#PLEASE send me more of that story if you have it. I am hooked

[cosmoknightchaos]

For the Stupid Ask Game can I suggest uh.

.

based on whatever impression you've gotten of this character from what you've seen from me probably:

vampire cookie

(I know not your fandom but I've probably put this character in your dash enough plus uh. I showed you that thing I was writing ;3 [speaking of I have more I should probably send you-)

Oh shit! You're not one of the three mutuals who normally send me asks! Woah!

Hi bestie :) From what I've heard about Vampire Cookie, I'd :

Absolutely hit him with a brick

Augh fuck characterizing a guy I'm not familiar with. I think it's safe to say Vampire Cookie would not be happy if you hit him with a brick. It's hard to find someone that enjoys getting hit by a brick. He'd either give you an insane side-eye and then ignore you forever, or he'd say some gayass one-liner and I would fall in love on the spot.

Yeah shitty sibling behaviour deserves to be hit by a brick. No idea if your portrayal of him is close to canon or not, but if it is, then he absolutely deserves to get bricked.

[drewizz]

THIRD TIME ꕀ rafe cameron x reader

SYNOPSIS: Rafe Cameron doesn't do relationships. He also tends to become vulnerable around people he have a soft spot for, which oscillates his emotions from the high and the low. In the end, it's a story of three tries that took him to settle with you, at ease.

PROGRESS. 11/28/24 ; ON HOLD.

CONTENT. smut (MDNI*), alcohol consumption, slow burn, toxicity thematics, cheating implications, rafe x sofia for the plot, more to be added if needed.

TAGLIST. open! comment or send in an ask any time

chapters. * indicates smut

01. exordium

02. peripheral

03. fortuitous

04. ardor

05. dicey *

06. conundrum

07. lethal

08. blunder *

09. tba

more to come!

NOTES: hello!! i'm very excited to start this series, i've been planning it out for quite a bit.. do feel free to comment and talk to me through asks! please talk about anything you might expect to see or whatnot.. but i am telling you that it'll be slowburn..

* i am not responsible for any content you consume. regardless, skipping smut will not affect series information/storyline. however, be mindful of thematics which skims topics of sex/hooking up (not necessarily explicit).

[kabr0ztrousers]

Kabr0z Writes: A contents page!

The Kabr0z Writes series is a smut anthology that I am writing one per day, every day. Episodes will often not be related to one another, and will be clearly marked if they do.

Each part will have separate CWs at the top of the story, along with any author's notes I feel are pertinent. Please read these as tone veers wildly throughout

If you want to see something, and it doesn't look like it's been written already (or even if it does) please, please, please, send me an ask, a dm, anything, and I'll probably wind up writing it. 365 stories is a lot of stories! I need all the inspiration I can get!

Everything is OK to reblog, remix, copy, paste, whatever. Just please credit me if you do.

#########################################

Episode 1: The First Time - in which masc!reader invites a man from the internet for oral sex

Episode 2: The Previous Tenant - in which a presence in a cheap flat invades fem!reader's dreams, then body

Episode 3: A Very Bad Idea; Part 1 - in which fem!reader and a close friend dabble in demonology

Episode 4: A Very Bad Idea; Part 2 - in which things go from bad to worse

Episode 5: A Very Bad Idea; Part 3 - a moment of tenderness, then bad medicine, then mad science, a feeling we haven't seen the last of this

Episode 6: Wedding Dong - Fem!reader goes to an old friend's wedding, meets another old friend, and has a roll in the rhododendrons

Episode 7: The Rowing Team - in which fem!reader attends a party, and gets ganged up on in more ways than one

Episode 8: Concerning Portals - in which fem!reader wears some mysterious underwear on the bus. It turns out to be a bad idea

Episode 9: Farm Work - In which Fem!Reader has a really bad day, culminating in being livestock on a hucow farm, with some added TF fun thrown in

Episode 10: Debt, part 1 - In which Fem!Reader agrees to 3 nebulous tasks in return for enough money to cover her mounting debts

Episode 11: Debt, part 2 - Professor Blaidd takes Fem!Reader to a party, as the main course

Episode 12: Debt, part 3 - The experiment involving Fem!Reader and Professor Blaidd comes to a sloppy conclusion

Episode 13: Tiptoe Through the Tulips - In which a gardening contest is taken too seriously, and leads to some whipping, then some tribbing

Episode 14: Artistic Intent - Fem!reader sits for an art class, then sits on the teacher

Episode 15: German Sausage - A long distance train sees Fem!Reader get very well acquainted with her cervid travelling companion

Episode 16: Fae Deals, part 1 - the start of the third 3 parter, Masc!Reader meets a Fae prince on Grindr and tries to hook up. They go to a second location where Masc!Reader becomes Fem!Reader

Episode 17: Fae Deals, Part 2 - Newly Fem!Reader is turned over to the Fae Prince's friends before being passed around

Episode 18: Fae Deals, Part 3 - Fem!Reader is introduced to her new friends at the hunting lodge. It's... a lot (seriously, read the CWs on this one)

Episode 19: Four Seasons Landscaping - Another palette-cleanser after yesterday. Fem!Reader has a gig to do some "minor weeding" and winds up getting up-close and personal with a flower

Episode 20: Your Minotaur Boyfriend - A quick scene of intense, enthusiastic fucking between fem!Reader and your king-bed sized minotaur boyfriend

Episode 21: The Lake - By request! Fen!Reader goes skinny dipping in a lake and gets got by a tentacle monster. Expect heavy noncon and impregnation

Episode 22: The Ritual, Part 1 - Another request! Fem!Reader is a barmaid with a slightly unconventional selling point. Lots of CNC, enthusiastic consent and multiple men on one woman

Episode 23: The Ritual, Part 2 - Fem!Reader winds up having a bad time at the hands of a cult

Episode 24: The Ritual, part 3 - The conclusion of this 3-parter. Fem!Reader finds out more about her new husband, and enjoys the wedding night

Episode 25: Suddenly Sci-fi - Fem!Reader gets abducted by aliens and probed. Expect drugging, overstim, and the end of human civilization as you know it!

Episode 26: Disciplinary Action - Fem!Reader tries to escape her alien overlord, winds up dispensing refreshments at his upcoming party

Episode 27: The Wounded Beast - Another fantasy! Forest ranger fem!reader is tracking a poacher, winds up meeting a minotaur and has some fun

Episode 28: Mountain Oni - Masc!Reader takes shelter from inclement weather on a mountain hike, gets femdom'ed by a beautiful Oni

Episode 29: Farm Work Part 2 - We return to the hucow farm to follow up on Fem!Reader during the last few weeks of her pregnancy with her monster child. This one actually turned out less dark than expected, which is a nice change

Episode 30: The Hash Slinging Slasher - Fem!Reader doesn't think she fits the MO of the local masked serial killer, turns out she does, and he's got a thing for plump women with great tits

Episode 31: Bug Buzz - Fem!Reader is doing cartography when she gets jumped, stung, and filled with eggs

Episode 32: Homecoming - Fem!Reader's Naga girlfriend is coming back from a business trip, expect fluffy wlw fucking with remarkably few CWs

Episode 33: The Book - Fem!Reader finds a book of summoning magic and decides to get an incubus encounter out of it, this one might get picked up again later

Episode 34: Free Range - A broken down car leads to Fem!Reader getting kidnapped and taken to a free-range hucow farm. Think episode 9 but less awful

Episode 35: Interdiction - Space Explorer FtM!Reader gets got by new life and filled with eggs in a slightly horrifying scene. It's fun, and the closest thing to fanfic I've written so far

Episode 36: Hunter, Hunted - Fem!Reader is hunting a beast terrorising a village, gets hunted in return and mercilessly bred, with some turnabout at the end

Episode 37: Coulrophilia - Fem!Reader doesn't like clowns, then meets a few she winds up really liking. Expect a nice and fluffy clown gangbang

Episode 38: Date Night - Another quick standalone, Fem!Reader gets home from work and has enthusiastic kitchen-table sex with her werewolf husband. Enjoy!

Episode 39: Haunting - Fem!Reader gets the attention of an unpleasant ghost, and duped into releasing its pals

Episode 40: Sanguinare Vampiris - Fem!Reader's vampire boyfriend comes over for dinner and a movie. It's either sorta fluffy or really horrifying depending on how familiar you are with 90's Vampire TTPRGs

Episode 41: Dances with snakes - Fem!Reader is doing an anthropology on an alien world, herself having been made into a snake-hybrid to better survive, ends up in a closer encounter than anticipated. It goes a bit Dune, a bit Foundation, very long

Episode 42: Orc Daddy - Fem!Reader is the only human in the orc village, and her adoptive father has a suitor in mind for her. expect enthusiastic consent, size difference, arranged marriage, and breeding

Episode 43: Getting into the nose - Probably not my best work, Fem!Reader discovers her husband is a part-time clown and gets drawn into the hobby for an afternoon

Episode 44: 'Neath a Pale Moon - Fem!Reader sneaks out of her village to meet her werewolf lover, winds up being able to spend a lot more time with him

Episode 45: Resistance - Fem!Reader is part of a resistance cell fighting the Chitinid forces, a failed act of defiance goes very, very badly for her

Episode 46: Another day in the fields - Following on from episode 34, Fem!Reader has had her child, and is going to get her minotaur lover/owner to giver her another one

Episode 47: One Year Later - It's Fem! Reader's anniversary with Oreg! They fuck! It's good! Enjoy!

Episode 48: Medical Attention - Funtime's over but Professor Blaidd is still stuck in Fem!Reader. Good thing you're both friends with a werewolf doctor who does house calls

Episode 49: Medical Science - Roswell-style aliens abduct and experiment on Fem!Reader using transformation serums. If you like rapid growth, you'll like this one

Episode 50: Hot as Hell - Masc!Reader is having a movie night with some demon friends, one is late, the other goes into rut, he helps out

Episode 51: Daring Escape - Fem!Reader has to escape a fantasy city without being spotted. Help arrives in the form of a centaur and, tied to his belly, the escape is launched. Dubcon cumulation fun abound

Episode 52: Doll - Fem!Reader offends a faerie and gets turned into a clockwork fucktoy. She later gets found, and claimed (a bit shorter tonight, sleep cycle is so out of whack)

Episode 53: Hornyposting - Fem!Reader gets a pair of portal panties off the internet and posts her friend code to a public forum. Then she wears them to a café and really irritates a barista by getting publicly knotted

Episode 54: The In-Laws - Fem!Reader is out of options and needs to stay with her in-laws to keep a roof over her daughter's head. It turns out to be a mixed blessing. CWs for vampires, and I'm not kidding at all when I say gallons of blood

Episode 55: Young Lovers - It's A-level results day and Fem!Reader has done well. She spends the day with her doting werewolf boyfriend and they get up to some fun

Episode 56: Demonic Awakening - Fem!Reader tries to summon a succubus to break her dry spell. It doesn't work, and she gets more than she bargained for

Episode 57: Ranch Hand - Fem!Reader didn't get a job as a hucow, and almost gave up on her ambition to become a professional whore for the three minotaur brothers who run the ranch until a mysterious text message gives her hope (I'm real proud of this one)

Episode 58: Pack Tactics - The world ended several years ago. Fem!Reader has been running with wolves since then. A juvenile takes an interest in her, and one thing leads to another

[dragon-ascent]

Hi! First of all I'd like to thank you for your scenarios with our beloved Li, it's really comforting to read your stories, so please keep doing it! ❤️

Also, I was thinking about having a swim in a lake with dragon-form zhongli. Maybe he starts off a little mischievous and playful, trying to splash you/play sharks with his beloved, but then maybe he starts reeeeally teasing them and making them flustered while in his human form. How do you think he would behave?

Thank you again! You're amazing!!

I've let this one stew for like a year, so sorry for the wait! And thank you! ♡

It's a lovely day, so what's better than spending it by swimming in the lake with your husband? Swimming with him in his dragon form, of course! There's nobody around, so Zhongli is more than welcome to relax in all his adeptal glory, gliding around in the water with his beloved.

His smooth glides turn erratic soon enough - having quickly had enough of the tranquility, he splashes you, his body mass turning the splashes into straight-up miniature tsunamis for you. You erupt in a fit of giggles, desperately trying to avoid your husband's torrential onslaught.

"You're going to make me sopping wet!" you squeal, swimming away as fast as you can.

"You are already wet, darling," rumbles your dragon husband in hot pursuit. "I am simply hastening the process." He reaches a claw out and gently pulls you to him, licking you with all his usual affection he's inclined towards when he's like this.

"Eek!" Squirming out of his grip, you swim off. "Come catch me again!" you squeal, and your darling doesn't need to be told twice.

He submerges his great head underwater until only his golden eyes are visible on the surface, slithering dangerously to you like a water serpent. There's nowhere to run or hide, and your legs are starting to tire out from all the kicking, so you submit to your fate a little too fast this time. Zhongli gleefully rises from the water and gently clamps his jaw on your shoulder.

"No fair," you whine, wriggling in vain, "you're only able to catch me because you're big."

"Very well." Zhongli morphs back into his human form with ease, the same amber gaze holding your own. "I shall tip the scales to make things fairer."

Now somewhat satisfied, you once again take off in the water, swimming as fast as you can. Your movements are sluggish from exhaustion, however, but surely your husband feels the same?

Much to your chagrin, though, it seems like Zhongli's change of form hinders absolutely nothing for him: he's hot on your tail, gaining on you with every expert stroke only a god can manage...and before you can raise the white flag of surrender, he hooks an arm under your thigh and pulls you toward himself.

"Caught you, pretty one," he whispers into your ear, his other arm wrapping around your bare waist, fingers splayed in an almost possessive fashion. "Even after the scales have been tipped." His lips ghost over the shell of your ear, sending shivers down your spine. Zhongli notices this and, smiling, asks, "Shall I warm you up? You appear to be feeling rather cold, dearest."

"I - I'm good, thanks..." you murmur, heating up, gasping softly when he kisses your collarbone.

"All right." He lets you go, and you find yourself missing the contact immediately after it.

You wait until you feel like top form again, watching as Zhongli languidly floats along on the water. "One more time," you tell him, "try and catch me now before I reach the other side."

Kicking off from the bank, you rocket along in the water, arms and legs working in tandem to prove you can outswim your lover. But the lake doesn't stretch on forever, and before you can reach the other side, you chance a glance behind you.

There's nothing there. You stop, your brow furrowing. There's no sign of him. You peek underwater, too, and still nothing, just the blurry scene of aquatic plant-life.

"Zhongli?" you call when you resurface, wondering if he's already gotten out of the water. Aww, man...hopefully he saw how fast and cool you were before he-

A pair of arms lays claim on your hips, slowly spinning you around to face Zhongli whose smile crinkles his eyes, an innocent expression compared to the way his hands explore your skin.

"Oh...oh my..." you breathe, hooking your legs around his waist as his hand finds purchase in your hair, tugging it slightly so he can access your neck. "Was I...was I at least a fast swimmer..?"

He trails gentle kisses along your skin, rendered shiny and glistening thanks to the water. "Quite fast, yes. I was impressed." You moan softly at his tender touches, wrapping your arms around him. His tail is still out--did he ever even put it away?--and he coils it around your thigh, the little tuft of softness at the end caressing your leg sensually.

Toying with the elastic of your swimwear, he smiles into your skin. "Come now, dear, I would like to claim my prize."

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

I think this is where we ask for requests? but if it is shanks x reader fanfic ( fluffy pls! and SFW! ) if ur not uncomfortable with it!��

Hiii @iloveyoushanks Thank you so much for your ask (and for all your support on my stories! ❤️ I appreciate it very much!)

This was my first time writting for Shanks (excluding his appearance in the meet-cute series, but he's just a dad there, not a daddy 😏) so I hopeeeeee you like this! Totally SFW! Also, you didn't specify gender, so I kept it gender neutral, hope it's okay! Let me know if you liked it! 🙏 Thank you!

Source for pic

Chasing Constellations

Word Count: 2490

Tags: SFW; gn! x Shanks; Fluff; Comfort; Camaraderie; Acting on crushes;

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: You are done dating boys, you want men. Your Captain claims to be man enough for you. But is he? And are you about to find out?

Notes: Be sure to check out my 100 followers event, as I will close requests on Sunday! Full disclosure, answers to requests may take a while! Thank you for reading this! I do hope you enjoyed it!❤️

Tag List: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn

Masterlist

“Want to come home with me?”

“Sorry, not today.” You answered with a warm, apologetic smile. 

The man who had been leaning at the counter next to you, all smiles and smooth words, cursed loudly as he turned away, slamming his glass on the wooden counter along with a few coins.

The barmaid sighed as she collected them. “Shame, he was sweet and easy on the eyes. Why didn’t you say yes?”

“I don’t know why, really. I guess I am done with boys. They don’t have the emotional maturity of a man.” You said with a scoff.

“Honey, when you’re dating pirates you can’t help but deal with boys. The only maturity they achieve is in size, not in behaviour.” The barmaid let out a hearty laugh while she poured another drink into your empty glass. “If you ask me, you’re much better off just hooking up randomly. Take ‘em, leave ‘em and be done with it!”

You laughed alongside her, her contagious laugh infecting you and your tipsy state allowing you to behave more freely than you normally would.

“That’s some sound advice there.” Shanks, your captain, clinked his glass with yours before downing it in one gulp. “Or just follow mine: date a real man!” He grinned, his smile creasing the corners of his eyes and forming a charming dimple on the right side of his cheek. 

The barmaid left you two alone as she tended to other patrons and you eyed your captain from top to bottom, humming in what seemed like an appreciative manner, leaving him to puff his chest at you like a bird attempting to mate. “A real man, you say?” He nodded and winked. “Well, when you find one, send him my way, please.”

Beckman, who was next to Shanks, snorted his drink through his nose as he banged his fists against the wooden counter in pure mirth. Shanks’s grin turned into a pout, his hand against his chest in mock hurt. “Ouch.”

“Yeah, you’ll get over it, aren’t you a real man?” And with that, you let a few coins drop onto the counter and turned to return to the ship. Your captain was funny, handsome, strong, intimidating and he could be very protective of you, even if you rarely needed him to help you. You got along great and had both been spending more and more time together, lately, but, even if you harboured the hardest of crushes on him, you would never consider dating him.

He was too much of a flirt, too much of a manwhore, too much of a player…

He was too much. 

Period.

Besides, he would never really be interested in you, right? 

-*-

Tossing and turning in bed, sleep kept eluding you. The cabin was too damn stuffy and your crewmates’ snoring - though normally nothing that bothered you - were driving you insane. If only they could all snore at the same rhythm instead of this dissonant cacophony! 

Huffing, you threw the sheets back and slid on some slippers on your bare feet, grabbing a light blanket to drape over your shoulders because the night and the sea breeze could be unforgiving. 

You found a cosy - secluded - spot by the deck, and sat down, leaning against the balustrade to gaze at the stars. They looked especially bright tonight and the sky was clear of clouds, leaving you with a beautiful painting-like picture to admire. 

Just as you were starting to relax, a deep sigh escaping your lips, you heard a roguish voice near you. “Couldn’t sleep? Or are you searching for your perfect man among the stars?”

You immediately smiled at his words as your eyes met his. A mischievous smirk painted his lips as he pointed up. “How about Orion? A legendary hunter, strong, skilled, muscular?”

You scoffed, your fingers entwining as you hugged your knees and Shanks sat beside you, still looking up. “Orion? The stalker?”

Shanks chuckled, making himself comfortable near you and you didn’t miss the way his leg brushed against yours. “You know your myths?”

“Please! I know myths and constellations! Orion pursued the Pleiades sisters who, in exasperation and desire to escape his endless pursuit, sought the help of Zeus, who placed them in the sky as stars so they could be free.” Shaking your head, you huffed in annoyance. “I don’t know what’s worse, running from someone who can’t take ‘no’ for an answer, or having it be written into a love story by someone who clearly doesn’t understand the concept of boundaries and personal space.”

“Message received!” Shanks chuckled as he scooted his leg away from you and you bit your lip. That’s not what you meant, his touch was quite welcome. If you ignored the fact that this was how he flirted with everyone!

Sensing the slight change in atmosphere, you decided to lighten the mood. 

“Besides, Orion is clearly fictional. If I'm trying to find a man, I need him to be real. Let's see, he was a giant, handsome, with great strength and hunting skills.” You cheekily stared at Shanks, your legs falling to the side in an effort to close the distance he had created when you spoke about personal space. 

Visibly relaxing with the return of your touch, Shanks winked, raising his hand and counting on his fingers. “Giant?” His laugh was cocky and filled with innuendo. “Check! Handsome and strong? Check and check again! Hunting skills? Baby, I'll hunt you down blindfolded in a forest. Try me.”

The huskiness of his voice caught you by surprise, holding your breath prisoner in your throat for a split-second before you both burst into laughter. 

“Well, he was also arrogant, boastful and prideful so that's another three checks for you, Captain.” You nudged him playfully with your leg and he laughed, holding his hand in the air. 

“Aye, aye, guilty as charged.” A moment passed as he scratched his chin, eyes fixed on the sky. “How about that one?” He pointed at another constellation, clearly challenging your previous claim of knowing your way around the stars. 

“Hercules?” He nodded. “Another strong handsome man?”

“I think you might have a type.” He laughed, letting his arm fall on the balustrade behind your head. The heat from his body made you aware of his proximity. “He was brave-...”

“Reckless!”

“He held a strong sense of justice and duty.” 

“Impulsive, short-tempered with anger issues…”

“A hero!” He finished proudly. 

“An idiot.” You replied with a smirk. “They might have been branded as heroes, but they were still boys, flawed, full of themselves, with almost no regard for others, let alone for a loved one.” Sighing you fixed your eyes back on the sky. “Not even heroes and myths are perfect men, Captain. This is an impossible task.”

This all started out as a joke. A simple answer to a question a barmaid - you'd most likely never see again - asked you. And now it has turned into a real dilemma. You were sick and tired of being toyed with. You did want a real relationship, but none of the men - boys! - you'd dated had been ready to commit. 

Shanks was older than you, supposedly wiser and more mature. But he was not boyfriend material, even if he was the perfect man. So he needed to stop this useless flirting if he wasn't going to follow through because your heart wouldn't take it. 

“Well, you've left out a perfect specimen.” He pointed up and you followed, a frown on your features, already regretting having indulged your captain in this banter. 

“Perseus?”

“Yes.” He answered, pride evident in his features for your correct answer. At least you managed to impress him with your knowledge of the stars. “He had no faults. Come on, I dare you to say something bad about him.”

You pondered, your chest rising and falling with a deep inhale, but Shanks didn’t let you speak. 

“He was brave, loyal, honourable, ingenious and resourceful! Plus, he saved his beloved from being eaten alive by a sea beast!” Shanks looked you straight in the eyes and moved his stump, trying to make you laugh again. “Luffy was not my beloved in that sense, but he was still a loved one. I'd say I check all the boxes!”

That did make you laugh, and the two of you shared a fit of giggles, lightening the mood. You could always count on your captain to make you laugh. As you both regained your composure, Shanks let the arm that was on the balustrade fall and land onto your shoulders, pulling you closer to his body, muttering that the night was quite cold and he didn’t want you to catch a chill.  

You didn't object, your head fell against his chest as you tried to blame the unexpected gesture on your slight tipsiness - though by now you were more than sober. 

“There's one fault I can think of about Perseus.” You whispered as a sigh escaped your lips when you realised how well your head fit against him. 

“Really?” Shanks sounded doubtful. His fingers dug into your arm, pulling you even closer, as if there couldn't be any gap between your bodies. 

“Perseus was described as youthful. Some legends say he was around fifteen when he slew Medusa. Others say that he was in his early twenties. A boy. Not a man.” Lifting your face slightly, you let your eyes meet his, a slight sadness pressed into them. “Forget it, Cap. I’m fine on my own. Even if they were perfect,” you pointed your finger at the sky, “they would still be out of reach.”

Shanks’ goofy grin, one he had been sporting since he began speaking to you, fell off his lips as his gaze locked onto yours, his pupils darkening and something else hidden, glimmering and pulling you in like a magnet. 

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m right here, then.” The hand on your shoulders travelled to your nape, fingers slipping under your hair, heat permeating your entire being. “And an even better one, I’m definitely not a boy.”

His eyes never left yours as he slowly leaned down. Your heart pounded incessantly against your chest and every fibre of your being told you to pull away, to flee, to run. This was Shanks! Your Captain! The eternal flirt!

“You’re not a boy, you’re right here… but you’re also a manwhore, Captain.” The soft chuckle that left his lips ghosted over yours, leaving a promise of what could be, if only you let it happen. 

“You know, some things are just myths… I bet Orion wasn't even a giant at all! Perseus courageously defeating a sea beast? I guarantee he was scared shitless! Me being a manwhore - as you so eloquently put it.” His lips brushed yours ever so slightly, an invitation, the opening of a door, leaving you to decide if you wanted to enter or not. “Most definitely a myth.”

“But you are as unattainable as one.” All you had to do was lean in. Just a little adjustment of your mouth. He was right there. 

“Not for you.” Somehow, his words rang true. You hadn't seen him bring anyone to his cabin in ages. Granted, he could still be seeing someone outside of the ship and then returning, but if you thought hard enough, he had barely been flirting with anyone. 

Except you. 

Breathing was hard. He was right there. Thinking was harder. His scent was intoxicating. Hearing was impossible. Your heartbeat pounded so loudly that there was nothing else to hear. 

“You’ll just break my heart.” You couldn’t find the strength to pull away, even though your words might say otherwise. 

“Try me.” It almost sounded like a plea, but it couldn’t be, because Captain Shanks didn’t beg. His fingers pressed into your hair, as if grounding himself and staving off the urge to pull you against his lips. “Please.”

Oh… 

Apparently he did beg after all. 

Shoving all doubts, insecurities and fears down to the pit of your stomach, you pressed your lips against his. Just a taste. A small peck. You were going to pull back, you really were, but Shanks’ hand spread across your nape as he pulled you against him with the hunger of a starving man. 

He tasted slightly of sake, the alcohol lingering on his tongue, making it slightly bitter. But mostly… he mostly tasted of excitement and adventure, of a blissful future and sweet moments. 

Suddenly, the stars were no longer in the sky, they were shining within your closed eyelids, supernovas exploding inside your chest, your head swirling at the speed of light. 

It was… 

“Perfect…” You muttered against his lips as he pulled back a little to let you breathe. Your foreheads pressed together, his hand moving to caress and cup your cheek. Why had you doubted this? 

Why had you doubted him? 

“Gods, I've been craving that kiss forever.” There was still hunger in his voice, but something else, something far sweeter. 

“What do you mean?” Your hands reached in as you pressed your fingers tentatively against his chest, pondering whether you should pull him closer, considering the implications of a second kiss. 

“I thought you were the unattainable myth. Not the other way around. You never gave two shits about me.” He made that familiar whine that told you he was playfully hurt. 

Your chuckle caught you by surprise, so much so that you let your head fall forward, nuzzling the crook of his neck and breathing in the tanginess of his skin, sea salt and sweat mingling into a dizzying aroma. 

“Maybe you should've asked sooner.” You spoke into his skin, holding back the urge to press your lips against it and test how soft it was. 

“Asked what?”

“What that guy asked me at the bar.”

“Oh…” You felt as he took a deep inhale against your head, his hand now placing soft circles against your back. “About wanting to come home with me?”

You hum softly. 

“Aye, aye.” He chuckled as his fingers travelled up to your chin to tilt it, allowing him to stare into your eyes. “So, do you?”

You weren’t about to make this easy on him. “Do I what?”

“Want to come home with me?” He kissed you between words, his lips pressing against your flushing cheekbones, then your closed eyelids, and finally your nose. A softness to his touch you didn't know he possessed. 

The warmth filling your cheeks could have answered for you, but you still nodded, arms circling around his neck, pulling him down toward you, lips merely a breath away. 

“Is that a yes?” He didn’t hide the giddiness in his voice, the slight joviality that your wordless agreement brought. The boyish grin on his face. 

And you didn’t reprimand him for that. Because for all the youthful attitudes your captain had, he truly was a real man.

And one you wanted to date.

[muiitoloko]

hey weird request but will you write a story about Frank and his reader wife, hes older than her, and when she starts asking for a baby he turns her down and she withdraws from him gradually, so one morning when she gets up earlier than him and goes and makes breakfast he borrows her vibrator to get off and she catches him while hes cumming, please eventually give the girl a baby though SO SMUTTY i am sorry, but please i am craving some high level dominant watch from the corner vibes

Title: Generals and Generations.

Summary: Haunted by his age and past, Frank Benson resists his wife's dream of having a baby, but their undeniable chemistry and love force him to reconsider.

Pairing: Frank Benson × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Smut

Author's Notes: Thanks for your request; I hope you enjoy it!

Also read on Ao3

Frank kissed your shoulder as he leaned into you, his thick cock driving deep with every slow, deliberate thrust. His body was heavy against yours, his chest pressing into your back as he moved, savoring the way you melted beneath him. His hooked nose brushed against your ear, his breath hot and uneven as he growled, “Christ, love. You feel bloody perfect—so tight, so warm. Like you were made to take me.”

You moaned, arching into him, your fingers curling into the sheets as he thrust harder, his chubby fingers gripping your hips like he owned you. And in this moment, he did.

But even as pleasure consumed you, your mind drifted to something else—something you’d been wanting, asking for, begging for. Between moans, you gasped, “Frank… I want a baby.”

His movements faltered for a split second, barely noticeable, but you caught it. Then, with a deep sigh, he resumed his pace, his thumbs pressing into the small hollow of your lower back. “Not this again,” he muttered, his baritone voice tinged with irritation.

You whined in disappointment, pushing back against him, trying to distract him with your body, hoping that maybe, this time, he’d change his mind. “You gave two children to your ex-wife,” you argued breathlessly, “why won’t you give me one?”

Frank grunted, his grip tightening as he thrust deeper, his dominance unshaken. “Because, love,” he growled, his voice firm, commanding, “I’m too bloody old to be raising another child. By the time they turn ten, I’ll be in a damn nursing home.”

You whimpered, but Frank didn’t stop—didn’t soften. If anything, his frustration fueled him, making him rougher, more relentless. He grabbed your wrists and pinned them against the mattress, his full weight pressing down on you as he drove into you with purpose. “You think a baby will change things?” he growled, his hooked nose nuzzling against the back of your neck. “You think I don’t already own you?”

“I—” Your words dissolved into a moan as he angled his thrusts deeper, his cock hitting that perfect spot inside you that made your vision blur.

“I give you everything, don’t I?” he pressed, his voice dropping into that dangerous, authoritative tone that sent shivers down your spine. “This body. This pleasure. You belong to me, love. And I don’t need a child to prove that.”

You moaned helplessly, lost in the sensation of him claiming you, dominating you completely. But still, you wanted more. “I want a part of you,” you whispered, your voice breaking as he pounded into you. “Something that’s ours.”

Frank let out a dark chuckle, his breath heavy against your skin. “You want something that’s ours?” he murmured, his fingers sliding down to rub your clit, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. “You already have it, love. You have me. My cock, my name, my bloody soul.”

His pace quickened, his thrusts punishing now, each stroke a reminder of who was in control. “You want me to put a baby in you?” he taunted, his voice dripping with dominance. “Want me to fuck you so full of my cum that you’ll be carrying my brat in the morning?”

“Yes,” you gasped, your nails digging into the sheets. “Please, Frank. Give me a baby.”

Frank groaned, his movements faltering for just a moment before he composed himself, shaking his head. “Not happening,” he growled, his baritone voice rough with finality. “But that won’t stop me from filling you up, love.”

You let out a helpless cry as he slammed into you, his cock thick and unrelenting, stretching you to the brink of madness. He was ruthless now, determined to remind you who was in charge, who owned you.

“God, you’re so needy,” he rasped, his lips brushing against your ear as his thrusts grew erratic. “So desperate for me, aren’t you? But I decide what you get, love. And right now, all you’re getting is my cum. Nothing else.”

Your body tensed, your release tearing through you in an overwhelming wave as Frank groaned, his grip bruising as he followed, spilling into you with a deep, guttural growl. His weight pressed into you as he caught his breath, his white hair damp with sweat.

For a moment, there was silence, save for the sound of your ragged breathing. Then, Frank kissed your shoulder again, softer this time, his fingers stroking your waist. “No children,” he murmured, his voice firm but not unkind. “But you have me. Always.”

You sighed, knowing this wasn’t the end of the conversation. But for now, as Frank’s arms wrapped around you, his cock still buried deep inside you, you let it go. You had him—and that was enough.

For now.

The morning sunlight filtered through the kitchen window, casting long shadows over the breakfast table where you and Frank sat in thick silence. Your plate was still untouched, the toast growing cold beside your half-drunk cup of tea. Across from you, Frank methodically cut into his eggs, his movements precise but tight, his white hair slightly disheveled from the morning shower. His hazel eyes were locked onto his plate, but the tension in his jaw betrayed his irritation.

You sighed, arms crossed, before finally speaking. "You haven’t given me an answer, Frank."

Frank’s knife halted mid-cut, his grip tightening around the handle before he exhaled slowly, setting it down with deliberate control. He finally met your gaze, his hooked nose twitching slightly as his hazel eyes darkened with frustration. "I have given you an answer," he said, his baritone voice firm. "Several times, in fact."

You scoffed, pushing your plate aside as you leaned forward. "No, you’ve given me an excuse," you countered, your voice sharper than you intended. "You keep saying you’re too old, that you’ve done this before, but what about me? What about what I want, Frank?"

Frank clenched his jaw, exhaling sharply through his nose. "What you want," he repeated, his voice lower now, measured but no less commanding. "And what about what I want, hmm? You think I haven't thought about this? That I don’t consider your feelings?"

You stood up, your chair scraping against the floor. "No, Frank, I think you’ve made up your mind and expect me to just accept it."

Frank inhaled deeply, rubbing a hand over his face before pushing back his chair abruptly. The sudden movement startled you, but you held your ground, watching as he grabbed his military jacket from the back of his chair, shaking it out before slipping it on. The stiff fabric fell over his broad shoulders, and he began buttoning it with quick, efficient movements, his authority still intact even in the middle of an argument.

"I don’t like leaving for work when we’re fighting," he muttered, his fingers fastening the buttons with practiced precision. "But you’re determined to push this conversation to its breaking point."

You crossed your arms, your lips pressing into a thin line. "You’re determined to ignore what I want."

Frank scoffed, his hooked nose flaring slightly as he adjusted his collar. "Bloody hell, woman," he growled, his baritone voice edged with irritation. "You think this is easy for me? You think I don’t lie awake at night wondering if I’m being selfish, if I’m making the right decision?"

You took a step closer, refusing to let him dismiss you. "Then why won’t you reconsider?" you demanded. "Frank, you gave your ex-wife two children. Why is it so impossible to give me just one?"

Frank stopped buttoning his jacket, his hazel eyes locking onto yours with a sharp intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. "Because I refuse to do it half-heartedly," he said, his voice quieter now, but no less firm. "And I know myself, love. I know my limits. I have spent my life commanding men, making decisions that weigh on me every damn day. I don’t have the energy to raise another child."

You swallowed, your chest tightening at the finality in his tone. "Then what does that mean for us?" you whispered, your voice trembling.

Frank sighed, running a hand through his white hair before gripping the back of his chair tightly. "It means I love you, but I won’t be bullied into this," he said, his voice firm but not unkind. "And if you can’t accept that, then maybe we need to have a much harder conversation."

Your breath hitched, and for the first time in this argument, fear crept into your heart. You had pushed him, but you never thought he’d suggest—no, he wouldn’t. Frank wasn’t the kind of man to walk away. Was he?

Frank watched the flicker of uncertainty cross your face, his hazel eyes softening for a moment before he sighed again, rubbing his forehead. "I don’t want to fight with you," he muttered, his voice rough with frustration and exhaustion. "I don’t want to go to work with this hanging over my head."

"Then don’t go," you blurted before you could stop yourself.

Frank let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. "You know I don’t have that luxury," he murmured, fastening the last button of his jacket before grabbing his cap. He hesitated for a moment, his expression unreadable, before stepping toward you.

His large, chubby hands cupped your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheekbones as he studied you. His hazel eyes, usually so controlled, held something else now—something troubled, conflicted.

"You are my entire bloody world," he murmured, his baritone voice lower now, softer. "But if this becomes the thing that drives a wedge between us, I don’t know if I can—" He cut himself off, inhaling deeply before shaking his head. "I just don’t know."

Your chest tightened, and you reached up, gripping his wrists as you stared up at him. "I love you, Frank," you whispered. "But this matters to me."

Frank exhaled, pressing a firm kiss to your forehead before pulling back, his hands dropping away. "I know," he muttered, stepping toward the door. "And that’s what scares me."

And with that, he turned and walked out, leaving his half-eaten breakfast on the table and a heavy silence in his wake.

Frank leaned back in his chair, the dim glow of the television illuminating his features in the darkened living room. His hazel eyes were fixed on the screen, but his focus wavered. The football match played on, the commentators’ voices droning in the background, yet his mind was elsewhere.

His grip tightened around the bottle of beer in his hand as he took another slow sip, the cool liquid doing little to ease the frustration coiling in his chest. You had been distant ever since that morning—the morning he had put his foot down. No children. No discussion. That was supposed to be the end of it.

And yet, it wasn’t.

You still went about your days, still smiled and spoke to him, but something had changed. The way you no longer curled up on his lap while he watched the game. The way you no longer idly played with the hem of his shirt when you got bored. The way you no longer clung to him when you fell asleep, like you always did before. It was subtle, but Frank noticed. He noticed everything.

He sighed heavily, rolling the cold glass bottle against his forehead in an attempt to cool his thoughts. This is ridiculous, Benson. You’re a goddamn Lieutenant General. You don’t question your decisions. You make a call and stick with it.

And yet, the image in his mind wouldn’t leave.

You, round and full, your belly stretched with his child. Your body softer, your breasts swollen with milk, preparing to nourish the life you both created. The thought was disturbingly enticing, so much so that he had to force himself to shake it off.

Frank scowled, his military discipline battling against the temptation. He knew the reality of pregnancy—the exhaustion, the swollen feet, the mood swings. He had dealt with it before. He had held his ex-wife’s hair back when she vomited in the mornings, listened to her cry over things that made no damn sense, driven out in the middle of the night to get whatever ridiculous food she suddenly craved. It was chaos. Unpredictable. And Frank despised anything that disrupted order.

But then… there was the other side of it.

The first flutter of tiny kicks against a palm pressed to soft skin. The warmth of a newborn curled against his chest, fragile and helpless but utterly his. The way a child would reach for him instinctively, knowing he was their protector, their safe place. He could still remember the weight of his son in his arms for the first time, the small fingers curling around his own.

Christ.

Frank took another sip of beer, his jaw tightening as he forced himself to think of the negatives. The sleepless nights. The crying. The endless responsibility. He had done his time as a father. He had raised two children already. He wasn’t about to start over again when he was this old.

And yet…

His hazel eyes flickered toward the hallway, where he knew you were, likely in bed, probably curled up alone, thinking about the same damn thing.

Frank exhaled sharply, setting his beer down with a dull thunk. This silence between you had gone on long enough. He was not a man who tolerated insubordination, not in the field, and certainly not in his own home. You had challenged his authority, and while he had made his decision, he hated the distance it had created.

His patience had run out.

Pushing himself up from the chair, he ran a hand through his white hair before striding toward the bedroom, his steps slow and deliberate. His presence was commanding, even in the quiet of the house. When he reached the door, he didn’t knock. He never knocked. Instead, he pushed it open, his broad frame filling the doorway as he looked at you.

You were curled up under the blankets, your back to him. Stubborn.

Frank narrowed his eyes. Enough of this.

Without a word, he walked over to the bed and sat down beside you. The mattress dipped under his weight, but you didn’t move, refusing to acknowledge him. That irritated him more than it should have.

His hand found your hip, his grip firm, possessive. “Are we going to talk about this?” His baritone voice was low, controlled, but there was an edge to it—a warning.

You remained silent for a moment before finally exhaling, your voice barely above a whisper. “There’s nothing to talk about. You made your decision.”

Frank clenched his jaw. He hated that tone. Hated that you sounded defeated. He was used to you pushing back, fighting for what you wanted, not shutting down like this.

He leaned down, his hooked nose brushing against your shoulder as he spoke again, his voice dropping into that dangerously soft register. “That’s not how this works, love. You don’t get to shut me out.”

You swallowed, but still, you didn’t turn to face him.

Frank sighed, his fingers tightening slightly on your hip. “Look at me.” It wasn’t a request.

Slowly, you rolled onto your back, finally meeting his gaze. Your eyes were sad, filled with unspoken words that twisted something inside him.

Frank studied you for a long moment before he exhaled deeply. “You think I don’t want this?” he muttered, more to himself than to you. He shook his head. “Bloody hell, woman. You have no idea how much I’ve thought about it.”

Your eyes widened slightly, and for the first time in days, he saw a flicker of hope there. “Then why won’t you—”

“Because I know what it takes.” His voice was firm, unwavering. “And I don’t know if I have it in me to do it again.”

Silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating.

Frank sighed, watching as you softly nodded and turned away from him. He didn’t push you any further. There was nothing left to say tonight. Instead, he exhaled deeply, running a hand through his white hair before pulling back the blankets and sliding in beside you. His body was warm, his presence familiar, but there was a new distance between you���one he wasn’t sure how to bridge.

For a long time, he lay there in silence, staring at the ceiling, listening to the slow rhythm of your breathing. Eventually, sleep took him too.

Frank woke up to the soft sounds of movement downstairs. You were already up. The faint clinking of dishes and the low hum of the kettle told him you were making breakfast. He considered getting up immediately, but the warmth of the bed, the quiet solitude of the early morning, tempted him to linger a little longer.

He shifted under the blankets, stretching slightly—and then he felt it.

His cock was hard. That wasn’t unusual. It happened every damn morning. But what was unusual was the way his body reacted when he thought about you. About the way you’d been avoiding him. About how long it had been since he had touched you.

Frank let out a slow breath, his large hand sliding down to palm himself through his underwear. He squeezed, just for a moment, testing his own sensitivity. Christ. He was aching. He gritted his teeth, fighting the familiar urge to take care of it himself.

He wasn’t the kind of man who begged.

But fuck, it had been too long.

Shaking off the thought, he sighed and pulled his hand away. He wasn’t a desperate teenager. He had control. Always had.

Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, he sat up, rubbing a hand over his face. His white hair was slightly disheveled, his hazel eyes still clouded with sleep. He reached for the drawer beside him, pulling it open in search of a fresh pair of boxers—

And then his hand froze.

Tucked in the back of the drawer, almost hidden beneath a few of your belongings, was something small, discreet… unmistakable.

Your vibrator.

Frank picked it up, turning it over in his fingers, his jaw tightening as something dark and possessive stirred in his gut.

So this was what you’d been doing when he wasn’t around.

A muscle in his jaw twitched. He could picture it too easily. You, alone in bed, your legs spread wide, this little thing buzzing between your thighs, trying to give yourself the pleasure he used to give you.

The image sent a sharp pulse of heat straight to his cock.

Frank exhaled through his nose, rolling the toy between his fingers. His voice, low and gruff in the quiet of the morning, escaped him before he even realized he was speaking aloud.

"That what you’ve been using, love?"

He smirked slightly, despite himself. His baritone voice took on a darker, teasing edge. "Lying here, thinking about me, pressing this between those pretty thighs, hoping it’ll do the job?"

Frank turned the toy on, the soft hum filling the quiet bedroom. He watched it vibrate in his palm, his hazel eyes dark with curiosity. He had never really paid attention to the damn thing before, but now, holding it like this, picturing how you used it—how you spread yourself open, how you must have bitten your lip, muffling your moans as you played with it—made something hot and possessive coil in his gut.

His cock twitched, aching against the fabric of his underwear. Fuck. He was already hard as a rock, and now this?

Frank cast a glance at the door, making sure you were still downstairs. The faint sounds of dishes clinking in the kitchen told him you were occupied.

Good.

His grip tightened around the toy, his breath slow and measured as he pressed the tip of it against his length through the thin fabric of his underwear.

The vibration sent a jolt of pleasure straight through him.

"Christ," Frank muttered under his breath, his baritone voice rough with surprise. His hips twitched instinctively, pushing up into the sensation. He hadn’t expected it to feel this good—not from a damn toy.

His jaw tightened as he teased himself, dragging the buzzing tip along the thick outline of his cock. His hand trembled slightly as he spread his legs wider, giving himself more room to move. The vibrations pulsed against his aching length, sending shivers up his spine.

"That what gets you off, love?" he muttered to himself, smirking darkly. "This little thing buzzing between your legs?"

He shifted, pressing the toy more firmly against the sensitive head of his cock, still trapped in his underwear. A deep, guttural groan escaped him as his hips bucked involuntarily.

"Fuck," he hissed, biting his lip. His breath came in slow, heavy pants, his broad chest rising and falling as he fought the urge to push the fabric down and wrap his fist around himself properly.

His free hand clenched the edge of the bed, his knuckles turning white. The vibrations pulsed through him, teasing him, pushing him to the brink. It was nowhere near as good as your touch, nowhere near as good as sinking into your tight, wet heat—but fuck, it was enough to get him thinking.

Thinking about how he’d find you later.

Thinking about how he’d drag you upstairs, press you down onto the mattress, and show you exactly why this little toy would never be enough.

His breath hitched, his body tense with restraint. His cock twitched against the vibration, thick and needy, so damn close—

The moment the door creaked open, Frank tensed—his breath hitched, his entire body locking up in sheer, unfiltered shock. And then, just as his hazel eyes flicked up to meet yours, his release surged through him. A deep, guttural groan tore from his throat, his baritone voice raw with pleasure as his cock pulsed, thick ropes of cum spilling into his underwear, soaking the fabric beneath the relentless hum of the vibrator still pressed against him.

His broad chest heaved, his white hair damp with sweat as he slumped back onto the mattress, utterly spent.

And you—frozen in the doorway, your eyes wide, your face flushed a deep shade of crimson—stared in stunned silence.

“Bloody hell—” you choked out, turning on your heel so fast you nearly tripped over yourself. “I—I didn’t mean to— I’ll just give you a moment—!”

Frank groaned, still catching his breath, and let out a rough, amused chuckle. “Christ, love,” he muttered, rubbing a hand over his face before dragging it down his chest. “Don’t run off now.”

Your breath hitched at the sheer command in his voice—low, exhausted, but undeniably firm.

“I—” You swallowed hard, shifting awkwardly. “I just came to wake you for breakfast.”

Frank exhaled a slow, measured breath and propped himself up onto his elbows, his hazel eyes dark with something unreadable. His lips curled into a lazy smirk, but there was an undeniable intensity in the way he watched you. Like a predator who had just been caught in a rare moment of vulnerability but wasn’t the least bit ashamed.

He gestured lazily to himself—the thick stain spreading across the front of his underwear, the still-vibrating toy discarded beside him. “Think you already gave me a proper wake-up call.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, embarrassment scorching your skin. “Frank—”

“Come here,” he interrupted, his baritone voice rough with something between amusement and impatience.

Your stomach flipped. “I—”

“Come. Here.” His tone left no room for argument.

You hesitated but obeyed, stepping hesitantly toward the bed, your gaze flickering down to the evidence of his climax. The dark stain stretched across the fabric of his underwear, and you felt heat rush between your thighs at the sheer sight of him—disheveled, undone, his large frame sprawled across the mattress like he had been wrecked by his own damn hand.

Or rather, your toy.

“Curious, are we?” Frank teased, watching the way your gaze lingered.

You scowled, but your body betrayed you. Your breath was uneven, your fingers twitching at your sides.

Frank smirked. And then, in one swift motion, he grabbed your wrist and yanked you down onto the bed with him.

A startled gasp left your lips as you landed half on top of him, your hands splayed against his bare chest. His skin was warm, slightly damp, and his heartbeat thrummed beneath your fingertips.

“You’re insufferable,” you muttered, flustered beyond belief.

“And you’re bloody adorable when you’re flustered,” Frank shot back, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

You huffed, attempting to push yourself up, but Frank’s arms tightened around you, keeping you exactly where he wanted. His hazel eyes darkened as he took in the sight of you—cheeks flushed, lips parted, your body straddling his, so close yet so frustratingly clothed.

A slow, wicked smirk curled across his lips.

“You’re gonna get the baby you want so much,” he murmured, his baritone voice dripping with certainty.

Your heart nearly stopped.

Your breath hitched, your eyes widening in shock. “Frank—”

“Shh,” he murmured, his hooked nose grazing your jaw as he tilted his head, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “I’ve thought about it. Thought about you, round and full with my child. Thought about how you’d look carrying something that belongs to both of us.”

A strangled sound left your throat, half disbelief, half arousal. “I don’t want to force you into this—”

Frank scoffed, his large hands sliding down to grip your hips, pulling you flush against the hard bulge already pressing between your thighs. “You think I don’t want to procreate you?” His voice was thick with heat, his breath hot against your skin. “You think I haven’t pictured you swollen with my child, your body soft and ripe for me?”

Your stomach flipped violently, arousal pooling deep in your belly.

Frank smirked at your stunned silence. His fingers curled under your shirt, sliding up the curve of your waist as he continued, his voice slow and deliberate, each word dripping with sinful intent.

“Think I haven’t imagined watching your belly stretch, watching your tits get heavy and full? Christ, love, the thought of you leaking for me…” He groaned, his grip tightening as he rocked his hips up, his cock straining against his underwear.

You whimpered, heat flooding your core at the sheer filth of his words.

Frank’s lips trailed down your neck, his hooked nose grazing your pulse. “You’ll be so bloody perfect like that,” he murmured. “Made for it. Made to take my cock, made to carry my child.”

Your thighs clenched around him, and Frank chuckled darkly.

“Ah,” he hummed, his fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your pajama shorts, his knuckles brushing against the wet heat between your legs. “So you like that, do you? Like the idea of me filling you up, watching you grow round and full with my seed?”

You whined, arching against him. “Frank—”

“Say it,” he ordered, his baritone voice a deep, authoritative rumble. “Tell me you want it.”

Your breathing was ragged, your body trembling against his.

“I—I want it,” you gasped, nails digging into his chest. “I want you to put a baby in me.”

Frank growled, his eyes flashing with pure, unadulterated hunger. “That’s my good girl.”

And then, without hesitation, he flipped you onto your back, his large frame pressing you into the mattress, his hazel eyes burning with intent.

“Let’s make you a mother, then.”

Frank settled between your thighs with the slow, deliberate ease of a man who knew exactly what he was doing. His strong hands gripped your legs, parting them wider as he pressed his broad chest flush against the mattress, his hooked nose brushing the inside of your thigh.

"Christ," he murmured, his baritone voice thick with reverence as he took in the sight of you. "Already so wet for me, love." He smirked, his breath warm against your slick folds. "Desperate little thing, aren’t you?"

You whimpered, hips twitching toward him, but Frank held you steady, his chubby fingers pressing into your thighs with just enough force to keep you still. He wanted to savor this—to prepare you properly, to recover from his own release before he gave you exactly what you asked for.

"Patience," he murmured, the word edged with amusement. "We've got all morning."

Then, with agonizing slowness, he dipped his head, his lips pressing a chaste kiss against your clit. You gasped, fingers curling into the sheets, but Frank wasn’t in a rush. No, this was a damn fine way to start the day, and he intended to enjoy every second of it.

His tongue flicked out, teasing, tasting, before he latched onto you properly, sucking gently. The deep groan that rumbled in his throat sent vibrations straight through you, and your thighs clenched around his head, back arching off the bed.

"Bloody hell," Frank growled against your skin, his hazel eyes dark as he looked up at you. "So damn sweet."

His chubby fingers joined the assault, spreading you open so he could feast properly. He licked a long, slow stripe up your folds, his hooked nose pressing against you, inhaling your scent like he was a man starved.

Your moan was broken, breathless, and Frank smirked against you, his fingers digging into your hips as he held you down. "That’s it, love," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your entrance before slipping his tongue inside. "Take what I give you."

Your hands flew to his white hair, fingers tangling in the strands as you tried to grind against his face, but Frank chuckled, his grip tightening. "So needy," he mused, voice muffled against your dripping heat. "You want my cock that badly, hmm? Want me to fuck you full first thing in the morning?"

"Yes," you gasped, thighs trembling. "Please, Frank—"

"Mm," he hummed, pleased, his tongue curling inside you before he pulled back just enough to flick your clit with the tip. "Not yet."

You whined in frustration, but Frank only smirked, one thick finger teasing your entrance before sinking inside, curling just right. "I need you open for me, love," he murmured, adding a second finger, stretching you just enough to have you gasping.

He licked you again, slow and thorough, his baritone voice vibrating against your core. "Gonna be a good girl and take all of me, aren’t you?"

You nodded frantically, words failing you as his fingers moved in tandem with his tongue, his pace unrelenting.

"That’s it," Frank praised, his voice rough with hunger. "Gonna fill you up, make sure it takes." His lips wrapped around your clit again, sucking with just the right amount of pressure. "Gonna make you round with my child."

The words alone sent you spiraling, pleasure cresting in a blinding, overwhelming wave as you came apart beneath him, your cries filling the room.

Frank groaned, lapping up everything you gave him before pulling back, his mouth slick, his hazel eyes dark with hunger. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand, exhaling a deep, satisfied breath.

Frank sat back on his knees, his broad chest rising and falling with deep, measured breaths. His hazel eyes burned with something raw and insatiable as he reached down, hooking his fingers into the waistband of his soiled underwear. In one slow, deliberate motion, he pushed them down, letting his thick, heavy cock spring free. It was still slick from his earlier release, the flushed tip already leaking again at the mere sight of you beneath him.

You swallowed hard, your pulse racing as you reached for the hem of your pajama top, pulling it over your head and tossing it aside. The cool air sent a shiver through you, but Frank’s gaze—hungry, possessive—made you feel scalding hot.

His breath hitched slightly as he took in the sight of your bare breasts, the soft curves rising and falling with each uneven inhale. His large, chubby hands reached out, cupping them reverently before his fingers tightened, rolling a taut nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

“Christ,” he murmured, his baritone voice thick with something primal. “So bloody perfect.”

You whimpered, arching into his touch as he leaned down, his hooked nose grazing your skin before he captured one of your nipples between his lips. His tongue was hot, wet, swirling around the sensitive peak before he sucked greedily, groaning at the way you gasped beneath him.

His other hand trailed down, his fingers sliding over your thigh before gripping just above your knee. He lifted your leg, adjusting his position, spreading you open wider for him. His cock brushed against your slick heat, the thick head teasing your entrance, and you shuddered at the contact.

Frank released your nipple with a wet pop, his breath coming out in ragged pants as he dragged his cock along your folds, coating himself in your arousal. “Good thing you’re so bloody flexible,” he muttered, smirking as he pushed your leg up further, angling himself just right.

And then, with one slow, deliberate thrust, he pushed inside you.

A sharp gasp tore from your lips as he stretched you, filling you inch by inch. Frank groaned, his head dropping forward, his white hair falling into his face as he sank deeper. “Fuck,” he hissed, his baritone voice shaking slightly. “So bloody tight.”

Your fingers curled around his biceps, nails digging into the firm muscle as he bottomed out, his cock buried to the hilt. His breath was hot against your skin, his broad chest pressing into yours as he let you adjust, savoring the way your walls clenched around him.

“Christ, love,” he growled, pulling back slightly before thrusting in again, slower this time, savoring every inch of you. “You feel—” His jaw clenched as he pushed deeper, angling himself just right. “Like you were made for me.”

You whimpered, your body arching, desperate for more. “Frank—”

He smirked at the way you gasped his name, his grip on your leg tightening as he rolled his hips, hitting that perfect spot that sent white-hot pleasure racing through you.

“There it is,” he murmured, watching the way your eyes fluttered shut, your lips parting in a silent moan. “That’s what I want, love. Want to see you unravel beneath me.”

His thrusts quickened, his cock slamming into you at just the right angle, your leg pressed high against his chest. The stretch was intense, the pleasure overwhelming, and Frank knew exactly what he was doing.

“You wanted a baby, didn’t you?” he growled, his hazel eyes locked onto yours, watching every reaction, every gasp. “Wanted me to fill you up, fuck my brat into you?”

You moaned helplessly, nodding, too lost in the sensation to form words.

And you? You had stopped taking your contraceptives without a second thought.

Frank’s smirk deepened, his dominance unwavering. “Then take it,” he snarled, thrusting harder, deeper. “Take every bloody drop.”

The past month had been a blur of heat, sweat, and whispered promises in the dark. Frank had been insatiable—more than usual. The man already had an insurmountable appetite for you, but ever since he’d muttered those fateful words—"Let’s make you a mother"—he had been relentless.

It hadn't been much of a surprise when the first signs of pregnancy appeared—the exhaustion, the heightened sensitivity, the constant flutter in your lower belly. You had taken the test early that morning, standing in the dim light of the bathroom, your hands trembling slightly as you stared at the little stick.

Positive.

Your heart had clenched, a rush of emotions flooding you all at once. You were pregnant.

With Frank’s baby.

A part of him. A part of you.

You had pressed a hand to your still-flat stomach, a quiet smile tugging at your lips. He didn’t know yet. But you were determined to make sure he found out in the best possible way.

Frank was due home soon, and you had prepared everything meticulously. The dining table was set, bathed in the warm glow of candlelight. A bottle of his favorite whiskey sat next to a glass, waiting for him. And in the center of the table was a small, wrapped box—inside it, the positive pregnancy test, neatly nestled between a tiny onesie that read, Daddy’s Little Soldier.

Your heart pounded as you smoothed down your dress, glancing at the clock. Any moment now.

And then, right on time, the front door creaked open.

Frank stepped inside, shaking off his military jacket as he muttered something about "bloody politics" and "incompetent bureaucrats." His white hair was slightly tousled, his hooked nose flaring as he let out a tired sigh.

Then, his hazel eyes landed on you.

He stopped.

The irritation in his face melted away almost instantly as he took in the scene—the candles, the dinner, the whiskey. His sharp gaze flickered back to you, brows raising slightly. “What’s this?” His baritone voice was low, cautious, amused.

You smiled, stepping forward to take his jacket from his hands. “I thought I’d surprise you,” you murmured, pressing a lingering kiss to his cheek.

Frank hummed, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Now, what have I done to deserve this?” His fingers grazed your waist, his grip firm, possessive, as he pulled you against him. His scent—whiskey, musk, and something distinctly him—washed over you. “Have I been an especially good boy?”

You rolled your eyes at his teasing, but your stomach fluttered all the same. “You’ll see soon enough,” you replied, nudging him toward the table. “Sit.”

Frank gave you a long, assessing look but obeyed, settling into his chair with a heavy sigh. His chubby fingers reached for the whiskey, pouring himself a glass as his hazel eyes flickered toward the small wrapped box in the center of the table.

His gaze sharpened.

You swallowed, nerves creeping up your spine. “Open it.”

Frank set his glass down, his fingers moving with practiced precision as he untied the ribbon and lifted the lid. The moment his eyes landed on the onesie, he stilled.

Silence.

Then, slowly, he picked up the tiny garment, his rough, calloused fingers brushing over the words Daddy’s Little Soldier.

Your heart pounded. “Frank—”

But he wasn’t looking at the onesie anymore. His eyes had drifted to the object beneath it.

The pregnancy test.

Frank’s fingers curled around it, his hazel eyes darkening as he processed what he was seeing. The lines were unmistakable.

Positive.

For the first time since you’d known him, Frank Benson was speechless.

Your chest tightened. “Say something,” you whispered.

Frank exhaled sharply, his grip tightening around the test as he looked up at you. His expression was unreadable—shock, disbelief, something else you couldn’t quite place.

“You’re pregnant?” His voice was rough, almost hesitant.

You nodded. “Yes.”

His lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to say something, but nothing came out. He just stared at you, his hazel eyes searching yours, his hooked nose flaring with each deep inhale.

Then, finally, after what felt like an eternity, he let out a deep, shuddering breath.

“Bloody hell,” he murmured.

You bit your lip, your stomach twisting in uncertainty. “Are you—are you happy?”

Frank blinked.

And then, to your absolute shock, he let out a low, breathless laugh.

A real, genuine laugh.

He shook his head, running a hand down his face before looking back at you, his expression somewhere between exasperation and utter, undeniable joy. “Christ, woman,” he muttered, his baritone voice rough. “Of course, I’m happy.”

Before you could even react, he was out of his chair, closing the distance between you in two strides. His large hands cupped your face, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that was searing, desperate, filled with something you couldn’t quite name.

Possession.

Gratitude.

Love.

When he pulled back, his hooked nose brushed against yours, his breath warm and heavy. “You’re carrying my child,” he murmured, his voice raw with emotion.

You nodded, your throat tight.

Frank let out a slow exhale, his chubby fingers trailing down your body before settling on your stomach. His touch was uncharacteristically gentle, reverent. “My baby,” he muttered, almost to himself. “Our baby.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, your hands covering his. “Yes.”

Frank was quiet for a long moment, just staring at your stomach as if he could already see the life growing inside of you. Then, his grip tightened.

“I’m going to take care of you,” he said, his voice low, commanding, filled with absolute certainty. “Of both of you.”

Your heart clenched.

He lifted his gaze back to yours, his hazel eyes burning with intensity. “No arguments, love. You’re mine. And now, so is this little one.”

A shaky laugh escaped you. “I wouldn’t dream of arguing.”

Frank smirked. “Good girl.”

Then, with a satisfied hum, he pressed another kiss to your lips before dropping to his knees, his broad hands settling on your hips as he nuzzled against your stomach.

And in the dim glow of candlelight, with his baritone voice murmuring soft words against your skin, you realized—this was it.

This was everything.

[laswells-ashtray]

Hii! First time here, but I binged your works and just wanted to say that your writings are amazing! Keep up the good work and never lose your spark🫶🏾

(P.S.-Any more ideas on sassy omega Price? I’m usually not into those kinds of things but you got me hooked.)

for the sheer kindness of this ask, I have more Omega Price. not so much in the story format and more in little tidbits because my cat just sliced open my fingertip with her claws and it's hard to type

If you like the Nik/Price/Ghost idea, personally, I am a big fan specifically in the omegaverse.

Nik is the main alpha that John goes to for everything, he deals with the bitchiness, the everything. As far as anyone's concerned, that's John's alpha. Not that it hurts Simon in any way. He likes being a part of what they've got, but they're easing him into it slowly because thrusting this entire dynamic on him at once would do more harm than good.

Doesn't stop him from snitching to Nik whenever John gets a bit, too pissy, though.

And if Nik's away and he has to deal with it himself? When has Simon Riley ever been anything but capable. He'll drag that pissy captain back to his room and scent him until John is a reluctant puddle of content against his chest and Simon makes no effort to hide that he's smug as fuck.

Price is sassy anyway, there's three games worth of content to prove that, but there's a fine line between banter and him being genuinely pissed off. All of the lads have learned the difference, and a big part of it comes from John's need to throw himself into the job with all he's got. All of them do it, but he takes it to the extreme, stuck in the office filling out paperwork and planning missions without ever asking for help because it's a barrier for him. He can't push himself past it and ask for assistance because he's so stuck in this captain persona that it draws him away from the people around him, his pack.

And that lack of interaction and closeness translates into an anger that he can't quite wrap his head around and it's only sated by being surrounded by his people.

He pushes his limits around Laswell all of once, snapping at her for something that obviously isn't her fault when she's already stressed and for a split second he sees them sending his dogtags back to Nik with a "We're sorry for your loss." He learns not to do it again. It almost becomes a reminder for him, he finds himself getting irrationally irritated at something Laswell does, and he falters because he knows he's in too deep and he needs his people.

Laswell is absolutely pack too but she's scarier than the rest of them. She has no problem putting Pissy Price in his Place. It is a part-time job that she gets paid for via Nikolai sending her bottles of expensive whisky. She has no problem bringing in the reinforcements when he bites back at her with a bit too much force. Then suddenly, he's got two rambunctious sergeants and a not so pleased lieutenant all playing squish the omega.

Although when Price is being genuinely sassy because he wants something [it's to get bent over, it's always to get bent over], Nik and Simon clock him immediately. He'll stand with one hip popped, drawing far too much attention to how those wide fucking shoulders lead down to an unreasonably small waist and Nik has the urge to fuck him senseless in the back of the heli. Simon has visions them doing it on John's desk, but he isn't sure the old thing could take the sheer amount of force he'd put behind fucking Captain John Price six ways to Sunday.

[1-800-ur-cyber-slxtt]

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 𝜗𝜚

requests are open! ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

request info at the bottom

socials ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

ao3: @1800URCYBERSLXTT

Wattpad: @1-800-UR-CYBER-SLXTT

𝟗-𝟏-𝟏

𝐄𝐕𝐀𝐍 "𝐁𝐔𝐂𝐊" 𝐁𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐋𝐄𝐘 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

⟢ 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒; 𝐄𝐕𝐀𝐍 𝐁𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐋𝐄𝐘 [plus size reader, imagine]

⤷ a passing comment and shared showers lead to a hard time for the plus size reader, luckily she has Evan Buckley...

⟢ 𝐈𝐅 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔, 𝐇𝐈𝐌; 𝐄𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐙, 𝐄𝐕𝐀𝐍 𝐁𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐋𝐄𝐘 [smut- mainly eddie but buck endgame, no buck smut!!]

⤷ another hook up leaves the reader hurt again, he'll never treat her right but maybe his best friend will.

⟢ 𝐅𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃; 𝐄𝐕𝐀𝐍 𝐁𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐋𝐄𝐘 [plus size reader, smut]

⤷ your uniform gets shrunken in the wash and shrinks a decent size smaller. Buck who already has feelings for you is more than flustered at the sight of your shirt hugging your plump tits.

𝐄𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐙 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

⟢ 𝐈𝐅 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔, 𝐇𝐈𝐌; 𝐄𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐙, 𝐄𝐕𝐀𝐍 𝐁𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐋𝐄𝐘 [smut]

⤷ another hook up leaves the reader hurt again, he'll never treat her right but maybe his best friend will.

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝟏𝟗

𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐆𝐈𝐁𝐒𝐎𝐍 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

⟢ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐀𝐆𝐍𝐄; 𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐆𝐈𝐁𝐒𝐎𝐍 [smut]

⤷ Jack and reader used to be friends with benefits but they'd both agreed it would be best to stop. And yet at Maya and Carina's wedding neither could keep to the agreement any longer.

𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐔𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐒

𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 "𝐖𝐑𝐎𝐄𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐖" 𝐋𝐄𝐖𝐈𝐒 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

⟢ 𝐇𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐊; 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐋𝐄𝐖𝐈𝐒 [smut]

⤷ a sidemen hide and seek video! reader and boyfriend harry hide together and one things leads to another... oh and don't forget the unexpecting witnesses.

⟢ 𝐃𝐑𝐔𝐍𝐊𝐄𝐍 𝐑𝐄𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐒; 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐋𝐄𝐖𝐈𝐒 [smut]

⤷ harry and reader are friends, nothing else. sure sometimes they flirt, sometimes their eyes linger on one another for a minute or two longer than a friends gaze should but that means nothing, right? one night after their friend group goes out drinking reader and harry end up back at his apartment, neither of them thinking straight. and when morning rolls around reader flees.

𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌

𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐒 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

⟢ 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐏; 𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐒 [smut]

⤷ you get antsy, sick of waiting for the perfect time to come around so you can finally hook up with your boyfriend...

request info ⋆｡˚ Requests are written on my own time and may take a long time to be published (if written at all). This could vary from a week to a couple months. I am at liberty to turn down requests if I don't feel inspired to write them, don't have the motivation to write them out of a lack of interest or because of a writing slump. I will also turn them down if they don't align with my beliefs.* (Meaning things that make me uncomfortable or don't align with my morals). Don't be mad if your request doesn't get written or at the speed of which it does. Respect is key. I do not rewrite episodes (for the purpose of adding the reader into the story), personally I hate both writing and reading these so I will just simply not do it. I may however accept a similar storyline or plot idea that is in the show but with the purpose of putting my own spin on it and having creative freedom. Feel free to send me an ask/request or message to find out if I write for a fandom or person I haven't yet! I only write fem or neutral (afab for smut) readers. Lastly, please be specific with your requests! I suffer severely from writers block and unspecific requests really do not help.

divider credits; @fanguro, @cannibalim 

[megs-1800]

Nothing Good Happens After 2am

Notes: This is a request from Anon, I hope you are happy with it. As usual thank you for all the feedback and please continue to send feedback and requests.

Summary: You and Mason broke up 6 months ago. When your friend leaves you and you loose everything on a night out Mason's was the only number you could remember. Will he come and save you? Could you rekindle your relationship?

Pairings: Mason Mount x Reader

Word Count: 4.9K

Warnings: Fluff, Angst and a little Smut, Mentions of Miscarriage (does not go into great detail)

Mason POV:

It had been another horrible Wednesday night kick off, sat on the bench and no game time once again, the press are going to have a field day again with all this. I really cannot cope with anymore bad statements written, its really starting to have an effect me now. I walk through my front door and the loneliness hits me as I walk in. Its been 6 months since you and y/n broke up and days like today you could really do with her optimism and beautiful smile saying “fuck the press” and “Don’t listen to them look how many people support you, we are all proud that’s all that matters. I am your biggest fan!” but not today I do not get those words of encouragement. I just want an early night, so I shower and make myself something easy for dinner and crawl into bed. I hate how quiet the house is, there was always something going on with you, you were either on  facetime to your family, or singing along to your headphones whilst you cook or clean, or even asking me about my day there was constant chatter but today silence. My bed is so cold, I cannot even bring myself to sleep on your side still at the moment. I put ‘How I Met Your Mother’ on the TV for background noise as I try to fall asleep, it was our favourite TV show it was our comfort show that we used to watch over and over again I watch it now to hope that it would give me some kind of familiarity, it reminds me of you. I am curling up in bed hoping that I can fall asleep soon, when I heard during the episode ‘nothing good happens after 2am’. This is where all the memories of you come flooding back, because that statement couldn’t be more true. Nothing good ever happens after 2am especially when it comes to me and you, our car accident occurred at 2:30am when a drunk driver served us off the road coming back from an event together, you almost died that night and I have never been so scared in my life. The night we had our first fight occurred at 4:30am and the night we broke up well that was 3am. So yes I defiantly agree nothing good happens after 2am, well that was until tonight.

The next thing I knew I was being woken up by my phone ringing, it was a mobile number that wasn’t saved. I declined the call, and looked at the time who the hell is ringing met at 3am in the morning?  The number rang again, I didn’t want to answer it but whoever it was calling clearly wanted my attention. “h-h-hello m-m-mason?” I could hear the soft voice on the other end of the phone, it sounded desperate and scared. I knew that voice. “y/n” I couldn’t believe its you after 6 months my heart starts beating erratically. “I am sorry to wake you, I know its early in the morning” I interrupt you straight away “Please do not apologise, I am glad you called. Can I ask whats wrong? I do not see you ringing me just to say hey and off a different number”. At that I yawn starting to wake up and run a hand through my bed hair to get it out my face.  You giggled at that, it was one of those fake laughs that you used to do when your life was falling apart but still trying to smile. “Um it’s a long story.. I don’t even know Mase”. You start crying, I just want to hold you I hate when you cry. “I went out clubbing with Brittany and she met this guy and left me to hook up with him”. “I always hated that Brittany” I spat at you she was an awful selfish friend to you, you always deserved better. “I know you do Mase but right now I don’t need that I told you so speech” you say sternly. “Sorry” I say defeated and let you continue. “I came outside to ring her, I kept ringing her but she didn’t answer. That’s when this group of guys came over they saw me sad, obviously knew I was on my own and vulnerable.One of the guys punched me, and they took my phone and bag”. At this you started breaking. At the idea of someone hurting you like that, and all because that Brittany left you, I was so angry and  I started to put my shoes and get dressed whilst you continued. “Luckily I didn’t take any bank cards with me as I used contactless on my phone,  but my bag had my hotel room key in and now there is no receptionist until 7am and I have no way of getting into the hotel and no way to pay for another, my ankle is on fire where I landed on it when I got punched. I just don’t know what to do Mase, its my first time back in Manchester since we broke up I just cannot do this!” You then start to scream cry I just want to hold you I need to go to you. I cannot believe you are in Manchester! I put the word out to those in Manchester and for people to notify me if she goes why did no one tell me?  Its my turn to speak “I am ready, where am I going to get you?”  “Don’t be silly Mason, I only called you because it was the only number I remember can you call my dad and he will come and get me?” At that I am offended I get the break up wasn’t great terms but you woke me up, there was obviously more of a reason then that. “Your dad is 3 hours away, by the time he gets to you it will be sunrise and I am guessing you need your car to go home with so you might as well just let me come get you then we can sort something out for tonight so you can get all your stuff from the hotel tomorrow”. You know I am right, so you let me know the address and agreed to wait outside until I get there. I insisted you to stay inside as its cold, but you said you just wanted to get out of there so it will make it quicker to  stand outside.

I have never driven so fast in my life, all our memories together came flooding back I cannot believe I get to see you, after the longest 6 months I get to see the love of my life again. I pull up outside the club and see you in the skimpiest dress and the highest heels which you have now taken off and holding in your hand. This isn’t you I thought. I wind down my window “What the hell are you wearing?” You roll you eyes “Don’t start Mason” and hobble over to the passenger side. When you are inside I look straight at your ankle, it looks swollen probably a sprain. Your face is all red and puffy from the obvious crying and the left side of your face has gone red and swollen where that prick punched you. God if I ever find out who did this to you. I thought.

Readers POV:

You saw Masons Land Rover pull up, he had a hoodie on obviously trying to not get spotted. When I got inside the car, I looked over at him. He has let his hair grow longer and there is so much worry in his eyes. God he is so gorgeous not sure if this was the alcohol talking or not but I just want to jump across the car and kiss him. “You hungry?” He askes “Its like you read my mind Mount I am starvinggggg” That came out a little more confident then I expected but he shot me a smile which melted my heart. Damn you Mase all these feelings are coming back. “You fancy a Maccys?” He asks “Oh yeah I defo could eat a double cheeseburger and chicken nuggets right now but are you sure cause I can see the headlines now ‘Mason Mount is spotted having a late night maccys what will United think?’” He laughs at this “I said did you want a Maccys I didn’t say I am having one, I am not putting that shit in my body but I know you love it when you drunk”. Awww I love how you remember, you were always so good to me. Then it hits me I haven’t got any money on me. “Mason my cards are in the hotel room, I have no money don’t worry honestly”. He gives me a small reassurance smile “Don’t be silly its my treat, or if it would make you feel better you can pay me back when you got a new phone sorted”. We both knew he would never let me pay him back but I am too tired and hungry to argue.

We ordered the Maccys and decided its best to sit in the car and eat it so the car so Mason doesn’t get recognised. As I am munching away on my burger and chicken nuggets and I can slowly feel the alcohol wearing off. “Where am I taking you now?” He asks, I can feel my eyes starting to water “I have no idea Mase, my car keys and cards are inside my hotel room that I have no key card for so I am pretty fucked if I am being honest. I can use your phone to contact Brittany through socials again and see if she is around so I can go to her hotel or if you can drop me outside my hotel I can sleep outside until the reception opens?” Mason gives me a disappointed look “Absolutely not! My house is big enough you can sleep in one of the guest rooms please you are not sleeping on the streets or going back to that bitch”. I gave in it was cold I really just wanted to curl up in a bed. I give Mason a smile and a nod I just don’t know what to say. I never had this issue before we used to tell eachother everything and now I feel myself getting nervous. Mason yawns and runs a tired hand through his hair. “I am sorry for dragging you out this time, I really do appreciate it thank you”, “I would be offended y/n if you were in Manchester in need and you didn’t ring me” he laughed which I made a little laugh back to it. I just remembered shit “Shit sorry you had a game this evening, I am sorry I feel even worse now you must be exhausted sorry Mase how did it go?” now I just feel like a burden. He doesn’t make eye contact and just looks down “Don’t worry about it, didn’t get off the bench” he said this in such a harsh tone and basically spat it out, I hate when he is hard on himself. I grabbed Mason’s hand and run his fingers through mine “Stop that you just getting back from injury you cannot just come back to full time games and scoring 1000s of goals again give yourself time Mase, and just remember I am still your number one fan!”. I winked at the last part and Mason smiled I could tell he needed that more then I know.

We pulled into his driveaway and parked up “wait here 2 secs” and he quickly runs upto the house Great I thought he going to tell his girlfriend that I am here or quickly run his slag out or something. But he opened the door, I could tell where he was standing he was typing in the security alarm code and then came running back to the car. He opened the passenger door for me and held his hand out to help me get out the car. I winced at the sudden pain of putting pressure on my right ankle, he puts a hand tight against my back and carries me bridal style into the house. I forgotten how good he smells. He slowly lowers me to the ground being careful of your ankle, your dog Roco comes running through the house. He was a chocolate Labrador which you and Mason got when we first moved in, Mason said it was to keep me company when he was away which he definitely did, I let Mason keep him when we broke up as he was too much of a memory of Mason for me to keep. I was too broken. Roco bolted on top of you causing you to fall over due to lack of balance on your ankle which he gets on top of you licking away at your face. “Get off her Roco!” Mason shouts at the dog with authority and helps you up. “Its okay Mase, I have missed him” carrying on stroking him. “Well you have had enough injuries today I do not need my dog to add to that”. I looked at Mason in shock “Your dog?” I question. I thought he was OUR dog.

Mason supported me to walk up the stairs until we got the upstairs landing, “did you want a shower? You must be frozen” I know Mason asked that last bit as a question even though he can feel how cold I am as his hands are around my shoulders. “Yeah that sounds great I just don’t know how long I will be able to stand on my ankle its in agony”. Mason walks me over to the bed the bed we used to share. He crouches in front of me to look at my ankle he starts wiggling it and pushing on it which is causing me to moan in pain. “Sorry” he sends me a sympathetic look and rubs my hand in assurance that he isn’t meaning to hurt me, which I know Mason would never hurt me. “It doesn’t look broken its probably just a sprain, it looks like a bad sprain though due to the amount of swelling. Come to training with me tomorrow afternoon so I can get the physios to look at it for.” He got back up and supported me up so I was standing in front of him “Honestly Mase its fine I am sure after a couple of days it will be fine I don’t need to come to training with you”, “Y/n I insist I would rather know they have checked you out, its just gym training so I won’t be there long and then I can take you back to your hotel afterwards. Please if you not doing that at least let me take you to the hospital”. He knows how much you hate sitting in the hospitals so you gave in “Fine I will come with you tomorrow thanks”. “Are you going to report the attack to the police?” I shake my head “No point, they only stole my phone and hotel room key which there are 100s of hotels in Manchester so its not like they going to know which one it is, I will let the hotel know tomorrow and my phone there is nothing they can do”. Mason looked at you with concern “But they hit you y/n they need to pay for what they did to you.” He said that with a authority but I know he is only saying it to care. “I cannot even remember what they looked like, one minute they are coming towards me next thing I am on the floor and they are running off, the police are not going to be able to do anything without a positive ID plus they had hoodies on so its not like CCTV can pick it up. I appreciate your concern though”.

“Did you want some help to shower?” I looked at Mason shocked, we haven’t been that intimate in 6 months I am taken aback by that comment. Mason laughs and looked down and I can see a little blush. “Not like that y/n, just that you said it yourself you are not sure how you are going to shower with your ankle, and you need to shower you are frozen. You are clumsy at the best of times I do not need you slipping due to balancing on one foot”. Mason laughs as he knows what I am like, I nod my head as I know I am not going to win this argument. He turns me around and unzips my dress. I suddenly feel very exposed, Mason suddenly chucks me his dressing gown I look down and see its got the Man United badge on it “Making me betray (your football teams name) now” Mason laughs as he knows how much you love your football team.

You hobbled into the bathroom and turned the shower on, you hung the dressing gown on the door and stepped under the shower. His shower was always beautiful I don’t know why it was always the best shower. I can feel the hot specks of water running down my skin, suddenly warming me up. I needed this more then I thought. Mason walks in naked and comes to join me in the shower. I looked him up and down and suddenly start blushing, we have showered so many times together and been a lot more intimate then that before so not sure why I am so nervous. He giggles “you should take a picture it would last longer”. This makes me blush even more “Well I have had those pictures, but luckily I deleted them otherwise the people who stole my phone could of hacked it and it would have been all over the news by now ‘Mason Mounts Nudes Leaked!’ He laughs at that grateful you did delete them. It was photos we would send eachother whilst he was away when we needed some intimacy. “Well maybe in light of everything that has happened I should delete yours just in case” He winks at me. He still has my pictures.

He quickly grabs my body wash from under the sink “You left all your stuff here when you left, I thought I would keep it you know just in case. I am glad I did now”. He puts the body wash on my body and starts rubbing it in. His touch is like ecstasy, him touching my body like that brings back all these memories again. I turn to look at him so he can wash my front then I can see him looking at me up and down, I can feel him blushing. Then he starts looking at my lips and back up to my eyes again, he does this a couple of times then next thing you know his lips are crashing to me. He pulls away to check its okay, at this moment in time all I care about is him. I put my arms around his neck and pull his body into mine and feel him start to harden at the kiss. He pushes me into the wall and grinds his body into mine so I can feel his new harden length digging into me. As I breathe for air his lips are now attacking my neck, as he pushes me up against the wall. My ankle is causing me so much pain but at the moment all I can think about his him. His mouth goes back to mine and I can feel his tongue in my mouth. I have forgotten how sexy he was. Before I know it, his fingers are inside me they are going slow at first and then he starts to pump harder “fuck” I mutter. I forgotten how good his fingers are. I pull my fingers through his hair which makes him go faster. I can feel myself start to get close then reality brings me back what am I doing? We cannot be doing this we are not together. “Mase” I say in hopes to stop it, at the whisper of his name he just hums into my neck. “Mase, stop”. I say a big louder this time. As soon as Mason heard this he pulled his fingers out of me and quickly separated himself away from me. He looks scared “Did uh did I hurt you?” He looks confused. You smile to get him some reassurance. “No god no Mase. It felt incredible actually. Just we cannot be doing this its going to make it a whole lot more complicated. I am sorry for leading you on”. Mason shakes his head “Don’t be silly, I just could never resist you, I am sorry. Lets just finish the shower”.

He finished your shower and you agreed you will get dressed while he quickly showers. You hobble over to the bed in your towel and see that Mason as left one of his United Shirts and a pair of his boxers on the bed that you could wear. You are quickly getting dressed with Mason walks in. He turns to you “You are making it really hard to resist you, you know you wearing my clothes was always my weakness”. You laugh at this, you can see the specks of water running down his chest which makes your heart beat He is so sexy. “Back at you Mount, always were the most sexiest man”. I wink at him.

“stay in my bed tonight”, I shot a Mason a look of shock. He quickly justifies his reason “look you were punched in the face and hit your head you could have concussion I would rather you sleep with me so I know you are okay and like not going to die in the night” He laughs I know he only doing it to care but he always so dramatic. “Look you can even have Roco share the bed, I usually don’t let him up here but if it would make you feel comfortable knowing there is a dog between us.” He tries to reason. I give him a warm smile back “Okay that would be okay, if Roco could. I have missed him so much so I would love to fall asleep with him again”. Mason nods and gestures to me to get into bed whilst he shouts Roco and I can heat the pounding of feet up the stairs. Roco quickly waits for permission from Mason to get into bed damn he has trained him well. Once given the nod Roco jumps into bed and snuggles up with me, a tear slipped down my cheek on how much I have missed him. I quickly wiped it but the look Mason gave me I think he saw it.

We both lying in bed staring at the ceiling with Roco curled up between us, maybe this was a bad idea as I forgot how big Roco was and he is taking up all the room. “You know all bad things happen after 2am I still agree with that fact” I look at Mason and I know he laughs because of the irony of it. “I don’t know, I know you got hurt but all the events tonight still got you in my bed after 6 months so maybe I might need to retract that statement”. I look at him and giggle. Is he trying to flirt?. I can feel my eyes welling up “M-M-Mason what happened to us? Where did it all go so wrong?” He sits up in the bed cross legged so he is not looking over at me “I don’t know Y/N/N you are the one who ended it you tell me”. I am hurt at that, like he doesn’t know why I ended it, like he didn’t know all the issues we had.

I now sit up trying not to disturb Roco who is now snoring away, I carry on stroking him to ensure he stays in his sleep. “Come on Mason, we weren’t happy you know that. We were arguing constantly and the distance was getting to us. The hate we were both receiving was getting to both us. Look how nice and supporting you have been tonight you haven’t be like that in months.” You looked down “The miscarriage broke us Mase”. He looked down at that comment and I can see he was trying to hold it together and I can feel a tear run down my face. “I tried my best Mason, I lost our baby and you were constantly away, you were never around you threw yourself into training and were always out. I had to deal with it all on my own Mason, then when you were home we would shout do you know how hard that was? I had to walk away before I hated you Mason, cause I already hated myself for not giving you the one thing you wanted” at this I broke and started crying. Mason quickly leaped across the bed and put me into his lap and held me, he was rubbing my back. I can feel him crying too. Roco now woken up and curled back into us trying to comfort us. “I know I was distant I just didn’t know how to cope so I hid away. I was so excited to be a dad and was so excited for you to be the mother of my child but that was taken away from me, I just didn’t know what to do. That’s why I tried to throw myself into something because you needed me to be strong and I didn’t know how to be”. I bring his face up so our eyes meet mine “The problem is Mason you were just pushing me away, I needed you and you were no one to be found. I am miles away from my family so I had to cope with this on my own. I was all alone Mason I just didn’t know what else to be. I didn’t want to loose you, I wanted to walk away before you walked away from me”. Mason grabs my face and kisses me, I am shocked by this but return the kiss. I have waited 6 months for this. “I love you y/n I would of never left you. You broke my heart walking away. In the space of a month I lost baby and I lost you I was a mess. Ask Dec he had to ring me everyday to make sure I was out of bed”. I smile “I know, Dec messaged me everyday, who do you think was asking for the updates?” He smiles at that knowing you were still asking about him Damn I love this man.

I look over at the clock at the side of the room “Damn its 5:30am, we need to get some sleep you got training soon”. Mason nods and lies down on the bed which I do too. Mason looks over at me “Its fine, training not until lunchtime so we can still get a good couple of hours”. I nod that’s good I am going to struggle when that alarm goes off.

“How long are you down here for? What are your plans?” I am shocked Mason wants to talk I thought he would want to sleep. “I have no idea, I am supposed to be staying down and travelling home Sunday so I can go back to work, me and Brittany where going to go to your game on Saturday not going to lie”. I say a little embarrassed now. Mason gives me a small smile, I know he is happy at that. “Well how about I take you to training tomorrow to get your ankle looked at, I will take you back to your hotel to get a new key and all that and why don’t you just stay here? Mum and all the rest of the family are coming down tomorrow and are staying tomorrow night. Then I have training Friday but in the afternoon we are taking Mila and Summer to the zoo and then they staying for the game on Saturday. You don’t need to stay here you can stay at your hotel if its too awkward. But I know my family especially Mila and Summer will be so happy to see, and I bet Roco would love to spend time with his mummy”. The way he called me his mummy broke me, I forgotten how much I have missed my dog. I just wrap Roco up with that comment.

“That sounds amazing Mase, I would love to. If you wouldn’t mind I will stay here it saves me trying to get back from Manchester to Cheshire everyday. I would love to see your family I have missed them all so much” Mason smiles at that and brings you into his arms. “Maybe good things do happen after 2am”. You say. He spoons you to sleep as you feel yourself drifting to sleep. This is not the way you thought your night would go but you are so grateful it did.

[drewharrisonwriter]

Life Well Loved

Status: One Shot, Complete

Summary: Dieter Bravo’s life proves that plans are overrated—and he’s never been more right about not having one.

Word Count: 12.9k words -- I KNOW! (In Monica Geller's voice)

A/N: Am I having a Dieter brain rot? Why yes, yes, I am. I know I should be writing the next chapter of Lifeline, but here we are. This story contains themes of pregnancy and navigating unexpected life changes, with emotionally intense scenes that touch on topics like potential pregnancy termination, personal doubts, and fears. Though it's mostly fluff, the narrative leans toward a hopeful and supportive direction but explores the complexities of relationships and personal growth. Because hey, it's Dieter!

Warnings: Allusion to abortion, brief mentions of substance use (past), discussions of anxiety and self-doubt, public scrutiny/social media negativity, mentions of past parental loss, minor family tensions, and emotional conversations around pregnancy. Please read with care if these subjects are sensitive for you.

P.S. My laptop, which served me well for 5 years, just gave out. With grad school, the recent loss of my stepdad, and ongoing medical bills, finances are tight. I’m currently managing writing commissions and my dissertation from my phone, which is okay but really challenging. If you can help with a donation or by commissioning some of my writing, it would mean the world to me. Just send me a message 💜 Thank you from the bottom of my heart for any support you can offer. 💜🙏🏻

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Dieter Bravo never thought he’d end up married, let alone to his best friend. It wasn’t the kind of love story he had planned for himself, but then again, Dieter’s plans were usually an afterthought to his impulsive nature. He met her—his wife, the love of his life—years ago at a book signing. He’d been dragged there by a friend who swore her mystery novels were like something straight out of an Agatha Christie thriller, but with a modern, edgier twist.

“Come on, man. Just try something new,” his friend had nudged, practically shoving Dieter into the crowded bookstore. “She’s hot and her books are actually good. Not that you’d know.”

Dieter rolled his eyes but followed, pretending not to care. He didn’t read much beyond scripts, but when he saw her—standing there all wide-eyed and charming behind the signing table, chatting easily with fans—he was hooked. She had this warmth about her, a smile that reached her eyes, and a way of making everyone feel like they were the only person in the room.

When it was his turn in line, Dieter cleared his throat, a little unsure of what to say. “So, uh, is it true you based your killer on your ex?” he asked, flashing her his signature smirk.

She looked up, amused. “Only the charming parts. The murderous tendencies are purely fictional.”

Dieter chuckled, genuinely entertained. “Good to know. I’ll keep my charming side in check.”

She laughed, and Dieter swore he could listen to that sound all day. But the moment passed quickly, and they parted ways, the brief exchange lingering in Dieter’s mind longer than he’d like to admit.

They didn’t reconnect until months later when Dieter landed the role of a lifetime in the film adaptation of one of her books. He played the brooding lead, a role he was born to play, and she was on set every day, consulting on the story she knew better than anyone.

“Bravo!” she called out one afternoon, waving the script in the air as he finished a scene. “I think you missed a line, but you definitely nailed the smirk.”

“Missed the line? Nah, I made it better,” Dieter shot back, strutting over with that effortless confidence of his. “Besides, isn’t the lead supposed to be mysterious and broody? I’m just adding layers.”

She rolled her eyes, smiling. “Layers of bullshit, maybe.”

Their banter was easy, and soon, late nights spent in hotel bars became their thing. They’d laugh over terrible room service and even worse dialogue changes, often rewriting entire scenes together between drinks.

“Do you think the audience is gonna buy this twist?” Dieter asked one night, his brow furrowed as he scribbled on a napkin. “It’s a bit much, don’t you think?”

“It’s a mystery, Bravo. It’s supposed to be dramatic,” she said, playfully nudging his shoulder. “Besides, you’re the one bringing it to life. If anyone can sell it, it’s you.”

Over the years, their friendship grew deeper. Dieter adored her—not just for her talent, but for the way she saw right through him. She didn’t care about the Hollywood persona; she cared about the guy who struggled with his lines, laughed too loudly, and occasionally got lost in his own head. And it was clear to anyone who knew him that she was the only one who truly got him.

“Why do you even stick around?” Dieter asked one night, half-drunk and more vulnerable than he intended. They were sitting on the balcony of some hotel in Vancouver, the city lights flickering below them, empty glasses scattered between them.

She looked over at him, surprised at the question but not at the insecurity behind it. “You’re kidding, right? Who else is gonna put up with my obsessive rewriting of everything?”

Dieter smirked, but the self-deprecation was still there, hovering. “I’m serious, baby. You’ve seen me at my worst. Hell, you’ve probably seen me at my best, and let’s be real, there’s not a whole lot of difference.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was affection in the gesture. “Come on, Dee. You think I don’t know who you are? I’ve watched you screw up a million times and still pull it off somehow. You’re not as hopeless as you think.”

“Yeah, but it’s all smoke and mirrors,” he muttered, leaning back and staring at the city. “I’m just this mess pretending to be a movie star. And people buy it, but I don’t know how much longer I can keep up the act.”

She leaned closer, her smile gentle but knowing. “You’re not acting, Dee. This is you—chaotic, brilliant, all over the place. And somehow it works. That’s why people love you. It’s why I love you.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Sure, but it’s not exactly the stuff that makes for a stable life. I can’t even commit to a weekly gym routine, let alone… you know, anything permanent.”

“Well, it’s good you know that about yourself,” she said, her tone more serious now. “But just because you’re not ready for all that doesn’t mean you’re a failure. You’ve built this crazy, messy, amazing life, and you’ve done it on your terms.”

Dieter glanced at her, the sincerity in her eyes almost too much to bear. “But it’s still just a mess, right? Like, I don’t know how to be the guy who settles down, who has the white picket fence and the kids. It’s not in me.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t make you any less,” she pointed out, nudging his knee with hers. “You’re the guy who shows up when it counts, who makes people laugh when they need it, who cares more than he lets on. And that’s enough, Dee. It really is.”

Dieter stared at her, his expression softening. “You make it sound like I’m not totally screwing everything up.”

“Because you’re not,” she said simply, giving him a small, reassuring smile. “You’re doing what works for you, and that’s more than most people can say. So don’t be so hard on yourself, okay?”

They sat in a comfortable silence, the kind that comes from knowing each other inside and out. Dieter wasn’t sure if he could ever really change, but with her by his side, he felt like maybe he didn’t need to.

The media loved to ask when Dieter Bravo, Hollywood’s lovable mess, was going to settle down. He always laughed it off, brushing it aside with jokes and his trademark self-deprecation. “Settle down?” he’d scoff to reporters, flashing that crooked grin. “Have kids? I can barely take care of myself. I mean, who’s gonna look after the baby when I’m off in Cabo or Amsterdam on a bender?”

He was always open about not wanting to be tied down, convinced that marriage and fatherhood were responsibilities he’d inevitably screw up just like everything else. Deep down, he didn’t think he was cut out for it. Not the commitment, not the kids—none of it. And yet, every time he thought about those nights spent talking with her, he couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, he could be more than the sum of his fears.

The truth was, Dieter loved being around kids, especially when visiting his favorite charities—arts programs, hospitals, anywhere that needed his presence to brighten the day. He had a soft spot for the kids who showed up at his movie premieres with homemade signs and for the shy ones who peeked out from behind their parents at hospital visits, their eyes lighting up at the sight of a real-life movie star. He’d spend hours signing autographs, posing for pictures, and handing out gifts. But wanting that momentary joy and having it every day were two entirely different things, and he didn’t think he was built for the kind of life that meant forever.

Then there was Vegas. It was one of those wild weekends that only Dieter and his friends could pull off, the kind that started with a simple plan and spiraled into chaos before anyone could catch their breath. They were there to celebrate a friend’s birthday—a milestone that felt more like a warning than a celebration to Dieter, who had spent the better part of the year dodging questions about settling down and growing up.

The night was a blur of neon lights, overpriced drinks, and the kind of reckless energy that only Vegas could inspire. Dieter and his best friend were deep into their third round of shots at some tacky but charming casino bar, laughing so hard their sides hurt. The conversation was easy, like it always was, jumping from half-remembered movie quotes to bad relationship stories that only got funnier with every shot.

“Remember when you two were drunk off margaritas and swore you’d get married if you were still single at 35?” one of their friends blurted out, pointing at Dieter and her with a tipsy grin. “Well, look at that—clock’s ticking, you two.”

“Oh please, they’d kill each other in a week,” another friend chimed in, rolling their eyes dramatically. “But hey, at least the headlines would be great.”

Dieter leaned back, smirking. “You think she’d kill me? I’m charming as hell.”

She snorted, leaning in closer to Dieter. “Charming? Sure, Dee, if charming means spilling three drinks and forgetting your lines.”

“Oh, you love it, don’t lie,” Dieter shot back, nudging her shoulder playfully.

Their friends egged them on, throwing out half-baked marriage advice between sips of whatever was in their glasses. “Just make sure you don’t pull a Ross and say the wrong name at the altar,” one joked, and they all burst into laughter, doubling over as the drinks kept flowing.

“Hey, I can pronounce her name just fine,” Dieter retorted, raising his glass to her. “What do you say, baby? You and me, Vegas style.”

“Wel…we’re way past 35 now…” she said, still smiling but now with a hint of mischief, “technically, we missed our window… so might as well make good on that old pact, right?”

Dieter stared at her, the room spinning slightly as he tried to read between the lines. They were supposed to be just friends, right? But it didn’t feel like a joke anymore, not when she looked at him like that. And for once, he didn’t want to think it through. He didn’t want to second-guess it or talk himself out of it like he usually did.

“Fuck it,” Dieter said, grinning wider than he had in months. “Let’s do it. You and me, baby. Let’s get hitched.”

Their friends erupted in cheers, half-shocked, half-encouraging, but it didn’t matter. They were drunk on cheap tequila and the reckless abandon of the Vegas Strip, where anything seemed possible. Before Dieter knew it, they were stumbling into a tacky little chapel off the main drag, the kind with neon hearts and an Elvis impersonator in the back who’d seen one too many late-night weddings.

The ceremony was a blur. Dieter remembered laughing so hard that he nearly dropped the ring—some gaudy, oversized thing they’d bought from a souvenir shop on the way over—and the way she squeezed his hand so tightly he could feel her nerves mixing with his own. There were no big speeches or dramatic declarations of love, just a lot of giggling, whispered jokes, and the kind of easy joy that felt like it belonged to them and them alone.

“Do you, Dieter Bravo, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?” the Elvis officiant drawled, barely keeping it together.

Dieter glanced at her, still half-expecting her to back out at the last second. But she was looking at him, eyes full of that familiar mix of sarcasm and something deeper that he’d never quite put a name to. “I do,” he said, and for once, it didn’t feel like a lie.

“And do you, sweetheart, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?” Elvis asked, already cracking a grin.

She squeezed Dieter’s hand, barely containing her laughter. “Hell yeah, I do.”

Elvis squinted, pausing dramatically. “Are you sure? Divorces are expensive. Trust me, I’ve had three.”

Their friends howled from the pews, tossing out quips. “Yeah, blink twice if you need an escape plan!” one of them shouted, while another chimed in, “You’re stuck with him now, good luck!”

Dieter threw his arm around her, laughing so hard his sides hurt. “Don’t worry, baby, I’m the best terrible decision you’ll ever make.”

She leaned in, grinning. “Guess we’re both screwed then.”

They kissed, and it was messy and off-center, but it felt right. It was the kind of kiss that was more about the laughter and less about the perfection of the moment, which was exactly how Dieter liked it. When they pulled apart, he was breathless, and she was glowing in a way that made the whole crazy, impulsive thing feel like the best decision he’d ever made.

They walked out of that chapel with matching rings and a new reality that neither of them fully understood but were more than willing to figure out together. And in true Dieter fashion, they celebrated the only way they knew how—by grabbing greasy burgers at an all-night diner and gambling away the rest of the night like newlyweds who couldn’t care less about what tomorrow would bring.

For once in his life, Dieter didn’t feel like he was running from anything. He was running toward something—toward her—and it felt like the only thing that made sense.

–

The first few months of marriage were an unpredictable whirlwind, much like the wedding itself. There were no grand changes, no dramatic shifts—just more of the same easy companionship they’d always had, now with the added humor of “Mrs. Bravo” peppered into their banter. They spent mornings in Dieter’s cluttered kitchen, arguing over the best way to make coffee while stumbling over each other in pajamas that never quite matched. Evenings were spent curled up on the couch, watching bad movies and stealing kisses during the credits like lovesick teenagers.

Their friends couldn’t get enough of it, either. The tabloids had gone wild over the news—Dieter Bravo, Hollywood’s most notorious bachelor, suddenly married to his long-time friend in a drunken Vegas escapade. Headlines like “Bravo’s Big Gamble” and “Hollywood’s Wildest Newlyweds” splashed across every gossip rag in the country. But Dieter and his wife took it in stride, shrugging off the noise and focusing on what actually mattered: them.

His family had been just as surprised but in the best way. They had welcomed her with open arms from the very first time she and Dieter had visited together. His mom had pulled her into a tight hug at the door, immediately peppering her with questions about her books and telling her how she had a shelf dedicated to them in the living room. Dieter’s siblings loved her, too—his sister often roping her into baking sessions in the kitchen, laughing over old stories about Dieter’s childhood antics that usually ended with him covered in mud or glitter or some combination of both.

It wasn’t long before she became a staple in their family gatherings, fitting in as if she’d always been there. Sunday dinners at the Bravo house turned into her favorite ritual. She’d help Dieter’s mom in the kitchen, rolling out dough for pies while swapping recipes and stories. Dieter’s nieces and nephews adored her, crowding around to hear tales of mystery and adventure, eyes wide as she brought her characters to life with every word.

“Can you tell us the one about the detective who finds the secret tunnel again?” one of his nephews had asked during Thanksgiving, tugging at her sleeve.

She smiled, glancing at Dieter, who was sitting at the head of the table, grinning like an idiot. “Only if you promise to help me figure out what’s at the end of it,” she teased, ruffling his hair.

His father, a retired fertility expert who had always been the more reserved member of the family, quickly warmed up to her, too. They’d sit on the porch during long afternoons, sipping coffee and talking about life, books, and the occasional scientific trivia that she found endlessly fascinating. He appreciated her wit, her genuine interest in everyone around her, and the way she always seemed to make his son smile.

As the year rolled by, the Bravo family embraced her more and more, and she felt a sense of belonging she hadn’t expected. She was no longer just Dieter’s wife; she was a daughter-in-law, a sister, and an aunt. She was family.

So when Christmas rolled around again, she was eager to be back at the Bravo household, despite feeling under the weather. She’d been sick for nearly two weeks, and Dieter had been worried. She barely ate, surviving mostly on pesto chicken paninis and iced coffee—the only things she could keep down. Still, she was excited to see his family, to bask in the warmth of his mother’s home-cooked meals and his sister-in-law’s desserts. She was looking forward to being surrounded by people who loved her as much as she loved them.

The moment they stepped through the front door, Dieter’s mom engulfed her in a hug, commenting on how thin she looked, and his sister immediately dragged her into the kitchen, insisting on making her favorite cookies. Dieter watched from the doorway, leaning against the frame with a smile. She fit here—so naturally, so effortlessly—that it almost made him forget how odd it all still felt to be someone’s husband. But then she’d look at him across the room, with that same smile she’d had since the bar in Vegas, and it felt right.

But as they settled into the cozy familiarity of his childhood home, Dieter’s father began to notice something. It wasn’t just that she looked tired—there was something else. A subtle glow to her skin, the way her eyes would soften when she looked at Dieter, the quiet but unmistakable aversions to certain foods she normally loved. When she grimaced at the sight of his wife’s famous lasagna and instead picked at a simple salad, he raised an eyebrow. He had seen it before, four times with his own wife, and the theory formed in his mind almost instantly.

It was the little things: how she leaned into Dieter when she thought no one was looking, resting her head on his shoulder like she couldn’t quite keep herself upright; the way her laughter was softer, tinged with something almost nervous. She hadn’t touched a drop of wine the entire evening, claiming she wasn’t in the mood, which was unlike her—especially when Dieter’s mom brought out her favorite bottle from the cellar.

Dieter’s dad observed quietly, piecing together the signs with a mix of curiosity and growing certainty. He knew better than to jump to conclusions, but every instinct told him that there was more to her recent sickness than a simple bug.

–

Later that evening, after dinner, Dieter and his father found themselves outside on the patio. The chill in the air was biting, and Dieter’s breath formed little puffs of smoke as he lit a cigarette, the faint glow of the ember flickering in the dark. He offered one to his dad, who simply shook his head, declining as usual. They settled into an easy silence, the kind that came from years of shared moments like these, watching the yard stretch out before them, dotted with twinkling Christmas lights that cast a warm, festive glow over the familiar landscape.

Dieter took a long drag, savoring the brief buzz of nicotine, and leaned back in his chair. It was quiet, the kind of quiet that always made him think too much, but tonight he welcomed it. He glanced sideways at his dad, whose face was half-lit by the soft glow of the porch light, lost in thought as he nursed his coffee.

“You know, son,” his father said finally, breaking the silence, “I couldn’t help but notice something about her tonight.”

Dieter raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “Yeah? Like what?”

His father hesitated, his expression thoughtful as he swirled the coffee in his mug. “She’s been feeling under the weather, hasn’t she? Seems a bit off.”

Dieter nodded, taking another drag and blowing out the smoke in a slow stream. “Yeah, she’s been sick for a couple of weeks. Picky about food, which isn’t like her. She’s basically living on those pesto chicken paninis. She can’t keep much else down.”

His father chuckled softly, the sound low and knowing, like he was recalling something long ago. “Huh. That’s interesting. Reminds me of your mom back in the day.”

Dieter frowned, glancing over at him. “What do you mean?”

There was a pause, and his father’s eyes stayed fixed on the yard, lost in a memory that Dieter couldn’t quite place. Finally, he spoke, his tone careful, almost gentle. “Have you considered she might be pregnant?”

Dieter’s reaction was instant—he snorted, nearly choking on his cigarette smoke as he laughed it off, but the sound was more nervous than amused. “Pregnant? Nah, no way. She’s got an IUD. Besides, we’ve been careful.”

His father smiled, but it wasn’t condescending. It was the kind of smile that spoke of experience, of having lived through more than one surprise in his lifetime. “IUDs aren’t foolproof, son. Nothing is. And I’ve seen those signs before. Aversions, fatigue, the way she looked at food tonight… I saw it with your mother every time she was pregnant.”

Dieter’s laugh faded, replaced by an uncomfortable tightness in his chest. He ran a hand through his hair, tugging slightly at the ends as his mind raced. “You’re serious?”

“Look, I’m not saying she is,” his father said, raising his hands in a small gesture of surrender. “But I’ve been around this long enough to know the signs when I see them. I’m just saying, it’s possible.”

Dieter stared out at the yard, the once comforting sight now blurred by the thoughts colliding in his mind. He tried to dismiss it, to chalk it up to his dad’s habit of overanalyzing things. But suddenly, every little moment from the past few weeks replayed in his head like a reel he couldn’t pause: the way she’d cried over soup earlier that evening, overwhelmed by finally finding something she could eat; the quiet, tired smiles; the sudden need to rest her head on his shoulder whenever she got the chance. Dieter had brushed it off as just a rough patch—nothing serious, nothing that couldn’t be fixed with rest and time.

But now, hearing his father say it out loud, it all started to click. The missed meals, the strange cravings, her emotional reactions to things that normally wouldn’t faze her. It was like putting together a puzzle he didn’t even know he was working on.

“What do I do if you’re right?” Dieter finally asked, his voice low, tinged with a mix of fear and something else he couldn’t quite name.

His father took another sip of his coffee, considering his son carefully. “You talk to her. Find out for sure. And whatever the outcome, you handle it together. That’s what this is, Dieter. Marriage, family—it's not about knowing every answer. It’s about facing it together, no matter how unexpected it is.”

Dieter nodded, though his mind was still reeling. He didn’t know if he was ready for what his father was suggesting, but one thing was clear: he needed to talk to her. His dad’s words hung heavy in the cold night air, and suddenly, the easygoing world Dieter had grown comfortable in felt a little less certain. 

–

That night, back in their room at Dieter’s parents’ house, the tension lingered like a thick fog. They were staying for the weekend, and though the familiarity of the guest room usually felt comforting, tonight it felt like the walls were closing in. Dieter sprawled out on the bed, flipping through channels on the TV without really watching. His mind was a mess of half-formed thoughts, circling back to the conversation with his father, and he couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling gnawing at him.

She was curled up next to him, absorbed in her Kindle, but every so often, Dieter noticed her shifting slightly, like she couldn’t quite get comfortable. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, trying to figure out how to bring up what was weighing on him without sounding like he’d lost his mind.

“So, funny story,” Dieter started, forcing a lightness into his tone that he didn’t feel. “My dad has this theory. He thinks you might be pregnant.”

She looked up from her Kindle, her brow furrowing as she processed his words. “What? Where’d that come from?”

“Yeah, I know,” Dieter laughed, though it sounded more nervous than amused. He fidgeted with the remote, clicking through channels too fast to see what was on. “He’s been watching you tonight, noticing stuff. You know, the food aversions and all that. He said something about it reminding him of when my mom was pregnant.”

She blinked, staring at him like she wasn’t sure if he was joking or serious. “That’s… random. I mean, it’s just paninis and iced coffee. And I’ve been stressed, that’s all. I mean, I have an IUD.”

“Yeah, that’s what I told him,” Dieter said, shrugging. “I told him it’s not possible, right? But he kept going on about how those things aren’t foolproof and—”

She cut him off, her laugh sharp and a little shaky. “No, yeah, of course. It’s just… I mean, we’ve been careful. I thought…”

Dieter raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk crossing his lips. “Careful? Are we really?” He gave her a knowing look, recalling their many reckless moments. “I mean, I lost count of the times we said, ‘eh, what’s the worst that could happen?’”

She groaned, burying her face in her hands, but she couldn’t hide the grin peeking through. “Oh God, don’t remind me. You said it’d be fine because ‘science, baby!’”

“Yeah, classic me,” Dieter laughed, feeling the tension break just a little. “Maybe our ‘science’ needs some workshopping.”

They chuckled, genuinely amused by their own recklessness. For a moment, it felt like any other night, just the two of them joking around like they always did. But then the laughter faded, and the unspoken possibility lingered, nudging at the back of their minds.

Dieter hesitated, then set the remote down, his voice dropping to a softer, more vulnerable tone. “IUDs aren’t a hundred percent, you know.”

She didn’t say anything right away, her eyes locked on him as if searching for some reassurance he couldn’t quite give. Finally, she set her Kindle aside, pulling her knees up to her chest. “Do you think… do you think he’s right?”

The question hung in the air, too big to ignore, and neither of them moved. Dieter rubbed the back of his neck, his mind racing. “I don’t know, baby. But we could… find out.”

She nodded, her breath hitching slightly, and they didn’t wait to talk themselves out of it. The drive to the pharmacy was tense and quiet, but the nervous energy turned into something almost comical when they got inside. Dieter, trying to look inconspicuous in his cap and mask, accidentally grabbed a COVID test from the shelf and tossed it in the basket without looking.

She glanced at it, biting back a laugh. “Dee, unless you’re worried I’ve got a pandemic brewing, I think you grabbed the wrong kind of test.”

“What?” He squinted at the box, his eyes widening. “Oh, shit. I just saw ‘test’ and panicked. Could you imagine? ‘Congratulations, you’re… COVID positive!’”

They both snorted, trying to suppress their laughter as they swapped it out for a pile of pregnancy tests. “At least we’re wearing masks,” she quipped, trying to hide her nerves behind the humor.

Dieter nodded, their masks pulling at their grins as they paid quickly and slipped back out into the night. Back in their room, she took the tests into Dieter’s private bathroom, thankful she didn’t have to make the awkward walk down the hallway past his nephews, who were still glued to the PlayStation. Dieter paced the room, his anxiety growing with every passing second. He could hear the faint sounds of her moving in the bathroom—running water, the crinkle of plastic, the sound of her soft sighs—and each noise sent a jolt of unease through him.

He ran his hands through his hair, messing it up even more, his mind racing with a thousand thoughts. What if his dad was right? What if they were really about to become parents? He didn’t know how to do this—any of it. He wasn’t cut out to be a dad. Hell, he could barely take care of himself most days. But then he thought about her, about the way she used to talk about wanting a family, back in the early days of their friendship, years before they got married. She’d share those dreams in the quiet moments when they were lying in bed, late at night, her voice soft and wistful as she painted a picture of a life she wanted someday—one with kids, a messy house full of love, and mornings that started with chaos and ended with bedtime stories.

He hadn’t heard her talk about it in a long time, not since they’d crossed the line from best friends to whatever it was they’d become now. They hadn’t really discussed it after they got married, like the possibility had just been a footnote in their drunken Vegas vows, not something real. But Dieter knew she probably still wanted it, that deep down, those dreams hadn’t gone away, just tucked themselves into a quieter part of her heart.

And now, for the first time, Dieter let himself admit what he’d been denying all along—he wanted it, too. He tried to fight it, tried to tell himself he was still the same guy who didn’t want to be tied down, but the truth was, he’d settled down the moment he said “I do.” And now… he’s sure he’s ready to dream of that life, too. The one where they weren’t just figuring things out as they went but actually working towards something together, as husband and wife, as mom and dad.

Finally, the bathroom door creaked open, and she stepped out, her face pale and her hands trembling slightly. She didn’t have to say anything; Dieter could see the truth in her eyes. Without a word, he followed her into the bathroom, and there they were, lined up on the counter: five pregnancy tests, each one showing two clear lines.

Positive. All of them.

Dieter stared at the tests, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to find something, anything, to say. He could hear her breathing beside him, shallow and uneven, and he knew her heart was pounding just as hard as his. She swallowed, her eyes fixed on the tests as if they might change if she stared long enough.

She finally broke the silence, her voice small but steady. “It’s okay, Dieter. You don’t have to worry about it. I’ll… I’ll take care of it.”

–

Her words snapped Dieter back to reality, his brows furrowing as he tried to grasp what she meant. He watched her walk past him out of the bathroom, her movements brisk and determined, but there was a tremble in her step that made his stomach drop. She went straight to the dresser, grabbing her phone with a familiar sense of purpose. Dieter followed, his confusion mounting as she dialed a number with shaky hands.

“What are you doing?” Dieter asked, his voice edged with growing alarm. “Who are you calling in the middle of the night?”

She glanced at him but didn’t answer directly. “It’s fine, Dee. I’m going to take care of it.”

The line clicked, and a familiar voice filled the silence—one of her friends, an OB-GYN Dieter had met several times at dinner parties and gatherings. “Hey, I’m sorry to call so late,” she said into the phone, her voice tight but controlled. “I need another favor.”

Dieter’s heart sank as he heard the gasp on the other end. The doctor’s voice wavered, filled with concern. “Are you sure? I mean… are you really sure about this?”

Dieter watched her, still trying to catch up, but he could hear the tension in the doctor’s voice and the weight of what was being asked. She glanced at him, her eyes meeting his, and in that moment, Dieter felt like the ground was slipping out from under him. “I’m sure,” she said quietly. “I’ll wait for the prescription in the morning.”

She ended the call and set the phone down, her hand trembling. Dieter felt his shock morphing into a hot, simmering anger, his chest tightening as he tried to make sense of what he’d just heard. “What?” he asked, his voice rising, desperate to believe he’d misheard. “What prescription? Prenatal vitamins?” He was trying to hold onto some hope, clinging to the possibility that this wasn’t what it seemed, that she wasn’t about to make a decision without him. But deep down, he knew.

She sighed, biting her lower lip, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words seemed to catch in her throat. Dieter could see her knees wobble, and before he could process it, she was leaning against the side table, her legs barely holding her up. He rushed to her, guiding her gently to the bed and kneeling before her, his anger wavering as he saw the look in her eyes.

Tears streamed down her face, silent and relentless, and Dieter realized it was the first time he’d seen her cry in years. Not since her father had passed, not even when she’d broken up with someone he knew she had loved deeply. She was always so strong, so composed, but now she was trembling, and all she could manage were soft, broken apologies. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice cracking as she repeated it over and over. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Dieter’s anger melted away, replaced by a sharp pain that pierced his chest. He reached up, cupping her face gently, wiping away the tears that continued to fall. “Hey, hey, calm down, okay? Just… baby, please… can you tell me what that was all about?”

She nodded, her breath hitching as she tried to collect herself. The silence between them was tense, heavy with unspoken fears and the weight of what was happening. Finally, she spoke, her voice small and wavering. “I know you don’t want kids, Dieter. I’ve known that from the start, and I respect that. I love you so much, and I know I don’t say it often, but I do. I love the life we have together. And I didn’t… I didn’t want to ruin that.”

Dieter listened, the words sinking in, but every syllable felt like a sting. “You’re not ruining anything, baby,” he said, his voice softer now but still edged with confusion and hurt. “But you didn’t even… I mean, we didn’t even talk about it.”

She looked down, her tears falling faster now. “I was afraid to. You’ve always been so clear, and I didn’t want to make you feel trapped. I know kids were never part of the plan. I didn’t want to put that on you.”

Dieter took a deep breath, his mind still reeling, but he tried to keep his voice steady. “You’re not–Jesus…I understand why you feel this way baby…” he said gently, squeezing her hands. “And I’m sorry we never talked about it before, not even once. I know I said I didn’t want kids, and I thought that was it. But… then…” He sighed deeply… “W-we should at least talk about it before you go and get that prescription in the morning.”

She looked up at him, her eyes wide and glistening with tears, clearly caught between fear and guilt. “Dieter, I—”

“No, listen,” he interrupted softly, his tone calm but firm. “I want you to know that whatever you decide, I’ll support you. I’ll stand by you no matter what. But I need to know that if you go through with this, it’s because you want to, not because you think it’s what I want. I respect you, and I love you. And yeah, maybe I’ve always been afraid of having kids, but I also know you’ve wanted this. I’ve known for years, and I’m sorry we’ve never talked about it since getting married. But maybe… maybe now’s the time we should.”

She shook her head, biting her lip to keep it from trembling. “I don’t want to pop our bubble, Dieter. I’ve spent so long thinking that if I brought this up, it would be too much for you. You’ve said it before—kids are overwhelming, right? And I get it. Hell, the thought of it overwhelms me, too. But it’s different for you. I didn’t want to lose you. I love you so much, Dee. I love what we have. And I was scared that… that if I bring it up, it would drive you away.”

Dieter’s heart ached as he watched her, the weight of her words sinking in. “Baby, I’m not going anywhere,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. “But you can’t just… handle this alone. Not for me.”

She took a shaky breath, the truth finally spilling out in the soft, halting words she’d kept buried. “That’s why I got the IUD. A few months after we got married… after I found out I was pregnant. You were away in London for that shoot, and I was alone. And I—” She paused, choking back a sob as she struggled to get the words out. “I panicked. I was terrified of what it would mean for us, for you, for everything. So, I… I took care of it. I didn’t want to burden you with it, and I thought I was doing the right thing.”

Dieter’s face went pale, his expression shifting from shock to something more profound—hurt, confusion, and an aching sadness that he didn’t quite know how to process. His hold on her hands went slack. He hadn’t been there. He hadn’t known. While he was away, filming scenes and living the life he thought he wanted, she had been here, facing a reality that should have been theirs to share.

“You—” Dieter started, standing up, trying to say something but the words caught in his throat. “You did that… without telling me?”

She nodded, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I didn’t know how to tell you, Dee. You were gone, and I was scared. I didn’t want you to feel trapped or forced into something you never wanted. I thought it was better that way.”

Dieter’s mind raced as he tried to grasp what she was saying. He ran a hand down his face, cupping his mouth as he took in a long drag of air. The anger he’d felt earlier had melted into something more painful, something that cut deeper than he expected. He’d never wanted this, but now, faced with the reality that they’d lost something before it had even begun, Dieter felt a profound sense of grief for what could have been—and for what he still had a chance to fight for.

He swallowed hard, his voice breaking as he spoke. “I wish you’d told me. I wish you hadn’t gone through all that alone. I know I’m not perfect, and I know I’ve said a lot of shit about not wanting kids, but… I want you. And if you want this—if you want us to have this—then I want it, too. But you have to be sure. This isn’t just about me. It’s us, and we can’t keep pretending it’s not.”

She looked at him, her eyes searching his face for any sign of hesitation, but all she saw was the man who had always been there, even when they hadn’t known what the hell they were doing. Dieter knelt before her, his hands steady on her knees, offering her the quiet reassurance she’d been afraid to ask for. They were scared, both of them, but for the first time, it felt like they were scared together.

A heavy silence stretched between them, thick with the weight of everything unsaid. She stared down at her trembling hands, struggling to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over. Finally, she broke the quiet, her voice small and cracking under the strain. “I understand if you want a divorce, Dieter.” Tears began to roll down her cheeks again, and she looked up at him, and he could feel and see the pain and resignation in them. “I’d give it to you, you know. If that’s what it takes for you to live your truth. If it means you get to live the life you always wanted—not something complicated by a kid and a wife.”

Dieter’s breath caught in his throat, and he shook his head, trying to grasp the gravity of what she was saying. “What? No… what are you talking about? Divorce? That’s not—”

“I don’t want to trap you, Dee,” she interrupted, her voice quivering. “I never wanted you to feel stuck. At least if we divorce, I get to keep my baby, and you get to live your life. We both get what we want.” She said it with a heartbreaking kind of finality, her gaze dropping as though she couldn’t bear to look at him.

Hearing her say “her baby” like that shattered something inside Dieter. He could feel his chest tighten as his emotions boiled over, hot tears streaming down his face. “You think that’s what I want?” he whispered, his voice breaking as he tried to keep it down. They were still in his parents’ house, and he didn’t want anyone hearing this, but he couldn’t keep the hurt out of his words. “You think I want to live some half-assed life without you? Without… our baby?”

She flinched at his words, torn between the guilt and the love she still felt for him. “Dieter, you’ve always said—”

“I know what I’ve said!” Dieter snapped, his voice rising before he caught himself. He pressed a fist to his mouth, trying to stifle the sobs that threatened to break free. “God, I’ve been so fucked up. So caught up in what I thought I wanted, what I told everyone I didn’t want. I never… I never told you how much I love you. How much I need you. And now you’re willing to sacrifice everything because of me? Because I’m too much of a mess to communicate? That’s not fair, baby. That’s on me.”

She looked away, blinking back tears as she tried to keep her voice steady. “It’s not about blame, Dieter. I can’t live with the guilt of not giving you the chance to have the life you deserve. I’d rather… I’d rather set you free than see you stuck in something you don’t want. I love you too much for that.”

Dieter shook his head, his shoulders slumping as the enormity of her words hit him. He didn’t know how to make her understand. “But I don’t want to be free,” he said, almost pleading. “I don’t want any of this without you. I’ve spent my whole life running from everything—commitment, responsibility, you name it. But not you. Not us. You… you made me realize I could be more than that.”

She listened, her heart breaking with every word. “I don’t want to be unfair, Dee. I’ve spent so long dreaming about this—about being a mom. And I know kids were never part of your dream, and I just… I don’t want to take that from you.”

Dieter wiped his eyes, his voice hoarse and desperate. “You’re not taking anything from me. Please, don’t do this. Don’t make decisions for me. You’ve always been my partner, my equal… baby, you make me want to be a better person… whatever the hell that looks like…”

She let out a shaky laugh through her tears, reaching up to cup his face. “I just… I didn’t want to pop our bubble. It’s been so perfect, even with all the chaos. And the thought of losing that, of losing you in such a way… it scares me more than anything.”

Dieter’s sobs turned to quiet laughter, a broken sound that mirrored the bittersweetness of the moment. “You think I’m not scared? I’ve been scared of fucking everything my whole life, and you were the one person who made me think I didn’t have to be. You’re my team, baby. We’re a damn good one. And I know that if we have this kid… our kid… we’d be amazing parents, too.”

She looked at him, her tears finally slowing, replaced by a fragile smile that made Dieter’s heartache. “I just don’t want to be unfair,” she whispered, her voice soft but sincere.

“You’re not being unfair,” Dieter said, his tone tender but firm. “Please, just… reconsider. Our relationship, our marriage… our baby. Let’s figure it out together. No more guessing what the other person wants.”

She nodded, her eyes locking with his, and for the first time since the night had started, she felt a glimmer of hope. They were both terrified, still reeling from everything that had come to light, but at least now, they were facing it together, no more secrets, no more hiding. Just the two of them and the uncertain but hopeful future with a baby they were ready to build.

–

The next morning was Christmas, and despite the whirlwind of emotions that had unfolded the night before, Dieter and his wife had decided to keep their news to themselves for now. It was too early—too new, too precious, and far too complicated to try to explain just yet. They put on their best smiles, exchanged gifts with his family, and managed to get through the morning without giving anything away.

As soon as they left his parents’ house, they headed straight to her OB-GYN’s office. Dieter squeezed her hand in the waiting room, both of them tense but trying to stay calm. When the doctor finally confirmed the news—they were eight weeks along—it felt both real and surreal at the same time. They were both relieved and overwhelmed, knowing it was still too early to tell anyone, too early for announcements, but their hearts were already full of the possibility.

Back at their house, Dieter immediately started making little changes, moving things around and insisting on turning one of the guest rooms into a nursery. “This room gets the best light,” he said, gesturing animatedly as they stood in the empty space, still filled with random furniture and boxes they hadn’t sorted through. “We can do a crib over here, maybe a rocking chair by the window… Oh, and I saw this thing on Pinterest—don’t laugh—about these little wall decals, like stars and moons. We could do a whole sky theme.”

She watched him, leaning against the doorframe, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “I didn’t even know you had a Pinterest account.”

Dieter turned, shrugging sheepishly. “What? I like my aesthetics.”

She laughed, her heart swelling at the sight of him so invested. It was like watching a kid with a new project, and she couldn’t help but feel a little lighter. “You’re really into this, huh?”

He looked at her, eyes sparkling with an excitement that was infectious. “Yeah, I am. What’s so funny?”

She shook her head, still smiling. “Nothing, it’s just… I never thought I’d see the day when Dieter Bravo is this excited about becoming a dad.”

Dieter’s expression softened, and he crossed the room, wrapping his arms around her. “Well, get used to it, baby. I’m all in.”

As the days passed, they began to settle into this new phase of their life together, their once spontaneous and free-spirited existence slowly evolving without them even realizing it. They had always been people of the moment, living day to day with little thought of what came next. Before, their conversations rarely drifted beyond the present—they were about last-minute weekend trips, late-night takeout, or whatever wild idea Dieter would come up with next. The future was never really on the table, not in a serious way. They thrived on spontaneity, on the freedom of not being tied down by plans or expectations.

But now, there was a subtle but undeniable shift in the air between them. It wasn’t something they talked about directly, but rather something that quietly settled in, like a warm, comforting blanket. Their conversations began to naturally drift into what was coming, not just what was happening now. They found themselves talking about baby names over breakfast, Dieter suggesting offbeat, quirky names that made her laugh while she countered with more classic choices that she’d always dreamed of, being the writer that she is and her love for literature.

Dieter would randomly pull out his phone to show her baby gear he’d found online, everything from the practical to the absurdly adorable. “Look at this stroller, baby. It’s got all-terrain wheels! Imagine us taking the kid hiking. Okay, maybe not hiking, but, you know… walking down a slightly uneven sidewalk.”

She’d laugh, watching him with a kind of fondness that was new, soft, and overwhelming. She’d catch him in the nursery sometimes, hunched over with a tape measure, making notes and sketches of where things should go. He was planning—actually planning—and it warmed her in a way she couldn’t quite describe.

One afternoon, she found him kneeling on the floor, surrounded by paint samples and wallpaper swatches, muttering to himself about whether to go with the pale blue or the pastel purple. “I don’t know, do you think clouds are too cliché? What if we did something more abstract? Like a sky, but, like, artsy. You know, like, dreamland stuff.”

She leaned against the doorframe, a smile playing at her lips. “Dieter Bravo, debating interior design for a nursery. Who would’ve thought?”

He looked up, his grin boyish and bright. “I know, right? Next, I’ll be on HGTV. ‘Bravo’s Baby Rooms.’ It’ll be a hit.”

She rolled her eyes, but her heart swelled with something deeper. They were still them, still the same pair who’d decided to get married on a whim in Vegas, who’d spent years living in the moment and rarely looking ahead. But now, the future wasn’t something scary or overwhelming. It was something they were building together, brick by brick, conversation by conversation.

Sometimes, in the quiet moments, she would find herself lying awake at night, her hand resting on the small swell of her belly, feeling the gentle flutters of life within her. Dieter would be next to her, snoring softly, and she’d just listen, soaking in the warmth of their home. She realized then how much had changed between them—how they’d gone from two people floating through life, clinging to the present, to a couple that was starting to dream together. 

It wasn’t just about the baby, though that was the catalyst. It was the way their whole world had shifted, gently guiding them toward a future that felt bright and full of possibility.

Their once spontaneous, fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants relationship was evolving into something richer, something that made space for plans and hopes. She’d catch Dieter browsing parenting books or obsessively researching the best baby monitors, and each time, she couldn’t help but feel a surge of love she hadn’t quite known before.

It wasn’t forced or awkward; it was the most natural thing in the world, like breathing. They were still the same Dieter and his wife, the quirky mystery novel writer—impulsive, playful, unorthodox in every way—but now, their lives together carried an undercurrent of something… warmer, softer, and a little more planned than usual. 

One evening, she was curled up on the couch, cozy under a thick, soft blanket, her Kindle in one hand and the other resting gently on the small but noticeable bump of her belly. She’d grown accustomed to the comforting weight of her growing child. Dieter strolled in from the kitchen, carrying a bowl of popcorn, and dropped onto the couch beside her with a contented sigh.

“You look way too comfortable,” she teased, nudging him playfully with her foot, a smile tugging at her lips as she watched him sink into the cushions like he belonged there.

“I am,” Dieter said, settling in beside her and resting his head against her shoulder. He let out a contented sigh, his eyes drifting down to her bump, and his hand found hers, resting warmly over the swell of her belly. “I love this. I love everything about this.”

She chuckled, her fingers absentmindedly tracing soft circles on her belly, feeling the little flutters of movement beneath her skin. “You always loved kids, Dee. I know that. I just… I never thought I’d live to see the day when you’d actually be a dad.”

Dieter’s smile softened, and tears welled in his eyes as he scooted closer, wrapping his arms around her and pressing his face into her chest. She could feel the quiet, vulnerable sobs shaking his shoulders, and it melted her heart. “You’re making my deepest, darkest dreams come true, baby,” he mumbled, his voice muffled by her warmth, words spilling out with raw sincerity.

She laughed, tilting her head back as she ruffled his hair affectionately. “I thought your deepest, darkest dreams that I made come true involved a strap-on, Bravo.”

Dieter snorted, lifting his head just enough to flash her a cheeky grin. Without missing a beat, he buried his face into her chest, playfully motorboating her. She squealed, swatting at his head as they both dissolved into laughter, tangled together on the couch.

“God, you’re such a perv,” she giggled, half-heartedly pushing him away even though she was laughing too hard to mean it.

He finally pulled back, grinning unapologetically as he reached up and cupped one of her breasts, squeezing playfully. “Honk honk,” he said, eyes twinkling with mischief.

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head but unable to keep a straight face. “Dieter, you’re ridiculous.”

“I know,” he said, still chuckling as he leaned in to kiss her softly. 

“I love you, mama.” He whispered against her mouth. 

–

As days turned into weeks, they found themselves back at the doctor’s office for the 20-week scan. The drive there was tense, filled with nervous silence and half-hearted attempts at small talk that did little to mask their growing anxiety. Dieter’s usually easygoing demeanor was replaced with restless energy, and she could feel it radiating off him as they sat in the waiting room, both of them on edge.

She sat nervously beside him, her leg bouncing up and down as she stared at the outdated magazines scattered on the table in front of them. Dieter glanced over, noticing the jittery movement. He nudged her lightly with his elbow, offering a crooked smile. “Babe, you’re bouncing your leg like you’re tweaking. Seriously, I’ve been around a lot of meth heads, and you’re giving me flashbacks.”

She snorted, covering her mouth as a burst of laughter escaped, her nerves momentarily easing. “I can’t help it, okay? This is… I’m freaking out.”

Dieter reached over, his fingers lacing through hers as he squeezed gently. “I get it, but you gotta chill. You’re acting like you’re on something, and trust me, I know that vibe.” He gave her hand another reassuring squeeze. “You’ve gotta stop reading all those Reddit posts. They’re nothing but horror stories.”

She nodded, though she still looked pale, her eyes flicking around the room as if searching for something to distract herself. “I know, I just… I can’t help it. I’ve read too many stories about 20-week scans going wrong. What if something’s wrong, Dieter? I don’t think I can handle it.”

Dieter leaned in closer, brushing a kiss against her temple. “Hey, nothing’s wrong. Our kid’s strong. Just like you. Baby’s gonna be fine, okay? Let’s just breathe.”

They were finally called into the scan room, and the doctor greeted them with a warm smile, chatting casually as she prepared the machine. “How are we feeling today? Ready to see this little one?” she asked, her voice calm and reassuring as she applied the cool gel to her belly. Dieter stood by her side, holding her hand tightly, both of them staring at the monitor with bated breath.

The doctor moved the wand over her stomach, her brows knitting slightly as she searched the screen, waiting for a heartbeat. At first, there was nothing—just static silence, the absence of that familiar, rhythmic thump that they both so desperately wanted to hear. The doctor adjusted the wand, repositioning and angling it slightly, her expression remaining neutral but focused.

Dieter could feel his wife’s grip tighten, her fingers digging into his, and he squeezed back, his own heart pounding. “Is everything okay?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, laced with fear.

The doctor glanced at them, her smile reassuring but a little strained. “Sometimes the baby’s in a tricky position so it’s hard to get the heartbeat. Let’s just give it a moment.” She moved the wand again, her eyes flicking between the screen and her belly as she pressed a bit harder, trying to get a better view.

But the silence lingered, and the tension in the room grew thicker. Dieter could feel his pulse racing, his mind going a mile a minute. He tried to keep calm, tried to joke, but his voice came out strained. 

“Kid’s already messing with us, huh? Definitely takes after me.”

It falls flat, and he frowns deeper. 

The doctor’s brows furrowed as she moved the wand slowly, deliberately, the silence stretching on until it was almost unbearable. “Come on, little one,” she murmured under her breath, adjusting the machine again.

She glanced at Dieter and his wife, reading the fear on their faces. “I know it’s nerve-wracking, but try not to panic. This happens sometimes.” The words were meant to soothe, but each passing second felt like an eternity, and Dieter felt like the walls were closing in.

Suddenly, the doctor paused, her eyes widening slightly. “Oh—hold on. I think I forgot to turn on the sound.” She reached over and pressed a button on the machine, and instantly, the room filled with the steady, reassuring thump of their baby’s heartbeat, clear and strong.

Dieter and his wife both let out a collective sigh of relief, laughing shakily as the tension broke. “Oh my god,” she breathed, her head falling back against the table as she squeezed Dieter’s hand. “You just shaved ten years off my life.”

The doctor chuckled, her face apologetic. “I’m so sorry about that. It happens more often than you’d think.” She moved the wand slightly, showing them their baby on the screen. “There we go. Heartbeat is strong, and baby looks perfect.”

Dieter let out a shaky laugh, wiping at his eyes as he glanced at his wife. “Kid’s already got us on edge. I guess that’s just payback for all the years I’ve been a handful.”

They all shared a brief, much-needed laugh, the tension slowly melting away. But the doctor’s expression turned a bit more serious as she continued to move the wand, examining the screen with careful precision. She began marking key areas on the screen, capturing images and making notes as she went. “Now, remember, this is your 20-week scan,” she said, her tone gentle but factual. “This is an important one because it’s when we check for congenital anomalies. We’ll be looking closely at your baby’s organs and development to make sure everything is on track.”

Dieter and his wife nodded, their earlier relief tempered by the weight of what the doctor was saying. This wasn’t just about hearing the heartbeat; it was about seeing if their baby was healthy, if everything was developing the way it should. The room fell quiet again, the soft whir of the machine the only sound as the doctor carefully scanned each part of their baby’s tiny body, capturing and saving images to review.

“We’re looking at the brain and skull,” the doctor explained, pointing to the image on the screen as she took a snapshot. “The structures look well-formed, and everything is measuring normally.” She moved the wand again, pausing over the baby’s chest and marking the image. “And here’s the heart. We’re checking for proper function, looking at the chambers and blood flow. So far, everything looks great.”

Dieter squeezed his wife’s hand, the feeling of both awe and anxiety filling the cavity of his chest. Every tiny movement on the screen felt monumental, every word from the doctor a lifeline. The doctor continued, showing them the spine, the kidneys, the limbs—every detail scrutinized with care and captured for documentation.

“And here’s the stomach and the diaphragm. We’re looking for normal positioning and function,” she said, moving methodically, her voice steady and calm. “All good signs here.” She took another image, marking it on the screen with a series of measurements.

Dieter’s wife squeezed his hand, her eyes locked on the screen, watching their baby’s tiny fingers flex and curl. “Is that… is that the baby’s hand?” she asked, her voice soft, filled with wonder.

“Yes, it is,” the doctor smiled, zooming in on the tiny hand and capturing the image. “Five fingers, all accounted for.”

They watched in silence, their emotions swinging from relief to fear and back again with every scan of the baby’s developing organs. The doctor’s voice was steady, reassuring them as she checked for any signs of congenital anomalies. Each confirmation that everything was normal felt like a small victory, a breath they didn’t realize they were holding.

“Everything looks normal and healthy,” the doctor finally said, pulling back and saving the last image. “Your baby is developing beautifully.”

Dieter and his wife both let out breaths they hadn’t realized they were holding, their hands still clasped tightly together. It wasn’t just relief—it was gratitude, to the doctor and the universe, for keeping their little bun healthy. 

They thanked the doctor, their voices filled with a concoction of relief, exhaustion, and overwhelming joy. As they left the office, they felt lighter, buoyed by the knowledge that their baby was safe and thriving. There’s only one thing for them to do now: start telling their family and friends. 

–

“You okay?” Dieter asked, his voice gentle as they pulled into his parents’ driveway. The house looked warm and welcoming, draped in fairy lights that twinkled against the evening sky, but she couldn’t quite shake the tightness in her chest.

She nodded, but it was automatic, her mind racing with thoughts she hadn’t fully processed, and her tears just started spilling like clockwork. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just… it’s a lot, you know? Your parents are going to be so happy, and I—I don’t have that anymore. I don’t have anyone to tell.” She tried to laugh it off, her voice catching slightly, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. “God, listen to me. I’m such a mess. It’s probably just hormones.”

Dieter squeezed her hand, his expression softening. He knew how much she missed her dad, how his absence lingered in moments like these. “It’s not just hormones, baby,” he said gently, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “You’re allowed to feel this. I wish your dad was here, too. I think about it all the time—how proud he’d be, how he’d probably be spoiling you right now.”

She let out a shaky breath, “It’s stupid, but it just hit me today, you know? Like, he was the only family I had, and now… I guess I thought I was past all this. But it’s different now. This is so big, and I feel like I’m missing that piece.”

Dieter pulled her hand up, kissing her knuckles softly. “It’s not stupid. And you’re not without parents completely. My parents love you—hell, they might love you more than they love me. They text you more than they text me, anyway.”

She let out a laugh, and it felt good, a brief moment of lightness breaking through the weight in her chest. “They do, don’t they? They’re always sending me recipes, cute cat and dog vides, and asking for book recommendations. Meanwhile, you get the ‘how’s your liver?’ texts.”

Dieter grinned, happy to see her smile even through tears. “Exactly. Trust me, they’re going to be over the moon about this. You’re their family, too. And yeah, it’s big—it’s bigger than anything we’ve done—but you don’t have to carry that alone. My parents, they’re gonna be here, every annoying, loving step of the way.”

She squeezed his hand, feeling a little more grounded. “Thanks, babe. I needed that.”

Dieter nodded, his own emotions bubbling under the surface. He knew how hard this was for her, and he wanted to make sure she never felt like she was alone in this. “Hey, we’re in this together. And we’re about to make their year, so let’s go in there and give them something to celebrate.”

They stepped out of the car, hand in hand, and walked up to the front door. She adjusted her coat, feeling the weight of the moment settle in her chest, but Dieter squeezed her hand reassuringly. They’d been parked for a while, gathering themselves, and now it was time. Dieter knocked, and within seconds, the door swung open.

Dieter’s mother stood there, her expression a mix of concern and relief. “Oh, there you are! We were starting to get worried—you’ve been sitting out there for ages. I thought maybe something was wrong.”

“Everything’s fine,” Dieter assured her, giving her a quick hug. “We were just… talking.”

His mom nodded, though she kept glancing between them, still a little uncertain. “It’s so good to see you two! Come in, come in.”

Dieter’s father was in the living room, setting out coffee and cookies on the table. He looked up, grinning in his usual dry way. “Hey, you two. What’s this? I thought you’d be busy writing another bestseller or maybe dragging Dieter around to get some culture.”

Dieter laughed, shaking his head. “Well, it’s not that, but it’s something just as good.”

His wife exchanged a quick look with him, her nerves sparking up again. Dieter, sensing her hesitation, gave her an encouraging smile and gently reached up to help her with her coat. As he slipped it off her shoulders, he draped it neatly over the back of the couch, revealing the gentle curve of her growing bump.

His parents’ eyes widened, and for a second, they both just stared, taking it in. Dieter’s mom’s hand flew to her mouth, her eyes brimming with tears. “Oh my gosh… are you…?”

Dieter’s wife nodded, her voice trembling with a mix of nerves and joy. “We’re having a baby. I’m pregnant.”

For a moment, there was only stunned silence, and then his mom let out a joyous cry, rushing forward to hug her. “Oh, sweetheart! This is the most wonderful news! Look at you—how far along are you? I can’t believe it!”

Dieter’s dad, who usually kept his emotions under wraps, pulled Dieter into a hug, his voice thick with pride. “Son, this is incredible. I can’t tell you how happy I am for you. I’m not sure if you remember this, but there was a time when I wasn’t sure you’d ever get your life together, let alone settle down.”

Dieter blinked, caught off guard by his dad’s words. “Thanks, Dad. That means a lot.” He hesitated, swallowing hard before speaking again. “I know I’ve been a mess, but… I’m really excited about this. I want to do it right.”

His father clapped him on the shoulder, his expression warm. “You’ve already done right by me. You’ve grown up, Dieter, more than I ever thought possible. And now you’re going to be a dad. I couldn’t be prouder.”

They all settled into the living room, Dieter’s mom already buzzing with plans. “Okay, so tell me everything! When’s the due date? How are you feeling? Have you thought about names yet? We have to start planning—oh, and the nursery! We’ll need to paint, get a crib—”

Dieter held up his hands, laughing. “Mom, slow down. You’re going to choke yourself on your own saliva with how fast you’re going. One thing at a time.”

She laughed, waving him off but nodding. “Okay, okay. But this is just… it’s all so exciting. I’ve been waiting for this day for so long, and now it’s finally happening.”

Dieter’s wife smiled, feeling the warmth of Dieter’s mom’s excitement wash over her. “Thank you. Really, I’m so glad we get to share this with you. It’s been a lot to take in, but having you both here means the world.”

Dieter’s mom squeezed her hand, her eyes filled with emotion. “You’re not without parents completely, you know that, right? You’ve got us now. We’re going to be right here with you, every crazy, wonderful moment.”

She nodded, fighting back tears. “I’m so grateful for that. You have no idea.”

Dieter’s dad leaned in, his voice quieter but no less heartfelt. “And I mean it, Dieter. I see the way you are with her, how much you’ve grown. You’ve got this, both of you. And I know you’re going to be amazing parents.”

As they continued to talk, laugh, and make plans, one thing stood out among them– they knew there was so much ahead—so many unknowns, so many firsts—but for now, it was enough to just be together and celebrate this beautiful news.

–

After spending a few hours basking in the joy and warmth of Dieter’s parents, they knew the next step was sharing the news with the rest of the world. It felt like another hurdle, one they were both eager and anxious to jump. They drove back home, feeling the weight of their secret beginning to lift. 

Once they were settled on their couch, they knew it was time to tell Dieter’s manager. Dieter pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts, glancing over at his wife. “Ready?”

She nodded, though a nervous flutter still twisted in her stomach. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”

Dieter hit the call button, putting it on speaker. His manager picked up on the second ring, his voice chipper and businesslike. “Dieter, my man! What’s up? You ready to talk about the next big project? We’ve got offers coming in like crazy.”

Dieter laughed, exchanging a look with his wife. “Hey, uh, about that… we’ve got something to tell you. It’s kind of a big deal.”

There was a brief pause on the other end, and then his manager’s voice dropped, curious and cautious. “Oh God, are you in trouble again? Do I need to get a lawyer on the line?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” Dieter said quickly, his grin wide. “Actually, it’s the opposite of trouble.”

His wife jumped in, smiling as she spoke. “We’re having a baby.”

The line went quiet for a beat, and then his manager erupted in a cheer. “What? Oh my God! Are you serious? This is amazing! Bravo’s having a baby! You two, this is incredible.”

They laughed, feeling the enthusiasm radiating through the phone. “Yeah, we’re serious,” Dieter said. “We’re excited, and we wanted to let you know before it goes public.”

His manager was still buzzing, the excitement palpable. “You’re going to break the internet with this. But listen, you’ve got to be prepared. This is going to be huge news—your fans, the media, everyone’s going to go nuts. Some good, some bad, you know how it is. But honestly, this is the best news I’ve heard all year.”

They chatted for a few more minutes, exchanging congratulations and discussing the logistics of managing the media frenzy that would inevitably follow. Once they hung up, Dieter turned to her, his eyes bright. “You ready to tell the world?”

She nodded, and together, they crafted a simple but heartfelt post for social media. They chose a candid photo taken that morning, with Dieter’s hand resting protectively over her small bump, both of them smiling with unfiltered joy. The caption read: Our greatest adventure yet. Baby Bravo coming soon.

They hit ‘share,’ and within moments, the post began to explode. Likes, comments, and shares flooded in at a speed that was almost overwhelming. Messages of congratulations poured in from friends, fans, and fellow celebrities. The overwhelming support was heartwarming, and they found themselves caught up in the happiness of it all.

But as the notifications kept coming, there were, of course, some that stung. Dieter scrolled through, his brow furrowing at the inevitable wave of negativity from the corners of his fanbase that couldn’t handle change.

“She’s probably just using him for fame. Classic.”

“Guess Dieter’s fun days are officially over.”

“He doesn’t deserve this. What about all the times he said he didn’t want kids?”

Dieter sighed, shaking his head as he turned off the screen. “I knew there’d be some backlash, but damn. People can be ruthless.”

She took a deep breath, trying to keep her own emotions in check. “I mean, I expected some of it, but it still hurts. I just thought… I don’t know, that people would be happy for us.”

Dieter pulled her into his side, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Hey, don’t let them get to you. They don’t know us. They don’t know what we’ve been through to get here. This is our moment, not theirs.”

She nodded, leaning into his comfort. “I know, it’s just… I guess I didn’t expect people to be so… mean. I thought this would be different.”

Dieter kissed her temple, his touch gentle. “Some people will never be happy, babe. But look at all the love we’ve got here.” He pulled up the comments from their closest friends, the ones who knew them beyond the headlines. Messages of support, love, and shared joy filled the screen, reminding them of the people who truly mattered.

“Look at this one,” Dieter said, reading aloud. “‘I always knew you’d be the best parents. Baby Bravo is lucky to have you both.’” He smiled, scrolling down. “And this one—‘I’m so proud of you guys. Can’t wait to meet the little one.’”

She smiled, letting the warmth of those messages push away the sting of the negativity. “I guess we have to focus on that, huh?”

“Exactly,” Dieter said, squeezing her close. “This is our family. Our life. And no one gets to take that away from us.”

They spent the rest of the evening curled up together, ignoring the noise of the outside world and focusing on the love that poured in from those who truly understood. Their phones continued to buzz, and the news spread quickly, but for now, it was just the two of them, dreaming about their future with the baby they were already so deeply in love with.

A few weeks had passed since their announcement, and life had begun to settle into a new kind of normal. 

They were still receiving messages of congratulations, along with the occasional snarky comment, but the love outweighed the negativity by miles. 

Dieter and his wife had embraced this next phase with open hearts, pouring over baby books, setting up the nursery, and spending quiet moments together, dreaming about the future.

One night, as they sat in the nursery—still half-finished, with paint samples and swatches scattered everywhere—Dieter was busy assembling a crib, grumbling softly as he fumbled with the instructions. His wife sat cross-legged on the floor, watching him with a soft smile, one hand resting on her belly.

“Are you sure you don’t want to wait for your dad to help with that?” she teased, noting his intense focus and the stray bolts lying around.

Dieter looked up, smirking. “Nah, I’ve got it. Besides, I’ve got to prove I can put something together that’s not going to collapse on us. I mean, it’s literally a crib. If I can do this, I can do anything.”

She laughed, watching as he finally managed to fit the pieces together, looking far too proud of himself. He stood back, admiring his handiwork before turning to her, his smile broad and genuine. “See? Told you I’d figure it out.”

She patted the spot beside her on the floor, and he sat down, pulling her into his side. They sat there quietly for a moment, both gazing at the crib—the first tangible piece of their new life together.

“Can you believe this is happening?” she murmured, her voice soft with wonder. “Sometimes it still feels like a dream.”

Dieter nodded, his hand drifting to rest over her bump. “Yeah, I know. I’ve been in a lot of weird dreams, but this… this is the best one. And it’s real.”

She leaned her head on his shoulder, feeling the steady thump of his heartbeat against her cheek. “We’re going to be okay, aren’t we?”

He turned to kiss her forehead, his lips lingering for a moment. “We already are, baby. And it’s only going to get better.”

They stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in the promise of what was to come—messy, beautiful, and entirely theirs.

[sirius-blacks-eyeliner]

Hi! So I have been writing for a little over a year (mostly drafts although I do have one story on wattpad which we do not speak of) and I've been a little lost recently. I hope that by writing oneshots, headcannons, drabbles etc. I might get inspired again to continue writing whole books.

So, I hope someone or some people might send me requests after I've posted this:))

I will be comfortable writing for:

Jasper Hale (twilight)

Rosalie Hale (twilight)

Emmett Cullen (twilight)

Legolas (Lord of the Rings)

Aragorn (Lord of the Rings)

Remus Lupin (Harry Potter, Maraunders era)

Sirius Black (Harry Potter, Maraunders era)

George Weasley (Harry Potter)

Steve Harrington (Stranger Things)

Tim Bradford (the Rookie)

Finnick Odair (The Hunger Games)

Soldier Boy(Ben) (The Boys)

Harry Hook (Descendants

Jon Snow (Game of Thrones)

I might add or remove characters from this list as I go on, but this is it for now.

I am only comfortable writing x fem!reader or x gn!reader for most of these characters are male and I don't feel like I have enough experience with gay relationships between two men to write it correctly and I really don't wanna offend anyone with this! Besides that, you are free to request just about anything except for:

-rasicm, homophobia, sexism or discrimination

-anything harmful

-incest

-smut (at least not yet I feel I have to become a little more familiar with it first)

Please request things! I'm very eager to start writing and hope people will enjoy it when I do!!:))

I hope this picture of a cockroach makes you feel joy

[sgiandubh]

This is a thank you, not an ask. I guess I would be classified as a lurker in the Tumbler world since I primarily only read what others write.  But I did make a comment to you once and you responded so you made me feel comfortable enough that I could send this to you.  Shippers have unknowingly been helping me stay sane these past few years.  My husband has Alzheimer’s with Aphasia and I have been his sole caretaker for a long time.  Having this responsibility is not for the faint of heart. One day in early 2019 I stumbled across Outlander and like a lot of others, was in, hook, line and sinker and Jamie & Claire and Sam & Cait became part of my daily life.  Last week I had to place my husband in a memory care facility.  It was an agonizing decision and I prayed for a sign that this was the right move.  As stupid as this may sound, I think my prayer was answered.  On the second day he made a friend.  His name is Jamie.  Only in the Outlander world would this have any meaning, but we've now got a sweet Jamie in our lives.  You may officially call me crazy.  Thank you to you and all the other shippers for all the smiles and happiness you've brought to me and many others. It kept me going.

Dear @jovialchaoslover,

By all means, do not thank me, even if I felt incredibly moved and honored by your submission, on behalf of the entire OL Shipper community. In fact, I should thank you, because for all those name calling and finger pointing Anons, you get to read something as genuine, moving and personal. These moments are rare and precious (and should remain so). They make you feel useful, in a very unexpected way.

You are one of those daily life unsung heroes and I want you to know that you are probably way stronger than you would ever think. I can only imagine the kind of experience you are now going through, even if I am (like many daughters, all around the world) only too aware of the cruelty with which old age sometimes disfigures beloved family members. I have only a remote idea of my own grandmother's quick descent into dementia and death, but I do have a very direct experience of the grueling toll it took on our family. Especially on my own mother, who let everything go and cared for her until the very last moment.

With the proper care solution in place, you will find yourself with a lot of time on your hands. A spare time you perhaps forgot existed. Please (I urge you) use it wisely and never forget this is all about you. You more than deserve it and the moment is now. I may know a thing or two about emptiness and void. They are incredibly enticing and treacherous. Please try and do something for you every single day. It does not matter if it is important or completely futile: it is about YOU and changing the angle will change everything. Remember the wonderful woman I am sure you are and try to reconnect with her. I can promise you she is not very far and I bet she misses you, too.

Last but not least, let me tell you that I will never call you crazy for having shared that Jamie story with us. I think it was very brave of you and I can confidently tell you it even has a name. What you experienced is called synchronicity and it is part of the tiny and personal magic of daily life. People as serious as Carl Gustav Jung dedicated their life to try and make some sense of this. And it all started with one of his patients (he was a shrink) describing a very vivid, recurrent dream of hers, that featured a scarab beetle. At the very same time, they both saw a scarab beetle (uncharacteristically) tapping on the window. The woman was not instantly cured (psychoanalysis does not exactly work like this), but it helped both of them overcome a very frustrating communication barrier.

That Jamie story is a real synchronicity, too, because it is meaningful for you and nobody else. It happened for a reason you are the only one to understand, in time. I could talk about it for hours and link it (as Jung did) with my beloved I Ching or with a couple of dead(ly) serious German philosophers, for some extra gravitas. But I am not going to over-complicate things. You got this. You are strong and brave and believe it or not, I am sure you are also loved by many.

I also think Caitriona Mary Balfe and Sam Roland Heughan should read your ask, finally understand their magic brought solace to many, many people around the world and get their damn act together for Season 8. But that is a different story altogether.

For the rest, if you want, we will be here for you. Me and probably other kind people on this side of the fence. Anytime you want, here or in DM. It may not be much, but it is something.

PS: that may or may not have brought a #silly tear, you know.

[rassicas]

My tags and other references

Pinned post. Please refer to this before sending me an ask! Note I don't answer every ask I get. I answer voluntarily and often on a whim, but sometimes I'll dig up months-old mail to answer.

First, an obligatory Splatoon Obscure Lore Reference Doc plug. Secondly, please don't DM me looking to start a general conversation about Splatoon or to ask me a Splatoon lore-related question. Put it in the ask box.

#asks is my general tag for asks, but it's a lot to look through. for more specific tags to see if what you want to ask has been answered already...

#splatoon lore - posts that include solid canon info. I'm a bit loose about tagging this.

#splatoon headcanons - posts that contain more speculative/headcanony info. I'm a bit loose about tagging this.

#splatoon translations - posts that involve JP -> ENG translations. I take requests if I find it interesting and reasonable.

#inkling language - posts related to the (deciphered) languages used within the splatoon world. I helped write this publicly available and editable page on inkipedia. I am begging you PLEASE look at the wiki page before asking me anything related to the Inkling language. You do not need to tell me if you've translated some small piece of text either, you can go ahead and add it to the wiki yourself if it's not already there. no im not doing it for you

#splatoon species - any talk of species beyond the standard inklings/octolings/salmonids goes here. NOTE: if you're wanting to ask "does X species exist in the splatoon world?" check the tag or PLEASE look at this list first because it will answer your question. if it's not on the list, it hasn't been mentioned in canon. If you have an ask about marine mammals in splatoon, I have a video essay on that. I won't budge on my stance that they're extinct.

#society - for anything related to society and culture in the splatoon world.

#biology - anything related to inkling/octoling/other splatoon creature biology.

#rotm #octo expansion - story mode-specific asks

#inklings #octarians #octolings #salmonids -species-specific tags

there's also character specific tags like #mr grizz and #off the hook ...ill have to clean these up later.

btw my art tag is #rassicarts. my main for posting funnies and anything not splatoon is @raptorials.

To askers: please note that sometimes I may end up coming off as blunt or rude in my responses. I don't want to be mean but there are a lot of people on the internet who try to talk to me, and sometimes, even to the nice people, I don't have the energy to sugarcoat my words. Please don't take it as ill will if I respond to you in this way. Thanks.

if your ask is just something nice, i don't reply to those, but i see them and appreciate it a lot. thank you

[nothums-from-tj]

Returning to my series of “barely anyone else cares abt this ship that I’m crying over so I’m gonna make a post abt them myself”: Mordeson edition

If you don’t like the ship please just fuckin scroll I don’t need anyone clowning today thnx

I have so many things I want to write and draw however I am so overwhelmed so I’m spewing my nonsense onto Tumblr to feed the like 3 people paying attention to these dorks <3 for the most part here are just like tiny little hcs/moments/ideas of them that have infected my brain. Cut provided to make it not unbelievably long for the rest of my followers

Categories: headcanons, ideas, “cutaways” (basically my iterations of what happens post-episode endings or in the midst of flashbacks/stories, between scenes, etc.)

I’d also like to thank @mushtoons for letting me yap abt them in DMs/on Discord, some of these in which I’m copy/pasting from my side of conversations with them <3

Headcanons:

-Mordecai sometimes patches up Benson’s hand(s) after usually breaking it by punching something out of anger on varying occasions

-the way they likely comforted one another during the Margaret, CJ, and Audrey heartbreaks with Benson probably gave Mordecai harder/grosser jobs to keep his mind off things and Mordecai gave Benson excuses to head home late to lessen the chances of bumping into Audrey

-the car radio along with show/movie nights consist of more bickering than watching/listening to anything

-Benson is the Worst backseat driver and Mordecai has to try to politely tell him he’s going to lose his mind if he tells him where to make the correct turn to both of their place of work; that said, for both of their sanity, Benson usually drives when they’re together

-there are days where Mordo has to literally force Benson to stay home bc he's either so sick he can hardly stand, so overwhelmed he can't think, or is in so much pain his body is practically crumbling beneath him

-sometimes when Benson gets reeeally into a beat, drumming on the steering wheel or a pen against his clipboard or something of the sort, Mordecai will try to start singing along to it so he’ll remember it for practice or whatever

-he has thrown hands over people trashing Benson behind his back

-and he has to semi-frequently talk/hold Benson out of a self-deprecating spiral

-Mordecai's parents absolutely adore Benson and were some of the first people to say "so when's the wedding!!!!" when first introducing him as his bf

-the opposite happened when Benson introduced Mordecai to his parents; I’d say his parents got divorced when he was young and his mom was kinda chill though his dad was kinda passive aggressive and just didn’t really put in a lot of heart, though Mordecai learned a lot more abt him from his dad than his mom

-Mordecai is the first to say “I love you” and Benson bawls on the spot

-Mordecai draws/doodles Benson during meetings/assignments when he starts to develop feelings for him

-Mordecai gets crazy flustered at pet names bc he doesn’t expect them whatsoever; he’s always been the one giving them rather than receiving, though he always appreciates them

-Benson is also crazy touch starved while Mordecai can be pretty jealous so usually in public they’re always seen touching in some way; one leg over the other when sitting, handholding when walking, an arm around the other’s waist/shoulders, etc.

-they prob hooked up at least 1 (one) time pre-relationship and swore they’d never tell anyone abt it

-Margaret and Mordecai are platonic soulmates as much as it is a dismay to most their romantic relationships; Benson is the first/only one of Mordecai's partners to fully accept this

Ideas (if anyone writes these before I get around to them pleeeeease please send it to me I’d cry /pos):

-swap AU of sorts where they have a secret relationship while Rigby and Eileen are more “center of attention”

-in addition, switching up Benson and CJ in a lot of scenarios make a lot of sense (specifically thinking of “New Year’s Kiss” and “Thomas’ Play Date”)

-Benson is such a little cuddle bug, Mordecai gets totally thrown off guard by how affectionate he is when they start dating

-Benson gets stuck having to watch his sister’s kid for the day while on the clock and as much as he loves seeing and hanging out w them he can’t do much while at work, asks Mordecai and Rigby to hang out w them for a bit until he’s done what he needs to and he later gets confused why his heart does weird flip-floppy things to see Mordecai being an amazing babysitter later

-Benson having a rough day mentally and asks to reschedule a date, which Mordecai asks if he’s ok and wants company which he doesn’t wanna “be a burden” or thinks Mordo won’t want to be around his sad self all day and he has to be kinda regularly reminded, “You’re my boyfriend, Ben. I always want you around.”

-Benson getting nightmares and/or flashbacks of the dome experiments and Mordo does his best to help through the severe paranoia and skittishness in the morning, unless he wakes up to it happening and he’s able to help him through it/get back to sleep

Cutaways:

-“In The House” Benson was nowhere to be seen until after Rigby finished his house/wizard story which Benson was like right next to Mordecai so I like to think Benson walked in early-ish into Rigby’s story and it’s Mordecai that beckoned him over to include him in the storytelling

-“Weekend At Benson’s” post-ending in which Benson maybe just felt too horrible to bring himself home so he hangs out at the house where Mordecai figures if he and Rigby feel awful already, Benson’s gotta be going through the same thing 10 fold so he sits with him all day doing his best to provide comfort and consolation while Benson spends half the day vomiting and sobbing from the searing pain in his throat

-“Eggscellent” after Benson getting punched, in which Skips probably had to be the one to tell Benson in private that while it’s ok for him to be scared and concerned and to feel betrayed and disrespected, what he said to Mordecai also wasn’t cool before explaining Jonathan Kimble and the journal he found; after apologizing to Mordecai he tries so hard to prove himself by being his biggest cheerleader, trying not to question the eagerness to be by his side and sudden overprotective urges

-“Return of Mordecai and the Rigbys” I think maybe a little bit too much abt the times they’re sent to the hospital and being the first two awake to have a few minutes to chat privately, and some of the dialogue I had in mind to not make this post even longer

-“Dumptown, USA” particularly when Benson went after Audrey broke up w him; maybe he left his phone behind, maybe he didn’t, and I doubt he was gone nearly as long as Mordecai, though he might’ve still been gone a few days to a week and incredibly hard to reach, leaving everyone else panicking over Benson not showing up to work to the point of sending a wellness check and getting ready to file a missing persons report by the time he comes back; Mordo’s the first to see him and instinctively runs to give him a hug, surprising them both

-“White Elephant Gift Exchange” with Benson being pretty OCD coded, similar to the first hc above following the “glove incident” where Benson likely washed his hands like 6 times to the point of cracking bc he didn’t feel “clean” enough (speaking as somebody with OCD and similar experiences)

This isn’t even remotely all of what I have this is just long enough already and I’m trying to figure out how I wanna execute the rest LOL. Anyway if anything here strikes inspiration feel free to write/draw/whatever and tag me bc I’m itching for more content of them I’m losing my mind <3 feel free to talk to me abt these dorks in DMs or my ask box too!!!!

[darklydeliciousdesires]

The Art of Pleasure, Part One - A Dom!John Shelby/Reader Two Part Story.

A little modern-day version, Dom!John, besties? Alright. Have at it!

(GIF credit - @bonniebirddoesgifs)

Words - 2,093

Warnings - Dom/sub dynamic, smut below the cut, minors DNI!

The art of pleasure is painted differently by everyone, no matter what tools they wield in their creation, it differs from artist to artist. Just as long as you remain the canvas, though, you’d let John Shelby create whatever the hell he liked upon you. You trust him enough to.  

This is imperative when stepping into the bedroom with a dom. The trust must be there.  

Some doms are hard, some soft. John is the perfect embodiment of both. He can push you to your boundaries effortlessly, yet you never feel unsafe with him. The razors edge of his balefulness is always softened by the tiniest touch of honey.  

The room you stand in alone has been prepared, everything in place, only the man himself missing as you stand, swathed in shadows and candlelight at the window. You sip upon a whiskey from the bottle of Johnnie Walker Black, the ice crackling in the glass, the feeling of all the hairs at the back of your neck standing up when you hear the door open.  

Your heart begins to jackrabbit, feeling him walk through the room, your back prickling pleasantly as it anticipates his body to arrive with you there at the window, looking out over the city lights below. Your skin gains heat as his hand slides around to stroke your throat, long, elegant fingers curling, his mouth pressing a kiss to your shoulder before his tongue glides up your neck.  

“You look fucking amazing.”  

Your body hums with the pleasure of his glorious praise. “Thank you, sir.”  

“Are you ready to give me exactly what I want?” 

“I am.” 

You see his reflection in the glass, his grin widening, turning you to face him. “Good.” He hooks his index finger into the D ring upon the front of your rolled steel collar, the ornate choker-style necklace he placed upon you long ago, signifying his rightful ownership. A tug pulls you close to him, John ghosting your mouth with his, tongue darting out to lick your cupid’s bow as he walks backwards towards the bed, seating himself.  

You stand obediently, knowing you must be still until he gives his command.  

“Down.” 

With effortless grace, you drop to your knees before him, the corner of his mouth twitching as he views you, finger still gripped tightly upon your collar. “You know what to do now you’re there, little kitten.” 

Indeed, you do. Your routine has been hardwired into you via his instruction, any deviation resulting in punishment. Sometimes though, it’s promise of reprimand that drives your desire with more fuel than your willingness to please. Shifting a little closer to him, your hands run up from his bare feet, over his black denim clad legs, reaching his belt and beginning to unfasten.  

“Ah, ah.” His brow furrows, shaking his head. “You know that ain’t the order we undress in, don’t you?” 

“I do.” 

His thighs widen invitingly as he nods downwards, his eyebrow rising a tiny fraction. “You know what happens when you disobey me. Arrange yourself.” Before you do, he finishes what you began at his belt, unbuckling and pulling it out with a swift tug, waiting expectantly.  

The arrangement he spoke of was for you to drape yourself across his thighs, face down, the feeling of his lean muscles pressing taut against your ribs and hips reminding you that his lap is the place you seek, your throne. It is the location where you feel queenly, although he is unquestionably the monarch.  

Grasping the lace of your undies, he yanks them, the black material bunching between your bum cheeks, exposing them to the stroke of his fingers. “You’ve been naughty, kitten. For that, you will be punished.”  

The sound of his belt buckle rattling as he doubles the leather over sends a bolt through you, John gripping the two ends together, the remaining loop of black hide meeting your bum in a hard smack a moment later.  

“No noise,” he instructs after you yelp, two fingers hooking beneath the back of your collar, giving it a little tug. “You’ll take it silently, kitten.” The leather meets your flesh again, leaving a mark behind, the crack of it against your skin building heat at your apex. The sound and the feel of it combine for the richest, darkest thrill.  

“Are you done being naughty?” 

“For now.” 

Your words cause the veil to break just a smidgen, John smirking at you, knowing full well how you thrive upon the reprimands. His face returns to an expressionless façade, nodding as you resume your position knelt between his feet. “You may continue, kitten.” 

Reaching for the buttons of his dark grey shirt, you unfasten them carefully, pushing it from his shoulders, your pulse quickening at the sight. You then grasp his jeans, popping each button upon the fly, pulling them from his legs, his boxers to follow.  

“Permission to please you with my mouth, sir?”  

He reaches for your face, thumb skimming your lower lip, lips that pucker a kiss upon it. “Granted.” With that single word of permission, you move astride him, your bum still stinging, swollen welts forming where you were struck. You begin at his neck, chartering his body with kisses, soft bites and little tongue teases, feeling him hardening against your hip.  

You can barely wait to set your mouth to gentle devour upon him, satin encased steel now jutting between your breasts as your tongue glides over the soft ridges of his abdomen, your hands evoking shudders as they stroke over his hips. Finally, your mouth meets his hardness, taking him fully back into your throat, feeling him twitching against your tongue as he grunts low and deep.  

“Slow down,” he instructs, a hand fisting in your hair, correction given with a sharp tug. “Don’t be so cock greedy, little kitten. I know it’s the most amazing one you’ve ever seen, but pace yourself.” His arrogance causes a flicker of fire in your chest, because it’s true. John Shelby does possess the greatest cock you’ve ever seen. He’s more girth than length, and for you that is perfect, your mouth gentling on him a little. 

Using your lips, you push against the tip of him, teasing his foreskin back, your tongue flicking over the spongy head beneath. He twitches against your lips, your mouth pulsing around him as you suck him slowly yet keenly, evoking his groans. That gravelled rasp; you’d truly do anything to hear it.  

“You look so bloody pretty, kitten, with a mouthful of cock. Nearly as pretty as you do when I’m splitting your sweet little cunt open with it,” he praises you with, his fingers still woven tightly in your hair. “I bet that’s what you want more than anything, ain’t it? Want me to lick you wet first though, I bet, suck on your clit until you’re dripping and then fuck you rough. Is that what you want, eh?” 

Oh, god. That filthy mouth. It'll be the death of you. “Yes, sir. That’s exactly what I want.”  

“That’s exactly what I’m gonna do then, beautiful. After I’ve fucked your mouth and made you swallow, though. Turn over.”  

You know exactly how he wants you, moving onto your back, propping yourself up on your elbows as he moves to straddle your chest, feeding his cock back between your blowjob-plumped lips, a sigh of exquisite gratification echoing through his throat. “Yeah, that’s it, my baby. You take it like a good girl, every fucking inch.”  

His hand once again grasps in your hair, keeping your head still as hips begin to sway, doing exactly as he said he would in fucking your mouth while his other hand moves back to begin gently stroking circles at your clit. “Wet for me already, kitten? Mmm, I like that. I bet you’ve been soaking since I cracked my belt over that beautiful arse of yours though, ain’t you?” 

Your mouth is much too full to reply, humming your answer with a wink as the tip of his cock nudges against your throat, saliva beginning to leak from the corners of your lips. Your nails rake over his chest, each thrust against your face becoming a little more forceful, until he’s descended into staccato motions, his orgasm gripping him. With your fingers pinching and twisting upon his nipples, you feel his cock jerk against your tongue before his low groan precedes the spill of cum down your throat.  

“Mmm, you took that so well, little kitten,” he praises you, wiping the corners of your mouth with his thumb, chasing the little tear trails from your watering eyes as he smiles down at you. “For that, you get rewarded.”  

Drinking his cum back is reward enough as it is, but make no mistake, you would never pass up the delight that is John returning the favour with his mouth. He wastes no time in teasing you with his sinful promise either, kissing his way over your body quickly before settling at your apex.

The first lick parts your petals, a drag of hot velvet laving at you, exploring slowly, nudging your opening until silky wet bathes the tip of his tongue.  

“You taste fucking incredible,” he grunts, each lick swirling around, avoiding the epicentre of your longing just enough to make you whine softly, full and needy. He withdraws his mouth, his hand moving to give your sex a little slap, tutting as he shakes his head. “Behave, no whining,” he instructs. “I know exactly what you want, but you have to wait for it.” 

“Yes, sir.”  

His tongue teases a line up your inner thigh, fingertips gliding over your saturated, puffy folds. “Good girl.”  

You bite your lip to prevent any further verbalisations of your utter pent up indignance, knowing that obedience shall see to it that he doesn’t tease you for longer than you can tolerate. He’s pushed you there before, made you beg, but now you know your need surpasses the desire to plead for it.  

Those warm, plump lips tease messy, open-mouthed kisses back down the warmth of your leg, sucking little purple welts onto your skin, the tip of his tongue running over the uppermost juncture of your thigh, the muscles beneath bouncing in delight. Once again, each lick bestowed avoids where you burn to feel them, dragging the petals of your cunt, dipping inside you, the honey of your hole bathing his tongue as he circles it before finally, he sweeps its warmth over your aching clit. 

Sparks skitter the tighter those licks become, his lips wrapping your bud in a firm suck, eyes finding yours, heavy-lidded and lust blown. His hands stroke adoringly against the soft skin of your upper thighs as he groans, long licks thereafter sending fever-hot pulses through your core.  

“Is that what you needed, kitten?” 

“Yes, sir. Oh god!” 

“Am I the best ever?” 

“Mmm, you are, sir. You’re incredible.” 

He releases your clit with a slippery pop, gently thumbing the hood back, making it stand out even further to the fever of his mouth. “Correct answer.” You can feel the heat pulling through your veins, your breath hitching as your lungs stutter then still, his tongue beginning to flicker rapidly upon your bud. Crying out, your nerve endings sing a serenade of bliss as they’re stroked against, John sucking you again before repeating it in alternating action. 

Your whimpers drive him on, his mouth becoming greedier, the prickle of stubble against where you are tender adding to the thrill of it, tingling heat blooming through you in a bonfire of pleasure. Swells of syrupy warmth roll over your spine as his fingers join his mouth, pushing into the saturated clasp of your cunt and curling, your body jolting as he bestows upon it exactly what it needs. 

Your back arches, your sex pressed tight against his face, his tongue wildly lashing at you as his fingers gain momentum, the tempo perfect. Your little cries fill the air as it comes glimmering through you, shining like the sun upon the waves that roll through your core, pushing you to your pulsing, burning unravelling. 

“That’s really made you burn for my cock, ain’t it, kitten?” he smirks, moving to kneel before you, hands stroking in tease up and down your still juddering thighs.  

“Yes, sir. I need you badly.” 

His grin grows, sliding off the bed, grasping two coils of soft, black bondage rope from the bedside table. “You’ll get it eventually, but first, I want you bound.”  

Part two coming soon!

[average-hyperfixator]

Hi. I'm here to learn everything about Aubrey, please infodump all you want about her using this ask. WHO IS THIS DIVA.... 💖💖💖

HOORAY HOORAY YIPPEE YIPPEE okay this is gonna be a long post, also brief cw/tw for suicide mention! It's part of her lore but I wanna properly warn people, stay safe chat

with that, alllll the info dumping is below!!!

AUBREY!!

updated ref image, only thing that really changed was her age- the original age sheet was made (I think) before I knew Ted's canon age (44 if we follow the game's backstory timeline for him. 19 when he met that woman (ew) 5 years in Europe and then 20 years of conartistry = 44). I wanted to make them closer in age + this makes more sense for her LOL. She was previously 29, now 37, improvements babyyy.

For some Pre-AM lore, she's Mexican-American (just like me fr fr) and became a nurse (previously had her as a doctor buuut I realized that wouldn't fit the time period as well. so, nurse!!) She's very happy about the career decision, she likes helping people, and she copes fine with any discrimination tossed her way. (one reminder that she controls their medication and people usually back off)

As for the reason she's wearing roller skates: she enjoyed sports a lot, especially roller skating! She was originally celebrating a minor promotion with some skating. And then the world fucking ended, oops. (at least she looks happy here)

Post AM lore: From what can only be described as several crisis' (mortal crisis, mid-life crisis, the works) she cut her hair and her clothes. She also thanked herself for having a single roll of bandages in one of her pockets. It wouldn't help much but it was something.

she falls. a lot. Downside of being stuck in skates for eternity; one pebble and it's over. She struggles a lot skating through rock, sand, mud, and ice. The roll of bandages came in handy here.

Those are more funny things I wanted to add before getting into the more angsty meat of her story, so HERE'S THAT!! While the 5 survivors were AM's experiment on human behavior when stuck together in harsh conditions, Aubrey was the solo test. What would happen to the human mind and body when completely and utterly alone, in a post-apocalyptic earth, stuck in the core of the planet, tormented by a machine? Well, AM didn't get the exact reaction he wanted. Aubrey already had a pretty high pain tolerance and seemed to like the loneliness for the most part. That second part became less true over time, we are a social species after all. She wanted other humans to talk to, she knew they were out there, AM always complained about them. But he never let them meet. Unfortunately for AM, Aubrey is smart. She didn't want to live this miserable existence, she didn't want to be this machine's doll, and so she made a plan. 50 years into everything, she made and carried out a plan.

Every day, slowly, she gathered a pile of rock, metal, and shrapnel, putting it in a pile. AM thought nothing of it. Why would he? It didn't look suspicious. That was until, on a small rock pile she amassed, when AM wasn't looking, when he diverted his attention onto the others, the others she was sure she'd never see, she jumped. Plummeting the left side of her body onto the pile, it shredded through her skin and broke some of her bones, causing harsh damage to many organs. She knew she'd bleed out, and had accepted that death.

AM would not allow such a thing.

Though he wasn't able to stop what happened, he was quick to act. Removing her limp body from the pile he immediately began to "fix" what was "broken." Snapping bone back into place, sewing up organs, hooking up wires to her heart to send electrical currents so it'd keep beating, moving wires to replace missing and ruined flesh- he couldn't save her eye, but he didn't mind it. It was a miracle her brain was almost completely undamaged, rattled sure, damaged? Not really. After some work, when she was in stable condition, he strapped a spare monitor to the left side of her face, the final piece of the puzzle.

She woke up, disappointed and confused. How the fuck was she not dead? AM explained it all, and noted the monitor was for surveillance. She'd never be able to pull a stunt like that again because he'd be able to stop her. She immediately tried to break the monitor, but then he told her about the wires attached to her heart. He could stop and restart it as he'd like, grant her the sweet release of death just to bring her back. She sighed. "Anything else for me you psycho?" "YOU'LL FINALLY GET THAT WISH OF YOURS."

AM sent her to the others. The other survivors. The 5. It took three days and two nights but she made it. The first impression was... rocky. No one trusted her. Especially one special paranoid, who immediately questioned if she was another one of AM's AI, sent to mess with them. She drew some blood from her arm to show she was, in fact, human. This only made them slightly less jumpy. Thus began her rocky integration

Now see the funny thing about her and Ted and the fact they eventually end up together.

They HATTTTEEED each other. For a decade. Ted's paranoia worsened around her, and she didn't feel like dealing with his shit. He was whiney, and always pointing fingers, and she'd always have a snappy comeback. Aubrey had even taken one of his roles, the youngest. Now SHE was the youngest, and Ted was terribly spiteful about that. One of the only things he had going for himself, gone. Not only, in his eyes, was she a disrespectful toy of AM's, but she was stealing his place. In her eyes, Ted was a bitchboy, and she couldn't fathom being that miserable. Thus a tension formed that didn't go away until...

One particularly bad panic attack. Ted was no stranger to these of course, and the group had grown accustomed to them. He'd scare himself half to death, run off, and usually Ellen would go get him. Aubrey never understood why she did that to herself. Until one day, she was the one who went. She didn't want to, no, but what the 6 had just endured was a particularly bad torture session. Ellen was busy calming Benny, and Gorrister and Nimdok were in no shape to try and comfort Ted. Reluctantly, Aubrey went looking for him. She made her way rather far, wondering how his skinny weak-looking legs carried him so far... and then she found him. Now, she had seen him messed up before, many many times actually. But she had never seen a proper breakdown of his. She wasn't a monster, she had empathy, and what person wouldn't immediately feel bad upon seeing a man curled up sobbing and shaking? Once she made her way to him, she did her very best to calm him. He was jumpy and hesitant at first, after all he still didn't trust her, but the comfort of another human was all he wanted at that moment. Well, it's kind of hard to see someone the same after they go limp in your arms sobbing, mumbling apologies and lamenting their current feelings. After who knows how long, Ted had calmed down, but was still shaken up. Aubrey still held him, comforted him, and ran her undamaged hand through his matted, dark hair. Safe to say something became much different between them after that. The air had shifted. There was less animosity, more openness. Ted was never open with any of the others, but something about having a blank slate, someone new to talk to- it made it a bit easier. Aubrey was just happy to be able to talk. They interacted more, talked more, and learned more about each other. They stopped despising each other and, well

LOVERS!!!!

The enemies-to-lovers arc completed after about 5 years of a song and dance between the two after that initial moment. The morale of the group boosted just a bit, because they were happy, and the others got some benefits from that; Ellen didn't have to deal with any of Ted's shit anymore, Aubrey basically took over on that front. And the others didn't have to sit through his paranoid ranting. All in all, it was beneficial.

AM hated it. Greatly. There was nothing he could do about it though. No matter how much he tried to fuel Ted's paranoia, no matter how much he manipulated Aubrey- they stayed together. He was furious that the morale of the team went UP. And seethed over the fact he couldn't do a damn thing. As for how the ending changes with her there; she's the first to die. Stab from Ted, right through her monitor, he couldn't risk AM stopping him and Ellen. It was quick, painless, through the skull and into the brain. Impaled to the ground when her corpse landed. After Ellen's death, he couldn't help but take one last look at her- her face was just as distorted from shock and pain, but he knew she was happy upon death. Her body jerked a few times when AM tried to revive her, no such luck. He regrets not being able to hold her. Aaaaaannnddd that's everything so far chat, I didn't go into how she interacts with the other five, but that can be delved into later. Consider this the big Aubrey info post, she is in fact a diva, thank you for the ask :DDDD

Yap sesh over, thanks to everyone who read this far!!!