definition of vigilant, so if he was watching, it’s probably okay. So you happily take a bite, laughing a little when a bit falls from between your lips and you chase the crumbs with a napkin.

It’s… not good. Really not good. At all. It’s somehow dry and underbaked all at once, and it’s way too sweet, almost as though the first ingredient was sugar. “It’s… awesome, Honey!” You try to smile around your mouthful, chewing as quickly as you can so you can get it down. “Thank you so much!”

But the look he gives you is totally worth stomaching some questionable cake. So you eat another bite, and another, and Honey seems to get happier and happier as he sits next to you working away at his own piece.

By the end of the afternoon, you’ve only managed to finish one piece, but that seems to be enough for the small host- he’s running around the music room, chattering to anyone and everyone, happier than he’s been in weeks.

“You can tell him it’s bad, you know.”

You glance up at Mori, still sitting across from you, watching with an amused smile. Narrowing your eyes at him, you mock-threateningly brandish your fork at him. “Absolutely not! Don’t you dare!”

…

The entire next week, you feel like you’re floating on clouds. You haven’t missed another day at the Host Club, nor another day sitting with Honey. He hasn’t attempted another culinary masterpiece, thankfully, but that hasn’t stopped him from being in great spirits. It’s been wonderful. You’re daydreaming about it as you lazily flip through a book, nestled underneath a huge cherry blossom tree on the school’s grounds. Maybe you should tell Honey how you feel… but no, that’d be silly. He’s a host after all, he’s got much better options to pick from on any given day…

“Hey, Y/N.” Like he was pulled from your thoughts, Honey appears beside you, a book bag slung over his shoulder. “Can I sit with you?”

“Honey, hi! Of course!” You scoot over a bit and pat the ground next to you. He sighs and drops his bag, then plops down next to it, fisting his hands into his hair as he lets out a little groan.

“Are… you okay?” You glance at him. “You seem a little… tired?”

He glances up at you sideways, big brown eyes drooping a little at the corners. “I haven’t eaten any cake all day.”

“What? Really?” You weren’t even sure if Honey ate anything else but cake.

“Nope.” He shakes his head dejectedly. “No cake, no cinnamon buns, no tarts, no nothing!” He dramatically fake-faints into your lap, his nose scrunched up in clear displeasure. “It’s been horrible.”

“I can imagine.” You blink at your sudden lapful of Honey. Without thinking, you run a hand through his hair in a soothing gesture. It’s soft and surprisingly thick. “Are you sick? Why haven’t you eaten?”

“Oh.” He abruptly sits up, kneeling by your side. “‘Cause I wanted to do this.” Before you have a chance to process anything, he’s pressed a kiss to your lips, so brief you think you might have imagined it. His hand finds its way to your cheek, and he runs a thumb over your cheekbone like he’s reassuring himself you’re actually there. It’s a good grounding for you too, because you feel like the earth has just disappear out from under you.

When he pulls away, he lets his hand drop, and you almost want to take your own hand and put it back up where it was. You’re speechless. Honey… likes you? Likes you likes you? You can tell a wildfire of a blush is creeping across your cheeks as you blink at him, starstruck.

He’s looking at you with a bit of a sad expression on his face. “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way. I just had to try.” He moves to go, but you grab his hand before he can get far.

“Honey, wait! I don’t- I’m not- agh! Just… give me a second.” He tilts his head curiously at you as you put your palm up to your cheek, willing them to stop burning, and take a couple of deep breaths. “I’m just surprised, I guess,” you say honestly. “I didn’t know you felt that way about me.”

“I don’t make cakes for just anyone,” he says seriously, and your heart breaks a little.

“I suppose not.” You pause. “Wait. Did you not eat any cake today because you were planning on kissing me?”

“Mhm.”  He looks at his shoes, toeing the ground. “I didn’t wanna risk making you sick.”

“Oh.” Oh. “Then how come you still taste like sugar?”

Honey blinks at you. “What?”

“You… you still taste like sugar,” you say bashfully, tapping your lips. “Even though you haven’t eaten any sweets today.”

That makes him giggle, the sound brightening the sun. “I guess I’m living up to my reputation, huh?” He shrugs and winks at you.

“Very much so.” It occurs to you that you’ve still got a hand wrapped around his wrist, from where you stopped him from leaving. You shift a little so that you can wind your fingers through his. “You know, I’m not really sure if that would make me sick or not. I guess I’ll have to find out if you’re going to keep surprising me with kisses.”

You watch him digest your words, and as realization washes over him it looks like all his hopes and dreams have been answered. “I’ll keep surprising you if you want me to.”

Gently, you tug on his hand until he’s standing in front of you, then lean up to give him another soft peck. “I think I’d like that.”

He almost can’t kiss you again because he’s smiling too hard, but somehow that makes him taste even sweeter.

#ouran host club #ouran hshc #ouran fic #mitsukuni haninozuka #ohshc honey #honey x reader #reader insert #ohshc mori #ohshc tamaki #ohshc kyoya #ohshc haruhi

[holyfourthofjulyweenieroast]

Notes on Season 15- Part 1 (contains spoilers, are mostly complaints about Torres (and Quinn in Pandora’s Box (Part 1)), and are my personal opinions, don’t @ me)

Since Season 15 started rerunning in Australia on 19 November, I’ve decided to write down things I forgot or would like to emphasise upon:

House Divided

I’m so glad Quinn’s gone, good riddance

Reeves saying NCIS wasn’t allowed to look for Gibbs and McGee, then the dispatch guy looking around at their efforts to do just that was great

Why does Torres have to be so disrespectful, even in court- poor Vance having to witness it

Were Bishop and Jimmy being serious about the phone booth?

Poor Reeves- never lend anything to Torres

I love it when Vance gets angry on the team’s behalf, it’s awesome

Don’t be such a dick, Torres

Jezebel Poppins sort of looks like Britney Spears- sidenote, I wonder how the show comes up with character names

Gibbs’ carving was amazing

Bishop and Reeves look so good together, ugh

St. Nicholas is the patron saint of children- in relation to Torres, that explains a lot

Fuck off with your insulting Reeves, Torres- like you haven’t made a mistake before (and much bigger than letting not-so-relevant information slip)

The committee backing Vance up was awesome

‘hobbies?’ ‘not dying’ amazing

The end scenes were so sweet

Every time Delilah said ‘husband’ and McGee said ‘wife’, I went ‘aww’ inside

McGee had such great lines this episode

WHY COULDN’T REEVES HAVE BEEN THE THIRD AGENT SO TORRES AND QUINN WOULD HAVE NEVER EXISTED AND CBS WOULD’VE SAVED HEAPS OF MONEY HIRING ONE MAIN CHARACTER THAT AUDIENCES ALREADY KNEW AND LOVED INSTEAD OF TWO NEW ANNOYING ONES

Twofer

Dr. Grace! I love her so much, and her reaction to Gibbs catching her off-guard was awesome

When does Torres not have doubts about Bishop and her competency for just about anything

I almost forgot about Ducky’s ringtone

Ugh, I hate Torres’ macho persona

I don’t get the whole falling-in-love-with-someone-your-S.O.-was-close-to (or falling in love with anyone after your S.O. died, for that matter)

When did Abby make the switch from coffin to casket (or is it a backup or something)? I forgot if it’s been mentioned previously

I was really worried watching the Jimmy-and-the-liver bit for the first time

For some reason, Gibbs and McGee’s basement conversation reminded me of McGee and Tony’s in 3x10

Aww, Ducky getting invited to be honoured as an alumnus was so sweet

McGee’s shrink appointment with Dr. Grace was a really great scene

Dr. Grace and Gibbs have a such great friendship, and this episode was no exception

WHY COULDN’T REEVES HAVE BEEN THE THIRD AGENT SO TORRES AND QUINN WOULD HAVE NEVER EXISTED AND CBS WOULD’VE SAVED HEAPS OF MONEY HIRING ONE MAIN CHARACTER THAT AUDIENCES ALREADY KNEW AND LOVED INSTEAD OF TWO NEW ANNOYING ONES

Exit Strategy

McGee talking about all the old cases, so nostalgic

I love McGee and Jimmy’s friendship

SPORTELLI! I kind of missed him, not going to lie (I wish his story didn’t end the way it did)

Torres is such an asshole to and about everyone, ugh

Torres’ flower drawing looked more like a hubcap

Aww, Ducky teaching the lecture was so cute

Jimmy standing up for himself, go Autopsy Gremlin

Ducky’s fanclub is way too over-eager

Seriously, Torres? You’re a federal agent, and you think saying you’d steal bearer bonds out loud is a good idea?

Ducky and Jimmy have such a sweet relationship

The plot of this episode sucked, I don’t get why they had to make Sportelli dirty

WHY COULDN’T REEVES HAVE BEEN THE THIRD AGENT SO TORRES AND QUINN WOULD HAVE NEVER EXISTED AND CBS WOULD’VE SAVED HEAPS OF MONEY HIRING ONE MAIN CHARACTER THAT AUDIENCES ALREADY KNEW AND LOVED INSTEAD OF TWO NEW ANNOYING ONES

Skeleton Crew

Why is Toccata and Fugue the music piece of choice for every spooky TV show scene ever (it’s great, though, don’t get me wrong)

SLOANE! Her entrance is one of the most iconic (and obvious, I caught the ID flash the first time I watched it) ever, plus she looked just so beautiful

McGee talking about Delilah was so cute

Torres is so pigheaded and obnoxious

Abby’s zombie apocalypse kits were such a sweet idea

Abby and Jimmy have such a cute friendship (and the Hamilton bit was hilarious)

Sloane and Vance are such a great brotp from the very first scene

SHUT. UP. TORRES.

I hate it whenever Torres says something along the lines of ‘I’m not trying to be ________, but...’- he uses it as an excuse for his shitty behaviour, and it’s never addressed

‘I don’t believe in absolutes’ well, we know that Sloane’s not a Sith, then (I know the Sith deal in absolutes, but to deal in something, you most likely have to believe in it first)

$300, 000 really isn’t a lot, especially split between two people

The last two Bishop-and-Buckner scenes were sweet, but didn’t make up for his previous behaviour towards her

Akin to 17x06, this episode glossed over the bullying Bishop endured, and how it’s a serious issue

WHY COULDN’T REEVES HAVE BEEN THE THIRD AGENT SO TORRES AND QUINN WOULD HAVE NEVER EXISTED AND CBS WOULD’VE SAVED HEAPS OF MONEY HIRING ONE MAIN CHARACTER THAT AUDIENCES ALREADY KNEW AND LOVED INSTEAD OF TWO NEW ANNOYING ONES

Fake It ‘Til You Make It

The first time I saw this, I instantly knew it was Tony’s doing- how could anyone not

Reeves is so caring and kind, it sucks how Melissa played him

Abby and Reeves (Rabby? Clabby?) were such a great brotp while it lasted

FUCK. OFF. TORRES.

Why is Torres such an asshole? He’s rude and insensitive to everyone, even recovering addicts- how have the writers not been called out for their writing of him yet

I love Sloane so much-she’s awesome

Those tap-lights are horribly hipster and ugly

The end scene in the bullpen was hilarious, and the end scene with Reeves was so emotional and heartbreaking

Rishop’s friendship (not their more-than-friendship, they’re two separate things) was so prevalent in this episode, and it was great to see

This episode had such a powerful message, and was a great instance in the Rule 10 debate

WHY COULDN’T REEVES HAVE BEEN THE THIRD AGENT SO TORRES AND QUINN WOULD HAVE NEVER EXISTED AND CBS WOULD’VE SAVED HEAPS OF MONEY HIRING ONE MAIN CHARACTER THAT AUDIENCES ALREADY KNEW AND LOVED INSTEAD OF TWO NEW ANNOYING ONES

Trapped

Aww, Jimmy’s so sweet

Torres is so ungrateful and stingy

Torres using work time for personal stuff, not surprising

Reeves’ chess pun was absolutely the best

For some reason, I really love it when Reeves does that thing where he puts his hands behind his back and slightly leans forward

‘The Timinator’ I’m dying

Like Reeves said, Torres always has to one-up everyone else and I hate it

That kid was so sassy, omfG

Bishop knows Reeves so well, and it’s too adorable- how could the writers set up Ellick when Rishop already had an outline

That’s what you get for being such an asshole, Torres, and trying to get it back was one of the lowest things a character has done

I love it when NCIS includes charities (real and based-on-real) and the like in episodes

Words can’t even describe how much I hated Torres in this episode- he was at his worst

WHY COULDN’T REEVES HAVE BEEN THE THIRD AGENT SO TORRES AND QUINN WOULD HAVE NEVER EXISTED AND CBS WOULD’VE SAVED HEAPS OF MONEY HIRING ONE MAIN CHARACTER THAT AUDIENCES ALREADY KNEW AND LOVED INSTEAD OF TWO NEW ANNOYING ONES

Pandora’s Box (Part 1)- Season 14, didn’t re-air with the other episodes because Part 2 (NOLA) is re-airing in two days from time of writing

Bishop being a fangirl was completely understandable (and relatable)

Good job insulting Abby, Torres- not

I’m gonna try and start saying ‘Aristotle banana split’ in everyday conversation

Poor Abby- such a sucky situation

Quinn is so annoying

JJ looks to old to have a daughter in preschool

‘Dr. Ducky’ TOO ADORABLE

Ducky and Reeves having banter about British things was the best thing ever

Bishop and Reeves are so cute together (also the ‘smart girl’ comment was definitely about her)

Bishop was on the shortlist after all, I’m so proud of her (even though the mission went south)

The NYB memorial wall, so sad

LaSalle (rip)! I just love his Alabama accent

Torres is just such a douche

McAbby is such a great brotp

Why does Torres have to be so dramatic and show-offy

WHY COULDN’T REEVES HAVE BEEN THE THIRD AGENT SO TORRES AND QUINN WOULD HAVE NEVER EXISTED AND CBS WOULD’VE SAVED HEAPS OF MONEY HIRING ONE MAIN CHARACTER THAT AUDIENCES ALREADY KNEW AND LOVED INSTEAD OF TWO NEW ANNOYING ONES

Burden Of Proof

Yuck, I hate Torres, and even more when he talks about himself

Sloane’s choker top, YES

I hate it when Torres messes with Bishop’s mind and feelings- that’s not how you show you care about someone

Oof, Fornell- it sucks his job was brought into this mess, and that he lost it as a result

I really don’t want to know why ‘feet’ was the first thing that came to Torres’ mind

There’s something to just love about when Vance breaks up Fornell and Gibbs’ arguments

‘Name That Profile’ actually sounds like a pretty fun game

I hate Torres’ innate cockiness- he risks the suspect getting away just so he can put on a show beforehand

Ouch, poor Fornell- it was the wrong decision, and I don’t know if I would’ve done it, but I did get why he did it- the evidence that Hicks killed the Lieutenant was compelling

Poor Gibbs, you can just see the inner turmoil in his head

Aww, Sloane

Fornell, aww- I’ll fight anyone who says he’s an inherently bad person

Hicks really is a great liar to be able to fool a shrink

I really liked the Gabriel Hicks arc, this episode was the first of a few great ones

WHY COULDN’T REEVES HAVE BEEN THE THIRD AGENT SO TORRES AND QUINN WOULD HAVE NEVER EXISTED AND CBS WOULD’VE SAVED HEAPS OF MONEY HIRING ONE MAIN CHARACTER THAT AUDIENCES ALREADY KNEW AND LOVED INSTEAD OF TWO NEW ANNOYING ONES

Voices

It’s rich of Torres to back up a woman’s side of things

Never stop being awkward and adorkable, Jimmy (adwarkable?)

‘Jack, knock yourself out’ ‘I will, Gibbs’- funniest exchange ever

Ducky lives for the drama and I love it

Collapsing floor during a birthday party- hell of a way to go

Delilah putting up a firewall to prevent McGee from finding out the baby’s gender was so funny

Mike Franks popping up for all of ten seconds was just so iconic

The twins reveal was pretty cute

The foreshadowing in this episode with Sloane and the losing-a-daughter storyline (whether intentional or not) was really good to watch back

The amount of times the word ‘sex’ was said during this episode made me extremely uncomfortable- how hard is it to say ‘gender’ instead

WHY COULDN’T REEVES HAVE BEEN THE THIRD AGENT SO TORRES AND QUINN WOULD HAVE NEVER EXISTED AND CBS WOULD’VE SAVED HEAPS OF MONEY HIRING ONE MAIN CHARACTER THAT AUDIENCES ALREADY KNEW AND LOVED INSTEAD OF TWO NEW ANNOYING ONES

Ready Or Not

Don’t be such an asshole to Reeves, Torres

The Harrison Ford-themed names were kind of bad, but definitely not as much as they could have been

Abby and Delilah’s friendship has come such a long way, I’m so proud

Aww, Morgan, he was so sweet and didn’t deserve to die

Poor Sloane

McGee making a duplicate comfort kit for Delilah was the most adorable thing ever, and Abby yelling along with her was so funny

Bishop and Reeves always stand and sit so close together, too cute

I remember watching this for the first time and being really shocked when Yorka shot Morgan, especially since it was so early on in the episode

Abby really is a terrible liar

Bishop and Gibbs’ little performance was awesome

I don’t know why they didn’t think about putting Sloane in in the first place

Sloane making snarky comments was awesome

Morgan dying was so sad

Seriously, Torres? Do you want everything to blow up?

Reeves and Torres debating the bomb was hilarious

I loved how Gibbs just straight-up punched the driver in the face

The end scene with the twin-naming was so cute

WHY COULDN’T REEVES HAVE BEEN THE THIRD AGENT SO TORRES AND QUINN WOULD HAVE NEVER EXISTED AND CBS WOULD’VE SAVED HEAPS OF MONEY HIRING ONE MAIN CHARACTER THAT AUDIENCES ALREADY KNEW AND LOVED INSTEAD OF TWO NEW ANNOYING ONES

High Tide (originally Ep. 11, but for some reason it aired as Ep. 10)

Torres is so obnoxious and a really bad law enforcer- lives are always more important than the op

Reeves worried about Bishop, so sweet

Torres is such a dick for ignoring Bishop and protocol

Ugh, why is Torres so arrogant and bigheaded- I hate him so much, yuck

How could those girls not know the capital of Maine

Insubordination is Torres’ middle name, and I could’ve watched a whole season’s worth of Vance chewing him out

Bishop’s anger was completely justified, but I wish it wasn’t because of feelings for him

I FUCKING HATE TORRES SO MUCH I WANT TO KILL HIM

Torres absolutely cannot be trusted, Sloane- you know it and so does everyone else

Yuuuck, I hated that part so much, and it didn’t even make sense- Bishop was super-angry at him just before, why would she do a complete 180

What other sort of cop is there, you idiot

Go, Bishop! So badass

Ya think, McGee?

Torres is such an idiot- don’t admit anything to someone who can’t be 100% trusted, and that plot twist was pretty predictable

More like a soft zero

Seriously? What if he died, you dickhead- also the fact that Torres had no backup plan and was only okay because the team saved him shows how self-obsessed and incompetent he is

The fact that the team doubted Torres shows how little he can be trusted, and how little they trust him

There was absolutely no chemistry between Bishop and Torres in this episode (or ever), and words can’t express how much I loathe and despise him and everything about him, which sucks because he could’ve been really well-written

WHY COULDN’T REEVES HAVE BEEN THE THIRD AGENT SO TORRES AND QUINN WOULD HAVE NEVER EXISTED AND CBS WOULD’VE SAVED HEAPS OF MONEY HIRING ONE MAIN CHARACTER THAT AUDIENCES ALREADY KNEW AND LOVED INSTEAD OF TWO NEW ANNOYING ONES

Dark Secrets (originally Ep. 12, but for some reason it aired as Ep. 11)

I think all babies are pretty ugly, but Johnny and Morgan are cute

It’s just an ID photo, Torres- stop complaining

‘is there a spouse’ Autopsy Gremlin for the gender-inclusive win!

Carol mention! She’s awesome

Bud again! I’m using a lot of exclamation marks, but they’re things to exclaim about

Poor guy- she was a total asshole, lying to and cheating on him

Bishop and Sloane have such a pure relationship

Seriously, Torres? Not everyone dates in high school, and shaming someone about it is pathetic and juvenile (and it doesn’t help if they’re dead, either)

Recording your infidelity exploits isn’t a good idea (infidelity isn’t, full-stop)

I hate how obnoxious and over-confident Torres is

Just another instance of Torres manipulating someone into doing something for him

This was easily one of the most gross and uncomfortable plots I’ve seen, but a good way of showing that it’s not only guys that cheat and lie- girls do as well

WHY COULDN’T REEVES HAVE BEEN THE THIRD AGENT SO TORRES AND QUINN WOULD HAVE NEVER EXISTED AND CBS WOULD’VE SAVED HEAPS OF MONEY HIRING ONE MAIN CHARACTER THAT AUDIENCES ALREADY KNEW AND LOVED INSTEAD OF TWO NEW ANNOYING ONES

#season 15 #ncis season 15 #ncis #naval criminal investigative service

[imagining-supernatural]

Living By The List

Summary: Your friend is late, there’s a creepy guy on the other end of the bar, and the only trustworthy creepy-guy-buffer you can see in the bar is, for some reason, famous celebrity Sebastian Stan.

Word Count: 1.485

Warnings: Fluff!! Creepy Guy. Implied romantic relationship between Jeff Goldblum and Kevin Bacon.

A/N: This fic has traveled MANY MANY miles to come to you today! I handwrote it, sent pictures to @kclaire1 to type it up, then I proofread it and sent it back to have Marisa post it! Sometimes having a broken laptop leads to fun little experiments!

~~~~~

It´s pure human instinct. Something from the primal part of our brains that´s survived the industrialization of the world. The hair on the back of your neck raises and your senses snap into instant focus.

Someone was watching you.

And that voice in the back of your mind whispered that it was not a friendly stare.

As casually as you could, you cast your eyes around the only bar in this small town. It wasn’t the first time you looked around, but it was the first time your goal wasn’t to see If your friend had shown up yet.

Your eyes met dark brown ones across the room and instant shivers raced down your spine. As a solo woman in a bar, you didn´t have many defenses. And, being so new in town, you didn’t know many of the other patrons enough to trust them to be your creepy guy buffer.

There was the city drunk, Joey.  But he was already passed out. And Mr. Sylvester sat on the other end of the bar, but he gave off that pervert vibe whenever you ran into him. You supposed that was the less creepy of the two options, but you weren’t that desperate yet.

The rest of the bar patrons were strangers, until your eyes landed on a familiar pair of blue eyes, crinkles around the corner as he laughed.

What the hell was Sebastian Stan doing in your small town?

Movement from the other end of the bar drew your attention and you saw the creepy stranger starting to move your way.

Well, you were definitely desperate enough to get over any celebrity induced shyness.

Quickly, you gathered your things, picked up your drink, and made your way to Sebastian´s table, sliding into an empty seat.

“Hi, I promise I’m not a crazy fangirl trying to ruin your night, but there´s this guy over there sending some bad vibes and I get the feeling that you´re my best bet for a creepy guy buffer until my friend gets here. I´m Y/N by the way.”

After taking a deep breath, you noticed with relief that Sebastian and his friend looked amused, rather than angry.

The friend extended his hand for a handshake, which you returned without hesitation. “Nice to meet you, Y/N, I’m Jeremiah. This is Sebastian.���

Their acceptance at your presence let you breathe a sigh of relief. “Thank you. I´d say I won´t be intruding on your night too long, but I’m perpetually early and my friend is perpetually late, so…”

“So I should order the three of us another round, yeah?” Sebastian said before signaling the bartender.

“Oh, no, you don’t have to …” you trailed off as the deed was already done.

Sebastian´s lips quirked up In a smile and he waved off your belated protest. “So, Y/N, were you and your friend meeting up to celebrate something tonight?”

“I don’t really know. She talks so much that we could either be celebrating a new deal at her work or the fact that she found a cute dress. Breanne is the kind of person who celebrates everything.”

“Sounds like a fun friend to have.”

A soft chuckle escaped your lips. “An expensively fun friend.”

“Lots of celebratory drinks?” Jeremiah guessed correctly. You nodded, raised your glass, and downed the last of your mojito. There was another round coming, so why make this drink last?

“You know what brings me here tonight. What about you guys? We don’t get many celebrities in North Dakota.”

Jeremiah grinned and sat forward, a sparkle of excitement in his eyes. “I´ve always want to drive down the Enchanted Highway.”

“You should have seen him in high school when he found out about the highway,” Sebastian cut in. “Jere loves weird and strange things.”

“I heard the enchanted highway is pretty cool.”

“You´ve never seen it? And you live, like, two hours from it?” Jeremiah seemed almost offended. You had to admit, his passion for all things weird and strange was pretty refreshing.

With a shrug, you answered simply. “I´ve only been here a year and I’ve taken my time setting in.”

“Excuses, excuses,” Jeremiah scoffed playfully shaking his head for effect.  

Sebastian laughed. “Not everyone is as excited about the thing on our list as you are, man.”

“Your list? Like a bucket list?”

“Kind of. More like a list of places and things to see before we turn fifty.” Sebastian answered in his soft, smooth voice. “So, not really like a list of things to do, like skydiving.”

“Nah, I get it. My friend and I had a kind of weird list, back when I lived in the city.”

That definitely sparked Jeremiah’s interest. “Weird?”

Your conversation was interrupted by  a waitress bringing your drinks. You´d been so caught up in the conversation that you forgot about the creepy man and your friend. A glance around the room let you know that the man was gone, and Breanne was not yet here.

Completely free, you turned back to the men and took a sip of your new mojito. “We found an article online – I think it was Buzzfeed or something – and it was about how people request weird things when they reserve a hotel room. Like for three red M&Ms to be placed on the dresser. So we made a list of 20 weird things to request and tried to race to the end of the list.”

“Who won?”

“Neither of us.” Another sip of the drink, and a hard swallow tamped down your sudden rush of emotions, just enough for you to give a practiced explanation. “The list got weirder the longer it went on and it was harder for the hotel staff to get on board.”

“What was the first item?”

“Don’t you want to know what the weirdest item was?” you asked Jeremiah.

His eyebrow rose in a challenge. “The starting point is so much more telling.”

“Alright.” Shifting around in your seat, you looked Jeremiah in the eye. “Number one. Request a picture of Kevin Bacon and a picture of Jeff Goldblum staring at each other like they´re so deeply in love while Edwin McCain´s I´ll Be plays in the background.”

While Jeremiah leaned back considering that, Sebastian leaned forward. “How many hotel did it takes before you got that one?”

“Three. Salt Lake and Seattle were busts, but New Orleans earned my respect.”

“Interesting. Kevin Bacon and Jeff Goldbum, you said?”

“Unwritten rule that if the staff adds anything like rose petals or a candle, you have to tip fifteen percent more.” Jugging your phone out of your bag, you kept talking. “I ended up tipping over twenty percent because, not only they include candles, rose petals, and chocolate covered strawberries, but they also left a note where the entire staff voted on whether their couple name would be Goldbacon or Baconbloom.”

You pulled up the picture you had taken of the sight, enjoying the laughter as they studied it. Just before you put your phone away, it buzzed with an incoming message.

Bre-Babe: Sorry girl! Work emergency. I´ll make it up toy you tomorrow!! Promise!!

You: No problem! G’Luck!!

“Well,” you said, drowning the last of your second mojito of the night, “Bre´s stuck at work so I guess I’ll get out of your hair. Thanks for being my creepy guy buffer. And for the drink and conversation.”

“You don´t have to go,” Jeremiah started.

“Yeah,” Sebastian started. “We only know number one on your hotel list.”

“If I stay, I’ll get drunk and Bre will make me go out again tomorrow. I’m on the wrong side of twenty-five to get drunk two nights in a row. Seriously though, thank you. And I hope to see some cool pictures of the Enchanted Highway on your Instagram, Sebastian.”

“At least let us walk you out to your car,” Sebastian insisted. “In case that creepy guy is still around.”

As you gathered your things, Jeremiah went to pay for the drinks. Sebastian helped you into your jacket. It was such an intimate, gentlemanly move that you were sure you were blushing.

And later when each man gave you a hug and kiss on the cheek?

Yeah, your cheeks were definitively flaming red.

~~~~~~~~

Three days later, you were scrolling through your Instagram feed when a photo of Kevin Bacon and Jeff Goldblum caught your eye.

@imsebastianstan: Since I didn´t request the candles, I have to tip more, right? #Baconbloom4life.

This couldn´t be real. He was just having fun. It wasn´t like the hour or so you´d spent with him meant he wanted to keep talking with you… right?

Your phone was halfway in your purse but you couldn´t bring yourself to let go.

“What if…”

Before you could chicken out, you unlocked your phone and typed a comment.

@livingbythelist: No chocolate strawberries in sight… too bad. Better luck on number 2 #teamgoldbacon.

#sebastian stan x reader #sebastian x reader #sebastian stan x reader fluff #sebastian x reader fluff #marvel fanfic

[levi-inthesun]

Awakening- Chapter 1

Summary: June (Juniper) works at the New York Public Library where she reads to kids once a week, otherwise she’s shelving books, checking out books for patrons, and catching the eye of one Steve Rogers. 

Authors note: this started out as a different story, but I didn’t like where it was going so I re-worked it and it became this! I wrote this probably a year ago- so I’m dusting it off, editing and finally posting so all of tumblr can read :)

You were already running late to your shift at the New York Public Library. Cursing to yourself quietly when the subway left without you. You had had a feeling you should have left earlier that day, but having anxiety about missing things like the train were rather normal. 

You mumbled under your breath, annoyed. Accepting your fate, you took in a few deep breaths and shot a text message to your boss letting them know you’d be late. Your anxiety threatening to take over so you practiced a few tools you have learned in your years of therapy.

One, is this in my control? No. 

Two, is there anything in my power I can do to change this? Besides texting my boss no, it will be quicker to catch the next train than to take a taxi.

Three, what are my choices? I can freak out and probably start sobbing in this very public place, or I can accept that what has happened has happened and do my best to let go.

For the remainder of the time you were in the station, you focused on your breathing and scrolled through social media to distract you. Every so often feeling the smooth beads on the long necklace you wore every day. 

Finally, the train arrived and you weren’t as late to work as you thought. You put your bag in your locker and stood in front of the mirror for a moment, adjusting your appearance. You had rushed out the door and your cat head-printed button-down was only partially tucked into your denim skirt. You tucked the necklace under your shirt and fixed your collar. Then you tucked flyaways into your braided crown until you were pleased. Scooting up your glasses from where they had fallen down to, you looked around the corner to the wall clock and checked the time.

“Damn!” you swore to yourself, it was 10:30 and you only had fifteen minutes until you were to read to a group of kids. You walked out to the floor and began shelving books. This month you were reading The Little Prince, one of your personal favorites, memorialized forever on your body as a small tattoo on your upper arm You also had a collection of wildflowers, branches, trees, and ferns on your arms, a small eye on the back of your neck. 

You gracefully put books back in their proper place, taking your time to gently feel the spine of each and look over the title. You loved shelving books even though most of your coworkers hated it. You felt closer to the books in the short intimate time you spent putting them away.

You began the reading like you always did, giving a quick summary of the book in a way that would get the kids into it to help quiet the chatter, and review what was read last week. As you read, they listened quietly, drawn in to the little boy in the middle of a vast desert. 

“And now here is my secret, a very simple secret: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.” You read the line slowly and gently touched the spot on your arm where the words were permanently at home. 

Turning the next page, you glanced at the children around you and the array of parents and passerbyers stopping to listen, intrigued with the words the Little Prince had just spoken. You caught the eyes of a tall, handsome man with the softest light blue eyes you’d ever seen. 

As you continued reading, you felt as if you were reading to the man with the blue eyes, your voice naturally flowing directly to him. 

The first chapter ended and you thanked everyone for coming, who then, in unison, thanked you for reading to them (including the man in the back). You encouraged everyone to come next week to find out more of the adventures the Little Prince had gone on and who he meets. 

Kids went to their parents or chatted with friends they had made there while you stood up, smoothing down your skirt and taking the book behind the front desk where the read-aloud books were kept. 

You saw the man glance your way again from the corner of your eye, rubbing the back of his neck as he stared at his phone, seemingly frustrated. 

You walked over to the man, getting his attention. “Excuse me, can I help you find anything?” you asked him with a polite smile.

“Uh yes!” he said quickly, “I’m looking for A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. I don’t come to libraries enough to fully understand how to find everything,” he said sheepishly. 

“That’s okay,” you said cheerfully, “there is always time to learn.” The man smiled widely at your comment. 

As you walked over to the correct section, you glanced over at the man and instantly realized why he looked familiar. Instead of fangirling, which part of you desperately wanted to do, you took in a deep breath and remained professional. You were used to celebrities and other well known people coming in.

You handed him the book and asked if there was anything else you could help him find.

“Actually yes… that book you were reading? Unfortunately, I won’t make it next week, but I am completely intrigued, even if it’s just a children's book.”

You looked at him, feigning shock.  “Only a children’s book? Sir!” you said placing a hand dramatically over your chest, “This book is not just a children’s book! I didn’t read it until after I got through college and it changed my damn life. So I will now ask you to take that back!” You exclaimed, tone playful.

“I take it back!” he responded laughing, hands up in truce. “I know we just met, but I was hoping maybe you can tell me more about it… over coffee?” he was smiling widely as he asked and you felt a spark ignited within you that had been gone far too long. 

Instead of answering, you led him to the check out station, smiling at the ground trying to hide your blush. While you were checking his books out, he looked away nervously, so he didn’t notice you scribble something on the receipt, then stick in just inside the cover for The Little Prince.

You spent the rest of your shift very, very distracted at the thought of going out for coffee with Steve Rogers.

When Steve got home later that evening, he was still thinking about you. How cute you looked in your button up that he could have sworn had little cat heads all over it and your denim skirt. How into reading the book you were, your trance only broken when you spotted him, even still you quickly got back into it. Steve felt like he may be going crazy, but it felt as if you were just reading to him. Your melodic voice carried over the group of kids and straight into his heart. Remembering the books he had stowed in his bag, he pulled them out setting A Tree Grows in Brooklyn down on the counter and picking up The Little Prince. He opened it up to see your messy cursive on the receipt with a phone number.

Call me when you finish :) - June 

Then, for the first time in this century (probably), Steve Rogers did a happy dance as his heart was ignited with hope. After he regained control of himself, he immediately dove into the book reading until early morning when he reluctantly put it down to get at least a few hours of sleep, where he dreamt of a boy and his rose, a pilot and a fox.

Steve woke to the sound of a very unwelcome alarm, he shut it off and slowly sat up, looking out the large windows of his room in the Avengers Compound, watching as the sun rose in the sky, spilling hues of orange, pink and purple over the sky. He got dressed and left for his daily run, making it back in record time just so he could read the rest of the book. 

You were shocked when you got a phone call later that day, the voice saying they finished the book and was wondering when you would be free to meet up for coffee. 

Before you could stop yourself, you blurted out, “I’m free now.”

The voice answered much too quickly, making you feel a little less embarrassed. “Yes! Do you have a favorite spot to get coffee?” “Believe it or not, it’s right by the library. Meet me there in an hour and a half?” “Can’t wait, doll.”

As soon as you hung up, you looked down at your outfit of choice on this lazy day off. Sweatpants and a shirt with actual, non-ironic holes throughout. You booked it to your closet and allowed yourself 10 minutes to stress out about what the hell you were going to wear to your date with Steve freaking Rogers, finally settling on a pair of your favorite high waisted jeans and a loose tank top tucked in with a pair of sandals. You added a pair of stud earrings and put your hair into a low bun, that way if he was dressed up, you wouldn’t be too casual, and vice versa. 

You had time to spare, but figured it wouldn’t hurt to be early. You popped your earbuds in and started listening to your Beatles playlist, making your way to the Subway Station. The ride went smoothly and thankfully no one bothered you. Once you got to the library, you sat on the steps by one of the lion statues and basked in the early fall sunshine, only closing your eyes for a second, soaking it all in when you felt a tap on your shoulder. Readying yourself to politely tell some rando to leave you alone, you were surprised to see Steve, 10 minutes early. “Hi!” you yelled, cringing when you realized your volume. You quickly turned off your music and stuffed your phone and headphones into your bag. 

“You know, you are gonna lose your hearing if you listen to music that loud,” he said chuckling. You rolled your eyes playfully. “By the way, Ob-la-di is a good choice.” he smiled, and you thought that that is something you could easily get used to. 

Then his face altered, annoyed as he looked past you. It looked like he was trying to make someone go away with a nod of his head. You looked up at him confused.

“Ah, sorry. My friends,” he said pointing to the group of extremely familiar-looking men and women, “they didn’t believe me when I said I was going on a date.” He shrugged.

You giggled and gave the group a flirty finger wave. They waved back before running off. “Well, shall we go ingest liquid gold sustenance?” you asked.

“Yes, lead the way,” he replied as he held out his arm for you. You tried to hold in the smile and blush that suddenly appeared on your face, but there was no fighting it. 

Just a few blocks away, Steve opened the door to the cafe and followed you inside.

“Hi Maria,” you said fondly as you approached the counter.

“Juni!” she called back happily as she took her position behind the register, “I thought you had the day off today?” she asked as she already started putting your order in.

“I do,” you said with an almost dreamy sigh, “I’m here for fun,” you said, motioning to the tall man with you. “Oh, yes you are.” She stated, winking at you, “And what can I get for you?” 

You tried not to giggle when he ordered an americano. 

You found some seats in the corner, grateful that the cafe was normally pretty empty around 4.  Once settled, Steve pulled out the copy of The Little Prince he had borrowed from the library, as well as a notebook filled with notes. You smiled and pulled out your well worn, well-loved, very marked personal copy. Maria brought your coffees over and winked again, mouthing ‘hot damn!’ to you before Steve could notice. 

Another round of pink heat spread over your cheeks.

“So, I just realized we never actually introduced ourselves.” You said, knowing full well you both knew you knew his name.

“How rude of me,” he said with a playful tone, “I’m Steve.” “Good to meet you, Steve,” you say as you both shake hands once and let go, “Most people call me June, but my name is Juniper.”

“Juniper… that’s really cool. Would you mind if that is what I call you?” he asked, eyebrows raised in questioning.

You smiled, “Most people think it’s too weird or hippy-ish, which isn’t too far off. So yes, I would love that actually.” 

“What do you mean it isn’t too far off? And why is there anything wrong with being too hippy-ish?” he asked, confused.

“Well, I grew up on the west coast. My parents were very much minimalists. We had a garden full of fruits, veggies, and herbs. We spent so much time out there together. I actually loved gardening and had a booth at our local farmers market and preferred spending time with my parents and my dog, and a lot of my friends stopped inviting me out, deeming I was ‘odd’ and a ‘straight-up hippy’,” you rolled your eyes and chuckled at how silly the whole thing was. “Anyways, there is nothing wrong with being too much of a hippy,” you said smiling, “I learned how to embrace it,” you shrugged.

Steve smiled at you and took a sip of his drink before responding, “Sounds like you didn’t have very good friends,” he commented sadly.

“Learned that one much too late,” you say as you take a drink yourself.  “What about your parents, friends growing up?” 

“Well, my best friend growing up was James- we all called him Bucky, except his mom when she was angry with him for doing something stupid-” he paused for a second before adding, “it was usually my ideas that got us into trouble.” He shook his head as a memory replied in his mind. “But my mom was my entire world. When she died, it felt like a piece of me died with her…”

“I’m so sorry,” you replied. Steve searched your face, but only found a genuine warmth and caring. 

“Thanks, uh, yeah so then Bucky’s mom basically adopted me and we got into even more trouble… we definitely gave her a run for her money.”

You chuckled at the idea of him running around causing trouble. 

After you both took another drink, you dove right into the book, pointing out favorite parts, what was personally identified with, as well as some questions Steve had had. One of your favorite parts was hearing about his relationships. “So the fox… honestly, it sounds very much like Bucky. I already mentioned how close we were,  but eventually, our paths took us separate ways before reuniting, and... well he was extremely different. He had gone through some really terrible things, things I cannot even begin to imagine, when we were finally together again, it took a lot of work on both of our parts… like he was reluctant to be tamed, he didn’t want to get hurt again. It took a while, but now we are even stronger than we were before. It’s like we are tamed to each other, haha.” Steve realized he was getting more personal than he had anticipated and felt a little awkward.

“That is beautiful,” you said quietly, causing a little smile to appear on Steve’s lips. 

His favorite part was just watching your eyes light up anytime one of the things he brought up was something you loved about the book as well. You were so passionate about this one children’s book and it was like it opened up a whole new place in his heart. 

Hours later, your coffees were cold and barely touched, but there you sat, his hand gently resting on yours from across the table. The conversation had led to other favorite books, which you both had given each other quite the list to look into. Then you both talked about the things that made you happy.

You adored the days it rained. You felt like it was washing the city and yourself clean and the way people’s faces light up when they talk about something they’re passionate about. Steve loved the peace that watching the sunset over the city brought him, everything quiet and still. He also loved watching people as they read or watch movies, “You can see anything you need to know about a person,” he had said. 

Eventually, Maria came up to let you know they were closing. You blushed slightly and apologized to your friend, who hushed your fears. 

“Do you own any of the books on your list?” Steve asked, hurriedly as you walked down the street, “I would be honored to be able to read your personal copy of even just one, get a look inside your head a little more,” Steve said, a light blush threatening to take over.

You smiled widely, “In fact, I own all of the books on my list. I live in Brooklyn though, so if it is out of the way I can always bring a few next time I see you?”

There were two things about your statement that excited Steve beyond belief. 1. You lived in Brooklyn. 2. You wanted to see him again.

“I happen to love Brooklyn, it’s no problem at all unless you would be more comfortable oth-” You cut him off. “Honestly, I would love for you to come over and be impressed at my massive book collection.” 

 It was settled and Steve held out his arm for you again as you both chatted aimlessly as you walked to the subway station. It was late on a Saturday, so the train was noisy with talking from people going to or from parties and clubs. You pulled out your earbuds and handed him one as you plug them into your phone, putting the other in your own ear. You clicked on another one of your favorite playlists, hitting shuffle. The first song was a favorite by Noah and the Whale, The First Days of Spring. As the 45-minute train ride continued, you could feel your hand take a life of its own as it inched closer to Steve’s, which rested on the seat next to yours. The anticipation of holding his hand was practically killing you, so when Steve closed the distance you felt relief, as well as a pleasant tingle, wash over you. 

Once you worked up the confidence, you rested your head on his shoulder… more like arm with his height compared to yours, but it was nice all the same, and Steve melted towards you. 

Once your stop came you stood up and pulled Steve along until you were walking side by side. Music was stopped and put away, you both walked in a comfortable silence to your apartment building hand in hand.

You watched as Steve looked around with an almost sadness as you walked the streets of Brooklyn. Of course, you knew of his history, everyone did, but you would wait until he was ready to bring it up. Just because you knew what books told you about what happened didn’t mean it was the whole story, or that you had a right to know.

Suddenly Steve stopped in front of a  building that was crumbling to the ground.

Steve couldn’t believe it was still here. The last time he had the opportunity to be in Brooklyn inconspicuously he hadn’t been able to find it. Yet, now, on his way to the apartment of one of the most beautiful, witty, honest and intelligent women he’d met since Peggy, was his childhood home. Where he spent his entire life sick, trying to stand up for himself but always being saved by Bucky. And suddenly, he was that tiny person again and felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude as well as the feeling of being undeserving to have you holding his hand. A tear slipped through and he prayed you wouldn’t notice. Instead, he felt your kindness through a simple hand squeeze. He took a few deep breaths and decided it was time to keep moving. 

You continued leading him to your apartment and unlocked it. Before you opened the door you smiled at him mischievously.

“Now, I have spent a long time working on my book collection. If for some reason it isn’t impressive, you have to pretend it is otherwise whatever this,” you motioned between the two you, “could have been, isn’t happening.” Steve nodded in agreement, “You got it doll.” 

You blushed slightly, biting your lip as you turned around and opened the door, letting him in.

What Steve then saw was incredible. You had hundreds of what seemed to be carefully selected books, shelved neatly throughout your entire, albeit small, apartment. You watched as Steve walked around, mouth hanging wide open, staring at the shelves on shelves and shelves of books. He then turned to you, mouth still open, and held out his arms motioning to it all with wide eyes.

“Okay, okay, you didn’t have to try so hard to make me feel like you were impressed, it’s okay. Appreciated though.” You smiled genuinely, even though you were trying to tease.

“Oh, well okay then.” Steve playfully rolled his eyes before grinning at you. 

You both stood there looking at each other for what felt like a few beats too long, so you blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “I like ice cream. Do you want some?” Before waiting for him to respond you walked over to the freezer to pull out the tubs of ice cream you had and two spoons. “Uh yeah, I could go for some ice cream.” Steve walked over, noticing there weren’t any bowls.

Seeing his confusion, you explained, “It is more fun to eat it out of the container unless you’re afraid of germs or whatever,” you shrugged, hoping he didn’t think it was weird.

“Sounds good to me.” He replied, grabbing a spoon and the pint of mint chocolate chip. You grabbed the other, moose tracks and headed for the couch.

You sat together on the couch eating ice cream and reading. Steve, the second one on your list of favorites (since The Little Prince was number one), and you one of his that you happened to have. 

Periodically, Steve would look up from the book and watch as you were sucked in by the words. He could see every little reaction you had, every vulnerable moment when what the book was saying rang true for you.

He sighed as he turned back to the book in his hands- This is something he certainly could get used to.

#Steve Rogers x OC #Steve Rogers Fanfiction #Steve Rogers #Steve Rogers Fanfic #Avengers Fanfiction #Awakening #Fluff

[determinedbuns]

sd★*･ questions addressed to your muse.

“Shall we begin?”

▌WHAT IS YOUR REAL NAME?  

❝Bethany Olivia Ingrid Anne Koraline the Fourth!❞

▌WHAT IS YOUR /REAL/ NAME?

❝... Oh good, one of those questionnaires. My true name varies, I would be loathe to call myself by the name of that scoundrel, but our true name is Lynth, though I would rather consider myself seperate so please, let us proceed with Bethany...❞

▌DO YOU KNOW WHY YOU WERE CALLED THAT?

❝It’s an elaborate callback to one of our previous identities. One that is no longer with us, whether they melded into him or I remains elusive to us, nor does it seem to be a concern for us. That name was Blink. Bethany oLivia Ingrid aNne Koraline. That was the name that was given to this face, and I’ve taken it along with my consciousness. ‘The Fourth’ part of my name was only a superficial addition that He haphazardly... slapped on, as they say, to make himself sound important I assume.❞

▌ARE YOU SINGLE OR TAKEN?

❝I’m anything but single, you can simply ask that one Doll.❞

▌HAVE ANY ABILITIES OR POWERS?

❝My innate abilities involve shapeshifting our body into near limitless shapes, sizes, and colors. We are of an ancient race of shapeshifters who have gone nigh-extinct thanks to Oliver. As for the full extent of our abilities, we carry ancient knowledge of arcane arts that reaches beyond the boundaries of the universe. Magicks stemming from various worlds are ours to command, provided we carry the resources and energy necessary to carry out these spells and incantations. Unfortunately, our minds are fragmented and shattered, like a prized vault spilling errantly into the coffers of desperate patrons who have little control over what they are given save for... special exceptions. But I suppose to give you all a frame of reference, I am versed in the art of elemental magic, summons, and transmogrification. ❞

▌WHAT’S YOUR EYE COLOUR?

❝I have given myself a bright Cyan color. I believe they are distinct, and a vast contrast from the other’s gaudy red.❞

▌HOW ABOUT YOUR HAIR COLOUR?

❝An imperfect blonde, I could make it just about any color I please, but this is what I would prefer... Bright, but flawed, imperfect, lost of radiance...❞

▌HAVE YOU ANY FAMILY MEMBERS?

❝I did, Samga was among them. They were not family by blood, mind you, but they were of my kin nonetheless. You’ve probably heard of this type of familial bond a hundred times by now on this blog.❞

▌OH? WHAT ABOUT PETS?

❝I had one in the past. It was a Canine, it was hard to tell whether it was a hound or a wolf from how thick his fur was. This was during my time caring for Ikirin. He was... a good boy. Such a lovely and loyal assistant, the first friend I was greeted to upon acquiring my first semblance of ego. The other took to calling him an asset, a tool, and nothing more... T’was how we had come to adopt this canine in the first place. We were close, until my first act of insubordination cost him his life. I suppose my fondness stayed, even long past his death.❞

▌THAT’S COOL, I GUESS. NOW TELL ME ABOUT SOMETHING YOU DON’T LIKE.

❝What shall I start first? My complicated existence? My counterpart? I could go on for several moons with that one. Oh! Why don’t we speak on how many backs I’ve been forced to stab to preserve the victim’s lives? How many friendships I’ve broken? How many families I’ve torn apart? You’ve already forced me to reopen such old wounds afterall!...❞ She clears her throat and takes on a more stoic look and tone.

❝My apologies, bringing up Cornelius is not a topic I enjoy. Let us continue.❞

▌DO YOU HAVE ANY HOBBIES/ACTIVITIES YOU LIKE TO DO?

❝Ah, much better! I dabble in fashion design, and my ear for music is not to be underestimated! I can play the Violin and Piano quite well, if I say so myself. However, my truly favorite past time is Book-binding. It relaxes me, and watching the ancient, decrepit tomes of yore be resurrected in their full glory before my eyes and by my hands fills me with accomplishment few things can match. I do not use magic to renew these tomes, mind you. It is both a precaution, and a preference; foreign aether can alter, damage, or even remove the innate magic held within an enchanted text.❞

▌EVER HURT ANYONE BEFORE?

❝---And right back into the undesirables. I’ll keep them brief. Yes, I’ve hurt people, I’ve hurt a great deal of people. More than I can count.❞

▌EVER KILLED ANYONE BEFORE?

❝Yes.❞

▌WHAT KIND OF ANIMAL ARE YOU?

❝I am of the Lapine kind, appearance-wise. A Rabbit, but as I stated before, I could be practically anything.❞

▌NAME SOME OF YOUR WORST HABITS.

❝While in deep thought, I tend to twist the ends of my ears around my finger, that is why they are how you see them; the tips have turned skyward. By the nature of my existence, I tend to turn to deception in order to keep others safe, but would that be considered a habit? Perhaps my worst habit is wasting resources on trivial matters if only to... make things more entertaining for myself. Maybe one example would be dramatic entrances.❞

▌DO YOU LOOK UP TO ANYONE AT ALL?

❝That is a good question, I do look up to few... very few... But I shan’t say who~❞

▌GAY, STRAIGHT, OR BISEXUAL?

❝Why not Pansexual? My preferences have hardly any boundaries~❞

▌DO YOU GO TO SCHOOL?

❝I suppose you could say that. I, or rather... Oliver did attend Medical School, though it was moreso on a whim, but I retained the knowledge as a result, making me the Doctor you see today. I suppose if you consider ‘Teaching’ going to school as well, I homeschooled young Ikirin.❞

▌DO YOU EVER WANT TO MARRY AND HAVE KIDS ONE DAY?

❝I.. never had time to think on that, the thoughts of my future usually retain to securing my own self.❞

▌DO YOU HAVE ANY FANBOYS/FANGIRLS?

▌WHAT ARE YOU MOST AFRAID OF?

❝... Disappearing into his mind and soul before I could escape.❞

▌WHAT DO YOU USUALLY WEAR?

❝My trademark Doctor’s Coat, with a black vest beneath and a jeweled collar around my neck. Beyond that, nothing more unless I feel like turning some heads.❞

▌DO YOU LOVE SOMEONE?

❝That one doll, though I still.. hold feelings for Ane, even if I have given up hope of being with her again.❞

▌WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU WET YOURSELF?

❝ I needn’t hear of your dark fantasies.❞

▌WHAT CLASS ARE YOU?

❝If you mean my wage class, I’m afraid I do not know exactly what I would fall into. Mayhaps middle, or low. To introduce myself to a fortune conjured of magic would sow the seeds of chaos through ridiculously inflated income on any society I base myself in.❞

❝Now if you mean to ask my class in a more Role-like setting, you may refer to me as a Healer, a Medic, a Doctor, or maybe even a Chemist or Scholar depending on the contexts of the setting.❞

▌HOW MANY FRIENDS DO YOU HAVE?

❝As of now, I’m afraid I... don’t exactly know. With Samga now losing his favor towards me, I may be down to only one, lest one takes into account that sweet orange child I had cared for, and his friend.❞

▌WHAT ARE YOUR THOUGHTS ON PIE?

❝I prefer Banana-Cream, if I may be so bold.❞

▌FAVOURITE DRINK?

❝A calming chamomile, some livening green tea, all tea serves a purpose and all tea is good.❞

▌WHAT’S YOUR FAVOURITE PLACE?

❝There is a place in Galvania where the stars meet the earth and there is naught but the purest of Aether circulating through the lush environment. Even the air itself renews one’s lungs, it is my favorite place to meditate both for how relaxing it is and how efficient my meditation becomes.❞

▌ARE YOU INTO SOMEONE~?

❝Will thee waste thy time with repeated questions?❞

▌WOULD YOU RATHER SWIM IN THE LAKE OR IN THE OCEAN?

❝I much prefer the ocean. The lake, more often than not, is dirty while the ocean’s waves glisten with a cerulean blue that reflects the moonlight in the most dazzling of ways.❞

▌WHAT’S YOUR TYPE?

❝I favor the charmingly naive, but I also have a soft spot for those who share my dramatic flair.❞

▌CAMPING OR INDOORS? 

❝Indoors, for the outside has little care for preferences in temperature and decor. You have much more control over your surroundings without needing to resort to copious amounts of  magic.❞

TAGGED BY:  Nobody! I stole this from @sternenteile

TAGGING: @slicinghood @a-caveofmuses @integrous-restoration @forgetfulintegrity @shattered-oath @demonspectacles

#Bunmun does a Meme #Medicbun #About Medicbun

[centaurianthropology]

The Magnus Archives ‘Left Hanging’ (S04E04) Analysis

An episode about the open sky, an Archivist at loose ends, and the return of everyone’s favorite wacky old wizard.  Definitely less happening this week, but still quite a bit to think about.  Come on in to hear my thoughts about ‘Left Hanging’.

One of the interesting things about the opening of the statement is the emphasis of a theme of this show: there is nothing special about the people who get targeted by the powers, usually.  They haven’t often done something to draw attention; they aren’t some Chosen One.  They’re people at the wrong place in the wrong time. I think that feeds into the heart of the cosmic horror of the show: people are small.  Who they are and what they’ve done don’t matter to the powers. They were the nearest person to hand when ineffability strikes, and they therefore experience something horrific. Horror, therefore, is not a retributive force in TMA, nor is it an allegory for something about that person. It is random, hitting good people, bad people, and all the people in between without discrimination.  If the powers do indeed ‘make decisions’ the way that we perceive, those decisions are beyond our understanding.

So we have statements like this, of a guy why just happened to be on the wrong cable car in Austria. A cable car with everyone’s favorite wacky wizard, Simon Fairchild.  As soon as I heard ‘gentle amusement’ and using his walking stick only when he remembered to do so, combined with a cable car suspended miles above the ground? Yeah, I was certain that Simon was going to put in an appearance.

Again, they are above nothingness, and a mist appears, and Simon steps out into nothingness.  Big old wink, and then gone.  Does this mean that Simon is gone, or did he simply go somewhere temporary?  Did he finally find the Vast beings he was looking for?  After that, the rest of them shot up through the nothingness, so it’s possible that Simon actually set them up for their ride, and he was stepping off to let them enjoy themselves.  That seems more his modus operandi.

Especially since a long, spindly creature with a laugh like Mike Crews’ took the cable car driver. It makes me think that this was just another adventure that Simon engineered for hapless people he just happens to be around.  And Simon, much like the powers, will ‘gift’ these experiences to people.

Jon states that Simon is ‘evil’ and likes to torment people to feed the power that sustains him, but that seems less than clear from Simon’s actions.  I do genuinely wonder if Simon might think that he’s giving these people the experience of their lifetimes.  That this is a good thing, not a cruel thing.  That letting them experience the void will be as joyous for them as it is for him.  It’s hard to say, but he never seems … malicious in his glee.  He seems like he’s sharing a joke that everyone he harms just haven’t quite understood.

Or that could just be me, the massive Simon Fairchild fangirl that I am, reading something into the situation that isn’t there.  But I think Jon needs to believe that there is that clear distinction.  That Simon is malicious and evil, and therefore knows that he’s harming people.  Because if he doesn’t know, or even if he thinks it’s doing his victims a favor, then mightn’t Jon do the same?  After all, they’re both Avatars of their powers.  Jon knows that taking statements drags at least some part of his own victims into the nightmare realm of the Beholding.  But he keeps doing it.  At least he doesn’t think he’s helping the people he’s gathering statements from; at least not yet.

But of course, his objection to Compelling Basira was that he didn’t want to burn a bridge, not that it would be the wrong thing to do or hurt a friend, so that’s less than encouraging.

The ending with Martin also really fit into the title of this particular one.  Whatever is happening with Martin, he either won’t or can’t tell Jon about it.  He sounds so distant, barely more engaged with Jon than Basira was.  And for someone weeping in the trailer before making his decision, that’s worrisome.

It’s interesting that Martin implied strongly that he wasn’t working for Peter Lukas (although calling him ‘Peter’ probably didn’t do anything to help Jon’s jealousy).  There’s clearly something going on.  Martin’s been so busy that he has no time to write poetry, or to stop and really talk with Jon.  Maybe he’s afraid.  Maybe he’s been forbidden from really talking to Jon.

I definitely think that what’s happening with Martin and what Basira is up to are going to be ongoing themes, perhaps even the main plot points of the first half of the season. It’s frustrating, because they all know that Peter works for the Lonely, and therefore is trying to isolate everyone in the Institute.  And yet none of them, even those who seem to not be locked into some secret agreement, are going out of their way to stay in touch.  Maybe Basira and Melanie have been sticking together, but from the way that Basira talked about Melanie, that seems less likely.  Unless, of course, she doesn’t trust Jon enough to let him know what she and Melanie are up to.

But it leaves Jon exactly where the Lonely wants him.  He’s isolated, reading statements and doing little else.  With the threat of other powers trying to make a move against the newly-awakened Archivist, I doubt he’s leaving much either.  Martin would be the ideal person for him to turn to, given their history, but Martin has somehow been removed from the equation while still being there.

And interestingly, Jon didn’t compel him.  Of all the times when compelling a friend might be both justified and useful to all parties, this might be it, but Jon is handling his friends with kid gloves. Likely, Melanie’s state and her open hostility have taken him aback, and he doesn’t want to make things any worse with Martin or Basira.  So they’re all in a holding pattern (without the holding).

I want to know why Basira no longer trusts Jon at all.  Is it simply thinking he couldn’t have come back right after six months?  Is it blaming him for Daisy?  Is she just too troubled by whatever’s really going on with her to look too far outside herself?

Conclusions

The emotional situation in the Archives never seems to be anything better than tenuous, and as I said often enough through the past few seasons, this current state can’t stay for long.  There are too many threads about to snap.  Basira feels like the calm before the storm.  Melanie is going to explode in one direction or another, it’s just a question of what’s in her way when she does.  And Martin is keeping secrets.  A lot of secrets, likely because he believes it’s the only way to help Jon and the others.  And if he’s not working for Peter Lukas, I have to wonder what it is he’s doing.  It’s clearly with Peter, but perhaps it’s more of a loan or secondment?  A pledge of time in Peter’s service in exchange for the protection that the archives is now afforded?  Or is Martin more active than we realize?  Does he have a plan of his own?

We’ve been with Jon while he was plotting and planning throughout the show, so it’s interesting to see Jon on the other side of this impenetrable wall that six months of trauma has produced.  He can’t even pick up the pieces, because the pieces are nowhere near where he left them. Everyone has radically changed toward him.

As big a dick as Elias was, I may hate the Lonely more.  With Elias, we knew what he was about.  He wanted Jon to be the ultimate Archivist, and he wanted the Watcher’s Crown to proceed as planned.  But the Lonely’s motives are inscrutable, and without more information, Jon’s stuck. He needs to dig into the Archives, to try and find stories about the Lukases or their patrons and how he might oust the Lonely from the Institute.  

He already sounds defeated. He’s not interested in looking into this current story beyond a cursory glance.  He’s not interested in putting all the pieces together, which to my mind is the ultimate point of the Archivist.  He just reads and feeds his god by rote, without anything more.

Maybe that’s Peter’s plan. Immobilize Jon, remove all his supports and sink him so far into depression that he reads the statements and doesn’t try to research his way out of the problem.  That sort of inert feeding of the Beholding might actually be the most effective way to prevent the Watcher’s Crown, at least for a time.

But like I said, the situation is tenuous.  Something, sooner or later, is going to give.

#The Magnus Archives #analysis

[saxxxology]

puppet (crimson king)

Sam plays with his favorite puppet.

PAIRING: King of Hell!Sam x Reader

WARNINGS: smut, bondage (female), orgasm denial, dub-con only if you read fast and skip around

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Sam likes ropes. The coarse feel of them in his hands. The indentation the fibers leave on your creamy skin. The way they snap dully in thick, lust-heated air. 

Tonight he’s got you strung up in them, tied to his bed, one limb to a bedpost. He’s using softer ones this time, ones that only get tighter as you struggle. You’re naked, blindfolded, legs spread wide to expose wet, quivering flesh. He could keep you immobile with just his mind, but he likes the reality of your bonds. 

You’re like a puppet, doing whatever he wants as he pleases.

You’ve been like this for a long time—hours, it feels like. You can hear the soft click of his shoes on the stone floor, and the anticipation is making your heart flutter in your chest. The heat between your legs is at a low simmer; Sam likes to build until you’re desperate, then hold off on giving you what you want, but he’s taking longer than normal. 

“My Lord,” you try. 

“Hmm?”

You take a shuddering breath. “What are you doing?” 

He keeps staring down at your body as you reflexively roll your hips towards the ebb of heat he’s kept between your legs for the better part of an hour. “Playing with my toy. Why? Do you want to stop?”

You shake your head, a slow loll from side to side. “No.”

He smirks. “Good. Do you think I would?”

He would stop, and you know it. He says things like that to get under your skin, put you on edge. He only hurts you when you want him to, when he knows the pain will be enjoyed and he can listen to you screaming “yes” and his name over and over again. 

If he really hurt you, or if he crossed a line, he’d never forgive himself. 

He hears the skip of your heart, smells the warmth in the air as your blood runs hot. Oh, he’d love a taste of it, just to get that little kick that heightens his senses.

But no. He’ll remain sober this time. 

“So eager to please.” He runs a finger up the inside of your thigh, watching bumps rise on your skin. Your leg trembles reflexively, and you let out a shaky breath through your nose as his finger reaches the crux of your leg, between firm muscle and the soft wet flesh of your labia. “Such a good little slut.”

The throbbing between your legs intensifies, tendrils of heat snaking out and wrapping around the most sensitive parts of your body. It’s too much too fast, and you’re immediately greedy for more.

“That feels so good,” you whimper, head tipping back, “please... more.”

“Hmmm… you did complete everything I asked of you earlier.” Sam’s deliberately stretching the temptation as you writhe and twitch under the force of his pleasure. 

“I did,” you cover eagerly, “I did so good, didn’t I? I was good for you…”

A dark chuckle makes your skin prickle. Sam never laughs unless he plans on tormenting you to your wildest limits. 

“Maybe you do deserve a treat,” he ponders, “or do you… no, I don’t think you do.” He cuts off your whine of frustration with a light slap on your bare mound that makes you nearly jump off the mattress. “I should use you first. Make your cunt good and sloppy before I let you cum.”

You chew your lower lip, a deep groan leaving your throat. “Anything… anything for you.”

His clothes are gone with a snap of his fingers. The bed dips, and you shiver when his hands cave the soft bedding on either side of your shoulders. You can’t see him, but you know he’s close, just hovering over you, knowing the sheer closeness is putting you on edge. He could have his knife, planning where he’s gonna trail it over your skin, where he’s gonna press hard enough for you to feel the sting. 

The blunt, firm heat at your entrance draws your attention away, and you hold your breath as he sinks in, seating deep with a heavy grunt of pleasure. Your fingers curl into the sheets, and when the bed shifts you know that Sam’s sitting back, watching your pussy stretched around his cock. 

“That looks so pretty.” His hands run up the insides of your thighs. “Such a beautiful sight.”

You shudder under his touch as his cock gives a hard throb inside you. “You’re so big, Sam… I… fuck…”

Uncontrollably, you squeeze him tight, bearing down to try and get yourself that final nudge you need to cum, but Sam doesn’t let you get very far. 

“No.” He presses down between your hips, forcing you to stay still as he pulls back, the slide of his cock making you whine loudly. “You’re getting ahead of yourself. Do I have to make it hurt?”

Shaking your head, you manage a breathless gasp. “No… just feels good…”

He smirks, his upper lip curling into a snarl as he shoves himself in so deep and hard your vision blurs. “You cum before I’ve given you permission and you’re gonna really regret it.”

“I won’t,” you pant, “I promise I won’t, my King… I’m yours.”

Sam grins wickedly. “That’s right.”

Your squeal of pleasure cuts off when he starts rutting into you, hard, fast, hips slamming against your ass so hard you know your skin will be black and blue. 

“Look at you,” he growls, hands on your tits as you bounce on the mattress, “all fucking strung out like the little whore you are.”

He swallows your long, drawn-out moan with a brutal kiss. You thrash underneath him, forced to the edge of an orgasm that refuses to come. Sam doesn’t stop, even when your pussy chenches tight and slicks his cock with a wet, hot burst. Your whimpers turn into cries, then sobs. To any passers by, one might assume that Sam’s doing the worst, but little would they know that you love every single bit of what he gives you. 

Sam doesn’t last very long. He’s been pent up all day and he’s been playing with you for too long. You feel it before anything else, the stiff jerking of his hips and the shudder of the mattress as his hands clench tight on either side of your shoulders. He cums with a loud, gasping groan, thrusting wildly until you feel his seed begin to drip out, making a mess between your legs and staining the comforter underneath you. 

He pulls out with a soft huff, watching his release pour from your body. You’re shaking, tears flowing freely from your eyes, and when he runs a thumb experimentally over your clit you writhe, too sensitive for his touch.

“That’s what I love to see,” he coos, running his hands up the insides of your thighs. “What a good girl… I think you deserve it, now.”

You nod frantically, breath hitching. “Please, I just—”

Your words cut off when he slides back in, still hard and throbbing. Sam chuckles, holding a hand over your clit and focusing his energy exactly where you need it. “Don’t let me stop you,” he directs, “I want to hear it.”

You don’t even make it a full minute. The hot pulsing on your clit is too much to handle, and your entire body vibrates with the force of your climax as it finally crashes through your body. Sam has to hold your hips in place with his free hand, and you let out a sob of his name when you hit the peak before letting go and giving in to the pleasure. 

He works you through it, letting the pleasure he controls ebb away until you’re numb and his cock slips free. The mess and sweat is gone with a snap, and your bonds come loose. He pulls you into his arms, rolling onto his side and planting a gentler kiss on your lips. 

“I’ll never tire of you,” he murmurs affectionately. “I chose right with you… my pretty little vixen.”

You hum, trying to bring something remotely coherent to your tongue as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. “I’ll always serve you, my King,” you stutter, “anything you ever want, I’ll give it to you.”

He pats your hip, eyebrows raised in appreciation. His lips meet yours in a deeper, more passionate kiss, and you sigh when he fills his hands with your ass and tugs you even closer.

“That’s my puppet.”

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#the crimson king #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester reader insert #sam winchester fanfiction

[whumpdoyoumean]

I’VE COMPLETED MY FIRST BINGO SQUARE!!! @badthingshappenbingo

Happy birthday @the-whumpy-fangirl and thank you for the request!

Prompt: Coughing up blood; Fandom: Firefly; Whumpee: Simon

Read it on Ao3 here or down below!

If a fight breaks out, Simon is to either get out of the building or find someplace to stand where it’s unlikely he’ll catch a fist or an elbow or a pool cue. That’s always been the rule, unspoken because Simon really isn’t one who needs to be told to avoid senseless violence and because frankly, he can’t fight worth shit.

So it’s a surprise to everyone when he boards the Serenity with a facefull of blood and bruises, one arm draped around Jayne’s shoulder, the other curled around his ribs. He looks miserable, humiliated, and fed-up, all rolled into a single expression that would be less amusing if not for the fact that it’s paired with Jayne’s broad smile.

Kaylee wears a look of shock, eyes huge and eyebrows high. Book looks worried for a moment before saying something no one hears and hurrying off, presumably to the infirmary or to find River or both. Zoe looks unimpressed.

Wash snorts and says in a loud whisper, “I can’t wait to hear this one.”

And Mal, well he just glares at Jayne. “What in the tien shiao duh did you do to my medic?”

“Well, that’s the thing, see,” Jayne says, and his grin grows wider, bordering on gleeful. “He started it!”

xxx a few hours earlier

The thing about surviving an encounter with someone like Jubal Early is that the things that used to seem intimidating or dangerous suddenly don’t. Simon has a scar on his leg to remind him every day that he’d danced with the devil, and he’d come out of it (mostly) intact. And what are drunk, pissed off idiots compared to the devil?

It’s with this mindset that Simon decides to explore Aberdeen, despite its being, as Jayne so eloquently put it, “colder’n a witch’s tit.” His leg hadn’t allowed him to actually leave during shoreleave the last several times they landed, so it’s been weeks since he left the ship. He’s going stir-crazy, and he’s not sure he can make it til the next port. So, he’ll brave the cold.

He digs through his chest until he finds the tailored coat he has folded up in the bottom--a gray, knee-length, double-breasted thing that’s no doubt going to make him stick out like a sore thumb. He pulls it on and is surprised at how familiar and almost comfortable the weight of it is, despite his not having worn it in years. The feeling goes sour though, as all thoughts of what used be home do, and he quickly pushes them down, as he always does.

He does some quick stretches for his leg before peeking into his sister’s bunk. “Hey, River?” He peeks around the door and sighs. Of course she isn’t there. Which means she’s probably in the mess, or Kaylee’s room, or maybe the Shepherd’s (assuming she’s not just wandering around). He heads for the mess first, calling out for her as he goes and checking each room he passes. There’s no sign of her, until he hears the faint sound of her laugh mixing with the rest of the crew. It makes him smile, and he steps a little faster.

“River! I-” He rounds the corner into the mess, and the room falls silent. A quick look around reveals a lot of raised eyebrows and smothered smiles as they take in the sight of him in his coat.

Mal finally says, “What are you all dressed up for?” and his voice is tight with contained laughter, which quickly isn’t contained anymore, and Jayne joins in.

“Alright, alright,” Simon says, not even attempting to hide his annoyance at once again becoming the laughingstock of the ship.

“I think it looks nice,” Kaylee says. “It’s just so...so rich-looking is all. More than usual even.”

Mal wipes at his eye and sighs. “Really, though, what are you doing? ‘Cus she’s right, that’s a mighty fancy coat to be wearing someplace like Aberdeen.”

“It’s the warmest thing I have,” Simon says, trying not to sound defensive. “And I’m going for a walk because I need to get off this ship. It’s been weeks and I could use the exercise.”

Mal nods toward Simon’s left thigh. “Leg’s feelin’ better then?”

“Much.”

The captain claps him on the shoulder. “Good! Why don’t you wait a minute, Jayne’ll go out with you.”

Simon opens his mouth, then closes it, then opens it again with a frown. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

“And I ain’t babysittin’,” Jayne grunts. “Just got a call from a lady friend of mine recognized the ship, wanted a...” A wicked look crosses his features and he wiggles his eyebrows. “...conjugal visit, if you catch my meaning.”

Kaylee makes a face that perfectly mirrors how Simon is feeling and he makes a small sound of disgust. “Very clearly, yes. Look, I just wanted to tell River that I would be gone for a few hours.” He looks over at her and raises his eyebrows. “And that she is to try and keep out of trouble while I’m gone.”

“Message received,” River says, and smiles. “Loud and clear.”

“We’ll keep a good eye on her,” Kaylee adds.

Simon takes a deep breath and manages a smile of his own. “Of course you will, thank you.”

“Just make sure you’re back ‘fore sundown,” Mal says. “I’m sure Wash’ll have the nav system sorted by then, and then we’re off this rock.” He doesn’t add ‘with or without you,’ but it’s implied.

“Understood, Cap’n.”  

He makes it through the ship without bumping into anyone else, which he’s grateful for. He just wants to get away from everyone for awhile. He almost changes his mind when he gets outside;  the cold is so sharp it steals his breath away and stings his face.

He hurries to the first store he can find, rushing in and letting out a sigh at the warmth. The door closes behind him, a little bell ringing as it does. He takes a few more steps in and looks around, trying to figure out what kind of shop he’s in. There are knick-knacks by the windows and hatchets hanging on the back wall, and some creepily life-like stuffed animals that he’s beginning to think are actual stuffed animals.

There aren’t many others in the store, and he catches a few of them staring, though they shift their attention if he looks at them, pretending like they weren’t just watching him. Even so, he can feel their eyes on him, and he knows what kind of staring it is. Not the curious kind, but the judging kind. The resentful kind. It’s enough to drive him back out into the cold.

He has similar experiences in the next few places he enters, so he never stays more than a few minutes. He’s in a tea shop when he finally grows sick of it, and he approaches the tiny woman behind the counter.

“Excuse me. Can you tell me where I can find someplace to sit, like a bar or a cafe or…” He gestures vaguely, then shrugs.

She looks him up and down with narrowed eyes, then holds a hand out.

“Um…”

“You’ve got spare change, right?”

Simon takes a deep breath and forces himself not to roll his eyes as he digs in his coat pocket. “Here,” he says, dropping a few coins onto her palm. She slips the coins into a pouch at her hip, then points.

“That way, on the left. Place called Waldmann’s.”

“Sheh-sheh,” Simon says with a nod, and turns to the door. He’s almost there when she calls out to him.

“They ain’t gonna like the look of you. I don’t like the look of you.”

This time he does roll his eyes.

The bar isn’t that far, but by the time he gets there his face and fingers and toes are numb. There are more people inside than he would have expected for the relatively early hour, and it’s obvious most of them are just off work. Simon’s pretty sure there’s a mine on this side of the planet, which would make sense given the griminess of the patrons. They watch him as he makes his way to the bar, and unlike the people he’s faced previously they don’t look away from him, instead holding his gaze with eyes that are almost as cold as the weather.

Simon does his best to ignore them. There was a time when he would’ve been intimidated by the sea of dusty, angry faces, but now he’s more annoyed than anything. When he finally makes it to the counter, he leans against it and clears his throat to get the bartender’s attention. The man looks up and takes a long look at Simon and his lip actually curls.

“Can I get a coffee?” Simon asks.

The bartender snorts with a shake of his head. “Ain’t got coffee here, boy.”

Simon scrubs a hand across his face. “Tea, then?”

“What kind of jing-zhang mei yong-duh place do you think this is?”

“Do you have anything warm to drink?” Simon has given up trying to keep the annoyance from his words.

“Got whiskey, that’ll warm you up some.” The bartender smirks as a few of the men at the bar laugh.

Simon grits his teeth. “Can I just get a glass of water, then?”

“Gotta be a payin’ customer if you want water.”

“Pyen juh duh jiou cha wen,” Simon mutters under his breath, getting his wallet out of his pocket and pulling out a few bills. He slaps them on the counter. “Fine. I’ll take a whiskey and a water. Please.”

The bartender makes a show of counting the money before pouring Simon his drinks and sliding them across the counter to him.

“Much obliged,” Simon says, and picks up the glasses before heading for an empty table in the back corner of the establishment. At least there he can sit and rest his leg while people shoot dirty looks at him and whisper to each other. The poor lighting makes it easier to pretend they’re not there. He sits with a sigh, then sips at his water. It’s cold and makes shivers run down his spine, but it’s also refreshing, and cleaner than he would’ve expected. He lifts the whiskey and sniffs at it, quickly setting it down when it makes his nostrils burn and his eyes water. It would warm him, yes, but it would probably also make him go blind and destroy his liver.

He’s contemplating asking for a refill on the water when a man approaches the table. He’s bigger than Simon, and it’s obvious from the look on his face and from the way he carries himself--backs straightened, chest puffed out--that he’s looking to start something.

“Hey, pretty boy,” he says, and he has a thick Dyton accent. He frowns when Simon doesn’t respond. “Oy, I’m talking to you!”

“I heard you, yes,” Simon says, and it takes no effort to sound as unimpressed as he feels. He doesn’t bother looking up at the man. He wants him to know that he’s not worth his full attention.

“I dunno what you think yer doin’ here. We’re not much fans of the Alliance in these parts.” Some nearby men murmur in agreement behind him.

Annoyance it taking a turn toward anger, and Simon grips his glass a little harder. “I’m not Alliance.”

“Like hell, you’re not,” the man says, and reaches forward, grabbing Simon’s whiskey and drinking the whole thing. Simon finally looks up, fixing the man with a cold stare of his own.

“I paid for that,” he says speaking slowly through a tightened jaw. He wasn’t going to drink it anyway, but he can feel his temper rising.

“What’re you goin’a do about it, bao bei?” the man says with a grin.

Simon shakes his head and stands up. It’s probably time to get back to the Serenity. He walks around the table to leave, but the man steps in front of him. and Simon bumps into him, then takes a step back, looking up at the man’s face.

“Step out of my way,” he says, his voice nearly a growl.

“Why don’t you make me?” the man says.

And that’s when Simon hits him, hard, right in the nose. The man stumbles back, letting out a string of curses as blood pours down his face.

Well that was easy, Simon thinks, and then a fist flies into his face and he realizes he’s just gotten himself into a very bad situation as four men descend on him like vultures on roadkill. He fights back as best he can, but he’s not an experienced fighter and they overpower him easily. It’s not long before he’s on the floor, curled up with his arms over his head to try and protect what he can as fists and feet rain down on him. He feels ribs crack, and a second later a foot finds the fresh bullet scar on his leg. The pain makes his vision go black for a moment, and he realizes with a sinking feeling that he’s probably about to get beaten to death. He closes his eyes and waits.

And then he hears cries, the sound of glass breaking, and the blows suddenly stop.

“Well, shit. You’re not already dead, are ya?”

Simon frowns at the familiar voice and opens his eyes to see a mildly concerned looking Jayne looking down at him with that ridiculous orange and yellow hat of his.

“Jayne?” The word comes out garbled and Simon turns to the side and spits out blood before taking Jayne’s outstretched hand. He groans as he’s pulled to his feet. Everything hurts and he almost collapses, but Jayne holds him up.

“You shouldn’t start fights you can’t win,” the mercenary says. There’s a smirk in his voice.

“Wait. You saw the whole thing?” Simon says as they start out.

“Yep,” Jayne says.

“And you couldn’t intervened a little sooner?”

“Well, I thought it was kinda funny, but then you stopped fightin’ back, and I knew Cap’n wouldn’t be too happy if’n I let anything permanent happen. ‘Sides now you owe me one.”

Simon groans.

It’s going to be a long walk.

xxx

“What in the tien shiao duh did you do to my medic?” Mal says, taking in the sight of Simon all black and blue and red.

“Well, that’s the thing, see. He started it!” Jayne says, and laughs.

Simon glares. “I didn’t start it,” he says.  “I threw the first punch, but I didn’t start it. Just get me to my med bay, please.”

Mal hurries over and pulls Simon’s free arm around his shoulders. “Your med bay? I think you mean my med bay.” He turns to Zoe and Kaylee. “Zoe, go tell Wash we’re ready to head out. Kaylee, make sure the engine starts up way it should.”

They both nod and do as he says, though Kaylee lingers for a moment before she leaves.

“What exactly happened?” Mal says as he and Jayne and Simon make their way to the infirmary.

“They didn’t like my coat,” Simon responds. “And then Jayne watched while they kicked my ass.”

Malcolm looks over at Jayne with a raised eyebrow.

“What!” Jayne cries, and looks like he’s going to deny it, and then his expression turns sheepish. “Only for a minute. I didn’t let ‘em kill him!”

Mal rolls his eyes. “You best hope young Simon doesn’t use the same philosophy next time you find yourself in need of some doctorin’.”

By the time they make it to the infirmary, Simon’s feet are practically dragging, and Mal has to help him onto the exam chair. He’s out of breath, but he’s conscious which is a good thing ‘cus he’s the only one who knows what he’s doing in this room.

“Get me a cloth,  please,” he says. “While I get this yu bun duh coat off.”

Mal looks around, then back at Simon. “And cloths would be…?”

“Under the sink,” Simon says.

“Anything I can do?” Jayne asks from the doorway.

“Leave,” Simon and Mal say at the same time, and Jayne hurries off without argument.

Mal grabs a cloth from under the sink and takes it to Simon. “Here.”

“Sheh-sheh,” Simon says, taking it. “And the bottle of disinfectant there, with the green top.”

“This?” Mal says, holding up a bottle.

Simon nods. “Yes, thank you. And can you hold up the mirror for me please?”

“Is now really the time to be pampering?” Mal says, and lets out a laugh that quickly dies off when he sees how miserable the doctor is. He finds the mirror and returns to Simon’s side, holding it up.

Simon pours some of the disinfectant onto the cloth and sets about cleaning his face, letting out small noises of pain as the solution comes into contact with the small cuts on Simon’s cheeks and temple.

“This is the second time in as many months you’ve had to work on yourself,” Mal says. “Hope you’re not making a habit of it.”

That gets a small smile out of Simon. “I think I need to learn how to fight,” he says. “I think I’m done with the mirror now.” He doesn’t look quite so bad with the blood washed from his face--a black eye, a split lip, a few small cuts, but otherwise okay. It’s the expression he’s wearing that concerns Mal.

“Hey. You okay?”

Simon nods, but he looks worried. Scared even.

“Are you sure?” Mal asks, and his concern spikes when he hears a slight rattling each time Simon breathes. “You’re wheezing.”

“‘m okay,” Simon says, and then breaks into a violent coughing fit. His bends almost in half, body shaking with the force of it, and when he’s finally done there’s blood on the inside of the elbow he coughed into and on his lips and he’s shaking.

“Tah mah duh hwoon dahn!” Mal cries. “That’s not okay! You’re-that’s-”

“t’s okay,” Simon gasps as he tries to catch his breath. “Just...pulmonary contusion…”

“What?”

“Bruised...bruised lungs. ‘ve got...got blood in my lungs. Just need to cough it up. ‘m okay.”

Mal stares at him, eyes wide, and tries not to panic. “You and I have very different definitions of okay! How is that okay? Blood in your lungs?”

“Hand me the-” Simon points frantically and Mal grabs the puke basin, shoving it into Simon’s hands just as he starts coughing again, barking hacks that sound painful and exhausting.

Mal is reminded of the time he got pneumonia as a teen, and his chest aches at the memory. He moves forward and positions himself beside the chair. When Simon’s coughing pauses again, Mal takes the basin from his hands and holds it. It’s a small gesture, and he’s not sure Simon understands it, but he does it anyway. He’s not sure how much time passes, but finally Simon leans back against the chair, and his breathing sounds better.

“Done?” Mal asks.

Simon nods and Mal takes the basin to the sink, empties it, and runs some water in it. When he turns back around, Simon’s eyes are closed.

“Hey, now.” Mal walks over and gives the doctor’s shoulder a shake.

“Hmm,” Simon responds.

“Let’s get you to your bunk,” Mal says.

“‘m fine here”

“After a beating like that, you wanna sleep in your own bed. Trust me.” He pulls Simon’s arm around his shoulders, helping the young man to his feet. He lets out a low groan, moving gingerly and curling his free arm around his ribs.

“Got it?” Mall asks, and Simon nods wordlessly. They shuffle awkwardly along, and it’s slow going, but Mal doesn’t mind. He suspects Simon might be embarrassed about it later, though.

“Aiya,” Simon suddenly swears.

“What?” Mal stiffens, worried the young man might start coughing again. When he looks over at Simon, though, his ears are red, and Mal smiles with understanding. “Gotta piss?’

Simon bobs his head.

“Alright, I’ll get you there but I’m not holding you up while you do it.” Simon doesn’t answer, and Mal guides him to the nearest head. A few minutes pass, and Mal is worried Simon may have passed out, when the door opens and Simon staggers forward, his face pale.

“Pissing blood?” Mal asks.

“A little,” Simon says.

“That was one helluva beating, huh?”

Simon hums in response. A few steps later, he says, “Why’re you being so nice to me?”

The question takes him by surprise, but Mal knows what the answer is. When that bounty hunter had been aboard the Serenity, Simon had been alone with the maniac and he'd been...brave. Defiant. He hadn’t talked about it much, but Mal could tell from the bullet hole in his leg. He isn’t the same person he’d been when he first boarded Serenity with his sister.He sure as hell isn’t the same person Mal used to think he was. He’s not some spoiled rich kid anymore. And though Mal would never admit it, Simon is almost starting to feel like one of the crew.

That’s what the answer is. What Mal says is, “A good ass kicking is the mark of a man.”

“I thought getting shot took care of that,” Simon answers.

Mal chuckles. “You would think. But it’s actually getting the go se kicked out of you that does it.”

“Then you must be pretty...damn manly.”

“Must be.”

The rest of the walk to Simon’s bunk passes in silence, and by the time they get there Mal’s taking most of the doctor’s weight. The two of them barely fit in the cramped space.

“There ya go,” Mal grunts, easing Simon onto his bed.

Simon lets out a long sigh and closes his eyes. “My bed never felt so good.” His words are slightly slurred, and Mal can tell he’s already falling asleep.

“You rest up,” he says. “You never know when one of us might need those steady hands of yours.” He’s leaving when Simon answers, his voice quiet.

“Thanks, Cap.”

Mal freezes. It’s the first time Simon has called him that.He smiles and turns around. He’s pretty sure the kid’s already sleep, but he replies anyway. “You’re welcome.”

xxx

#my writing #my fanfic #bad things happen bingo #coughing up blood #beat up #simon tam #malcolm reynolds #jayne cobb #firefly #firefly fic

[atc74]

You Were The First - Chapter 4

Summary: Dean Winchester completed basic training in March 1941 and was offered an opportunity he can’t turn down, to fly with the Allied Forces and England’s Royal Air Force. It will provide a better future for him and his bride-to-be, but what he doesn’t know is it will change the lives of everyone around him.(This is loosely based on Pearl Harbor).

Square Filled: none for this chapter

Written for: na

Characters: Dean Winchester, Y/N Bennett, Mrs. Bennett, Arthur Ketch

Warnings: Angst, mentions of drinking, excessive alcohol consumption, mentions of death - This is not a happy chapter y’all, but it is essential to the story. 

Word Count: 1426

A/N: Thank you so much to @crispychrissy​ for her patience and guidance, and exceptional listening/reading skills. This probably would not have happened without her. An Anon sent me a request that I will also fulfill later in the series for an Eagles song. Guys, it has been a really long time since I was this excited about a series! I hope you like it!

YWTF Masterlist

Chapter 4

It had been more than two weeks since she had learned of Dean’s death. It had been eight days since they laid Dean to rest without his body. Y/N didn’t eat, she didn’t sleep. It seemed that she was not even capable of tears any longer, her body long having given up. A knock sounded at the door, startling her from her fog. Y/N stared blankly at the tea her mother kept forcing on her and ignored the sound. Her mother sighed loudly and walked through their home to answer the door.

“Oh Arthur! It’s so good to see you!” her mother’s voice carried through the first floor of their home. “Please, come in.” Y/N heard her greet their visitor, but she didn’t move. It wasn’t until her mother called to her did she rise from the small table, shuffling her feet to the front room.

“Hello, Arthur,” her voice was withdrawn as she had no emotion let to feel.

“Y/N, hello. It has been a long time; it’s nice to see you,” Arthur looked to her and smile; a smile she did not return.

“I’ll just leave you two to catch up,” her mother announced and slipped from the room. Y/N lowered herself to the sofa, legs curled up under her.

“You look well, Darling,” he spoke, a slight British accent still lingered.

Arthur Ketch was born and raised in England. He and his family moved to America when he was just ten years old. He was a year older than Y/N and since high school had carried a torch for her. He and Dean had argued and fought more than once about the attention Arthur had paid her over the years, though she always turned him down. Her heart belonged to Dean Winchester only. There would never be another living soul she would love like that.

Arthur’s family was wealthy and he had just returned from his final year of college. He filled her in on his travels but told her he had come back to Lawrence to run the family business, medical supplies. Ketch and Company was the leading supplier of medical instruments and supplies in this side of the Mississippi River. His father was a powerful business man and had just made Arthur an officer with the company. He was back for good now. Although her family had been friendly with the Ketch’s over the years, her father having done business with them frequently, she had never wanted anything other friendship from him.

“I would like to take you to dinner, Y/N. Please say you’ll join me?” Arthur requested, but there was no kindness in his tone or his eyes. She wasn’t hungry, but it was still a more pleasant prospect than spending another lonely evening with a cold cup of tea and her thoughts.

“Yes, Arthur. I would be happy to have dinner with you,” Y/N answered. “Let me just freshen up and we can go.”

“Yes, of course, Darling,” he replied, a cockiness in his voice that she had heard too many times over the last twelve years.

Y/N took her time dressing and applying some light makeup. Her hair pulled back in a simple bun, she descended the staircase to find Arthur still standing in the spot she had left him. “Thank you for waiting.”

“I’ve been waiting a long time,” he mumbled.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” she questioned, not hearing him properly.

“I said I don’t mind waiting,” he covered quickly and led her out the door to his waiting luxury sedan.

Arthur took Y/N to the nicest restaurant in Lawrence, Donovan’s Sirloin Room. They served a variety of choice beef cuts and fresh seafood. Y/N wasn’t ready for a public appearance, but is glad that she had finally left the house. She knew she would never stop mourning Dean, but would he really want her to fade from existence? She knew the answer and vowed to try to come back to life, a little at a time.

Despite the looks of other patrons around them, she found herself enjoying dinner and Arthur’s company. He had always been charming and funny and it suited him well. Y/N even found herself laughing a time or two at his stories. It didn’t escape Arthur’s attention that she enjoyed four side car’s with dinner.

It was well past seven when they left the restaurant, Arthur holding the door for her to slide back into his car, holding her elbow to keep her steady on her feet as she did so. “I would like to show you something, if that is okay?”

“I would like that Arthur,” she replied quietly, her words slightly slurred, not really looking forward to going home to her mother’s hovering. She looked out the window as Arthur drove through to the wealthier side of town. He drove slowly down the tree lined streets, leaves budding as the sun set in the west, giving them a golden hue as they rustled in the breeze.

“What is this Arthur?” Y/N asked when he pulled into the driveway of a large, white two story home.  

“This is mine; I purchased it yesterday. I figured with a college education and a new job, a new home rounded out the new start,” he stated, looking up at the structure through the windshield. “Would you like to come in for a drink?”

“I don’t think so, Arthur. Thank you very much for the offer, but this is the first time I have been out of the house since…” she couldn’t even bring herself to say the words.

“I am very sorry for your loss, Y/N. Your mother told me and I cannot imagine how you must be feeling. Dean was a good man,” Arthur conveyed.

“Yes, he was. He was the best. We were to be married in August. It’s not fair, but that is war, is it not?” Y/N felt the sting of tears behind her eyes. “Arthur, would you mind taking me home, please?”

“Of course, Darling. I am so sorry that I have upset you,” he reiterated.

“You didn’t Arthur, he did,” her voice was barely a whisper. The return drive to her parent’s house was silent. When he opened the door for her, she nearly fell on her face as the alcohol started to take it’s hold. Arthur walked her to the door to ensure she didn’t fall, then placed a chaste kiss to her cheek.

“Good night, Darling. I hope to see you again, soon,” he told her before returning to his car.  

~*~

“Y/N! It is high time you get out of that bed and do something with yourself!” Mrs. Bennett burst into Y/N’s room early. She flipped on the lights and threw back the curtains, letting the summer sun shine brightly through the windows. It was then that she noticed the empty bottles littering night stand, the vanity and a few scattered on the floor where they fell out of Y/N’s hand once she passed out.

“Noooo. It’s too early,” Y/N moaned and buried herself farther under the bed covers, as the bright light assaulted her senses and caused her brain to feel too large for her skull.

“You have been locked up in this house for weeks, with the exception of a couple of hours out with Arthur. You need to pull yourself together, child!” her mother was raising her voice higher and higher. Finally, Y/N had had enough.

“You don’t think I know that? I lost the love of my life, mother! We were getting married and he is gone. The only boy I have loved for sixteen years is dead!” Y/N collapsed into a heap of cotton and tears on her bedroom floor, her body wracked with the sobs she had been holding in since they had buried Dean.

Her mother did the only thing she knew how to do, she held her baby girl, a grown woman and practically a widow at only twenty years old. Mrs. Bennett’s heart broke for her daughter, not being able to imagine the pain she was experiencing.

“Mama, what am I supposed to do? It hurts so much, I wish I couldn’t feel anything!” she wailed in her mother’s arms. The two Bennett woman sat on the floor and cried together; one grieving for a lost love, the other grieving for a her daughter and a hurt she didn’t know how to fix.

I’d love to hear/read your thoughts!

Tags: @iwantthedean @d-s-winchester @just-a-touch-of-sass-and-fandoms @just-another-busy-fangirl @mamaredd123 @ellen-reincarnated1967 @tankcupcakes @katymacsupernatural​ @winchesterprincessbride @chelsea072498 @meeshw777​  @tmccarney​ @ruprecht0420​ @theoriginalvicki​ @nanie5 @docharleythegeekqueen​ @megansescape​ @notnaturalanahi​ @impalaimagining​ @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @blacktithe7​ @emoryhemsworth​ @bringmesomepie56​ @devilgirlsarah​ @spnbaby-67​ @myoutletforfanfiction​ @deansangelgirl​ @jerk-bitch-and-an-angel​ @kayteonline​ @rockhoochie​ @percussiongirl2017​ @fanfreak07​ @sandlee44​ @moonstar86​   @squirrel-moose-winchester​ @growningupgeek​ @charliebradbury1104​ @evansrogerskitten​ @feelmyroarrrr​ @itseverythingilike​ @smoothdogsgirl​ @supernatural-jackles​ @ryantherandomhero​ @love-kittykat21​ @kathaswings​ @crispychrissy​ @paintrider13-blog​  @bethbabybaby​ @ravenangel33​ @shaelyn102​ @roxyspearing​ @nosleeptillbucky​  @x-waywardaf-x​

Dean tags: @whimsicalrobots​ @akshi8278​  @iamabeautifulperson18​ @suzannebeaketa​ @thing-you-do-with-that-thing​ @deandoesthingstome​ @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester​ @boxywrites​  @sparklesuperwholock88​  @ericaprice2008​   @tardis-full-of-fallen-angels​

YWTF Tags (CLOSED): @luci-in-trenchcoats​ @hexparker​  @meganwinchester1999​ @bitchy-tacos​ @ultimatecin73​ @neveah-potter15 @housav​ @thereisnolumos​ @frickfracklesackles​

#You Were The First #YWTF #Dean x Reader AU #Dean Winchester x Reader AU #Dean Winchester AU #Soldier!Dean #supernatural fanfiction #Supernatural AU

[josiebelladonna]

It’s funny, I’m a grunge fan and I pretty much came online right as the intense love of it was beginning to take off, and yet I’ve always been like the outsider especially when the nostalgia subculture surfaced. It’s like everyone has always been speaking in a language I could never understand and this was never more apparent to me--in hindsight especially now--when Chris noticed me. He was a fan of me and my art, and after I had visited some grunge accounts Instagram recommended to me (including Chris’ mother-in-law like wtf), I want to say that I lost yet another nuance after he had gone: that one source of comfort in a fandom that was already a little chilly towards me and it only grew icy after 2017. Maybe that’s why my grunge themed fan works never really took off. Maybe Chris was the only person, big name and otherwise, to really see me for me instead of “just another face.”

It’s even funnier because I, a grunge fan, am feeling more of a “familial” sense with the heavy metal fandoms. I got an actual welcome email when I joined Metallica’s fan club last summer (like, “hey Hannah! come on in, babe! you’re just in time!”), and another one when I joined Anthrax’s albeit in New Yorker accents--they’ve got the coolest fans ever, I’m not even kidding. I’m always getting replies from people on their IG posts and they’re always so nice. Metallica fans can get a little rough (especially when Lars comes up), but I still feel like I’m a part of something, though. Megadeth always likes my comments--fucking MEGADETH! Frankie does, too. I’ve made Charlie laugh a couple of times and I’m sure I made some people laugh with my fangirling over Joey. Really, I never got interaction like this when I was in the Soundgarden fandom. Exceptions aside, people were either standoffish, like they didn’t know how to act around me, or they were patronizing--their fan club welcome email was almost businesslike and I lost count how many times I’ve had my intelligence insulted because I didn’t agree on something. The coolest grunge fans I’ve come across, though? Alice in Chains fans. Hands-down. Probably because of the “big four” they’re the most heavy metal. I’ve met some cool Pearl Jam fans, but AiC for the most part has been where it’s at. I don’t know what it is: could be the gloomy vibe of the whole scene, or the fact Seattle has always been rather closed off to the outside world up until the scene hit and the OGs were more than reticent to the attention (and the fandom is emulating that), but over time it’s gone from “where have you been all my life?” to okay to less than pleasant to downright frosty.

It’s a day late, but I’m thankful I went offline and slipped into the shadows after Chris’ passing for as long as I did. I was being pushed away and it was only going to get worse had I stuck around.

#now it's dark is marked completed by the way oh yeahhh!! #text

[leon-thot-kennedy]

Wrote this thing for my bab’s bday. Hope you guys like it too (spacing may be weird, doing this on mobile!)

    It was slow at the Cow Chop HQ. Everyone was out enjoying the beautiful, and for once not insanely hot weather LA had to offer. Well except Aleks, of course. He’d stopped by the building, bored out of his skull and looking for something to do. The blond opened the door, looking around for something or someone to appease his growing boredom. He could hear loud talking coming from somewhere, and followed the stern sounding voice to the office Brett used whenever he popped in. Aleks opened the door, and cocked an eyebrow, not exactly hating what he was seeing.

Brett stood with his back to the wall, talking loud and angrily to someone on the phone. His posture was tense, and Aleks found his eyes wandering down the man’s body, straying at the muscled ass and toned calves. Aleks would never have normally considered it, but damn did Brett look good. “Damn dude, dad as fuck” he whispered, immediately feeling ashamed. Damn tumblr. But they weren’t wrong. Brett was the dad of their little group, and he could see where the fangirls and boys would say something like that. Aleks shook his head, clearing his throat just loudly enough for Brett to hear. The other man spun around, raising a brow at Aleks. He held a finger up, acknowledging the younger man as he finished his conversation.

Moments later Brett set his phone down, shaking his head. “So man, what’s up?” he asked, dark brown eyes looking right to Aleks. Aleks shrugged, rolling his eyes. “I don’t know, dude. I’m fucking bored as hell for some reason today, thought I’d see if someone was here” he answered. Brett chuckled, giving the Russian a once over. Aleks looked good, dressed in tight black jeans and a simple white v-neck. “Let’s go out for a drink” Brett offered and Aleks snickered. “Dude it’s like 4 in the afternoon, little early isn’t it?” he said, shaking his head. Brett pursed his lips and shrugged. “What are you, a pussy?” he asked challengingly. He knew Aleks wouldn’t back down, not now. He was a bit too prideful. Aleks snorted, opening the door and Brett laughed to himself. Predictable as always.

Not even 20 minutes later the two of them were at some random hole in the wall bar, tipping back their respective drinks. Aleks hummed thoughtfully. This hadn’t been too bad of an idea. “So this wasn’t totally a bad idea” he muttered, echoing his thoughts. Brett nodded in agreement, already slightly tipsy from the 3 shots he’d downed upon their arrival. “Totally man. You’re good company. Y’know, in case you hadn’t noticed Aleks, there’s a gorgeous girl eyeing the fuck out of you.” Aleks turned to see the woman in question, and turned back to his companion, shaking his head. “Nah dude she’s staring at you. With that ass you got, who could blame her” he blurted, and Brett’s eyes went wide for a moment. It took the younger man a minute to register he’d said that out loud, and a blush spread over his face. Brett laughed loudly, startling a few of the bar’s patrons. “And here I thought it was just me.”

Aleks’ face turned an even brighter pink, and his mouth opened automatically as a response. Brett raised an eyebrow, waiting for the younger man to say something, instead of gaping like a fish. A full minute went by and Brett sighed. “Well?” he asked Aleks. The blond swallowed, taking another minute to collect his thoughts as his stomach did flips. “W-What are you saying, dude?” he asked, feeling the effects of the alcohol now. Brett smirked, and it was fucking hot, if Aleks was being honest. Brett moved closer, hot breath on Aleks’ ear. “I’m saying, Aleksandr, that I would like to go back to your place and fuck.” Aleks felt his dick throb in his jeans, and he couldn’t say no. Why would he? He nodded, shaky, and Brett’s smile widened.     Brett threw the money on the bar, walking past Aleks with a swagger in his step. Aleks watched the muscles of his ass work, as his toned legs carried him away and he had to stifle a moan. He followed, perhaps a little too eager. In what could only be described as a miracle (or maybe Brett hadn’t had near as much to drink as Aleks though he’d had so he was really fine) they made it back to Aleks place. Aleks got out of the car slowly, back pressed against his door. Brett came around, putting both arms on either side of the smaller man. He moved forward with a predatory gleam in his eyes, pressing his lips against the pulse point on Aleks’ neck. It was a rapid little beat, and he smiled against the younger’s throat as he bit down gently. This earned a soft, breathy moan from Aleks and the noise went right to Brett’s cock. “Fuck,” he breathed, biting down harder because damn it all, he wanted to hear more of that shit.

    Brett and Aleks managed to make it inside, barely. As soon as they crossed the threshold, clothes had started to come off and hands were definitely wandering, and later Aleks would wonder how they’d even made it to his room at the rate they were going. But they did, and Aleks let out a little noise when his knees hit the bed. Brett’s eyes were wild, blown wide with arousal as he pushed Aleks back onto the mattress. He crawled on the bed, hovering over Aleks and he could see that Aleks wanted this as much as he did. “Fuck me, you’re so fucking hot” he swore and Aleks smirked. “Isn’t that my line?” he chuckled and Brett growled. He looked up, seemingly searching for something. “In the table” he murmured. Brett smiled and opened the drawer. “A-ha” he laughed, moving back over to Aleks, not missing a beat.

Brett poured a good amount of lube on his hand, staring at Aleks as he did so. The other man bit his lip, cock leaking from his excitement. He gave a short nod, signaling that it was okay. The older of the two let his hand wander to Aleks’ tight hole. He circled his large finger around the rim before slipping it in. Aleks grunted softly, and within a matter of seconds the resistance was gone. Brett gently moved his finger, going slowly because while he did want to be balls deep in Aleks like now, he wasn’t cruel like that.

After a few minutes of opening Aleks up properly, Brett could tell he was becoming impatient, they both were. Sitting back, he stroked himself slowly, coating himself in lube as he stared at Aleks. “You ready?” he asked, his tone challenging. Aleks smirked and nodded. “Just fucking get in me, Jesus Christ dude.” Brett chuckled and pressed forward slowly. The warmth and tightness stole his breath away and he damn near popped then and there. Brett took a breath, calming his own rapidly beating heart and when he felt like he wasn’t going to lose it, he looked to Aleks for confirmation that it was okay to start moving. The Russian nodded, and Brett started a slow thrust. Aleks was already coming undone, the younger man knew this much. With how big and thick his friends cock was, how could he not? Aleks smiled to himself, because seeing Brett above him, face twisted in passion…it was amazing. Though before long, Brett wanting to take it easy on him started to annoy Aleks.

Aleks knew he wanted Brett to go faster, harder. He knew what buttons to press to make that happen. He laughed quietly, devilishly to himself. “You know, you keep fucking me this slow, I’m going to have to go get it from another guy cause you’re boring me.” There. Aleks smiled smugly. Hit his ego and his pride. He heard a low, dangerous growl, and brown eyes met another set of dark, wild eyes. “Shit dude,” Aleks swore. Brett started to pound into Aleks faster, angling his hips just right as to hit the other man’s prostate. Aleks’ hips snapped up and he let out a loud, keening moan.

Brett’s mouth twisted into a devilish smirk. “That what you wanted, asshole?” he laughed and Aleks nodded. After minutes of the brutalizing pace,  Brett could feel himself getting close. He bit his lip, looking down at the man he was currently fucking senseless. “Hey, Aleks I’m close. Where do you  want-” he started to ask but Aleks interrupted him. “Inside me,” he answered firmly and Brett moaned because fuck all, that was hot. He nodded and grabbed Aleks cock, stroking in time with his thrusts.

In no time at all Aleks came, a cry of “Brett" spilling from his lips. He tightened up and as a result (and it CERTAINLY wasn’t the way Aleks had yelled his name) Brett came hard, pouring inside of Aleks. They both lay there, with Brett on top of Aleks, panting hard. Brett slowly removed himself, noticing Aleks wince. He lay back down, turning his head to look at Aleks, who was already out cold. Softly smiling, Brett covered his now lover up, running a hand through his hair. “You’re easy to get addicted to, you fucker,” he murmured. Brett’s eyes fluttered shut, and he was out.

In the morning, the two would go on to go get breakfast. Neither would admit how the other had rocked them entirely, and they didn’t really bring it up at breakfast. No, they didn’t think anything needed to be said and when it happened a second, third and fourth time…well that was fine too.

#my fic #fanfic