#I never know what to do with myself on weekends because of the lack of structure and expectations so I seethe until I’m asleep lol

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

Anyone have any experience working for DoorDash, Uber Eats, or the likes of them? How is it, and which one is best?

[floral-hex]

So this is my thing now, I’m afraid to go to sleep. This is kinda bullshit, brain.

[andhumanslovedstories]

I am not closely following the election results tonight, but I am occasionally seeing flashes of them out of the corner of my eye. The most obvious sign that things aren’t going well right now is the complete lack of celebrating on my dash. I know what tumblr looks like when it’s happy. Maybe I’ll go to bed tonight and see something different in the morning. I hope to god that is the case. But I’m thinking about the way I’m thinking right now, and I want to get some stuff down before the future kicks in.

In 2016 I was in a period of my life I affectionately refer to as as my fuckup era. I wasn’t even fucking up really. More just chilling out and falling short of the vague expectations I’d had about what I was supposed to be doing after I graduated college. While my friends from college rented apartments in the city and got jobs that didn’t supply you with a uniform shirt, I lived at home and worked as a barista at a fancy movie theater. That’s a real job you can do for almost five years. I didn’t have a clue what the back half of my twenties should look like. The only long term plan I had in my life was moving out west with my best friend, and my plan for finding a job once I was out there was basically to cross my fingers and hope.

Those days weren’t bad on the whole, but it felt like I was not actually living a life so much as I was goofing off in the waiting room. Sometimes that felt embarrassing, sometimes it felt fun, and sometimes it felt like I was completely pointless to the world.

On 2016’s Election Day, I went to bed early. After watching the votes come in, I needed the night to be over. I woke in a world that felt different than it had been the night before—not just in the actuality of who would be president but down to its foundations. I realized for the first time how much hope I’d had in human nature because now I didn’t feel it anymore. It’s almost silly when I think about it—so many horrible things had already happened that year, people had done horrible things as long as there have been people, and I didn’t think I was naive to that—but something clicked into place that morning.

It felt the same way my world had changed a year earlier, in 2015 during my last semester of college. My college victory lap felt like a prolonged downward spiral. Very early in the morning on a Monday, after pulling an all-nighter and overwhelmed by self-loathing that I could not just motivate myself to work on a paper that had been my only thought all weekend, I self-harmed for the first time in a way that was impossible to pretend it was anything else. Earlier that weekend, I’d tried staving off the urges drawing or writing on my arm, something that did (and does) usually work. I’d written this quote in silver sharpie on my forearm: “Good is not a thing you are. It's a thing you do.”

I picked that quote from the Ms. Marvel comics and liked the words so much, I thought that I wouldn’t be willing to purposefully mess it up by hurting myself there. Didn’t work. They just made me feel more ashamed of myself as I did it.

That was the worst I had ever felt. Then, on the Friday of that week, a friend of mine was senselessly, brutally murdered.

It doesn’t feel now like there was ever a time before her death. My memoir class is now where I wrote about her. My favorite professor is now the one who held me as I cried. My final thesis, the culmination of my history degree, never got finished and certainly never got polished. I turned it what I had and got an A minus. Sometimes I think of rereading that paper to see if that’s the grade it actually deserved. We hadn’t been the closest friends, but my name was still on the email admin sent to professors, listing students who might be emotionally affected by this tragic event. Grace’s murder hangs over every memory I have with her and everything she ever touched. It feels like its own type of obliteration to leave her reduced to her death.

Grace wanted to be a lawyer because she believed in justice and also liked arguing. She could be rude when she wasn’t interested in what you were saying. When you caught her attention, you felt like the most fascinating person in the room. She was so proud of being Jewish. I watched her become proud of being gay. She was so universally friendly that it took me a year to realize that she actually liked specifically me. She had a somewhat silly laugh and an astonishingly luminous smile.

I thought less of the world and the people in it because of how she died. Trump’s election in 2016 felt like that.

After he won, I left stasis. From November through December, I thought harder about my future than I ever had before. Who did I want to be? What did I most value? What did I think was worth protecting? What work wouldn’t kill me to do? At one point, in presumably a fit of madness, I thought, “what if I got into politics.” Epiphany eventually hit me. By the time of Trump’s inauguration, I was already enrolled at community college, getting my pre-reqs for nursing school.

Now it’s election night again, eight years later. I live on the west coast with my best friend, in a house that we bought together. I work as a nurse in a hospital in a city where there are homeless encampments off every highway and someone begging for change on every corner. Meanwhile, there’s Palestine. Meanwhile there’s Sudan. Meanwhile refugees drown in the sea and border patrol shoots jugs of water. Even hurricanes have human cruelty now.

I don’t think people are inherently good or the universe inherently kind. But I am very good at tricking myself into thinking it for a little while, and when I do, I can remember the a specific feeling from Friday of my senior year, from that morning in November— how fucking hard the disappointment hit me because I had expected people to be better than this. It makes me want to be better than that.

I believe, and hope that I always will, that we can make a better world. I don’t know what it looks like, but I think I will see it in my lifetime. Those of us who can believe such things owe a bit of that naïveté to the world—not to excuse atrocities or think them impossible but to believe that we can stop them at all. You have to have a couple people sprinkled around who are genuinely shocked when people do bad things. It’s not that the pessimists are wrong, but you need the occasional counterbalance. I want to be a reasonable cynic’s pleasant surprise.

Every shift, I interact with people at their lowest and worst. I see the direct pipeline from pain to anger to violence, and how fragile that pipeline can be. So many situations can be changed by things as small as a warm blanket or a kind word. Violence can be quite easy to avert. Crises can be quite simply to resolve. Even when I know that whatever I do that shift will not change the circumstances of a person’s life, I think that what I do that shift still matters.

I’m lying in bed, writing this post instead of looking at the news. I wonder how tonight will change me. Been thinking about what I’ll do if Trump wins. Been thinking about how whatever I think I need to do under Trump will still need to be done if Harris clutches out a victory. I guess this is a pessimist’s optimism: to a degree the election doesn’t matter. Good is not a thing you are. It is a thing you do. Our better world will always take a lot of work.

But please god please, why can’t it be just a little easier to do it?

[roosterforme]

Mr. Right Now Part 5 | Hangman x Reader

Summary: Jake can't pinpoint why he feels the need to make you understand that you're special. Or maybe he can, but he's too afraid to admit it to himself. You are completely out of your depth, but you know you'd rather drown with Jake than be with anyone else right now.

Warnings: adult language, sexual touching, oral sex, fingering, cum play, 18+

Length: 3700 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female Reader

Why is Jake on my masterlist!? Mr. Right Now masterlist

Jake was surpassing all of your expectations. You were already three orgasms deep on the weekend, and you just met him less than a day ago. He was sweet and handsome, and right now he was kissing your lips softly on his couch as he held you tight. You couldn't help but smile against his mouth as the sticky coating of his cum spread from your tummy to his hard abs as you and he made out at a luxurious pace.

He was taking charge, but he never made you feel small or stupid for your lack of experience. He just didn't seem like that kind of person. And besides, you did manage to turn him on for the third time, and instead of letting him sneak away, you got him to stay put on the couch with you.

"Were you really going to try to jerk off alone again?" you asked as he kissed his way down the side of your neck.

"Mmhmm. You caught onto that, did you?" You felt his tongue trail along your skin before he said, "Wasn't about to make you feel obligated to take care of it for me in any way."

Okay, so Jake was kind of a gentleman. So much so that he still hadn't fucked you. And he still hadn't told you when he was planning to. The crazy thing was, you now understood that he could probably make you come a dozen other ways that didn't involve his cock at all. You were impressed. You were also a little sad that once you and he did get around to that little matter of eliminating the fact that you were still a virgin, you'd be on your way.

"Are you sore, Darlin'?" he asked, setting butterflies off in your belly. "I was a little rough with my fingers."

You moaned softly and tipped your head back. "It felt amazing. I liked it."

"I'm glad," he crooned. "But if you're sore, you could take a bath."

You perked up even more. A bath in his big tub sounded delightful, and once you started moving, you realized you were a bit more sore than you originally thought. "I want a bath," you told him, and you left a mess of his tacky cum on him when you stood up. You suddenly remembered you were completely naked and covered in his semen as you ducked your face away from him and muttered, "I wasn't sure what the texture was going to be like. It's really sticky all over me now."

Jake stood and pulled you close again. "Gets messier and harder to clean up when it starts to dry. But you didn't seem to mind me coating you up since it was your idea in the first place."

You pressed your lips together and muttered, "I never saw a guy come in real life before. I was curious. And it was so hot."

Something like possessiveness flashed in his eyes. "And then, to my surprise, you started playing with it," he added with a dangerous smirk, and you turned away from him in embarrassment, because maybe you weren't supposed to do that at all. "Do you hear me complaining?" he asked, pressing his lips to your shoulder. "That was some advanced level kinky stuff. Just wasn't expecting it. But I am not complaining. Let's get you in the bath."

Jake kept his arm around your waist as he led you back to his bedroom and then to the en suite bathroom where he cranked on the hot water before turning to look at you in all his naked glory. "I'm going to grab myself a beer for bathtime. Something about hot water and a cold beer is very satisfying, and maybe you can learn all about it after your next birthday. You want another crystal goblet of ice water?"

Your brow furrowed. "You're taking a bath with me?"

He raised one eyebrow and took a step away from you. "Unless you don't want me to."

Once again, you were surprised by him, but not disinterested in the idea of having him join you in the tub. "I want you to."

He half smiled in response. "And the goblet of ice water?"

"Yes, please," you told him with an eye roll. Then he was gone, and you were left with the soothing sound of the tub filling up while you went in search of a washcloth. You found some in the small closet just inside the bathroom door. Along with extra towels, razor blades, and a half empty box of extra large condoms.

Of course he would have them. He brought you home which meant he probably did the same thing every weekend. Maybe he even had more than one girl each weekend. One for Friday night and one for Saturday night. Maybe he'd fuck you and then offer to drive you home soon so he could go back to the bar tonight and find someone more his speed. Someone who knew that condoms came in different sizes.

You couldn't let yourself get jealous or sad, because there was no point in it. This was practically a business deal. Jake was helping you get ready for Cooper while he got his rocks off as many times as he wanted to. No more, no less.

"Here you go."

You startled a bit as Jake held out your wine glass filled with ice water, and he took a long sip from his bottle of Sam Adams. "Thanks," you whispered, and then he pressed his cold lips to your forehead before nodding at the tub.

"Get in and get comfy."

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

Jake had never shared his bathtub with anyone. Soaking in the hot water until it was almost too cool to stand was one of his guilty pleasures that he never planned on letting someone else experience, too. He usually brought a beer in with him. One time he drank an entire bottle of champagne. But he always did it alone. Until today, apparently. Something about the way his cum was drying on your skin while you kissed him made him want to take the time to clean you up. And he also realized by how his wrist felt that he'd gone pretty hard with his fingers.

You looked too fucking cute with the steamy water up to your shoulders while you sipped from the condensation coated stemware. But you were quieter than you had been in the living room, which bothered him, because he had gotten used to your constant chattering and your smartass comments.

He slipped one foot into the hot water, and you scooted a little further forward. When he had both feet in, he eased himself down until he was sitting with you tucked between his legs. But you were facing away from him, so he couldn't see your face as he asked, "Is the temperature okay for you?"

"Mmhmm," you hummed, sipping your ice water.

He leaned back against the tub and took another sip of beer, but you remained where you were. "You comfy?" he asked.

"Yes," you whispered, your back still to him.

"Well, I'm not," he said blandly.

"What's wrong?" you asked right away, turning to look at him over your shoulder, finally letting him see your pretty face.

"You're all the way over there." 

Jake reached for your hip under the water, wrapped his hand around you, and pulled you closer to him. Your eyes went wide, and you turned to brace your hand against his chest. Some of your cold drink splashed onto him, but he just muttered, "That's better," while you set the glass down on the edge of the tub.

"You could have just asked me to scoot closer."

Jake studied you and took another long sip of his beer before setting it down next to your glass. "You haven't complained once when I've touched you."

"I'm not complaining," you whispered, so he stroked your waist, and you snuggled in a little closer to him. "I'm just wondering when you're going to fuck me." 

He kissed your forehead as you looked up at him. "You're playing by my rules, remember?" he muttered.

"You don't have to be so sweet just for me." Jake's fingers froze on your body as you added, "Unless you're always like this? Making breakfast for your overnight guests? And cuddling in the bathtub? I guess that makes more sense."

But he wasn't always like this, and he wanted to tell you that. But he knew he didn't have the right to say anything at all when you really only needed him for one purpose. Once you got what you wanted from him, you'd be gone.

"Are you always this sweet?" you whispered, wet fingers wrapped around the back of his neck as you looked up at him through your lashes. 

He licked his lips and shook his head. "I don't think I've ever been quite this sweet before." When you finally smiled again, your eyes softened, and Jake kissed the bridge of your nose. "You might as well get comfortable, because I don't get out until the water's cold."

"Cold!" you complained as he held you tighter. "You expect me to stay here until it's cold?"

"Mmhmm." He took another sip of his beer. "And I expect you to tell me what kind of pizza you want for dinner, too. And why don't you tell me what you're studying in school while you're at it. And how you usually spend your weekends."

"I'm staying for dinner?"

Jake sighed and let his head tip back. "I don't think I can fuck you until I've taken you on a proper date. So... will you have dinner with me at my dining room table?"

"Yes."

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

A proper date. The words were bouncing around in your mind even as Jake stretched out on his couch in his gym shorts while you were almost completely on top of him, wearing his clothes. "You're wrong," you told him, shaking your head and pushing his hair off his forehead. "You have the wrong opinion about pineapple on pizza, and I refuse to believe I'm the first person who has ever told you so."

His hand on your butt flexed as he laughed. "Nobody else would dare. Except for you. Go ahead. Tell me what else I'm wrong about."

"Well," you said with a huff of pretend annoyance, "you ate your eggs sunny side up this morning. Wrong. And you didn't already have your bedroom window open to listen to the sound of the ocean last night. Wrong." You paused for a beat before saying what you'd been thinking about for a while. "I would say you're wrong about needing extra large condoms, but I did see and feel you, so maybe you do. Not wrong."

His deep laughter rumbled through his chest, and you jostled slightly on top of him. "You found my stash in the bathroom?" he asked, but he didn't sound annoyed.

"I was looking for a washcloth."

He hummed and asked, "How many condoms are left in the box? I haven't checked in a couple weeks."

"About half." You looked him in his pretty green eyes. "Does that mean you haven't had sex in a couple weeks? Or that you just haven't been using condoms?"

"I always use condoms," he replied immediately with a little nod, and you believed him. "Lesson seven: never skip a condom. Guys are pigs. Don't let them cut corners."

He kissed the corner of your mouth, but all you could say was, "So you haven't had sex in a little while?"

Jake nodded again. "Was getting a little sick of the bar crowd, to be honest. At least until you dropped your fake. Kicking tag chasers out of my bed in the middle of the night isn't much fun anymore."

"What's a tag chaser?" you asked, running your fingers through his soft hair.

His cheeks tinted with pink as he said, "Women who go after guys in the military. Some of them think it's fun to 'collect' tags. Some of them are hoping to trap a guy for the marriage benefits. Different reasons. Same name. And you absolutely can't let them spend the night with you."

You wanted to laugh, because this actually sounded like your roommate, Kylie. But then you remembered why you went to that particular bar in the first place and who you were originally looking for. Your eyes went wide. "Wait. Am I a tag chaser?"

Now he was hooting with laughter. "I don't know, Darlin'. Are you? That little leather skirt screamed yes, but your smart mouth and the fact that you didn't care that I was an aviator are telling me no."

You thought about it for another second and said, "I'm not one," while he laughed some more. "I couldn't be! You let me spend the night."

He reached for his phone as he said, "Yeah, well you're different, aren't you? I'm going to order this pizza."

"Okay," you whispered, letting your cheek rest on his chest as he tapped his screen and then held his phone to his ear. He was looking at you as he said, "Yeah, hi, a large pizza for delivery, please." He paused for a second and then said, "Toppings? Since I'm with a girl who has weird ideas about pineapple on pizza, just wait to hear how horrible this thing is going to sound. Are you ready?"

You were laughing with your face buried against his arm as he gave his address and credit card number, and when he hung up, you screeched, "Jake! You're ridiculous. And wrong! It's going to be the best pizza ever."

"Sure," he said sarcastically before sitting up with you on his lap. He nipped at your lip as he added, "It'll be about thirty minutes before it gets here, Darlin'. I think we have time to review some of your lessons if you feel like it."

A smile bloomed across your face as you asked, "Which lessons?"

"Whatever lessons you want."

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

You told Jake you wanted to review lessons two and three, and now you were naked on his couch with his face buried in your pussy and his hands wrapped around the backs of your thighs. Foreplay and oral sex were two things you clearly loved. He spent about ten minutes making out with you and hitting all the spots that left you dripping wet, and then he treated himself to a taste. 

"God damn," he growled, lapping at you as you tugged on his hair. Once again, you got him rock hard as goosebumps trailed down his neck. "Fuck."

"Jake," you whined until his mouth was back on your clit, and then you sighed contentedly. He knew he could get you off before the pizza arrived, and he also knew he'd be amped up for you later. He was excited. You excited him. He wanted to be so good.

"Jake!" You came apart on his tongue, rolling your hips up for more pressure. He rewarded you for knowing what you wanted by sucking on your clit, and he enjoyed every second of your orgasm. Every little sound. Each tug on his hair. The way your body seemed to relax into the couch cushions once you were fully sated. And then there was a knock on his door.

"Don't move an inch, Darlin'," he teased, kissing the apex of your thigh.

"I can promise you I won't," you whimpered, arm tossed over your eyes as you ran your fingers slowly up your body.

He chuckled as he walked to the door, and then he realized that he was wearing nothing but a pair of gym shorts and a raging boner. He grimaced and tried his best to hide himself with his left hand while he pulled the door open. You were just in the other room, completely naked on the couch, and if you sat up, the pizza delivery kid who looked like he was your age would have front row seats to the show of a lifetime.

"Thanks," Jake muttered, taking the pizza box and quickly closing the door. Then he walked to the table, his cock merrily bobbing along the way. He started to grab plates and get you another wine glass of ice water, and he had to pause to consider why exactly he felt the need to make this seem like a date. He'd already been over every bit of your body with his mouth and hands. He could have just fucked you by now. He desperately wanted to. But he needed you to understand that you had to go for the guys who weren't just setting out to take advantage of you. That you needed to make them work for it.

Jake turned when you made a soft sound and wrapped your arms around his waist. You were wearing his clothes again, and he collected you against him. "It smells good," you muttered.

He kissed your forehead and said, "This is the one and only time I'm letting you choose the toppings."

Your laughter rang out as you sat down with your ice water. "I guess I better make it count then. And that's such a typical guy thing, to think their pizza topping preferences are the best."

"Yours are just wrong," he replied quickly, dropping a slice onto your plate before putting one on his own. He watched you take an enormous bite and smile as you chewed it up. "But you're cute, so you can get away with it."

You looked satisfied with his comment as you asked, "So, you usually make other girls eat the grotesque topping combination you prefer? Is that why you don't have a girlfriend?"

"Wow. Okay," he replied with a laugh while he sat down, enjoying your smirk. "You think this Cooper guy is going to put up with you, smartass?"

You cocked your head to the side like you had forgotten all about him. "I thought we weren't supposed to be talking about him anymore? That was lesson number one."

"You're not allowed to bring him up," Jake reminded you. "But I can. So what's so great about him anyway?"

You nibbled on your crust and kind of shrugged. "He's pretty hot. And he asked me out four times. I keep telling him we can go out soon, but I know he's going to stop asking if I don't actually pick a day and do it." You paused and looked at your glass of ice water as you said, "I should have just slept with someone by now. I don't want him to be disappointed that I'm a virgin who doesn't know how to do anything."

Jake grunted and set his pizza down. He'd been with his fair share of women, but there was nothing disappointing about you. The way you got him going was unparalleled, and even though you claimed you didn't know how to do even the basics, you definitely had his number. The hair pulling and cum play and little noises you made were all unintentional but so fucking hot. And now he was annoyed.

"That's why you want to lose your virginity? So you can please him physically?" You shrugged again. "Remember how I told you that it's never about the guy?"

"Yeah."

He reached for your chin and tipped it up so you met his eyes. "That goes for everyone, but especially Cooper. Okay? There's nothing wrong with you, Darlin'. You got everything just right."

You nodded and swallowed hard, and Jake was so fucking jealous of a college kid, he wanted to scream. "Okay, Jake," you whispered. "I believe you."

His fingers slipped slowly along your jaw until they were digging gently into the back of your neck. He studied your pretty face and memorized how his clothing looked on you while your gaze stayed fixed on him. "Are you sure you still want to do this with me?" he asked softly. "Because you don't need me to fix anything about you since there's nothing wrong to begin with."

In an instant, you planted your hand on his thigh and leaned all the way in to kiss him. He realized he was still a little hard from giving you head as soon as you nudged him, but he didn't mind you knowing how badly he wanted you. He didn't stop you as you eased yourself onto his lap without breaking the kiss, and when your body settled against his, you moaned softly. 

Jake pulled away and watched you chase him for more before your eyes fluttered open. "I need to hear you say it," he whispered, hand creeping up inside the shirt you were wearing. "Is this what you really want?"

You didn't hesitate as you told him, "Yes. I want you for my first time, because you're sweet and I know you're not going to hurt me. I don't always need to explain myself for you to know what I need. I want you. Not Cooper and not Rooster. You."

The shirt you were wearing fell to the floor next to his chair, and Jake ran his rough fingers along your sides, making you shiver. He kissed you softly as his hands found the undersides of your breasts. "This pizza is going to taste even more disgusting cold," he murmured as you arched into his touch. "But I can't wait any longer for you."

You smiled against his lips before you stood, taking his hand and guiding him to his feet as well. Then you led him to his bedroom, and he got lost in your little glances along the way.

"Better get those extra large condoms," you told him with a soft laugh.

He kissed you and guided you back toward his bed, and you stretched out luxuriously beneath him, his hand resting on the elastic at your hip. "You got nothing to worry about, Darlin'. I'll take care of everything."

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

Full speed ahead to Jake's cock in the next part. He's ready to go. You've been warned. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 6

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[miley1442111]

thank god for dr. spencer reid

a/n: this was written with a fem!reader in mind but imagine what you want, reader has a period (same girl) :) spencer us such a cutie in this :)))))))

summary: your shitty family is in town and spencer is away, what will you do?

pairing: spencerreid x reader

warnings: heavy family issues, mentions of stress and sickness, very brief mention of abuse (litch not talked about just referenced dw), kinda cursing (just realised i've never warned this before... opps) and i might've missed some!

My eyes are glued to the screen with a perpetual frown playing on my lips. It’s hard to try to care about my job when I have this looming feeling of dread hanging over me like a cloud. Spencer has been MIA for days now. He left in a hurry on Monday night for a case. It’s Saturday now and he hasn’t been responding to my calls. On top of that, I have dinner with my mother and father. Both of them make it abundantly clear that they’re disappointed in my career choice, which is ridiculous because I’m a lawyer. Not the right kind of lawyer they constantly say. I’m an environmental lawyer and I make good money. The only way to satiate their insufferable whining is with Spencer. They love him. They probably love him more than me at this point. Alas, I will just have to deal with them alone tonight. And today has already been one hell of a day. First, Morgan called me,asking where Spencer was, telling me that they finished and that they should be home soon. He had not come home yet. Secondly, I feel like shit, an allergic reaction, my period and some random nausea all add up to making me feel itchy, gross, and practically vile all over. Thirdly, a huge pimple has decided to pop up on my face and  just know my mother will comment on it. My mother is one of those women who look effortlessly put-together 24/7. I am not one of those women. She does not like women who don’t look effortlessly put together. Aka, she barely tolerates me. 

I sigh and close my laptop screen, unable to reread the same few sentences again and again, hoping that they would get into my brain. I’m defending a client, one of my firm's biggest clients, in court next week. They were accused of illegal dumping (dumping they did not commit) and now they’re being sued for 2 million dollars. I slump out of my desk chair and out of my home office, locking it behind me for the weekend ahead. If I have court next week and Spencer is coming home after a difficult case, then we’ll need a day or rest and relaxation together. That is, if he even bothers to come home. I busy myself with getting ready and try to push those thoughts out of my head. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The last hour of my life has been 60 minutes of absolute misery. Why did I ever accept this invite? My mother excuses herself to the bathroom and my father excuses himself for a cigarette, I nod along. Then it hits me… my dad doesn’t smoke anymore. I stare at the door and before I can stop myself my face contorts into a frown once again. Amelia, my sister. The sister that I haven't seen in years. The sister that bullied and abused me throughout our teenage years. Fuck. 

“Amelia?” I question, looking at the blonde woman who looks… different. She’s obviously older than I remember, and a bit more… I don’t know how to put it. Her blonde hair surpasses her waist and she seems to be pregnant? Her blue eyes seem dull and lack a certain vividness they used to sparkle with. She’s the typical peaking in high-school mean girl who became a nurse girl. I honestly can’t believe I used to look up to her. 

“It’s so good to see you!” She smiles, one of her fake-bitchy smiles and I grimace as she tries to hug me. “I just wanted to know how you’re doing, especially with the baby on the way, I’ll need all the help I can get!”

My heart drops. “Oh!” Is all I can manage. She sits in the seat beside me and I instinctively move further away. Just as I think this stupid dinner can’t get any worse, her pervy fiancé, Johnny, walks in.

“No Spencer?” He smirks. “What? Did you two break up? He was always too vanilla for you, you need a real man-” 

“No, sorry. I was just late. I had to come straight from the jet,” Spencer smiles from behind him. My parents' eyes light up, as Amelia and Johnny’s faces fall. I smile appreciatively at him as he hands the flowers he brought over to my parents and sits beside me, a comforting hand on my thigh. 

“How’s work, Spencer?” My father asks, his undivided attention on Spencer.

“It’s good, strenuous but good. Our cases recently haven’t been too difficult- though there was one that had a puzzle I thought you might enjoy…”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

I walk inside our house behind him, a million thoughts at once flowing through my head. We walk to the kitchen, he sits me down and takes off my shoes for me, a true gentleman. 

He presses a kiss to my cheek and smiles. “You look beautiful.”

I just nod back, a small smile on my lips. 

“Is everything alright?” He asks, turning to me, his hands resting on my waist. 

“Fine,” I tiredly smile. “Just… you know, it’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

“You know, saying that makes me worry more, right?:” He smiles softly, though we both know he’s serious. 

“I just… I can’t believe she just showed up, like 7 years  of not seeing her and she just shows up? Like it’s casual? And then asks for our help with her baby? Like she did nothing to me? Like she-” I stop myself, determined not to cry right now. 

“Angel, it’s ok, let it out,” he soothes, a hand on my back, rubbing comforting circles. 

“I don’t want to cry though, they’re not worth crying over.”

“Then how about we get ready for bed, yeah angel?” He offers, a tired look in his eyes. I nod and press a soft to his perfect lips. He smiles against my mouth, his hands finding the sides of my face. I run a hand through his hair. He pulls away softly, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” I smile. “Thank you for coming, my knight in shining armour.” 

“I enjoyed it. Watching your father fail to solve a simple puzzle was amusing.” He smirks, a mischievous glint in his eye as I roll my eyes. 

“We’re not all geniuses,” I remind him. 

“You are.”

“And how am I a genius?” I chuckle.

“You’re dating me, you clearly have superior taste and intelligence,” he says matter-of-factly. I gigle at his antics and kiss him again. He pulls away and grabs my hand, leading me into our room. We both opt out of brushing our teeth and washing our faces, a makeup wipe sufficing for removing my makeup. He pulls me into bed with him, and finally, after a long week, I finally lie down in bed with him, his arms around me in a bear-hug of sorts. This is heaven. He’s my knight in shining armour. Thank God for Dr. Spencer Reid. 

[leclerc-s]

karma - part eight

series masterlist // previous // next

redbullracing and natalia_leclerc posted new stories

a very special guest here at imola 🐾🐶 baby leo meeting auntie lily and auntie kika for the first time 📸 - francesca.cgomes

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redbullracing pre-race vs post race at imola (charles' version)

tagged: charles_leclerc

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charles_leclerc QUICK SOMEONE SCREENSHOT THIS SHOWING SUKI LIKES ME BEFORE SHE UNLIKES IT!!

sukiwaterhouse it was a slip of the finger lechair charles_leclerc 🫵 caught lacking in 4k!!!

maxverstappen1 where's my version??

redbullracing slow your bulls mr. verstappen, it's coming charles_leclerc you just can't compete with my pretty face. maxverstappen1 they're using you for likes klootzak redbullracing what can we say, the italians love charles leclerc charles_leclerc WOW!! I'M TELLING KIMI! redbullracing boss-man said, 'i don't care. stop bothering me.'

user1 they way the stands were decked in ferrari red but they were chanting and screaming for charles will forever be engraved in my brain

user2 as an italian myself, we may not support red bull but we will 100% throw hands for charles user3 amen sister

user4 the italians once again proven that they will never not be normal about charles leclerc.

olliebearman to quote arthur, 'he's on that king shit’ ❤︎ by redbullracing, natalia_leclerc, sebastianvettel and other

user5 not seb liking that 😂 user6 that's his surrogate son. he'll support when he can.

landonorris i think this might be the first time i've stood on the italian podium and they've cheered so loud for a non-ferrari driver

georgerussell63 haven't you heard? he's their princess diana. alex_albon the italians are feral for charles leclerc charles_leclerc what can i say, i'm just that likeable. carlossainz55 that's debatable landonorris no, please don't do this. i can't be involved in this. natalia_leclerc I KNOW YOUR JOBLESS ASS ISN'T TALKING BITCH!! sukiwaterhouse only i can bully charles! bensantos_ruiz so now that you've lost your seat this is the tactic you're going to use? very mature carlos. carlossainz55 when your brother-in-law can stop hiding behind your 'father' and his little guard dog, i'll be mature. bensantos_ruiz i know the man who constantly hides behind his father and family name isn't fucking talking. it would just be a shame if someone (me) spilled all the gossip on your family, like that pr girlfriend of yours. i know you also didn't insinuate my sister was a bitch, when you're the biggest one of them all.

natalia leclerc added four people

natalia leclerc welcome my children

natalia leclerc + charles

oscar piastri-leclerc oh so he was serious about the adoption thing?

ollie bearman-leclerc they never joke about anything. i told them i didn't want to stay in my hotel for the monaco grand prix weekend and suddenly i'm staying the week with them. charles leclerc you said, 'the bed is going to fuck up my back. it sucks.' charles leclerc and so like the responsible parents we are, we invited you to stay with us.

logan sargeant-leclerc oscar picked the most unserious couple to be his grid parents.

natalia leclerc you're apart of this too florida boy

logan sargeant-leclerc i have grid parents now?? what about jenson??

ollie bearman-leclerc this also means you've gained grid grandpas (nat's dad and a secret second one iykyk) and grid uncles (nat's brother, enzo, and arthur) charles leclerc jenson doesn't count because he's not on the grid anymore. he's like your adopted dad.

ollie bearman-leclerc like seb is with you?

charles leclerc OLIVER!

natalia leclerc no, no, let him speak!! he's right, even my dad think so too!!

oscar piastri-leclerc yeah, even logan and i know that charles

logan sargeant-leclerc this is like oscar denying that mark is his grid dad, or does that not count because mark's not on the grid?

ollie bearman-leclerc see, oscar can't even deny that, we ALL know it's true. ollie bearman-leclerc we've been over this logan, mark is his adopted dad. like jenson is with you. duh.

charles leclerc sebastian is not my grid dad

natalia leclerc charlie, you do not want to start this argument

charles leclerc NAME ONE TIME!!

ollie bearman-leclerc yesterday when sebastian reminded you to have breakfast because you ALWAYS forget natalia leclerc today when sebastian came over with lunch because we didn't have any groceries. natalia leclerc which, for the record we did, but you told me, 'no amour, stay in bed. we can cuddle and order in food.' oscar piastri-leclerc during bahrain when you complained how thirsty you were and seb handed you like three water bottles. logan sargeant-leclerc in australia when you said in an interview that you could go for some tim-tams after the race and seb came back with like 5 packages. oscar piastri-leclerc SEBASTIAN WAS THE ONE WHO STOLE MY TIM-TAMS? FOR CHARLES?

natalia leclerc shall we continue??

charles leclerc non, i get your point.

logan sargeant-leclerc next time make sure we don't have receipts.

oscar piastri-leclerc your other grid parent is lewis, no i will not elaborate.

ollie bearman-leclerc i will. i saw the tweets. kimi giggled when people said he was the brocedes divorce child. so technically you have a half-brother charles leclerc ollie, what on earth are you going on about now?

natalia leclerc obviously the f1 family tree? that we helped start after suki started the rumor that we had a secret child aka oscar

oscar piastri-leclerc so why the heck was i not adopted sooner? i was already being called your child charles leclerc that's because nat kept talking about you to suki and riley when you two met back in 2020.

logan sargeant-leclerc so by association edward cullen knows who oscar is?

ollie bearman-leclerc oh my god, that is so not fair

oscar piastri-leclerc i can't believe you guys care so much about twilight

natalia leclerc it's peak cinema oscar!!

oscar piastri-leclerc that's debatable ollie bearman-leclerc it is not! name another movie soundtrack that hits like crack just like twilight does

charles leclerc were you even born when the first twilight movie came out?

ollie bearman-leclerc i was 3 but that doesn't matter charles! logan sargeant-leclerc i just googled it, and i would've been a month away from turning 8. so how the fuck do you know the release date off the top of your head oliver? ollie bearman-leclerc that's not important logan!

natalia leclerc i will not stand for this twilight slander oscar. i'm calling a movie night. and we're watching twilight

oscar piastri-leclerc can't we watch harry potter instead? i prefer that over twilight.

charles leclerc ME TOO!!

ollie bearman-leclerc this is why suki hates you charles... and nothing will ever top the twilight soundtrack

logan sargeant-leclerc dare i say the hunger games?

ollie bearman-leclerc OH MY GOD! HOW COULD I FORGET??

natalia leclerc and now he's going to talk about how gale should've died instead of finnick for the next 45 minutes. sam had the riveting experience of through a ollie yap session about the hunger games.

logan sargeant-leclerc he's not wrong!! charles leclerc what??

ollie bearman-leclerc FATHER HASN'T SEEN THE HUNGER GAMES??

ollie bearman-leclerc this is embarrassing, we can no longer be related.

charles leclerc I'M SORRY I WAS BUSY RACING AS A TEENAGER OLIVER!!

natalia leclerc booo 🍅🍅!!!

oscar piastri-leclerc something tells me charles lives in a harry potter bubble

natalia leclerc you'd be correct. he was OBSESSED growing up.

charles leclerc lies. i was not obsessed.

logan sargeant-leclerc based on the fact that i can google you and harry potter and find multiple videos of you talking about harry potter and multiple pictures of you in harry potter costumes or poses. i would say, yes, you were obsessed.

natalia leclerc does george still have the picture??

charles leclerc DO NOT SPEAK OF THAT PICTURE!!

ollie bearman-leclerc well no the curiosity is killing me, what is this picture we are speaking of?

charles leclerc mon cœur, please don't do this. natalia leclerc ollie it's the greatest picture ever. i swear you'll love it. i just have to convince george to send it to me. oscar piastri-leclerc i, too, am now curious as to what this picture even is logan sargeant-leclerc my curiosity has also been peaked.

charles leclerc i've been betrayed by my own wife and kids

liam lawson changed ollie bearman's name to ollie bearman-leclerc

ollie bearman-leclerc LMAOOOOOO!!! LEO JUST BIT CHARLES FOR BEING NEAR NAT!!

ollie bearman-leclerc IJBOL!!!

sebastian vettel what the heck do those letters even mean?

liam lawson laughing my ass off and i just bust out laughing

sebastian vettel kids these days will be the death of me.

max verstappen leo is making me proud.

charles leclerc you're just mad that the admins love me more than you.

daniel ricciardo that's because one of you loves media and the other doesn't.

natalia leclerc i don't even know why leo even bit charles.

arthur leclerc ah, this reminds me of the time charles threatened to bite nat's ex-boyfriend.

charles leclerc literally shut up?

yuki tsunoda like father like son

ollie bearman-leclerc i would never bite someone yuki!

ollie bearman-leclerc my brothers logan and oscar would also never do this. i think.

max verstappen you were serious about that?!

charles leclerc of course, they are my sons.

natalia leclerc congrats seb, you're a grandpa of 4!

ollie bearman-leclerc and step-dad of 1 if we count kimi!

ollie bearman-leclerc antonelli not our team principle.

sebastian vettel i really don't want to know

daniel ricciardo trust me, as someone who went down the f1 twitter rabbit hole, you really don't want to know.

liam lawson don't worry seb, we'll ask george to make a presentation so you can understand.

sebastian vettel please don't.

ollie bearman-leclerc too late grandpa.

kimi räikkönen HA!

natalia leclerc added 5+ people

natalia leclerc welcome people. i'm pregnant. goodbye.

mark webber why the hell am i here? and how did she get my number?

oscar piastri-leclerc jeez i wonder who could've possibly given her your number.

ben santos-ruiz please tell me charles already knew and this isn't how he found out.

max verstappen based on the way he looks i'm going to say no.

ollie bearman-leclerc I'M GOING TO BE A BROTHER?!

mark webber who's going to tell him? santiago ruiz don't you fucking dare webber. sebastian vettel leave him alone mark.

jenson button congrats?? i'm so confused.

charles leclerc WHERE IS MY WIFE??

oscar piastri-leclerc depends do i get to pass you into turn one tomorrow?? charles leclerc OSCAR JACK PIASTRI-LECLERC!! WHERE IS MY WIFE?

jenson button oh my god. this is the most drama i've been involved in recent years. i love this

ollie bearman-leclerc that's a lie because according to twitter you hate danica patrick. jenson button hate is such a strong word, it's more like dispise.

oscar piastri-leclerc i, hypothetically, saw her run past mclaren and into the mercedes garage.

charles leclerc LEWIS!

lewis hamilton i'm not a snitch.

max verstappen we are now down a driver. i repeat we are down a driver. he just disappeared.

oscar piastri-leclerc maybe i can win tomorrow now.

charles leclerc i hope carlos rams into you tomorrow logan sargeant-leclerc that's not very live, laugh, love of you charles. ollie bearman-leclerc 😧😧

jenson button wait, did she just find out that's she's pregnant?

natalia leclerc well, leo bit charles the other day which i was telling pascale, suki, and riley about and then i started talking about how i was really craving some stroopwafels and my plans to sneak into max's drivers room to steal some, which is weird.

mark webber why is that weird? santiago ruiz she hates stroopwafels... max verstappen which i think is blasphemy, but whatever.

natalia leclerc THEN! i started talking about how emotional i've been lately and how i hate the way fish smells, which is a bummer because i love eating fish.

charles leclerc WHERE THE HELL DID YOU GO?

natalia leclerc AND! according to suki, who just had a baby a few months ago, i was experiencing pregnancy symptoms, so we sent someone out to get a couple pregnancy tests, i took them, and voila!

charles leclerc WOMAN! WHERE ARE YOU?! THIS ISN'T FUNNY!!

logan sargeant-leclerc as apart of my mission of dethroning leo as the favorite child, i come to report she is with lily in alex's driver room, carmen is also with them.

benjamin santos-ruiz natalia, i swear to god if you move from where you're at

natalia leclerc 🫡 staying put, got it.

santiago ruiz i swear i did a better job at raising them.

sebastian vettel we know, they just met charles and went off the walls.

charles leclerc THIS ISN'T MY FAULT.

lewis hamilton kill me now.

ollie bearman no can do grandpa

lewis hamilton i don't think i like you very much bearman. ollie bearman 😧😧

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redbullracing people of the internet, we present to you, your 2024 monaco grand prix winner. CHARLES LECLERC DOES IT!! oh, and did we mention it was a leclerc double podium?

tagged: charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc, oscarpiastri

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bensantos_ruiz before someone, the sainz family, says that my dad hates charles or something, please let it be known that my dad hasn't stopped crying since charles won.

maxverstappen1 favoritism, yet again.

redbullracing listen sir, you've got multiple wins in monaco charles_leclerc yeah max, let me shine! maxverstappen1 no ❤️ people will accuse me of going soft. oscarpiastri this coming from the man who cried last night when he realized charles was going to win monaco? liamlawson40 i can't defend you anymore max. danielricciardo YOU WERE THE FIRST ONE TO MAKE FUN OF HIM!!! liamlawson40 eh potato, potahto!

sukiwaterhouse i guess i'm proud of you or whatever

natalia_leclerc you literally cried with me. charles_leclerc admit it, you actually like me! sukiwaterhouse you're growing on me like mold charles_leclerc i'll take it!!

fernandoalo_oficial felicitaciones charles!!

user7 and i guess this is all the conformation we needed to know fernando was team charles and not team carlos user8 please, this old man has been on charles side since he said, 'it is frustrating to give your everything to a team only for you to get nothing in return.' user9 fernando was a lecfosi confirmed.

user10 ABOUT FUCKING TIME THEY GAVE HIM THE WIN HE DESERVED!!

natalia_leclerc words don't even begin to describe how proud i am of you 💙

charles_leclerc je t'aime tellement 💙💙 bensantos_ruiz believe me, he's well aware. the fact that he kissed you with tears running down your face and snot on your nose amazes me. natalia_leclerc the snot part is not fucking true! oscarpiastri slander on mother will not be tolerated olliebearman dishonor on you! dishonor on your cow! logansargeant what they said! bensantos_ruiz oh my god

mrsamclaflin congrats charles!

charles_leclerc thank you sam! olliebearman JUSTICE FOR FINNICK! logansargeant ollie no!

user11 RED BULL MANAGED TO DO WHAT B*NOTTO FAILED TO DO!!

user12 s*inz family found screaming in a ditch somewhere. ♥ by ben_santosruiz, natalia_leclerc, olliebearman and others

user13 the family that likes shady comments stays together user12 currently screaming because they liked my comment but also so true bestie.

natalia_leclerc, bensantos_ruiz, and olliebearman posted new stories

post monaco win duties ❣️ mon amour is a monaco grand prix winner brother is going to regret this tomorrow so much 😂 enjoy it charlie, you only win monaco for the first time once this is not appropriate behavior to have in front of your children!

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@vroomvroommuppett @charlesgirl16 @someoneintheworld @iconicbookstore @evans-dejong @minmira95 @d3kstar @lollie0024 @magical-spit @rockyhayzkid @weekendlusting @ironspdy @namgification @moonyzsworld @emilyval1 @lorenakaspersen @spilled-coffee-cup @butterfly-lover @blushmimi @lovely-blackinnon @six-call @bingewatche @vroomvroom95 @lesliiieeeee @fletchingarcher @casperlikej @minmira95 @nichmeddar @chezmardybum @nikfigueiredo @buckybarnessweetheart @scuderiadevils @bellalilo @sargeantdumbass @seesaw-it @evie-119 @doodlehunz @dark-night-sky-99 @si1ver06 @blupblupfish

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¡leclerc-s speaks! i actually don’t know what i’m doing with this story but i’m having so much fun with it either way. the plot of the fic was lost long ago. fun fact: originally i was going to go with a post monaco pregnancy but that was too corny so i decided, what if she just finds out on quali day instead to add to the humor. logan, oscar, and pato are my pookies and i will find a way to include them in any story.

¡disclaimer! this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!

[avianyuh]

Lecture Notes | Jake Sim

Summary: In which Y/N, a college student, can’t seem to focus in her psychology lecture due to an attractive boy. The culprit? Apparently his name is Jake. 

Word Count; 4.5k

Isn’t it funny how a man can completely derail your priorities? Okay, let me explain myself.

There I was, sitting in my psychology lecture, notebook open, wearing my comfiest sweater and sweatpants. After all, it was a Friday lecture. I was mentally done with the week and already planning out my watchlist of movies for the weekend. And of course, studying, (If I had time…)

What was comical about that Friday, and almost a quarter of the semester's lectures, my notes would start out strong, really organized. I’m talking color coded with six different colors; light blue, peach, neon pink, yellow, pastel green, and a very pretty shade of lavender. Bullet pointed, sectioned by main and sub topics. The whole nine yards. But then, after about a page, the notes would start to look sloppy, then, absolutely nothing. I paid the price on my midterm for the lack of proper note taking by the way. Sorry to Sigmund Freud. Upon first inspection, it would seem like psychology is not my strong suite. But that argument is easily debunked by my last A grade from my last semester's psychology class.

So, what’s the problem? Well, it’s this guy. And in my defense, I see other girls getting distracted by him too! Which I secretly hate, but hey, he’s not my boyfriend. I’ve had one encounter with him, three weeks ago, a Monday to be exact. He sat in front of me and handed me a paper that needed to be passed back. Our fingers touched and I noticed how calloused they had felt. Call me a loser, but I sat there for the rest of the lecture hypothesizing why his fingers felt so rough. Yet again, I completely fault myself for doing so badly on that midterm.

His name is Jake. The reason I know his name is because I heard the professor call him by his name a few times. All I really know about him is that he comes into class routinely late. In the beginning of the semester, he would come in 5 minutes late. At first the professor took notice and called him out, but after the second week, he for some reason seemed to look the other way and Jake started showing up 10 minutes late, which has become the norm. He tip-toes to wherever his friend is sitting, high-fiving him and slinking down in his seat. But, I’ll give him credit, once he actually makes it to class, he takes a lot of notes, occasionally volunteering an answer or question. I don’t know what it is about him. Maybe his voice? It’s really calming, he’s pretty soft-spoken. Plus, the fact that he has an accent, my guess would be Australian? But I don’t know that many people with accents so maybe he’s English? I’ll probably never know…Or maybe it’s his eyes that make him so attractive? He has these kind, brown eyes. To me, he’s just intriguing. I know nothing about him other than the fact that his time management skills are horrible and he has a large group of friends. I see him around on campus a lot. A swarm of people follow him around, always laughing. I also can’t help but notice the rotation of girls that seem to be on his arm every other week. They always look so happy with him. Usually the girl is walking with him, staring at him adoringly, but he’s always looking straight ahead. I never understood that.

And not too long after I see him with one girl, there’s a new one doing the exact same thing. Right after I had that passing the paper back encounter with him, I saw him walking on campus with this girl. Like I said, normally, he’s looking straight ahead, but this particular time, he looked right at me as we passed each other. I quickly averted my gaze away from him, internally screaming all the way back to my dorm room.

One time I went to a party with a friend of mine. She made me go, and said it would be fun. What a liar… So I get there, the dorm room is packed, barely any room to move around. The room was decorated with LED lights that were all red, I swear it looked like a rave or something. Turns out, I have claustrophobia by the way. I felt like I couldn’t breathe due to the lack of personal space. I saw Jake there, which in hindsight wasn’t very surprising because it seemed like my whole campus was trying to fit into that dorm room and hallway. I sat in the corner with my friend who 20 minutes into the party was also starting to come down with a case of party-goer's remorse. I watched from that stool in the corner as he danced with his date. How they made out against the wall. I even watched when he stumbled to the cooler to get another drink, obviously drunk. Then I saw him wander back over to her, and accidently spill his drink all over her blouse. The people in the surrounding area all went Oooooo, and the girl gasped. Stomping her foot, she yelled out, “What the fuck Jake?! You did that on purpose!” Then she shoved him. Now, in her defense, I could see that he was trying to conceal his laughter as he handed out some half-assed apology. She stormed out of the party, leaving him and his friends in hysterics. “Babe, I’m sorry, but accidents happen.” Jake threw his hands up defensively as his friends laughed at her. That next Monday in class I didn’t even notice that he had snuck in. And for a few days, I honestly thought I was over my little infatuation with Jake. I choked it up to him being an attractive douchebag.

But remember, I said I thought I got over my infatuation. And here I am. Sitting in class, empty seat to my right. The person who usually sat there, a guy with a buzzcut who always came in with a cup of coffee from the coffee cart outside and his giant water bottle, was seemingly missing. Overall, a quiet guy. The few times I had spoken to him had been pleasant. Just a few basic, ‘Hey's' and ‘Nice weather, right?’ or even a ‘Nervous about the exam?’.

15 minutes into my lecture. It was a rainy day. I already mentioned my lecture attire, my sweater, a tan colored cozy knit one and my black sweatpants. My notes were organized and I was actually pretty invested in the topic today. Everything was going well, but I couldn’t wait to be done for the day and back in my bed. After all, it was cold and dark outside. But then, the sound of the door creaking open, the gust of wind that came along with it hitting me and making me shiver. I didn’t even have to look up to know who it was. I could hear his footsteps, searching for wherever his friend was sitting. But this time, the footsteps started to sound more frantic. I could hear him pacing, but I refused to look in his direction. After all, I was supposed to be focused on my professor, not him. And I saw first hand how much of an inconsiderate jerk he could be at that party. He wasn’t worth the distraction and another week of incomplete lecture notes. Then the footsteps started to get closer. Going from a distant tapping sound to almost a persistent stomp.

And that’s when I felt a tap on my shoulder. “Um, excuse me?” That familiar voice, just a whisper, was now in my ear. “Is anyone sitting here?” I looked up at him, taking note of his beautiful smile as I nodded my head yes to his question. His closed lip smile transformed into a full toothed one, “Thanks!” he said enthusiastically. I quickly looked back down at my notebook, scribbling down what was on the board. I suddenly felt hyperconscious of my breathing. How loud or erratic it may have sounded to the insanely attractive Australian next to me. I wondered if he could hear me swallowing. And I prayed that my stomach wouldn’t make any noise for the rest of the class, considering I felt myself becoming hungry. I tried to be as quiet as possible. Also trying to make sure that my elbow didn’t accidentally touch his. A few minutes later, I felt him nudge my arm. At first I didn’t look because I thought it was a mistake. “Excuse me?”, he whispered again. I turned my head to face him, looking over expectantly as I waited for him to continue asking his question “Sorry, I don’t mean to bother you, but would you mind if I looked at your notes? I know I should have gotten here sooner… I get it though if you don’t want to share…” he rambled. I held up my hand up in front of his face, stopping him from whispering.

“Sure, I don’t mind.” I shrugged as I moved my notebook closer to him.

“Thank you so much!” he exclaimed as he started to copy them down.

“No problem.” I replied. Well, there goes another week of half-complete notes, I thought to myself as I tried to refocus my attention back on the professor. By the end of the lecture, Jake had taken down all my notes and I had missed the second half of the lecture. As I started to pack up my things and head out, Jake did the same. Normally he rushes right out and has a group of people waiting for him outside of the lecture hall. Today, he was lingering. And then just as I was zipping up my bag, he cleared his throat. I looked up at him and he stared back at me, looking like he wanted to say something.

“I just wanted to say thank you again for letting me copy the notes down. You have great note taking skills, not to mention, really nice handwriting.” He complimented me, that same warm smile on his face. I couldn’t understand how someone could appear to be so kind, yet come off as so inconsiderate of other people. Nonetheless, I couldn’t help but admit that I was flattered by the compliment.

“Oh, thank you. I actually always thought my handwriting was sloppy.” I responded back. Throwing my bag over my shoulder and pushing my chair in. I stared out the window, noticing the light rain had now turned into a heavy downpour. I groaned as I laid my bag back on the table, unzipping it and pulling out my jacket and umbrella. Jake looked at me in confusion upon hearing me groan, before peeking past my shoulder and letting out an understanding ‘Ah’ before doing the same as me. We stood in silence as we both put on our jackets. I made the first move to leave, though he was closest to the aisle. He made no attempt to move as I tried to maneuver around him.

He stopped me again, speaking up, “I feel kind of bad. You missed out on taking notes for the second half of the lecture because of me.” He continued, moving out of my way. “Do you have any other classes today?” he questioned. I pursed my lips together as I tried to figure out a response to his first statement and more importantly, what he was trying to imply with the question regarding my schedule.

“Well, first of all, it’s okay, I was paying attention so I’ll probably just go home and try to write whatever I remember down. But to answer your question, no I don’t have any other classes today.” I decided to be truthful with him, as I assumed he was just asking me to be nice for letting him copy my notes.

“So you were going back to your dorm after this?” He raised his eyebrow. I let out an awkward laugh.

“Um, yeah, it’s a torrential downpour out there, my hiking plans have been ruined for the rest of the day.” I responded sarcastically. To my snarky response, his warm smile now morphed into a devilish grin.

“Instead of sitting inside all night, why don’t I buy you a coffee and give you the rest of the notes” Jake proposed. To that question, I gave him a puzzled look.

“But you didn’t get the rest of the notes either?” I responded back, confused.

“Yeah, but the professor keeps a copy of the lecture notes in that desk over there. And luckily for you, I know how to pick locks.” He bragged, pulling something pointy out of his pocket as he started to make his way down the steps towards the professor's desk.

“Wait, doesn’t he take his lesson plan with him?” I called out after him, looking around the two exits nervously, expecting someone to come in and catch Jake breaking into the professor’s locked drawer.

“Not on Fridays. You’d be surprised how many of the professors leave things out in plain sight.” He explained as he bent down so he was eye level with the drawer. He pulled out a lock pick and got to work. His eyes focused intently on the drawer.

“But this isn’t out in plain sight, you’re literally picking his lock…” You tried to rationalize.

“So…Who cares, he already taught it. It’s not like we’re cheating. We’re just going to get the notes and I’ll sneak back in and put it back before Monday morning. I do it all the time.” He got silent for a minute before he jumped up. “Aha!” and with that, the drawer was open. He pulled out the lecture plan, before he grabbed your hand with his free one and started running up the stairs. I tried to keep up with him, your head spinning by how weird your seemingly calm Friday had become. “Grab your bag. You know the coffee shop across from this building right?” He asked. I squinted my eyes before nodding as I threw my bag over my shoulder. “By the way…What’s your name?” Jake titled his head at you, waiting for a response.

“I’m Y/N.” I responded back, extended out my hand for a handshake. He smiled at me, making my heart sort of melt, before placing his hand in mine.

“Jake.” He said, and you pretended to act like you learning his name was a recent development.

“Nice to meet you, Jake”. I grinned as we both made your way out of the huge lecture doors. What was supposed to be a boring Friday just turned into one of the most surprising days of my life. By the time we made it to the coffee shop, fighting our way through the rain, and fully situated in the back of the coffee shop 10 minutes later, you pondered if all this really was going to amount to was a study date?You wondered if he had his next girl of the week yet? Or worse, what if you’d end up being his next temporary fix? You ended up telling yourself that you wouldn’t know how this would all pan out unless you gave him a chance. Part of you wanted to abandon whatever this was with Jake to go back to your dorm. A place where you didn’t feel self conscious in front of hot guys. The other part of you was really tempted to stay and try and see if there was more to him other than a cute accent, a rebellious streak and inviting eyes. I watched him closely, his back turned to face the counter as he placed the two orders. I noticed a friend of his had snuck up behind him, patting him on the back as they greeted each other. They were murmuring something to each other and I decided to look away before he caught me. I looked down at my phone as a way to look busy, but readjusted myself in the seat so I could get a small glimpse of Jake and his friend through my peripheral. All I could tell was that the conversation was light hearted, I heard something about an exam, a party over the weekend and then I heard his friend ask if he was at the coffee shop alone…To which I could see Jake out of the corner of my eye turn towards me. But they got kind of quiet as I assumed he was saying something about to his friend. I pretended to keep scrolling through my phone, even though I really had nothing to do on there. I texted my friend, who had hopefully finished all of her classes for the day. But to be honest, she was quite unreliable since she took a long time to respond to text messages. However this time after sending a quick, Hey, she surprisingly responded back almost instantly.

Hey! Done with all your classes?, she wrote.

Yeah. Going to go home pretty soon., I texted back.

Oh, you’re not home now? I was going to ask if you wanted to watch a movie? I have snaaacks… Now I’ll be frank, that offer did sound tempting.

I want to but I’m at the coffee shop trying to get some notes from this guy for my psychology class. It’s a long story. You explained.

WHO?! Anyone we know?, she questioned.

That guy Jake who I thought was cute…, I typed back.

Girl no! He’s such an asshole, remember that party?-

But before I could read the rest of her message, Jake appeared in front of me, setting down my coffee and sliding into the seat across from me. He gave me that beaming smile of his I had seen quite a lot of today. “Sorry, that took so long. I don’t know if you saw but that was my friend Jay.” He explained as he waved at his friend who was now on his way out of the coffee shop.

“Oh, no problem, the longer I sit here, hopefully the rain slows down and it’ll make the walk back to my dorm easier. But you didn’t take that long so don’t apologize.” I reassured Jake as he nodded understandingly. Jake stared at me for a minute, before opening and then closing his mouth, hesitant to speak. “What?”, I questioned, grinning at him. His eyes went wide, as he tried to conceal his smile. “No seriously? You looked like you were going to say something!”, I teased him, waving your hand for him to continue.

“No, it’s stupid.” he said under his breath. I hummed in response.

“Almost everything is stupid. Plus, I don’t judge.” I lied. The truth is, I can be pretty judgmental. Hey, I thought I had written Jake off as a douchebag, and I still wasn’t completely comfortable letting my guard down in front of him just yet.

“I don’t know, I just wish we had spoken to each other sooner. I’ve seen you around campus a few times and I knew we had a class together. But I never sat near you or anything pther than a few weeks ago...” He explained, avoiding eye contact with you. I took a sip of my coffee as I listened to Jake intently. “Plus, I know most people probably already formed their opinions of me…” He concluded.

“What do you mean?” I questioned, furrowing my eyebrows at him. He sighed and leaned back in his chair.

“Well, I come in late almost every class. And I know that’s fully on me. But I’m sure you’ve noticed?” he looked up at you hesitantly. I nodded my head in agreement and he groaned. You chuckled before trying to make him feel better.

“The professor doesn’t seem to care, so maybe it’s not a big deal? If it really bothered him, you probably would’ve been kicked out of the class.” I rationalized.

“He did want to kick me out of the class. Apparently my Dad made a phone call, they know each other from college. I got an angry call from him, telling me I was an embarrassment to the family, that I wouldn’t amount to anything, needed to get my act together, blah, blah, blah.” Jake’s voice got deeper, no, more frustrated as he looked as if he was thinking back to that said phone call. You leaned your arms on the table as you listened to him.

"Well…can I ask you a question if you promise to not get mad?” I tilted my head at him. He took a sip of his coffee as he hummed in response. “Why exactly do you come to class late?” He put down his coffee as he sighed again.

“Honestly? My other class is a business law one. It’s on the other side of the campus. One time I just skipped it, which was why I was on time for psychology. I explained it to my advisor and my father, but I can’t drop it because I need the credits. Whoever designed this campus was an idiot in my opinion.” He stated as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“That actually makes a lot of sense. I assumed that you just didn’t care enough to show up on time. But you always seemed interested because you’d ask a lot of questions so I was always kind of confused by the whole showing up late thing.” I explained as Jake kept his eyes on me. “Second question…how the hell did you get into the habit of picking locks to get the lecture plan.” I giggled, covering my mouth as he himself started to laugh.

“It was actually back in freshman year. I had been one of the last people in the room with a professor on a Friday. I noticed that she had left the lesson plan in her drawer. I needed a few more notes so I went down after she left the room and picked the lock. That was something I learned to do back when I was a kid. But all I did was copy what I needed and I put it back, I swear.” He explained, throwing his hands up defensively.

“Hey, I believe you. And if I didn’t say it before, I’m really thankful that you wanted to help me with the notes. You didn’t have to…” I responded.

“No, after all you did, it was only right. And now look, we got to know each other. I’m having a good time with you.” He confessed, fidgeting with his coffee cup. I mimicked his movements, starting to feel a little antsy. I toyed with the idea of laying out everything I was feeling about Jake with him. I was feeling unsure if he was truly just going to give me the notes and that would be it. I wondered if he just saw me as a potential friend. And of course, maybe he was into me, but I had no desire to date him for a week and then have to go the rest of college seeing a guy who dumped me around campus for two more years. But I guess I made the decision easy, because before I knew it, I was involuntarily blurting out all of my intrusive thoughts.

“Okay, I just have to ask now. I want to be transparent with you. I was aware of you before we officially met today. I also saw you around campus a lot. Is this simply just an exchange of notes and nothing more? It’s okay if that’s what this is, I mean, I get it. Or is this just you trying to be my friend? That’s fine too.” I halted my speech for a second, looking into his eyes. Now he was the one motioning for me to continue. His expression was more so on the serious side now as he waited to hear me out. “Or, um, are you interested in me? Oh god…” I hid my face in my hands as I mentally slapped myself for saying something that sounded so self absorbed. “I feel like an idiot. You probably have a girlfriend already, I always see you around campus with a different girl.” I decided I didn’t really need the notes after all. After all, what was another mediocre test grade? At least the first half of the notes were written down for the week, right? I stood up quickly, reaching for my coat and quickly throwing a few dollars on the table, a repayment for the coffee, though he hadn’t asked me to pay him back.

Jake quickly stood up, grabbing my hand, stopping me from reaching for my coat. “Wait, wait, wait. You didn’t even let me answer” He laughed lightheartedly as he tried to persuade you to sit back down. “I didn’t realize I was sending out so many mixed signals. I thought when I said that whole thing about seeing you around and wanting to talk to you, I made myself clear…” He rambled. But I was still confused by what he meant. And by the look on his face, he could tell you were still confused. “To be straight forward, yes. I sort of had the intention of asking you out. I like you.” I couldn’t help but feel my heart flutter upon hearing that. Then he continued, “I like how sarcastic you can be. And I really find how honest you are attractive, not to mention I think you’re gorgeous.” I hid my face again, but this time, he murmured no and raised your chin up so that you were looking right at him. “I thought this would be a great way to continue talking. I didn’t want to ask you out earlier because I didn’t want you to say no since we spent most of class just sitting, not really talking.” Jake explained. “And for the record, not all of those girls were people I was going out with. I went out with two different girls between freshman year and now. The rest have all been friends.”

I thought back to that party. The girl he was with who he spilled the drink on. I assumed the girl from the party was most likely his ex-girlfriend. Though I was still curious, I didn’t want to pry. At first you didn’t know how to respond to him. Overall, you were ecstatic on the inside. “I’m willing to go on an actual date with you. But preferably, not when it's thundering and down pouring.” I joked as I turned my head toward the huge coffee shop window.

“I agree.” Jake responded, laughing. “But, how about we wait the storm out here and I’ll walk you back to your dorm later?” You both looked at each other, smiling. You couldn’t help the blush that was now creeping up on your cheeks.

"After the notes though! That’s how this all started…” I said as we both pulled out our notebooks. Two hours later, another coffee, two sandwiches and a 10 minute walk to my dorm, I had a date scheduled for tomorrow night, exchanged phone numbers and a long story to tell my friend. And to think it was all thanks to notes…

[absurdthirst]

Accidentally Mrs. Bravo {Dieter Bravo x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 24.8k

Warnings: Drug use, alcohol, dub con due to spiked drinks, vaginal sex, oral sex (male and female receiving), vaginal fingering, Dieter being a sub, face sitting, period oral (Dieter has his red wings), hand jobs, angst, Dieter being a sassy asshole. 

Comments: Being PR for Dieter Bravo is a nightmare, the idea of him going to Vegas for a birthday weekend absolutely horrifies you. Even more when it’s suggest you go with him. It’s going to be horrible, you just know it. Especially when you wake up married to him. 

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.

When Dieter told his team he wanted to go to Vegas for his birthday, you had told him no. As his PR manager, Dieter and Vegas are a bad combination. God knows what he’d do when fuelled by drugs, gambling and endless booze. Surrounded by people with camera phones and men and women who would want him to fuck them. Maybe get knocked up. You get a headache even thinking about it. When his manager suggested you accompany him to make sure he says out of trouble, you protested and put your foot down, telling her that you hate Vegas. It’s a cesspool of bad decisions. However, the next thing you know you’re on a private jet going to Vegas while Dieter snorts coke off of the mahogany table while his “friends” drink champagne. You know this is going to end in Disaster.

Inhaling deeply, Dieter throws his head back, letting the endorphins rush through his system and he lets out a loud whoop. “Fuck, that’s some good shit!” He crows and looks around, spotting you sitting in one of the plush leather chairs across from the couch with a sour look on your face. “You want some?” He asks, offering you the one hundred dollar bill he had rolled up to snort the coke with. “Maybe it’ll get that stick out of your ass.”

You watch him with disgust. You might have been hired to handle his PR but the man makes it a never ending job. Being caught with prostitutes, arrested with coke possession and a general bad attitude with paps has made you have many a sleepless night. This trip will be no exception. “No, thank you.” You respond coolly, shaking your head. “The stick will remain firmly in my ass for the entire trip.” 

Dieter chuckles, pulling his hand back, “I bet you like having something up your ass.” His joke makes you roll your eyes and you cross your legs, looking out of the window.

Huffing at your lack of appreciation for his joke, Dieter passes the rolled up bill off to one of his friends and frowns at you. “Why are you here if you don’t want to have fun?” He whines. “You should have stayed in L.A.” He doesn’t want you here. All you do is complain about his behavior, his manners, the way he dresses. He wants to relax and have fun, not be nagged to death by a fish wife. If he wanted that, he would get married.

“I don’t want to be here but your team - including me - thought it would be best to come with you to control what happens. The last thing you need with your new movie coming out is a mug shot.” You tell him. “Besides, I have fun. My fun just doesn’t involve doing copious amounts of drugs, having sex with prostitutes, and drinking more tequila than what’s available in the entire country of Mexico.” 

Dieter scoffs, “what do you do to have fun? Read?” His words make you bristle, swallowing down your retort that reading would be better than spending him in his company. 

“Just behave yourself and we won’t have any issues.” You finally respond, glancing around at his “friends.” All people who are here because of what he can give them, not because they like him as a person.

“I always behave myself.” Dieter gives you an offended look and shakes his head. “Just because I don’t adhere to your version of behaving doesn’t mean I don’t behave.” He chuckles and looks around the plane. “Haven’t you ever just had fun? Fuck what they say or what they think? Just be yourself?”

You try not to react, but his words hit. You went to college for media and you ended up getting a job right out of college with a PR firm. You needed to prove yourself and that meant working all hours. You’ve never really let your hair down and done whatever you wanted. You huff, shaking your head at him. “You don’t behave. You make my job so much harder. I’d hate to see you when you’re not behaving.”

“Have I flashed my dick at the paps?” He asks you, titling his head and smiling in amusement at the mental image of doing just that. “Or come up with some love child with a prostitute? Because I’ve fucked a lot of women. It could have happened.”

God, you hate this man. He’s so self indulgent it infuriates you. He does what he wants, when he wants. Damn the consequences. “Just try to not let either of those things happen during this weekend.” You reach for your phone, deciding to check your emails while he continues to indulge. 

When the pilot announces the plane will be landing soon, you steel yourself for what will no doubt be an exhausting weekend. The plane lands and the limos are waiting on the tarmac. Dieter’s assistant - who luckily has the weekend off - had arranged every detail even down to the baggie of coke waiting for him in the limo.

“Vegas baby!” Dieter squints and nods his head so that his sunglasses flip down onto his nose and he pushes them up. He wraps his arm around the girl he had met just this morning who had said she would be willing to go to Vegas with him. He smirks as he looks back at you, “try to keep up.” He tells you before he and the bottle blonde he’s wrapped around stumble down the plane’s stairs onto the tarmac.

You scoff in disgust, watching him squeeze the woman’s ass when she gets into the limo. He’s wearing sunglasses and it’s fucking nighttime. What an asshole. You get into the limo, sitting in the far corner and he has already found the baggie. This is going to be the weekend from hell. The woman kisses his jaw and he manages to snort some coke off of her tits when she pushes them together. “Classy.” You mutter, ignoring the entourage.

Dieter doesn’t even pay attention to you, too busy motor boating Cindy, or was it Kathy? He doesn’t know, nor does he really care. He just wants to get to the hotel and get another bottle of champagne. “We should hit the club!” Someone suggests, and like the easily distracted creature that he is, Dieter latches onto the idea. 

“A strip club!” He agrees happily. 

You shake your head. “No. No strip clubs.” You put your foot down. You’re not going into a strip club with Dieter Bravo. 

“It’s my fucking birthday. We are doing what I want.” Dieter growls, pissed that you’re doing everything you can to ruin his birthday weekend. 

“No strip clubs.” You repeat, crossing your arms.

“Go sit at the hotel if you don’t want to go.” Dieter huffs. “This limo is going to a strip club.” He lowers the glass between the back and the driver and grins. “Hey Buddy, take us to the best fucking strip club in Vegas. ‘Kay?”

You huff, knowing you have no choice. You can’t leave him be. He would run riot in Vegas. “You don’t want to change?” You ask, “or check into the hotel?” You frown, knowing he’d requested the best suite at Caesars. 

“No. I want to get this party started. We can change later.” Dieter declares. 

“Later? It’s nine.” You check your watch. 

“It’s early for Vegas.” Dieter shrugs and you sigh, knowing you have no choice.

Fueled by cocaine and champagne, Dieter is the first out of the limo when it comes to a stop. He likes the look of the place, the sound of the music is loud but he doesn’t care. Soon enough he will be watching women dance. “Hey, are there men here too?” He asks, suddenly curious. That would be cool. A strip club that caters to men and women, or people who like men and women.

You exhale deeply, trying to remain calm as you follow the group into the strip club. It's loud and full of bodies - both men and women. Some partly dressed, some naked as the day they were born. A half naked man walks past and you fluster when he winks at you. You have never been somewhere like this and you're no virgin but your life has been pretty vanilla.

It’s nothing but VIP for the group. Even if Dieter wasn’t recognized, a few folded up bills passed to the server assures that you are quickly seated at the best tables. “Uh huh, I want a dance from her and him.” Dieter lowers his glasses and leers over the rim with a grin on his face as a pair of dancers walk past. He turns to watch the rear view and catches sight of you. “I’ll even buy you a dance.” He tells you, blowing you a kiss. “Get you to loosen up. Tuck a few bills in a G-string.”

You roll your eyes and have a sip of the glass of champagne. You won’t get drunk but a glass or two will help you deal with this asshole all night. Some people ask why you work for him if you can’t stand him but honestly, he’s a PR nightmare and you always said you wanted the hardest cases for a challenge. He’s definitely been the hardest. “Gee thanks.” You respond sarcastically. 

The woman Dieter brought along is a little offended that he wants a dance and she slaps his chest ‘playfully’ and says “what about a private dance from me baby?”

Dieter rolls his eyes and tugs her close. “Of course I want a private dance from you.” He coos, leaning in and presses his lips to her neck and makes her giggle when he playfully bites her. “Later. We’ll have our own little strip tease.” Later on he has no clue what he will be doing, but she’s fun and he will hopefully get lucky. He’s getting laid for his birthday. Or at least a blowjob. “Don’t you want to shove some bills into his g-string?”

You huff, deciding you might as well do something fun for once. You make a grabby gesture and he grins, handing you the bills. You call a man over and he saunters, moving his hips and he holds out his hand. “Oh, I don’t want a dance. Here, take this. Put it towards your education or your rent or food or whatever. Just - take it.” You shove the notes into the man’s hand who is shocked.

Pouting, Dieter rolls his eyes. “God, you are no fun.” He leans back and crosses his arms over his chest and shoots you a glare. “He was hot, he might have enjoyed the stick in your ass.” He’s pissed that he didn’t get to see the man dance, or see if you would fluster and loosen up. He doesn’t care about the money. It’s about having a good time.

You scoff, “you act like he wouldn’t have been nice to me because he’s getting money. All of these people are here because of your money, Bravo. They aren’t your friends, they want your wallet. Especially her.” You point to Cindy, Kathy, whatever her fucking name is. “I’m going to the bathroom.” You huff, standing up and grabbing your purse. You need to calm down and compose yourself if you’re gonna survive an entire weekend of this.

For a split second, Dieter’s face falls, hurt shining in his eyes before he shakes himself slightly and blinks it away. You’re just pissed that you’re here instead of locked away in your depressing house with whatever boring ass book you were going to read. The waitress comes over and he orders a magnum of champagne and glasses for everyone, including you. You’re at his birthday weekend, you are damn well going to celebrate,

When you come back from the bathroom, there’s champagne flowing and you see the glass waiting there for you. You shouldn’t drink it but you have to. You won’t endure tonight without a drink or two…or maybe three. You sit down and pick up the glass, downing it. You choke on the bubbles and Dieter cheers, clapping his hands. “Now we are fucking talking.” 

Little do either of you know that one of his entourage snuck something into your drinks. You sway slightly, a giggle escaping your lips. “Wow. That champagne was so fucking good.” You feel tingly, like you’ve had ten drinks instead of two.

“So you are human.” Dieter gets up and moves around Cindy or Kathy and wedges himself in beside you. His grin is wide and happy and he clinks his glass against yours and takes a large sip of his bubbly. “It’s nice to see it. I didn’t think that I would ever witness you ‘let down your hair’.”

“Don’t get too excited, Bravo. The night is young and I am - I am supposed to be watching over you.” You can’t help the giggle that escapes your lips. You lean against Dieter, all hatred for him seems to have disappeared and you have another glass of champagne. “Happy birthday Bravo.” You cheer, suddenly excited for the night. 

****

You groan at the bright light that shines into the room, your head is throbbing and you can barely open your eyes. Fuck, what happened last night. You don’t remember a thing. You wince, realizing you must’ve drank way too much, and you shift, turning over away from the light and you hit something. Without opening your eyes, you reach out, gasping at the feel of hot skin and you freak out, opening your eyes. “Oh fuck. Oh fuck.” You panic, seeing the familiar tattoos on your boss’s back.

Dieter groans, hearing someone’s panicked voice and shifts, turning over and covering his eyes with his hand. “Throw up on the floor.” He grunts, not wanting to lay in puke if whoever he took to bed is about to get sick. He doesn’t open his eyes and groans again, wanting to go back to sleep.

You slap him, “wake the fuck up!” You slap him again. Shrieking when you realize you’re naked. “You need to wake up now, Dieter. I- we are in bed and - and naked.” You look at him and frown when you see the gold band on his hand. “What the fuck is that?” You reach for his hand, pulling it away from his face and that’s when you see the diamond in your left hand. “What the fuck? Wake up!” You slap him with his own hand.

“Ow! Ow! What the fuck?” Dieter bolts upright and throws his hands up defensively. His eyes are wide and he looks at you like you are crazy. “What the fuck are you doing? I’m sleeping!” He isn’t questioning why you are naked and in his bed. He doesn’t even really care, but dammit, he was enjoying the sleep. And you rudely interrupted it.

“Sleep? How can you sleep when a) we are in bed naked together, and b) WE ARE APPARENTLY FUCKING MARRIED!” You shout, grabbing his hand to show him the new gold band and holding up your own hand. “Oh God. This is - it’s gotta be a joke, right? We aren’t married. We just bought rings.” You try to reason, knowing no matter how drunk you could be, you wouldn’t marry him.

His eyes widen and he looks at your hand and then back at your face for a moment before he busts out laughing. “Oh good job!” He crows. “You had me for a second. And showing me your tits to sell it? Genius.” He chuckles and looks around, spotting a glass of champagne on the nightstand and twists around to grab it, swallowing down the flat champagne. It’s disgusting, but his mouth is dry and he needs something. He pulls the glass down from his lips. “You should stop the bullshit babysitting and act, sweetheart.”

You narrow your eyes at him. "What the fuck are you talking about?" You growl, pissed that he thinks this is some kind of joke. "Do you think this is funny? Bravo, this is - oh God. I think I'm gonna be sick." You scramble to get off of the bed, racing to the bathroom and you kneel down just as you throw up. You gag and cough until you're done before you slump down on the floor, pressing your forehead against the cool porcelain. You inhale deeply and look down, eyes widening at the crusted liquid on your inner thighs. "Oh shit." You hiss, reaching between your legs. You stand up, rinsing your mouth, and stumble back into the bedroom. "We had sex. We had sex." You're in shock.

“What?” Dieter frowns, shaking his head. “You wouldn’t have sex with me. Believe me, I’ve asked.” He had asked you the first day he met you and you had scoffed and acted revolted so he had never asked again. Although you’re standing in front of him naked, and that is something he thought he would never see. “You just probably spilled something on yourself.” He rolls his eyes and flops back onto the bed.

You shake your head, tears in your eyes that he doesn't believe you. "I know what dried cum looks like, you asshole." You spit and search around the room for your phone, knowing you need to find out what happened. When you find your phone, you see the notifications. Opening the first one, your eyes widen. "Oh shit." You read the headline, "Oscar Winning Dieter Bravo Gets Married in Vegas." You scroll until you see the video. "Dieter." You take the phone over to him, hitting play.

A picture is worth a thousand words and apparently a video is worth a million. You and Dieter are obviously intoxicated and grinning happily at each other. In the video, he grabs your ass and hauls you closer while the two of you kiss, tongues tangled and the group that Dieter had brought is cheering and clapping. Pulling away, Dieter looks around. “Now, I’m going to fuck my wife!” He yells out, grabbing your hand and dragging you towards the limo - presumably to take you back to the hotel. “Shit.” Dieter groans, knowing his manager is going to kill him. You probably didn’t sign a prenup.

You cannot believe this. You don't know what happened. You vowed you wouldn't have more than a few drinks, how the hell did you end up blacked out and married to Dieter? "Shit." You echo, wondering what the hell you're gonna do. That video is all over the internet and you know that this press is going to be impossible to tamper. The phone rings and you groan at the name of Dieter's manager flashing on the screen. "Hey Alex. How are you?" You ask, trying to act nonchalant. 

"How am I? How am I? You fucking got married to Dieter. You were hired for PR and you orchestrate the biggest fuck up in the history of fuck ups."

“Hey.” Dieter huffs, hearing her screech over the phone. “I wouldn’t say it’s the biggest fuck up.” He throws the covers off his body, obviously not going to be able to go back to sleep and climbs out of the bed, stretching with a groan. Completely unconcerned with his nudity as he stumbles to the bathroom to take a piss.

You watch him walk into the bathroom, jaw dropping, and you realize now why there's an ache between your thighs. "Not a fuck up? You got married! To your PR manager. Jesus Christ Dieter. You need to fix this." Alex says your name and you bite your lip, unsure of how you can fix it. 

"I- I don't know - he can't just say it was a joke. There's..." You rack your brain. "There's one way but he's gonna hate it." You look towards the bathroom. 

"I don't care. Just fucking fix it. He has a new movie coming out and we don't need the studio on our ass because he has fucked up - because you have fucked up." She hangs up and you stare at the phone, wanting to cry at this entire fucked up situation.

The best thing about Dieter is his ability to go with the flow. Or at least he thinks he does. Often he’s just too strung out, but right now, he’s finding this hilarious. “Just call me Brittany.” He chuckles into the mirror before he groans and reaches for the bottle of antacids that he keeps in his bag, along with his illicit drugs. Getting older sucks. He pops four into his mouth and chews them, reaching down and scratching his balls while he tries to remember if he did anything else last night besides marrying you. That can’t have been the worst thing he did.

You know what the solution is but fuck, you hate it, you really fucking hate it. You grab the shirt he was wearing, throwing it on without care, and you walk towards the bathroom. "We can't get an annulment." You declare. Dieter frowns, turning to look at you, his hand still scratching his balls. 

"Why not?" He huffs. 

"We have to stay married. If we get an annulment now, it will be recorded and the press will get hold of it and it will be a bigger story than it already is. If we stay married, even on paper, for six months or so, we can get an annulment and no one will even care to look because it will be old news."

“We can just say it was an accident.” Dieter shrugs and smirks. “What happens in Vegas and all that.” You shake your head. 

“No Dieter, not what happens in Vegas. That’s the problem!” You shriek and he winces at how loud you get. 

“Jesus, there’s the stick again.” He grumbles and sighs, trying to ignore the fact that you are wearing his t-shirt. “I don’t want to be married to you,” he whines. “Your going to tell me I can’t have sex while we’re married.”

“I won’t be married to you in any way other than a piece of paper. We are going to have to suffer each other for the time being. Once we get the annulment, you will give me a reference so I can move on from this shit show. You - you can fuck whoever you want but you won’t be doing it in public. We need people to think we are really married. You need to act like we are actually married, not just a terrible mistake. You need this to work otherwise you will be a laughing stock. With the cocaine possession and DUI, you can’t afford another fuck up.” You warn him, knowing that the last thing you want is to be married to him but you need this job more, you need that reference more than anything.

Dieter huffs, knowing that you aren’t wrong, but it’s all bullshit. “What the fuck, you don’t do your job and I’m the one punished?” He gripes, hating the entire idea. Especially where you said you would be leaving him. He hates when people leave him. “How did Ms. ‘Holier than thou, stick in her ass’ manage to get married to a man she can’t stand in a Vegas wedding chapel?”

“I don’t - I don’t remember anything past going to the bathroom in the strip club. I - I didn’t do my job? How dare you! I tried to prevent something like this but you bought me the drink and it was poured and - oh fuck. Do you think- do you think our drinks were spiked? Oh fuck. That explains it. One of your goddamn gold digging groupies spiked my drink and now I’m - oh God. I knew I shouldn’t have come along. Oh fuck. Dieter - we got married and had sex and I don’t even remember.” You freak out again, hands shaking as the weight of this settles on you.

Dieter frowns, while he loves using drugs and thinks that you could personally benefit from the occasional snort or toke, he doesn’t like the idea of being unknowingly drugged. Again, completely unconcerned with the fact that he’s naked, he walks over to you. “It’s okay.” He hesitates to reach for you, but then he does, pulling you against him and hugging you. Only slightly awkwardly considering you are just wearing his shirt and it is morning. “I’m sure there’s a video of it.”

You are so distraught that you actually wrap your arms around him and allow him to comfort you. Only for a moment until you realize that you’re married to him. “We need a game plan. What’s done is done and you don’t need anymore bad press so we gotta stay married.” You declare as you pull away from his embrace.

Dieter groans, hating that you keep saying that. Because he knows that means that his fun in Vegas will be over if you have your way. “Just lay low.” He shrugs his shoulders and turns around, wanting to look for the pills that he had yesterday. He spots a silk robe and snatches it up, throwing it on but not bothering to close it. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It’s not - we got married. It is a big deal. It’s a massive deal. I never - I wanted to get married and not get divorced. I wanted to be in love with the man I married. Not - not just - this mess. Oh God. My parents are going to kill me. Everyone expects you to be this reckless but not me. I’m the sensible one. Always have been. I’ve always had to be good.” You admit, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Dieter turns around and stares at you, amazed that you are so…worried about what your parents are going to say. “You’re legal, right?” He demands, squinting at you as if he could tell your age by staring at you. “Worried about your parents? Why? What are they doing for you? Are they supporting you?”

“Of fucking course I’m legal, you idiot.” You huff, “my parents love me and I love them and they are going to be mad when I tell them I accidentally got married in Vegas to a drug addicted actor.” They had told you that moving to L.A was a bad idea and now you’re inclined to agree. 

“Who cares what they think?” Dieter scoffs, finally finding the baggie. 

“Who cares? I do!” You choke, tears stinging in your eyes again. 

“Then just don’t tell them.” Dieter says, like it’s the easiest thing to do. 

You shake your head, “I can’t lie to my parents. I can’t do it.” You watch Dieter roll his eyes. 

“You can. It’s easy. Just tell them you got married for real and they’ll be disappointed when their favorite son-in-law asks for a divorce in six months time but hey, what can you do? It’s fucking life.” You watch him, knowing your parents are gonna wonder what you say in him compared to your clean cut exes.

Dieter pops three of the pills in his mouth and offers you a couple. “Want some?” He asks and you scoff, shaking your head and looking at him in disgust. 

“Shit like that got us into this situation!” 

He rolls his eyes and closes the bag, shoving it in the pocket of the ridiculous pink silk robe. It only comes down to his thigh and doesn’t cover anything since he hasn’t closed it. “Just release a statement saying that after spending a night with you in Vegas, I realized that I couldn’t deny my feelings anymore.” He tells you. “Or say that we’ve been secretly dating for months and just decided to go for it.”

You are surprised he’s suddenly agreed to go along with it. Your eyes dip down to his impressive - even flaccid - cock and realize why he’s so obnoxious. “I think the secretly dating one is the way to go but you have been out with most of the men and women in L.A in the past six months. We gotta explain that.” Your mind whirls with the best way to cover this up. Your PR mind taking over to try and distract you from the panic that you also had sex with your boss. One thing at a time.

He shrugs, obviously unconcerned about the details. “We’re poly.” He chuckles, knowing that with as stiff as you are, there is no way that you would ever be in situation like that. “Or that it was just a front. Throw people off.” He grunts and scratches his belly. “I’m hungry, are you hungry? You should order us breakfast.” He switches topics suddenly and looks at you expectantly. “Doesn’t the wife take care of her hubby?” He teases with a smirk.

You huff, walking over to the phone and you grab the room service menu. “Aren’t husbands supposed to stop their stupid fake friends from roofieing their staff?” You retort, glad that you only have one more day of this before you return to L.A and you can get away from him. His assistant can run around doing this shit. You order a healthy breakfast, making him pout, and you smirk, “I’m looking after you baby.”

“Look after me by ordering bacon.” Dieter grumbles and sighs when you just lift a brow. “I’m going to shower.” Despite the rumors, he did shower. He just dresses like he doesn’t give a fuck. Because he doesn’t. Shooting you a grin, he waggles his brows. “Wanna join?”

You wrinkle your nose, “absolutely not. You haven’t even asked if I’m on birth control. We had sex last night. I take the pill, by the way.” You inform him and he wrinkles his nose. 

“Too many chemicals. You should just check your basal temperature.” 

You shake your head, “how have you not knocked someone up yet?”

Dieter shrugs, not bothering to tell you that he normally does use a condom. Doubting you would believe him. “Guess I’m just lucky like that.” He eyes you again, seeing the streaks of his dried cum on the inside of your thighs. “You wanna take a bath while I shower then? I know you want to clean away the evidence.” His tone is oddly hurt and he purses his lips at you.

You nod, deciding that a bath sounds nice, especially since your body aches. God knows what he did to you last night. You follow him to the bathroom, bending over to turn on the bath and there’s a flash in your mind of Dieter bending you over the bath, his cock buried deep inside of you. You gasp, making Dieter look over at you. 

“You okay?” He frowns and you nod. 

“I’m fine.” You choke, grabbing the bubble bath.

Rolling his eyes, Dieter leans into the marbled shower to turn on the water. It wouldn’t be so horrible being married to you for a few months if you weren’t such a stick in the mud. You’re hot, he had been grateful that he was battling a headache when you were standing in front of him naked. Or maybe he had too much sex last night. Maybe that was the reason he wasn’t popping a boner at the sight of your tits and bare cunt, because he likes the look of you. “I guess we go home this afternoon?” He asks with a pout. It’s his fucking birthday today and he’s gotten yelled at, scolded and there is zero chance of getting a birthday blowjob from you.

You ponder it for a moment, realizing that you can’t just go home. It would look bad. You need to be seen out and about. “We can’t go home today. It’s best if we go out. We are gonna get swarmed but the public needs to see you and your wife out and happy.I’m sure even you can manage to act like you actually love me. Happy birthday by the way.” You offer him a smile despite being so mad that the thing you tried to prevent had happened.

Your smile throws him for a loop and he just stares at you for a moment. It might be the second time that you’ve smiled at him, a nice smile, since you’ve become his PR person. “Thanks.” He swallows back the urge to make a comment, something dirty that you wouldn’t appreciate and just nods. “Okay. Be seen. We can do that.” He shrugs. “What would be good?”

You test the water before stripping off his shirt to sink into the hot water, a moan escaping your lips at how good it feels on your aching muscles. “I’m thinking we go to dinner. No entourage. Then we go dancing. We gotta appear close and I doubt you’d be spending your birthday apart from your wife. This is just until the news has died down so we can divorce.”

He rolls his eyes at how boring that sounds. No doubt dinner will be talking about how much of a fuck up you think he is and the dancing will be some sedate oldies music where no one there is under one hundred. He shrugs off the robe and steps under the shower spray with a groan. “Sounds great, grandma.” He quips. “Senior specials? Gotta get there before five.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes. “No. I’ll book dinner for nine and then we can go to a club. Not a strip club.” You huff, swaying your hands through the water. His sarcasm has pissed you off since it’s technically his fault that you are in this situation. “I gotta go out and get something nice for a club since everything I brought with me is for a nice dinner and not the club. I guess I gotta dress the part of Mrs. Bravo.” The words make you feel sick but what can you do? You need to keep your job and the way to do that is to create the narrative that you’re in love with the man. As disgusting as he can be, you hope you find something good in him. He’s selfish, indulgent, and completely self obsessed. Traits you would never want to marry, yet here you are.

“Got it, you don’t like strip clubs.” He feels guilty, something that he hates feeling. He doesn’t know why, he didn’t spike your drink, but you are stuck with him because of it. “Take my card when you go shopping.” He tells you, shampoo in his hair. “This is my fault, so you should at least be able to buy what you want until it’s done.”

You want to argue and say you can afford your own things but honestly, you deserve something nice since this wasn't your fault. It was his fake fucking friends. You wash up and wash your face, standing up from the bath just as he steps out of the shower, reaching for the towel. He really is sexy in that Oscar the Grouch kind of way.

Water droplets glisten on his chest as he wraps his towel around his waist, covering himself for the first time since he got out of bed. “You’ll need to stay in this suite too.” Dieter reminds you. “The paps watch the hotel rooms.”

You huff, knowing he’s right, and you wrap the towel around yourself. It’s hard to resist licking up that drop of water going down to his - your mind flashes with an image of you doing just that and you stumble. “Shit.” You hiss and he reaches out to steady you, causing you to pull your arm away. “Do you- do you remember anything from last night?” You ask, curious if he’s having these flashes too.

“I-“ Dieter bites his lip and almost lies to you. “I remember most of last night.” He admits quietly. He’s done so many drugs that some things just kind of stick with him. Especially sex. He knows you will probably be mad at him, since you were drugged too, but he didn’t know that you weren’t just drunk.

Your eyes widen but you’re not surprised. He’s done more drugs than most of the population of California combined. He must have some kind of immunity. “Tell me.” You demand. “Tell me everything.”

“I don’t know.” He swallows harshly and gives a small shrug. “We came back to the hotel, but we started in the limo.” He flashes you a grin. “You demanded I eat you out. Told me that you hadn’t cum on someone’s face in a long time.”

You fluster, unable to believe you said that. “And did you?” You ask breathlessly. 

“Of course I fucking did.” He scoffs, “I practically laid on the floor of the limo so I could eat you out. You were bucking against my face like a goddamn bronco.” 

Your cheeks burn and you need to know more despite it being mortifying. “Then what?”

He smirks, amused with how flustered you look. “Then we came back here and had sex. In the bathtub, in the bed, in front of the windows.” He chuckles. “You liked that.”

There’s a flash in your mind of him pushing you up against the window, your cheek smashed against it as he rammed into you. “Oh God.” You choke, unable to believe that he fucked you like that. “No wonder I ache. God, thank God I’m on birth control.” You grip the towel tighter around your body, even though it’s ridiculous now he’s seen every inch of your body.

He hums, not mentioning how you had moaned about how good he felt. He’ll save that for himself. “You wanted it again, wanted to ride but you were so tired I stopped you.” You had pouted at him until he promised you could ride him in the morning. Although it seems like that won’t happen. “You can wear some of my clothes until you get your bags to the room.”

You want the floor to open and swallow you when he says that you wanted to ride him. It’s true you haven’t had sex for - who the fuck knows how long it has been. You can’t even remember. You had seen Dieter naked and now you can see why you wanted to ride his cock. Now you’re sober, you couldn’t do it because it’s Dieter Bravo. “Okay. I will wear some of your clothes then go get my things then I’m gonna go shopping and you are gonna stay here and call your manager to apologize.” You tell him, striding out of the bathroom and you walk into the closet to his suitcase, wrinkling your nose at the lack of options that don’t involve holes or stains. “You need new clothes too.” You tell him, holding up his tatty sweats.

Shrugging, he doesn’t understand why you are upset about his clothes. “So buy me some.” He offers. “Hate shopping. Never do it. All that was stuff I acquired.” Half the time it’s stuff that comes from lovers or once expensive clothes that he wears to death when he’s given them after modeling. “But don’t throw them away.” He huffs, a snatching shirt you had picked up away from you. “They’re comfortable.”

“Comfortable can look good too. These are - what the hell do you do in these clothes?” You pick up a tatty shirt and pull it over your head. “What’s your size? I’ll buy you some clothes. We can’t - I won’t be married to a homeless millionaire.” You scoff, “I promise you’ll be comfortable but you need to look good. Your entire image is your income.”

Dieter snorts and rolls his eyes. “I’m still getting worked, aren’t I?” He asks before he drops his towel and starts rooting around for a pair of boxers. “I need to look good on camera. And the makeup and hair people accomplish that.” He honestly doesn’t care about how he looks off set, comfort is his goal. He works long hours when he’s shooting a movie and it’s always uncomfortable. “I honestly don’t- oh! The last movie.” He rattles off sizes. “That’s what the tailor told me when I was fitted.”

“Okay. I’ll get you some new clothes. I just - I know you think I hate you but I want you to be successful. I want you to look good and be loved by your fans. I want you to have everything you’ve ever wanted and that’s my job. To make you look good. For people to love you. I’ll get you some new clothes and some new shoes. Those Tom’s…they aren’t it.”

“Hey….” Dieter pouts and looks down at the Tom’s he had pushed his feet into after sliding on his boxers. “I left my crocs at home.” He argues. “I could have worn them.” He would have too, he doesn’t care. Although he’s surprised by your speech about wanting things for him. Besides last night, you always seem to look at him like gum on the bottom of your shoe.

“God no. I will get my stuff and then we are going shopping. You’re coming with me so we can get you some new stuff.” You tell him, not taking no for an answer. “Let’s get my stuff and then we can go get started.” You shove your feet into your shoes, grateful you didn’t wear heels last night.

“I hate shopping.” He whines, huffing dramatically. “I hate it. It’s boring and people are always assholes.” He hates having to make small talk and all the fucking sales associates thought if they talked to him that he would buy more shit.

You roll your eyes, “tough shit. Your wife wants to go shopping.” You quip and make your way out of the closet to grab your purse, intent on going to your room to change. “Breakfast should be arriving soon. I’ll get my stuff, we can eat, and then we will go out.”

“Bossy.” The fact that his cock twitches doesn’t surprise him, he likes following orders sometimes. “Fine, we’ll go shopping.” He calls out as you walk out of the closet. “But I’m going to complain the whole time!”

****

You hold up the shirt against him, liking the purple against his skin tone. “I like this. What do you think?” You ask, knowing that people are watching you and taking photos but there’s nothing you can do.

“It’s fine.” Dieter huffs, hating the actual shopping more than the color or style of the shirt. He always feels like a rat in a glass cage when he goes shopping. “If you like it, get it. I’ll wear whatever.”

You huff back, hating his lack of enthusiasm and you know it’s because he hates being with you. “We will get it and then we can go, okay hon?” You promise, knowing he’s uncomfortable. “I won’t make you endure this anymore.” You take the shirt over to the cashier and you feel guilty when you see the total. “I’m sorry. Oh God. I didn’t know - I can put stuff back.” You tell him, picking up the clothes.

Dieter scoffs and takes the clothes out of your hand and sets them back down on the counter. “You want it, don’t you?” He asks, reaching into his pocket to pull out his little card case. The black card is quickly snatched up by the sales associate. “Besides, you told me you wanted to go shopping. Shopping means buying things.”

“Yeah but -” Your protest is cut short as the sales associate starts to fold the clothes. All of these are for Dieter. Yours are already on the way to the hotel. “I promise you I’ll pay you back.” You vow and he shakes his head. Dieter spends more than this a week on coke. 

“Anything to make you happy dear.” He sasses and you playfully slap him, a little too hard but you don’t want to look like you’re not flirtatious with the sales associate there. 

“Happy wife happy life.” You quip.

Dieter rolls his eyes and shoots the clerk a grin. “She’s already figured it out.” He tells them. “I just go along to get along.” He can almost say it with a straight face, but he looks over at you and shoots you a playful wink. “As long as you model the clothes you bought, or let me throw them on the floor, we’re good, baby.” He takes the opportunity to slide his hand down your back and squeeze your ass.

You want to be disgusted but you’ve had more flashes in your mind about how he fucked you and it’s beyond anything you could imagine. So sexy and intense. You find yourself being attracted to him and it’s so dangerous. You’re supposed to hate him, hate how he’s a PR nightmare, one that you’ve now gotten involved in, but you just want him to squeeze your ass again.

His grin gets wider when you don’t gasp and he leans in to kiss your cheek, making sure he drops another kiss right at the corner of your mouth. You’re a little looser than you were last night when the plane landed and he likes that. After your champagne at the strip club, he had ditched Cindy or whatever her fucking name was and it had been all about you. Not that what’s her name minded, she had latched onto some IG model that was there.

You can't stop the shiver that runs through your body and you hope he thinks it's from disgust. "Thank you." You tell the sales associate who promises to take your purchases back to your hotel room. You hold Dieter's hand as you walk back to your hotel. "Gotta let people take photos." You murmur, realizing how many people recognize him and you feel terrible that this is his life every day.

“I know.” He keeps his voice down, but he squeezes your hand. “That's why I hate shopping. The stores turn into a giant fucking fish bowl.” He’s feeling a little jittery, wishing you had let him take something before you left the hotel. But you had said you wanted people to see him happy and sober. Dieter didn’t mention that no one had seen him like that.

You notice how anxious he is and you feel awful for forcing him out like this. You can’t imagine being recognized like this. To be constantly under the public eye. You can understand why he finds solace in the drugs. “It’s okay. Don’t pay attention to them. You’re okay sweetheart. We are going back to the room.” You promise, feeling his hand shake in yours.

He grips your hand a little tighter and looks over at you, almost pathetically grateful that you are here. “Now you know why I’m normally baked.” He quips with a crooked grin.

You feel sorry for him, finally recognizing why he doesn’t dress nicer or go out or be sober. You can’t imagine the stress he must have even going out to the grocery store. You are swift to get him back into the hotel but you enter the elevator and what appears to be several young women all gasp when you enter. “Oh my God it’s Dieter Bravo.” One of them announces and you find yourself defensive when they start to take selfies without even asking. 

“Hey. Can you not just take his photo? You could at least ask.” You huff and one of the women points at you. 

“You’re his beard.” She declares. 

“His what?” You narrow your eyes. 

“He’s actually with a man but you are his cover up so female fans think he’s still an option. It’s okay honey, we all know you’re not his type anyway. He likes them looking like supermodels. You’re…average.” She drags her eyes down your body and you feel every insecurity you’ve tried to overcome rush back over you.

“Hey.” Dieter scowls and shakes his head, pushing the outstretched hands with phones away and reaches for you to tug you close to his side. “How about you not talk about my wife like that?” He demands. “Have I been with men? Yep, not a secret.” 

Dieter has never cared how he was perceived, he was too self absorbed for that, but he’d be damned if someone was going to insult his fake marriage. “And your logic makes zero fucking sense. I like men, but then I like women who look like supermodels, so she isn’t good enough?” He rolls his eyes and smirks. “Be jealous all you want but don’t be a bitch to her. And you can swing by the hotel room to hear how unattractive I find her later.”

You can’t deny that you are turned on by his display. His defense of you is sexy and you can’t stop the smirk appearing on your lips as the woman is shocked, blinking several times until her friends usher her off of the elevator when it arrives on their floor. “Thank you.” You tell him, “you didn’t have to do that.”

“Husbands protect their wives, right?“ he likes the way that your hand is on his chest, the admiration in your eyes appealing. It’s real, unlike a lot of the shit he gets. “Besides, they are fucking insane. You aren’t average, your fucking gorgeous.”

You fluster, caressing his chest before stepping away. You can’t get involved with him, this is a PR disaster to begin with, let alone getting actual emotions involved. He’s more than what you thought he was. “Thank you. You- you aren’t too bad yourself.” You tell him just as the elevator doors open and you walk to his suite.

He snorts, appreciating the sass and his eyes are glued to your ass as you walk. The maid has come while the two of you are gone and the suite is nice and tidy. “So, I guess we need to talk about what’s going to happen when we go back to L.A.” he doesn’t want to, but he also doesn’t want you lecturing him when the two of you had such a good moment.

You sigh, knowing he’s not gonna like your response. “We need to live together. Just until we divorce. The paps might catch me leaving my home or not being in your home. It will raise questions and we need people to think we are together and stop questioning…like that woman did. We need to - to make this work and when we divorce, you can tell everyone that I’m the evil woman that broke your heart so you can get all the attention and hopefully your next role.”

Dieter shakes his head. “No,” he frowns at the idea of what that would do to your career. “We’ll come up with something better than that.” He insists. “I- there’s three other bedrooms in the house.” He offers, looking over at the door to the bedroom of the suite. “You can have whatever room you want.” He sighs. “I’m a selfish asshole, but I’d never make you stay in the same room or sleep with me.”

You appreciate how he isn’t forcing you into more than what you have agreed. “It will only be for a few months. We need to suffer each other until people get bored of you being married. Tonight, we need to put on a show to convince the public we are married. I’m sorry this happened. I know you didn’t want to get married.” You sigh, having heard him say that several times when his manager would try to set him up on dates.

“Yeah, I know you don’t want to be married to me.” He reminds you with a rueful grin. “I’m not complaining though. I get to say I know what you look like when you cum.” Winking at you playfully. “So I’ve got that goin for me.” He’s thought about it all day today and he knows that it’s not going to happen, but it’s a nice thought.

You roll your eyes playfully and slap his chest. “That’s not gonna happen again. It was…a lapse in judgment. We can’t do that again. It will complicate things even more. That was…it was the drugs.” You lie despite knowing you’d love for Dieter to fuck you again.

“Yeah….the drugs.” Dieter frowns at the reminder and turns around to start striding to the bedroom. “I’m gonna go find my coke.” He calls over his shoulder. “You can do whatever you want. If my manger calls, tell her to fuck off, I’m on my honeymoon.

You chuckle, starting to unpack and hang up the clothes you’d bought him so he can pick out an outfit for later. Everything is stylish yet comfortable. You admire the dresses you’d bought for yourself, excited to wear something beautiful that you could never afford. Dieter lays on the bed, napping between snorting the coke, and he watches some movie while you get ready for your dinner. You take your time to do your hair and makeup, coming back out in a robe. “Bathroom is free. I’m gonna get changed.” You tell Dieter.

His hair is sticking up in every direction, not caring to style it after his shower this morning but he sits up when you walk past. Your makeup is sexy and your hair perfect. You look like an actress getting ready to perform her starring role. Right…this is just an act you are putting on so you can divorce him in six months. Dieter grunts and shuffles off the bed to trudge into the bathroom. If you want this to be a role, he can give you that. He’ll be your perfect co-star.

When you are ready, you walk back into the bedroom to find Dieter walking out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, water droplets still rolling down his skin, but his hair is styled and he has shaved. Fuck, he looks good. “You, uh, you look good like that.” You manage to choke out, hoping he likes your riskier outfit. You know that being with Dieter means you have to have a certain image. The man wouldn’t be married to someone who wears jeans and sneakers all day every day. So you hope he likes the skimpy dress you had bought for tonight.

His mouth drops open slightly, eyes fixed on the skin you are showing and his cock twitches. He loves it and he hates it, because he’s not going to be able to touch you. “You look amazing.” He compliments you breathlessly. “We need to see those cunts in the elevator again.” He chuckles. “Let them see I’m sporting a constant boner.”

“Thank you.” You giggle nervously, eyes dipping down to the slight tent under his towel and there’s a flash behind your eyes of you sucking his cock. Fuck, you can’t let him touch you again. You have to keep this professional. “Did you take viagra again?” You tease, sliding your feet into your heels to distract yourself from pulling him close and kissing him.

Scoffing, Dieter shakes his head. “Hell no.” He doesn’t add that there would be no point since he’s not getting laid on his birthday. “Natural reaction to you, sweetheart.” He turns and walks towards the closet. “Another reason I wear baggy clothes.”

You pause, watching him walk away, and you wonder if he’s just joking with you or if he’s being serious. Has he always found you attractive or does he even find you attractive now? After he is dressed, you swear your pussy drips because damn, he looks so sexy when he’s dressed up and tidy. “You look- you look good.” You choke, hoping your face doesn’t betray you, and you fumble to grab your purse so you can make your dinner reservation on time.

Dieter smirks and holds his arm out for you to take with a wink. “Can’t embarrass my wife when I take her out, can I?” He coos, knowing you hate being reminded that you married him. He can be charm itself when he wants to be and surprisingly, he only took a single Xanax while he was getting ready. The wedding band on his hand is foreign, but it somehow mixes with his other rings. “Ready to put on a show?”

With a sigh, you nod, wrapping your fingers around his arm and let him guide you out of the hotel room to the elevator. He seems…sober. You’re not used to seeing Dieter sober like this and you find you like him more. He’s not as brash or obnoxious. He’s charming and, surprisingly sweet. “I just want this to be successful so you don’t end up another failed Hollywood marriage. You don’t wanna beat Kim K and Britney on an annulment, do you?” You tease as you step onto the elevator and you lower your hand from his arm.

“First place is first place.” He jokes, looking up at the LED monitor that shows the floors rapidly descending. “Besides, I’m sure that whoever you are dating wants to kick my ass and have their girlfriend back.” He shoves his hands in his pockets, feeling twitching and he doesn’t want to touch you more than he needs to. He likes it too much. “Just blame everything on me. They’ll believe I did something stupid.”

You snort, “you think I’m-? First of all, no. I’m single. Have been for…longer than I care to admit. Second, I would never do what I did with you if I was with someone. I was drugged and - God, thank fuck I wasn’t with someone because we - it wasn’t exactly once that night.” You’ve had more flashes, able to piece most of your night together. The things he did to you…they should honestly be illegal, it felt far too good. “Legally, I’m yours. Reality, I’m no one’s.” You answer him, feeling a little insecure that you haven’t dated anyone for a while since you’ve been so busy with work.

“Yeah, I get it.” The doors open and Dieter takes a breath before plastering a happy look on his face. “The only reason you would ever look at me is because you were drugged.” He sighs under his breath, his low tone at odds with his expression. “Can you please stop reminding me how much you hate me. It’s my birthday.”

You take his hand, “I promise you I will make sure you have a good birthday. Come on, let’s go get dinner. I’m starving. Then we can go dancing.” You can’t wait to let loose a little and remember it instead of the crazy night you had before.

The photographers are everywhere, lights flashing and Dieter just smiles and acts proud that he is with you. Lifting up your joined hands and kissing the back of yours. “Dieter! What made you marry your PR agent?” 

Dieter laughs and gives you a smoldering smirk. “Well I’ve been in love with her for forever and finally managed to convince her that I was serious. She thought I was acting!”

He is acting but damn, the loving look in his eyes almost convinced you that he loves you. “And we decided to just go for it since I’ve been in love with him too.” You coo, kissing Dieter’s cheek and the cameras flash once more. You gasp when Dieter turns his head to press his lips to yours and you let him kiss you for a moment. “Sorry fellas. We are gonna be late for dinner. Thank you.” You declare, squeezing Dieter’s hand and he guides you through the crowd of paps.

Getting into the car is relatively easy and he allows you to slide into the car before him. The driver pulls away and he looks over at you with a smirk. “Looks like they believed you.” His lips burn where he had kissed you and he turns to look out the window so he doesn’t try to do it again. “They might fall in love with you.”

You snort, looking out of the window. “If you don’t like me, I doubt they will love me. I’m just a five minute wonder. When the Kardashians or the Hadid sisters do something, I’ll be old news and that’s when we can divorce under the radar. We just gotta make them think we are in love for the time being. I know that will be hard but you’re an Oscar winning actor so you should be able to manage it.” You wonder if you’ll be able to manage it. He’s more than what you thought he was, already changing your opinion after twenty four hours in his company. Maybe it’s a residue high from the drug. You don’t know.

Dieter sighs and doesn’t comment. It won’t do any good. You wouldn’t believe him if he told you that while he hadn’t been in love with you, he had found you very attractive and he liked the sass and the fact that you didn’t put up with his shit. He was contrary by nature and you were just so good. And last night….fuck, you showed him how wild you could be.

When you arrive at the restaurant, there’s another throng of paps and fans with their cameras but the restaurant staff usher you inside to a private booth and you exhale in relief when you lean back against the cool leather. “I don’t know how you handle that all the time.” You say to Dieter when he sits beside you.

“Drugs.” Dieter jokes, giving a small shrug as he reaches for the water glass. It’s not wine, but he will order a bottle quick enough and he’s oddly thirsty. “Some days it’s okay, especially when I meet someone who is passionate about movies, but it can be a lot when it’s the paps.”

“I can only imagine. It’s…intense. I’m sorry you have to deal with that. I sit at a desk and don’t really see that side of it. The reality of it. For so long, I’ve just done damage control on different situations you’ve gotten into like when you hit the pap and I never - I always thought you overreacted but now I know.”

He stares at you a moment, amazed that you had just said that. When he had hit the pap, you had raked his ass over the coals. “Thanks.” He ducks his head slightly to study the menu. “Hopefully they don’t bother you too badly.”

"I can handle them. They just need to be bored by me and they will move on. If we have an orgy in the middle of the strip, then we might be on their radar." You joke, browsing the menu. "Shit. This place is pricey. I didn't -" You are cut when Dieter rolls his eyes and tuts. 

"Hellooo?? My wife gets whatever she wants. Plus, I make way more money than I need. Probably why I buy so much coke." He murmurs to himself and you fluster at the way he easily calls you his wife even though no one is around to hear. 

The waiter comes over and Dieter orders the wine and you soon order your meal. "I don't - I haven't really been anywhere this nice before. My parents always preferred to cook homemade meals and special occasions were few and far between and my exes, none really took me anywhere super nice."

He snorts and rolls his eyes. “Wow, sounds like you dated some winners.” He doesn’t mind spending money, the people he hangs out with would verify that. But someone like you needs to be appreciated. “Well, while you are married to me, you can do whatever you want and eat everywhere you’ve wanted to try.” He lifts his brows. “A Hollywood wife must be seen after all.”

You chuckle, "I guess so." You watch the wine sommelier pour the wine for Dieter to taste and he nods, letting the man pour you a glass before filling Dieter's up. "To being fake married." You toast softly with a smirk on your lips as you clink your glass against his. "To being fake married." He responds and you take a sip of the wine, moaning in appreciation of the fruity full bodied red wine.

Your moan punches him in the gut, making it twist as he members the way you sounded last night. You still haven’t realized that he knew that the two of you got married. He wonders what you will say when you rationalize it out.

You eagerly dig into your appetizer. So hungry after so much stress. You see Dieter fidget and flex his fingers as he plays with his food. “Is everything okay?” You ask, reaching for his left hand. Another flash plays through your mind of when he slid the diamond ring onto your finger. You gasp and squeeze his hand. “Do you - if you remember last night us having - then you must remember us getting married?”

Shit…..Dieter stares down at his plate and swallows, suddenly not hungry. You are going to be pissed at him. “I do.” He admits, not looking up. He doesn’t want to see the anger on your face. Plus it hurts less when he gets slapped if he doesn’t see it coming.

You inhale sharply, now knowing that he married you and remembers it. He knew what he was doing. You feel betrayed. "Why?" You whisper, unable to muster anything else.

Dieter sighs and leans back in his chair, wishing that he had done some Coke before dinner. “It was your idea.” He reveals. “You climbed into my lap and told me that you had always wanted to slap me and then kiss me.” He huffs out a small chuckle. “So I told you to do it.” He picks up his wine glass and takes a long gulp. “It went from there, but you asked me to marry you.”

Your eyes widen. “I- I asked you- oh God.” You lean back in your seat, absorbing the news that you asked him to marry you. “Why - did I give a reason why? I need you to tell me everything.” You order, leaning closer to him.

 He gives a small shrug. “I thought you had just decided to take the stick out of your ass.” He defends himself. “Plus I wasn’t close to sober. But we made out in the club, damn near had sex in that booth. Then we went cruising down the strip and you saw the chapel and demanded we pull over.” He chuckles. “You claimed you loved those cliche movies about eloping and something about it could be a weird version of married at first sight?” He shrugs. “I didn’t know what you were talking about, but you were happy.”

You stare at him, tears stinging in your eyes and you swallow harshly. The tang of the wine on your lips when you lick them. “Wow. I- wow. It was me.” You can’t believe it was you that suggested getting married but you supposed it makes sense now. You sigh and reach for his hand. “I’m so sorry. It’s my fault we are in this fucked up mess and I - oh God. I’m so sorry sweetheart. I shouldn’t - my parents got divorced when I was a teenager so I guess I’ve always wanted to get married and do it right but now I’ve completely fucked that up.”

He reaches out and covers your hand with his other one. “It’s okay.” He knows how you feel now, in the light of day. He should have known you weren’t yourself, but he convinced himself that you had just given into bottled up feelings. It’s not true though, you are horrified at being married to him. So you’ll get it annulled or get a divorce or whatever. “We’ll have you single again in no time.” He chuckles and sends you a wink. “Smart girl, we got married without a prenup too.”

Your eyes widen, “oh God. I didn’t - I don’t want your money Dieter. You can keep it. I don’t - I don’t want you to think I did this because of - because of the money. I didn’t.” You promise, “I don’t - oh God. What a mess…and it’s all my fault. I’m so sorry.” You shake your head, knowing that your job is to protect his image and you’re the one who got you in this position.

He chuckles, enjoying the abject horror on your face. “Nah. I’ll just sign up for some really shitty movie, Cliff Beasts 75 or some shit, and tell the press at the junket that it’s so I could pay my alimony.” He teases, squeezing your hand so you don’t think he’s serious.

You roll your eyes at him, half playful, and you look down at your joined hands. For some reason, it feels far too right to hold his hand, even with the ghastly amount of rings he has on each hand. “So you wanted to marry me…even though I’ve done nothing but be rude to you?” You ask, frowning again.

“What can I say?” He gives a small shrug. “I’m a masochist.” His joke is meant to make you roll your eyes and scoff, perhaps say something sarcastic. Anything to keep you from delving into why he thought marrying you was a good idea. He was high, sure, but he never was so high that he married someone else before. His insecurities and loneliness came out last night and in typical Dieter fashion, he was selfish.

You stare at him, unsure of what to think, but you can see something in his eyes. You just can’t put your finger on it. “I- I’m sorry I’ve been such a bitch to you. I should’ve been more professional and I understand why you…self medicate. It must be so overwhelming.” You squeeze his hand just as the waiter comes over with your food.

He doesn’t respond with a pithy reply, instead he just leans back and lets the server set down the food. He speaks when the extra ears have left. “I get it, I’m annoying.” He gives a small shrug. “Byproduct of being lonely, I guess.”

You feel sorry for him which surprises you. You can’t imagine how lonely it must be to not know who your true friends are. To know that everyone wants something from you. “I- I really am sorry Dieter. I don’t think you’re as annoying now that I understand why. You’re just…eccentric.” You tell him and start to eat, wondering what you can do to make this man happy. How bizarre, to have gone from loathing him to…something else in less than twenty four hours.

“Don’t feel sorry for me.” He’s slightly prickly after exposing something so raw. “My life is great. Drugs, sex, whatever I want.” He huffs like it’s ridiculous to imagine being unhappy. “I live in Sherman Oaks.”

You snort, “money doesn’t buy happiness. It’s clear that you are lonely and you buy your friends and your lovers. It’s…I want more for you Dieter. You deserve to be truly happy. I know we have fucked up with this marriage but you deserve to be with someone who loves you.

Dieter sighs, knowing that will never happen. He either fucks up or they do. Or they never loved him at all. “Can we talk about something less depressing?” He whines before he changes the subject. “Like you showing me your tits at the strip club?”

Your eyes widen, “I did what?!?” Your mouth drops and you lower your knife and fork. 

“Yeah. You flashed your tits while we were in the club. Said you could get up on that stage and make me hard.” Dieter smirks at how mortified you are. 

“Oh my God. I didn’t.” You cringe, knowing you must’ve embarrassed yourself while high thanks to your constant need to suppress your wilder side.

“You did.” He chuckles and leans in. “But you were right, I did get hard.” He smirks and winks at you. “Got really hard. You liked it. Really liked it.” You had loved how hard he was and that he was a multiple rounds kind of guy.

You fluster, another flash in your mind of you taking his cock into your mouth in the limo, and your cheeks burn. “Oh shit. I did. God, I- I didn’t know - I’ve never behaved that way. I just - oh no. I’m so sorry.” You wince, not even wanting to know what he thought of you. “I, uh, I never behave that way. At least not outside of my kind.”

Dieter grins, eyes alight with dirty delight. “Yeah?” He gives a low chuckle. “You have a lot of dirty thoughts swimming around in that pretty little head if yours?” He nods. “Yeah, you do. You probably read all those smutty romances and watch porn thinking about what you would do if you just let yourself.”

You fluster, thinking of all of the books you’ve read and the porn you’ve watched. “A lot of dirty thoughts.” You murmur, looking into those beautiful dark eyes of his that are just one of the reasons he’s such a popular actor. You lick your lips and shift a little closer to him. “We shouldn’t - we should keep this professional.” Your eyes dip down to his lips and you remember how good it felt to kiss him. You want that again.

“Maybe.” Dieter gives a careless shrug, as if it’s of no consequence. “Although….we already have. And you are my wife.” He reminds you with a grin. “So technically speaking, fucking each other’s brains out would be keeping it professional.” He can tell you are curious. If it’s because you don’t remember a lot of last night or if you want to see what Dieter Bravo is like in bed, he doesn’t know. “You know what they say. What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.”

You want to kiss him, fuck, you really do, but crossing that line isn’t something you can let go. You pull back, swallowing down the lump in your throat. “I- I don’t think it would, considering everyone takes our photo.” You gesture to the people across the room who are trying to covertly take your photo. You go back to your food, knowing it’s for the best. “We can go dancing after this, show off those infamous moves.” You nudge him playfully, trying to lighten the mood.

He wants to pout, but he knows that he’s not going to push. He never pushes, it goes against his code. “Okay.” He lown meal and forks up a bite. You don’t want to sleep with him again. Fitting for the woman who hadn’t even wanted to come here. He can see you retreat back into your professional armor and he sighs softly. “We’ll dance for like an hour, then I think I’m just going to go to bed early.” He decides. “There’s got to be another baggie in the room somewhere.”

You sigh, wishing he wouldn’t escape in drugs. Maybe some therapy would help him process better. You push that thought aside and know that you’re not his actual wife so that would be overstepping. The rest of dinner is spent in silence and you groan when you finish dessert. “I don’t think I’ve had a meal that good…ever.” You dread to think what the bill is going to say.

Groaning in agreement, Dieter doesn’t even look at the bill when it comes, pulling his wallet out of his jacket pocket and handing the card to the waiter as he reaches for his wine glass to drain the last sip. “Have you decided what club?”

“Not a strip club.” You snort and he pouts, making you playfully slap his arm. “Not a strip club. There’s this club at Venetian that’s supposed to be nice. Let’s go there and we can dance then go back to the room because these shoes aren’t gonna hold up an entire night.” You stretch your legs, accidentally brushing against his. “Thank you for dinner.” You tell him when the waiter sets the bill down.

“You’re welcome.” For all his douchebaggery, Dieter tips. He had spent too many years waiting tables to survive while he was working towards breaking into the business. He signs a large tip and scrawls his signature before he takes his card and closes the leather booklet. “Ready?” He asks, standing up and moving over to your chair.

You take his hand, happy to keep your hands joined as he guides you out of the restaurant and through the hotel to your awaiting limo. Dieter tells the driver the name of the club and he leans back in the leather seat as the driver makes his way across the strip. “Can I ask you a question?” You ask and he chuckles, “you just did.” You roll your eyes and look at him and he nods. “Why do you do the drugs? What about it makes you - makes you happy?”

That hadn’t been the question he was expecting. He frowns slightly and thinks about how to answer. “It’s freeing. Fun.” He gives a small shrug. “I like the way I think, the way I feel when I’m high. It can be creative.” He snorts. “Or it can make me not give a fuck about what’s going on.”

You nod in understanding, “I can get that. Just - just being you without any kind of mental barrier. I just - last night I was free. I have never acted like that before.” You admit, “but don’t you ever get tired of it? Don’t you ever want something real?”

Dieter scoffs. “Real checked out when my first multi million dollar role was announced.” He tells you. “Real left when I slept with someone only to have them sell pictures to The Sun.” He gives a shrug that’s meant to hide the hurt and betrayal that he had felt when he realized that he was just some kind of commodity to a lot of people. “Maybe one day, when I’m old and the roles stop coming in, or they aren’t blockbusters or Oscar winners.”

You feel sad for him, you can see the pain in his eyes. He feels used and not truly loved, he has been wrung out for every penny people can get out of him. “I’m sorry you’ve been treated like that. You deserve to be treated like any other human. Just because you’re famous doesn’t mean you don’t get to be treated with respect. I- I can understand now why you act that way you do. It’s an escape and a facade. If you don’t let them see the real you, you won’t get hurt.”

“Knew you were a smart cookie.” It’s not exactly a compliment, because it means he’s let you see beyond his facade. He looks out of the car window and chuckles to himself. “Want to flash the strip?” He asks, making a crude joke to lighten the mood.

You chuckle, rolling your eyes at him. “No I don’t. I’m not even drunk.” You tell him, “or drugged. God, I really did flash my tits everywhere. Thank God no one got a photo of it.” You cringe at the thought.

“Oh there are photos.” Dieter smirks, holding up his phone. “But only I get to see pics of my wifey like that.” He had every intention of deleting them, but hadn’t remembered to do it yet. “You wanna see?”

Your eyes widen, “you took photos? Oh my God. You asshole.” You slap his arm making him give a dramatic “ow” then you demand he shows you. He grins and unlocks his phone, pulling up the photos he had taken. “Oh God. I- I look - I look hot.” You settle on that word. You look happy and carefree and hot. Words you never thought you’d put together.

“Yeah you do.” You do look hot, doing exactly what you wanted and not apologizing for it. The picture where you were pushing your tits together and winking at him is his favorite. Inviting him to come suck on him. He had waited until the limo to do that. “But no one else got photos. Apparently there’s not supposed to be photos taken in the club.”

You stare at the photos, not even recognizing yourself. You look so happy. You don’t remember the last time you were that happy. Work took over and then your relationships were lackluster and you haven’t had much time for yourself. “That’s good. You, uh, can you send those to me? I really like them.” You admit quietly, loving that side of yourself that you’ve never seen.

He lifts his brow in surprise, not expecting you to want to keep any evidence of you letting loose. “Sure.” He nods and opens his messages to start sending you the photos. If you want them, you will have them. “I’ll delete them off my phone after I send them to you, but I don’t believe in that sharing photos shit. That’s disgusting.”

You have a new appreciation for him, knowing that he is many things but he isn’t a liar. “Thank you.” You kiss his cheek, wanting to thank him for being a good man. Your phone buzzes and you ignore it since the limo pulls up outside of the Venetian. “More paps but after that, it’s time to celebrate your birthday. First round is on me.” You promise, grabbing your purse as the driver opens the door.

Dieter follows you out of the limo, wrapping his arm around your waist and starting to weave through the paps. If he didn’t know better, he would think someone tipped them off. Smiling and grinning like he’s happy they are all witnessing his arrival, he tugs you closer. “Talk later! Gotta dance!”

You sigh, knowing you will need to investigate who tipped the paps off. You imagine it’s his assistant who arranged the reservations. “I’m sorry. I don’t - I’ll gotta find out who tipped them off.” You tell him as you take his hand, walking through the casino and you sigh in relief when you see the entrance to the club after several fans took photos of you and Dieter. “It’s exhausting. Having to be ‘on’ all the time.” You can’t imagine how he handles it. You enter the club, skipping the line, and are escorted to the VIP section.

Ordering a drink is quick, the server specifically assigned to your section for preferential treatment. “What do you want, sweetheart?” He asks, leaning in and speaking into your ear over the loud music. His arm is wrapped around your shoulders and the entire world would believe that you two are are enamored with each other.

You force yourself to not turn your head, your lips would be so close, and you know that kissing him, or touching him, would complicate things even more. He looks so good though, the lights flashing over his face, and you want to just protect him from the fucked up world he is in and keep him safe and...loved. Shit, you gotta push that thought out of your mind. You mumble that you want a vodka soda and Dieter orders a whole bottle. "Gonna be a good night." He promises, his lips against your ear and it makes you shiver.

The music plays as the two of you wait for your drinks. He’s aware that there are eyes on the two of you, taking advantage of it by stroking your arm and leaning close, nuzzling your cheek with his nose. “You look delicious in that dress.” He breathes into your ear. “Can’t wait to dance with you.”

You try to smother your whimper as your entire body lights up from his simple touch. Biting your lip, you turn your head to look at him and you swear he looks angelic with the lights flashing over his handsome face. He’s no angel though, he’s the devil in disguise. “Let’s dance.” You tell him, not bothered about the drinks.

Dieter smirks as you practically drag him out onto the dance floor. He doesn’t normally dance as much as wildly gyrate, but he can grind on someone. It helps that even though he’s behind you, you are leading the dance, something that is wildly sexy to him as he lets you take control.

You grab his hands, placing them on your hips as you grind back against him. You may be stiff and starchy most days to be professional but you love to dance. You don’t care who’s watching, deciding to finally let loose and you grind your ass against Dieter. Dipping low and pushing up against him as you grab his hands to help you stand upright. You put on a show that he clearly likes if his hardening cock pressing against your ass is anything to go by.

He groans, grinding against you and gripping your hips harshly. “God.” He hisses in your ear, loving how uninhibited you are being. “You are so dirty under that prissy veneer, aren’t you?” He teases. “You would do anything right now, wouldn’t you?”

​​You gasp when he bites down on your earlobe. “God yes. I would. I just - I haven’t had anyone to bring this side out of me.” His words send a thrill through you and you grind back even harder, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck, arching your back.

Chuckling against your ear, he slides his hand down your hip, fingers teasing the edge of your dress and tracing the hem. “Let me.” He demands, waiting to see if you push his hand away. When you don’t, his cock throbs against your ass as he dips his fingers under the dress and starts caressing the skin of your thighs as he works his way higher to the beat of the music. 

You don’t push his hand away, leaning back against him, and you whimper when his fingers press against your clit through your panties. “Fuck Dieter.” You moan into his neck when you turn your head. You know you shouldn’t be doing this, this is going to complicate things and you haven’t got the excuse that you’re drugged. You’ve had a couple of glasses of wine. You are practically sober and his hand is under your dress.

“You said that so many times last night.” He coos in your ear, rubbing your clit over your panties. “Fuck Dieter, harder.” He moans. “Fuck Dieter, your in my guts.” He slips a finger under the fabric and pushes it inside you, his thumb still outside your panties and pressed against your clit.

You don’t have the capacity to be embarrassed at what you had said to him last night. The flashes you had gotten told you that you loved what he had done to you. His thick digit inside of you has you gasping his name and his chuckle makes you gush, getting more aroused while you continue grinding on him. “God, what else did I say?” You ask with a raspy moan.

“That my cock was the best you ever had and you wanted to ride it.” He pumps his finger in and out of your tight, hot cunt - loving how you’re gripping it. It’s dirty, doing it right here on the dance floor and he loves it. “Whined when I told you to go to sleep. I think you would have slept with me inside you.”

His words cause a whine to rise up your throat, making you grab onto his hair as he works his digit in and out of you. "Oh God. That - that means you must've done a good job making me cum. Was I - was I good for you? Did you enjoy it?" You ask, knowing he's had more sex than you've had hot dinners so it's a valid question and you hope he doesn't lie to appease you.

“Fuck yes it was good.” He groans in your ear and slides another finger under the panties to push in with the other on the next twist of his wrist. “Fucking hot and tight. Like a perfect glove.” He twitches against your ass.

His second finger stretches you just right and you start to lean more against him as he works you towards an orgasm. "Oh fuck baby. You're gonna make me - it's so good. Dieter. I-" You turn your head to bite down on his neck. The music is loud but you don't need to alert people around you that Dieter just made you cum. His fingers work you through it and you slump back against him, feeling almost dizzy from the pleasure. "So good." You murmur, eyes closed as you breathe him in.

Dieter whines as he pulls his soaked fingers out of your cunt, holding them up so the shiny cum can catch the light in front of your eyes before he slides them into his mouth with a grin. You’re leaning against him and not moving to the music any more. “Time for that drink, right?” He murmurs in your ear, kissing the shell again.

You nod dumbly, feeling his cock hard and twitching against your ass as he guides you back to the VIP section. When you are under the stroud of exclusive cover, you reach for his pants. "Want to make you feel good too." All care of your PR job goes flying out the window as you scramble to pull his hard cock out of his pants. The section you're in is private and the curtains hide you from near everyone in the club. When his cock is finally free, you groan at the sight of it. It's beautiful, thick and veiny and you immediately lean down to take him into your mouth, not caring about anything other than making him cum.

“Shit.” Dieter hisses at the surprise move, throwing his head back as his hand comes to rest on the back of yours. He hadn’t expected this. Maybe some teasing, but he knows you aren’t drunk or have taken anything. This is you, taking him into your mouth and moaning around him like he’s a fucking lollipop you’ve craved. “Fuck, baby. You are so dirty, I love it.” His other hand slides around your side to squeeze your tit through your dress. “My wifey’s a little exhibitionist, sucking my cock in the club.”

This is so wrong. You shouldn’t be doing this but fuck, you can’t stop yourself. His moans and the way he touches you spurs you on and you bob on his cock, using your hand to work the length that you can’t take down your throat.

Letting out a needy whine, Dieter’s eyes close and he shuffles his hips up slightly. Wanting you to try to take him deeper. “Oh fuck baby, that mouth, oh fuck it’s so good.” He rambles, practically shuddering under the hot pressure of your palette against the head. “So good, you- fuck baby.” He forces his eyes open again to watch you suck his cock, amazed that this is happening and everyone is sober. 

You’re sober but you’re also drunk on Dieter. Taking him deeper until you are choking around his thick cock. You breathe through your nose, working him deeper until you aren’t gagging. Hollowing your cheeks, you press your tongue against the underside of his cock. Your eyes water but you force yourself to open them to meet his gaze, wanting to look at him.

Dieter is such a fucking needy little shit that the moment that you lock eyes with him, his entire body gives in. Gasping out your name, his cock starts to throb, face twisting pleasure while he is pumping ropes of salty cum into your mouth. 

You struggle to keep up, swallowing each spurt of cum, but a drop escapes to drip down your chin and lands on his pants. Working him through his orgasm, you pull off of his cock and kiss the tip, loving the way he twitches, then you lean down to lap up the drop that is threatening to stain his pants.

“Jesus Christ.” When you are sitting up, Dieter lunges forward to press his lips to yours. Sliding his tongue into your mouth, not caring about the taste of his own cum in your mouth, just needing to kiss you. Dragging you closer while he groans and deepens the kiss for a long minute before he pulls away and sighs as he nudges his nose against yours. “Shit…I wasn’t expecting a birthday blowjob.” He giggles, practically euphoric.  

“Neither was I.” You admit with a giggle, kissing his jaw. “I just - I can’t seem to stop touching you now. I want to give you birthday sex.” You murmur, wanting to recreate the night before and relive the flashes you get here and there. “Plus it will be good if people believe we are actually married, like not just on paper. Maybe a noise complaint will help our case.” You tease, caressing his chest through the open buttons of his shirt.

He smirks and nods eagerly. “I can make a noise complaint happen.” He jokes, before he leans in and kisses you again. “You want to have sex with me?” He asks, lifting his brows as he looks at you softly. He hadn’t expected this, this change of heart towards him, but he’s not turning down getting you into bed again. 

You nod eagerly. Ready for him to make you cum again. “Yes. Want you to fuck me until I scream your name. Until we get a noise complaint and everyone knows that dieter Bravo fucks his wife hard.”

He knows you don’t mean that beyond the fact that you accidentally married him. Fully aware that in a few months time, you are going to divorce him. But right now, the fact that he has a wife and that wife wants him to make a claim on her has him standing up. Shoving his cock back into his pants and zipping up, he grabs your hand. “We’re leaving.” He growls. 

Your cunt clenches at his growl and you let him practically drag you out of the VIP section after he slams some cash down on the table to cover the drinks you never had. When you are out of the club, he ignores anyone that talks to him as he practically drags you to the car, pushing you inside. As soon as the door closes, you are straddling his lap and pressing your lips to his.

He’s greedy right now, pushing your dress up to your hips and nearly ripping your top as he pulls your tits. Dragging his lips away from yours so he can kiss down your chest. He’s not hard yet, that will take at least until you get back to the hotel, but he can suck on your tits and see what you like while his body recovers enough to fuck you. 

When he takes your nipple into his mouth, you arch your back and cry out, tangling your fingers in this hair. “Oh fuck baby. That feels good.” You gasp when he bites down on the sensitive flesh.

Dieter loves tits. Big ones, small ones, he just loves them. He might have a bit of a lactation kink, but he’s never been with someone that had milk, but he always imagines it as he’s sucking on them. He flicks his tongue over the hard flesh and suckles eagerly, making it even stiffer before he scrapes his teeth over it to make you shudder. Pushing your tits together and licking between them happily before he buries his face in the cavity and groans happily. 

You moan, loving how fucking eager he is, and he switches rapidly between nipples, sucking each one and making you shift to grind down onto him, your panties soaked. You know this is a bad idea but you can’t stop yourself. He’s sexy, in a garbage driver kind of way - and you find yourself needing him more than you need air. “Oh fuck. Yes. Just like that.” You hiss when he nibbles the flesh.

He grunts, keeping his mouth busy. His hands sliding down and gripping your ass as you roll your hips. Reaching around with one hand to push your panties to the side so your clit can grind down against the seam of his pants. He doesn’t care if you soak them and ruin them, he wants to see you cum again. 

“Fuck.” You cry, grinding down until your clit rubs against the zipper of his pants, catching just right to make you shudder. His mouth continues to nip and suck on your tits and you swear you’ve never been this wet. You must have soaked his pants by now and you haven’t even cum yet. “Fuck Diet. You’re gonna - I’m gonna cum.” You warn him just before you fall over the edge, crying out as you shake above him.

Groaning into your tits, Dieter feels you fall apart. Your body tense and trembling gives him a rush of endorphins and his flaccid cock is starting to respond, hardening slowly as you grind against him. He holds you close and continues to lave affection on your tits until you slump against him, panting breathlessly. “I want to die like this.” Dieter’s comment is muffled from between your tits. “Just like this.”

You chuckle breathlessly, caressing his neck and running your fingers through his hair as you try to catch your breath, still feeling the haze of your orgasm washing over you. “If you die right now, I’ll get all your money.” You tease, knowing he knows that you don’t care about that stuff.

“Worth it.” He huffs against your damp skin. “Just bury me with a mold of your tits in my face.” He jokes, pulling away from you to kiss up your chest and chin before placing a surprisingly gentle kiss on your lips.

You sigh against his mouth, a little shocked by the tender kiss, and you respond, gently kissing him back. Your hands slide down to caress his chest and you nibble on his bottom lip, in no rush to pull away. This is dangerous, being this intimate and comfortable, but you know things will change when you get back to L.A and have to face reality.

The driver pulls to a stop outside the hotel and Dieter groans slightly, pulling your panties back into place and tugging your skirt down as he kisses you one last time. “Time to get out of the car and pretend we weren’t making out back here.” He smirks and looks down at his wet crotch. “Although that’s gonna be hard.”

You fluster, biting your lip as you try to compose yourself. These damn hotels make you walk through the casino to get to your room. You take Dieter's hand once he exits the limo and the cameras flash, making you lean into his side. "They definitely know what we were doing." You whisper, giggling when people stare at his crotch. "Helps confirm we are really married."

“I don’t think that we will have them convinced just yet.” Dieter winks at you before he hauls you close and kisses you again. It’s wet and dirty, the kind of kiss that leads to sex and he’s very happy when he hears you moan into his mouth, clinging to him.

You whimper into his mouth, nails digging into his shirt-clad shoulders as he slides his tongue against yours. Cameras flash and you pull back, knowing that you need to get him to the hotel room now before you fuck him here and in front of fans with cameras and the paps. "Need to - to get to the room." You manage to pant, grabbing his hand to practically drag him to the elevator.

Chuckling, he eagerly follows you into the car, somehow managing to be in there with only one other couple. “We’re gonna have to behave.” He warns you playfully, smacking your ass before he turns to the other couple. “Sorry, it’s our honeymoon and she’s irresistible.” He shares a smirk with the older man, and then grins back at you.

You slap his chest, shaking your head despite the grin on your face. Shit. He’s not too bad when he’s not playing up being an obnoxious Oscar winning movie star. The other couple - older - just chuckle. “I remember when she used to be like that for me.” He winks at his wife. 

“What do you mean used to be? Still am.” The wife smirks and the husband’s eyebrows raise. 

“Have a good night.” The husband says when the elevator arrives on their floor. 

“You too.” You respond and the wife smirks over her shoulder, “oh we will.”

“Damn, he’s gonna get lucky too.” Dieter huffs in amusement. The question of if you would still be that hot for him when you're their age is on the tip of his tongue, but then he remembers that he’ll be alone again by his next birthday. He pushes that out of his mind, grabbing you and flattening you against the wall of the car, his tongue desperate to chase away the thought and have as much of you as he can while you are still here.

You moan as his tongue slides against yours again. It’s like you can’t get enough of him. Never mind having a drug in your system last night, you’re certain that half of that was Dieter. Your entire body is on fire and you struggle to find any reason as to why you hated him. The bell dings and you slide out from the wall and your husband. 

“Does the birthday boy want some birthday sex? You want me to ride you like I promised?” You coo, smirking as you start to walk down the hall to his suite. When he starts to follow you, nodding his head eagerly, you grin and grab the key from your purse. “Better catch me then.” You rush down the hall, knowing it’s gonna be hard for him to run with his cock hard and throbbing already.

“Fuck.” Dieter groans, watching you take off and he starts to shuffle after you. “Wait up!” He whines, actually enjoying himself even though he wishes he was still crushed against you. It’s been a long time since sex was just playful and he is loving how easy it seems to be with you. You aren’t the uptight woman you pretend to be. “Fuck baby, watch that ass.” He huffs.

You giggle, trying to open the door, when he grabs you. You struggle to unlock the door with his hands everywhere and your hand shakes as you press the key against it, finally managing to open the door. “You’re just too slow, old man.” You tease, kicking off your shoes as you step into the suite and spin out of his arms to set your purse down.

“Fuck you I’m too old.” He huffs, slapping your ass harshly and then grabbing the hem of your dress to start dragging it up. “I’ll show you old.” He drags you back against him, grinding his cock against your ass. “Want you to ride me, I’ve been thinking about it all fucking day.” He admits with a grin, biting down on your shoulder.

You grind back against him, head lolling as he kisses up your neck, and you gather your senses enough to tell him to take his pants off. "Get undressed. Now." You order, desperate to sink down onto his cock. "Then sit back against the headboard."

“Yes ma’am.” Dieters draws out, happy to follow that order. Disrobing is careless, tossing clothes on the floor without any care until he is standing completely naked, save for his black socks. “Keep my feet warm.” He teases with a wink before he crawls up on the bed and leans back against the headboard. Wanting to see what you will say about the ridiculous look of just being in socks.

You chuckle at the sight of him in his socks, his cock resting on his lower stomach, and you push your panties down, kneeling on the bed and shuffling forward until you are hovering over his cock. “Like an old man keeping his socks on.” You tease, reaching between you to grip his cock and position him at your entrance. You slowly sink down onto him,  mouth falling open at how he stretches you.

“Does that make you the young gold digger?” He demands, leaning forward to kiss you and drag you to his chest. Wanting to feel your bare breasts against his skin while you get used to him. He knows you are probably sore from yesterday since you had told him it had been awhile since you’ve had sex. “Gonna fuck your old husband to death?”

You chuckle, “yeah. Especially since we have no prenup. You want me to - to fuck you to death?” You joke, moaning when you manage to rock your hips slowly until he’s fully inside of you. “Oh God. How don’t I remember how this feels?” You say to yourself.

“Blacked out from bliss.” Dieter huffs, reaching up and pinching your nipple. “Hearts gonna give out when you squeeze me with that tight pussy of yours.” He groans when you do just that, cock twitching inside you. “Fuck me baby.” He whines, wanting to feel you move.

You grab onto his shoulder for leverage, lifting yourself up until only the head of his cock is notched inside of you. You meet those entrancing dark brown eyes of his and sink down. Starting a little slow but building up the pace until you are rocking your hips on his cock.

“Fuck.” He pants out the word, loving how you feel around him, riding him. He caresses your hip and looks down to watch you take him. “Look at that. That pussy must be so full.”

"It is. Oh fuck. It is. I - never been this full." You admit shifting to lean back. Your hands braced on his knees as you grind forward, allowing him an even better view to see your pussy. "Fuck. This is just - so good."

Dieter is entranced, loving how your lips are stretching around him. It makes him throb and he reaches down and rubs your clit. Loving your gasp and the way your body shudders. “You look good on my cock.” He groans.

“Feels so good.” Your thighs start to shake and you nearly collapse backwards as you try to continue grinding down on his cock. It becomes too much, his fingers on your clit and the head of his cock hitting just right on every grind down, makes you fall apart. Your cry of pleasure echoes off of the walls and you slump forward as your thighs shake violently with your orgasm.

He whimpers at how tight you squeeze him, hissing through his teeth and letting go of your clit so he can start rolling you over. Needing to cum himself. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He groans out. “So perfect.” He starts to jackhammer his hips, carelessly chasing his own high while you thrash underneath him.

You cling to him, wrapping your legs around him to push him deeper as he thrusts hard and deep into you. “Cum for me baby. Cum for me.” You plead, wanting to feel him fill you up. “Please Dieter. Cum for me.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” It’s all Dieter can manage as he careens towards another orgasm. Looking down at you as he starts to cum. Hissing out in pleasure as the vein in his temple throbs and his entire body locks up as he buries his cock deep and starts to fill you up.

“So good. So good.” You choke as his cock throbs inside of you, painting your walls with his cum and you send a silent thanks to your birth control. “Baby. Oh baby.” You sigh, rubbing his back as he works himself through his orgasm.

When he’s done, he collapses against you, snuggling into your chest and tucking his head into your neck. Unwilling to let this moment end right now. Soon enough you will put that wall back up and try to keep him at a distance. “Fuck.” He slurs, feeling slightly drunk on pleasure. “Best birthday ever.”

You stroke his back, kissing his neck. “Happy birthday baby.” You murmur, closing your eyes and trying to ignore the way your heart flutters. He may be your husband on paper but after this weekend, this can’t happen again. You can’t afford for it to happen again. You need to be serious and focus on his image and the press. Work through this until you can quietly divorce.

He can feel when you start to pull away, shuffling under him. Dieter groans and starts to move off of you, pulling out of you gently and flopping onto his back with a sigh. Staring up at the ceiling and wishing that he could be granted a birthday wish.

“I, uh, need to pee and then we should get some sleep. We have an early flight back to L.A.” You tell him, shuffling off of the bed to make sure you don’t get his cum over the mattress. While you pee, you rub your eyes, uncaring of your mascara as you try to figure out what to do. You don’t know what to say to him after you just had sex sober bar a few drinks. You weren’t drugged. When you come back into the bedroom, you slide under the covers where Dieter already is. “Night. Happy birthday.” You lean over to kiss his cheek before you turn away, forcing yourself to close your eyes.

“Thanks.” Dieter stares at your back for nearly an hour, watching as you pretend to sleep and then your body relaxes as you finally do give way to sleep. Sighing, he looks back up at the ceiling again and wonders when the hell he had done the dumb thing and fallen in love with you. Rolling his eyes at himself and huffing into the dark. Admitting to himself that he had been enamored with you, and this experience had just made it crystal clear he would never have what he wanted.

The next morning, you and Dieter barely speak to each other, focusing on getting to the private jet and you’re thankful his entourage seems to have disappeared. “I- I know you don’t exactly enjoy being married to me but need to make this look good in public. I can’t - I can’t live with you Dieter. I’m sorry. I just can’t do it.” You don’t tell him why, not wanting to admit that while you hated the party person he is, you have seen a different side to him, a side that you know is the true Dieter. Not the façade he puts on, what he thinks people want from him. His true self is sweet and kind and deep. He’s smart and you wish he would let others see that side of him, not just the party animal.

Dieter’s brow furrows, a hurt expression in his face and he shakes his head. “I don’t want-“ he takes a breath and decides to be honest. “I don’t want to get divorced. I want this to- try it.” He moves from the seat that he was in to drop down onto his knees in front of your own plush leather seat. “Give me six months. Six months really being Mrs. Bravo. If you aren’t happy I’ll give you the divorce. But I- I want this.” He confesses. “I was happy when we got married. I’ve been happy with you.”

You swallow harshly, unable to believe he wants you to be actually married to him. “It’s been two days, Dieter.” You shake your head, knowing you’ll be a 5 minute wonder with him. 

“Please baby. Give me a chance.” He pleads, those pretty brown eyes going glossy and part of you wonders if this is all an act. Even if it isn’t an act, he will get bored of you and if you say no, he will badger you until you say yes. 

You nod, “fine. Six months.” You agree, knowing that he will be begging for a divorce within a couple of weeks when someone else catches his attention.

He lights up, grinning from ear to ear as he pushes up to kiss you. Cupping your cheeks and moaning happily against your lips. “Six months.” He promises. “It’ll be the best six months of your life.” Smirking, he waggles his brows playfully. “And the most orgasms.” He chuckles.

You snort, knowing that he is being true when he says that. He has made you cum more times than any ex lover during an entire relationship and he’s done it in two days. When the plane lands, the paps are swarming near the gate to the private airfield but thankfully, the car is waiting on the tarmac. The cameras flash and people shout as the driver carefully navigates the crowd as he exits the airfield. “God, I hope we are old news soon. Perhaps JLo and Ben will break up soon.” You chuckle, “or maybe Chris Evans gets married and they can focus on him.” You grab your phone, knowing you still need to do your job and you wince at the amount of emails. “You have a lot of interview requests.”

He smirks and nods towards the cameras, giving them a wave before he tucks you close into his side. The luggage is already being transferred and all the two of you need to do is to get to the car. “As long as you are there, book them all.” He shrugs carelessly and reaches over to pluck your phone out of your hand. 

“Dieter!” You huff, reaching for it, but he pulls it out of your reach. “I need that!” You stubbornly insist. He shakes his head and grins at you. 

“No, my wife needs to kiss me in front of the cameras.” He taunts, holding the phone up as hostage. “Gimme a kiss and you can have it back.”

You want to slap him but instead you kiss him, cupping his cheeks and sliding your tongue into his mouth as you kiss your husband. Hoping he gives you his phone back and satisfies the vultures. You hear shouting and you press yourself up against Dieter whose arms are now wrapped around you.

Dieter grins against your lips when you pull back, already half hard and winks at you before he pulls away, handing you the phone back. “That wasn’t so hard, was it, snookums?”

You poke his chest with your phone, "never call me that again if you want your balls, Bravo." You warn playfully and he grins. 

"Whatever you say Mrs. Bravo." His words make you pause and you look down at the ring on your finger, knowing you are going to have a hard time taking it off. It seems too easy, too comfortable with Dieter. Not even 72 hours ago, you hated the obnoxious, reckless movie star and now you, God you can't even fully admit it to yourself, may even love the sweet, smart man standing in front of you. 

"We, uh, need to go." You tell him when the cases are put in the back of the car.

Opening the car door with an exaggerated flourish, he blows as he waits for you to get in before him. Totally hamming it up for the cameras and generally being in a fantastic mood as he climbs in beside you. “You’re going to love the house.” He babbles. “Have to get rid of a few things, the toys that were used with others and whatnot, but it’s perfect.” He grins as he looks over at you. “Unless you want to see the toy collection first?” He asks with raised brows. “Pick out some that you want to keep? They’ve all been sanitized.”

You raise your eyebrows, "uh, how sanitized? You know...I think we can buy some new ones. Maybe pick them out together. That would be a good couples day for the paps. Bravo and wife seen shopping for sex toys." You tease, nudging his arm. "I need to move some things over, the main things I need for everyday, and I will need to get my passport and birth certificate to change my bank account for the time being. I won't legally change my name, just my status. Less complicated."

“Okay.” He pouts, but he won’t argue with you about that. He knows that this is a trial run and you could still decide to divorce him. “I need to order you a card anyway.” He pulls out his own phone to tap out a text message to his manager to get that done for him. “I’m assuming you’re keeping your place?”

You nod, “it’s an incredible rental. Great location. I have another six months left on the rent so I don’t want to let it go. I need somewhere to live. As for the card, I know we joke but I’m not a gold digger. I’ll use it for things for the house or for you but I won’t take advantage.”

He frowns, both at the idea of you going back and the comment about being a gold digger. “Sublet the place and you use the card for whatever you want.” He insists. “I don’t even look at the statements, they just get paid.”

You huff, knowing you can never win. You nod, knowing you won’t use the card unless you need to. You look out of the window and watch L.A pass by as you make your way to his home…your home for the next six months…or less. When you arrive at his home, you are impressed and automatically in love with it. “Your home is beautiful.” You haven’t been to his home before, always conducting meetings by zoom.

The thing that is surprising about where Dieter lives is that Sherman Oaks is a residential neighborhood. It’s not the party scene and he was careful not to let things get too crazy. But often his partying is done in hotels so the neighbors adore him. “We have a pool.” He announces, leering at you. “So you can lay by the pool naked and work on my publicity.” Waggling his brows, he imagines eating you out while you are on a phone call or typing up an email.

You imagine it for a moment, just enjoying your life in your new home until you remember it isn’t your new home, it’s your temporary home. “We will see, huh?” You offer him a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes and you know this entire experience can go two ways: 1) you fall for Dieter hook line and sinker, or 2) you hate him, truly hate him. With a sigh as the car comes to a stop, you thank the driver who opens the door for you and you adjust your purse on your shoulder as you admire the house.

He fidgets beside you, wondering what you think of the house. “I- you can change whatever you want.” He offers quickly. “We can hire a contractor or decorator or whatever.” He knows that most of the house is already decorated, but maybe it’s not to your taste. He gives a shrug. “I’m not sentimental about anything there.”

You shake your head, “it’s beautiful, Diet. Besides, it’s your home and I wouldn’t change anything since I’m going to be here for the next six months.” You say to yourself as much as you say it to him. With a sigh and no response, he guides you into the home, telling you to security codes as he unlocks everything, and he knows you will want to stay in a guest room. He picks the one closest to his bedroom and you admire how clean and pretty everything is. “This room is bigger than my entire apartment.” You joke, setting your purse down.

“I liked the space in this house.” He comments as he hovers in the doorway. The driver is depositing the bags in the entryway and he sighs. “Well, I guess I’ll let you get settled.” He offers, feeling oddly depressed now that you’re here and you don’t seem very enthusiastic about being here.

****

It’s been a few days that you’ve lived with Dieter. He had arranged for movers to collect your things from your apartment and you managed to sublet it for six months. It’s been strange, living with Dieter but not actually living with him. A lot of your work is done remotely so you’ve been hanging around the house, working on the PR disaster of your own making, plus dealing with the interview requests that come in hourly. 

Since you’re so stressed, you decide to take up Dieter’s idea of sitting out by the pool. He is in his art studio, manically painting something when you last looked in on him, and you strip off, wanting to feel the hot sun on your entire body. You hum in delight when you lay down on the lounger, spreading out to enjoy the heat and just relax.

Dieter is in his own private hell. You are here but he feels like he can’t touch you. There’s a wall between the two of you and despite the fact that he had promised you orgasms, you haven’t seemed open to sex. He’s snorted plenty of coke, groaning as his mind mellows out and feels his body relax into a blissful state. Looking out the large double doors to see that you are spread out bedside the pool, naked. Groaning, he grabs a bottle of wine and a glass abs ventures outside.

You hear him approach, his feet slapping on the concrete and you open one eye to look up at your husband. “Hello hubby.” You tease, “brought me some wine?” He nods and pours you a glass, handing it to you. “Thank you.” You sip it and moan in appreciation. “Are you going to get naked and sit in the sun too or are you gonna stand there all day blocking it?” You joke.

It’s an invitation, and Dieter isn’t turning it down. Reaching for the hem of his shirt to drag over his head before he pushes the baggy, paint stained sweats down. His cock isn’t hard, but it’s starting to get that way, seeing your tits on display. “I guess I’m joining you.”

The lounger is big enough for you both and you shuffle over to allow him to lay down. You sip your wine and hand the glass to him so he can take a sip. “How’s your painting coming along?” You ask, admiring him in the sun. God, he’s too sexy for your own good.

“It’s done.” He groans at the taste of the white that he had chosen. “It’s pretty good, I think, but you can see it if you want.” He hands the glass back over to you and nods towards your phone. “Getting my image back in pristine order?” He asks sarcastically, knowing he’s never had a great public image. He’s too much of a wild card.

You chuckle, "that's an impossible task. Those coke snorting photos are still on the internet." You tease, knowing he was younger then. "I am working on it though. Bit hard to paint you as a happily married man when you've been such a whore." You sip the wine, setting the glass down and shifting closer to him. You reach out to trace the tattoo on his chest, unable to stop yourself from touching him when he's so close.

“It’s not like people change.” He huffs, skin tingling when you touch him. “When you're single, who cares who you do?” He smirks over at you. “Not like you didn’t sleep with people, you just didn’t have everyone taking pictures of every one of them and keeping tabs like it was a lottery list of who I was going to fuck next.”

His words hit you and you realize how intense it has been for him to have his entire life under a microscope, constantly photographed. "I'm sorry you've had to deal with that. I have only dealt with it for a week and it has been intense. I can understand why you sought solace in drugs and sex." You look at him as you caress his chest, down to his tummy.

“I’m sorry.” Dieter murmurs softly, feeling bad that you’ve been put through this. “It’s one for the reasons that no one lasts.” He admits quietly. “They either can’t handle the pressure or all they wanted was the press.” He doesn’t mention that he was a shit partner. He was or maybe is (?) selfish. After all, you’re here when you don’t want to be.

You shake your head, looking at him, "you shouldn't be sorry. You are a successful actor. An Oscar winner. You have achieved greatness and you should be with a partner who appreciates that and understands that your life is under the public eye. That you are beloved by the masses. You need someone who can ground you and remind you of the simple things in life like cooking dinner or going for a walk on the beach. You are a good man Dieter, selfish sometimes, but you care too much and I think that's why you haven't found the right person for you."

He bites his lip to keep him from blurting out that he had, but she just hates him. At least doesn’t like him enough to stay married to him. Instead he plasters a shit eating grin. “I always like being ordered around.” He growls suggestively, meaning in the bedroom.

"Yeah?" You tease, sliding your hand lower until you are caressing his thigh, his half hard cock near your touch but you haven't touched him there since Vegas. "You want me to tell you what to do?" You murmur, shifting closer so you can kiss his neck, licking up to the tattoo he has behind his ear.

“Shiiiiiit.” He hisses softly, cock twitching. You touching him is like a drug if it’s own. Making his cock start to throb and grow as he hardens. “Yes.” He huffs out the whine, turning his head to beg him with his eyes. “Order me around.”

You grip his chin, keeping your eyes on him, and you lean closer. “I want you to let me ride your face. I want you to make me cum on your tongue.” You order, knowing he’s hard but you want him to have to wait. This moment is about you. You want to be in charge.

Whimpering, Dieter nods eagerly and pulls his chin out of your grip so that he can slide down the longer and lay flat. “Take a seat.” He groans, licking his lips in anticipation.

You shift, straddling his face, and you exhale shakily as you look down into those beautiful brown eyes, hungry as they flick between your face and your cunt. You lower your pussy to his face and he immediately grabs your hips, practically suffocating himself with your cunt as his tongue slides through your folds. "Fuck!" You yelp, moaning his name as you cling to the top of the lounger for balance.

He groans happily, tasting you and falling in love with the musky, tangy taste. His fingers dig into your hips and he drags you closer. He wants to suffocate himself in you, he would die a happy man right here with your weight on his tongue. Flicking his it against your clit, he groans into your folds when your thighs tighten around his head.

"Oh God baby. Feels so good." You pant, rocking your hips on his face, and you cry out when he sucks your clit between his lips. "Oh God yes." You cry, rocking your hips and using the lounger as leverage to ride his face.

He chuckles, loving that you are letting go. That woman that he had experienced in Vegas is here again, rocking her cunt on your face. Dieter slaps your ass and loves the way you squeal his name again, lurching forward and he slides his tongue deep into your walls, pressing his nose against your clit.

“Oh fuck.” You buck wildly, grinding down onto his mouth as his tongue probes deep, curling and his nose rubs your clit just right. “Shit baby. You’re gonna make me cum. Always - always know just what to do. You’re gonna make me cum and then - then I want you to fuck me. Want you to - to make me scream your name so loud, everyone in this goddamn neighborhood knows you are fuck- fucking me- oh fuck!” You squeal, thighs shaking as he hits just right, sending you over the edge.

You drench him, making him groan and rock you on his face more. Drinking down your juices as they pour into his mouth with a muffled moan of your name as you slowly grind down onto him. Happily coated in your cum and cock throbbing. 

You shake above him, riding your orgasm and you move quickly despite the lethargy the orgasm grants you to shift back and straddle his thighs, gripping his cock to sink down on his hard cock while your walls still flutter from your orgasm.

“Shit!” Dieter cries out your name, shocked by the sudden way you engulf his cock in your pussy. “Oh fuck.” He looks up at you, pussy drunk and still wearing your juices as you start to move. “Oh fuck me baby.” He groans, grabbing and squeezing your tits while you bounce on him.

You want control and you take it, grabbing his wrists and pushing them back to rest against the lounger, stopping him touching you. "You don't get to touch me unless I tell you too." You order, starting to move your hips, grinding down onto his cock. You lean forward, biting down on his chin. "Your cock is mine, I decide when you cum. You understand?"

Wailing his agreement, Dieter nods frantically. “Yours, all yours baby. Oh fuck, it’s all yours.” He babbles. “Have- haven’t jerked off since we - we got back.” He confesses, blushing hotly at the fact.

The fact he hasn't touched himself makes you wild. You start to fuck him, rolling and rocking your hips frantically like you can't get enough of him. "Oh fuck. That - this cock really is mine. Fuck Dieter. It's so good. No one has ever made me feel like this. Love it. Love it." You ramble, sweat beading on your brow as you ride him like a damn bronco.

His fingers wrap around the lounger slats desperate to obey your orders and not touch you. God, he wants to. Your tits are bouncing and he wants to suck on them. He wants to slap your ass and beg you to go faster, to use him to make yourself cum again. “Love- l-love it.” He agrees breathlessly.

Your nails dig into his wrists as you desperately seek your orgasm. “Oh fuck. I’m gonna cum.” You lean forward a little more so the coarse hair at the base of his cock rubs your clit and it sends you over the edge. Coming to an abrupt stop above him as your thighs shake, a wail escaping your lips as you cum, soaking his cock.

Keening at the hot rush of liquid covering him, he bucks up into you. Knowing that he is on the edge but your words linger in the back of his mind. “Can- can I cum?” He begs. “Please, oh fuck, please let me cum.”

You ride your orgasm, catching your breath as you look down to see the desperate look in his eyes. “Not. Yet.” You say through gritted teeth, starting to rock on him again. “I want to cum once more. Do not cum.” You order, wanting him desperate and whining and pleading.

Whimpering, Dieter clenches his eyes shut, knowing that he can’t look at you. If he watches you cum again, he won’t be able to hold back. “Fuck Bravo, think about stocks. Think about your bullshit dealer.” He hisses quietly, trying to keep from cumming before you let him as he shuffles his legs under you and tries not to cum. 

You giggle at his struggle until you moan when you find the right spot inside of you. “Oh fuck Dieter. Feel so good. So good.” You moan, cupping his cheeks after letting go of his wrists. “Keep your hands where they are. You can’t touch.” You remind him, biting down on his bottom lip to stop his ramblings. You are so close to another orgasm, your thighs burning while you grind down onto him.

“Fuck.” He hisses, pouting at you. “You’re so- so, fuck.” His back bows slightly when you clench down around him and he cries out in frustration. “Fuck baby, I-I-I need to cum!”

"No!" You gasp, on the precipice of your own orgasm and you want to deny him. He gets whatever he wants and you have a chance to control this, make him beg. You cup his cheeks before you slap him, making his cock throb inside of you, so close to busting his nut. "Beg. Fucking beg me." You demand, breathless with how close you are.

“Let me cum, please, please, please let me cum.” Dieter whines, his eyes popping open and pleading with you desperately. “Please baby, please I want- I need- oh fuck.” His body goes taunt and his hand grips the slat of the lounger so hard he breaks it, trying to keep himself from cumming.

His pleas send you over the edge and you whine his name as you cum, clamping down on his cock and soaking him again. "Cum for me. Cum for me." You order with a squeal, "fucking cum."

Shouting your name, Dieter follows your order immediately. Whining and whimpering while he experiences the most intense orgasm he’s ever had, not even cognizant of what is coming out of his mouth. “Fuck, I love you, I love you, I love you.”

You freeze on top of him, your entire body going cold as you look down at him. “What did you say?” You whisper. You lean back to look at him, his cock still twitching inside of you and he is blissed out, eyes rolling into his head. “What did you say?” You ask louder, heart pounding in your chest.

Sighing and relaxing, Dieter reaches down and caresses your sides. “Fuck baby.” He pants softly, eyes still closed with a smile on his face. “God I love you.” He slurs and sighs again. “That - was, Jesus, I must have cum a fucking gallon’s worth.”

You slap his chest, shifting to get off of his cock. "Oh my God. What have you done?" You choke, grabbing your towel to wrap it around yourself as you walk into the house, tears stinging in your eyes as you absorb his words, most likely said in the heat of the moment.

Dieter sits up, dumbfounded and staring after you. “What did I do?” He demands loudly, calling after you, but you are already gone. He flops back onto the lounger and huffs, confused and hurt that you hate him so much that you play hot and cold with him. It’s cruel.

After his lust fueled confession, you stay away from Dieter, and avoid him whenever you can. Going to coffee shops to work or going out for lunch by yourself. It's not good for his PR but you manage to go to less popular areas to avoid the paps and anyone taking photos of "Mrs. Bravo" alone. You feel guilty, essentially abandoning your husband but you imagine he has some new pussy or ass to fuck that has distracted him. You usually go to your room, avoiding him, and feeling guilty and angry at your own silly emotions.

Since you left him alone, he’s drank, a lot. Realizing that you don’t love him and it’s almost enough to sober him. Ironic, he fucked around and did whatever he wanted for so long, but now he’s wanting the one person he can’t have. His head is pounding and he wants something to eat that didn’t come from a bag, so he shuffles downstairs to see if there is anything in the fridge. Hating how he feels even more alone than he did before his birthday.

You are bringing in groceries when you find Dieter rifling through the pantry. "You hungry?" You ask, speaking to him for the first time in God knows how long. You can see the dark circles under his eyes and the stains on his clothes. He hasn't been taking care of himself. "I can cook us something. Sit down." You order, setting the grocery bags on the counter.

“‘M fine.” Dieter mumbles, ready to slink off to another part of the house again. To wallow in the misery that he’s created. He’s good at that. “Just gonna order something.”

"Sit down." You tut, knowing he hasn't eaten properly. He never does unless you arrange it. He gets too in his head, too in his art and you know he's been studying that new script. "Sit down and let me make you something." You reach into the fridge to get him a beer and set it down on the counter before you put the groceries away, figuring out a quick pasta meal to cook.

Grunting, he twists the top off the bottle and gulps down half of it before setting it back on the counter. Wiping his mouth on the back of his hand he watches you move through the kitchen as if you own it. “What did I do?” He asks quietly, staring at the counter so he doesn’t have to look at you. He can tell the world to fuck off, but he’s terrified of you hating him.

You set the tomato sauce down and turn back towards him. “You- we agreed to do this for six months and then you go - you told me you loved me. I don’t know if that was in the moment but Dieter - I can’t - you don’t love me. You just - I’m the closest person to you right now so you think you do but you don’t love me.” You turn from him so he doesn’t see the pain in your eyes.

Dieter snorts and huffs out a laugh. “Wow. So you know me that well huh?” He spits, irritated that you keep looking down on him. Treating him like he’s the gum on the bottom of your shoe. “You told me you’d give me an honest chance for six months.” He reminds you. “Nice to know you're counting down the days.” The chair he had sat in scrapes back as he stands. “Wonder why I’m an asshole? I admit how I feel and I get ghosted by my wife. But you don’t really want to be my wife. You’re just biding time.” He tosses the rest of the beer in the trash. “I lost my appetite.” He tells you, turning to walk out of the kitchen, desperate to snort something to make him not give a shit.

You stare as he rushes out of the kitchen, tears stinging in your eyes and you turn to flick off the stove. You clench your jaw, suddenly angry at his dismissal. He always gets the last word. You set the spatula down and follow him, banging your hand on his bedroom door after he slammed it. “You’re such a coward. You told me when you had just cum. What was I supposed to think? That you actually meant it? It’s torture living here. Knowing that you don’t really love me, you’re just - you need attention whereas I am actually in fucking love with your selfish ass and yet I can’t escape because you let us get married while I was high. I just - I hate you. I love you! I love you too, you fucking prick. Is that what you want to hear? Because I do. I can’t stop thinking about you and I thought that if I avoided you I’d save us both the heartache when you move on to the next best thing and instead you decide to mop around and then you - God, I don’t know what to do. You’ve complicated this by making me fall for you.” You slump against the wall opposite the double doors to his bedroom suite.

Snatching the door open, Dieter growls, ready for a fight. “Then fucking leave!” He hiss, grabbing you by the arms and dragging you upright. His eyes are dark and passionate. “Leave if you’re so goddamn miserable, because I’m fucking miserable. I just want to-“ he doesn’t say another word, just crushes his lips to yours desperately. Breaking down and confessing his worst fear. “Don’t leave me.” He begs between sloppy kisses, hands pulling you closer. “Don’t. Fucking. Leave.”

You react immediately to his words, reaching for him to tangle your fingers in his hair and you press your lips to his again. “I don’t want to leave.” You admit against his mouth, sighing his name as you slide your tongue between his lips, finally feeling like you’re home.

He pulls you back and starts to steer you towards his bedroom. He needs to touch you, to taste you. Pushing you through the doors as he continues to keep kissing you. Pawing at your dress in a desperate attempt to get it off of you while he keeps his mouth locked to yours.

“Wait. Wait baby.” You push on his chest, groaning when his lips attach to your neck. “Baby. I - I am on my period.” You warn him, not wanting him to be surprised or grossed out when he fucks you. He might decide not to, if it’s not his thing.

Scoffing, he bites down on your pulse and pulls away. “So? It’s natural.” He tells you casually. “Doesn’t mean I’m not going to lick your pussy until you cum for me.”

You shiver at his words, realizing once again how different he is compared to your exes. That’s why you love him. “Oh God. You are insatiable.” You joke, letting him guide you back towards his massive bed. You haven’t been in here before.

He snickers and nips at your collar bone before he pushes you back onto the plush bed. Throwing off his shirt, he keeps the sweats on, knowing he will want to rush if he strips off too fast. “Yep.” He watches as you pull off your dress and he reaches for your panties, far more practical for your time of the month than sexy. “Period panties turn me on.” He jokes, winking at you. “Played a vampire once.”

You let him drag your panties down and he pushes your legs open, exposing your folds, and you fluster when Dieter finds the string of your tampon. “I- you can leave it in. You don’t - I know it’s not - God I have never done this before.” You fluster, covering your face, “can you leave it in?”

He thinks it’s adorable that you are so worked up over a tampon being inside you. “You’re so fucking cute.” He coos, wiggling his hips and settling between your spread thighs. “Don’t worry baby, it just tastes a little coppery.” He chuckles and peels your lips apart with his thumb. “Not even messy, besides-“ you pull your hands down from your face and look at him. “I eat my steaks rare.” He jokes before he flattens his tongue against your clit.

Your groan is a combination of embarrassment at his words and pleasure of his tongue flicking over your clit. With a whine, you buck your hips into his face and reach down to tangle your fingers in his hair. “Fuck.” You sigh in bliss, having missed this…missed him. “Always so good. You’re so good at that.” You moan when he sucks on your clit.

He wants to make this good for you. Needing you to feel loved and taken care of. Plus he doesn’t mind the way you taste at all. He hums against your flesh when you tug on his hair and grind shamelessly down on his face.

“God, that feels so good, baby. So good. I love it. I- oh shit.” Your head rolls into the pillow, so sensitive from your period, and it doesn’t take long to work you up to your orgasm. His name escapes his lips as you cum when he sucks on your clit.

He groans along with you while you ride out your bliss, watching you carefully and pulling away to kiss your inner thighs while your chest heaves. “Can I fuck you, baby?” He asks softly between kisses. He’s had enough lovers to know that every woman is different during their period. He’s a selfish asshole, but he’s not that big of a dick to expect or demand sex.

“I don’t - I’m sorry. I don’t really like sex during my period. It hurts too much. Can I- I want to jerk you off. Want to watch you cum.” You offer, reaching down to squeeze his cock through his thin sweats.

Dieter kisses your stomach and shuffles up to lay down beside you. “You don’t have to, sweetheart. I don’t expect it.” He promises. “I’m not going to be upset if you just want to lay here and rest.”

“I want to make you cum. Please.” You lean forward to kiss his neck, reaching for his sweats and when he doesn’t push your hand away, you reach in to wrap your fingers around his cock, pulling him free of his sweats. “Such a gorgeous cock and it’s all mine.” You murmur, kissing his jaw as you start to pump him in your hand.

Groaning, Dieter turns his head and chases your lips. “All yours.” He pants into your mouth, groaning again when you squeeze the head. “Fuck, all yours.” He’s needy, lifting his hips into your grip but he doesn’t care. Your touch feels so much better than his own and he wants to fall apart to it.

You love how eager he is for you, and you twist your wrist as you pump him, swiping your thumb over the head of his cock, and you slide your tongue into his mouth when he whines your name. “I love you, baby.” You murmur against his lips, pumping him a little faster before you squeeze the head again, swiping your thumb over it to gather more pre-cum.

Shuddering under your confession, he groans. “Fuck, gonna cum baby.” He warns you, cock throbbing in your hand and one twist of your wrist, he’s cumming. Painting his chest with hot ropes of his sticky seed while you milk him of every drop while he whines. “Love you.”

You work him through it, loving the wrecked look on his face as he enjoys his  orgasm. You kiss all over his face when he relaxes, “so beautiful.” You whisper before bringing your hand up to your mouth to lick his cum from your digits.

“I do love you.” Dieter promises softly. “It’s - I know you think that it’s just some kind of amusement or passing fancy. But I do.” He reaches over and cups your cheek. “I don’t regret marrying you in Vegas for a second.”

You smile, shifting to snuggle into his side, uncaring of his drying cum. “Me neither. I thought I did at first but I look back on it and it was just…comfortable. Like it was meant to be. I know we have a lot to discuss for our future and I know it’s gonna have bumps in the road but I don’t want to pretend to be Mrs. Bravo anymore, I want to be Mrs. Bravo. I want to be yours, your wife. I love you Dieter and I’m so sorry I’ve been such a bitch. It’s just - it’s been a lot to work through and I have needed time to figure out how I feel. I know what I feel and I know what I want…a life with you.”

Dieter beams happily, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours. “Good.” He chuckles against your lips. “Because I want you to be Mrs. Bravo. For real. Us, together.” He waggles his brows. “Will you move into the bedroom with me?” He asks. “Let me snuggle you after sex at least once?”

You smile, nodding at him. “Yes. I’d like that baby. I’d like that a lot.” You sigh, breathing him in. 

“And I want babies.” He adds, making you choke. 

“One step at a time, my love. We have a lot to figure out but we will do it all together.” You promise and he smiles, nudging his nose against yours. 

“Together. I like the sound of that, Mrs. Bravo.” 

You giggle, giddy with happiness that he loves you. “Me too, Mr. Bravo.”

[pettyprocrastination]

Taste Test

Pairing: Line Cook!Simon Riley x Line Cook!Fem!Reader

Summary: Simon is warned by his manager about the dangers of a workplace romance. You are asked for your opinion on seasoning.

Warnings: profanity and smoking.

Wordcount: 1.3k

Note: take this silly little thing as an apology for my utter lack of activity lately I'm so sorry yall! Made simon a linecook as a little joke au but now its kinda stuck in my head and not leaving lmao. Big thank you to @madhyanas @thesadvampire and @yeehaw-djarin for being my beta readers and editors for this story! I smooch you all <3

__________________

Simon had just finished plating his sixth steak of the night when the manager, Elise, a woman with twitching hands and cold eyes, pokes her head into the kitchen and barks his name. 

“My office.” 

The others snicker and bump shoulders like schoolboys, calling out a jested “fuck did you do this time, Riley?” that he doesn’t bother answering with words so much as a choice hand gesture thrown into the air before he ducks under the door frame and disappears down the hall. 

“You want to tell me what I’m getting chewed out for?” Simon rasps as he tucks his hands into the front pocket of his apron, scarred fingers curling around the carton of cigarettes tucked within it. 

Elise’s office is hardly bigger than the pantry, just large enough for a rickety desk piled with bills and a chair with a threadbare cushion that was all but pressed flat. 

“I’m not reprimanding you, Simon.” 

“Is that so?” 

“Think of what I’m about to say as-” Elise tilts her head, flashing him a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “A preventive measure.” 

Simon fishes out a lighter from his back pocket as she continues. She doesn’t have the energy to tell him to stop.

“What do you think of the new hire?” 

Truthfully, nothing.

You don’t talk much outside of work. While the other cooks are content to crack jokes and tell stories of their weekend to one another as they prepare meals, you have no such social connection to anybody within the kitchen. The only moments Simon had even heard your voice was the rushed announcement of your position behind somebody or when coming around the corner. 

“She’s fine.” He takes a slow drag of his cigarette and exhales, smoke curling from his lips as he speaks. “Does her job and doesn’t bitch like the others.”

“She’s more than fine.” Elise motions to a stapled pack of paper on her desk. 

 “Kid went to culinary school, trained under some big fucking names and even worked at some five-star joints before coming here. All her previous employers say she’s a hard worker who picks up shifts and doesn’t cause trouble.” 

She picks up the paper and points it towards the six foot four cook hunched in her doorway.

“Which is exactly why I’m telling you now that she is off-fucking-limits to you.” 

Simon bites down on his cigarette. “S’cuse me?” 

“Don’t play coy, Riley. You’re far too fucking grown to pretend you don’t know what you do.” 

He does know. Simon is more than aware of the past flings he’s had with multiple servers, none of which have ended on a positive note and all of which resulted in a souring work environment until they up and quit - leaving front of house understaffed until the next poor bastard walked through the door asking about the Help Wanted sign hung outside. 

But the blame can’t be on him entirely, that is. Each doe-eyed waitress entered a fling with the cook knowing good and well what his intentions were, because he had no issue with saying it right to their face. 

‘I’m not looking for a relationship.’ 

Simon is a blunt man. He tells people what he wants because in a world full of dragging feet and double entendres, he values efficiency and honesty above all else. 

“Listen, I’ve never stopped you from dipping your hand in the cookie jar before, but this?” She waves your resume in front of him again. “This right here? Off-limits. If you run this poor girl out and leave us understaffed for the Sunday rush I will fucking gut you myself, Simon.” 

It’s only been a week and a half since you’ve started working with them. Part of him wants to laugh at Elise’s exasperated accusation. That somehow, in the midst of chaotic shifts where several customers complain and a few bar patrons get rowdy enough for him to have to drag them out by the collar, he’d be able to find the fucking time to learn your goddamn name, let alone sweettalk his way between your legs. 

But then he remembers the muffled laugh you hid in your sleeve yesterday when listening to the dishwasher crack jokes during the lunch rush and how you tap the side of your apron in a constant rhythm when looking for something within the kitchen. Simon interrupts his own thoughts and frowns, mildly surprised about just how much he noticed of you from the corner of his eye during the daily lunch rush. Had Elise said nothing, he wouldn’t have cast a second glance in your direction. But now?

“Simon! Are you listening?” 

She may have just cursed herself. 

“Yeah-” He stamps his cigarette out on the ceramic tray on her desk, offering her a dry clip of his voice before turning on his heel. “No fucking the new cook until we find coverage, got it.” 

Simon narrowly avoids a stapler being thrown in his direction before ducking out of her office and back into the kitchen where his coworker grins at him from the sink. 

“So? She fire your dumbass yet?” 

Across the kitchen, you cut onions with a flicking wrist that never ceased movement, brows furrowed and mumbling to yourself. 

Simon hums. 

You’re quite pretty. 

“Not yet.” He rumbles. “She likes my smile too much.” 

You spare Simon a glance as he settles back into his work station next to you before you resume cutting. He notices there’s a scar on your bottom lip, a little sliver of raised skin that goes from the bottom of your chin to the swell of your lower lip. 

“Hey.” 

His voice shakes you from your focus, hands freezing as you turn to look at him, lightly craning your neck to meet his eyes. 

Simon holds out a spoon to you, the other scarred hand hovering beneath to keep it from spilling. 

“Mind giving your opinion? Can’t tell if it needs more garlic.”

There’s a moment where your brows cinch together and you look at him with caution, as if to sniff out any sort of deceit within his offer before you mumble, “Yeah, yeah, okay,” and lean forward. 

There’s no need for him to feed you. You’re a fully grown woman who could take the spoon from his hand with no issue, but Simon finds himself guiding it to your mouth and letting his other hand tuck under your chin in an affectionate gesture far too intimate for the back kitchen of a local restaurant. 

Simon is sure that Elise has cursed him too. He hadn’t given you a second glance or a spare thought since your first day. But now, he watches your eyes flutter shut as you hum at his cooking. 

“Good?” he asks. 

Your tongue darts out to catch a stray droplet of sauce on your lower lip. “Good.” Your lips purse like you have something more to say and you raise your hand, pinching your pointer finger to your thumb in a universal gesture. 

“Could use just a bit more garlic though.” 

There’s a brief moment after you speak where panic fills your eyes as Simon says nothing. Frantic thoughts fill your brain, wondering if that was some sort of test for the new hire that you had failed due to your own personal tastes until the man that towers over you nods. 

“More garlic.” He echoes. With a short nod of his head, he turns back to his station without another word. 

Simon doesn’t speak to you again for the rest of your shift yet at times during the night, where an unexpected pause takes over the kitchen for a brief but appreciated moment of silence, you feel his gaze on the back of your neck. 

When the time of the night comes to hang up your apron and slip through the backdoor, he joins you without a word. A large looming shadow walking in step with your own, unexpected but not unwelcome. He bids you a rasped “ ‘Night�� before turning to his car as you unlock your own, offering him a mimic of his words before you drive home. 

You notice in the reflection of your rear view mirror that he doesn’t leave the parking lot right away. But rather chose to wait until you do to finally depart. 

[naakamuraz]

only you, my girl (ethan nakamura x f!reader)

warnings: reader doubts herself if you squint, ethan has BOTH of his eyes, child of aphrodite!reader (though its only really said in one line), theyre minors (in high school)

about: pink clothing-loving girlfriend and gray/black-clothing loving boyfriend. not an ideal couple in the eyes of the gossip circle and, well, everyone at camp half-blood, but neither of you really cares what anyone else says!

author's note: first post!! theres such a lack of ethan nakamura fics so i decided to make one myself! also this was inspired by someone else but i cant remember their @, if you know please cmnt :(

school was exhausting, to say the least.

ethan was never good in school in the first place. you, however, were an honors student since elementary school. way to beat the "dumb aphrodite kid" allegations, huh? but anyways, being smart wasnt always a good thing. especially when it meant your teachers, especially the ones that hated your guts, had an excuse to pile assignment after assignment onto you.

weekends were some sort of escape for you. your weekends typically consisted of well, spending time with ethan, your perfect pair.

this weekend, you both had decided to go to the mall. he would pay for anything you wanted, always going against your protest. you always, always, told him something of the sort : "its okay, ethann! i have my own money. stop it!"

and yet he always seemed to win. you didnt wanna seem spoiled, or like you were using him, cause why would you? how could anyone ever use anyone so perfect?

well perfect in your eyes. during the summers, all you got were weird looks and mumbles. "why is she with him?"

of course, they were either referring to your difference in styles, or the fact that a daughter of beauty/love was with a child of revenge and balance.

needless to say, you didnt really care.. you loved him more than anything, even your my melody plushies!

he found you the cutest girl ever. no other girl could compare in his eyes; you were perfect.

he found your like towards all things cutesy adorable!! especially when you two would stand next to eachother, the contrast between his baggy black cargos and your pink-white skirt all too obvious.

anytime you two went to the mall, he knew you would go straight for the miniso store. though you never really asked for anything before you walked out; presumably because he would insist on paying if you did.

"ethann!" you said, your voice somehow soft like always, even when you werent trying. he was looking drawn to some skateboard store. "you can go if you wanna-" "no, its fine." he'd respond before you could even finish. you didnt wanna seem more clingy -- well, you thought you looked clingy even when you didnt -- than you already did, latching onto his hand like you two were attached at the hip.

"where do you wanna go?" he'd mumble, his fingers shifting positions - you thought he would take his hand away. instead, he simply slipped his fingers between yours.

your cheeks were slightly dusted with a light shade of pink, you still werent entirely used to this yet. nor was he, but he just liked to seem like he was.

you adjusted your white arm warmers, looking back up at him. "i dont know."

"oh, really? you usually know everything." he teased, reaching out an arm to pat down a strand of hair that was sticking out.

"hmm, maybe.." "miniso?" "hey!-" "youre really predictable, y'know-" "am not!"

your small bunny hairclip began falling out, and - before you could even reach it - he adjusted it back to exactly where it was, letting out a slight laugh.

"thank youu, ethan," you said, leaning up on tippy toes to give him a small kiss, which embarrassingly made him flustered.

"miniso it is, i guess.." he mumbled.

[thissying]

post-race press conference, GP Spain, 2024

Q: (Kevin Scheuren – Motorsport-Total.com) A question is to Lewis and Lando. Of course, I don't want to discredit you becoming driver of the day today, but Max is bringing in victory after victory, and there were slight boos at the podium as well. So would you say that there is a lack of appreciation for the accomplishments that Max has in the general public from time to time?

LN: No. It's difficult to say, I think. I mean, it's never a nice thing, honestly. People are always going to boo, I think, no matter what. You have it in every sport. You support people and you don't support other people. I think it's happened in sport for years and years and years. And Max is winning every race, so people are not going to like that. And it definitely makes the sport less exciting, but that's just because he's doing a good job. There's a fine line. I think everyone within the sport appreciates it and respects it. You have to. And I think everyone does. But people who don't know the most about motorsport are probably not going to be able to appreciate as much because they don't know what really goes into it and what it takes to be in a position and do what he's doing. So... Yeah, I don't know. You're always going to have boos is my thing. And I think there's a level of disrespect and respect in any version of disrespect. I don't think that's OK. But yeah, I mean, I'm trying to not dig a hole for myself here. I just think, whatever. I would say no. I think people appreciate what Max has done. I think people maybe should appreciate more. But every driver is going to get boos at some point.

LH: What was the question? Well, I mean, honestly, I'm not really a lot on social media or reading the news. So in terms of being like, I don't really, I'm not tapped into that to know exactly. But on the race weekends, he always has a huge crowd always. So he's always got amazing support. And at the end of the day, he does a fantastic job. Every weekend, he delivers. And he's got a great team and obviously a great car. But you can't fault him.

[gwiyeounsonyeon]

May Writing Challenge Day 19!

Pairing: Regulus Black x Muggle Born Male Reader Summary: Regulus' letter. Words: 656/200 Warnings: ANGST, Canon compliant(After Reggie's death) Notes: ooh this ones got a little kick. The lack of proper paragraphs is intentional.

☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

To my lover,

I know I will be dead long before you read this but I want you to know none of this is your fault. I have been heading down this dark path for a long time and there was nothing anyone could do to stop me. I face death in hopes that one day we can meet again and you will know that all I have done was out of love for you.

R.A.B.

You read his words through a wall of tears, your breathing grows rapid and heavy as you sob. You clutch his letter to your chest and wail at the dark sky, unable to hold it in any longer. This was the end of the world, it felt like nothing existed anymore save for the water stained parchment in your trembling hands. He was dead, your Reggie was gone and he'd never come back. He’d never get a funeral, He’d never get a grave, and Merlin knows his dreadful mother would never let a mudblood step foot in the Black Estate. Memories were all you had and even those were too dreadful to think. Echoes of your last words to him ring through your mind and you sob harder, you had been so angry, so sad, so terrified of losing him you pushed him away and now he was gone.

--

“It’s not like I can just leave.” His words are sharp like knives pushed into your heart, “That's what you want, right? You want me to leave?” Your words get stuck in your throat and you stand there grappling feeling like an absolute moron. You had to say something, you needed to convince him to stop this but he’s right. There isn't anything either of you can do now, not with him this far in. “I’m leaving tonight, to get this over with for good.” Your gaze snaps up to his face, his expression is firm and grave, your breath stutters as you hold yourself back from sobbing. “You can't be serious Reg.”

---

“You can’t be serious Reg!” You laugh as you unfold the locket engraved with your initials and his. You don’t look up in time to see the softness in his gaze or the smile threatening the corners of his lips and when you do look up you pull him into your arms faster than either of you can get a look at each other, “This is the best Christmas ever.” You whisper into the crook of his neck.

---

Your eyes flutter open as the sun filters in through the gap in the curtains, you nose pressed into the crook of Regulus’ neck, his scent bringing a calm that nearly puts you right back to sleep. You don’t close your eyes because he's still sleeping, you pull back carefully from his neck to look down at his sleeping face. He looks so peaceful, so undisturbed by the world around you.

---

As you sit leant against a pillar in the astronomy tower you stare up at Regulus’ constellation. Your mind dark and twisting your memories into thoughts of how he might look now, where he might be now. You’ve long since stopped crying, now holding the locket in the palm of your hand feeling the worst sort of emptiness. It feels like someone cut a hole in your chest and now you have nothing to fill it back up as your heart bleeds. Regulus’ constellation above you shines like he's still here, watching you from above. Soft footsteps sound from behind you but you can't find it in yourself to care if you’re caught. Sirius sits beside you silently, you look over at him but can’t find any words to say. Not that you needed too, he wraps his arm around your shoulders and pulls you into a hug. You gasp for air that feels like it never comes and sob into his shoulder holding onto him tightly.

☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

A/N: I know i really should be taking a break from posting for the weekend but i couldnt help myself

[meiissblog]

Lost feelings 💙~ Gojo x Fembodied Y/N (collage AU)

AN:

I got this idea from @kyuuppi I hope I did your idea justice 🥲 💕

Scenario:

~ Lost feelings💙~

⚠️WARNINGS⚠️

NSFW 18+ only

•A LOT OF ORAL (male giving and some male receiving 👀) • sixty-nine • face sitting• Friends with benefits?/ unrequited love (On both sides• fingering•squirting•overstimulation•

——————————————————————

Y/n POV:

“So y/n can you answer a question for me?”. “Weird way to ask a question Toru-”. You sit in Gojo’s apartment it was the end of a lazy weekend for the two of you. hanging out with your best friend like you usually do.

It is getting late you look at your watch 11:00 a.m., the next train home will be departing soon, and you have some classes in the morning. You sigh as you stretch out on Gojo’s massive couch. “-Go ahead ask away but Make it quick”.

“Do you like getting eaten out from the front or from the back?”. You blink your eyes in disbelief those words just slid out of this mouth so casually, that your heart starts to pound so hard you can hear it in your ears.

“You mean having my pussy eaten out right?”. “Yeah”. Shit.. “well… umm..”. “Y/n, have you never been eaten out before?”. I itch my head out of nervousness, looking away from Gojo. “N-no not really”.

“You mean none of your boyfriends have done it for you?”. “Nope, that’s something guys do normally? For their girlfriends?”. Gojo faces Palms. “If they’re decent then yes y/n, damn I knew you were dating assholes but what the fuck”. “I don’t know what to tell you toru, it’s not like having sex was something enjoyable in general I just kinda wanted it to be over with— but - anyways”. Shit, I’m saying too much. I think to myself as I sit back on the arm of the couch. picking up my phone and looking at it out of nervousness. I still feel Gojo’s eyes on me, I know he’s just going to ask me another question.

“Did you suck them off?”. I sigh “Yes, does that matter?”. “Yeah, so they want pleasure from you, but yet they can’t give any back pretty lacking”. “Oh, well it’s not like I’m missing anything worthwhile anyways”.

Gojo POV:

My eyes trail up y/n’s legs those leggings dangerously transparent, why the hell would she wear those things in public? Just then she crosses her leg over her knee as she pretends to stare at her phone. My eyes trail between her legs. I bite my lip slightly, should I? I mean I’ve been dreaming about teasing, tasting, and fucking her for years. -

- Right now would be the perfect opportunity to open the door. Before I decide to talk myself out of it like I had plenty of times before, I get up walking over to y/n.

I lay my hands on her outer thighs, she looks up at me with a questioning look. “Toru what is it? I have to leave-“. “Do you want to know what it’s like?”. “What it’s like to what?”. “to Have your pussy eaten?”. My heart starts to slightly pound as thoughts race through my mind. Great job dumbass what if she says no? Do I just play it off as a joke? - “Y-you want to eat me out? B-but why?”. So no immediate no, this is a good sign. I sign in relief. “What kind of person would I be if I let my best friend go without feeling real pleasure?”. She looks off, I can tell she’s thinking my anxiety slightly kicks in I’ve never felt so nervous -

-when it comes to sex, usually I don’t have to say much to get someone to do anything with me. but doing things with her feels different, it feels more real probably because I’m so in love with her.

“F-fine… I mean,- but don’t think I’m going to have some magical reaction or something”.

I laugh a bit, “No need to be nervous y/n”. y/n puts her phone down as I kneel on the couch in front of her legs. I reach behind me grabbing a couch pillow. “Put this behind your back and Lift your hips”. her face goes a little red as she grabs the pillow from me putting it behind her back.

After she gets comfortable, she lifts her hips. I quickly slip off her leggings and underwear discarding them onto the floor.

I feel my cock get hard while staring at her pretty pussy fuck.., I didn’t imagine it would be this cute.

I open her legs leaning down, “W-wait umm please hurry I need to leave soon”. She’s not going anywhere after this I smirk to myself.

I open up her slit with my forefingers while also gently reveal her little clit, I smirk again as my eyes wander over to her already-wet pussy. “You’re wet, y/n getting excited thinking about my tongue?”. “N-no..”. “You can be honest y/n, don’t be shy”. I lean down attaching my lips to her clit softly sucking on it, while also gliding my tongue against it. I look up her hand covers her mouth and her eyes are shut tightly.

Her expression shoots straight to my cock. I’m glad I’m wearing sweatpants right now, if I was wearing jeans I’d have to take them off from how hard I’ve gotten-. “Y/n uncover your mouth, I want to hear you. It’s okay if you’re loud I don’t mind I just want to hear your voice”. I sounded a bit more desperate there than I meant to, but she didn’t seem to notice. “O-oh fuck gojo”. She grabs the back of my head, with her right hand. Shoving my face into her farther. I am assuming unintentionally, but still, I moan a bit. As I start to suck and lick her clit more.

As much as I want to tease her until she cries, it’s too cruel to do that on her first orgasm. So I’ll let her have this first one without teasing.

I continue to suck lapping at her clit aggressively as her hips start to wiggle trying to get away. I quickly grab her hip and her grip gets slightly tighter on my hair as I suck her hard. “I’m cumming! Gojo I’m cumming fuck!!”. She slightly shoves herself into my mouth as I take her first orgasm of the night. She Groans in satisfaction, her grip on my hair relaxing. I immediately lick up her slick tasting her for the first time. Fuck, she tastes so good. I look up at her, her eyes covered with her arm. I can tell she’s fucked out already. I wipe off my chin with my hand.

“How was it y/n? Too good?”. “S-shut up Toru”. I smile victorious. “Do you want more y/n? Your little hole down here, won’t stop leaking even after having an orgasm”. I lick it as it comes out of her. “S-sure if you want to”. “Perfect, here get up”. “Okay”. Y/n stands up as I lay down on the couch. “Sit on my face”.

Y/n POV:

“W-what?!”. “I mean It sit on my face, here I’ll position you”. Gojo positions me so my pussy is right over his face.

I blush hard. “W-won’t I smother you? Is this safe?”. “That's kinda the point y/n, I want to be smothered by your pussy, so please lay it on me and use me to get off, I’ll tap you when I need air don’t worry”. “O-okay if you’re sure”. I hover myself above Gojo’s mouth as he sticks out his tongue he lightly licks some circles into my clit. “Y/n you can do it sit on me, I’ll be fine”. I lower myself.

his tongue going inside of me as his nose rubs against my clit. “G-Gojo -”. I moan as his tongue wiggles inside of me expertly. His hands hold my hips motioning me to move my hips slightly. It’s like he’s fucking me with his tongue. I tilt my head to the side as I register this new pleasurable sensation within my head. I’m slightly surprised and thrown off when his hand taps me.

I immediately lift my hips off of him, I cover my mouth in embarrassment. When I see his entire chin covered with my arousal as he breathes heavily. He looks up at me with an authoritative gaze. “Look at me while I eat you out y/n”. I nod kinda shocked by his tone, as his hands lower me to his mouth once again. I moan locking eyes with him as I hear lewd slurps, as he uses his tongue to tease me like before. As his nose still ever so often hitting my clit. “Gojo… I’m cumming early this time shit - it’s too good”. He playfully smacks my ass, as he unashamedly slurps up my arousal. His lips smack as he goes faster making me cum for the second within 20 minutes. Fuck, I have been missing out, haven’t I? I get off of him.

When I notice how strained his sweatpants have become. Did I turn Gojo on? N-no- don’t be stupid y/n your best friend would never get hard over you, it’s probably just a natural reaction he’d have after eating out any other girl.

You feel a slight ping in your heart as you think that, but why?

You turn around rubbing his hips “Can I touch you as well Satoru? This looks painful”. “This is meant to be about you y/n”. “I understand, but what best friend would I be if I let you sit here and suffer?”. “Alright, go ahead”. I pull down his sweatpants when his massive pale-colored cock springs out. I’m kinda shocked by the size I mean damn, he’s bigger than most of my boyfriends combined no wonder why girls like him so much.

I touch his cock, taking some of his Newley-produced precum from the tip as I start to stroke him. But I’m surprised by the sudden movement below me. “Y/n move your leg to the other side of me”. “O-okay..”. I move my leg so I’m now laying on top of him my butt in his face. I feel him lean up, slightly his long fat finger tracing my now abused slit.

I freeze, as his finger goes to my still-enlarged clit, circling it lightly with his finger. My body twitches. He’s going to lick me again, I’m going to go insane.

I play around with the tip of his cock lightly running my tongue against it and tasting his precum for the first time. “Fuck y/n, don’t tease, I let you cum once without teasing”. His voice sounded kinda whiny. I laugh a bit “You’re right sorry”. I take his cock putting it in my mouth properly sucking on it.

As one of his fingers enters me,

I close my eyes nervously. Remembering back to when my last ex tried fingering me, I had to pretend to orgasm to make him stop.

I stop myself. This is Gojo, not your ex get it together y/n! gojo wouldn’t make you feel bad. I go back to concreting on Gojo’s dick when a second finger enters me. I moan slightly his fingers are so big... I feel his fingers move inside of me fucking me. this isn’t bad it feels really good.

I Pay little attention as I take Gojo’s cock out of my mouth, stoking it again. But this time more aggressively. When I feel Gojo’s fingers curl into something inside of me.

“I found it”. He mutters, almost sounding proud of himself. His fingers slam into that spot multiple times. I lose my consideration for a second, My toes curling at the completely new sensation.

My pussy, making all new sounds I’ve never heard before. I moan without restraint probably sounding like a girl in a porno flick. As I continue to lazily stoke Gojo’s cock as I grope my left breast using my other hand. “they must’ve never done this either it’s so easy to make you cum, those men were idiots, and so undeserving of such a goddess of a woman”. I would usually side-eye him for such a strange comment, but my mind was being utterly wrecked.

My back arches a bit more as his thrusts get stronger and I bite my lip. I decide to go back to sucking Gojo’s cock his moans get louder as well. “Y/n I’m cumming -“. I hum, continuing to suck him off. Until he suddenly cums into my mouth, his fingers stopping within me. I moan, swallowing his cum as his fingers move more aggressively, as his thumb rubs my clit. G-gojo.. something’s coming.. it’s fine y/n let go-”. I gasp. My hands and my feet curl as my eyes see stars as I cum squirting for the first time.

He fingers me through my orgasm. “So sexy..”. He leans up licking my pussy directly slurping up my cum as my whole body tingles. When his tongue runs across my clit. “A-ahhh! S-so sensitive”. My eyes start to tear, and my hips wiggle as he overstimulates me by sucking on my clit again. “G-gojo d-don’t”.

He ignores me, grabbing my hips again and sucking on my clit harshly until tears come out of my eyes. My whole body shakes, as I squeal with no regard for the neighbors. Gojo is most definitely going to get a noise complaint. He steals another orgasm from me making it my fourth one for the night. This continues for hours gojo bringing me to orgasm after orgasm, I lost count at nine.

I and Gojo, are now completely naked. Gojo cleans me up using his tongue, from yet another orgasm. I’m leaning against the wall while one of my legs is up in the air when my knees buckle from under me.

Gojo catches me with ease, his naked body squishing against mine. I want to react but.. I just have no energy. I close my eyes and fall asleep.

Gojo POV:

I sit there perplexed, by how fast she fell asleep, I sigh to myself bringing her to my bed.

I lay her down, as I also get in covering us both when I hold her stoking her hair. I hope one day you’ll find a guy, who treats you like he should y/n. You deserve nothing but the best. I admire her face for a few moments before I fall asleep.

MASTERLIST

[andreafmn]

Running in Circles | Chapter 10

Word Count: 2.7K Warnings: mentions of death, religious trauma

Summary: (Y/N) Rossi is following in her father’s footsteps by joining the BAU team as a profiler. The girl genius knew almost everything but she could have never predicted falling for Aaron Hotchner, her boss, and her father’s friend. in their world mutual feelings are not enough to push them together. Will all the adversities and obstacles they face pull them together or push them apart forever?

A/N: a few days behind is better than a whole year 🫣 anywho very sentimental chapter ahead

<- Previous | Next ->

Winter had come at full force that December, and maybe that was the first sign of all that was to come. But for (Y/N), it only signified the anniversary of her mother’s death.

Just like she had done every year before, she had taken that day off, knowing her mind would be elsewhere, and her body would want to be there. Even if it fell on a weekend, she had to be sure that no calls would disturb the day. The monsters could wait one more day.

She looked herself over in the mirror. The turtleneck she had chosen felt particularly choking, her pants hung too low for comfort, and her mother’s necklace stood out too brightly against the dark clothing. Nothing was right. Nothing would ever be right. She pushed her hair behind her shoulders and sighed. That was as good as it would ever get.

She slipped her coat on before she left her house, and she wondered what her mother would have thought of her home. Would she have wanted her closer to the family home? Would she have liked the décor? Would she have poked fun at how messy the house could sometimes get, or would she not have cared at all?  Those were answers she would never get. At least not from the one person that mattered the most.

Her father’s car was waiting outside for her, his face wearing a similar solemn look to the one she had. It was the same routine every year. He’d come to pick her up, they’d go to the cemetery, and when David would tell stories of Iris, she would listen. Because she had none to share of her own. She had no memories, no stories, nothing to know of her mother that was her own.

“Hey, dad,” she said as she jumped into the SUV. “It’s a cold one today.”

“It really is,” he chuckled softly “I brought you some coffee and a butter croissant. Something tells me you didn’t eat breakfast today.”

“You know me too well, dad,” she snickered, taking the warm cup between her hands to heat her freezing hands. “Did you eat already?”

“Had myself a bowl of oatmeal with berries and bananas like your mom used to like,” he replied. “Washed it all down with some coffee and came here.”

“That’s good,” she croaked, forcing a smile. “Were you able to get the flowers? My local shop was closed when I went by yesterday.”

“Yeah. I’ve got the bouquet back there,” he smiled. “Peonies, irises, roses, lilies, and baby’s breath. All the ones she liked.”

Every time her father said things like that, her heart broke just a little more. He didn’t know it. She would never say it. But the fact that he had lived a life with her mother when she didn’t even know what she sounded like hurt. It pained her to miss a person she never had a chance to remember.

“Do you know it was your mom that would call you little bird?”

“Did she?”

“She said you were always jumping around and fleeting from flower to flower when you were outside, just like a hummingbird would. That’s why she got that necklace made for you,” David chuckled at the memory. “Even when you were just a little baby, you always seemed to calm when you were with her in the garden.”

“Well, her garden has to be the best one in all of Virginia. Even to this day.”

“You have Emile to thank for that,” he laughed. “If it had been up to me, it would have died so many years ago.”

“And I guess I inherited your lack of a green thumb.”

“That you did, little birdie,” he said. “But you did inherit her good taste. For your third birthday, the last one with your mother –may God have her in his glory—you insisted on having a garden fairy party. Iris asked you what flowers you wanted everywhere, and you said peonies. Well, at the time, you called them peenies.”

“I… I don’t remember that,” she stammered. “I wish I did.”

“That’s okay, little bird. We have the pictures, and I’m sure there’s a VHS somewhere with the video. Just have to check in storage, which might take a bit more than it should.”

“It wouldn’t if you let me organize it, dad. I’ve told you many times that you need to set up a system so things don’t get lost in all the junk you still have from the olden days.”

“Hey! You learned a lot from those olden days,” he pouted. “Those olden days paid for everything we have.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s not disorganized.”

By the time they had reached the cemetery, they were a mix of laughter and sadness, coupled with the most beautiful bouquet they’d brought to date. There was a thin blanket of snow covering the ground, a cold breeze whistling through the air. It was a horrible day to be out, but they wouldn’t miss it for the world.

(Y/N) was expecting the bad weather. And although her coat did nothing to warm her against the wind, she hugged it closer to her body. What she was not expecting was to find Hotchner and Jack waiting on a bench right in front of her mother’s grave.

“Aaron,” David called out with a smile that alerted the father and son to their presence. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

Once they were near enough, Jack took off on a soft run toward the woman. “(Y/N)!” he called as he reached to hug her. “You said we could come, remember?”

“Of course I do, buddy,” she smiled softly. “I’m happy to see you.”

“This is your mom, right?” The boy led her to her mother’s tombstone by the hand. “Iris Jensen.”

“That’s right,” she said. (Y/N) knelt down and ran her hand across the picture of her mother, tears already building in her eyes. “This is my mom.”

“She’s very pretty.”

“She is, isn’t she?” (Y/N) chuckled as her body betrayed her. Tears fell down her eyes before she could stop them, warming her skin before turning freezing under the weather. Jack quickly reached into his jacket, pulled out a blue handkerchief, and handed it to her. “Thanks, kid.”

“Jack, why don’t you join me on the bench, and I can tell you about her?” David said. “I’ve got some great stories.”

“Is that okay, (Y/N)?”

“Of course, Jack,” she smiled. “Go ahead.”

As the kid ran to her father, Hotchner wrapped his arms around her. Normally, she would have grown flustered at the interaction, but at that moment, she needed the comfort. “You okay?” he asked quietly. “This must be so hard.”

“I don’t know why I’m like this,” she muttered. “It’s been years already. I barely even knew her.”

“She was still your mom, (Y/N). It’s only natural that you feel this way.”

“I don’t even remember what she sounds like,” the woman sniffled. “I don’t even know what kind of mom she would have been growing up.”

“I… I’m sorry, (Y/N). I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s okay,” she smiled softly as she let him go. She got on her knees and started cleaning the tombstone, removing all specs of snow regardless of how futile it may have been. “There’s not much to say.”

“All I know is that I wish I had met her.”

“Yeah,” she chuckled. “Me too.”

Aaron left her by herself then, allowing her the space to tell her mother about the year that had passed. She told her about her cases, told her about her friends, and even told her about her ever-growing feelings for an unmentionable person. But, most of all, she told her about how much she missed her.

But it didn’t go over her head how she missed someone that much without really knowing who they were. She carried inside an emptiness that wasn’t easily filled, and as hard as her father tried, never would be. And David tried, in his own way. He had his own grief to carry, and she knew that. She knew he hurt and wished Iris was still with them. But he’d found solace in the time he had shared with her while (Y/N) yearned for even just a second more with her mom.

“I wish you were here, mom,” she cried as she stood. “I see videos of you, and I can’t tell if that’s what you really sounded like or if your voice is too distorted by the camera. I wish you’d had more time, mom.”

“You and me both, little birdie,” her father said as he joined her. “But she’s in God’s glory now.”

(Y/N)’s blood boiled at that moment. She had never been religious, much to her father’s dismay. More than just the deity not fitting into her scientific mind, she couldn’t believe in a god like her father did. Normally, she didn’t mind his religious interjections. They were a part of who he was, and she didn’t want to belittle his beliefs. But that day, something inside her couldn’t stand it. Much less when he started to mutter a prayer.

“I’ve asked you to please not pray aloud when we’re here, dad. Do you mind?”

“Honey…”

“No, dad. I really don’t want to listen to you talk about your god or ask to have mom in his infinite mercy. I don’t wanna hear about it!” Her tone came out harsher than she intended, but she couldn’t contain herself. Years and years of bottling up her feelings had her at her limit, and it was that moment that they had chosen to spill over. “Just, keep it in your head.”

“I don’t understand, (Y/N). You never minded before,” David muttered. “There was a time you used to believe in God. You even used to ask me to pray with you.”

“Jesus, dad, I did that for you.” As she exclaimed Hotch told Jack to wait for him in the car, that (Y/N) needed a moment to herself. Hesitantly, the boy followed his father’s instructions and walked the short trail to the van. All he could understand was that (Y/N) was upset. Once Jack was gone, she continued. “How could I ever believe in a god that took my mother away before I could even remember what my name sounded in her voice? I only went along with it because it seemed to make you happy, but I can’t anymore. I can’t listen to another word of how your god is merciful and how it was all his plan. He took my mother from me. How could I believe in a god that would take a mother from a child? All the memories I have of her are from behind a screen or moments lived by other people. I don’t remember anything about her that’s mine only, dad. You always tell me how you would love to have a second chance with my mom, and I didn’t even get one.”

(Y/N) crumbled to the ground once more and suddenly felt arms around her. Instantly, she knew who it was and found herself sinking into Hotch’s embrace. He tried his best to calm her, telling her that everything would be okay and that she wasn’t alone. She was normally the strong one. She was always the one who kept it all inside and helped others. But too many years of that had her shattered on the ground of the cemetery.

It took a few minutes for her sobs to finally subside, Hotch’s soothing circles on her arms working overtime to calm her down. They had ended up sitting on the cold ground, the snow slowly making its way through their clothes, but neither seemed to care. All that mattered was the comfort and the presence. Nothing else.

“You okay?” Hotch whispered as she finally seemed to calm. “Feeling better?”

“I don’t even know,” she chuckled weakly. “Your pants are dirty now. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry, I have a washer,” he joked. “But how are you feeling? I know this must be a very overwhelming situation.”

“I don’t know what I’m feeling, honestly,” she sighed, sinking into the warmth of Hotchner. “It’s the first time I’ve ever blown up like that toward my dad, and I don’t know why I did. It’s been over twenty years that we’ve been coming here, and I’ve never acted like this.”

“I think it’s safe to assume you’ve been bottling up all these feelings for all that time. They were bound to come out one day or another.” 

“Don’t profile me, Hotch,” she pouted. “But you’re right. I mean, he lost the woman he loved, and even though I lost my mom, I felt bad for him because he’s the one who had all the memories with her. I never wanted him to feel bad or guilty for the fact that I had to grow up without her. Still, every time he says something like her death was god’s plan or that he has her in her mercy, it just sets me off.”

“Have you ever thought that religion is the way that he copes with her death? Maybe thinking that she is in heaven or that it was her time is his way to come to terms with the fact that she is gone.”

“I guess a part of me does understand that. But there’s a side that doesn’t want to,” she sighed. “But I guess I have to apologize for the tantrum.”

“Your feelings are valid, (Y/N). It’s just the way you express them that could be hurtful to others. But your dad’s a big boy,” he chuckled softly. “He’s at the car with Jack. You ready to go over there?” 

“As ready as I can be.”

Hotchner got up first, waiting with his hand extended until she needed it. And with another glance at the tombstone, she took the hand and stood up as well. The man walked beside her the entire time, his presence alone was enough to keep her grounded. As much as she wanted to break down and fall apart, she needed to keep it together.

“And she could spend days in her studio just painting, forgetting that hours passed. She would just lose herself painting and painting,” her father smiled as he talked to Jack. “She would have been there the entire day if I had let her.”

“Do you have any of her paintings still?”

“Of course! All over the house,” he chuckled. “Would you like to see them, Jack?”

“Yes! Can we, dad?” Jack asked as he noticed his father’s approaching figure. “I wanna see the paintings.”

“If it’s alright with Dave, then it’s alright with me.”

“Of course!” the man exclaimed. “The more the merrier. We’ll see you there.”

David and (Y/N) walked to the car in silence. Not saying a single word until they were inside. “I’m sorry, dad,” she finally muttered. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you like I did. You don’t deserve that.”

“I’d say it was long overdue, kid,” he smiled softly. “You like to keep the peace and keep everything in. I’m surprised it hasn’t happened before. You have nothing to apologize for, little bird.”

“But I do, dad. I shouldn’t have yelled at you regardless.”

“Your mother used to say that yelling is the way the soul speaks,” he said. “When you can no longer keep anything in, it comes out fast and unmeasured. Words come out with thorns and spikes. And much like a flower, they don’t mean to hurt you, but it is in their nature to protect themselves. It’s okay to let it out once in a while. Doesn’t matter how it hurts. If my beliefs hurt you, mia bella, all you have to do is tell me. I will try my best to keep it to a minimum.”

“And I will try to talk about how I’m feeling instead of yelling it,” she smiled, taking her father’s hand in hers. “I love you, dad. And I’m still sorry.”

“I love you too, little bird,” he beamed. “And you can make it up to me by helping with dessert tonight. We’re making your mom’s favorite.”

“Tiramisu,” they chorused.

Next ->

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[soaps-mohawk]

Kyletober was fucking amazing. I'll admit I haven't gotten through all of it, part of it being personal preference regarding some of the kinks, but what I have read was fun and sexy as hell. And I'd definitely enjoy it if some of these were turned into full length fics. But it's also great to hear that CRCB is back on the menu, because I'm not proud of this, but it's still a thing I think about non stop. The lack of updates has not eased the burden of the brainrot at all. Feel free to take this as a chance to ramble about the world building in general, but my god my heart goes out to every Omega in your universe. Because the more I thought about the more the treatment of Omega's starts to eerily resemble how we treat pets in our world. Specifically institutes. And I have to ask, to soothe myself that Omega's don't have it all that bad in this universe.

Just how commonly are Omega's sent off to institutes? Because from the way it's talked about it seems like that's the norm which seems complete bonkers to me, because bad or good parents I doubt most of them would be okay with sending their child off to what is essentially a boarding school and never hearing from them again, not knowing what packs they end up in and what life they live.

The high school I went to has a dorm for students from nearby farms, and the parents of 18 year olds still hesitate to send them there even though they come home on the weekends and y'know, they don't go no contact, so I doubt these parents would be okay with an even stricter arrangement. I wouldn't believe it if there's no pushback from families of Omega's, especially if one of the parents is an Omega themselves. Speaking of that, are Betas and Alphas completely okay with this system too? Just choosing a life long partner from a list of candidates? In another post you did mention some families keeping Omega's until their old enough to search for packmates organically, which I fucking hope is the norm, but even if that's the case does that mean the Alphas and Betas that turn to institutes are in fact the "bad" ones that don't exactly value Omega's as people?? Because I can't decide if that's worse. There has to be some pushback against both betas and alphas, but also if the perception around Alphas is analogous to "not all men" in our world I'm guessing it's not very likely.

And I guess this leads into my last point which is if bonding with between an Alpha and Omega is scene as a lifelong thing in this world, do institutes give any protection to Omega's that have just been sent off to packs? I'm going to assume that they at least have the courtesy of doing background checks, but what about after that? Is there some kind of system where they check in on the pack and the Omega? Since you did also mention that sometimes a bond doesn't form and an Omega is returned, so it's not like an institute completely forgets about the Omega they just let off into the world. Like if an Omega is sent off to a pack that ends up being abusive there has to be some system in place to not just prevent that but stop it if it's already happening. Like in another post you mentioned about Alphas having multiple Omega partners. Especially since I'm guessing the whole reason Omega's have no rights on their own is a spin on the fact they're so sacred and need to be protected and monitored (and you can throw in the usual their too emotional and weak minded to function on their own). If not then I'm praying this is a rare occurrence since I guess in packs Betas would be the ones to stop this kind of behavior, and essentially serve as mediators between Alpha and Omega, especially when an Omega is being integrated into the pack. But still it would be reassuring to know that even if they don't have rights there's at least systems in place to protect them, even with institutes, because my god I don't know if this was intentional but Omega lives just sound so depressing and dystopian in this universe. It's part of the reason why our 'Megas story is so tragic too. Not a single choice she could have made to prevent what happened to her. (And NGL is part of the reason I'm still so pulled into this fic. I've reimagined with countless of my OC's who would be Omega's, rebellious or not.)

I hope this was at least somewhat comprehensible because it's the result of many late night brain worms and many rereads of your work. I'm looking forward to more updates but also no pressure! And I hope above all else you are doing great and all these big changes coming in your life will go well and with as little turbulence as possible :DD

Aww I'm glad you enjoyed Kyletober!! Like I said, there's no pressure to read any of them that aren't your thing. Not everything is for everyone and I respect that.

Yess CRCB is back, or will be back as soon as I can get the next chapter done. But anyway, omegas do really have it hard in this universe I've created.

As far as institutes, it kind of depends on the situation. I'd say it's kind of split pretty closely between sending an omega to an institute versus keeping them at home to allow bonds to grow more organically. It kind of depends on the location too. Some areas don't have very many institutes so the more common way packs are formed are through organic relationship building. Some areas, typically richer areas, will have more institutes and it's more common to send omegas to institutes there.

Most of it is just personal preference when it comes to families. Some omegas know from before they present that they'll be going to an institute if they present as an omega. Others wind up there by accident in less favorable circumstances. A lot of packs might choose to send their omegas to institutes to give them a chance at a better life. Again, it just kind of depends on a case by case basis.

Most betas and I'd even say alphas, don't really know what institutes are really like. They kind of have this understanding that doesn't branch beyond common knowledge and what they hear, etc. I can imagine there are a lot that are against institutes and as is mentioned in the fic, there are some emerging studies being done on institutes and better ways to handle omegas. On the flip side, there's a lot of alphas that like institutes because it's a good way to find a good omega and know what you're getting before you decide. A lot of institutes are okay with sending omegas off with just anyone who's willing to pay the price. Some institutes, like the one 'mega went to, do have more extensive processes for alphas, but again, like we've seen, they're not above corruption either.

Institutes do check in with alphas after omegas are sent, and there is like a time period where the alpha has the ability to return an omega if things don't wind up working out for whatever reason. It's less checking up on the omega themselves and how they're doing, and just more how they're performing and if the alpha is satisfied with the product. Some institutes don't check in at all. It's kind of a sign, sealed, delivered kind of thing and once you walk out the door that's it. Once an omega is sent out from an institute, it's entirely up to the alpha they've been sent to, to make those decisions on whether or not they stay. An omega can't decide they want to go back to the institute since omegas don't have that right once they're with a pack. It's entirely up to the alpha since alphas are the ones in charge of the omegas once they leave. Institutes don't care at their core. It's all about making good omegas and making them attractive to potential alphas who will put money in their pockets.

Yeah. It's gross.

Outside of institutes omegas do have more of a choice as far as alphas go. It's more organic in that omegas get to meet alphas and do more of a dating type thing. It's not all good though, as being an unclaimed omega in the world leaves you vulnerable to alphas that aren't above being despicable human beings. Omegas can still wind up in very bad situations, and even then they don't really have rights. They're under the control of their family pack and that control gets signed over when they find an alpha they want to form a pack with.

I hope this made sense and answered your questions. My brain is mush right now lol.

[elisysd]

5. We'll talk, then we'll cry, then we'll laugh 'til we're done

Masterlist - Previous - Next

Chapter soundtrack: TRUSTFALL - P!nk

Behind a Haas. Never in his career would he have ever thought he would end up behind a Haas. Not that he thought it was a bad team, he truly thought that both Kevin and Nico were fighting the best they could with the car they had. But struggling this much, in a car that was supposed to fight for wins, against one that was the worst of the grid hurt. It wounded his ego and the questions he had already answered hadn’t helped to ease the blow. So, seeing you, adjusting something on your microphone as you were talking quickly with a Spanish journalist, made him sigh. He was dreading your questions as usual but, a part of him was hoping that the chat you had a few days ago and your confessions had improved your relationship. He hoped that it changed something. He hoped he hadn’t been the only one to feel it. As he walked to you, he first noticed your apologetic and empathetic smile. 

“What a weekend for you Charles. Could you tell us more about what happened?”

“I don’t know, really. I feel like I’m repeating myself each weekend but… we have to truly sit and talk about the car and what we can do to improve because we can’t keep going like that. I had no feeling with the car, I was struggling in each corner. Truly one of the most painful races in my career.”

“Do you have any hopes for the situation to improve?”

“Thankfully, Fred already managed to build up a strong team spirit. We can all talk freely, that’s something that was seriously lacking before, so I trust Fred. We will bounce back and come back stronger.”

“Thank you, Charles.”

Getting out of the media pen, he was in a better mood than when he got in. It had felt nice to talk with you, even briefly and if Silvia had not pushed him to leave, he would have stayed. Your gentle smile had calmed him down. He shook his head, suddenly feeling very stupid. Now was not the time to start to develop a crush on you. He would only make a fool of himself, knowing perfectly that you would never reciprocate whatever feelings he could have. He breathed in and breathed out the hot hair of Florida before Silvia told him that he had to hurry to not be late for the meeting. He couldn’t wait to get inside, at least there would be AC. But he wasn’t excited for the meeting ahead. He knew it would be a long one. Fighting with a Haas was not supposed to happen in any way, shape or form. 

You were coming out of your post race debrief as the air felt cooler on your skin. You were tired. It had been a very stressful weekend between the race preparation and your nerve wracking interview with Charles. It had left you emotionally empty. Luc was a tough subject. One you hated talking about. You hadn’t much if you were honest. You had kept it bottled out inside of you, hoping that by not mentioning it, it would be easier to let yourself heal. It was stupid. And you were only seeing it now. You hadn’t been fair to Charles. He didn’t deserve it. And still, he had not judged you when you had explained what had happened to Luc. It felt good. But quickly, you felt scared. By talking about your grief, you felt a little lighter as if it was freeing you. But you didn’t want to be free. You didn’t deserve it. You wanted to keep Luc’s memory alive within yourself. You didn’t want to let go. You didn’t want to let him go. You didn’t want to forget him. And talking to Charles felt like it. You shook your head, trying to get a grip and decided to wander the paddock, fishing for information. That was what you loved to do. It was quite easy, you were just walking from one end of the paddock to the other, trying to see if people were available for a little chat. You were doing that a few times. That was kind of like your working out routine on race weekend. It was how you would get little insides from the teams, new and useful information.  

Though, you were a bit hungry. You hadn’t had the occasion to eat lately, busy with everything that was happening around you. A few biscuits here and there had made their way to your stomach but that was all. You could feel a migraine coming and with the sun still high in the sky and the air still hot overall, your visions start to blur. You barely had time to lean against a motorhome wall when you felt two strong hands grabbing your shoulders and a voice that was feeling so far away from your ears. You felt yourself being forced to sit down on the ground as the voice screamed for water. You felt the tip of the bottle against your lips as the fresh liquid was being poured into your throat. It didn’t take long before you started to feel better and that’s when you saw a red cap and two blue green eyes worryingly looking at you. 

“Nothing good ever comes out of Miami.” you mumbled sheepishly, feeling your cheeks redden. 

“That’s something I can agree with you.” the monegasque replied.

You tried to get up and stumbled. If it weren't for Charles' quick instincts, your face would have met the ground. His hands around your waist, your face close to his chest and his eyes intently looking at you made you feel suddenly very conscious of your surroundings. Trying to avoid his intense gaze on you, you tried to search for a diversion, anything that could break the intimacy of the moment. 

“Nice pants.” you ended up saying. 

“Yeah? One of my friends is a designer. He gifted them to me. They stand out, I wasn’t sure at first but…”

“It was sarcastic.” you cut him. 

“Oh.”

“You make questionable choices in every aspect of your life as it seems.”

“Come on, they are not that bad.” he defended himself.

“You’re right. They are worse.” you chuckled, making Charles do it as well. 

“I will blame the heat. You don’t know what you are saying.” he softly smiled. 

As you were about to leave him to go back to your hotel you felt him next to you. 

“Let me give you a ride. I would feel better knowing you made it home safely.”

“You don’t need to act like a knight in his shiny Ferrari, you know.”

“I would feel responsible if something was happening to you.”

“I’m a big girl.”

“A big girl who faints when there is a little sun outside.” he teased you.

“I don’t want people to see us together. I don’t want anyone to imagine that something is going on between us.”

“Do you trust me?” he asked. 

“No.”

“Well, you will have to because I’m not letting you walk away alone.”

You were about to reply when he took your hand in his and forced you to follow him.

“I promised I would show you that some people are decent human beings. This is me proving it to you. Accept it.”

Reaching the hotel, you still look awfully pale and you didn’t even try to argue when Charles told you he wouldn’t leave your side until he was sure you would be okay on your own. You found it stupid but you were so tired you didn’t send him away. It would have been useless anyway.

“You know,” you began arriving in front of your door, “ I can manage from there. I’m going to order room service, take a shower and work a little…”

“Not even in your wildest dreams. You won’t work after almost fainting. You are going to rest.”

You glared at him. Who was he to try patronizing you?

“I’m going to do whatever the hell I want after crossing this door. I don’t even know why you even think you can allow me to do stuff or not. You won’t be there to watch over me.” you raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“Do you want to test me?” he replied in the same tone as you. 

“What if I do?”

Quickly he snatched the card from your room, hanging loosely between your fingers and threw you over his shoulder as he unlocked the room and walked in. You didn’t even have the time to protest as you were already sitting on your bed as he poured a glass of water from your carafe. He didn’t even ask you before ordering two burgers with double portions of fries for you from the phone. 

“You are truly something else, Leclerc.” 

“I know.”

“Very humble with that.” 

He laughed, making you roll your eyes, slightly annoyed. Understanding he wouldn’t go anywhere, you decided to still work on what you had planned. You took your laptop out of your bag and opened it on a blank document on which you typed Imola 2023. You prepared a few documents like the race recaps, the track history and started to write some notes and highlight the parts you deemed useful. You could hear Charles muffles and his breath down your neck as you turned around, your left hand closing your laptop. You both stared at each other, waiting for the other one to flinch and give up. 

“I said no work for you.” 

“You’re not my boss.” you replied. 

“I might not be him, but I’m sure Jean would be exhilarated to know that a member of his team fainted in the paddock because she doesn’t know how to take care of herself.”

“I didn’t faint.” you corrected him, gritting your teeth together. 

“Thanks to me. Listen, there is a little break before Imola, you can rest. You don’t have to work right now.”

“I feel fine! And I want to prepare some stuff now. I have the weekend in mind, I’m in the mood to work and I surely didn’t ask for your opinion on that. You can leave, I’ve never asked you to stay.”

“Maybe you didn’t but I want to.” he argued. 

“You’re so annoying!”

“Great, so now you know what it feels like whenever I look at you!”

You hissed and turned your back at him. Maybe if you ignored him, he would leave you alone. As you opened your laptop again, it was closed almost immediately by his hand and you barely had time to process the situation that he took it away from you.

“That’s it! I’m calling the security!” 

You didn’t have time to do so as someone knocked at your door and as if he owned the room, Charles went to open it, said a few words that you could barely make out and came back, the trail of food in front of him. 

“I don’t want to fight…” he sighed. “Let’s make peace around two very greasy burgers.”

“Is that allowed in your diet?” you arched an eyebrow. 

“Will you release an article about me not following it properly?”

You shook your head in his direction. 

“Then we are good. And after this disastrous weekend, I think I deserve a treat.” he told you before taking a huge mouthful. A little bit more shyly than him, you did the same. 

Surprisingly, he was easy to talk to. You talk about many things, the sport's history and he tells you how much he loved Senna and how much he meant to him. He talked about his brothers, his friends and how one of his best friends was the dad to an adorable daughter whom he loved very much. He even was keen on showing you pictures of her. He talked about his life with such ease that it threw you off. He didn’t really know you but yet he trusted you with so many private parts of his life. He felt like an old friend, someone you had met in another life. You were not one to believe in soulmates but yet, he could make you change your mind. Maybe in a past life you were friends. Maybe in a past life you wouldn’t have made all the mistakes you made in this one. Maybe in another life, you had a family. 

You started to feel emotional and he noticed it. 

“Anyway… what about you?”

“What about me?” you repeated. 

“Tell me something about you.”

You sighed. You were much more at ease with making people talk about themselves than you were with talking about your life. 

“What do you want to know?”

“Anything. Why is your job that important to you? To the point that you don’t even want to be my friend…”

You gulped, fidgeting with your napkin. 

“That's all I have left. My parents don’t talk to me, my best friend has her own life, I travel most of the time, you know how it is. My job is the only constant in my life, the one thing that truly makes me happy. I’m alone. And it’s fine. I’m not saying that for you to pity me. I made peace with it. I’m alone, it’s a fact.”

“Having a good support system is so important for me, it helps me, it grounds me. I’m sorry you don’t have that.”

“You don’t have to. I’m fine, you know.” you smiled. 

He scooted closer to you, snatching fries on your plate making you whine in protest.

“So, you studied journalism.”

“No shit Sherlock.”

“How was it?”

“Fun. Tiring. I spent a year in New York to study there. I used to cover the Yankees’ games and the Knicks’. It’s fun how it had nothing to do with F1. I was supposed to meet an old friend there in the next few days.”

“No way!” Charles laughed. “That’s a funny coincidence, I’m going to New York for a few days as well and I’m invited to the Yankees’ game!”

It made you laugh as well involuntarily. That’s too big of a coincidence for you to keep your poker face. It seemed life had decided to play you by throwing Charles in every aspect of your life. 

“I didn’t take you for a baseball fan.”

“I’m not. But I like to discover new things. It will be fun, I’m taking my brothers with me.”

“I could teach you a thing or two about the sport if you’d like.”

You didn’t know why you said that and from the look on his face, he wasn’t expecting it either. There was silence. Uncomfortable. You checked the time and stood up, almost running to your suitcase, pretending to look for something as you’re unable to look him in the eyes. 

“It’s… it’s late and I have an early flight tomorrow. Not that I’m forcing you to leave but…” you stuttered. 

“You need to sleep. It’s okay, I understand and you’re right it’s late.”

You could see in his eyes that you hurt him. You didn’t mean to, of course, deep down you truly appreciated what he had done for you today. He cared and it had been such a long time since someone cared for you that you didn’t know how to take it. You closed your eyes and breathed in before getting up and looking at him. 

“Thank you. For today. I haven’t told you and I’m feeling so ungrateful when you went out of your way to make sure I was okay. I haven’t been the nicest and you didn’t deserve it. You’re a good guy. Maybe you were right, there are still decent men out there.”

He smiled at you and took a step towards you, putting a hand on your shoulder. That was the first time he had ever been that close to you, willingly. No accident, no fainting, just a calm and steady comforting hand on your skin. You shivered and felt your cheeks getting hot. If he noticed it, he didn’t comment on it. 

“Maybe you don’t want to be my friend but I want you to be mine. And I’m always there for my friends. Whether they like it or not.” he chuckled. 

“Why?” you whispered. 

“Because you look like you need one. And I like lost causes. I’m a Ferrari driver after all.”

That time you laughed. A real, big and loud laugh. It made him smile wide. You shook your head, punching him lightly on his chest. You went with him to your door and as you opened it, you both jumped noticing Marion in front of you. She was as surprised as you were. Her eyes darted between Charles and you, making you both uncomfortable. You could already guess what was going inside her mind. Charles sent you an apologetic look and avoided Marion as he left you alone. 

“Marion, I swear it’s not what you might think it is.” you rushed to explain. 

“Y/N. I don’t care. I really don’t. I won’t judge. I know how tempting it can be, just be careful. If you want to play with fire, you will get burned. These guys are pure gasoline on dry wood under a heatwave. One small ray of sun on it and it’s wildfire spreading for weeks.”

“You don’t have to worry. Nothing happened, nothing is happening and nothing will ever happen between Charles and I.” you stated. 

But for an unknown reason, you had a hard time believing in your words. 

Author's note: It's progressing. Slowly. But don't worry, they will get there. For now, I really do enjoy writing their banters.

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