#give me some tiiiiime

[littlecello]

Can you tell us about what happened in the script for the Lazarus table read please?? For those of us who couldn’t make it

Hello lovely anon! That was always my plan, and I have just done so :3 You can find it by clicking right here.

[slamminslamminmcgill]

all im saying is ✨Logan with a knot✨ and Wade overstimulating you bc you cant get away -🦐

shrimp anon more like shrimp COLORS bro your vision is INSANE!!!!!!

soooo idk conventional a/b/o rules and i kinda don't care so im picturing a heat cycle as once a month endeavour. and bc you're on T you're a HORNY motherfucker and you're angry and violent so it's basically whoever can get their hands on you or knot in you first will take care of you. then as long as you get bred at least once you're fine. then you calm down and it's big aftercare hours bc your post-heat clarity endorphins are going CRAZY

now since your heat only comes once a month, wade treats it as a special occasion. and it wouldn't be fair of him to do the honors EVERY month, now would it?

so even though he's home with you, and logan's not, and won't be for a while, wade wilson will refuse to fuck you. it's not his turn. he did it last month.

and your heat is MISERABLE. imagine the worst period cramp you ever had, combined with hot flashes, searing rage, and it gives your cunt the sensitivity of a fucking bear trap. you'll clamp down on anything that touches you.

so no matter how much you suffer. no matter if you scream, cry, beg, grovel, bite, or commit acts of gratuitous violence against him.

he will hold out.

he will hold out until logan gets home and finds you naked, cuffed to the bed by your hands and ankles, a chewy ball-gag in your mouth getting crushed by your gritting teeth, and wade's holding a wand vibrator to your cunt.

he waves gayly at logan, "hey pinkie pie, merry christmas! wanna come open your gift?"

"jesus christ, are you fucking torturing him?! the hell is wrong with you?!"

"with ME?! where's your holiday spirit?"

logan just stares at him blankly, puzzled by what this psychotic dipshit could possibly be talking about. in response, and in the spirit of the season, wade sings him a song.

"🎼it's the mooost wonderful tiiiiime, of the mooonth~!🎵"

now he gets it.

"oh... okay. so then why did you tie him down like that?"

"well, we had a little INCIDENT earlier..."

--

you had managed to grab one of wade's guns and shot him in the chest

"OW!!! you RESOURCEFUL little shit!!! GRRR, oh~ mysweetboybabydarling i'msoproudofyou, butnoi'mnot, BAD BOY!!!"

--

"no, i mean why didn't you take care of him your-fucking-self, wilson? you really gotta make this my problem as soon as i walk in the fuckin' door?"

"your PROBLEM?! i hand you some prime-time, limited-edition, hot and bothered, ripe for the breeding, tranny boy BUSSY on a silver platter, and that's somehow NOT where your dick wants to spend its evening? am i hearing that right? please tell me i'm not. please tell me you're not this stupid, pookie bear."

instead of arguing back, logan goes quiet. he's thinking. and then, he laughs. that low, husky laugh that you have when you're marveling at the nerve of whatever dumb motherfucker is talking to you. or maybe, when that dumb motherfucker is making a point.

"heh... y'know what? fine." logan angrily strips his clothes off, one by one. his tanktop, "you want me to be the one to knot him? huh?" his belt, his jeans "can't do anything yourself, can ya?" and lastly, his boxers. then he grabs his cock and shakes it at wade.

"so then get me hard, you faggot." he clicks his tongue twice. "c'mon."

wade throws himself at logan's knees and gives him that gawkgawk4000turbotyphoon treatment to get him up. logan sighs in relaxation, grateful that wade was putting his mouth to such better use. once his eyes flutter open, he nods at you, finally giving you even a modicum of attention while you're under intense distress, and he merely waves at you nonchalantly, like how a pedestrian does to a car that lets him cross.

"hang tight, bub. be with ya in a second."

wade works him over until his knot is just barely starting to swell. he then takes his fattened cock and slaps wade across the face with it.

"take his chains off."

"hm... are you sure you want me to do that, princess? he's feisty, y'know. might get yourself bit, if you're not careful."

logan slaps wade again, but this time it's a bitchslap, using the back of his hand. and his claws.

"take. his fucking. chains off."

"mmm, right AWAY, your majesty~!"

[gravehags]

enter lydia

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x f!Reader (Curator!Reader)

Rating: Teen

Tags: meet the best friend, reader being goofy as fuck, copia being incredibly anxious, real friendship talk, dinner parties, terzo being clueless

Words: 4,829

Summary: Your oldest, dearest friend and the love of your life. What could possibly go wrong?

a/n: reader backstory tiiiiime, copia's really in for it lol

~~~

“Hey hon?” you ask, poking at your boxed salad with your fork.

“Mmhmm?” Copia responds, currently distracted by trying to recover his pen which has fallen and rolled under the desk. You hear a telltale thump and him cursing softly, and when he emerges, his biretta sits charmingly crooked on his mussed hair. Briefly you forget what you were even going to ask him as he looks at you with a soft smile before getting off his knees and plopping back down in his seat.

“Oh!” you say, it coming back to you, “I wanted to ask you…can I have like…a guest here? Like a visitor?”

Copia blinks at you.

“Visitor?” he asks, baffled, “Amore, you are not a prisoner! Of course you can have someone come see you? Eh, who did you have in mind?”

Part of you wants to casually say “my parents” just to watch the color drain from his face as he stammers but you spare your love the agony.

“My best friend,” you say, halfway through a bite of lettuce, “Lydia? I’m sure I’ve mentioned her before. She’s um, going to be in the area for a work conference and wanted to spend a few days with me. I just didn’t know what the protocol was for that. I mean, Sister Imperator isn’t going to shit her pants is she?”

“Ah,” he waves his hand dismissively, “siblings’ families visit them all the time, why should you be any different? And we have nothing to hide. We would welcome her with open arms.”

Your shoulders sag in relief.

“Okay good, because she’s coming next week and I’m going to be honest with you, asking for permission was kind of a formality. I was going to do it either way.”

Copia laughs.

“Taking the ‘better to ask for forgiveness’ route, huh? I admire that. I suppose we won’t sacrifice her in some arcane ritual now.”

It’s your turn to laugh.

“Uh, I don’t know that you could handle that. She’s a fighter, through and through. She’d definitely kick your ass.”

He frowns and presses a gloved hand to his chest.

“Cara, you wound me. Are you implying that I could not defend your honor?”

“Cope, I saw Secondo grab your hands and slap you while saying ‘stop hitting yourself’ for ten minutes after you pissed him off at the last Uno night. Respectfully, you are a lover, not a fighter.”

“Oh, but what a lover I am, eh? Everyone else on your floor probably heard what I did to you last night hehe–”

“Copia,” you say, blushing as you stab a garbanzo bean, “you’re starting to sound like Terzo.”

He actually gasps at that.

“Fuck the thing about fighting, now you’ve really offended me, dolcezza,” he says gruffly, returning to his own lunch, “but please tell your friend she is welcome here. Any friend of my amore’s is a friend of mine.”

You smile tightly.

“I sure hope so,” you say under your breath.

___

Copia’s nervous.

He hasn’t been this nervous in a long time - probably since before the two of you started dating - and he can feel the sweat accumulate on his palms underneath the leather of his gloves. He looks over to you, excitedly bouncing on the balls of your feet. When you look at him, you give him a wide smile.

“Are you nervous?” you ask, reaching a hand out to cup his elbow. A rivulet of sweat rolls down his back under his cassock. He smiles. Nervously.

“No, no, of course not. You don’t look excited at all, though.”

You giggle.

“I haven’t seen her since I went back home for Christmas! And so much has changed since then. That was right before we got together. I’ve told her all about you, by the way.”

He chuckles weakly but in your giddiness you don’t notice his discomfort. A car pulls into the long driveway and his heart plunges into his stomach. You’re practically vibrating at this point watching the car come closer and closer until it’s pulling in front of the steps the two of you are standing on. You don’t wait for her to get out of the car, instead flying down the stairs to meet her at the door. When she opens it you let out a high-pitched shriek.

“Hold on, let me get out of the damn car,” he hears a deep, amused, female voice speak. The woman that emerges is…not what he pictured. She’s tall - taller than him (though Secondo would say that’s no feat), broad shouldered, and muscular. Her dark curly hair streaked with bright red is piled on top of her head in a bun and before he can make any other observations, you throw yourself into her arms.

“Hey, babygirl,” she laughs, pulling you in for a tight hug and kissing you on top of your head, “I missed you.”

“Missed you more!” he hears you wail as the two of you rock back and forth in your embrace. He fiddles with his cuffs, unsure of whether he should introduce himself now or–

“You must be him,” she says, her tone shifting entirely. Copia blanches.

“Yes! This is–c’mere,” you say, gesturing to him to come down to where the two of you stand, “this is Cardinal Copia. Copia, this is Lydia Morales, my angel and dearest friend.”

He bows slightly.

“It’s eh, a pleasure to meet you, signorina,” he says, reaching out his hand. Lydia looks down at it and takes it in her own. Giving him a tight smirk, she squeezes in a hard enough handshake that he lets out an undignified squeak similar to one of his rats.

“Pleasure’s all mine…Cardinal.” The slight sneer in her voice when she addresses him immediately lets him know that this is going to be a long three days. When she mercifully releases his hand he flexes his fingers in an attempt to get feeling back in them. Lydia’s shrewd, dark eyes stare him down, sweeping over his appearance.

“Um,” you say, clearly thrown by the tension between your lover and your friend, “L-let me help you with your bag, Lyd. There’s a guest room for you all ready.”

“No need,” Lydia says, walking over to the trunk and smacking it firmly. The ghoul, still in the driver seat, pops it and she hauls an overstuffed carry-on out as if it’s made of air. 

“Oh, making me swoon,” you say with a smile, nudging her arm.

“I live to please, doll,” Lydia smirks as the three of you head up the steps, “this is quite a place.”

“Isn’t it?” you open the heavy front door and usher everyone inside, “Lydia you will not believe the architecture and the art here, it’s Heaven!”

“Wouldn’t ‘Hell’ be more appropriate,” she says dryly, her eyes briefly flicking over to him. She brings her hand to her neck and fishes out a small, gold cross on a delicate chain from under her t-shirt. For the second time that day, Copia’s heart plummets.

“Haha, very amusing,” you turn to him, “My love, you don’t have to stick around if you don’t want to. You’re more than welcome to of course but I’m just going to get her settled.”

You must have finally picked up on his discomfort and he would kiss you right now if he didn’t think that Lydia would clock him in the face.

“Eh, I do have some things to attend to,” he stops, bowing slightly again to Lydia, “Forgive me, signorina. You will join us tonight for dinner, I hope?”

“Oh fuck,” you murmur, “I completely forgot - Copia’s brothers are hosting a little al fresco get together. You interested?”

Lydia nods slowly, smiling.

“‘Course I’m interested. I’d like to meet this chef you told me about - is he one of your, uh, brothers, Cardinal?”

“Sì, that is my brother Secondo. Are there any restrictions to your diet I should tell him about?”

“Not at all, I’ll eat anything that moves unlike this one over here,” she gestures with her thumb in your direction and you roll your eyes.

“I’m sure Secondo will be pleased to have a less picky eater join his gathering,” you comment then turn to him, “Alright then see you later?”

He nods, and when you approach to kiss to his cheek he does not miss the way Lydia’s eyes narrow.

“Eh, see you later. Ciao.”

He doesn’t breathe again until the two of you are down the hallway and round the corner out of sight.

___

“What do you think of your digs? Pretty nice, right?”

You plop down on the gilded loveseat in the little living room adjacent to the small bedroom where Lydia is currently unpacking.

“Real nice. This whole place is nice. Makes you wonder where they got the money.”

Your lips twitch downwards.

“It’s an old institution - as old as the Catholic church. You don’t ask them where they got their money.”

“Fair enough,” Lydia concedes, standing in the doorway folding a shirt. Her lips are held in a tight line and you know she’s holding back from saying what she really thinks.

“Tell me,” you say, leaning forward to rest your forearms on your thighs, “and don’t think I didn’t notice how fucking weird you were with Copia earlier, either.”

Lydia sighs and looks at you.

“Can I be honest?”

“Why are you even asking when you know you’re going to be anyway? Like I said, tell me.”

“He’s too old,” she says bluntly, and you recoil, “and he’s your coworker which is a whole other rat’s nest. This place is way freaky - I mean, a Satanic church? Girlie, I know you’re not picky about religions but–”

“And neither are you, so why is it a problem all of a sudden now that I’m involved with a member of one in opposition from your religion?”

Lydia sighs and rubs her eye.

“Because you’re my best friend? My best friend who calls me up one day and says ‘I’m in love with a Satanic cardinal who is old enough to be my father’ while being sequestered away from her family and friends for almost a year? Babe, tell me you wouldn’t be concerned if I had done the same. I love you and I love that you’re happy but I’m worried. Your parents are too, honestly.”

“You…you’ve spoken to my parents about this?”

“Of course I have. We didn’t see you for months before last Christmas and yeah, we’ve talked but I don’t know. Please tell me you understand why we’re concerned.”

“I’m in my fucking thirties, I’m not a child, Lydia–”

“Look me in the eyes and say you wouldn’t be worried if it was me.”

A beat passes. You chew on your bottom lip.

“Exactly,” Lydia says, sighing and walking over to sit down next to you, “Listen, I didn’t come here to be a buzzkill for three days, I came here to spend time with you. And you know I gotta scope this Cardinal Copia guy out for myself, huh? Make sure he’s worthy of an angel like you. Typical best friend shit, you know?” she nudges you with her body before wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You want to be mad but all in all…she’s right and you know it. Exhaling through your nose you lean into her while she toys with your hair.

“Please keep an open mind?” you ask quietly, “I know they’re spooky, scary Satanists and everything but…they’ve taken care of me all this time. Without Copia, I’m…” you sniffle, tears welling in your eyes, “I’m not even sure I’d be alive right now. You two are everything to me. Both of you.”

“Alright,” Lydia says softly, kissing you on top of your head, “whatever my girl wants. I promise I won’t grill him too hard.”

“Thank you,” you say, “you’re more than welcome to…I don’t know, suss out his intentions or whatever but remember that I love him. So don’t do that weird thing where you offer to crack people’s backs by picking them up around him or anything, okay? He’s already petrified of you.”

Lydia laughs and shoves you away.

“Hey fuck you, that’s my go-to party trick. Ladies love it.”

You roll your eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Are you done unpacking? I want to show this place off to you before we head to this dinner thing.”

“Let me freshen up and change clothes and I’m all yours.”

“Now that’s what I like to hear.”

___

“So, Terzo is the oldest one.”

“No, Primo is the oldest one. Secondo is uh…second, then Terzo, then Copia.”

“Shit, sorry. And they’re all Satanic popes?”

“Terzo is the current one, Primo and Secondo are…retired. And Copia’s a cardinal, you know that.”

“Right, right. Sounds like a lot of fucking dudes, just like the Catholic side. Where are the women at?”

“They’re around, trust me. Not sure if Sister Imperator is going to be in attendance tonight but she’s pretty high up there, I think. There’s a few female cardinals too but I haven’t really gotten the chance to know them outside of passing them in the hall. And then there’s the sisters too, I– Lydia, don’t.”

“What?” Lydia asks with a sly grin, waggling her eyebrows, “Sisters huh? You know I always had a thing for–”

“And you talk about me having a weird priest fetish?” you whisper, holding back a laugh, “Down, girl.”

As if on cue, two sisters - one wearing a tight miniskirt as a habit and the other in a long dress with a very high slit up the side - come out of one of the seminar classrooms. They smile politely at you but when they catch sight of Lydia, their jaws drop.

“Afternoon, ladies,” Lydia purrs with a smile. You make a gagging motion behind the sisters’ backs as they giggle and walk away, occasionally glancing over their shoulders. Lydia licks her lips.

“Not you going full ‘hey mamas’ lesbian,” you wheeze, “I’m having war flashbacks from college.”

“What? We had fun!"

“No,” you laugh, “you had fun. You got laid. I sat at the bar and got mistaken for someone’s mom. More than once.”

“Didn’t help that you used to dress like a senator when we went to the club,” Lydia says with a smile, causing you to whip around and point at her accusingly.

“First of all, business casual was the club look back then and you know that, and second of all, fuck you very much.”

Grinning, Lydia wraps an arm around your shoulders and deposits a wet kiss at your temple.

“You haven’t changed a bit,” she says as you march down the hall side by side, “Should I tell Copia about that time we made out senior year or…”

Your face goes ghostly white.

“Lydia Rosa Morales that was one time and I had a lot of vodka and-and you said—“

“Oh I know what I said,” Lydia agrees, “but what if I changed my mind, hmm? What if I want you all to myself?”

“Lydia do not even go there I—“

“Christ, please unclench I’m just fucking with you. Been a while since you got a taste of your own medicine, huh?”

“God, now I’m really gonna let them sacrifice you tonight. See you in hell, you stupid fruit or whatever that meme was.”

“Wow, lesbophobia from my own best friend…”

“You remember I’m gay too, right?”

“Yeah but–oh. Hello.”

You’re jarred by how polite Lydia sounds all of a sudden until you turn around and are met with Sister Imperator standing there smiling and looking deeply unsettling.

“Sister!” you say, trying to recover yourself, “This is my dearest and oldest friend, Lydia. Lydia, this is Sister Imperator my uh…boss. Lydia is visiting with us–with me– for the next few days.”

“How lovely,” she says as she reaches out to take Lydia’s hand, her gaze directed towards the cross Lydia always wears, “Catholic?” 

“Uh, yeah. I mean, I went through the whole thing y’know - baptism, confirmation - I just don’t really attend now unless my parents drag me. Mostly just like the art and the vibes.”

A silence falls between the three of you and you can tell by the way Lydia fidgets with her watch she is extremely uncomfortable. As are you. Where you’re slightly more accustomed to Imperator’s off-putting presence, Lydia is left uncharacteristically meek and quiet. It’s not a look you enjoy seeing on her.

“Well, just giving Lydia a tour so I guess we’ll be on our way,” you say with a nervous smile, taking your friend’s hand and gently tugging her away.

“Give my regards to the Cardinal, dear,” Imperator says, folding her hands in front of her and giving you a pointed look. The two of you haven’t had any real conversations beyond terse staff meeting discussions since the incident in her office and you swallow thickly before nodding. You don’t breathe again until she turns and clacks away on her stilettos.

“Bro, what the fuck,” Lydia breathes, squeezing your hand, “that’s your boss?”

“Uh-huh,” you say as the two of you slowly begin to walk down the hall again, “she’s…a lot. Listen, you can’t let anyone know that you know this or that I told you but…that’s Copia’s mom.”

“What?”

“Yeah it’s…a whole situation. I’ll explain it someday when you and Copia actually like each other.”

“You’ve officially given me a reason to get along with him tonight. I want the tea.”

You withdraw your hand and smack her arm with it.

“Because being the person I love wasn’t enough of a reason? Dickhead.”

___

Copia’s nervous. Again.

He had to slip up to his rooms to change cassocks after he left the office from how disgustingly damp it was and now he stands in the gardens watching ghouls set up a dining table.

“Are you going to help, or just stand there fretting?”

Terzo, doling out plates onto the rustic table, is looking over at him with an uncharacteristically furrowed brow.

“Ah, yes, mi dispiace. I was preoccupied.”

“Uh-huh,” he says, watching Copia reach the table and begin folding napkins while dodging eye contact. “You’re worried her friend doesn’t like you.”

Copia scoffs.

“Oh, I know her friend doesn’t like me. That’s not the issue. The issue is how do I change that.”

Terzo pulls back and thoughtfully rests his weight on his hip.

“I could charm her for you - you know how irresistible the ladies find me.”

Copia coughs, loud and sharp.

“Eh, I don’t think that’s going to work.”

Terzo looks offended and crosses his arms.

“And whyever not? You doubt my ability to sweep people off their feet?”

“That’s not what I’m saying, what I’m saying is–”

“You two!” The two younger siblings jolt to attention as Primo approaches bearing a vase filled with a variety of flowers, “Go help Secondo in the kitchen, he glamored the ghouls but now they can’t remember how to serve hors d'oeuvres and keep gobbling down all the prosciutto.”

Copia heaves a sigh.

“If Secondo can’t fix the problem, I don’t know how much help we’ll be but if you insist. Come on, fratello.”

___

“Hey, you look great!”

You gesture to Lydia in her linen pantsuit and she grins charmingly, pointing at you in return.

“Not looking so bad yourself, babygirl.” She reaches down to graze the fabric of your yellow floral sundress before taking a finger and tapping the delicate gold grucifix that rests on your neck.

“Huh. He give this to you?”

“Yeah. The night we first kissed. He wanted to welcome me into the family.”

Lydia says nothing, but the face she makes shows her equal parts impressed and wary. You loop your arm through hers.

“C’mon, gardens are this way. They’re beautiful, I think Copia said they were setting the table up near the orchards.”

The walk through the abbey and past the greenhouses is quiet, both of you more than happy to enjoy the comfortable silence afforded to you by years of friendship. When you approach the grassy area next to a row of citrus trees, you gasp. 

“This is gorgeous!” you gush, and the tall, lanky figure of Primo turns to face you with a smile.

“Buonasera, fiore mio. And you must be Signorina Morales?”

“I am yes, it’s a pleasure to meet you uh…Papa.”

“Primo,” he insists, “there will be many papas here tonight and we will all begin to seem like the same person after a while. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll fetch my brothers. Please, please enjoy.”

He gestures to what you assume are ghouls - though they do not wear their standard silver masks - standing silently and bearing large silver platters of–

“Oh fuck, cheese,” Lydia groans, snagging a small plate off the table and loading it up. “You just gonna stand there, or…?”

“Yeah, I’m just looking for–” you turn around and nearly jump out of your skin at the ghoul who appears behind you, bearing two glasses of prosecco. You thank him profusely and hand one to your friend, who makes an impressed face.

“Salute, you little Satan fucker,” she grins.

“I’m not–ugh. Salute, dumbass,” you say, clinking your glass together. 

“Bella mia!”

The all too familiar cry of Terzo rings out as he and his brothers head over to your nook. You exhale heavy through your nose and shake your head as he runs up to plant a kiss on both cheeks.

“Hello, Terzo,” you say, “This–”

You turn to introduce Lydia but Terzo has already swooped in and captured her hand in both of his gloved ones. He looks up at her with wide eyes, a grin playing on his lips.

“Oh, here we go,” you mutter under your breath.

“This Amazonian beauty must be your darling amica, Lydia. Signorina it is my honor and pleasure to make your acquaintance. I…am Terzo Emeritus.”

When he bends to place a kiss to the back of her hand you force yourself to take a sip of prosecco to keep from laughing at her expression. She looks over at you and smiles wide with a wink.

“Signore Terzo, the pleasure is all mine,” she murmurs, fluttering her eyelashes. Oh Lord. You walk away and spot Copia speaking quietly with Secondo.

“Hello, fratello,” you say, standing on tippy toes to press a kiss to Secondo’s cheek, “Hello, my love. Everything uh…everything alright?”

“So far, so good,” Secondo says, eyeing one of the ghouls, “they haven’t done anything weird, have they?”

“Weird? Like ‘developing a twitch’, weird or ‘sacrificing a goat in front of us’, weird?”

“Either, but the latter would be most alarming considering that’s not something we actually do, piccolina,” Secondo scolds, and you smile.

“Oh, you know, sacrificing goats, sacrificing virgins, same thing right?”

“We don’t do that either, and you would know better than most wouldn’t you?” Secondo’s smirks at your gobsmacked expression as he walks away to see Primo and Copia sighs.

“Tell me when it’s over, amore,” he says quietly and you take his hand to press a kiss to the back of it.

“Hey, remember this is just as stressful for me too, right? Sure she’s meeting them but really…they’re meeting her. I would genuinely not be surprised if she’s got Secondo in a headlock by the end of the night and Terzo professing his undying adoration for her.”

Copia cocks his head, frowning.

“Does he know that she’s—”

“Nah. He can find out the hard way. It’ll be good for him.”

For the first time all day, a genuine smile spreads across his face. 

“I adore you,” he says, leaning over to kiss you on the cheek and then dutifully wipe his lipstick off.

“Really? Hmm, had no idea. Come on my love, we have to be social at some point.”

“As you wish.”

—-

“You’ve been dodging me all night, huh?”

Copia’s eyes go wide as he finishes pouring his glass of wine and turns around. Lydia is standing behind him, half smile on her face and a hand in her pocket.

“Eh…no. No, I have simply been–”

“Dipping and dodging like you’re being paid to do it,” she smiles, “Listen, I get it. I’m intimidating, I know. But we all want the same thing here, right?”

“We…we do?”

“Sure - we want her–” Lydia says, gesturing over to you smiling and laughing at something Terzo said, “--happiness. You know we met in middle school?”

“Sì, sì, she said something to that effect.”

There’s a pause, and Lydia takes a sip of wine.

“She ever tell you how we met?”

Copia pauses, thoughtfully.

“I…don’t believe so, no.”

Lydia moves to stand by his side so they both have a clear view of you.

“She switched schools when she was twelve - I’m sure she’s told you about that bullshit she went through.”

Copia nods solemnly.

“Indeed.”

“Well she came to my school. Mid-school year…brutal time. Everyone’s already made their friendships - everyone except me. No one wanted to hang out with the beefy girl who towered a head over everyone else. I had kinda resigned myself to my social outcast fate when one day - there was a new face in class, sitting next to me. I was too shy to say hello but she wasn’t - immediately she smiled big at me and introduced herself. She didn’t fit in either, just a little too awkward and excitable about certain things, and we got along like a house on fire. She was the first real friend I ever had. We’ve been through everything together - made a point of going to the same college so we wouldn’t be separated. It’s been tough, not having her around you know?”

Copia nods slowly. He knew the two of you were close but his heart aches at the way her voice catches on the last word.

“I…am sorry.”

Lydia turns to him.

“What for?”

“All of it. For absconding with her attention and physical presence, for the shit you both went through. I…I love her desperately. I know I’m…I’m old and strange but I would do anything for her. Anything, Lydia. And I suspect you would do the same.”

She clears her throat and takes a sip of her wine.

“The way she talks about you…even over text it’s clear you have her heart. Like, you should see some of the shit she sends me. Real ooey, gooey, cringe shit. Up until you came into her life she always told me she had accepted the fact that she was just not meant to be loved. Which you and I both know is fucking bullshit but she really believed that. She really believed someone as kind and smart and pretty as her deserved to be alone. When she first started here she had such a hard time, you know? The depression and the anxiety and I felt helpless because I was so far away. But then she started talking about The Cardinal and how the two of you were spending time together and how giddy you made her feel. How you made this a home for her. And for that I’m grateful, so thank you Copia. And I apologize for my uh…gruff treatment earlier.”

Copia has the inside of his cheek wedged between his teeth in an attempt to keep from tearing up but when he looks over at Lydia and sees her doing the same, he lets out a little sob. She leans forward and presses a kiss to his cheek.

“Oh my fucking God, Lydia you did not make my boyfriend cry. What did you say to him?”

You’re by his side in a flash, thumbs dutifully wiping the smudged black paint from his cheeks.

“Relax, babygirl. We’re cool, right Copia?”

He nods and smiles.

“Yeah. Cool. She didn’t even threaten me once.”

You sigh and give both of them a look. Primo calls out your name and waves you over to the dining table and when you turn to leave Copia makes to leave too but before he can, a hand is wrapped tightly around his wrist.

“All that being said,” Lydia murmurs, very casual, “if you ever do anything - and I mean anything - to hurt her I’ll fucking snap your neck and make it look like an accident. I don’t care how powerful your Ministry is. I will make you bleed. Know that.”

Lydia’s gaze is intense and Copia nods solemnly.

“Anyway,” she says, suddenly boisterous, wrapping an arm around his shoulders in a crushing hug, “let’s go see the others. I’m not done tormenting your brother, yet. He’s something else.”

“Eh, sì he sure is something. And he hasn’t figured it out yet?”

Lydia grins as they march over to the others.

“I don’t think that man could recognize a woman who is only attracted to other women if I wore nothing but my strap and a lesbian flag.”

Copia groans.

“Please don’t let him hear you say that, he’s probably into that.”

[andreas-river]

Prompt tiiiiime!

Task force 141 (especially Ghost and Price) think Reader is only good as their translator, she's pretty bad in the field (dropping her rifle, not good at sneaking, really bad spacial awareness etc)

But, she gets kidnapped with Alejandro and Ruddy to be taken to a secret base because they need Readers skills as a translator to interrogate a prisoner for vital information, which they refuse to give, resulting in them being tortured.

However, when the 141 come to rescue them, they hear a really high pitched shriek that sounds really feminine, and thinking its reader, they break-down the door only to find reader pointing a gun at the leader of the group (a seriously frightening man whose 3x the size of reader) screamingin a differentlanguage. Even though reader is covered in bruises and blood, she looks terrifying and the leader begs the 141 to save him from Reader.

Bonus points for Reader not being able to switch back to English because they're so angry

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley X F!Reader

TW: mention of torture, description of blood and injuries, description of fighting, mention of weapons, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff at the end, kissing, female body description, Russian language with translations at the end, I hope they are correct. (Lmk if I missed any!)

A/N: here I am with your request! I really hope I met your expectation, it took me some time but I hope you will like it!

════════════════════════════

You had never felt so cold in your life: this was not your place, you should have been at the base helping your team, instead you were held captive, sitting at a table with your captors while they interrogated another prisoner, trying to get information about some important person. You had to translate the questions and any answers, but they didn't keep coming, insulting the leader in Arabic.

"This is all a waste of time!" you heard the leader shout as he ordered his soldiers to return the prisoner to his cell, looking at you with fire in his eyes. You held his gaze, not at all frightened by his menacing stare. He was tall and muscular, even more so than Ghost himself.

And your mind kept returning to him, like a mantra. Ghost, Ghost, Ghost. Always in your mind, and you couldn't help but think of him. How much you wanted to be with him, not handcuffed and imprisoned, forced to do something you didn't want to do.

He smiled, closing the distance between you and him, his tone of voice deep with his Russian accent as he picked up a knife. "Let's see if you're good at anything besides translating."

--

You lost count of how many cuts and bruises you had on your body, but you could feel them all, the blood trickling along your arms, which were bound to the armrest, and staining the floor beneath them, forming pools of blood. You stared at his back, facing a table full of knives and many other instruments of torture, some of them even rusty.

As the rage boiled in your veins, you quietly moved the small blade you had been hiding in your hand all along, cutting the ropes that bound your wrists and sneaking up behind him to attack, not realizing that he had a pistol in his hand.

You jump on him, making him shriek, slicing his shoulder with your blade, causing him to drop the gun to the ground. He tried to hit you with his elbow, dodging his movements and trying to reach the gun, but before you could do it you didn't feel the ground under your feet anymore, his arms locked around your body and threw you on the ground, trying to put you in a headlock with his thick arms. Instinctively you bit his arm with all the strength you had left in your body until you felt the metallic taste on your tongue, escaping his grip and kicking him with your legs, finally reaching for the gun.

You felt your heart pounding even harder in your chest, the sound echoing in your ears as you pointed the gun at him, still holding his own arm that was starting to bleed, the shape of your teeth imprinted on his skin.

"Не двигайся!" you yell, knowing full well that he can understand you. "Или я снесу тебе голову."

"You?" he let out an easy laugh, but avoided your gaze at all costs. He continued to speak in English, his thick Russian accent betraying him. "You're just a little girl who..."

He cries out in agony as you fire the gun, hitting him in the ankle, ceasing to speak as you step closer to his body. "Держи язык за зубами."

He finally looked you in the eye and made you realize how scared he really was. Coward, you thought as the sound of the door bursting open made you turn around, which somehow did not make you feel any better as the adrenaline kept pumping through your veins. As more familiar faces appeared on the doorstep, such as Price, Soap, Gaz and Ghost - behind him Alejandro and Rudy, who had been captured with you, fortunately not as badly injured, you stared in disbelief as the man who had held you captive and tortured you all this time began to beg to be rescued from you.

You let out a nervous laugh, shaking your head as you sat in the chair you were tied to, muttering to yourself. You felt on the verge of exploding like a bomb.

You noticed a pair of legs appear in your field of vision and watched as they knelt, his face at the same level as yours, the familiar skull mask a pleasant sight, but not enough to calm your anger. "Hey, y'alright?" he asked, but it made you scoff, cursing under your breath.

He watches as you start to shake, panicking as your arms are completely covered in your own blood, reaching for your hands, feeling the red fluid on your fingertips.

He curses himself for seeing you in that state. But admiring you, realizing how brave you really were, pushing your limits, rebelling, showing a side of yourself he never imagined.

He wants to say out loud how much that meant to him, how important you were to him. He decided to prioritize getting you back to the base safely, and all the blood you had lost worried him, as he noticed you drifting off, your eyelids half closed, but without that flame ever leaving your eyes.

As he took you in his arms and let you rest your head on his chest, he knew he couldn't hide the truth anymore, realizing how much he needed to admit his feelings for you. How much he had to protect you.

--

You immediately recognized the texture of the cotton sheets on your body, opening your eyes and recognizing the familiar surroundings of the base's medical area. What you didn't expect was to see Ghost sitting in the chair next to your bed, staring at you with his deep brown eyes.

"Hey..." you start, sitting on the bed as he stands up, closing the distance almost completely. "Huh- listen, I'm sorry about what happened-"

He lifts his hand, stopping you from talking and gently placing a finger on your lips, the action making you blush furiously as you felt the direct contact of his finger with your skin. He began to trace the outline of your lips, his eyes fixed on yours. "You literally scared the shit out of me, y'know?"

"What? How-?"

"Jhonny had a heart attack. Almost." You watched his eyes, some small wrinkles on the side made you realize he was really smiling under his mask, and how much closer he was to you, feeling like your face was on fire, burning red with embarrassment, your heart racing on your chest.

But the feel of his lips on yours made you freeze, not realizing how or when he removed his mask, your eyes closing automatically as he made contact with you, moving slowly as his rough hands held you so gently at the side of your face, both thumbs pressing on your cheekbones, holding you tightly against him.

When he pulled away from your lips, you still felt his taste lingering on you, and it took you a few seconds to realize that his lips were no longer touching yours. When you opened them, you saw his head tilted slightly to the side, a tiny smile adorning his face and his pupils almost completely covered his brown irises. For a brief second, you hesitated, unsure of what to do next, but the pull of his presence was irresistible. With a sense of courage, you reached out and gently placed your hand on his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your touch: as you gazed into his mesmerizing eyes, you could feel the unspoken words hanging in the air, and finally your lips met his own, leaving everything else behind.

══════════════

══════════════

Не двигайся! = Don't move!

Или я снесу тебе голову. = Or I'll blow your head off.

Держи язык за зубами. = "Keep your mouth shut.

[ginsays]

🎶 DON’T SAY YOU LOVE ME, YOUUU DON’T EVEN KNOW ME 🎶 IF YOU REALLY WANT ME THEN GIVE ME SOME TIIIIIME

[btsmosphere]

Supercharged | JJK (Teaser)

Get hyped!!!!!! Posting date chapter 1: 14th April

Chapter 1 is now here!

🗲summary:

It starts with a blow to the chest that changes your life. When your city’s most celebrated hero pays a visit, it turns out the noble Bolt has no trouble tossing lives aside. Lives that won't be missed. Lives like yours. Seven mysterious and powerful men give you another chance – one that starts to feel more like a curse the moment you meet golden boy Jungkook. The boy who wants you as far from his brothers as he can get you. Is it you he hates, or the blue lightning that now runs through your veins? And could it be his golden light that illuminates your heart when darkness threatens?

🗲pairing: jungkook x f!reader 🗲teaser word count: 365 🗲full fic wc: you do nOt want to know (79k...) 🗲genre: angst, action, eventual fluff, slow burn, enemies to lovers, superheroes/villains au, found family (imagine a mafia au with superpowers) 🗲rating: pg15 🗲warnings: in the teaser: none, just some tension. general fic warnings: violence with superpowers, weapons, swearing, arguing, injury, past trauma, mentions of death

>Updates every week!!

Supercharged Masterlist

a/n: guys. it's TIIIIIME!!! how many years have you heard me talk about how I was working on a superpowered jungkook story?? I started this thing four years ago so I can't believe the moment's finally come! it's been a long ride, and most of those four years was spent not writing this, but I just couldn't stay away either! I really wanted to tell this story, and now here it is and I am so happy to be able to share it💜 Let me know in a reblog, comment or ask if you want to join my taglist for this series! Over the next week before chapter 1 is released, check back as I introduce our characters👀I'm so excited for you to meet them!

As a smile was just blooming on your face, it was halted by Namjoon's next words.

“But. You aren’t ready just yet. I want you out there with us, so I’m willing to send you out sooner than I have with others before. These are unusual times, and you have to understand this will be more dangerous than I normally send rookies to. There’s work to do, with your powers, but also…

“As much as I appreciate your trust in us, I know it doesn’t extend fully. I need my team to be able to trust each other. Every single one.”

Fixing you with a hard stare to accompany his last words, he was effective in making you shrink in your seat. You knew exactly who he was talking about.

And that person was waiting for you right outside.

On leaving the office, you found Jungkook leaning up against the wall. Jin and Namjoon had hung back, leaving you alone as you emerged, and you instantly rolled your eyes. Determined not to be deterred, you kept walking down the corridor, trying to fix your eyes ahead – firmly away from the infuriating man that watched your approach.

“Scared yet?” his smirk bled through his words. You were almost upon him at this point, and he pushed away from the wall, blocking the way with his black-clad body.

Eyes flicking up to him, unimpressed, you tapped your foot.

“Why would I be scared?”

One corner of his mouth curved up, looking you in the eye as he leaned a little closer.

“We aren’t heroes, honey.”

“Thanks for spelling that out, Jungkook,” you drawled, making to step past him.

His laughter followed you while you started walking away.

“Need help packing?” he called.

“Hey, Jungkook,” Jin’s stern voice joined him, “no need. She’s not going anywhere.”

Jungkook’s silence spoke volumes.

Glancing back as you reached the end of the corridor, you were met with the livid expression that seemed so familiar. Jungkook’s eyes bulged with shock. You were sure that Jin’s hand on his shoulder was all that was holding him back.

Making the most of his eyes on you, you flashed a serene smile and walked away.

Thank you for reading!! Part 1 is coming on April 14th, and I will update every week (that's a promise, since it's already written in full!)💜

Contact me to get yourself on the tag list!

Taglist: @aianloveseven @preciouschimine @written-in-flowers @taegularities

[wardenparker]

Bright Lights & Broken Dreams - pt 3

Dieter Bravo x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+   Word Count: 17k Warnings: *Contains flashbacks*. Cursing, food/alcohol, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, shower sex, praise/worship, mention of underage drinking, soooo much fluff. Summary: The press junket for your film becomes a coming out party for your relationship, and awards season is another turning point worth waiting for. The future is every bit as bright as you had hoped it would be with Dieter there. Notes: I will never give up the chance to write about Dieter at the Oscars, so yes that is in this chapter. And no I am not sorry. Not one little bit.

Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3

“Babe! The car is here!” For once, Dieter is the one who is on time and waiting downstairs, fiddling with his phone and reposting the trailer like the studio wanted him to.

"Junket tiiiiime." You swing down the stairs with a suitcase in one hand and your purse in the other, ready to spend an ungodly boring three days staring at the walls of one single hotel out in Newport Beach. The studio knows you only need one suite, but they had the presence of mind to book a three-bedroom villa for their two stars to share with their assistants. With you and Dee in one room and Sadie and Desiree share another, the third bedroom is superfluous. But at least it provides a sound buffer for everyone's vocal enthusiasm.

You've been careful. All of you. Nothing has been given away to the public over the last ten months, and your individual fan bases have no idea that you and Dieter are back together. Or that you were ever together in the first place. This has been going well and you have decided to keep it quiet for now, not wanting to spoil the happy little bubble you've both been living in. No one even knows that you moved into Dieter's Sherman Oaks mansion six weeks ago.

“God, you’re so late.” Dieter huffs at you, although his grin shows that he doesn’t mean it at all. “Why didn’t you have Sadie pack you?”

"I am not late. I'm exactly on time." Desiree may or may not have clued you in on her tendency to tell Dieter that he has to be ready for things a minimum of fifteen minutes earlier than is actually necessary, and you have to admit. It works brilliantly. "Sadie asked for some personal time before the junket to go home and meet her baby nephew. I figured that that trumped packing my suitcase for me. She'll meet us at the hotel, though."

His own bag is waiting by the door and it’s a junket that he’s not actually dreading. Feeling better because you are going to be there and because he’s got a ten month sobriety chip in his pocket with your help. He has been sober beyond drinking wine or champagne with you. Even weed has been off limits because he can’t regulate himself.

"Ready to go, Bambi?" He looks ready – bright eyed and smiling if slightly tired, but that's your fault. You kept him up last night. Not that you're apologizing.

"I need some coffee." Dieter admits. "Maybe we can stop by and grab some?" He asks, pleading with big pouty eyes.

"Drive thru, or are you pouting at me so that I'll go inside the coffee shop and see what cookies they have today?" The two of you head out the front door to the car sent by the studio with Desiree standing by.

"Cookies." Dieter groans. Since quitting drugs, his sweet tooth has gotten worse, but he begrudgingly sweats through the workouts with the personal trainer you had hired for both of you. Telling him that you wanted him healthy so you could keep him for a long time had done the trick so he didn't whine too much.

"I'm sorry, did someone say cookies?" Desiree, as magical as she is, is sometimes nearly psychic. She has a paper bag in her hand that she wiggles in Dieter's direction before reaching forward to grab his suitcase to load into the trunk of the Town Car. "There's only one each so you don't get in trouble with your trainer, but I did not hold back on your coffee orders," she promises. "They're in the cupholders in the backseat already."

"Des, I love you." The way you hug her is nearly reverent, and you absolutely mean it. As much as you sing Sadie's praises, Desiree might be the only assistant in the world to rival her. And together? They're unstoppable.

"God." He groans happily and nearly dives into the car so he can get to the coffee, a nonfat two pumps white chocolate latte with two extra shots of espresso. "I love her more!" He calls back, happy to have his coffee and the prospect of a quick make out session in the car before having to pretend to be just your co-star for the next few days around others.

"I made him get up early to work out before we left," you explain, sending his assistant a grin before tucking your own suitcase into the trunk and climbing into the backseat after him. You've been on a cinnamon latte kick lately and the shop by his house – your house – makes an amazing one with just a touch of brown sugar steamed into the milk that tastes like heaven. The two hour drive will be a lot less tedious with Dieter in a good mood, and you have to admit that you could use the little caffeine boost as well.

"This is just what I needed." Dieter groans, sipping the latte like it is the key to eternal life but he picks up your latte to hand to you as you climb in beside him. He doesn't mind waking up for sex, he's always up for it, but he also knows he has to be on his A game to make sure he doesn't say anything. Dieter's management team has been ecstatic about the change in behavior of their client and doesn't want to break your good girl image with his still tarnished reputation.

“Thanks, love.” In the back of the car with the divider up, it doesn’t matter what you say. The only person back here with you is Desiree and she knows everything. Well – mostly everything. There are some details even she doesn’t need. “And thank you, Des.” When she climbs in after you and shuts the door, the car takes off right away. This weekend is running on a very tight schedule and LA traffic can be brutal, so there’s no time to spare.

"I hate press junkets." Dieter grumbles as the car speeds towards the freeway. "It's the same damn questions over and over by different people." The monotony of it bores him, wanting to be challenged by the questions rather than just trying to come up with new ways of repackaging the same shit.

“I know.” She sat through a hundred of these things with him, always hustling around to make sure things go smoothly, but she knows this time will be better. “At least you have good company this time.”

"That's the only good thing about this." Dieter winks at you. "As well as the soundbites for when we win our Oscars."

“You’re feeling very confident about that.” Comfortable enough to lean against his side as the car glides along the highway, you have to smile at his positive attitude. “Maybe this won’t be three days of torture after all?” The thing you always look forward to most is the cocktail party on the first night, usually because you get to mingle a little and spend time with your costars. This time? As long as Dieter is there, you’re game.

"I know you are going to win." He's confident of that, having watched the rough cut in its entirety. It was raw, real. The type of story that the Academy loves. "Hopefully the rumors that swirled during filming aren't brought up."

Unfortunately, it seemed like every kind of rumor was attached to you at some point during filming. You hated Dieter, you hated the director, you were dating your other costar, or you were dating your assistant – that one was immensely funny to Sadie, who thinks of you as a sister. “If they are, we’ll take them in stride. It’s nothing I can’t handle.” Rumors are only rumors, after all.

"I know." He murmurs, reaching down and threading his fingers with yours gently. "I just don't want my shit to splatter onto you."

“Your shit is my shit, babe. They just don’t know that yet.” Not having decided when to reveal your relationship to the world, you just know that for now, the key is to respect each other as much as possible in front of the camera.

He chuckles and sends you a grin. "Doesn't Kevin Hart have a bit that is something like that?" He asks, remembering some kind of standup special he had watched when he was baked a few years ago. "But it was like 'your bullshit is my bullshit, motherfucker'. Or something like that."

“I think it was about best friends, but this definitely applies.” You lift your joined hands to press a kiss to his knuckles and grin. “Your bullshit is my bullshit, baby.”

"Anything you want to do after the first round of interviews?" He asks, wanting to take his mind off of the upcoming questions.

“You.” The beaming grin you aim at him is unapologetic. “I’d be more graphic, but Desiree doesn’t need to be any more traumatized by our sex life then she already is.”

His chuckle is dirty and he sneaks his hand down to your thigh to give it a rough squeeze. "After the party, right? I know you want to go to the party."

“I always like to go to the party.” He knows that about you – that you don’t always like a lot of social situations but that you love a good party.

"Then we are going to the party." Dieter decrees, like he had never not been going to go to that party with you. "We just have to survive the first round of interviews."

“I promise that I packed something skimpy.” You shoot him an evil grin but just sit demurely in your seat and sip your coffee like a perfect angel.

Groaning, he rolls his eyes and huffs. "That's just mean." He pouts and crosses his arms over his chest.

“It’s not mean when you get to be the one who peels it off me at the end of the night.” It’s too cute. You can’t help but giggle, and even Desiree snickers in amusement.

"What happened to your good girl image?" Dieter asks, lifting a brow. "You know the press is going to be at this party as well and I'm going to have a hard time keeping my hands off of you."

“There will be swirling rumors that you’re desperately in love with me.” You tease, knowing that the dress you packed was chosen specifically to make him drool.

"That's not a rumor." He reminds you with a grin. "I am hopelessly in love with you. Desperate and hopeless. Never wanting to be out of love again."

“Well then, for once the Hollywood press corps will actually be telling the truth.” It’s not as though that’s a common phenomenon, so it’s worth teasing about. “I love you too, baby.”

“You know that story about the squirrel was totally fake, right?” Dieter frowns, leaning in to kiss you.

"Of course I know the squirrel thing was fake." You promise him, leaning into the kiss and relishing the small moment of tenderness. "That would be utterly ridiculous."

“Good.” He’s relieved you don’t believe that and kisses you again before snapping his head towards Desiree. “Cookie?”

"Cookie!" She hands over the bag with a flourish, knowing that getting Dieter in a good mood before a junket is vital. "And while Cookie is happening, maybe you'll let me go over your schedule for the day?"

Dieter huffs. “But that ruins the taste of the cookie.” He grumbles, perking up slightly when he sees it's a peanut butter chocolate chunk. “Fine.” He whines when his assistant doesn’t respond but just stares at him like a disappointed mother. She’s really good at guilting him without saying a word. Especially now that he’s sober, which is complete bullshit in his opinion.

The lemon shortbread cookie with lavender sugar makes you hum in contentment when you see it, and you sit back to listen dutifully. Sadie had already emailed you your itinerary and it is mostly the same as Dieter’s, but you’re still going to listen. These women take extremely good damn care of both of you and the least you can be is respectful.

******

The lighting in the room is bright, making Dieter wince and slip his sunglasses on. He’s not as sensitive to the light as he once was but the damn rings are making him see halos. “Ready to get this show on the road.” He huffs, fiddling with the water bottle that was already halfway empty.

“Let’s get started.” Your nod of agreement has the production assistant by the door moving, and you adjust in your seat slightly. At least the chairs they have for you in this place are comfortable upholstered ones and not like when they try to artistically arrange actors into director’s chairs for the aesthetic of it all. You have a cup of herbal tea on a small table just out of sight of the cameras thanks to Sadie and you’re ready to dive in. But mostly because she’s withholding baby pictures until the lunch break after you deal with the first round of interviews. The first woman who walks into the room looks nervous but bright eyed, and her credentials lanyard is a website you don’t recognize. She’s obviously a fan of Dieter’s, unconsciously focusing most of her attention on him, but you don’t mind.

Dieter straightens in his chair and the urge to reach for your hand is overwhelming so he plays with the edge of the chair he is sitting in. “Why did I choose this role?” He repeats the question and chuckles. “Contract obligations.” He jokes. “No, I liked the script. It was compelling and I knew that it was going to be amazing.”

It’s barely a joke, but you smile politely and don’t fuss when the woman gets flustered and forgets to ask you the question or at least wait for your answer. You understand being flustered by Dieter, it happens a lot. He’s far more charming naturally than he knows. The second question is about travel, and this time you don’t hesitate. “London was heavenly, but the hotel where they put the cast up in the French countryside was stunning. It was really like staying in someone’s home, and they made the experience so welcoming for all of us.”

Dieter smiles and nods, not expanding any more on the topic since you had answered. You had both talked about that hotel extensively and his own opinion mirrors yours.

The rest of her questions are fairly mundane, and you wonder if she was given first in as a warm up. Not wanting to hit you and Dieter with anything too thought-provoking right off the bat since Dee isn’t exactly famous for being a morning person. The next two people in ask requisite questions about working on a period piece and what it was like to work with the singer who played the third lead. The next seemed enamored of the fact that you had a very well behaved trained dog on set and wanted to know all about acting with an animal.

On and on it went, round and round again until even your break for lunch was a blur. The food was good, at least. That’s not always true at these things. A dozen or more interviews into the first day of the junket, Sadie brings you a fresh mug of tea and promises that the end is in sight. Just two more hours of this and you can go and wash off the tedium of interviews and get ready for the party.

“I’m so ready to stop smiling.” Dieter complains under his breath, his own refreshed latte in his hands as he watches yet another reporter bring in their equipment to set up. “Can I get some booze in this?” He begs Desiree, tilting his head. “Just a shot? Hell, even Bailey’s. Just something.”

“What happened to not drinking until the party?” His assistant asks with a raised eyebrow, having every intention of enforcing the deal they made yesterday.

“I got bored.” Dieter huffs quietly. “It’s the SSDD theory.”

“You’re done in two hours, and then you get a whole cocktail party to drink at.” Desiree reminds him. “You just need to survive a little bit longer. I hear there’s even cocktails named after your characters.”

“There are?” Dieter perks up tremendously at that idea and grins. “Okay. I’ll wait. But can we please have some interesting questions?” That part might have been a little too loud because the next reporter glances up from where they are setting up their camera.

There’s a flash of recognition on the reporter’s face. The look of someone tired who probably agrees that most of the questions they were asking aren’t worthwhile. He finishes setting up and sits down, but doesn’t open the small notebook that had just been in his hand. “So.” He smiles like he understands how tired the two of you must be, or at least he’s trying to be sympathetic. “This wasn’t exactly a run of the mill production process for you.”

Dieter glances over at you, seeing if you want to take the lead but your brow is slightly furrowed, so he answers. “If you mean the fact that we shot the emotionally tumultuous scenes first, yeah, I guess you could say that.” He chuckles. “Nothing like getting the shit slapped out of you on the first day to bond with your co-star.” He jokes, flashing you a grin. “Professionally speaking.”

"You didn't get along too well at the beginning of production, if memory serves." He shifts in his seat like a snake slithering toward a nest full of eggs. "The video of the two of you having it out in a restaurant in London made the rounds on the internet for weeks."

“Oh that….” Dieter chuckles and shrugs. “It’s me.” He deflects, pointing to himself. “Everyone gets pissed at me at some point.” He offers, like it would be unusual for his co-star to not be upset with him. “Emotions were high from filming that day.”

"But from someone so poised," he gestures to you, obviously hoping that he's poking a sleeping bear and trying to shake it awake.

"Unfortunately, sometimes being human is caught on film," you answer diplomatically. "As Dee said. Tensions were high in the beginning of filming. We had a lot of very high stress and high emotion scenes right in the beginning of the process and that really had us on our toes."

“Yes.” The reporter, Steven Someone, Dieter had already forgotten who he was with or his last name, nods in agreement. “However, from the video, it seemed to be…rather personal.” He continues on. “Did it have something to do with the production the two of you starred in together on Broadway together twelve years ago?”

“Actually?” No one has ever brought that up. It seemed like it had almost been lost to history. Your show and your history together seemed invisible to modern fans, and you’re honestly thrown a little off kilter by anyone even bringing it to the forefront. “No. It didn’t have anything to do with that. It was a misunderstanding on my part and I’ve apologized.” You’ve worshiped and posed for him since then, helping his sketchbook of you grow exponentially. But that is entirely personal.

“So the rumors that the two of you have an old spat are unfounded?” He asks, looking between the two of you. “Because the film almost seems to be an extension of that. Deeply personal.”

“I wasn’t aware of any rumours.” It makes you shift uncomfortably in your seat, the way this particular interview is turning out, but maybe it would be good to smooth this over. If there are rumours about you disliking each other, it would be good to gloss over them and make sure they’re ended.

“There’s reports that the set nearly shut down the first day due to an altercation and the table read was uncomfortable because of the tension between the two of you.” He acknowledges, without really asking a question.

“The beginning of this process was definitely tense,” you acknowledge, glancing nervously at Dieter who seems shell shocked by the way this interview has gone. “If anyone else in the cast or crew was made uncomfortable, obviously that’s something that was unintentional.”

“Obviously, there’s no tension now.” Dieter chuckles. “We are all temperamental artists at times, it plays well on screen but it can be uncomfortable until you find that niche.”

“No. In fact, now you seem quite cozy.” This reporter is smiling like he has a secret and your stomach rolls anxiously. “In fact.” The second time, the phrase almost sounds accusing. “You’ve been spending a lot of time together lately, haven’t you?”

Dieter gives a small shrug, as if it doesn’t matter. “We’ve known each other for a long time.” He tells the reporter, annoyed at where this interview is going. “Of course we are going to spend time together.”

“So there’s no truth at all to the rumor that the very same moving truck that was seen in Echo Park near the home of America’s Sweetheart,” he practically points his own at you. “Was unloading just hours later in Sherman Oaks at Dieter’s mansion?”

Dieter’s eyes narrow and he shifts in his chair. “Aren’t we here to talk about a movie?” He looks behind him at the banner for the movie and nods. “Yeah, that movie?” He hooks his thumb behind him. “Our personal lives aren’t on the table.”

“You’ve called this film ‘deeply personal’.” He changes tactics but doesn’t back down. “Apparently the beginning of shooting wasn’t the only time things got tense on set. The love scenes were also extremely intimate.”

“As intimate as having a roomful of people watching simulated sex can be.” Dieter laughs. “Takes away the fun if you’re the only ones exposed. But it was an extremely professional set.” He looks at the camera and playfully gives it a ‘sorry’ look. “Nothing is real.”

The production assistant nearby gives the reporter the signal to wrap things up and you shift again, picking up your mug to wrap both hands around it like an herbal tea security blanket. The reporter looks unhappy that he has to stop but he looks at both of you seriously. “The movie is a very poignant film and if emotions were high, they translated to a fantastic performance.”

“Thank you.” Saved by the bell, you think with an inner sigh as you paint a smile on your face. “We had a sensational script and a wonderfully supportive cast of costars. And Sam’s vision as a director really brings things together.”

Once that reporter is cleared out, Dieter shakes his head. “Can we have a break?”

“We’re on a tight schedule.” Desiree frowns, knowing the publicity team won’t like it. “I can stall for a few minutes.”

“Just a couple of minutes.” Dieter nods as Desiree moves towards the door to prevent the next reporter from coming in. “How are you doing?” He asks immediately, his eyes wide. “Do you think someone actually saw the moving truck?”

“They must have.” You can’t squeeze his hand without giving yourselves away, so you keep both hands locked around your mug. “I mean I thought we were doing really well but obviously somebody saw something.” You had agreed together that you wouldn’t come out as a couple for at least a few more months. You had planned to allow yourselves to be photographed on a very well-behaved and well-earned vacation where your publicity teams could control the message and how the information disseminated to your fans. Apparently, you may need to speed up that plan.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” Dieter frowns, sure that this is somehow his fault. He was the one who insisted that Sherman Oaks was where the two of you needed to live. You didn’t own your house, so he had thought it made sense.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” It’s a reflex of his, to apologize even when he isn’t at fault, and you shake your head. “We should just…we should decide. If we’re still going to keep this under wraps or if we’re going to open up about it sooner than we planned.” It would be okay, either way. You could still control the flow of information. Sadie and Desiree would get the ball rolling with your management and publicity teams now instead of in six more months. “I guess…we could always use the junket?”

He frowns, knowing that you wanted more time, and it feels like you two are being pushed into a corner. “We could.” He agrees. “I’ll do whatever you want to.”

“If we deny it up and down here and then come out at the premiere, they’ll snag us for lying.” You point out quietly. “So far we’ve never said we aren’t together, and we can keep it that way. Everything on the up-and-up. And the press will be at the cocktail party tonight.” Having to play a strategy on your own relationship is difficult, but both of you have experience in this area. “We should just…just make sure Des and Sadie have everything lined up before we do this. The whole point was to have our teams ready to go. No scandals for either of us.”

“You’re going to be the one taking a hit.” Dieter reminds you. “But I haven’t had a scandal that’s come up to bite us in the ass.” He’s been on his best behavior, to the annoyance of some of the tabloids.

“They’re going to dig for a scandalous past that doesn’t exist. It’s fine.” Part of the point is that your team will be able to speak to your rekindled romance and touch on the fact that you dated years ago during your time on Broadway. Each other’s one that got away. A very romantic spin on the reality of an abusive father controlling his son from afar.

“Dear ole dad is spinning in his grave.” Dieter chuckles. “He never wanted me to have a squeaky clean image, said it was a direct reflection of him.”

“He wanted a product to sell, not a son.” It makes you sad, honestly, and you sigh into your tea. “He never saw how amazing you are all on your own.”

“Doesn’t matter now.” He knows that, although it still hurts. It had been one of the reasons that he had never had children. Never wanted to risk fucking them up.

“I love you.” It doesn’t cure the hurts, but the whispered words make him smile and that’s what matters.

“I love you too.” Dieter wants to lean in to kiss you, but he knows Desiree can only keep them out for so long. He smiles at you and nods. “Let me know when you want to do this.” He tells you before he calls for his assistant.

“Everything okay?” Desiree and Sadie appear together an instant later with concern on their faces.

“How long do you think it would take you to be ready to go with the photo leaks and press statements?” You ask them, barely raising your voice above a murmur. “If one reporter knows things, then I’d bet anything that more do.”

“Oh shit.” Desiree’s eyes widen slightly and she looks back at the door. “We have everything ready. Just whenever you are ready to push.”

"Tonight?" In a perfect world you could just be yourselves. Just cuddle up on the sofa and be together. But your lives are more complicated than that. "Use the cocktail party as the staging ground?"

Dieter nods. “I don’t have to keep my hands off of you.” He hums happily. Any time he doesn’t have to worry about not being able to touch you, he’s in a better mood. Even the interviews where the two of you playfully touch while joking were better in his book.

"If you're ready, we'll get the ball rolling." Sadie promises, flashing a proud grin at Desiree. This publicity roll out is some of their best work. "By the time the cocktail party starts, you'll be free to snuggle as much as you like."

“Okay, let’s get this next round of interviews done.” Dieter grumbles, like he wasn’t the one that needed a break. “I want to shower before the party.”

******

It ends up taking slightly more than two hours before you and Dieter can get back to your suite to get ready, but at least you make it through things without any more nasty questions or grouchy attitudes. The second you shut the suite door behind you, you go straight into his arms to claim a hug. "Well that's done," you huff with a half-assed chuckle. "Tomorrow we get to do even more of them."

“So what you’re saying is that I need to be drunk tomorrow?” Dieter huffs, squeezing you gently and sighing softly as he burrows into your neck and inhales the scent of your perfume.

“Tomorrow we’re going to get all the questions about us.” Considering you have the two most trustworthy and effective people you know working for you, you know that whatever they’re leaking or releasing, Sadie and Desiree are doing it at this exact moment. “It should be a much more interesting day.”

“Are you ready?” He asks seriously, pulling back to caress your cheek. “Soooo many jokes about taming me. Or orgies, or whatever.”

“Well, you’ve never taken me to an orgy, so I’m afraid I won’t understand those jokes.” You remind him, putting on your best innocent face. “I’m ready, honey. Honestly. I’m sorry that our hand got forced, but I’m proud to love you and I’m glad we don’t have to hide anymore.”

“I wouldn’t want you at an orgy.” He frowns just thinking about it and slides his hands down your sides. “It’ll make red carpet walks better.”

“So much better.” His hands land on your hips and you gravitate toward him instinctively. “Are you sure you’re ready?” As much as you’ll get a few jokes or comments about taming him, he’s going to get the brunt of it. The intimate details of his life have been much more on display than yours.

“You know I don’t care what the media thinks about me.” He does but it’s not like he can undo the damage already done. All he can do is allow his image to be shaped into something else.

“I know that you say that.” With two fingers you brush a stray curl from his forehead. “But you also can’t get bent out of shape if they say things about me. It’s their job to stir shit. Or at least to try.”

“You don’t deserve it though.” He pouts, frowning at you. “I won’t.” He huffs when you just stare at him with that ‘I don’t believe you’ expression on your face.

“We’re going to have fun tonight, and we’re going to be us. The real us.” You wrap him up in both arms and hug him to your chest, grinning when he burrows into your neck again for comfort. “Everything is going to be okay.”

“I know it will be.” That he’s certain of. The alternative is for the two of you to not be together and he’s not doing that. Not again. “Do you want to shower together, or do you want to wait until we leave the party?”

"Oh no, we're definitely showering together." The wolfish grin you throw him comes with a wink, and you pull away to head into the bathroom knowing that he's right behind you. "I want to walk into that party having been freshly fucked, thank you very much."

“Fuck.” Dieter grins, rushing to pull his shirt over his head and mussing his hair up. “What are we waiting for? Get naked!”

The vague sound of a snort from the other room tells you that Sadie heard that, and you can't help but giggle as you toss your blouse onto the long counter and reach into the overlarge stall to turn on the shower.

“Jesus.” Dieter can’t help but stop in his tracks and admire the beauty of you in front of him. Since moving in together, you have modeled several times and yet he still can’t help but stare. “I love you.”

You pause in your tracks, turning around to face him with your bra off and your hands on the fly of your pants – and a dopey, lovestruck smile on your face. He really is just sweet sometimes, and it's a side of him that almost no one gets to see. You honestly couldn't be prouder or more flattered that he is so soft and loving with you. "I love you, too."

Dieter grins and pushes his pants down, he had purposefully not worn underwear because of having to sit all day, so his hard length bounces out as he kicks off the pants.

“I’m gonna buy you silk underwear one day, and you’re gonna love how soft it is so much that you’re going to want to wear it all the time.” Not that you mind that he goes commando. It’s one less layer to strip away in order to have him inside you. He loves his little luxuries, though, and you know it would make him smile.

“Why, so they can remind me of how good your hand feels?” He smirks at you as you step into the shower. This is intimate and playful, the two of you falling into an easy comfort with each other.

“I told you that moisturized skin makes all the difference.” He had teased you about being so religious in your nighttime routine of moisturizers and cleansers, but he never argued with the results.

He grins, shaking his head and wrapping his arms around you. “We have about twenty minutes.” He hums. “It’s going to have to be a quickie.”

“Then you should decide if you want my front or my back pressed against that wall,” you hum, slinging both arms around him so you can drag him down for a kiss.

“Back.” He groans against your mouth. “Easier to kiss you.”

He’s always been greedy with kisses, much to your delight, and now he backs you up against the cold marble just as eagerly as he slips his tongue into your mouth revels at the needy moan it earns him. It takes no effort to melt into him and you reach between your bodies to wrap your hand around his cock and stroke.

The way you touch him makes his knees weak, sagging and leaning into you as he plunders your mouth with his own. Eager to be inside you again. It must be a symphony of moans and whines to anyone outside your little bubble, but all you can ever focus on is Dieter. He’s all you’ve ever wanted and still all you need, and when he picks your leg up to sit on his waist you shift forward with ease, eager to have him inside you again.

“Baby, you’re so good to me.” Dieter kisses down your neck and across your shoulder. “Best drug, you, you’re it.”

"Love you so fucking much." The way he nips at your skin leaves you breathless every time and you whimper softly. "Need you, Dee. Please?"

“Yes baby.” There isn’t enough time to tease you, to draw this out. Too needy for the solace your body gives him, he lines up and sinks in faster than both of you can inhale.

"Fuuuuuuck." No matter how many times you take him it's always a stretch, like a personal challenge to your dripping cunt to see if it will ever not make your eyes roll back in your head or your chest heave to draw him as deep inside you as possible. Tonight it's a gorgeous feeling of being split open as he braces your back against the wall and drapes both of your legs over his forearms to leverage you in between the marble and his body, impaling you on his cock so quickly that it almost makes you dizzy.

“Shiiiiiiit.” Dieter hisses. “How are you so fucking tight?” He whines. “I fuck you all the time.” He loves it, cock twitching deep and he grinds his hips to try to reach a fraction of inch deeper. Feeling like he will drive through your back wall with the first thrust.

"Kegels," you tease, diving forward to kiss him when it's truly the most you can do in this position.

“Keep doing them.” He groans against your lips, too busy trying to devour you to really talk beyond that point. You love making him crazy and everything you do accomplishes that. Especially the way you moan into his mouth.

Each determined thrust drives you firmly into the cold wall, pushing a moan into his kiss and making both of you grip each other tighter. His feet firmly planted on the shower floor hold both of you steady as he rocks into you and you do everything you can to meet him at every swing of his hips. It's a precarious dance but a rewarding one, letting him hit all the deepest, most sensitive places in your greedy pussy.

“Fuck, fuck.” Dieter groans, eyes fluttering and he tries to make sure neither one of you end up on the fucking floor. “Tonight–” he gasps. “Tonight, ride me.” He begs, knowing he will be needy and submissive after a night schmoozing. He normally is.

“Want to—” You gasp, whimpering when he hits so deep inside you that you swear you’re going to go permanently cross eyed from the way it jolts through your body. “Worship tonight, baby?”

“Yes. Fuck yes.” The way you make him feel like a god is addictive. To you– it seems like he is the best among all men. Desperately soothing the ego that loves to be stroked and it's different. He knows you mean it. The love you have for him makes it even better, making him crave it just like he wants to worship you.

Coming back to the depths of your relationship with Dieter has been easy in some ways. The emotional and sexual attachments that you had fostered years ago sprang back to life as though they had never once been doubted. Trust was rebuilt over time, through tangible examples of making and keeping promises and both of you speaking up even when you were uncomfortable or afraid of toeing a line. Moving in together has been the culmination of hard work and deep love, and you have both been so proud of your hard work. Tonight is another big step but right now you let yourself revel in what comes so easily to you. Sex is like your safe haven. The place where only you and he exist. And even though you’re a half dozen thrusts away from cumming at the very most, thinking of the next time you’ll get to be in his arms is absolutely thrilling.

“Love you baby.” Dieter groans, feeling you getting ready to cum, picking up your cues like it was just yesterday that he was introducing you to how wonderful sex is. “Cum for me.”

"Love you." It might be barely bitten out on a groan but you mean every syllable. In less than a minute you're spasming around him, tight walls pulling him as deep into your body as you can manage and hands clinging to his shoulders while you whimper in his ear and come apart for him all in one breathtaking moment.

He groans, rocking up onto the balls of his feet and scrambling back to press his lips to yours. Needing to kiss you will he tumbles off the edge after you. Only managing to thrust two more times before he is grinding deep and shuddering as he fills you.

You stay pinned together like that for as long as it takes to get your breath back, exchanging small kisses full of indulgence before he finally lets your legs down and makes sure you're steady on your feet. "We should wash up," you murmur unconvincingly, needing at least two more quick kisses before you even think of reaching for the soap.

“I think this might be the first time I’ve ever been disappointed to have a party planned for a night.” Dieter huffs, amused at himself. Normally he would already be getting hammered to pregame, but if you were to decide to stay in this room, he would snuggle up to you and order room service.

"It will be fun." At least you don't have to pretend anymore, and that is its own kind of fun and freedom. "You can kiss me in public now. Remember that."

“But no making out, right?” There had been a meeting with your own PR about what kind of PDA would be permissible to continue to craft your more respectable image.

"Right." A face cloth and body wash make it into your hand with the intention of each of you washing yourselves, otherwise you would never leave the overlarge shower. "And touching is fine but no groping. It's like foreplay for PDA," you grin at him, handing over the soaped-up cloth.

“What about a butt squeeze?” Dieter pouts, still not completely happy with these rules. “Just one! It will be tasteful.”

“How about resting your hand there for no more than five seconds.” While your publicist had looked at you like you have six heads when you told her about Dieter, she had since come to think of it like a challenge. A professional test, of sorts. Could Dieter Bravo be made to look respectable? Only time would tell.

“Only if I get to flex my fingers for the last second.” He compromises, grinning as he starts rubbing the soapy rag over his body. He knows how much you like his butt squeezes. And his boob squeezes, and it’s not like he’s trying to negotiate that for public spaces.

“Deal.” There’s a silly grin on your face as you put your hand out for him to shake like it’s some kind of shady business bargain instead of a goofy moment between lovers.

“Guys!” Sadie’s voice is muffled from the other side of the wall but still clear. “Rivkah and Monique are here to get you ready! No time for round two!”

“There’s always time for round two!” Dieter yells back, even as he steps out from under the water and turns off the shower.

It only takes a little while for both of you to get ready, thanks to your teams, and the all-black ensemble that Desiree had packed for tonight has just a few accents of blue to subtly match your dress. You hadn’t planned to come out tonight, but the decision to leave subtle little clues in your outfits for the weekend was a very good one after all.

In the elevator, you squeeze his hand and lean your careful coiffed head on his shoulder. “Are you ready for this?”

“As long as you are.” Your fame being impacted is the only downside of this in his opinion. He knows his own reputation. It will be met with disbelief and then there will be bets made on how long it lasts and if you try to hit him with a car when you inevitably break up because he’s fucked up. He knows all this. He just hopes you can put up with it and remember that the past is behind him.

“I’ve made my decision.” You tell him honestly and reach for his hand to thread your fingers together as the elevator descends to the first floor. “And if Hollywood makes me pick between it and you?” Exhaling softly, your eyes flick up to his. “The answer is you.”

That makes Dieter have to bite his lip, emotional from your confession. “I’d pick me too.” He teases softly, squeezing your hand.

With time enough to roll your eyes at him playfully before the elevator doors open, you smirk and return the squeeze of his hand. “Careful. Or I won’t stroke anything besides your ego tonight.”

“You love stroking Mr. Wiggles.” Dieter mutters under his breath, just to make you laugh before he steps out and pulls you out behind him. He hasn’t named his penis and if he did, it wouldn’t be Mr. Wiggles.

Thanks to the well-timed comment you’re choking on smothered laughter as the doors open, and the very first picture taken by a photographer of you and Dieter as an official couple has you beaming at him with a broad and honest grin on your face and laughter in your eyes as he holds your hand. It’s a beautiful image. The two of you are dressed immaculately and happy, the perfect picture of romantic bliss. You doubt either of your teams could have planned a better image.

Just like he would have with any starlet he was escorting to an awards show, Dieter is attentive. However, this time, it’s more intimate. His smiles are real and his hold on your hand never wavers for a moment as some of the reporters start to immediately buzz with excitement.

The ‘carpet’ you have to walk is actually the main hallway through the hotel which has been blocked off and styled as a greeting area so that no one not in attendance would have any idea you weren’t at an elegant party. The party itself, however, is outside. The entire patio and garden area of the hotel has been turned into a cocktail area with room for schmoozing and music for dancing. It will be fun, you just have to get to it first. The very first reporter to get your attention asks the standard questions about what designers you’re wearing, and you excitedly name names and give details so that the independent women designers you worked with for this event would get their due attention.

“Don’t ask me!” Dieter shrugs and grins. “I only know that the clothes feel really good and she looks amazing.”

“He’s wearing Gucci.” You grin, having gotten that tidbit from Desiree earlier. “Head to toe.” When he looks at you with surprise, you just shrug. “You look amazing, too. I was curious.”

Grinning, he winks at you and then back at the reporter. “She’s going to have me styled in Gucci all the time now.” He jokes. “But we’ll see, right?”

“Do you have a hand in his style these days?” The reporter asks, confusion indicating that she hasn’t picked up on what you two are trying to give away for free.

Lips quirked into a knowing grin, you nearly wink at the reporter on your own this time. “Most girlfriends do, don’t they?”

Dieter almost laughs at how wide the poor woman’s eyes get, nearly choking on air as she immediately tries to talk again through her excitement. He doesn’t though. He just gives her a concerned look as he stands beside you.

“This film was an adventure.” You tell the reporter with a smile. This quote will be used over and over again, so you have made yourself memorize something nice from your publicist instead of trying to improvise. “We were lucky to be able to have that adventure together.”

The reporter who had started grilling you during the junket nearly spills a drink as he starts jumping up and down. “I knew it! I fucking knew it!”

"Oh?" The amusement on your face is notable when you turn to find the man nearly flailing in your direction. "Then you should have asked directly." Not that you wouldn't have been a deer in the proverbial headlights if he had, but you can pretend otherwise.

It’s almost worth the annoyance Dieter had suffered earlier to see the devastation on his face as the reporter realizes he lost the exclusive scoop. It was now going out, might already be posted.

The next reporter on the carpet is a man you're familiar with. He's worked for his magazine for a decade by now and routinely does these junkets, but didn't sit with you today – his interview must be scheduled for tomorrow. "Hi Tom," you smile cordially as you and Dieter step over in line and you shake his hand warmly.

He's a nice guy. Likes to talk about his kids whenever he gets the chance, so you make small talk about little Ashley and Kaiden for a minute before he flashes a big smile at you. "I have to know how it happened," he insists with a breathless laugh of disbelief that you have a feeling is going to be the resounding reaction tonight.

Dieter glances over at you and smiles. “We’ve known each other for a long time. We did a play together twelve years ago and had a relationship then.” He shrugs. “I was an ass, she unbelievably decided to give me another chance.” He’s been willing to take the blame for the past and frame you as this saving angel if it helps. “The chemistry was still there.”

“Twelve years ago?” Tom sounds shocked but also soft at that revelation. Like it’s some kind of magical gift — and maybe for you and Dieter, it is.

“Not everyone gets a second chance,” you hum, still smiling, but this time that smile is gentle and aimed at Dieter before turning back to the reporter you have known for several years. “We’re very lucky. Why don’t we tell you all about it when we sit down tomorrow?”

“Absolutely. But for now, the two of you look happy.” He knows he will be up late rewriting most of his questions.

“We are.” That much is undeniable, bringing warmth to your cheeks. “We really are.”

“I’m sure we will talk later but the movie was excellent, enjoy the party you deserve.” Tom nods to you and allows you to move along.

Each short moment with each reporter is some variant of this, as most people are too flabbergasted to say much of anything right now. Tomorrow you’ll be bombarded with questions but for tonight you’re going to bask in the glow of not having to hide what makes you happy.

“Well no one accused us of lying.” Dieter chuckles under his breath. That had been something he had really thought would happen. People would claim it was a publicity stunt for the movie.

“I’m sure someone will tomorrow,” you laugh nervously as he guides you out, into the mood lighting and manicured decor of the party. “I think most of them were too shell shocked to even think of that.”

“Of course they are.” The bar is set up and he guides you towards it. “You – Hollywood’s dream girl – dating me.” He snorts. “Hollywood’s disaster.”

“You’re like the tornado from The Wizard of Oz,” you tell him, with a confidence that makes him snort but also look at you with a curiosity that asks why. “You swept into my life and made everything Technicolor. Sometimes it’s hard or even scary, other times it’s joyful and exciting. But either way, I wouldn’t be who I am without you.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” He can’t help but lean in and press his lips to yours in a chaste kiss. Not as intimate as he would like, but enough that he shows you how touched he is.

“It was meant as one.” Even a small kiss is a big deal right now, and you can just feel the sheer number of cameras pointed at you right now, but you still smile at him and thank the bartender who sets one specialty cocktail each in front of you - the ones named for your characters.

“To your first Oscar.” Dieter grins as he picks up the drink and holds yours out to you as a toast. “I will be proud of you and cry from the audience when you win.”

“To your second Oscar.” Gently tapping the rim of your glass against his, you can’t help the warm and cuddly feeling that all of this gives you. Like this is how it was meant to be so many years ago. This was the future you were always intended to have. Right here with him. “I will be proud of you and crying from the audience when you win.”

“Nahhh.” Dieter shakes his head. “Your performance is the stronger one. It’s your movie really.”

“We’ll see.” He has never really known what he’s capable of on his own, and is even worse at accepting a sincere compliment, so you won’t press the point. But the fact is, Dieter Bravo would have been a huge movie star even if his father hadn’t been one before him. “Let’s just go enjoy the party.”

“Of course.” He winks and throws back the rest of his drink. The next one will be sipped because he has no intention of getting too drunk. “You know how much I love to party.”

******

You had learned very early on that Dieter never threw parties, but he was always invited to them. No matter which castmate or crew member or artist friend or old school pal was having people by, Dieter was always on the top of the guest list. He was a bragging point as much as a fun guest, giving people the chance to proudly spout that a movie star had been at a party they gave. And whether he cared about that or not, he almost always showed up – and he always brought you with him. You were his devoted arm candy and proud of it, whisked around every party like a beautiful bauble. His energy had always been electric, and wherever he focused his attention was the center of the universe. And no matter how long it took to make his rounds and shine his light on everyone he could, it always ended up back on you.

“Hey Bambi.” He had gotten dragged away from you, pulled into a story telling time about his time when he was filming a nude scene at fourteen and the ethics of it. Now back at your side, he drops his arm over your shoulder and plucks the almost lukewarm beer from your hand to take a sip. He was thirsty and the buzz that attention gives him was starting to wear off. “You enjoying yourself?”

“I was just thinking of getting a new drink.” His arms rests heavy and enticing around your body and you move into him automatically to get a hint of the cologne he wears. You have no clue what it is, but it smells exotic and heady. “Wanna come with me?”

“Course I do.” Dieter finishes off your beer and leans in with a vicious smirk on his lean face. “And later, I want to come in you.” He teases in your ear before nibbling on it, just to make you shiver.

"Babe." It makes you completely weak in the knees when he does things like that – says things like that – and you've never been more convinced that starting birth control was the right move. "Does that mean you want me to stay over tonight?" You ask with a wide-eyed pout that practically begs him to say yes. In the months since you started working and sleeping together, you've barely ever slept apart. But you try not to assume.

“How are we going to go to a hangover brunch tomorrow morning where we eat wayyyyyy too many sweet and salty things if you don’t stay?” He practically pouts at the idea. Sleeping better with you beside him, though he’s never told you that.

"Let it never be said that we don't take our two-show days very seriously." A solemn nod makes you giggle, knowing full well that doing two shows each day on the weekends is something that is equal parts exhausting and exhilarating. This is your craft, and you relish the opportunity to flex all of those muscles that you have been honing since you were just a young teen back in Washington. "I'm happy to stay, babe. I just didn't want to assume."

He huffs and rolls his eyes, wanting to ask you why you don’t assume, everyone else does. No one actually ever asks Dieter permission. They just assume he will want to be at a party or go out to the bar. You constantly not knowing if you aren’t spending the night has him thinking about asking you to just give up your apartment. But he’ll wait until your lease is coming up. No need for you to pay a penalty.

You don't tell him that you're terrified that he's going to get sick of you. That being too clingy or too emotional or too anything will be what makes him decide that the novelty of you has worn off. Telling him that would surely be the last nail in the coffin of a relationship that has come to mean so much to you, so you just smile instead and sidle up to the kitchen counter at this house party that has been transformed into a bar. "What are you in the mood for?"

Immediately distracted, Dieter strides up to the bar and reaches for the harder liquor. “Do you want me to make you a drink?” He asks. “It’s the very first drink I ever had.”

"Sure!" Of course you're always going to say yes to him. He's had such a wonderful breadth of experiences already and you hate how naive or sheltered you can feel sometimes by comparison.

“You will find that these are somewhat of an acquired taste.” Dieter hums as he adds scotch whiskey and vermouth into a shaker and walks over to the fridge to get some ice.

"Now I'm nervous." You lean on the counter while you watch him, biting your lip and not disguising the fact that you're watching his hips move as he walks. "What exactly are you making for me?"

“A Rob Roy.” He hums as he grabs some ice and turns around to wink at you. “A very classy cocktail.”

"Trying to class me up, Dee?" A little nervous that you won't like it, you put your nose up in the air and affect an air of absolute class and sophistication to mask your worry – and hopefully to make him laugh.

Dieter snorts and sticks his tongue out at you. “I’m just hoping you snort it up your nose choking on it like I did.” He scoffs playfully. “But– to be fair– I was eight.”

"Eight?" Sometimes when he mentions things from growing up they're cute stories or funny anecdotes. Sometimes they're downright disturbing instead. This qualifies as the latter.

“Yeah.” He shrugs as if it’s no big deal and slaps the top on the shaker to start shaking it. “One of dad’s parties.”

"Of course." The first time you ever went to a party with people drinking or smoking was probably halfway through college, but that just makes you feel ridiculous next to him. He calls you Bambi for looking innocent, but sometimes you wonder if he knows exactly how deep that side of your personality runs.

There isn’t a martini glass to strain the drinks into but the plastic cups get three dashes of bitters in the bottoms before he starts to evenly divide the liquor between the two. That was his father’s secret to a good Rob Roy. The bitters are only added at the end and never stirred in. He fishes out the ice with a spoon and hands you a cup. “To your new favorite drink.” He teases, sending you a small wink.

The first sip burns, almost sending you into a coughing fit that would assuredly be the least sexy you’ve ever been in front of him, but you manage to get yourself under control enough to take a second sip and that tastes delicious. Once you get past the initial shock of strong liquor, there’s something nuanced and addictive about the drink. You flash him a grin over the top of your plastic cup and count yourself lucky that you only coughed a little and your eyes only watered a little at the first sip. The last thing you want is for Dieter to think you can’t keep up. “Actually? It’s really good.”

Laughing, Dieter takes a sip of his own drink and grimaces slightly. “Glad you enjoy it.” He hums, wanting to tell you that you don’t have to like it, not if you don’t want to. “I got trashed off of them and threw up in the pool that night.”

“Sounds…fun?” Sometimes when he tells you things like this from his childhood you really just don’t know how to respond. Without being able to relate in any way, you usually just listen and tuck the information away for later recollection. He is a puzzle, and you’re slowly starting to put the pieces together.

“Yeah.” Dieter snorts and shakes his head. “Dad was disappointed. Said a man doesn’t quit until he’s thrown up for the second time.”

“You were eight!” That isn’t the definition of adulthood in any culture you’ve ever heard of, and you immediately move to put your arms around your boyfriend. “I’m sorry, honey. I try to be supportive, but that’s bullshit.”

He’s embarrassed for a moment. Wondering if you are right since he has zero clue what a normal upbringing looks like. “Doesn’t matter.” He shrugs it off and tosses you a charming grin as he slides closer to press his lips to yours. A distraction. “Just you matters right now.”

Though you can’t say you have a lot of experience with addiction, drugs, intoxicants, any of that - you do know what it is to crave. From the first time Dieter kissed you in your dressing room the day you met, you’ve craved him. Needed to have him near and felt like a piece of you was missing when he wasn’t. Maybe you know more about addiction than you think you do. You kiss him and kiss him in that kitchen, drinks forgotten until the only thing in your mind are the small sounds of pleasure coming from both of you and the way he makes you weak in the knees with seemingly no effort at all.

Dieter has you pressed against the counter, loving how easily you give over. There’s no rehearsing, it’s just natural. He’s more…dominant with you, although you do like to explore. You love pleasure and he loves giving it to you.

“God.” A voice from a few yards away rings out a groan followed by a disbelieving laugh. “Just don’t fuck in the kitchen, okay you two?”

“No promises.” Dieter jokes over his shoulder. “Not when Bambi is as beguiling as she is.”

When he breaks apart from you, you bury your burning face in his chest to hide your embarrassment and cling to his sides for that support you crave. He’s your shield against the world and the fact that someone as extraordinary as Dieter wants you is making you re-examine how you perceive yourself altogether. “Beguiling, huh?” You tilt your head back and beam at him.

“I said what I said.” He purses his lips at you playfully. “Besides, it could be considered performance art if we did fuck in the kitchen.” He’s joking, he knows you would never go for that, but it’s fun to see you squirm.

“It would only be performance art for you!” You giggle, trying to smother the giddy idea that he’s planted in your head. It’s so wildly outside of the realm of possibility, but a fun fantasy to hang on to. “If I do it, it’s indecent exposure.”

“Nahhhhhh.” Dieter takes advantage of your leaning back to laugh to lean forward and nibble on your neck.

“Deeeee…” His name is always drawn out when you whine it, and your fingers clutch the front of his shirt in fists to keep him close. You don’t want him to stop, you just want him to know what he’s doing is driving you crazy.

“I’ve got you.” Dieter chuckles and nips just a touch harder. He likes it when you are all whiny and needy for him. “What do you want baby?”

“You.” The answer is always the same. It’s always him, in some way, shape, or form. If you were back at his place already you’d be dropping to your knees in front of him. He’s barely left your neck to breathe and you giggle between gasps. “Swear to god you’re a vampire.”

“I vant to suck your bloooood.” He intones in a theatrical voice, as good as any Dracula of the old movies.

It earns him more giggles, and you reach up to thread your fingers through his hair as you find his eyes. “Vampires are sexy, ya know. It could work.”

“I’ll have to get a role as a vampire.” He grins and pretends to bare his teeth. “Just for you, Bambi.”

******

It's a touch-and-go night in some ways, as some people seem to be fascinated by the revelation of your relationship with Dieter and others seem almost agitated by it. The production team is delighted, knowing that all of the attention will only do good things for the movie. And your castmates seem relieved that they no longer have a secret to keep mum about. For you and Dieter? You've been sitting by the hotel pool chatting amiably with whomever stops by and nursing your drinks out over a long time so that you always have one in hand but never let your behavior get out of hand – which would lead to hands on each other.

One of the people you don't recognize – maybe a significant other you weren't formally introduced to or a bold reporter, you can't tell – is smiling brightly to Dieter. They're chatting away about a horror movie he was in a few years ago when you suddenly gasp dramatically and look up at Dieter with wide eyes. "You played a vampire in that," you blurt out, puzzle pieces clicking together in your head.

Tilting his head, Dieter shoots you a confused expression. “Yeah?” He asks, not quite sure what you are getting at. You had told him that you hadn’t watched many of his movies after he had left. He was surprised you knew that it was a vampire movie.

“Jessie’s house party.” It’s like an anvil dropped on you, or a house, and you can feel yourself just staring. Sure you hadn’t gone to see his movies in theaters, but you always eventually saw them in the dark secrecy of your own apartment. That one had just slipped your attention. “You said you were going to play a vampire for me one day.”

It clicks and he bites his lip. “Oh yeah.” He murmurs softly. “You haven’t seen it.” He motions towards the person he is talking to. “What’s the name of the vampire’s obsession?” He asks, not wanting to be the one to tell you.

“It’s…” The man looks between the two of you, confused. “It was some…bimbo name, wasn’t it?”

“Bambi.” Your mouth runs dry and you can practically feel your jaw unhinge at the same time that your eyes widen. “I—it…it was Bambi. Wasn’t it?”

“Bambi!” he explains, slapping his hands on his thigh. “That was it! Never understood why they named the lead ‘Bambi’.” He huffs, shaking his head. Dieter shrugs.

“I’m the one who chose it.” He says, remembering how he had insisted, even threatening to drop from the movie if ‘Deandra’ wasn’t changed to ‘Bambi’. The executive producer had accused him of trying to change it to some misogynist soft porn but he had been adamant and eventually got his way.

Your gentle hold on Dieter’s hand tightens immediately. You won’t start gushing in front of this stranger, but the silent signal to Dee is obvious. “I, um…I think it works well. Ya know…it codes the character as innocent. Naive, even.”

“It makes sense considering she was the one to destroy the vampire.” He reconsiders it, maybe even a little embarrassed that he might have insulted Dieter. “In that case, I like it.”

He wanders away before it can get awkward, making the excuse that he needs a fresh drink, but you just tug Dieter into your arms the second he’s gone. “Bambi, huh?” You murmur, holding him as tight as you can.

“Yeah.” Dieter shrugs slightly, embarrassed. “Got called a pig for that.”

“It’s a slightly unusual nickname.” If you weren’t wearing a delicate piece of artwork in the form of a full face of makeup, you would be burying your face in his chest immediately as you hug him. “I’ve always liked it, though.”

“I know you do.” Dieter hems and haws a little bit before he decides to ask. “You really didn’t know the name of the lead female character?”

“I didn’t.” You shake your head, shrugging guiltily. “It normally takes a while for me to muster up the courage to watch your movies…I always get nostalgic and it was a lot of emotions before. But I always do see them eventually. I know I said I didn’t…I just didn’t want you to know then that I…I missed you enough to watch them anyway.”

He can acknowledge that he was enough of a dick to deserve that. “I get it.” He promises quietly. “Maybe we’ll sit down and watch it together. I normally don’t watch my own shit, but I’ll make an exception for you.”

“Seriously?” He makes a rule of it. You know that. It was one of the wisdoms handed down from his father. “That would be pretty big for you, baby.”

“I’d do it for you.” He’s planning on actually watching the movie at the premier this time. For you. For your acting.

“I love you, too.” It’s nothing short of a miracle for Dieter to break his biggest rules and you know it.

******

“Don’t worry babe, you’re going to win.” Dieter hums, the buzz of the night not one brought on by chemical influence but by pure joy at the thought. As predicted, you had been nominated, for a second year in a row. This time Dieter is also nominated as well as the film itself. The red carpet had been trodden down together and the two of you had played your near year as a couple up slightly. Still shocking people that Dieter had lasted this long and that the two of you seem to glow happily.

“We don’t know that. We can’t know that.” After all, a Golden Globe win is no guarantee of an Oscar. You’d gotten one of those last year and not the Academy Award. Still, you clutch his hand as you sit down together in the front row and smile through the nerves.

“Please.” He scoffs and smirks. “They wouldn’t have put you in the front row so you can get on stage quickly in that dress if you aren’t winning.”

“Or they only put me in the front row because they wanted you here for your award.” You counter, not admitting that he has a point. The spectacular red and gold satin Carolina Herrera ball gown you have on is one of a kind and made specifically for you – and rather worth showing off.

“Nahhhhh.” He knows you are going to win. “They want me as far back as possible to keep my speech time short.”

“We’ll see.” You really have been trying not to jinx yourself, and you squeeze his hand tightly. “What do you want to bet?”

“If you win, you have to tell everyone up on stage you love me.” He teases, picking up your joined hands and kissing the back of yours.

“I would do that anyway.” His hand gets a kiss in turn. “Try again.”

He huffs, rolling his eyes and you and then leans in with a grin on his face. “You have to let me fuck you during the after party.”

“Scandalous.” But your tone makes it clear that you’re more amused than aghast, and you smirk right back at him while you enjoy the sparkle of mischief in his eyes. “Deal. Although this dress is going to be a challenge.”

“I rise to challenges.” He’s already though about how he would fuck you in this dress. “Or at least let me duck under it.”

“Whatever you want.” You promise him, knowing that he’s much better at self control these days when it comes to not doing anything reckless in public. This is…call it a treat. This is a treat for him. “But if you win?” Pretending to think, you tap your chin and grin. “We’re taking a little vacation. My treat. Anywhere you want to go.”

“That’s dangerous.” He laughs. “What if we both win?” It’s a possibility for sure this time.

“Then we do both?” It wouldn’t kill the two of you to take a break. In the year since the film you made together wrapped, you’ve both filmed at least one other project and done plenty of other professional work. You stay extremely busy.

“We could. Might be good to be seen ‘frolicking’ on a beach somewhere?” He hums in amusement. “Or we could do something really unusual. Normal, even.”

“What would we do that’s normal?” You emphasize the word, pretending to be disgusted by it.

“Why don’t we do a cruise?” His eyes light up. “Be completely cheesy and pretend we aren’t Hollywood stars and book a normal cruise. Pretend like we don’t know what’s going on.”

“Like a normal couple.” It’s quite sweet, actually, and you lean over to kiss him. “Alright. You’re on. We’ll go on a cruise and be totally normal for once.”

“But can we have a balcony room?” Dieter asks, pouting slightly. “I don’t like the interior rooms. Too confining.”

“I promise.” The grin you shoot him is beaming. “Whatever you want.”

“Ladies and gentlemen….” The announcer comes over the speakers and Dieter can’t help but bite his lip happily. “Showtime.” He leans over and kisses your cheek for luck.

It’s a long night, but awards nights always are. Waiting through all the other categories for your own is a special kind of torture, until the presenter for Best Actress finally steps out on stage.

“It’s going to be you.” Dieter repeats, completely sure of it. Of course the two of you have played up for the cameras but the night has been fun. “I know it.”

“Nervous.” One mumbled word comes through, and you squeeze his hands tightly in your own. You haven’t let his go for hours and you’re not about to now. You’re terrified, honestly, but mostly because you don’t want to disappoint him. He’s so sure and you’re so scared that you’ll fall short again.

“Don’t be.” Dieter turns and stares into your eyes. “No matter what, no matter whose name is called, I’m proud of you. I’m so fucking proud of you, Bambi.”

“You’ve got me.” He’s always told you he does, and always meant it, and the calm that knowing it brings to you runs so deep that you almost don’t even hear your own name being called. “I—what??”

“They just called your name.” Dieter beams and rockets you up out of your chair to hug you. He can’t get up on the stage with you, but his kiss can linger on your lips.

“They—” The camera that swings around you gets the perfect shot of the congratulatory kiss, but you don’t even register what’s happening aside from Dee being the one to tell you that you’ve won. He takes two steps forward with you to make sure you’re steady on your feet before sitting back down in his seat, but you swear you’re just flying. Making it on stage is a whirlwind, and you swallow thickly when the statue is placed in your hands before you turn to face the podium. There’s a time indicator just inside your line of sight but you look down, right at Dieter in the front row.

“Thank you.” You clear your throat, dabbing tears away and letting the smile on your face grow even larger. “Thank you to the Academy for this prestigious recognition and award, first and foremost. Thank you to my unbelievably talented cast mates, our phenomenal crew, our brilliant production team, and a grateful thanks to my family at home who still don’t quite understand why I do what I do, but love me with all their might anyway.” The audience laughs softly but your eyes never leave Dieter. “This is an honour that I’ve dreamt of for my entire life, and it is a validation of decades of hard work. I’m grateful.”

The speech you had written is still tucked into the pocket of your dress, left for a memory. You have something else you want to say in this moment, as your heart hammers and your pulse quickens to double time. “And thank you, from the bottom of my heart, to you, Dee.” The cameras that pan to Dieter now are intentional – not catching a fleeting expression but ready for whatever comes next. “Thank you for challenging me as often as you support me. For being the push I need to face my fears and the arms that welcome me home when things don’t quite go as planned. Thank you for the professional and personal growth that I know never would have happened without you. I love you, I will always love you, and I hope we have a thousand more adventures ahead of us.”

"I love you too! Finish your speech!" Dieter calls out towards the stage, his own face reflecting pride and love as he grins at the way the entire theater bursts into laughter and applause.

You can’t help but laugh, the beaming smile on your face coming with a shake off your head. “The end of my speech?” The little timer in the edge of your line of sight is almost at the end, and you swallow, looking back down at him with renewed courage. Didn’t you just say you wanted adventure? “It’s just one sentence, and it’s a question for you.” The whole room seems to take a breath at once, and you can see your co-stars turning to stare at him in the front few rows. “Dieter Bravo, will you marry me?”

His jaw drops in shock and it seems like the entire venue, maybe even the world are holding their breath as they wait for his answer. He can't believe that you just asked him to marry you, but your grin hides the slightly panicked worry in your eyes. As if he would say no. He stands up and huffs: "Took you long enough to ask!" He answers playfully. "Of course I'm going to marry you, Bambi!"

Disbelieving applause and hollers pulse through the crowd as you move to the edge of the stage to meet him for a kiss before being ushered backstage. You’ll see him again in just minutes, but for right now your heart is beating out of your chest. You actually just did that. And he actually said yes!

Dieter accepts the congratulations of nearly everyone seated around the pair of you, your little proposal almost overshadowing the most important part. Now he's going to ask you if you were serious.

You make it back to your seat after the next award, right as the commercial break hits. The statue that will bear your name has been handed off to be engraved and without it in your hands you can practically drive back into Dieter’s arms in the seats.

“Tell me that wasn’t just to be on every Hollywood and Academy Awards reel for the rest of time?” He begs, immediately pressing his lips to yours as soon as the words are out of his mouth.

“They just got the benefit of me finally getting the balls to ask.” One—two—three quick kisses shared between you leave the two of you grinning breathlessly. “I mean it, baby. You and me. Forever.”

“I want a marvelously tacky ring.” Dieter warns you with a waggle of his brows. “Maybe a different kind of ring of engagement.”

“I knew you were going to want something alternative.” Giggling into another chaste kiss, you slip your hand into his and squeeze it tightly. “You wanna go shopping tomorrow? Engagement rings of all varieties?”

“You think they have diamond cock rings?” He asks quietly as they announce the category for Best Actor in a drama.

“Already looked into it,” you promise in a whisper. Thank god for incognito mode on your browser, you’d thought it would be a silly birthday gift.

“Yessss.” He ignores the playback of the movie as he leans in to kiss you.

It’s the second time tonight that one of you hears the announcement before the other, and you pull back from Dieter with an excited squeak. “Baby, baby—” You grip his arms tightly. “You did it! It’s you!”

Dieter blinks a few moments and then he realizes what you are saying, pulling you up with him to kiss you again before he makes his way to the stage this time. He’s congratulated and hands are shaken, his only thoughts that nothing is going to top this. Not professionally, anyway.

“Tonight I thought that my co-star, my lover and my fiancée was going to win.” He starts out, shaking his head and looking down at the statue and then back at you in the audience. “I didn’t even have a speech prepared, I was so sure I wasn’t going to win. So yeah, I want to thank everyone on the movie, thank my fiancée for her performance and….”

Dieter bites his lip and looks out over the sea of people in the audience. He sees Dustin Mulray and Lauren Van Chance sitting together and acting lovey again for the fifteenth time and Carol Cobb is a presenter, not an actual member of the academy, but she is glaring at him from her seat. She still blames him for her bad press around Cliff Beasts 6. “I’m done.” Dieter decides. “Tonight, I am retiring from film. This will be my last one of these, so thank you.” He holds the golden statue up in the air and pumps it in gratitude before bowing slightly.

The ripple of a shocked gasp cuts through the crowd, but you feel a very different reaction for yourself – almost laughing in your seat as you clap for him. The people around you start to applaud slowly, and sure enough that ripple takes over the crowd instead until the entirety of the theater is clapping as Dieter is ushered off stage. Between the two of you, you’ve certainly made a splash tonight…

Backstage, it’s a rush to get Dieter back to his seat but everyone asks if he’s serious. He is. And now that he’s said it out loud, he’s almost….relieved. The idea has been talked about more but nothing definite had been done, now he’s taken that first step. Although he wonders what you think about that.

There’s a commercial break when he gets back to his seat, mercifully, and you grab his hands immediately. You’re with him, he must know that, but you search his face. “You couldn’t just say thanks and walk off stage?” You ask, stifling laughter at how shocked everyone is. “Do you…are you serious?”

“I am.” Dieter nods, giving you an almost relieved grin. “It’s not– nothing will beat this. Not in my current life. Winning with you– it’s the way I want to go out.”

“Well…” Lifting one of his hands to your mouth, you press a kiss to his palm and offer him a supportive smile. “Whatever you want to do, Dee. Full retirement, new career, house husband, whatever. Or if you want to start scouting theater locations, we can do that, too. As long as you’re happy.” He’s taking control of his life, which is something he’s never been able to do, and for that you have to be proud of him.

“I do want to do the theater.” Dieter admits quietly. “I don’t expect you to retire or give up your career. I just–” he sighs softly. “I hate film. Honestly. I always have.”

“I only care that you’re happy,” you promise him. “Whatever it is that's going to do that, we’ll do it together.” The grin you flash at him is a little guilty. “I might pop away once in a while to make a movie or I might not. We’ll have to see.”

“You should.” Dieter urges, bending down to kiss your hands, one then the other. “I love you. I don’t want this to just be about me. I’ve been selfish enough for my entire life plus twelve more.”

“I love you, too.” The two of you get to share one more quick kiss before the cameras whir to life again and the broadcast is back from commercial. Only Best Picture remains, but it doesn’t matter if you win. You have the best prize in the world sitting in the seat right next to you.

Watching you up on stage again, this time for Best Picture, Dieter claps and whistles from the audience, aware that you deserve this. His Bambi has become a certifiable star. One that he hopes never dims.

******

Jet lag is one of the worst feelings in the entire world, bar none. It sticks to you and dogs your brain and makes you ache, and half the time it even stops your thoughts from making sense. Right now you feel like a jumbled puzzle as Sadie presses a travel mug of fresh tea into your hands then bundles you into a car at the airport to head for home. Four months was a hell of a long time to be gone, and it feels like even more, but at least you didn’t miss any important holidays or birthdays this time. In fact – you’re ahead of the curve. It’s opening night of a new show tonight and there is nothing more exciting or enticing than getting to surprise your husband on the occasion.

Dieter rushes around, his headset half off as he shouts towards the stagehands. “To the left!” He orders. The thrill of opening night is only measured equally by the stress, but it’s honestly something he has come to love. The students have worked their asses off and they deserve tonight to go off without too many hitches. There are always issues in live performance, it’s to be expected and anticipated as much as possible. It’s his job to make sure that they are equipped with the knowledge and training to work through it and deliver a sound performance to the audience.

Desiree checks her watch discreetly, expecting to see a text from her wife when she gets you back in the car from the house. Just because Dieter had left Hollywood behind didn’t mean that she was going to leave his side — and now her job as a theater administrator means she’s his right hand in a whole other way. When the text eventually comes through, she grins and moves through the space to tap Dieter on the shoulder. “Keep going.” She murmurs conspiratorially. “I’m going to make sure the kids aren’t getting into any of the concessions candy.”

“You know they are.” Dieter chuckles, rolling his eyes at the antics that his children can get into. “They are mine after all.”

“Only two of them.” She flashes him a grin. She and Sadie had opted to adopt, and it means that those three kids have become a sort of whirlwind trio as the years tick by. “I’ll be right back,” she assures him before hustling out of the theater.

With Desiree off to wrangle the kids, Dieter turns back towards the chaos that is backstage before opening night. Putting out a handful of fires and drying a few anxious tears, most people who knew Dieter during his adult acting career in Hollywood wouldn’t recognize him. No longer the flighty, unpredictable actor, he had built this school with your help as one that would produce solid performers regardless of their background.

You don’t really get to sneak in this property – everyone who works or goes to class here knows you – but Sadie drops you off at the stage door of the main building with a grin and zips off to the main entrance to park the car and pop in on Desiree. You’ve showered, changed, and wrapped up Dieter’s opening night gift to be tucked into your purse. He’s done immense work here and you’re so incredibly proud of the man he’s become through all of his own hard work. If once in a while you show it with a gift, that seems completely reasonable, right?

He doesn’t have a chance to check his phone, too busy to even pull it out of his pocket so he doesn’t even know if you’ve texted him. The kids are cleaned up – two KitKats and a box of milk duds have been sacrificed to their sweet tooth – and they are eagerly heading off to sit in a box that is reserved for family and friends. A stagehand is sitting with them so they don’t run off, but he knows as soon as the lights go down, his kids will be glued to their seats.

Carefully slipping in through the side door of the theater, you tuck yourself into the crowd to watch the show. Eurydice is a brilliant piece of stage work in the right hands, and Dee’s deft directing combined with the raw talents of some of these kids is truly breathtaking. If you privately enjoy it a little more because it’s by the same playwright who wrote the show you did on Broadway together? That’s just a little extra nugget.

He knows that the kids are taken care of, so Dieter focuses completely on the play, every act, every scene perfectly coordinated and timed. He holds his breath when one of the boys stumbles, but he quickly recovers and delivers his line with the same tenacity that had come through in rehearsals.

It’s gorgeous, really, and when the audience gets to its feet during the curtain call you stand with them right away. Whistles and cheers come from every corner as the cast takes their bows. In the front row in the corner, you can see Dieter in this customary seat, waving his thanks in between giving his own applause to the cast. It takes a few long minutes before people start to file out of their seats and out to the lobby for the opening night party, but you have somewhere to be. Up some hidden steps and around the corner, you pop your head into the little box seat where Desiree and Sadie are sitting with the kids, ready to surprise them and bring them down so the three of you can congratulate their dad together.

Your youngest is the first one to see you. The movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention. "Mom!" She squeals, jumping up and rushing over to throw herself into your arms.

“Hey baby girl.” At ten years old, she still likes big hugs and doesn’t mind you being a little mushy, but even her much-too-cool older brother pops out of his seat when he hears your voice. “Surprise, guys!” You laugh, bathing in the bliss of having both of your kids hug the life out of you. “Did you like Dad’s show?”

“It’s okay.” He shrugs his shoulders and gestures towards the stage. “Act two, scene one, they missed the queue and flipped the lines.”

You snort softly, leaning over to press a kiss to your son’s head. “You know you’re the toughest critic in this place, so only finding one thing to point out is pretty good.”

“Still–” at twelve, Diego Bravo was just as arrogant as his father in some aspects, having grown up in this theater and knowing the plays better than some producers. Whenever he wasn’t in school, he was here – when he couldn’t convince you to let him come with you on your film locations.

“Still, we should go say hi to Dad, yeah?” You squeeze them both tight again and grin when Mia clings to your side. She’s still young enough that she’s not going to let you go, and you’re going to cherish that for as long as it lasts.

“Dad doesn’t know you’re here?” Diego’s eyes widen and he grins. “He might cry, you know.”

“I came to surprise you two goofs first.” The tip of your finger bops both of their noses. “C’mon, let’s go down to the party.” Opening night and closing night parties are a beautiful example of when this theater really feels like family – they’re never a big deal but they’re always so much damn fun. Just some bottles of bubbly and some snacks for the cast, crew, and their loved ones with music pouring through the speakers in the theater lobby, but everyone always dances and it’s always a great way to celebrate hard work.

For a man who was very seriously into drugs, he keeps the theater drug free. Maybe it’s because there’s nowhere to hide things that he’s not already thought of or the policy of one strike and you’re blacklisted strikes fear into most of the student’s hearts, there are rarely incidents. He explains it every time a new class is on boarded. He was exposed to drugs at a very young age by the man who was supposed to protect him. While they are in his school, they are under his protection. There will be plenty of that shit available in the real world, but oftentimes, it makes you unusable as an actor. The only real reason he got away with the shit he did was because of his legacy in Hollywood.

He’s in the middle of having this conversation with a party guest who brought their vape when you come downstairs with the kids, so you steer them to the bar to get some ginger ale rather than disturb your husband. You’ve heard him give this speech plenty and it sounds to be nearly over, so you can happily wait. Sadie and Desiree have brought their daughter down as well, and she and your kids might as well be on another planet as far as paying attention to things anyway. Ginger ale for them and bubbly for the three adults, you grab a fourth glass to bring over to Dee as you can hear him finishing talking to the random party guest.

Dieter feels a hand on his arm just as he nods to the guest. “It turned out good, didn’t it, Des?” He thinks Desiree is touching him and when he turns, his eyes blow wide and his jaw drops. “You!” Speechless at the sight of his wife and all time favorite human besides his kids, in front of him. “You’re supposed to be in Jakarta!”

“Surprise!” You and the kids shout all at once, and you hold out a glass to him while they collapse into a giggling fit. “I raced through the last few days of filming to get home early. Congratulations, baby. The show was beautiful.”

“Oh my god, I–” Dieter rushes forward and wraps his arms around you. “You must be exhausted. Have you slept at all? You liked it? They did a great job. Best show yet, but don’t tell the last class I said that.”

“I won’t say a word,” you promise him, hugging him tight against you and breathing in the familiar, calming scent of his cologne. “I slept on the plane. Didn’t want to be too out of it so that I could change and come straight here after landing in Seattle.”

“I can’t believe you came.” He had talked to you yesterday but he knows that there are times where your filming schedule will interfere with the theater productions.

“I missed you.” It’s sweet to see that Diego was right – that there are soft tears forming behind Dieter’s eyes. The son is so much like the father in some ways that it makes sense when he can guess at those reactions. Thankfully, Dieter had made sure that your son and daughter grew up in a much more supportive and caring environment than he ever had.

“I missed you too, I always miss you.” He presses his lips to yours, not even minding the quiet groans that come from the kids. They can be embarrassed all they want. He’s not seen you in nearly two months.

“I’m proud of you.” When you finally part, you’re beaming at him with that same warmth that you’ve always had. The smile of a woman completely besotted with her partner. “And I’m so glad I’m home.”

“You will have to sleep when we get home.” He frowns slightly, knowing you must be exhausted. “We won’t stay long.”

“We can stay as long as you want.” No one who knew the Hollywood version of Dieter would believe it if they saw him now. Attentive and caretaking, he’s come into his own as a teacher and a father. Like he was always meant for this life all along. “You deserve to celebrate with your cast.”

“I’d rather let the younger kids celebrate their hard work while I celebrate in a bubble bath with my wife.” Dieter suggests, sliding around you and hunching around your back. “What do you think?”

“Mmm, that is awfully tempting, Mr. Bravo.” It sounds like heaven, actually. Especially after twenty-three hours of travel. “That sounds very, very tempting.”

“It should tempt you.” Dieter chuckles. “I have a bottle of that wine you love in the wine fridge. Found it last weekend.”

“So hot bath, naked husband, and my favorite rosé?” When you turn your head to kiss his lips again, he’s right there smirking at you and waggling his eyebrows. It works – it always works – and you giggle into the kiss. “Consider me seduced.”

“Yessss.” Dieter hisses under his breaths and then nuzzles his nose against your neck. “Go to bed kids, daddy’s getting laid tonight.” He doesn’t speak loud enough for anyone but you to hear.

“Oh yeah.” It earns him an amused giggle and another kiss before you turn around in his arms to face him. “It’s been months,” you murmur back. “You’re absolutely getting laid.”

“Video chatting just isn’t the same.” He hums. The sex drive has ultimately slowed down, he is nearing 49 this year, but he still wants you. Always wants you.

"Thought I might stay home for a while." The last year or so has been busy. You took a mini-series that had you filming overseas and then this last movie was a lot of stunts and action, which was fun but a lot more exhausting than it used to be. More and more you find that you just want to be home with your family. "Diego's gonna be a teenager this summer. I feel like that's just trouble waiting to happen." He is, after all, a whole lot like his father. Mischief runs in the Bravo blood.

“He’s asked if he can submit an application.” Dieter tells you quietly. “He wants to attend the theater.”

"How do you feel about that?" The policy of not letting anyone under teen age take classes at the academy had kept Diego at bay for the last few years, but you knew it was only a matter of time. The kid is ecstatic in the theater and has a real eye for it. But considering everything Dieter went through as a kid, it has to be his call. He has to be okay with letting Diego become an actor if that's what he wants to do.

“I don’t think it’s right to keep the kid from what he loves.” Dieter acknowledges. “But he has to keep his grades up.”

"Agreed." It's a very big step for Dieter to be okay with this, and your thumbs smooth gently over his arms. "And he has to audition just like everyone else."

“I’ve decided I’m not going to be the one to look over his audition.” Dieter murmurs quietly. “He’s going to be pissed when he finds that out.”

"I think it's a good idea." And actually? You're glad that you don't have to be the one to suggest it. "No favoritism that way. But you could help him prep a little. I bet he would love that."

"I'll suggest that." He smiles at you, grateful that you have the answer for what he needs to do.

"Do you want to give him the application for his birthday?" He seems a lot more relaxed after just a few minutes of talking about it, but it really is down to how much he loves his kids. Against all odds, Dieter Bravo turned out to be a great dad, and you hope his selflessness and his unconditional support is making Baxter roll over in his grave.

"I think he would like that." Dieter grins, and nods. He pulls you closer and inhales your scent, something so soothing to him.

"You're a good dad, Dee." Holding him tight against you, you press a kiss to his cheek and sigh happily. Being home a few days early was well worth all the extra work that you did to get here. "And your family loves you."

"That's all I could ever ask for, Bambi." He admits quietly, sighing as he relaxes for the first time since you left. His family and his theater are all that he needs. He still gets calls, directors begging him to work with them, to star in their movies. To come back to Hollywood. He turns them all down. He had said he was done. He had told his father years ago that he wanted to be on the stage, and he had meant it, he was just behind the scenes now and it was the most fulfilling work he's ever done. Besides winning you back. Without you, none of this was possible. You are his greatest muse.

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

My Masterlist!

[intertexts]

TRIVIA TIIIIIME. THIS IS ONE OF THE LONGEST ONES YET !!!! IM SO FUCKING HYPE FOR U TO BE HERE THIS IS A BIG MILESTONE

EPISODE 13 TRIVIA:

- FIRST OFFICIAL PIECE OF MARK WINTERS ART !!!!!! HELL YEAAAAAH THIS ONE IS SO FUCKING COOL. this man haunts me

- bizly is talking about how he was fucking SWEATING all week before they recorded this ep bc he thought for sure william and vyncent were gonna just get in there and mirder the lich immediately. grizzly starts to say something like "no i wont-" and bizly cuts him off like "im not worried about YOU. youre my shining star, my golden boy"

- charlie, in response to this: "well. you should feel better because i cant even win against a WALL"

- grizzly: "i was really hoping youd take the bait and depower the villains. i was hoping to give you a cool idea with that"

- "the lich shouldnt even be alive, hes undead, hes breaking the laws of-"

charlie, interrupting "OKAYYY HEY NOW LETS NOT SAY THINGS LIKE THAT" << GETTING. INSULTED ON WILLIAMS BEHALF. AHA

- Dakotas memory about his dad pranking him in the car is an ACTUAL THING THAT GRIZZLYS DAD USED TO DO !?!?!?!!

- "william took 4 degrees of failure from punching a wall so hard your bone popped out" "yeah kind of like how i took 4 degrees of failure from sniffing a bag of doritos. kind of like how i took 4 degrees of failure from dakota comically picking me up and throwing me into a dumpster. all my trips to the spirit world are so pathetic"

- bizly: "okay let me say. you were going to go to the spirit world at the end of this regardless, i just saw an opportunity there and took it. originally i was gonna have you see a wisp while you were alive and follow it through a door or something" << AAURGRHRGHRGGH. i loooove talking abt williams powers

- HELLOOOOO THE FUCKING ANIMATIC. GOD. MAKES ME FUCKING CRAZY

- they all want to do a body swap episode. fully freaky friday moment where they cant switch back until they learn something about each other. i also want them to do this i think it would be funny

- bizly: "i love dakota dakota is one of my favorite characters in media."

(bizly: "because i relate to him"

charlie: "well THATS worrying.")

- "dakota doesnt necessarily *ignore* the why when thing happen hes just really... slow. it takes him a long time to reflect on things. it either takes him a really long time to process things and come to a conclusion OR he will just pull sage wisdom out of thin air because hes so simple minded. he'll just think for a really long time before he comes to these ideals that ive written for him as a player. itll come around, it'll just take him a long time to get there. as a player i know what kind of hero i want dakota to end up as at the end of it all" << i cant even add anything to this. grizzlyplays i am shaking you like a sack of rocks

- another mention about how dakota and chip riptide would be best friends i love this recurring bit

- "what did you guys think about seeing wavelength in the prison"

"uhh. hes mean :("

"it was awesome seeing him again, he scares me"

"it made me feel guilty that we havent found ashe yet"

- grizzly: "if he gets out of prison im gonna kill him" << HEAD IN HANDS

- "william wisp experiences incompetence consistently"

- hey remember in the episode how when william rolled to see if he was okay breathing inside the prison cell and bizly said something along the lines of "youre only hyperventilating because you *think* you should be, youre actually fine" << think about this in context with what you know now :) and hold onto it for the beginning of 14

- theyre talking about what happened between william and mark over the 10 month timeskip: william contacted him at some point, not really about anything in particular, just to ask him if he knew anything about ashe that could help thsm find him/updating him on their progress finding ashe. then when they started playing again william stopped contacting him (for meta reasons, charlie just forgot that was an option BUT) bizly took note of that anyway and thats why mark was so hostile right off the bat. he just like. stopped hearing things from william and didnt know what was going on anymore. so when they showed up here and had no update on ashe whatsoever it just made him think they werent actually doing anything to find him

- grizzly: "man you would thing being in prison and losing his son would give this man some perspective and adjust his personality but he just became more of an asshole"

bizly: "no, the problem is youre not thinking about it from his perspective!! youre only thinking about it from dakotas point of view where hes a villain and hes doing bad things so hes bad. hes just a guy who thought he was doing what he had to do to keep his son safe"

charlie: "okay but he like locked his son up forever"

bizly: "yeah i never said he was a good person! and then some teenagers came along and made him rebel and now he wants to be a super hero and the first thing that happens is he gets possessed" << THANK YOUUUU BIZLY. THANK YOU BIZLY. JUSTICE FOR MY HORRIBLE MAN

- they keep referring to overlord as "alligator guy" because they forgot his name. charlie even at one point goes "yeah and he was a crocodile or whatever, dont you know those are power level 9" << this will never stop being funny to me

- "HEY WILLIAM what do you think about dying again"

- charlie is Very concerned about the no blood thing. his theory rn is that the archway he saw was like "crossing over" for ghosts. like fully passing on and not being ghosts anymore. seeing himself/his memories in the prison cells was very poetic, he kind of feels trapped by himself right now. hes the most curious about the 5 empty chairs and what that could possibly mean

- theyre trying to figure out who the group of 5 could possibly be. williams old group didnt have 5 people, prime defenders doesnt have 5 people even with ashe so they have no ideas right now and are excited to find out more :)

- "williams pretty fucked up right now to be honest!!! we just spent an episode and a half arguing about how we're allowed to kill the lich because its undead and not human. and then he learns hes fucking deteriorating. uh oh! now hes probabky thinking 'am i even a person?' i dont even know if he knows what to think about the spirit world right now i think hes just kind of panicked"

- "if only the ghost of party city were here, hed know what to say about this"

- "how is vyncent feeling right now?" "hes still kind of pissed. his one goal of killing the lich after all these years was just ripped away from him. hes accepted it for now but if that lich escapes. man hes gonna go nuts"

SUCH an insanely good episode dude hoooooly shit. head in hands. everybody say thank u bizlychannel!!!!! man. this was SO good man it really does feel like.... not a turning point, necessarily, but very important. honestly, really glad that by now they've had time to really like, sit with their characters & the world & let it all steep for a while? this season already really feels like such a tonal shift & kind of a step up frm season 1 so far!! (NOT that season 1 also wasn't really fucking good. but a lot of what we've got in s2 so far feels a lot more settled and cohesive) im here for it!!! LOVED the animatic that shit was crazy. if thats a precedent they're setting now im gonna go wild.

I ALSO THOUGHT THEY WERE GONNA MURDER THE LICH. i was like ohhhh great this is how we get the vigilante on the run arc its gonna be so bad theyre never gonna see tide again. phew!!!! i mean, i, too, still think the lich should be dead. but. also yeah WHAT DO YOU MEAAAN THATS A REAL THING HIS DAD DID. FUCKING CRAZY.

what else.. having so many thoughts about william's Situation . as always. man. it's so fucked up. i have no clue where any of it's going dude... the only thought i have is that i don't think. we have any real context for the five thrones thing yet. i don't think that's related to anything we already know except. mayyybe mal. i think that's some spirit world-specific bullshit! we'll see though. we'll see.

YEAH <333 DAKOTA IS ONE OF MY FAVORITE CHARACTERS IN MEDIA TOO <33333 auaurrghghhggghhh. ohh hes so everything 2 me. also i love seeing characters who don't Get Everything Immediately. like yeah! you got time to parse through it all in yr brain man. hell yeah rotate it in ur mind for weeks before coming to a conclusion!! no one has their entire belief system hammered out in advance!!

+ also feeling fucking unhinged over mark winters. as always.

[rememberthelaughtermp3]

YEAAHH dont ?? cause you think you should you dont owe anybbody anything youre better off when you were honest quit ??? in boxes??? that you cant get ???? make sensse to me you brought it all onto yourself your ??? wont last foreverrrYEAH we wont go bac k ever again we wong to back every again give it tiiiiime some spaaace be suuure give it ? ??? ???? ? ? be ???? i suffer trying to be exactly what you want ?????idkwhatsgoingon???? ???? oooooooo we wont go back ever again we wont go back ever again we wont go back ever again we wont go bcak ever again ???/ give it tiiiiime some spaaace be suuuure give it ????? ????? ?? be ????? we wont go back ever again we wont go back ever again we wont go back ever again we wont go back ever again wew ont go back ever again (ooooo) we wont go back ever again we wont go back ever again we wont go back ever again ???????

and thats my theory i think

im gonna actually diei think if the lyrics to that part are give it time give it space be sure give it love (???). i will actually perish

[morethan-oatmealandfruit]

TW: weight talk, no numbers

Can't tell if I'm doing great in recovery, developing an overeating issue slowly, or if it's all just my meds.. I've been eating much more than I did at the beginning of recovery (after I had recovered from my surgery, as there were different nutritional requirements between then and now) but I'm on a medication that makes literally everyone who's ever taken it (basically) gain a ton of weight because it makes you HUNGRY AF ALL THE TIIIIIME.. I feel like I'm literally anorexic again (hunger-wise), just in a weight-restored body. I absolutely HAVE to take it for my nerve damage (compressed nerves in my spine and other bone-on-nerve damage throughout my body) because no one will give me anything else right now-thanks addicts who abuse pain management places so they suspect everyone just wants to get high!🙄-so I've been trying to eat my maintenance calories but every night I'm up in excruciating pain from the permanent damage done to my body from starvation and my exercise addiction, and I have to take this med when I wake up and again like 5 hours before "bed" (when I lay in bed and sit up doom scrolling all night in pain trying to ignore my hunger until I give in and have a snack..or a few😅). The medicine helps enough to make me keep taking it and I never ate so much that I threw up like with actual BED (I have really bad acid reflux so that happens all the time anyway so I couldn't tell even if I did I guess?🤷🏻‍♀️) but I did eat to a state of being uncomfortably full once. Most days it's just a normal amount of food for someone who isn't sedentary like I'm forced to be due to to the permanent physical disabilities I've developed from my ED/exercise addicted past, but for me in particular it's kinda a lot (but tbh I have difficulty knowing what's a "normal" amount of food due to my long-term ED) and I've gained a lot of weight in recovery already (as I needed to), so being sedentary on this type of the med is causing extra weight gain on top of that. (I might even be overweight at this point; not in the plus sized section and my husband blind weighed me a few months ago and I wasn't overweight, but I've gone up yet another size since then so..). Trying not to let it bother me too much. Definitely better off than before!

But today from the start I decided not to measure absolutely everything/go all day without eating so maybe eating all my food later would satisfy the demon that is these meds, and instead had a decent breakfast, I never do lunch so I just had some crackers and cheese midday, and a big dinner with my husband's bit of leftovers- and I'm going to allow myself to have an extra snack later at night because maybe then the medication-side-effect demon will be satisfied while I'm waiting for my sleep meds to knock me out..they don't work as well with the severe pain, so I'm up all night off and on eating and trying to pee (spinal stenosis is one of my symptoms and it makes it really hard to pee all at once so it takes me like an hour to pee completely😡)

So that's all tough to face, but definitely not as tough as anorexia and I'm still more healthy (in the ways that are possible for me now) than I was as an anorexic, even if I'm a bit overweight by now.

I always knew being a bit overweight was definitely better than being an anorexic, so I'm probably living proof at this point 😂

[chloethepayne]

December (Sara Bareilles cover)

i've had a tradition for a few years to share some melancholy music on my youtube channel around this time, cuz it helps me get through the weird holiday season. this year's song is called December, and it's particularly special cuz the music of Sara bareilles has gotten me through some tiiiiimes...!!!

in case anyone else out there has ever really needed to hear these words like i have, here are the lyrics of this holy moly mindblowing catharsis bridge:

"distill a whole year down into a day

act like we all start over with a pristine slate

but to get yourself a new life you've got to give the other one away

and i'm starting to believe in the power of a name

cuz it can't be a mistake if i just call it change"

*me screaming crying throwing up, talented brilliant incredible amazing, i need to go lie down just wow wow wooooow somebody call my therapist*

anyway.

hope everyone is making it through the season okay.

take care of yourselves and take care of each other.

#screamingcryingthrowingup #talentedbrilliantincredibleamazingshowstoppingspectacularneverthesametotallyunique

#december #decembersong #mentalhealth #mentalhealthholidays #alliwantforchristmasismentalhealth #sarabareilles

#sarabareillescover #ukulele #ukulelecover #queermusic #queermusician #transmusic #transmusician #nonbinarymusicians #theythem #sigh #iamgonnamakeitthroughthisyearifitkillsme

[shadowfae]

Rani: answers an ask

The fact that I really need to rewrite my questioning guide for a third time: haunting noises intensify

[kingofmeatballs]

Bruh with them mf walten files i feel like i'm in my middle school fnaf phase again...

I literally don't have a mental capacity to deal with this rn

[myclownjunction]

Thick thighs save lives- Karl Heisenberg x Reader request

There will be SMUT or NSFW under the cut, so if you're under 18+ cut it out! Kids are not allowed here!! YOU HEAR ME, KIDS!!!! *O)-(O*

*You had thick thighs and it was hard to find clothes especially jeans, they were always RIPped, and damn that highly irritated you but not a certain metal man that was enjoying your thunder tights.

*But your thick tights made the said so powerful metal man aka Karl Heisenberg fall for you, the first time when you met him you caught him between your thighs during a fight and he surrendered, he for real tried to pry off your tighs to no avail making you smirk at him.

* "What is it my man, you have a tight time there!?" that made him smile and laugh he loved puns, and that made you laugh as well releasing him from your death grip, he'll call you my sweet little Phyton after this, believe me, he will!

*Karl always liked being there between your thighs, he loved the danger they possessed but also how sensitive they were whoo boy and they were hypersensitive. He wanted more as he tried to always slide in between your tights earning giggles from you as his beard tickled you, oh you were in for a long tease session right there!

*Karl, on the other hand, loves your dem thighs, his huge, rough hands rubbing them making you moan as he smirks with a cigar between his teeth, he enjoys the noises you make for him, as he feels your muscles twitch between his hands.

*SOCKS TIIIIIME! Long, short, middle, crop anything, but OH.MY.GAWD if you put on leather stripes and belts you'll give the hard on to the man INSTANTLY, he'll consider to stripe you while in the bedroom;)))

*Skirts, yes Sir, tight jeans bring them on, our man want to see your curves and thickness and there's no excuse, for you o hide them from him, you'll have hickeys and bites on them 24/7.

*Karl loves his morning coffee but more of this morning routine he loves you on his lap and to nuzzle at your neck while reading some of his project blueprints or just resting his hands and massaging your tighs.

*Heisenberg once brought you leather socks made from leather and belts, you have no idea where did he get them but you love them, and you put them more often to tease him.

Smutty ahead take a sip ;)

*Heisenberg FRIKIN LOVES to rub himself from behind you, oh yeah, even dry humping you as you try to concentrate on some task and ignore it, you can't ignore how good does it feel, so occasional moans and helps follow as this smug bastard enjoys teasing you.

*Karl loves to give you massages because it leads to something that makes him smirk smugly and rub harder, making you arch and moan into his touch, he knows he got you.

*Heisenberg loves to nuzzle and lick your thighs, hardness.exe has started, let him just smooch your thighs he's like a leech that loves to bite in and stuck in there, he loves when you try to squeeze your thighs but don't try it for too long it might end with a punishment.

*He loves to scratch your thighs, bites, licks, sucks, damn when you ride him, he's moaning and snarling, hissing, purring mess under you, you're one strong female and that makes him go but if you add a snarky sexy comment boooi "What is it Karl, is it the moment where I tame this wild steed for once?!" he'll growl at you playfully.

*Karl loves to massage your thighs and giving you oral, but you wait, this man will drive you nuts because...orgasm denial, otherwise, he's very strong don't fool yourself that you're the one in charge, but that doesn't stop him knockin' you out after multiple orgasms and get going on for hours, this man has the stamina to go for ages, just you wait, you little tease!

*When you pushed the Tease button is the hell that broke the heck lose, does this metal man has NO stop button because once he got you you're gone, he has you everywhere on the table, the wall, the bookshelf, heck even the workbench, the bed-mangled, broken, sheets wet with body fluids from both of you.

*Heisenberg is thick and huge as a damn steed's cock taking him is a challenge but you love it, as both of you are challenging to bring each other over the edge, which happens so fast darn it, 13 orgasms later you still keep it going on and on.

*If your poor soul hasn't passed out he will definitely strap your thighs and he will have his way with you, denying your orgasm, overstimulate you while praising with a dirty talk "That's it baby girl, so good for me, looks like I tamed my wild mare, hmm?!" he will absolutely love to spank you like prepare your poor body for it!

*Heisenberg is the man that loves to give and receive oral, but what he loves the most, squeeze your thighs together and let him thighfuck you, ad damn this makes him lose his mind and yours too ;)

*If you're naughty he'll punish you, and hell hold you hind because this man sure has strong and rough hands, he loves to see your skin red and angry with his handprint in there, after he'll give you aftercare and kiss it sweetly praising you "You did so good for me baby, such a lovely doe you are, all for me!"

*Karl also loves you to rub and come on his thighs, damn you seen his thighs, just ride them like a fun damn ride, he loves you to soak his thigh while he whispers dirty notings in your ear pushing you to the edge bit by bit.

*If you wear knee-high socks when having sex bonus points to you, leather ones holy hell you got him, stripes or leather belts, welp you won't be able to walk for weeks I give you my word!\

*Cowboy riding, groping, slamming, spanking, rubbing, massaging all-inclusive when with he'll be ready they would never let you go even if you wanted to now you got yourself a Metal Daddy!

Hehehe I burn in hell, hello, come and burn with me!

[ilovebeing-weird]

Fluffy Saturday 4

How to take care of your sick wife

Not a Saturday, but fuck it. Timari fluff while I internally die and feel single! :D

Cold. That was Marinette's first thought as she woke up. She was cold and her blanket was cold and why was her room feeling like Antarctica? She turned the air conditioner off as fast as she could. Which wasn't really fast because she was exhausted even though she just woke up.

Why was her legs hurting so much? And she couldn't breathe. Who wasn't letting her breathe? That was rude, she liked breathing. She wanted something hot. Something warm. She quickly cuddled to her husband whose very bare chest provided a lot of warmth. It wasn't enough though. She flung herself on top of him and cuddled in his blanket as well as her blanket.

That was much better.

~~~~~~~~~~

Tim was really hot. Was he in a desert? Why did he feel like he was in one. Why was the air con off? And what was that burning thing on top of him? Was he sitting on a stove getting ready to be cooked?

Tim opened one eye and then second one only to be met with his wife's flushed face and open mouth for breathing. He touched her forehead and yep, she was sick. That must be the effect of exhaustion plus rain that fell on them yesterday during patrol. That was never a good mixture.

Tim allowed her wife to stay cuddled with him even though it was really hot. He can handle that, he's been through worse. He was just about to fall asleep again when he peeked at the time.

8:00 a.m.

That was too early to wake up. He closed his eyes intent on getting some few more hours of sleep. He'll cancel work today. Bruce can manage on his own, his Bean needed him more.

When Tim woke up again it was 9:00 a.m. Marinette wasn't lying on him this time but had stolen his blanket and was bundled between his and hers. She was still shivering though. Tim swiftly got up and covered her with two more layers, and after a moment of hesitation with another one.

He also kept three blankets at her side just in case. They owned a lot of blankets. Well, Marinette got cold easily. He also called Alfred to ask him how to cook some soup and how to take care of a sick person.

Tim followed Alfred's recipe and cooked pretty good, in his opinion, soup. He softly woke up Marinette and planted a kiss on her forehead. It was burning.

Marinette whined and dug under her blankets.

"Mari, Bean, you need to wake up. You have to take your meds and eat something." Tim said, sitting next to her on the bed. Marinette just whined again in response.

"Tiiiiim." Mari whined, her voice sounding too weak and raspy. "Let me sleep."

"Babe, you really need to wake up. You can go to sleep after that." Tim said, now softly ran his hands through her hair. Mari just hummed, putting his head into his lap.

"5 minutes more." She mumbled into his leg. Tim just sighed and kept running his hands through her hair. She needed her sleep after all. (In reality, he was whipped. He couldn't deny her anything.)

Ten minutes later, Marinette finally woke up. She woke up but didn't even have the energy to sit. She leaned his head onto Tim's chest but there wasn't the warmth he was radiating in the morning. Marinette leaned away, (well at least she tried to, she couldn't much because she didn't have the energy to), and glared at him. He was wearing a sweatshirt and an apron.

"Remove them." Marinette said, still glaring at him.

"Remove what exactly?" Tim was confused now.

"Your shirt and the apron obviously! It's not as warm as you are." Tim looked at her for a while before sighing and getting up and removing them. (Don't blame him! His wife is adorable!) After they finally settled down and Mari leaned against his chest soaking all the warmth she could get. Tim slowly brought the reheated soup to her lips.

She wasn't really hungry, but Tim said that she needs to eat, so she will. He knew what was better for her more than her (honestly, she wasn't able to deny him things)

After she had eaten and taken her medicines (Tim had to struggle…a lot. Medicines were gross) She was ready to go to sleep again. Apparently when you're sick you should get as much sleep as you should to heal well. Which didn't make any sense, but okay. There was only one problem though, she couldn't sleep.

"Tiiiiiiim." Tim, who was lying below her because she didn't let him leave because he is warm, looked at her.

"What happened Bean?" Tim's hand, which was running through her hair, stopped and he tried to get up. Key word: tried. Marinette had trapped him.

"I can't sleep. Will you read something for me?" Marinette looked at him with puppy eyes and Tim just chuckled and fondly shook his head.

"Of course." Marinette muttered a small, but excited, yay. Tim placed his glasses and was about to take out a Sherlock Holmes book but decided against it. She needed something that won't require much brain energy. Uh, he could read her, her favorite book as a child. She still kept it with her.

He searched in the shelf and finally found it Le petit Prince. It was an old copy which was surprisingly well kept.

Tim climed back in bed and Marinette laid with her head on his lap. Tim absentmindedly started running his hands through her hair again. Somewhere in between the book Marinette fell asleep. And she looked really adorable. Tim felt like the luckiest man alive. He couldn't believe that she married him. A dumbass who didn't even know how he would have survived if she wasn't there. God, he loved her so much. Marrying her was one of the few good choices he made.

Tim kissed her forehead again and slowly got up. He kept the book at its place and got his camera. He knew that he shouldn't take her picture without her permission, especially when she was so vulnerable, but she looked so damn adorable.

(It's not like he doesn't have a lot of her pics taken without her knowledge. He was making a scrapbook out of them and was going to give her that on their first anniversary.)

After taking the pics, Tim got back in the bed and situated Marinette on him again. Tim took a last glance before holding her as close to him as possible.

Listening to her breathing Tim slowly fell asleep too. He didn't care if he fell sick, it would be worth it.

[emerald-amidst-gold]

8, 31 (SHOW ME), 34!!!! <3

I SEE what you did choosing that last question! OHHH, tricky, tricky, but YESSS! >:3

Thank you for the ask, my dear friend and i will indeed SHOW YOU! <3

8. What gif describes their life?

Fane, staring down at the masses:

31. What is your OC’s go to dance move?

OH GOD. Okay, well, for some reason, I have one thing in mind and it's THIS:

This is what happens when Bull and Varric manage to get Fane wasted. Completely clothed, of course! But, I just see this so clearly in my head! XD

34. What would your OC’s reaction be if there was a giant dog that came to them with a huge bone as the dog wags their tail in excitement?

*turns head to stare at the audience with a blank stare* Guess what time it is? That's right...DRABBLE TIIIIIME!

When Fane stepped through the eluvian, he was not expecting...well, what he was currently looking at, and that was a DOG, but a very large, very exuberant, and with a bone in its mouth DOG. It was staring down at him, gigantic bone in its mouth, almost as large as it was, and tail thumping against the already precarious floor that was the norm in the Crossroads.

Fane blinked, slowly crossing his arms as he just...stared. This was...strange, but somewhat nostalgic. Where was Solas when you needed to make a joke? He needed to make a joke right now.

"Well, aren't you a big dog?", he said, the massive dog's tail picking up speed to where Fane actually staggered a bit, holding his hands out to steady himself. "And a strong one, too."

The dog gave him a muffled 'woof', careful not to drop its bone before leaning down to huff and sniff at his form. Fane went tense, gripping the plating of his armor and ears twitching at the resounding screech it let out. Two big brown eyes stared at him with interest and excitement, silently asking him for something. Was this how it was when he would peer down at people as a dragon? It wasn't unnerving, but...very invasive. But he could tell, within chocolate brown, what this fascinating creature wanted.

"You want me to pet you?", Fane asked, sighing a bit as another 'borf' came from canine lips. He smiled a bit as he unwound one of his arms from his chest to rest a hand against a large snout, the fur surprisingly soft. "You know, I'm usually the one looking down at people. It's kind of refreshing being the...look down-ee in this case."

The dog let out a happy whimper, tail slowing in its thumps to flutter, like a rattlesnake's rattle. Fane chuckled at that as he continued slowly stroke the giant beast, but went slightly still when he heard the warbling of the eluvian behind him. Soon though, a wide smirk spread across his features as he heard familiar footsteps phase through the wobble of magic.

Ah, just in time.

"Ah, here you are, ma'isenatha. What are you--?", Solas' voice came in its usual measured, calm way before it died, footsteps skidding to a halt as surely as they had sounded.

Fane smirked more at that as he continued to pet the dog, its eyes shut and was now curled up on the ground, bone still dutifully in its mouth. Who would have thought a dog would enjoy his presence? Then again, he had a thing for canines, didn't he?

"I found one of your relatives, my sky.", Fane said, glancing over to see Solas staring at the dog with wide eyes, but they immediately leveled him with a 'Really?' type of glare, but its barely sent a shiver down his spine. "I think he brought you something to eat."

Solas's expression only became more exasperated with his sarcasm, but a tiny smile was threatening to break through before the mage turned on his heel.

"You're getting better with humor, I see.", Solas quipped, shaking his head with a chuckle before he glanced over his shoulder, smile in full swing now. "I assume you will be staying for a while yet?"

Fane chuckled, giving the dog, who was now fast asleep, a few gentle pats. Was his sky suddenly...jealous? Oh, he would milk this. He was feeling spunky for some reason. Maybe the dog? Maybe the ridiculousness of it? Maybe.

"Are you jealous?", Fane asked, quietly turning away from the hound as he made his way over to his sky, the mage's back still turned, but blue-grey eyes fixed on him. "Don't worry. I only need one dog that pisses on the carpet."

Solas's eyes went wide before a hand came up the pinch the bridge of his nose, but not deigning to fuel the flames. The sight was exactly what Fane had been hoping for, his smirk now plastered onto his face.

"I could get you bone if you really want. Some pets?", Fane offered, pushing as the sky always pushed him until he was practically up against his back, leaning down to whisper into a pointed ear, noticing how a singular eyebrow was twitching. "After all, I know just where you liked to be stroked.", the statement a growl, a deep purr.

Solas let out a small growl of his before turning around to grip Fane's jaw with a hand, eyes flashing with deep indigo, but the heat of lavender was fighting with it.

"You're getting better with seduction as well, it would appear.", Solas said flatly, hand upon his face tightening slightly before it caught itself, easing up but not disappearing. "But, you know as well as I, that I am no dog, vhenan."

Fane smirked more. "Oh? Is that right?", he asked teasingly, clearing his throat a bit before continuing. "Hey, pup!", he called out to the dog, an immediate 'boof?' coming from behind, his booming voice waking it. "Do you think this man here is dog material?" Another, happier 'arf!' came as agreement. "That's that what I thought. You're outnumbered, my dear Dread Dog."

Solas' eyes just stared into him before a quiet snort came through, the mask cracking as it always did the longer and longer they disconnected from what once held the plaster in place.

"You are ridiculous.", Solas told him, shaking his head and smiling softly. "Are you finished? All out of your system?" The hand upon his jaw released, but not before giving it a soft stroke. Fane shivered from the touch, but nodded with a small smile of his own.

"For now.", he said, laying a soft kiss to the mage's palm before throwing his gaze back to the giant dog watching them with sparking brown eyes, bone still dutifully attached to its mouth. "He really likes bones, huh?"

"He is not the only one, ma'isenatha. You do as well. One in particular, to be precise.", Solas said evenly, his body turning away once more and heading towards the eluvian without another word.

Fane blinked. "I like...bones? What does that--?", he started to question but let out a growling groan when it sank in. "Oh, for fuck's sake! Really?!"

The sound of a laugh, combined with the warble of magic and the ringing howl of the dog behind him was the only answer Fane received. He should have known better than to mistake a wolf for a mere dog.

(Idiots being idiots? Awww, yeeeeahhhh! Hope you like it~! Thank you for the ask! <3)