#im gonna go meet extended family

[spoopdeedoop]

based on a real thing that happened after we picked up our then newborn little sister from the hospital and on the ride back she was asleep and her hands did this and me and my brother gasped like she’d just killed someone

lazy bonus

[whatsnewalycat]

Once in a Blue Moon

One Shot // Dieter Bravo x HotelStaff!F!Reader

Description: You're the only person working when a Christmas blizzard rolls into town and snows you in with a notoriously difficult guest, Dieter Bravo.

Rating: E (Explicit 18+ Only)

Word Count: 12.9k+

Tags/Warnings: one shot, slight dub con elements (power imbalance, isolation, alcohol) although both parties are enthusiastically consenting, hotel guest x hotel staff, blizzard, Minnesota because that’s my best friend, dieter generally being an ‘if you give a mouse a cookie’ ass bitch, kinda enemies to lovers???, Christmas, loneliness, palm reading, food and eating, cannabis, conspiracy theory mention, fluuuuuufffff, smut, dirty talk, a dash of conflict, painting stuff, power outage, poverty mention

Note: Merry Crisis! This is part of a secret Santa gift exchange and a present for my dearest Syl (@all-the-way-down-here @im-sylien). I hope you enjoy!! Have an excellent holiday, friend ❤️🎄

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 23RD, 2:00 PM

“We are right in the bullseye for what people are already calling The Great Christmas Storm. Blizzard Warnings remain in effect throughout most of Minnesota until Tuesday morning. Forty to fifty mile-an-hour winds, combined with an anticipated twelve to twenty-four inches of heavy snowfall, are expected to create whiteout conditions, making travel dangerous or impossible in the Blizzard Warning areas. If you must travel—”

You kill the engine and look up through the windshield at Blue Moon Manor. The white exterior of the three-story Tudor Revival mansion seems to glow in contrast to the dark clouds hanging overhead. Some rich guy built it as a family home in 1905. It stayed in the family for over a century before a property management company scooped it up. Now the ornate family heirloom is a boutique hotel. Go figure. 

You open your car door and grab your backpack from the backseat, swinging it over your shoulder as you step out of the vehicle. As you walk up the path to the staff entrance, snowflakes start floating down from the gray, low-hanging clouds like teeny-tiny feathers, landing on your cheeks and nose, melting on impact. 

So it begins. 

You press your security code into the door lock, waiting for the quiet beep-beep-beep of approval before shoving the door open to the back office. 

Your coworker Jenna looks up at you when you enter giving you a nod of greeting as she zips up her jacket, “How is it out there?”

“Just starting,” you drop your backpack on the built-in bench and take off your stocking cap, shaking out your hair as you ask, “How’s it been here?” 

“Let’s just say I’m ready to go home and drink some wine,” she snorts, “Should be a piece of cake for you, though. 202, 203, and 101 checked out early because of the storm, and the check-in today cancelled.” 

“Storm of the century,” you mutter, “Merry fucking Christmas.”

“I hear it’s gonna get nasty. Do you really have to stay the whole time?” 

You wave her off as you peel off your jacket, “It’s fine.”

“I’m sorry I can’t cover some of the shifts.”

“Really, it‘s fine,” you insist while hanging up your coat, “Bossman said he’d pay me double time to stay ‘til he gets back to town.” 

“You’re goddamn right he’s gonna pay you double time.” 

Trying to change the subject, you go over to the daily checklist, “Ok, 202, 203, and 101 are gone,” you frown, running over your mental tally of guests, “So, what? Just 302?”

“Just 302. Lucky you.” 

“Yeah, lucky me,” you roll your eyes, then look out the window at the snowfall, heavier now, “You better head out before you get stuck here with me and Mr. Fluoride Mind Control.” 

“I suppose,” she sighs, grabbing her purse, “Well, have a Merry Christmas?”

“You too,” you smile and meet her eyes as she extends her arms and beckons you closer. You groan, but accept the hug, face pressing against her puffy winter coat. 

When she steps back and starts towards the door, she tells you, “Don’t have too much fun now.” 

“I’ll try not to,” you snort, “Merry Christmas.” 

“Merry Christmas,” she calls behind her as she opens the door, letting in an icy-cold draft of snowflakes before closing it behind her. 

You sigh and wiggle the mouse on the computer. The second you do, the service bell dings. 

“Fucking already?” you mutter to yourself as you follow the floorplan through the kitchen, into the formal dining room, then finally arrive at the archway to the parlor. 

You find the man staying in Suite 302 leaning against the grand piano, thrumming his fingers on the shiny surface. 

Wearing pajama pants and a grubby t-shirt, chestnut curls shooting up every which way, he sighs and taps the call bell again. The shrill ding makes your eye twitch a little, but you paste on an amenable smile, “Mr. Bravo, how can I help you?” 

He spins towards you and looks at you over his sunglasses, dark eyes flicking up and down your body before settling on your face, “Can I get some towels?”

“Of cour—”

“And can you do that thing where you fold them into animals?” 

You furrow your brow and tilt your head at him, lips parting to ask what he means, but he preemptively answers. 

“Some hotels fold them into swans or elephants or whatever. You know what I mean? Towel animals.” 

There’s no way he’s not fucking with you. 

“I, uhh…”

He raps a knuckle on the piano, then saunters off, calling back, “Thanks, you’re the best!”

You stand there for a moment, mouth agape as you watch him disappear up the stairs, thinking: No fucking way I’m doing that. 

And yet, half an hour later, you’re sitting in the back office watching a YouTube video on how to fold two towels into an elephant. 

Following along with the step-by-step, you make the legs. Easy enough. The head ends up looking like an uncircumcised cock with wings, though. You set it on top of the legs and take a step back, glancing between your creation and the video’s example. As a final touch, you stick a couple googly-eye stickers on it. 

“Good enough,” you sigh and tuck the microfiber monstrosity under your arm. 

When you arrive at Suite 302, you pause for a moment, turning your ear towards the door. You hear the old wooden floor creaking as he walks around humming to himself. It smells like paint and skunk spray. 

You swallow your buzzing nerves and knock on the door, fidgeting a little as you wait. 

Inside, a fit of coughing erupts, and he chokes out, “Hang—on—”

His footsteps squeak across the floor to the kitchen. Clink of glass. Water faucet. The coughing stops for a few silent seconds, then he groans and the footstep squeaks grow closer. 

A cloud of weed smoke bitch slaps you when the door to Suite 302 swings open. 

He frowns at you, crossing his arms in front of his broad chest as he leans against the doorframe, “Hey, uhhh…”

“I got your towels,” you smile, presenting the towel elephant to him. 

His eyes drop to the elephant, then he raises his eyebrows, “What is this?” 

“An elephant?”

He glances between you and the elephant, flattening his mouth into a line before telling you, “Looks like a dick and balls with googly-eyes.”

The force you use to hold down your laughter makes you snort. 

So fucking professional. 

Your eyes meet his. An amused smile graces his lips as he takes the elephant. 

“Anything else I can get for you?” 

“Yeah, can I, uhhh… can I get some snacks? Something sweet, something savory.”

“I’ll see what I can find,” you nod, peering over his shoulder into the hazy room, “Just a reminder, we don’t allow smoking.” 

“Oh, it’s not cigarette smoke.” 

“I can smell.” 

It goes straight from your brain out your mouth, drenched in sarcasm. So fucking professional. 

His eyebrows shoot up in a surprised expression. 

“I apologize, Mr. Bravo—”

“Oh, fuck that. Don’t,” he chuckles, waving off your stammering, “Call me Dieter, by the way. Mr. Bravo makes me sound like a fucking… karaoke machine.” 

“Ok,” you chuckle, then put your customer-facing demeanor back on and tell him, “I’ll go see what we have for snacks. Let me know if you need anything in the meantime.” 

He pushes off the doorframe, giving you a nod of acknowledgment as he steps back into Suite 302 and closes the door. 

You return sometime later with a silver serving tray hosting a variety of cheeses, dried fruit, olives, spreads, and crackers. When you knock, he hollers to leave it outside the door, so you do. 

The remaining daylight you spend cleaning. 

Blue Moon Manor has eight suites: one on the first floor, four on the second, and two on the third. Working from the bottom up, you rid the recently vacated units of dirty dishes and trash, then collect the linens and haul them up to the laundry room on the third floor. 

By this time, the serving tray you left outside Suite 302 has disappeared. The pot smoke, however, dissipated throughout the entire level. It seems even stronger than the last time you were up here. Almost like he completely disregarded your polite reminder of the no smoking policy. 

You decide to table the issue temporarily. If he was still smoking by the time you returned to take his dinner order, you’d remind him again. 

The prospect of confronting what your boss referred to as “a very important client” intimidates you, though, if you’re being honest. 

Not that you’re particularly intimidated by him as a person or anything. 

Sure, he has an IMDb page and some awards, but beyond that, he’s just another entitled guy. 

It’s more so the influence he has on your employment that intimidates you. Sometimes your feral mouth speaks before your poorly-domesticated brain can articulate a proper response. If you were to say something combative, and this guy complained to your boss, you’d probably lose your job—a loss you cannot afford. 

When it’s time to take his dinner order, you gather yourself before knocking on his door, repeating your script in your head as you wait. Then the door swings open and you’re absolutely blindsided. 

He answers while wringing his hair out with a towel. It’s one of the two you brought him earlier. You can tell because there’s still a googly-eye stuck to it, pupil shaking around inside its little plastic dome. The other towel clings to life around his waist, parting to show off a slice of his tan thigh. 

Regrettably, you follow your knee-jerk reaction to ogle him, looking him up and down before returning to his expectant eyes. 

This results in an uncomfortable staring contest, where you’re trying to make your mouth work and he’s trying to figure out what the fuck you want, as made evident when he asks, “Do you need something?” 

“Dinner,” you blurt out, then shake your head, “Sorry, I mean—What’ll you be having for dinner, Mr. Bravo?” 

“What’re the options?” 

“Chicken roulade or salmon.” 

He groans, throwing his hair-drying towel over his shoulder. 

“Do you guys have any normal food, or does it have to be upscale bullshit?” 

You pause to once again gather yourself, and in that two-second silence he decides, “I’ll take the chicken roulade.” 

“Dining room or room service?” 

He shrugs, looking over his shoulder into the suite, then back at you, “Dining room.” 

“Fabulous. While I’m here, can I take your tray from earlier?” 

“Let me get it,” he mumbles, closing the door. While he’s gone, you go over the lines you rehearsed, and when he opens the door to hand you the tray, you tell him, “Just as a reminder, we don’t allow indoor smoking—” 

“Look, usually I open the window and use a doob-tube, but, uhhh… the weather outside won’t allow it. I don’t want the wind to fuck up the crank windows.” 

“But still—” 

“And not that it’s any of your business, but I have a medical condition that I treat with cannabis. This is prescribed to me—”

“What? I’m not—”

“Besides, it should be legal—”

“Ok, you know what? Fine! Smoke away, but don’t be surprised when the manager fines you for it, plus the cost of extra cleaning charges.” 

He crosses his arms and straightens his spine, “I can live with that.” 

“Great,” you snip, taking a big step back, “Dinner will be ready at six.” 

He closes the door a little harder than necessary and you stomp down to the kitchen, fuming the whole way. 

Lucky for you, dinner prep involves flattening chicken breasts with a meat tenderizer, which helps tame your frustration. As you follow the recipe, sprinkling seasonings and feta cheese onto the breasts and rolling them up like neat little sleeping bags, potential consequences for your outburst run through your mind. Bad review, getting canned, all that. 

Maybe if you hadn’t been dealing with this guy’s shit for the past two weeks, you would’ve been able to handle the situation with a level head. But his haughtiness is fucking grating. He can’t just answer a question or make a simple request. It has to be a whole production that makes it clear: he thinks he’s better than you. 

By the time you finish cooking, though, you come to peace with the fact that you’ll probably have to kiss his ass to rectify the situation. 

When the grandfather clock in the parlor chimes six times, you plate the chicken roulade and bring it to the dining room, slightly surprised to see him already seated at the table. 

“Mr. Bravo,” you smile in greeting. 

“Dieter.” 

“Dieter,” you repeat as you set the plate down on his place setting, “Can I get you anything to drink? We have a Sauvignon Blanc that would pair well with the chicken—”

“I’ll take it.”

You go to the sideboard and find a bottle of wine. As you pour him a glass, he wrings his hands together and glances around, “Anyone else coming down?” 

“Just you.”

“What about you, where do you eat?” 

You shrug, setting the bottle down beside his glass, “In the kitchen.” 

“You could eat out here.” 

“Oh. It’s fine, sir. Really, I don’t mind.” 

His nose wrinkles up under his sunglasses and he shifts in seat. You study him for a moment, sensing an air of loneliness about him. 

“Unless you want me to join you.”

He shrugs, “Seems silly for both of us to eat alone.” 

“So true,” you nod, clasping your hands together, “I’ll uhhh… I’ll be right back.” 

When you return with your plate, you sit across the table from him. An uncomfortable silence settles in the room. The kind that makes your skin feel too tight and amplifies every little noise. The chewing, the utensils clinking, the wet swallows, everything seems ten times louder than reality. 

Clearly, it’s not just the two of you in this dining room. There’s a third guest, the giant invisible elephant wedged between you. 

He finishes his glass of wine and pours another, asking, “Do you want some?” 

“I… shouldn’t.” 

“Uh-huh,” he raises his eyebrows, looking at you over his sunglasses, “Do you want some anyway?”

You consider it, squishing your face to one side with indecision. 

“I won’t tell on you, sweetheart, I promise.” 

Your eyes flick to his, finding a sort of amused playfulness there. 

“Fine,” you smirk and push back your chair, going over to the wine cabinet to grab a glass, “Just one.” 

“No one’s twisting your arm about it.”

You return to your seat and reach across the table to grab the bottle, pouring only a small helping. 

“Cheers,” he holds up his glass. 

You mimic the sentiment and take a big sip, then tell him, “Mr. Bravo—”

“Dieter.”

“Dieter,” you nod, glancing at your wine glass, “I, umm… I apologize if I was rude earlier.” You meet his eyes and shrug, “If I’m being completely transparent, my boss will have my ass if the whole third floor smells like weed when he comes in next week.”

He watches you as he absorbs this, face inscrutable. 

“But if you want, I can show you the back patio. You can smoke out there all you want, I really don’t care about that part.” 

Leaning back in his seat, he takes a swig of wine, then says, “Fine.” 

“Thank you, I appreciate it,” you smile. 

“Uh-huh,” he sets down his glass, wiggling around a little as he tells you, “For the record, you weren’t being that rude. Well, maybe a little, but… I don’t mind. Suits you better than the bullshit customer service thing you do.” 

You blink at him, biting your tongue, then return to cutting your food and making small talk, “Well, I hope you didn’t have any big plans for the holidays. Traveling might be tough the next couple days.” 

He shakes his head, “Not doing it this year.”

“Not doing Christmas?”

“Nope. What about you? Do you celebrate Christmas? Any plans?” 

“You’re looking at ‘em,” you gesture around the room with your wine glass and take a sip.

“No shit, you have to work?” 

“I’ll be working until the storm passes. Tuesday at the earliest, by the sounds of it.” 

“Yuck. You guys have a staff bedroom, or do you get to stay in a suite?”

“I have my pick of the empty suites.”

He pokes the food on his plate with his fork, “Which one are you picking?”

You chuckle a little before answering. Maybe it’s your imagination, but you detect a certain vibe coming from him. Not only that, but he’s attractive in a way you’re not entirely immune to. 

“I think I’m gonna try a new one each night,” you tell him, “101 for sure, maybe 301 and 203. Not 201–“

“Oh well obviously, fuck 201.” 

“Obviously,” you laugh, shaking your head. 

He smiles at you, sparking heat at your center, then both return your attention to your food. The rest of the meal passes in a much more comfortable silence. Not wanting to overstay your welcome around a guest or veer further into unprofessionalism, you rise as soon as you finish. 

“I’ll get out of your hair, but if you need anything, ring the bell. I’ll be around.” 

“Sure,” he studies you over his sunglasses as you gather your dirty dishes, his jaw ticking back and forth, then he says, “Hey, thanks for keeping me company. It was nice.” 

You want to tell him you thought it was nice, too. Or maybe say something about how it felt like a mildly off-putting but not entirely unsuccessful first date. Not at all what you assumed it would be like. 

Instead, you give him a polite smile and nod, “Of course.” 

— 

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 23RD, 8:00 PM

DING 

You look up from the cribbage game on your phone at him, just a few strides away but apparently oblivious to your presence. He fidgets with the sleeve of his high-drama fuzzy jacket, shifting his weight from side-to-side. Waiting. 

“Hi—”

“Holy shit!” He startles, gripping his chest, “Where the fuck did you come from?”

Before you can stop it, you snort out a laugh, then cover your face reflexively, “I’m so sorry Mr.—”

“Dieter.”

“Dieter,” you nod as you rise to your feet, stuffing your wide grin into a neat smile, “How can I help you, sir?”

“Call me a fucking ambulance for the heart attack you just gave me,” he jokes, shaking his head, then takes a step towards you, “No, uhh… I was gonna step out to smoke, do you wanna join me?” 

“Oh—umm,” you chuckle a little, briefly considering the offer before politely telling him, “No, thank you.”

“You sure?” 

“I’m sure,” you glance down at his feet, clad in mismatched socks and crocs, “But here, let me clear off the back patio so you don’t have to stand in the snow.” 

He shrugs and follows you through the parlor into the dining room, where you tell him, “Just give me a minute, I’ll put my stuff on.”

“Take your time,” he murmurs, going over to the sideboard, “Is this fair game?” 

“Help yourself.” 

“Do you want one?” 

He flips over a lowball glass on display and sifts through the decanters of liquor, plucking out a bottle of finely aged whiskey. A drink sounds good. But the prospect of this virtual stranger fixing you a drink makes you uneasy. 

Does he know that it’s just you and him under this roof for probably the next few days? Between the offer to smoke you up and pour you a drink, is he intentionally trying to intoxicate you? Or is he just being cordial? 

You realize he’s staring at you, waiting for a response. Heat rises to your face. Shaking your head, you tell him, “I’m fine, thanks.” 

He uncorks the decanter and turns to pour whiskey into his glass, so you dismiss yourself to the back office. 

After bundling up in winter gear, you grab a shovel, then start towards the dining room. You stop short in the kitchen. The motherfucker walked right past the STAFF ONLY sign and started rummaging through the fridge. 

“You’re not supposed to be back here.” 

He glances back over his shoulder at you, “Why not?”

“Because—well, because—”

“Can you make me grilled cheese?” 

He straightens and closes the fridge door, turning to face you. You, clad in your coat and boots and hat and all that shit, holding a shovel, just blinking at him, mouth agape. 

“Right now?” 

His jaw shifts to one side as he genuinely considers the question. 

“Can I shovel first?” 

“Sure,” he shrugs. 

“Thanks,” you mutter, then trudge past him into the dining room. 

He follows along behind you, through the hall to the back door, asking, “Do you have tomato soup?” 

“Probably. Want some with your grilled cheese?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I’ll see what I can do.” 

When you twist the door handle and yank it open, a knee-high snow drift topples over at your feet. 

“Jesus Christ,” you hiss and flip on the outdoor light switch to peek outside. A strong gust of wind knocks you back a step, carrying a flurry of shimmering, swirling snowflakes. Your cheeks sting at the icy cold sharpness of it, eyes watering in protest. 

What a fucking nightmare. 

“Forget it,” you huff, slamming the door closed. You prop the shovel against it and turn to Dieter, pulling your gloves off, “I don’t care, can you just use the doob-tube and turn on the fan in the bathroom?” 

“The fan doesn’t work.” 

You release a big sigh, tugging off your hat as you lean on the wall and kick off your boots, “Of course it doesn’t. Alright, plan C.” 

—

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 23RD, 8:45 PM

The range hood’s fan roars to life. 

“Have at it,” you tell him as you walk over to the sink and unlock the window, pulling it up a few inches. 

Dieter pulls a palm-sized wooden container from his coat pocket and leans back against the stove, twisting the top open. A one-hitter pops up from one of the two barrels of the container. He takes it and stuffs it into the dugout, “So, what, we’re all trapped here until the storm passes?” 

You cross your arms in front of your chest and shrug, “Theoretically.” 

“Figures,” he mutters, then pinches the pipe between his lips. He pulls a pink lighter from the pocket of his fuzzy coat and brings the flame to the other end. The tip brightens to a glowing ember as he inhales. 

“I thought you didn’t have any plans.” 

He holds the smoke in his lungs and croaks out, “I don’t,” before turning to blow the smoke into the fan intake. 

“Are you upset that you’re snowed in with me?” 

“It has nothing to do with you, sweetheart” he glances at you, then takes another hit. 

“Ok, let me rephrase,” you shift, casting your gaze to the floor, trying to conceal the warmth blooming beneath your skin, “Are you upset that you’re snowed in?” 

He shrugs, “I don’t like being stuck places. Especially another fucking hotel.” 

“Whadda you mean?” you frown. 

Your question hangs in the air while he takes another hit. He grimaces and steps over to the sink beside you, tapping ash from the little metal pipe with his lighter, then returns to his place at the stove and packs another onie. 

“Did you ever watch the documentary Beasts of the Bubble?” 

You shake your head. 

“Don’t, it’s dogshit,” he snorts and takes another hit. On the exhale, he asks, “You know that I’m an actor, though, right?” 

You nod. 

“Right, well, long story short… Early COVID days, I was out in England shooting a movie and they wouldn’t let us leave the hotel.” 

You have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes, sensing heavy dramatics on the horizon. 

“They wouldn’t let you leave the hotel?”

“My friend—well,” he wrinkles his nose, “Yeah, my friend. She tried to escape, got her fuckin’ hand shot off.” 

“Holy shit, seriously?!”

“Yeah, Lauren Van Chance. Pow! Shot right off. Fucking brutal,” he shakes his head and takes another hit. As he blows the smoke into the fan, he coughs a little, then shakes his head, “Anyway—wait, why am I talking about this?” 

“Because we’re snowed in.” 

“Oh—yeah. I dunno, feeling like I can’t leave… my therapist said it’s a trigger, I guess.” 

“I get that,” you search his face, watching him frown at the one-hitter. Apparently satisfied with how stoned he is, Dieter releases a relaxed sigh and sets the onie down on the counter. 

“If it’s any consolation, I promise I won’t shoot you if you try to leave. Like… I don’t know, you might need some snow shoes or whatever, but you could—” 

He waves you off, “Eh, it’s fine. It’s just a thing, you know? Makes me feel all fuckin’ cagey and on-edge. Restless.” 

You lick your lips and nod, glancing at the floor before you look at him, “Anything I can do to help?” 

“Bud helps,” he shrugs, “Talking helps.”

“Does grilled cheese help?” 

It takes him a moment to understand what you’re asking, but when he does, he chuckles, “Grilled cheese is basically a fucking Xanax.” 

“Is that a good thing?” 

“Absolutely.” 

“Then let’s get you a grilled cheese.” 

—

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 24TH, 10:00 AM

“The Department of Transportation has declared a state of emergency, and urges people to shelter in place as snow will continue to fall in the Twin Cities and across most of central and southern Minnesota through tomorrow. Overnight, some places received as much as 10 inches, with 40 mile-an-hour winds creating drifts—”

DING

Regrettably, your heart skips a beat. 

You tuck your phone into the back pocket of your slacks and cross the kitchen, pushing through the swinging door into the dining room. When you get to the parlor, you find Dieter fiddling around with priceless antiques displayed on the shelves of an ornate built-in bookshelf. He glances over at you, “Hey.” 

“Good morning, did you sleep ok?” 

Nodding, he pulls his attention away from the bookshelf and takes a step towards you, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his pajama pants, “Did I miss breakfast?” 

“No, what can I get for you?”

“Denver Omelet?” 

“Sure,” you clasp your hands together behind your back, “Hashbrowns? Fruit? Anything to drink?” 

“Yes, yes, and yes—coffee, water, orange juice with pulp.”

“Down here or in your room?” 

“Here is fine.” 

“You got it,” you smile, walking back to the kitchen. The creak of his footsteps mimic yours on the old hardwood floor, so you think he’s going to sit at the dining room table, but the duo whine of the swinging kitchen door takes you by surprise. 

You turn to face him, “Oh, you don’t have to—”

“May I?” He holds up the wooden onie box. 

“Sure,” you nod, clicking the range hood on, then go to crack the window open. 

The soft murmur of the radio fills the silence while you prep his breakfast and he smokes. You absentmindedly hum along to the Christmas music, dicing a green pepper, an onion, and some ham. By the time you approach the stove to start cooking, he’s tucking the paraphernalia away in the pocket of his pajama pants. 

“Have any big plans for the day?” He asks as he goes over to the coffee pot and pours himself a cup. 

“Ahhh, well… I think I’m gonna knock out some tasks that are hard to do when we’re busy. Inventory and deep cleaning, things like that. What about you?”

He shrugs, leaning back against the counter, “Gonna try to keep plugging away at painting ideas.”  

“Oh yeah? What’re you painting?” 

“It’s uhhh… it’s part of a series I’m working on, capturing the essence of interesting hotels across the country.” 

“Really? That’s—that’s actually really cool. I love that. And you chose Blue Moon Manor?”

“Well yeah,” he sighs, looking around, “It’s gorgeous. The original features are well-preserved, all the intricate woodwork and craftsmanship. It’s unique, I like it.” 

“I agree, it’s a special place.”

“I’m just… I don’t know, I’m stuck at the starting line, not sure what to paint. I haven’t found anything here that feels right yet.” 

You look between him and the menagerie of omelet fillings sizzling in the pan, “Have you seen any of the other suites?” 

“In pictures.” 

“If you want, I can show you around today? All the vacancies are made up pretty. You can poke around and see if you find any… I don’t know, inspiration, or whatever.” 

“Yeah?” He grins, “That would be… yeah, fuck yeah, that would be amazing.” 

—

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 24TH, 2:00 PM

You may be in trouble. 

Not the kind of trouble punishable by anyone but yourself, but still. 

What you mean is that you think you might have a crush on Dieter. Or, more honestly, what you mean is that you know you have a crush on Dieter. 

This revelation occurred to you about halfway through your impromptu tour of Blue Moon Manor.

You were standing in the sunroom of Suite 203 while he wandered around, jotting down notes and taking pictures on his phone. The snow fell heavy outside, coming down in thick wet clumps that made it difficult to see beyond the border of the property. Everything blanketed in a pristine, shimmering white. 

A deep sense of isolation plummeted your heart to your feet. Christmas Eve, when people all across the world gathered with loved ones, and you were working. Not that your empty one bedroom apartment missed you much. At least if you were there, you could lay in bed eating raw cookie dough while watching your comfort tv show. Throw yourself a proper pity party. 

So, there you were, wallowing in your circular loneliness, going around and around the drain of self-pity, when Dieter approached you. 

“Hey, you alright?” 

You snapped out of your trance and looked at him, finding something very earnest and knowing in his eyes. It surprised you. He didn’t strike you as the kind of person who generally cared about what others were feeling. 

“Yeah, just… thinking about how much I’m gonna have to shovel,” you chuckled, brushing off his concern. 

“Sorry, you just looked… I don’t know, kind of sad.”

“I’m fine,” you assured him with all the sincerity of someone whose pants were on fire. 

“Uh huh,” he studied you for a moment, then looked down at his phone and shook his head, releasing a big sigh, “I think I’m ready to move on.” 

“Alright, follow me,” you pushed off the window and walked past him. As you did so, you misjudged your space and brushed up against him. 

Pure negligence or subconscious desire, you’re still not sure, but the contact was a static shock. This quick jolt of heat that made you gasp and jump away from him, stammering, “Oh shit. Sorry, I, um—”

He chuckled, a handsome, dimpled smile stretching across his face, “It’s fine.” 

“I’m embarrassed,” you blurted out. As if it wasn’t obvious enough. 

“Don’t be,” he shoved his hands into his pockets and shrugged, “Accidents happen.” 

“Ok,” you laughed and buried your heated face in your hands, then regained your composure and said, “Ok, let’s see Suite 201.” 

“Is that the shitty one?” 

“It’s not shitty,” you snorted, starting towards the door, “It’s perfectly fine, just not as glamorous as the rest of them.” 

“Uh huh. Like the ugliest Miss America contestant.” 

“Sure—”

“Or the uhh… the smallest blue whale.” 

“Yeah, I mean—”

“Suite 201 is to this hotel what Def Leppard is to glam rock.”  

“Wow, ok,” you laughed, ushering him through the doorway into the hall, “Yeah, I think you got it.” 

The whole dumb interaction is all you can think about. It plays over and over again. That look, the accident, Def fucking Leppard. The rush of excitement you feel when you see him or even just think about seeing him.

It is undeniable. 

You have a big fat crush. 

So fucking professional. 

For what feels like the hundredth time, you lose count. You toss your clipboard down on the stack of fluffy white towels in defeat, scrubbing your hands over your face. 

Maybe a cleaning project would be more productive. The first floor common rooms need dusting, or you could scrub the floors, or prep dinner, or blah blah blah… god, it all sounds so fucking boring. 

Curiosity prods your heart. 

You tiptoe through the laundry room, out into the third floor hallway, and linger there for an indecisive moment, listening to the low bass of his humming to himself and the thick pulse behind your ears. A few cautious steps towards Suite 302 reveals a DO NOT DISTURB sign hanging from the doorknob. 

Rejection takes the shape of a stone in your mouth, heavy and hard and cold as you swallow it down. It settles uneasy in your gut. 

Dusting it is. 

—

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 24TH, 6:59 PM

Every minute that drags on feels like an eternity. 

The grandfather clock in between the library bookshelves mocks you. 

Tick-tock-tick-tock

Begins to sound more like: 

He-doesn’t-like-you 

You glare at it, then down at your phone, swiping away a low battery warning to continue playing cribbage. 

Outside, the wind snarls. Blue Moon Manor groans in resistance, and you wriggle deeper into the sofa cushions, telling yourself: Five more minutes then I’ll check on him. 

It’s so dumb.

Really, you know how it sounds. 

But not once has he put out the DO NOT DISTURB sign. For two weeks, he has been consistently demanding, never letting more than three daylight hours go by without asking for something. 

As soon as you let yourself feel some affection for him? 

Can’t get far enough away from you. 

He-doesn’t-like-you-DING! DING! DING! DING!—

You sigh at the clock. 

—DING! DING! DING!

“Fuck’s sake,” you mutter.

The lights die. 

All white noise drops except the crackle of the fireplace, howling wind, and ticking clock. 

“Fuck.”

Two floors up, something clatters to the ground, then Dieter hollers something unintelligible. 

Well, he seems chipper. 

You climb off the couch while googling power outages in the area. 

Footsteps thud down the steps onto the first floor landing. 

“Hello?” 

“I’m in the library,” you call, not looking up from your phone as you text your boss. 

His steps draw closer, then there’s a light in the doorway. 

“This place is so fucking creepy in the dark, Jesus Christ,” Dieter hisses, “What’s the deal?” 

You squint up at his dim figure, “Storm took out the power. I texted the manager to see if there’s a genny.” 

“Genny?”

“Backup generator,” you turn on your phone’s flashlight, “Sorry for the inconvenience, I’ll go see if I can find some lighting if you wanna wait here—”

“I’m coming with you.” 

“Oh, you don’t have to do that, sir—”

He gestures for you to lead the way, so you start towards the back office with Dieter hot on your heels. Once inside, you go over to the desk and pull open a drawer, fish out a headlamp, and slide it around your head. When you press the on button, a beam of light shoots from your forehead onto the desk.

“Cute,” he teases. 

You look at him, unintentionally shining the light in his face.

He steps back and shields his eyes, “Jesus!” 

“Ope. Sorry sir,” you stifle a laugh, grab a second headlamp from the drawer, and hold it out to him, “Do you want one?”

Grumbling under his breath, he takes it from you and slides it over his fluffy hair, then turns the light on. 

“Ok, this is pretty sweet,” he admits as he starts wandering around the room, “I feel like a miner or something.” 

“There should be a tote in here somewhere that has a bunch of candles,” you tell him as you start rifling through cupboards. When the search comes up empty, you try the closet, where you find a big purple tote labeled CANDLES. 

“Here we go,” you pull the heavy container out into the room. 

“Want me to carry that?” 

The offer holds about as much conviction as a drain holds water. He leans back against the desk, plucks a pen from the pencil cup, and starts doodling on your daily checklist. Barely interested. 

“No, I got it.” 

You lift it and shuffle past him, slightly demoralized, then immediately bump into the doorway, “Oop.” 

His headlamp blinds you, making you wince, then he chuckles, “Here.”

Dieter pushes off the desk and steps towards you, laying a gentle touch to your shoulder. 

When you forfeit the tote, you notice the dark smudges dried onto his hands and forearms. 

“Were you painting?” 

“Yeah,” he awkwardly adjusts his grip, then starts back the way you came. You follow behind him, trying to aim your light at the ground by his feet. 

In the kitchen, he says, “It smells good in here.”

“Probably the roast I made for dinner,” you pause for him to maneuver through the swinging door into the dining room, “I can get some for you after we get the candles going.” 

He holds the door open with his foot and waits for you to pass through the threshold before setting the bin down on the dining room table. 

“Thanks,” you say as he steps aside. 

The white candles come in three shapes: pillar, votive, and stick. All of them unscented, so when you pop off the lid to the tote bin, the only thing you can smell is wax and dust and old flames. 

You grab a half-melted pillar and ask, “Hey, do you have a lighter?” 

He rummages through his pockets and pulls one out, then takes the candle from you. The flint sparks into a tiny flame that he holds up to the wick until it ignites, casting a warm golden glow onto the walls and ceiling. You pass him another pillar. The pads of his fingers brush against your hand when he takes it, sending your heart racing. 

“Hopefully this isn’t a uhhh… weird or alarming thing to ask—”

“Oh god, what?”

“Is there anyone else here?” He lights the pillar and hands it to you, “You’re the only other person I’ve seen around.” 

You take the lit pillar and set it down shrugging, “There, aren’t umm… no, it’s just me and you.” 

“Oh.”

Where hyper vigilance should be, that old warning to not take candy from strangers, or not to turn your back on a man you don’t trust, something hungry and loud starts to grow. A devastating need for him to creep closer. For him to cross the boundary of what might be considered moral or right in such a situation. To touch you in ways that inspire heat between your thighs. 

He doesn’t, though. 

He just helps you light candles and strategically place them around the common rooms on the first floor, uncharacteristically reserved. You both remain quiet while you go about doing this, but the silence isn’t entirely uncomfortable. It’s the kind of silence that feels more like a peace treaty than a punishment. 

Your phone buzzes with a notification, and you pull it out, reading the text message out loud, “We don’t have a backup generator.”

“Shit.” 

“And power might be out until Tuesday.”

“Tuesday? Are you fucking serious?” 

“I apologize, sir—”

“Don’t do that,” he scoffs, shaking his head, “That whole… hospitality voice thing.”

The words come out sharp and bitter. 

Your blood pulses hot, and you hear yourself say, “I’m a hospitality worker, exactly what tone of voice do you expect I use?” 

“Like I’m a person, not a fucking client or whatever. I’m so sick of that shit, everywhere I go people kissing my ass,” he goes to the sideboard and flips over a glass, pouring whiskey while attuning his voice to a feminine, mocking tone, “Oh, Mr. Bravo, sir yes sir, do you need anything? Do you want a snack or a nap, do you need to be swaddled, do you want your dick sucked?”

He pauses to take a swig of the liquor. 

Meanwhile, steam might as well be coming out of your ears. Just fucking boiling with rage, needling the red danger zone. 

“I hate it. You all talk to me like I’m a goddamn toddler, it’s so fucking annoying—”

“Oh, fuck off. I’m annoying?” 

He leans back on the sideboard and blinks at you, swirling the whiskey in his glass. 

Stomping over to the liquor display, you pour a drink and seethe, “Ever think that maybe if you didn’t act like a fucking toddler, people wouldn’t treat you like one? I mean, for Christ’s sake, dude. You literally take a nap every afternoon and demand we cut the crust off your sandwiches. Last week you threw a temper tantrum because we put tap water in your sippy cup.” 

“Ok, first of all that was a water bottle. And, have you ever tasted the water here? It’s disgusting. Not to mention the fucking—”

“The fluoride, I know,” you roll your eyes, “I know I know I know. It’s gross and contains fluoride and tastes like blood or whatever the fuck—”

“I did not say it tasted like blood,” he quips, pauses to take a sip, which you mimic, then he adds, “It does, though, for the record.” 

“My point is that… If everywhere you go smells like shit, maybe you should look under your own shoe. You dig?” 

For a moment, you can’t read him. He stares down into his glass, twisting his wrist around in a way that draws attention to the thick-banded rings on his fingers. Then he glances up at you, a smirk playing on his lips, “That’s perfect. Can you just talk to me like that from now on?” 

Your head jerks back, and you let out a little scoff, “What, like a bitch?” 

“No,” he chuckles, “Like… I don’t know. Real. Real-er, anyway. You seem cool. You, though. Not your toothless, sanitized worksona.” 

“Jesus,” you scoff into your glass, shaking your head, “I’m not sure what to say to that.” 

“Anyway. I just mean… talk to me like I’m a person, not a fucking guest or whatever.” When you look up at him, he shifts a little and adds, “Please.”

You hold his gaze long enough for your stomach to flip, then chicken out, dropping your eyes to your glass, “Sir yes sir.” 

He lets out a chuckle, shaking his head, “Uh-huh.” 

You appraise the remaining whiskey in your glass, then tip it back, wincing at the burn as you set the glass down. 

“Do you want me to bring some candles up to your room, or will you be dining down here?” 

“Will you be joining me?” 

“Do you want me to?” 

“Yeah, of course,” he shrugs, “If you’re not busy.”

“I think I can squeeze you in,” you tease. 

His tongue pokes out to wet the seam of his lips, then his smirk breaks out into a big, boyish smile, “You think so, huh?”

The innuendo makes itself clear. Your face heats up and you snort, “Shut up.”

“Hey, you said it, not me,” he raises his hands defensively, following you as you start towards the kitchen, “Is it cool if I smoke?” 

You push through the swinging door, holding it open for him, “I can’t turn the fan on.” 

“Uh-huh,” he ambles over to the counter beside the sink and casually hops up onto it, “Is that a yes or a no?” 

After taking a moment to weigh the pros and cons, you sigh, “Just… blow it out the window, ok?” 

So he smokes while you pull the roasting pan from the oven and prepare two plates, piling on potato wedges and green beans and hearty slices of roast beef. You wrap up your activities simultaneously, then move back to the dining room. 

While you set the table, he goes over to the wine cabinet and asks, “Wine?” 

You hesitate, once again contemplating the pros and cons of answering in the affirmative. If the wine goes to your head, you could make a mistake. On the other hand, maybe it would help untangle your knotted stomach. Make it easier to converse with him. 

“Don’t feel like you have to say yes,” he adds when he notices your trepidation. 

“Fuck it, why not?” 

So fucking professional.

With his back turned to you, he surveys the bottles displayed in the wine cabinet, “Pinot? Cab?”

“Actually, I was thinking of breaking out the 2016 Cos d'Estournel.” 

He looks over his shoulder at you, “The what?” 

“Left side, second row from the bottom,” you point to it from across the room, “Dark bottle, white label.” 

Once he finds it, he lifts it from the rack and studies it, “Cos d'Estournel. Ritzy stuff,” he sets it on the table between your seats, “What’s the occasion?” 

“What is this, a role reversal?”

He grins at this. Then, as if committing to the bit, he strides over to pull out your chair. When you raise your eyebrows at him, he smirks, “Humor me.” 

You roll your eyes a little as you sit down, but truthfully, your heart stutters. 

Dieter walks back to the cabinet and picks out two wine glasses, “So? The occasion?” 

“I don’t know,” you frown, “Well, I mean, I do know, but it’s hard to explain.” 

He doesn’t say anything as he twists a corkscrew into the wine bottle and yanks out the cork, then pours the rich red wine into one glass, and the other. 

“It’s just… I don’t think I’ve been in a situation like this before. It’s strange. The storm, the holiday, the manor, the-the you.” He smirks, sliding a wine glass over to you, and you give him a nod of thanks, “I feel like anything could happen or nothing at all and I wouldn’t be surprised either way.” 

Again, he doesn’t respond, but a thoughtful expression creases his face as he takes the seat across from you. Not sure what to make of it, you ask, “Does that make sense?”  

“I know what you mean, yeah,” he leans back in his chair and swirls the wine around in his glass, meeting your eyes from across the table, “The possibilities within the confines of these walls are endless.”

The way he looks at you conjures impure thoughts. Hand between your thighs, nails digging into his back. Bending you over the table and pulling your hair. 

You raise your glass in the air, “To the possibilities.” 

“To the possibilities.” 

—

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 24TH, 9:30 PM 

You sit at either side of the lush Victorian sofa in the library, cashmere blankets draped over each of your legs. Illuminated by the warm glow of candelabras and the crackling fireplace, you flip through a book on palm reading while Dieter draws in a sketchpad. 

For a while, he seemed quite engrossed in the project. Brow furrowed, hunched over the pad of paper as he scribbled. But with each monotonous tick-tock-tick-tock from the grandfather clock, he starts to stir more and more. 

He finally tosses the sketchpad down beside him, leaning back and letting out a long groan, “I’m so boooorreeeeed.” 

“Drama,” you tease, peeking over your book at him, “Can I do anything to help?” 

“Can I open another bottle?” 

“Go for it.” 

Dieter jumps to his feet and clicks on his headlamp. The dancing beam of light fades out of sight as he walks into the hallway. 

With a sigh, you look down at the book and try to continue reading, but keep losing your spot. Your attention instead is drawn to the fireplace. Its flickering flames seem to pull you into some kind of a trance, coaxing out bite-sized daydreams and nightmares, trying to predict what will happen when you and your fresh new crush start drinking in the dark. 

What happens if we get drunk? Would we fuck? Would we fight? Would he be mean? Or pushy? Would I make a fool of myself? 

You sit here for a while, letting these tiny fires burn out in your brain, so engrossed that you barely notice Dieter mosey back into the room. 

“Hope wine is ok,” he says as he clicks the headlamp off, then he sets out two wine glasses and a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon on the coffee table. 

“Of course, sir.” 

He snorts and shakes his head while leaning over to twist a corkscrew into the bottle. 

“Sorry. Habit.” 

“Don’t sweat it, sweetheart,” he yanks the cork from the bottle, then pours out two servings, “What’ve you there?” 

“Hmm?”

“The book.”

“Oh,” you hold it up to show him the cover, “Cheiro’s Palmistry for All.” 

He holds out a glass to you. You set the book aside and take it from him, crossing your legs to get more comfortable. 

“Palm reading?” 

“Yeah,” you chuckle, “I don’t know, it seemed interesting.“

“Have you ever been to a palm reader?” 

Shaking your head, you take a sip of wine. Then another. A warm buzz tingles on your tongue and you ask, “Have you?” 

He nods, “Yeah. Well, kind of. I dated this girl who dabbled in divination,” he takes a big gulp of wine, then sets his glass on the coffee table and moves closer, gesturing for your hand, “Here.” 

“You know how?”

“I picked up on some stuff,” he shrugs. 

Leaning forward, you place your glass next to his and bring yourself closer, extending your hand to him.

He holds it like a fragile thing, gentle but steady, “Is this your dominant hand?”

You nod. 

Smoothing a thumb over your palm, he coaxes you to unfurl your fingers. His skin is warm and soft on yours as he examines you, thick fingers tracing the creases of your palm. 

It feels nice. Intimate, almost. No thanks to the wine and ambient lighting. 

“This side shows your conscious mind. Your life right now,” he clears his throat and says, “You’re perceptive, intuitive, a little moody. Emotions tend to run the show, but you’re also a realist. You have a passion for life and adventure, but often find yourself paralyzed by the reality of your situation, leaving you in a constant state of dissatisfaction. Logical, hard-working. You’re independent. You’ve had financial and emotional hardships. Not many serious romantic relationships, mostly flings. But this doesn’t mean you don’t get attached easily. You do, but tend to put up walls to protect yourself and disconnect before it gets too serious.”

Static vibrates through your skin. An eerie, frantic feeling of being seen too close for comfort. You swallow hard and study his face, too afraid to confirm or deny its accuracy. 

“Cup your hand,” he instructs, guiding your hand to do so. Furrowing his brow, he examines the soft fleshy bits on your palm, poking and prodding them, “You have a temper, but you’re shy. You’re cynical. Closed-off. Reliable, because you have to be, but you wish you could just say fuck it and run away sometimes. That’s umm… that’s who you are in practice. Other hand.” 

You give him your non-dominant hand. It’s shaky and sweaty and as he takes it you chuckle, “Sorry, I’m… nervous.” 

Grinning, he glances up at you, “So I’m doing well, then?” 

“Yeah,” you gulp, heat rising to your face, “It’s… yeah. Hang on, can I…?”

You take your hand back and wipe it on your pant leg, then reach over to grab your wine glass, swallowing the remainder of your wine. He does the same, then refills them. 

While this is happening, you can’t help but notice the thick current of electricity pulsing between you. 

You take turns stealing fleeting glances, and when you return to face each other, legs crossed, you’re much closer than you were before. Your knees meet his, maybe probably definitely crossing the line of what is considered appropriate distance for you to have with a hotel guest. Neither of you seem to mind, though. 

In fact, it seems like quite the opposite. 

As you extend your non-dominant hand to him, he huddles even closer, so close you can smell the Bordeaux on his breath, and cradles your hand in his. 

“This side shows your natural tendencies. Who you are in theory, who you will be if you follow your intuition,” he murmurs, eyes flicking to yours, then back to your palm as he slides his index finger along a deep, diagonal crease, “First of all, your fate line is strong. If you follow your intuition, you’ll succumb to it.”

“Ominous.”

He frowns and shakes his head, reverentially tracing the sensitive map of your palm, “No, actually. You’ll have a crisis or two. One big one, at least, some kind of a revelation that causes you to upend your life. But it sets you on a path of vitality and happiness and strength. A few smaller ones, not as momentous, but still significant. The hopeless romantic you are, you’ll fall in love hard and fast, but that’s the one that sticks. You freely express your emotions and feelings. It’s… I mean, it seems good. Who wouldn’t want that? Cup your hand for me, sweetheart.” 

You do. 

He smooths his thumb over the mounts and divots, tilting his head at them, “You’re stubborn and you have a strong sense of self. Hedonistic. Imaginative. You daydream a lot. I don’t think you’re as reserved and shy as you let on. Maybe it’s a defense mechanism you learned along the way.”

You look up at him, finding his eyes locked on yours. A deep longing bubbles up your spine and you feel yourself lean in a little closer. He continues caressing your hand, dropping his gaze to your mouth, and asks, “Do you want my advice?” 

“Sure.”

“I think you should follow your intuition. See where it takes you. I think… you need to let go of whatever reservations you have from the past, because it’s holding you back from a beautiful life.” 

There’s a part of you that boils red and hot with denial. It screams from the back of your head that this is all bullshit, he’s just trying to fuck you, to use because he’s bored and tipsy. 

But really, you know he’s right. 

You know you’re dissatisfied with your white-knuckle, fake smile existence. You ignore your desires and inner-most knowing in favor of security. You attribute more weight to the negatives than the positives in every aspect of your life. 

“You’re saying I should follow my gut?” you ask, studying his face. 

He brushes your palm with his thumbs, “Yeah. I think so.” 

You look down at his touch, hesitantly bringing your unoccupied hand to his forearm, allowing yourself to feel his warmth, “But what if it’s wrong? What if I make a mistake?” 

“But what if it’s right?” 

Meeting his eyes, you recognize the longing in his heavy-lidded gaze. You bring your hand to his cheek, sliding your thumb across his patchy facial hair, heart pounding, nerves buzzing as you close your eyes and lean in.

His soft lips meet yours. A gentle, questioning kiss that flips your stomach upside down. You pull back to make sure it’s ok. He seems to do the same, dark eyes flicking around your face before slipping a hand behind your head and pulling you back in. 

The second kiss holds more conviction. A spark that ignites you both, quickly leading to the third and fourth kiss, at which point they start to blend together, a mess of tongues and spit and gasps. 

You climb onto his lap, straddling him, pressing your body onto his. Through the fabric of his pajama pants, you feel his hardened excitement and use it to your advantage, rolling against him to gain friction. He grabs your hips and rocks them in sync with your movements, groaning into your mouth. 

Heat builds steady at your core, tingling and gushing through your veins, screaming for more more more. Aching to feel the warmth of his skin on yours, you slip your hands under the hem of his shirt and slide your palms up his back, pulling him closer. 

He parts from your lips to take off his shirt. You do the same, unbuttoning your shirt and tossing it aside, then reach back and claw at your bra clasp. 

“Let me,” he signals for you to turn around. You do, climbing onto your knees with your back facing him. His fingers ghost along your spine, leaving a trail of twitching, hungry nerves in their wake. 

“That feels good,” you tell him, arching your back with a whine. 

“Good,” he murmurs, continuing the tedious touch, “I wanna make you feel so fucking good, sweetheart. Is that what you want?” 

“Yes.”

When he unclasps the bra, you slip it off while he slides a hand around your belly and pulls you back into his lap. 

He leaves a trail of kisses from your shoulder to the nape of your neck, where he stops to massage his tongue against you. A moan erupts from your throat at the tingling, hot sensation it cultivates. His hands roam around your body, over your breasts and ribs and abdomen, activating all those often-neglected nerves, but never staying long enough to bring relief. 

“Fuck, Dieter,” you whine, “You’re teasing me.” 

“Maybe,” he chuckles, smoothing a palm up your sternum and urging you to lay back onto his chest. You follow the suggestion and recline against him, head resting on his shoulder. Your skin buzzes where it meets his, the warmth of him flooding your brain with feel-good chemicals. He drags his fingers along the soft skin of your belly, making you whimper.  

“But it feels good, doesn’t it?”

You nod.

“Don’t you want to savor it?” He cups your breasts and rolls your nipples between his fingers and thumbs, sending a rush of pleasure to your head, “Don’t you want me to show you how good it feels when you finally let go?”

“Yes,” you gasp, nodding, eyelids fluttering closed, “I want it, I want it—”

“Good,” he coos, pinching your nipples harder, “I want it too. Wanna see you fall apart in my hands. Will you let me do that for you, sweetheart?” 

“Yes.” 

He releases your tits and tugs at the waistband of your pants, “Take these off for me, will you?” 

You roll off the couch onto your feet, facing him as you slowly tug at your waistband, teasing every inch of skin you reveal. He watches you with lust-blown eyes, palming himself as he drinks in the spectacle. 

“Underwear too?”

He nods. 

You hook your thumbs under the soft fabric of your bikini, “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“I wanna see it.” 

“You wanna see it,” he mutters, chuckling a little, “Ask and you shall receive, Princess.” 

He shimmies out of his pajama pants, keeping his eyes on yours as you slide the underwear down your thighs. His thick, hard cock bobs out and waves hello. 

“Fuck,” he sits up and rests his warm palms on your hips, glancing between you and your cunt, “Look at this pretty pussy, holy shit. Come here, baby. Come sit on my lap again.” 

���If I sit on your lap, will my Christmas wish come true?” 

“Maybe,” he smirks and leans back onto the sofa, tugging on your hand to follow. You turn around and carefully lower yourself onto his thighs, his knees between yours. Guiding you closer, he murmurs in your ear, “Tell me what you want, sweetheart, I’ll see if I can make it happen.” 

You lay back on his chest, once again letting your head rest on his shoulder, and stroke his cheek as you tell him, “I want you to touch me.”

“I can do that,” he chuckles, kissing your forehead as his hands begin to wander, sliding down your sides to your hips and thighs, between your legs to pry them apart, “There we go, baby.”

When he touches your entrance, you both groan. His cock twitches against your back. He drags his fingers up and down your seam, spreading your slick, hissing in your ear, “Fucking soaked for me, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

“Uh-huh,” you whimper, nodding, watching  him pet your swollen clit so soft and slow it sends sparks of need up your spine, “That feels so fucking good holy shit—”

“Yeah? You like the way I play with your sweet little cunt?” 

“Oh my god—I do, Dieter, I do.” 

A feral noise rumbles in his chest, and his fingers pick up speed, working in quick, tight circles as he pants in your ear, “I love it when you say my name. Sounds so fucking good on your lips. Say it again for me, baby.” 

“I love the way you touch me, Dieter, please don’t stop.”

“Wouldn’t fucking dream of it, sweetheart. I just wanna make you feel good, make you feel so fucking good—”

You moan when he sinks one thick digit inside you, making your body buzz with pleasure. Your eyes flutter shut and you reach back, blindly carding your fingers through his hair, caressing his cheek, his neck, tugging on his earlobe, anything you can do to ground yourself and somehow repay the ecstasy accumulating thick and hot inside your belly. 

He kisses your palm and asks, “Do you want more?”

A sort of strangled noise comes out of you, but you nod in the affirmative, and he obliges, sliding another finger inside you. They rut in and out at a steady pace, keeping tempo with his undulating touch on your clit. Heat branches out at the center of you, coursing through your veins, making your heart race.

You gasp and nod, “Keep doing that, Dieter, don’t stop please don’t stop holy shit—”

“You gonna cum for me, baby, hmm? Cum all over my fucking fingers?” 

“Yes yes yes yes yes—”

Your whole body clenches as the feeling grows and grows, reaching a precipice.

“That’s it, sweetheart, let it go,” he pants in your ear, and when you plummet over the edge, whole body twitching with blinding pleasure, he coos, “Theeere we go—”

You whimper and clamp your legs shut, letting out a series of gasping breaths as the waves of your orgasm pulse, then start to peter out. Your tensed muscles go limp, and you open your eyes to look up at Dieter, “Jesus Christ.” 

“Yeah?” 

He gives you a boyish grin that makes your chest swell with desire. You sit up and turn around to face him, straddling his lap with his cock pressed hard against your wet, throbbing pussy.

Tracing the curve of his lips, you purr, “I have another Christmas wish.”

“What’s that?”

You roll your hips, gasping at the pressure of him against you, “I want you to fuck me.”

He moans, eyelids fluttering and lips parting, head falling back against the sofa as he grabs your hips and silently urges you to keep going. You whimper and start to move to the rhythm of his suggestion, sliding up and down his length. 

“Wanna feel your cock inside me,” you breathe, brushing his cheek with your knuckles, meeting his dark, wanting eyes, “Want you to stretch me out and make me yours—”

“Holy fucking shit—”

“Do you want that?” you coo, searching his face. 

“God yes, please, baby.” 

You situate the tip of him at your entrance and hook your hands behind his head, then lower yourself down. 

The stretch of him is exquisite. He activates every nerve ending he touches with an aching, hungry need. Your mouth falls open with gasping breaths and pathetic little whimpers, and you hear Dieter groan, “So fucking tight, Jesus Christ—”

“Feels so goooood,” you croak, closing your fists in his hair. 

He sucks in air through clenched teeth, digging his fingers into the meat of your ass, and rocks you back and forth, each thrust rubbing along something absolutely devastating. You blink your eyes open to meet his, all lust-blown and wide with awe, searching your face. His hand slides up to your face, cupping your cheek, brushing his thumb against your heated, damp skin. 

“Kiss me,” he pants, reeling you in. 

You fold over on top of him, meeting his lips with desperate urgency, a frantic exchange of messy kisses marked with gasps and moans. As the heat in your belly grows, you roll your hips faster, and he thrusts up into you, parting from your lips to growl, “You take my dick so well, sweetheart—that sweet pussy feels so fucking good wrapped around me, oh my fucking god—”

“Feels so fucking good, Dieter, don’t fucking stop,” you whimper, pressing your forehead against his, nodding in approval as he grabs your hips and fucks up into you hard and fast, “Oh my god, just like that baby yes yes yes—”

He captures your lips in his and you both moan into the heated, needy kiss, static building and building, spreading hot from your center. It feels so fucking good your eyes start to tingle and swim with tears, and you cry, “I’m gonna fucking cum, don’t stop—”

“That’s it baby, just let go, let it go, let me feel you—”

“So fucking good—Ffffuck—”

The force of your climax steals your breath, ecstasy pulsing liquid static through you, then yanks you down from the clouds and sends you crashing into the earth. Your body convulses and you let out a choked sob. 

“Oh my god—oh my god, fuck,” his hips stutter and he pulls out, stroking his cock to completion, shooting hot ropes of cum onto your bodies with a moan. 

Both of you remain rigid for a few moments, chests heaving, silently reveling the sweet rush of release before going slack. You collapse on top of him, eyes closed, and release a content sigh as you play with the damp curls at the nape of his neck. 

He hums and wraps his arms around your middle, nuzzling into the crook of your neck, “How do you feel?”

“Amazing,” you chuckle, “Wow.” 

“Wow is right,” he snorts, then pets your hair and asks, “Any other Christmas wishes?” 

After thinking about it for a few seconds, your lips part with an answer, but you chicken out and close them. 

“Hmm?” 

“It’s dumb.” 

“Uh-huh,” he pulls back to meet your eyes, “Tell me anyway.” 

You chuckle a little, tracing his jawline, “It’s ok.” 

He just blinks at you, waiting, so you swallow and shrug, “I don’t want to sleep alone.” 

He hums, pressing a kiss into your forehead, then your cheek, “Do you wanna spend the night with me?” 

“Is that weird?” 

“I don’t think so. Do you?”

You shake your head. 

His gaze drops to your mouth, and you lean in to kiss him. It’s warm and soft and sparks hopeful optimism in your chest, like this is something and not nothing. 

When he pulls back, a sly smile spreads across his face, “Your place or mine?” 

—

MONDAY, DECEMBER 25TH, 8:00AM

When you wake in Suite 203, it takes a moment for the events of the previous night to catch up to you. 

The power going out, the candlelit dinner, the palm reading, the best fucking sex you’ve had in your life. 

Was it a dream? Did that actually fucking happen? 

But when you hear rustling from the other side of the bed, and feel an arm slip around your waist, pulling you back into his chest, reality punches you in the gut. 

You stay still and wait for Dieter’s breath to fall back into a pattern of soft snoring, then slip out of bed and take a shower. With the power still out and the blizzard still raging outside, it takes a bit of guesswork to navigate the process in the dim bathroom, but you emerge successful. 

When you tiptoe back into the bedroom, Dieter is still sleeping. You get dressed and go downstairs to make some coffee and think about your decisions. 

For an hour or so, you pace around the kitchen island, ruminating over the things he said to you, the things you said to him, the way he made you feel, and the reality of your position in life versus his. 

What felt good and right last night takes a different appearance in the harsh light of day. He could hurt you in so many ways if he wanted to. He could get you fired. He could be using you. He probably doesn’t actually care about you, he was just bored and horny and you were wrong this isn’t something, it’s nothing and you’re no one—

“Hey.” 

You freeze and look up at Dieter, standing by the fridge in a soft chartreuse bathrobe. 

“Hey,” you flash a nervous smile and wave, “How’d you sleep? Can I get you some coffee, anything to eat?” 

He frowns, squinting at you, “Why’re you doing that?” 

“Doing what?” 

For a few seconds, he just stares at you, letting tension twist your guts to shreds, then he drops his gaze to the floor and nods, “Ok. Ok sure.” 

Your whole body turns to cement. Cold and heavy and unmoving. 

He walks over to the French press and pours a cup of coffee, “So… you’re having some regrets, and you’re gonna go back to this now? Miss hospitality?” 

You swallow down a feeling like fire, avoiding eye contact as your vision blurs with tears, “I don’t know, I’m just… I’m just kind of freaking out, I guess?” 

“What’re you freaking out about?” 

“I guess it’s just that you were right,” you shrug, wiping at your eyes, “You know, with your palm reading. I get attached easily and, I don’t know… I don’t wanna scare you away because, umm… yeah.” 

When he doesn’t say anything, you glance up at him, finding a warm smile on his face. Surprised at the expression, you sniffle, “What?” 

He approaches you, still smiling, “Because you like me?” 

Heat rises to your face. You hold his gaze, watching him lean back on the counter beside you, and you mumble, “Maybe.” 

His smile grows wider, digging out dimples in his cheeks, “Yeah? Maybe a little bit?”

You shrug. 

“And you think that’s gonna freak me out?”

Again, you shrug. 

“Come here, sweetheart,” he murmurs, tugging on your hand. A fresh wave of tears floods your eyes when he wraps his arms around you, stroking your back as he assures you, “I like you too.” 

“You do?” 

“Cross my heart.” 

“You’re not gonna get me fired and ruin my life?” 

“What? No—I mean, I hope not. Unless your boss somehow finds out you got dicked down in the library—”

You laugh through the tears, “Oh my god, that would be a fucking nightmare.” 

He chuckles, pulling back to look at you. You hook your hands behind his head, and the two of you stare at each other for a few seconds, humor fading from your faces, then you whisper, “This is… this is something, though, right? I’m not crazy?” 

“I think it’s something,” his eyes flit around your face, and he shrugs, “You know, I’m a lot like you. I, umm… I tend to keep people at a distance, because I fall easy and hard and yeah… it’s scary. But, I don’t know. I have a good feeling about you.” 

You nod, glancing down at his mouth, “Intuition?” 

“Yeah,” he smirks, leaning in closer. His lips press against yours, giving you a slow, tender kiss that blossoms in your heart. 

When you pull back, he tells you, “I do have one immediate problem, though.” 

“What?” 

“I don’t know how to ask you to make me breakfast without sounding like an asshole.” 

“Like that’s ever stopped you before.” 

“Wow. That’s it, I’m docking a star from my review.”

“Uh-huh,” you grin, running your fingers through his messy hair, “I cannot imagine what your review of this place would be.”

He takes a deep breath, then puts on an infomercial voice and says, “Four out of five stars. Gorgeous building, the food is amazing. Truly unique place. One of the employees let me eat her pussy for breakfast—”

You snort with laughter. 

“—could not recommend enough. Deducted a star because she said I was an asshole.” 

“Lovely, but you did not eat my pussy for breakfast. I’m sure I would’ve remembered that.” 

“Not yet I didn’t,” he waggles his eyebrows at you, sneaking a few kisses as he herds you backwards onto the kitchen counter. 

—

MONDAY, DECEMBER 25TH, 6:00PM

After breakfast—real breakfast, not oral sex in the kitchen, which was a treat in itself—Dieter went up to Suite 302 to finish the painting he wasn’t able to finish yesterday. 

On paper, you had a very busy day. Your daily checklist gives you credit for every single item and some extras. 

In reality, you cleaned up the messes made yesterday, which mostly involved washing dishes and following a wiki-how on getting cum out of velvet, and put together a charcuterie board for whenever dinner would happen. 

With the remaining daylight hours, you laid on the chaise in the parlor, then the bed in Suite 203, and flipped through books of poems, and successfully resisted your many urges to disrupt Dieter’s work. 

The snow stopped overnight, but the blizzard continued to howl all day. Strong gusts whirled the freshly-fallen snow through the air like some kid shaking up a snow globe. But when sunlight started to fade, so did the wind. Everything settled in its place, and the thick blanket of white finally became distinguishable from the nighttime sky. 

Inside Blue Moon Manor, Dieter completed his painting, then crawled into bed with you. Apparently it had been just as difficult for him not to disrupt his own work. 

He said he thought about you all day. He said he wanted to say fuck it and put the painting on pause to spend time with you, but felt he needed to finish it. He wanted to show it to you after dinner. 

Naturally, your nerves have been buzzing since. 

You insisted on an earlier dinner, blaming the lack of a lunchtime meal, but the look on his face when you made the argument made it clear he could see right through you. He didn’t mind, though. He helped you pour out glasses of wine to pair with the charcuterie board, then the two of you set everything up beside the fireplace in the parlor and fucking demolished it. 

Afterwards, you washed the dishes while he smoked pot by the window. You didn’t even care if your boss smelled it anymore. It seemed trivial. 

As Dieter tucks away his onie-box in his pocket, you recount the thought to him. He hops down off the counter and scoffs, “I mean really, what would he do? Fire you?” 

“I don’t think he even can. There are three people that work here, and I am by far the most reliable.” 

“I believe it,” he takes your hand, leading you from the kitchen to the dining room, “Tell you what, if my smoking gets you fired, you get to stay here with me and make his life hell.” 

You laugh at this, shaking your head, “Yeah, ok.” 

He turns around, “What, you don’t believe me?”

“No, I believe you. I just think it’s the kind of bet someone knows they’ll win.” 

“And winning in this case would be, what? You keep working this dead-end job while I drive myself crazy thinking about you?”

“Hey—it’s a good job,” you release his hand and cross your arms in front of your body. 

“No, that’s not—” he sighs, glancing around as he shifts his weight from side-to-side, “It’s a fine job, I just mean… I don’t know what I mean. I mean I wouldn’t mind it, you staying with me. That’s all.” 

Searching his face, you deadpan, “That’s so romantic.” 

“God, I can’t wait for you to see this,” he chuckles, then takes your hand and pulls you along, “Come on.”

You follow him through the dining room into the dark hallway, where you pause to turn on your headlamps, then climb the service stairs to the third floor, coming to a stop in front of Suite 302. 

“Alright, lights out,” he clicks the off button on both your headlamps and leads you through the doorway, then the pitch black room. 

“Ok, it’s probably gonna look weird in the lighting, but,” he turns your headlamps on, and you gasp. 

The canvas shows a sunroom with windows of blinding white light. Suite 203. And there you are, staring out the window, shadows falling over your face. 

“Dieter—”

From behind you, he slips his hands around your waist and kisses your cheek, then tells you, “I was taking pictures, you know, on the tour you gave me. And… I don’t know, I saw you there and took a picture because you just looked so…”

“Sad? Lonely?”

“Kind of. More like a, uhh… a palpable kind of longing. Sorrow and isolation. Like you’re looking for something or someone, but you don’t know what.” 

You reach back and cup his cheek, brushing your thumb against his patchy facial hair. 

“I wanted to capture that because it is… exactly how I’ve been feeling for years. Just so fucking lost and alone.” 

Butterflies flutter around in your stomach, and you whisper, “You don’t have to be alone anymore.” 

“Neither do you,” he murmurs, “Better yet, people all over the country will see you and know they’re not alone, either.” 

You swallow the lump in your throat and nod, your light bouncing around the canvas, then say, “It’s fucking beautiful, Dieter. What’s it called?” 

“Once in a Blue Moon.”

[aventurineswife]

u r now my go-to whenever i have an idea for aventurine :3 (and i love everything u write :3)

so like readers parents invite aventurine over cuz they wanna meet him. aventurine gets nervous (who wouldnt) and reader tells him itll be fine. but readers parents dont like him when they meet him for the first time bc hes part of the ipc (no one really likes the ipc im pretty sure). eventually he grows on them bc hes nice and treats reader well. once they learn his trauma and backstory they're joking about adopting him cuz theyve always wanted a son :3 but it doesnt really matter cuz aventurine is gonna marry reader anyway so theyll get the son they always wanted >v<

-:3 anon

Meeting the Parents!

Summary: Aventurine nervously meets your parents, who initially judge him due to his connection with the IPC. Despite their doubts, his kindness and the revelation of his traumatic past win them over. By the end of the evening, your parents jokingly consider adopting him, unaware that Aventurine plans to marry you, making him family in more ways than one.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Fluff, Family Dynamics, Nervousness, Romance, Humor, Trauma, Supportive Parents.

Warnings: Light angst, mentions of trauma, family tension.

A/N: HEHEHE THANK YOU SOO MUCH!! 🤭💖 AND I LOVE YOUR REQUESTS!! <33

Aventurine stood in front of the mirror, adjusting his collar for what felt like the hundredth time. He’d faced down intimidating boardrooms, handled high-stakes deals, and even wagered his career on sheer wit and nerve. But nothing could compare to the butterflies fluttering wildly in his stomach at the thought of meeting your parents.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked, his usually confident voice edged with uncertainty. His eyes found yours in the reflection, an unspoken plea lingering in them.

You took his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “They’re going to love you, Aven. Just be yourself, okay?”

His usual grin flickered on his face, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Myself?” he echoed with a soft chuckle. “I hope they can handle that.” He took a deep breath and straightened his posture, donning his most dashing smile, a look that usually melted away doubts. “Alright, let’s do this.”

The smell of fresh-baked bread filled the air as you stepped into your parents' house, leading Aventurine by the hand. Your mother greeted you warmly, her gaze flicking to Aventurine with curiosity…and a touch of skepticism. Your father, meanwhile, offered a polite nod, but there was no missing the cautious look in his eyes as he took in the flamboyant attire, the card suit details, and the peacock feather earring glinting in the light.

“Mom, Dad,” you began, smiling encouragingly, “this is Aventurine.”

Aventurine extended his hand to your father. “A pleasure to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. [L/N].”

Your father shook his hand briefly before pulling back. “So, IPC, huh?” he remarked, eyebrows raised. “Not the most popular organization in these parts.”

Aventurine’s confident smile faltered just a bit. He shot a glance your way, as if to gauge if this was the normal reception. You gave him a supportive look, and he recovered, nodding smoothly. “Yes, sir. It does carry a reputation—but I’m not your typical IPC manager.” He laughed, but your parents' silence made the sound a bit strained.

Your mother gestured for everyone to sit, her eyes fixed on him as though assessing some hidden quality. “We know that our [Name] has always been a good judge of character,” she said delicately, “but IPC isn’t exactly known for…compassionate work. What drew you there?”

Aventurine paused, clearly grappling with how much to share. “It’s…complicated,” he said eventually. “But to be frank, I didn’t have much choice. When life’s odds are stacked against you, sometimes you have to play the hand you’re dealt.”

That seemed to strike a chord with them, though they exchanged skeptical glances. Noticing the tension, you gently rested your hand on his, giving him a nod to continue. He met your gaze, and something in your eyes—trust, reassurance—seemed to ease the tension in his shoulders.

Throughout dinner, Aventurine worked to prove himself. He shared stories from his travels and even cracked a few jokes, though his laughter was softer, more tentative than usual. And you noticed him sneaking a worried glance at you each time your father’s questions probed a little too close for comfort.

But slowly, as the evening unfolded, the initial frostiness began to thaw. Your father seemed to soften, maybe even appreciate Aventurine’s resilience and tenacity. And your mother, despite her initial concerns, seemed almost charmed by his good manners and his clear affection for you.

“So, Aventurine,” your mother began, refilling his glass of water, “tell us a bit more about your family.”

He froze, the smile slipping from his face for just a moment. You felt his hand clench slightly under the table, and instinctively, you rubbed his knuckles with your thumb.

“Actually,” he said quietly, looking at his drink, “I…don’t have family.” He gave a hollow laugh, shaking his head. “They’re gone. All of them, I suppose.”

Your parents’ expressions softened, and your mother reached out, resting her hand over his free one. “I’m sorry, dear,” she murmured, her eyes filling with a new warmth. “No one should have to go through that.”

Aventurine looked up, a surprised flicker crossing his face. “Thank you.”

By the time dessert arrived, the mood was lighter, laughter filling the room as your mother jokingly commented on how she always wanted another son. Aventurine flushed at the remark, glancing at you with a shy, boyish grin you rarely saw.

“Well, Mom,” you said, barely holding back your own grin, “it’s only a matter of time before he’s family anyway.” You shot a mischievous look at Aventurine, who raised an eyebrow, his signature confidence slowly returning.

“Oh?” your father asked, now leaning back with a playful smirk. “You plan on making things official?”

Aventurine chuckled, brushing a lock of hair behind his ear, a genuine, softened expression on his face. “Actually…yes, if your child will have me,” he said, his gaze warm as it found yours.

That night, as you walked back to your shared apartment, Aventurine’s hand wrapped securely around yours, he let out a long sigh, laughing softly. “They’re…amazing. I was so nervous. But they’re…your family, [Name]. And they really welcomed me, despite everything.”

You squeezed his hand, smiling up at him. “I told you they’d love you.”

He stopped, turning to face you fully, his eyes bright in the dim streetlight. “You were right. And…I want you to know, they’re my family now too. I’m going to protect you. Always.”

You leaned up, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. “I know. And I’ll protect you, too.”

Together, you walked on, your steps in perfect harmony. Aventurine didn’t have to gamble anymore; he’d already won.

[die-pink-maus]

A Weekend in Vienna 🇦🇹

While vacationing in Germany, Chantelle’s (OC) best friend, Adrian (also an OC), books an impromptu trip to Vienna to visit extended family. Chantelle decides to join her for the last few days of her trip, where she meets an interesting friend of Adrian’s family who offers to show the two around the city for the weekend🤭

TW: Pretty much none, not for this chapter anyway, but things will get 🌶️spicy🌶️ in the next parts. Also there is an age gap between OC and König, she is 25 and he is about 36-37.

CW: FemOCs, female pronouns used, while both characters are technically OCs please feel free to imagine them however you’d like, ultimately the main character is the reader, I just didn’t want to use “Y/N” so I gave them names 🙈

Word Count: 1,516

*DISCLAIMER*

This is my first time EVER writing any kind of fan fiction so please go easy on me 😭 if you like where things are going, likes and reblogs would be greatly appreciated! If you’d like to see anything in particular in the next part or part(s), I’d love to hear it!

This version of König is based on the above interpretation drawn by @lettaniko (I hope you don’t mind me using it! I absolutely love this drawing it’s perfect! 🫶🏼)

I like a nice build up to the smut so if you like to get right into it this is probably not going to be for you…but if you can wait I it out I promise it’ll be worth it 😂

Enjoy! 💋

7:30am. There’s approximately 30 minutes before my train departs for Vienna, and I still haven’t reached the train station yet. I scrambled as I dashed out of my hotel room, hoping I’d left the place in a somewhat decent state and I hadn’t forgotten anything valuable as got into the elevator. I’ve been exploring Munich for the past two weeks and I’ve been having the absolute time of my life. Although traveling alone can be quite scary, oddly enough, I’ve never felt more at home. Munich is such a vibrant city, filled with all kinds of exciting things to do and I’ve met so many incredible people, it’s definitely been the experience of a lifetime. To say that I am not looking forward to going back home to Vancouver would be an understatement, but all good things must come to an end. I’d spent about a year and a half learning to speak German, and promised myself that I would plan a trip in celebration of achieving fluency, so here I am! Now, Vienna wasn’t initially on my list of places to visit when I decided to come to Germany, but my best friend, Adrian, ended up booking a spur of the moment flight last week to visit extended family in Austria and suggested I come hangout with her during the last few days of my trip. Seeing as its only a 3-4hr train ride from Munich, I figured why the hell not! I’ve heard Vienna is beautiful, and Im at all not opposed to exploring another city.

Upon arrival at the train station in Vienna I was greeted by Arian, excitedly jumping up and down while holding up a large white sign that read “Willkommen in Wien, Schlampe!” I rolled my eyes and shook my head, laughing as I got off the train and ran over to her, tackling her in a tight embrace as she laughed hysterically. “Did you have to let the whole station know that I’m a bitch or…?”

“Honestly, they should’ve known the moment they saw you.” She said jokingly. “How was the ride over?” She asked.

“Amazing, I haven’t slept that well in years. It also didn’t feel like a 4 hour train ride.”

“Trains in out here are quite quick so I wouldn’t be surprised if it somehow took less time. They definitely shit on the ones we have back home.”

“Oh for sure.” I agreed as we began walking over to the car.

“So a family friend of ours just came back from a mission in the states, he’s in the military bee tee dubs —“

“Yeah kinda pieced that together when you said ‘mission’.” I chuckled.

“I don’t drive out here so he’s gonna give us a ride back to my aunts, cool?”

“Sounds good.”

“He’s also a lot more familiar with Vienna than I am, so he offered to show us around a bit later on this evening.” Aw how nice of him. Knowing Adrian, the first place she’ll want to be taken to is the nearest bar, that girl can drink! If there’s one thing I’ve learned from my time in Germany, and my 10 years of friendship with Adrian, it’s that Europeans love their liquor. There are people from all parts of Europe in Germany and that’s one thing that remains quite consistent across the board. I also love my liquor, which is probably why I ended up fitting in so well.

We finally arrived at the car and opened the trunk to begin loading all of my luggage inside. I’d brought a small carryon suitcase, a duffle bag, as well as a large suitcase that was full of clothes I’d over packed from home, and a bunch of other clothes and souvenirs I’d bought in Munich. “Okay this one’s gonna be a tad heavy.” I warned as Adrian grabbed hold of the handle on the top. I reached forward to try to help her lift, but neither of us could manage the weight. “I got it.” His voice was low, but gentle. He had an accent, but it wasn’t overwhelming or harsh, nor did it make anything he said hard to understand. I wasn’t expecting to see the person I saw when I’d finally caught a glimpse of him…I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man like this in my entire life. Adrian and I stepped back as he grabbed hold of the suitcase, lifting it with absolute ease, as if it were light as a feather. His arm muscles bulged within the confines of his olive green long sleeved shirt as he tossed the suitcase inside the trunk. My heart began to race, It felt as if I was watching him move in slow motion. “Easy peasy.” He smirked as he turned around and looked down at me, his dazzling dark blue eyes awash with amusement at Adrian and I’s prior struggle. Jesus Christ…This man is an absolute unit. He’s gotta be at least 6 foot 7, if not taller. He’s incredibly easy on the eyes in a rough and rugged kinda way — a nice low trimmed beard, medium length dark brown hair, and a smile that is captivatingly dangerous to say the least. His presence alone exudes a confidence that causes me to grow weak in the knees. “I’m König,” he smiled knowingly as he stretched his hand out towards me. I know I’m definitely not the first woman to look at him the way I am. Even though I’m trying to keep my composure, it’s very clear that he can see right through it. “And you must be Chantelle?” He asked, eyes slowly roaming about my frame from head to toe. He bites his lip slightly as they return to my gaze, suggesting so much without saying any words at all. “I — yes.” I blushed, sheepishly brushing my hair behind my ear as I shook his hand. “Nice to meet you.” He said. “Oh yeah, König Chantelle, Chantelle König.” Adrian yelled from the backseat. He laughed and shook his head as he closed the trunk.

We arrived at Adrian’s aunts house about 45 minutes later. König helped us load all of my things into the foyer before letting us know he’d be coming back in a few hours to take us out to this bar that he and a few of his buddies on his task force frequent whenever they’re home. I’ve been thinking about him ever since he left — those mysterious blue eyes, the way he slightly bites his lower lip just before laughing at something ridiculous Adrian has said, the way his arm muscles swell beneath his shirt with the slightest movement…God, he’s sexy. I could think of a million different ways I’d want him to ruin me. The thought alone of being trapped beneath his large brawny frame writhing in pleasure as he thrusts into me over and over has me clenching around nothing. Though I’m not usually one for a one time fling, I have a feeling he’d be able to convince me. “So, you wanna tell me what all of that was about?” Adrian asked as she helped me settle into the guest room. “What are you talking about?” I asked. “Since when are you a shy girl?” She giggled. Sigh. I figured she was referencing my unusual silence during the car ride over here. “He’s hot as fuck but I’ve never seen you like that before.”

“Ugh!” I groaned as I covered my face with a pillow. She’s right. I’m not very easily intimidated. I’m quite the confident woman and I ensure everyone in the room knows it, but this was different. Almost as if our energies were fighting for dominance, and mine didn’t stand a chance. “Hey if it’s any consolation, my jaw dropped the first time I saw him without his mask too.” Mask?

“Mask?” I asked.

“Yes…the last time I was here he was on base training recruits, so I’d see him often in full tactical gear. He’s a snipper, so he wears a mask to hide his face in the field. I mean, that was hot too, but in a Ghostface kinda way”

I couldn’t help but laugh at the comparison, but I was curious to see what his entire ensemble looked like. “How old is he?” I asked.

“I think he’s in his mid to late 30s? I’m honestly not too sure, and it doesn’t matter to me either way.” She winked. “I was sensing some unspoken vibes between the two of you in the car though. Don’t think I didn’t see both of you stealing glances at each other every now and then.” She smirked.

“Stop,” I scoffed. “A man like that is definitely not single, and even if he is…I don’t know” I blushed. “I didn’t see him looking at me..”

“K well I see everything, he definitely likes what he sees, and clearly the feeling is mutual on your end as well. Looks like tonight will be interesting.”

“Nothing’s gonna happen, Adrian.” I laughed as I rolled my eyes. Nothing’s gonna happen…right?

PART II 👉🏽 A Weekend In Vienna 🇦🇹: PART II

PART III 👉🏽 A Weekend In Vienna 🇦🇹: PART III

[delusionalmultifandomwriter]

Batfam Napping HC

requested?: No

HC: How does the Batfamily nap?

I had a very good nap today and it sorta inspired me so here we go!

Bruce takes "im just gonna rest my eyes for a second" naps. He sometimes dozes off in the office chair in front of the Batcomputer with his head tilted back. He totally snores. He will also sometimes fall asleep in WE meetings (this one is canon).

Dick can sleep anywhere and everywhere. Couch, bed, car, sitting in a chair, standing or hanging upside down. When he was younger he used to sometimes nap during the galas Bruce took him to. He would just stretch out over two, as he grew three chairs he moved together and sleep until they would go home.

Jason naps curled up because it reliefs his backpain. It is not as bad as it used to be when he first got free from the Joker, it got better when he started healing, but being Red Hood is exhausting and some days are just bad days. The napping mostly happens on accident, he just wants some pain relief for a few moments and suddenly he is out like a light.

Tim is chronically tired, we all know that. Sometimes he falls asleep at his desk either in the cave or at WE. Dick normally wakes him up or carries him to bed. Sometimes, when Dick spots Tim getting tired he gives him some headpats, some nice words and finally gets him to lay down with him. Dick and Tim like to cuddle, both of them are touch-starved as hell and they fight it off together. They can occassionally be spotted in either Dick's or Tim's room, Tim laying down on his older brother with his head tucked under Dick's chin. Their naps sometimes extend over multiple hours.

Damian sometimes naps in the barn with Batcow. He leans against her warm body and sometimes Alfred the Cat sleeps on his lap or Titus and Ace lay down with him. Damian gets very calm in the presence of animals and because the barn is a little away from the Manor, noone really ever caught him sleeping there. Only Alfred caught him once, he took a picture of it and keeps the moment treasured.

Babs has a couch in the Belfry right under the clock face where the sun shines through the stained glass lightly. She isn't bothered by light so she likes to nap while the sun warms her body. She thinks that warm sunlight is the ultimate weapon against deep aching cold in her bones. It is her treasured place.

Steph is a sucker for car naps. She sleeps best when she sits in the passenger seat of a car with someone trusted driving. When she still was Robin she used to fall asleep in the Batmobile after patrol sometimes. Batman never admitted it but it made him quiet emotional that Steph trusted him enough to sleep near him.

Cass, in general, only sleeps in her room with the door locked and the curtains closed. She naps the same way she sleeps, she needs the safety of her room. She sleeps on her back with her hands over the blanket or without a blanket at all. It's a habit from her assassin training that she can't quiet get rid off. She also puts a timer on 20 minutes because that is appareantly the optimal length for a nap. She sleeps through the alarm at least half of the time.

Duke is basically the only one that is not afraid to sleep in front of the rest off the family. One of the perks of joining the family late, is that they figured themselves out more or less so nothing bad happened between them (yet). Duke sometimes naps when he overused his powers and needs a quick energy refill. He mostly naps sitting up on a couch with his arms crossed on the backrest and his head resting on his arms. The rest of the family is always surprised if they find him sleeping just in front of everyone.

[imaginecolby]

Friends with Benefits || Part Four - The Announcement

"y/n come on! they’re already waiting on us." colby called from the door.

"oh hush. i'm pregnant and am going to abuse the hell out of this card for as long as i can."

"yeah, you made that abundantly clear when you demanded i bring you a tub of ice cream last night."

"half of which you also ate, so don't give me that." you said, finally walking out into the living room. you and colby were on your way to take your anouncement photos. you agreed on the idea of a baby explorer, and the two of you were also dressed in xplr t-shirts.

you grabbed you purse and keys from the counter, finally ready to head out. you walked to the door, stopping in your tracks as colby didn't move.

"what? what's wrong?" you asked, looking up at him and noticing tears in his eyes.

"nothing, it's just," he took a deep breath to prevent himself from sobbing. "you're starting to show."

"oh, yeah!" you smiled, placing your hands under your belly. "that's your baby in there."

"our baby." he corrected, placing his hand above your belly button. you stood silently, allowing colby to take in the moment. "alright, let's get going." he said quietly, wiping his tears and following you out of the door.

you made your way to the park near your house where your photographer was meeting your for your shoot. fortunately, they'd just arrived, so you didnt feel bad about having kept them waiting.

you followed them to the spot they had picked out, amongst the trees that truly fit the exploration vibe you were going for. you were there for about an hour, and got some really amazing shots. once you were done, your photographer told you it would take a little bit for them you to edit the photos and send them to you. while you waited, you and colby went out for a bite to eat while you waited.

you both were beyond excited to finally share the news with your friends and extended family. you both had already shared with your parents, and they were all over the moon.

“y/n, you’re going to be a wonderful mother. you have such a nurturing and caring heart, i already know you’re going to spoil that baby with love.” your mom said to you over video chat.

“i get it from you.” you smiled.

“i can’t wait to come see you soon. until then, im gonna get started on planning your baby shower!” she cheered before you exchanged your goodbyes and hung up.

colby’s parents were just as excited to be getting their first grandbaby. they shared similar sentiments about their faith in you and colby being wonderful parents, and were overjoyed with the idea of having a new baby to spoil.

after sharing the news, you and colby were proud of yourselves for avoiding the topic of your relationship, and the truth of how you got to this point.

after your lunch, you and colby did a little bit of shopping before heading back home. upon your return, you checked your phone and saw your had a new email from your photographer; your announcement photos.

“ahh, they’re done!” you said, moving to sit with colby on the couch.

“open them, open them!” colby said excitedly as you tapped on the email notification.

you scrolled through the pictures, you on the verge of tears over how much you loved all the pictures. you and colby sat there forever, trying to decide on which ones to share. you ended up deciding on three pictures; one of the onesie lying in the ground with your ultrasound photo on top of it, one of you and colby holding the onesie between you and sharing a sweet smile, and the last one, a photo of you sitting on the ground with the onesie draped over your belly.

“there’s a new member coming soon to team xplr ✖️” you wrote for your caption. you hit post and set your phone down, taking a deep breath.

“and now we wait.” you said. after only a few minutes, both yours and colby’s phones began buzzing on the table. there were only a few people that knew about your pregnancy before this. your parents were the first to know, and of course colby immediately told sam. you both also shared with your siblings, but that was it. you wanted the news to be just yours for as long as you could keep it.

as more and more notifications came through, you snd colby finally began going through them. you checked your texts first, both of your extended families passing on their congratulations and well wishes. then, you took to instagram.

since moving to LA, most of your friends were also colby’s friends, ones that he’d made in the social media industry. you had friends of your own through your work too, but most everyone you knew, you’d met through colby. fortunately, they’d always been taken with you as an individual, and were friends with you for you, and not just who you knew.

you scrolled through the comments on your post, smiling at what everyone had to say.

yourphotographer: “congratulations again to you both! thank you so much for letting me be a part of this wonderful announcement!”

samgolbach: “so excited to have another member of xplr nation! you giys are gunna be great parents and i cant wait to be kiddo’s favorite uncle ♥️”

jakewebber9: “oh no way! this is so exciting!! congrats to you both!”

katrinastuartofficial: “@yourusername @colbybrock i cant believe THIS is how im finding out?? but im too excited to be angry! this is incredible, congratulations!”

yourbestfriend: “still so over the moon about this!! @yourusername youre going to be the most wonderful mama, im so happy and excited for you 💖”

kianlawley: “yes!! another baby on the way! i cant wait for coast and your little one to have playdates”

jccaylen: “this is crazy! congrats you two! we’re growing up so fast”

amberscholl: “oh my goodness, congratulations! i absolutely cannot wait to take you shopping for baby clothes and other goodies! ✨”

you continued reading all of the comments from your friends and other followers. youd gained quite a bit of a following for yourself since being attached to sam and colby, so your comments were also flooded with their fans sending you congratulations as well. you refreshed your notifications, watching a new comment pop up at the top.

colbybrock: “im so excited for us to be starting this journey with you. im also a bit scared and nervous, but i know with you by my side, we can accomplish anything. i love you. 🖤”

you smiled and pinned his comment to the top, typing an “i love you too” in response. as you watched more comments roll in, more and more people began to point out something else about you and colby.

“oh shit.” you said aloud.

“what?”

“not only did we announce our pregnancy, we also announced our relationship.” you laughed.

“oh shit, youre right.” colby said, staring at your dumbfounded. “ive been thinking so much about the baby, i hadn't even thought that we hadn't told anyone about us yet.” he laughed

“you didnt tell sam? i figured you wouldve text him as soon as we talked.” you teased.

“i dont tell him everything,” he paused and you raised a brow at him. “that fast, at least.” he blushed.

“well, now it’s out there. im just glad it’s been a mostly positive response.” you said, nuzzling into colby’s side. he wrapped an arm around you and squeezed you tight.

“me too.” he said, kissing the top of your head. the two of you spent the rest of the evening at home, relaxing, watching movies with your dinner, and relishing in the happiness and support you felt radiating around your announcement. you were ecstatic, happier than youd ever been in your life.

[gyuluttony]

genuinely im feeling insane about maetgeon so have another fic hehe you know me and mutual gain so prepare to get sick of it... im still writing a lot these days but i randomly get bitten with maetgeon demons from time to time so...

Winter Time

This is a feederism fic and features weight gain, unintentional weight gain and smut. Don't like, don't read.

"Hyung, I'm nervous!" Gunwook fidgeted with his hands for a moment before his boyfriend took one, rubbing his fingers on his knuckles to reassure him.

"Don't worry, Gunwookie. My friends and family are going to love you. They've been asking about you forever." Matthew's smile had to have been a ray of sunshine in the darker winter days because right now, he wouldn't have even thought it was cold out.

Originally, since Gunwook had come abroad while studying, he didn't really know anyone. It was a little difficult to make friends as the foreign exchange student from Korea... but he managed to make one that sort of became his gateway for meeting just about everyone that he had met this semester.

Matthew was that gateway. Before they were dating, he extended his arm and showed him just how to interact with everyone and everywhere he needed to go on campus. It didn't take long for Gunwook to actively search out his hyung's attention and with time, even asking more of it. Their mutual friends were able to tell from a mile away that they were going to get together. Matthew's childhood friend, Hanbin, made sure Gunwook had someone else to talk to just in case he needed to spill his guts about him too.

"Seokmae... he's a really good kid. Just like you really!" Hanbin's smile was wide as Gunwook smiled sheepishly. It felt cathartic to find another Korean friend in Canada and even more so to tell him about the crush that he had on him. "I think you should go for it... because if you wait, he's not going to realize... he... has a thick skull sometimes..."

A couple more pep talks from Hanbin and Gunwook ended up confessing. The success sent him to the moon and he thought they'd spend time together at the dorms for the holidays.... until Matthew quite literally invited Gunwook to spend the entire break together.

They arrived at the door to Matthew's house as Gunwook took a shaky breath before the door opened. Almost like a whirlwind, Gunwook's hand was taken while he was cooed at by his boyfriend's family, all praising him for his good looks and happy that their son had picked someone so perfectly for himself. It was all positive attention that made his face burn before Matthew stepped between them.

"Alright, alright! We're gonna go to my room since the trip was long and then we're gonna come right back down!" His sister nudged him playfully before he raised his hand jokingly before taking Gunwook upstairs.

It was going to be a wild month while he got used to this.

-

There was one thing that Hanbin had mentioned to him. It was at a party when Gunwook had told their friends that he was going to Matthew's for the holidays. Hao was sitting comfortably in his boyfriend's lap, the hand resting comfortably on his waist.

"You..." His words were slightly delayed from the alcohol they were drinking but Hanbin smiled, "You should be aware that Seokmae's family... love treating their guests. He definitely knows it too." He points an accusing finger to his friend who's dancing on the dance floor a little ways away as Hao squeezes his cheeks.

"He's just trying to scare you. They're really nice. They treated Hanbin extra kind when they were there." Hanbin pouted as his boyfriend before he was melted with a kiss on the lips, eroding any complaints that might have followed.

For a while, Gunwook didn't really give it any thought... but when Hanbin said they treated them well, what it meant was that they treated them like royalty. Every waking hour, Gunwook felt like there was food being pushed inside of him from any of the family members. His dad was barbecuing something delicious, his mom cooking something and even his sister bringing treats from outside... there was hardly ever a moment where Gunwook didn't feel like he was beached on whatever he was sitting on.

It's not like his boyfriend wasn't in a similar state. There were times where he rubbed his boyfriend's stomach from when he said that he overate.

He didn't think too much of it because it didn't really change much... it only really started to matter after Christmas dinner. The family was eating at chatting at the table and... halfway through his second plate, there were a few pinging sounds as Gunwook felt his stomach, now bare to the world because he blew the buttons on them.

It's not like he completely avoided gaining weight going to university. Hanging out with Matthew meant they frequented different foods to try and Matthew loved showing him his favourite dishes, which quickly became Gunwook's. He hadn't become this tall eating moderately.

But, the shirt that had been replaced without him knowing... the buttons that blew from his own gluttony and how much he had fattened up. He saw the way Matthew's ears flushed next to him and felt a hand on his thigh, squeezing the mass.

Oh. He knew exactly what he did.

Gunwook's hand moved underneath his belly, lifting it up and letting it flop before he looked at his boyfriend who was avoiding his gaze. If that's how he wanted to play...

"Auntie, can I get another plate. I really am hungry."

-

They had arrived in Matthew's room two hours later. Gunwook wanted to make sure they were in the clear before he got up. The buttons on his shirt were only the first to go and he didn't feel like exposing himself that much to Matthew's family.

They had already seen how wide he was getting so they didn't need to see the tent that he was pitching at the thought of getting so fat he broke out of his clothes like he did tonight. That was reserved for the one who pressed him against the door the second it closed.

Matthew lifted his leg, his own chubby thigh raised to Gunwook's crotch as the two groaned and Matthew fondled Gunwook's belly.

"Didn't know you liked this as much as I do, Gunwookie..." He squeezed some of the fat on the younger man as he groaned.

"You've been doing this for some time... did you do the same thing to Hanbin when he came here?"

"Ngh, you should have seen how big he got. So bad at saying no to people... but you look even better."

"Not like I'm the only one..." Gunwook's large hand moved to Matthew's moobs and squeezed, eliciting a moan from the shorter man before he bit his lip, trying to be a little quieter. Gunwook's hands moved to Matthew's own gut as he shook it. "You're getting big too... this isn't just winter weight, hyung."

He felt a hand on his crotch, his erection shaking as Matthew fondled his fat pad. "Yeah, you're just fat now... and this break is far from over, Gunwookie... make sure to eat well." The hand slipped into his underwear and began to pleasure him, his body convulsing and jiggling with each pump of the neglected length.

Their fat bodies grinded against each other and it didn't take long for Gunwook to release into Matthew's hand before they moved to his bed, hearing the prominent creak, wondering how much longer before their combined weight potentially broke the bed.

-

Arriving back on campus, Hanbin patted Gunwook on the gut that was decorated with angry stretchmarks from the sheer amount he blew up. "I take it you enjoyed the trip?"

Matthew approached from the side, his belly bumping into Hanbin, squishing his somewhat lithe physique between the two bodies. "Yeah! They loved him... and they missed you, hyung~ You should visit again!"

Hanbin opened his mouth to protest but Hao snaked his arms around Hanbin's waist, finger tracing his side, "Yeah, Hanbinnie. I know you don't like making people upset." The smile in his voice made him melt a bit, making him wonder what his plans for the reading week up ahead would be.

[equallyshaw]

𝓼𝓮𝓮𝓲𝓷 𝓻𝓮𝓭 | 𝓶𝓪𝓽 𝓫𝓪𝓻𝔃𝓪𝓵 𝓪𝓾 ↠ when olivia met trevor - blurb! (takes place in October 2022- which seems like forever ago) ↠ au masterlist!

word count: 507 warnings: none!

olivia had been at this house party for the past hour, and she couldn't stand to be here for another second. she threw out her red solo cup, and headed towards the door after saying bye to her friend jessica. as she opened the front door, she saw a familiar face. her head cocked to the side just a bit. "do i know you?" she questioned to the blonde in front of her and then saw a really familiar face, behind him. "oh my god- hey!" she said to the dark haired boy who smiled in response. "livi!" jamie smiled moving around trevor, and hugging the redhead. "how are you!" she gushed, her pale freckled cheeks lightening up with a smile. "im good, how are you?" he questioned as they took a couple steps away from the door while trevor stood there waiting for jamie. "good good! i just opened up a shop here in newport actually and im almost done with school too." she smiled widely, and jamie congratulated her. "im so glad! i know how much you wanted to open a shop with your mom so im so happy for you, hows matt and the family?" he asked about her brother in law. "they're good! they are enjoying upstate new york too, but it isn't toronto that's for sure." she hummed and jamie nodded in understanding. trevor began to put the pieces together. matt martin & toronto but the relationship status between the two was hazy.

"oh! this is my good friend trevor, trevor this is olivia who i met in toronto a few years ago!" he said pulling olivia towards trevor and she smiled. "you're trevor zegras! i knew you looked familiar." she hummed extending her hand, which trevor took quickly. "what can i say? im a stud?" he joked and trevor rolled his eyes whilst olivia just laughed. "you think you're a comedian, huh?" she said through a playful glare. he grinned in response. "anywho! i was just on my way out, it was great seeing you and nice to meet you trev!" she said and jamie frowned, "no don't go!" he said and she sighed. "I've got school tomorrow besides this party blows." she said crossing her arms, and jamie smirked. "what?" olivia asked with a slight grin and a raised eyebrow. "what drysdale? spill it." she mused, and jamie looked at trevor before looking back at olivia. "take us with you." was all he said, and olivia rolled her eyes before turning towards the door and walking out but left the door open for them. "can we drive with you?" jamie asked catching up to the redhead, and olivia chuckled. "who said i drove?" she teased before walking over towards her driver door.

"can we get food?" was the very first thing out of trevor's mouth when she began to drive off, "like a child i swear to god." jamie laughed and that made olivia giggle. "alright child, where would you like to eat? you're choice!" she grinned, looking in the rearview at him. "im gonna regret knowing you right?" she teased before looking over at jamie who laughed. "OH yeah, most definitely." trevor said obnoxiously, and olivia could only help but giggle in response. "but were gonna be the best of friends." trevor added causing olivia to roll her eyes playfully.

something cute! please like if you enjoyed (:

and yes, trevor is referred to 'the child'

tags: @toasttt11 @cillianthinker

[gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot]

Ok, not a question, not a request, just a scene, that lives in my head rent-free. Feel free to do whatever you'd like to do with it.

Ghost leaning against a counter in the cafeteria, methodically stirring the coffee with a spoon. The rest are discussing something related to work, Ghost limits himself to only a couple of comments, not stopping stirring the coffee, but not starting to drink it either. At some point, Price turns away from the conversation, turns to Ghost and speaks.

"Ok, when are you going to stop this noise? I swear, I hear that spoon hitting your mug for one more time - Im gonna confiscate and drink that coffee myself." Ghost doesn't answer on that and just extends his hand with a mug towards the entrance to the cafeteria, where a few seconds later Riot appears. Almost bumping into the mug, she takes it from Ghost's hands and asks him.

"Sugar?"

"Just as you like."

"Cream?"

"You think, I'd forget, how you like your coffee?"

'... and, the temperature?"

"Been stirring it for last 5 minutes."

Silent, but so loud manifestation of love)

Awwwww I absolutely love it, I have to get this one out of my system))

Disclaimer: Much, much later in my fic (lol) and... kinda angst but sweet!! (you and @sofasoap are contagious! I love it!). Also, unedited and I haven't checked anything, so there :P

''Thank you'' She says, with a smile weaker than normal, and carefully takes a sip while he looks at her, searching for any sign of discomfort when the liquid touches her lips, and most importantly, the tender flesh of the scar. They don't touch, but they're standing so close that from some angles it's not clear where she ends and he starts.

The rest of the team watches them with amusement. Although they were not big on PDA, that they were in a relationship was already known to the core members of the Task Force 141.

''So... what did they say?'' Soap asked, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, but she keeps her eyes focused on the contents of her cup.

''There's nothing else they can do. Tissue is dead, some nerves too'' Riot shrugs, her voice calm as always, but a bit more emotionless than usual. ''If I have surgery for the fourth time I risk paralysis''

''Shit, I'm sorry'' Gaz advances to wrap her in a hug, which Soap joines eagerly, and the two Sergeants embrace her, tight. In normal circumstances she would protest, or laugh, or pretend to be offended, but in this moment she just lets them, trying to leave the cup on the counter before they make her drop it.

Price looks up towards the big windows of the cafeteria to observe the building of the Queen Elizabeth Hospital. He had had to fight her for the majority of the week to get her to go to a checkup in Birmingham about her scar, and now he was regretting it.

''It's alright, I was expecting it'' Riot manages to get rid of her two friends and retrieves her cup from the counter, but she's still looking down, not wanting to meet their eyes. Ghost stares intently at the crown of her head, standing right beside her, with one finger loosely hooked on one of her belt loops.

''You were in there almost an hour, it took that long to tell you that rubbish?'' Price grunts, and she shakes her head.

''No, that took fifteen minutes, in and out. I... took the stairs down''

To cry in peace, but she doesn't say that. She can't look up at the faces of those four idiots that she loves so much and that are her family, and allow them to see her falling apart. Again.

''C'mere, kid'' Price grabs her jacket and drags her close enough to engulf her with his enormous arms. ''You need anything, just tell me''

''Pizza?'' Riot asks, hopeful, and Price barks a laugh, nodding.

''Pizza it is''

Gaz and Soap cheer in agreement, finishing their own beverages while they collect their jackets, and the Captain goes to pay. Ghost stays right beside Riot, and she turns to face him, looking up.

''I'm fine'' When he looks down at her she takes the opportunity to step closer and her fingers touch his ever so slightly. ''It was worth it''

''What was worth it?'' Ghost asks, a bit lost, specially when she smiles. It had been months since she had discarded using the mask except during missions or when with big crowds, but seeing her smile still sent a chill down his spine, every time.

''This'' Riot makes a vague gesture towards her face, and her other hand slides in his, feeling his fingers lacing with hers. ''For what I have now. For you. Worth it''

Ghost nods slowly, still looking down at her, and then checks for a moment that the other three are not looking before leaning in and bumping lightly his forehead against hers, staying like that for a couple of breaths.

''Worth it'' He murmurs, and she nods, standing on her tip toes to press her forehead against his, still smiling.

''Worth it''

[that-one-random-writer]

Chasing you Chapter 6 {Complete}

Summary: Jake retires from the military honorably. He steps into a new roll, ready to settle down in his hometown of Texas. He is placed on your shift. Your current relationship is stable until the dust settles, revealing cracks in the foundation.

Warnings: Cursing, violence, police experiences based on truth, accurate on most accounts of law enforcement, it might get gory at times. Be aware of blood, drugs, and all things law enforcement. Smut eventually. A/N may have my true experience attached if you're interested. All real names redacted.

Chapter 1. Next Chapter. Masterlist

Jake sat on the couch of the back patio, grabbing a toothpick from the pack on the table.

You sat in the chair across from him. "Why did you let me stay over?"

Jake sat back, situating his body. The air was still warm enough that his skin didn't feel too chilled in the growing darkness of the night. "I asked my mom about you when I got back home." He paused, looking at the back pasture that had his horses galloping around. "Our parents have been friends for a while. She said I could trust your family, so I figured that would extend to you."

You looked back at the horses playing. "Yeah, Nessie started his visits a few years after high school when I moved out. Mama got pretty close with Mrs. Ophelia for a while. Recently, she's been a little distant, though. Mama was worried she did something wrong."

Seresin looked down to his hands. He rubbed his palms together. "No, your mom didn't do anything. Mom has been going through a hard time. She hasn't even been talking to me or my sisters."

"Bless her heart. I am not going to ask for details. Im assuming your dads mess has something to do with it. Is she okay? Can I do anything?" You asked kindly.

"She will be. She's a tough woman. There's nothing I can think of." Seresin looked back out to the pasture.

"I'm gonna get her a gift basket together from the family." You pulled out your phone and wrote it on your to-dos. "You know ophelia talked about you a lot with my mom. I never got your name, though. Small world that we work together now."

"What all did she say?" His chest raised up with pride. Knowing ophelia, it would be all good accomplishments acknowledged.

"She said you were top of your class at the naval aviation academy, and you were awarded for your heroism against the enemy, and you had an award for Afghanistan combat." You smiled remembering how proud ophelia was telling your mom over a sweet tea front porch meet up the morning before a family dinner a few months back.

"Stop..." Seresin's signature smirk grew into his cheeks. He leaned his arm back behind his head. His toned body on full display. "Well, you know I did a few things." He failed miserably at being humble.

A laugh chimed from your lips. "Yeah, I bet you did."

The sun had gone down, and the stars peeked out with only the full moon casting dim light. Colder air blowing in.

Your phone rang. "Hey honey."

James was on the other end. "Hey, where are you? I haven't seen you all day." You cringed remember the guilt that was sitting in your chest earlier. Conversation was so easy with Seresin that it made you forget the world around you.

"Sorry, honey. I went to a friend's house to sleep, so I wouldn't bother you playing your game." You hated keeping details. It was the worst, but this called for it. The fight was not going to be here over the phone. The guilt set in further as you looked back at Jake, flipping the toothpick in his mouth so nonchalant and hot... no handsome... no, like a nice-looking friend. Your brain did flips, trying to rail itself back on track. "I'll be home soon. I love you, bye. "

James screamed at his TV again. As he clicked the end call. You squeezed your eyes shut, not wanting to face what was your reality at home. No more screaming at the TV and certainly no screaming at you. Fear seeping in realizing what you had done in your desperation to sleep.

"I'll take you back. Just let me ask, why are you with this guy? Dont give me the practicality crap." Jake heard the yelling, and seeing the reaction on your face was not pleasant.

"H-He stayed with me through cancer. He was at every treatment. He helped me live when I was really sick." You just threw it out there. You couldn't hold it in. The pain of hearing Jame's voice with his selfishness of the gaming while you slept pushed you into an emotional war. You wanted things to be good with him. They just weren't. You could see it. You knew everyone could see it. "He was such a good man. I don't know what happened. If he can stay with me through cancer, then I can stay through this rough patch. He will get better. I just have to give him time."

Seresin leaned up. He grabbed the toothpick from his mouth and flicked it into the grass. "Fair enough. I hope he figures it out soon for your sake."

The truck pulled up next to your car. "Thank you. Really, I mean it."

"You're welcome. You can stay anytime and as long you'd like. I really mean that." You opened the door with a nod of acknowledgment.

Your mind fought your body to hug him. You pressed on, walking to your car where you were safe from urges. His truck left.

You sat thinking for a moment. "He's just a good friend." You willingly convinced yourself. You stopped in the restaurant and grabbed dinner.

You got home sitting on the couch and set up dinner. "Hey honey. You go back to Kennedys house?" He knew Kennedy, and he knew that there was nothing to worry about.

"No, I was at a family friend's house. He is on shift with me and Ken now." You spoke. You never lied no matter how much shit you would get.

"He? Which family friend?" James didn't hide anger and assumptions well.

"Jake seresin, ophelia's son." You answered.

"The military guy came home?" He questioned.

"Yeah. He is Ken's new trainee." You prayed using Ken's name to vouch would lighten the blow.

"Why didn't you stay at Ken's?" He began interrogating.

"Kennedy wasn't going to be home, and his mom was there with her friend at the pool." You defended.

"Then why didn't you just stay here?" His voice began to raise.

"Because James," you matched his volume. Throwing the stupid salad on the ground. Venom spewed off him name. "You wouldn't turn the TV down, I had to roll Greg's dead body over on the pavement my knees were covered with parts of his brain, not that you fucking cared to ask, and then I come home finally get to sleep and you're screaming about headshots to the damn TV."

"I wasn't home to ask. How was I supposed to know that? Then you just come home from whoring around with this Jake guy and I'm just supposed to be cool with it because I was playing a game to relax from my hard night. I had four people call in sick. I had to run four extra positions... Not that you fucking cared to ask either." James screamed.

"I wasn't whoring around. I went there slept, ate and came home. I can't fucking believe you'd think I would do that to you."

"Is he gay?" James asked abruptly.

Your teeth clamped together. "What?" Your knuckles turned white against your sides.

"You heard me! Does he like a dick in his ass? Does he bat for Kennedy's team?"

"I don't know. I didn't ask." You held your arms out.

"Then I don't want you over there." James fumed. "When you're painting each others toe nails, talking about your door ringer celebrity men, doing whatever shit you do with ken. Then you can go, but until that happens, it's not okay."

"You're fucking ridiculous, and rude." You yelled and walked out. You grabbed your phone calling Ken. Tears spilled. "Ken, I need drinks are you busy."

Kennedy's deep voice came through the speaker. "Marilyn... I'm at home you can come over. What's wrong?"

You got in the car and drove the few miles to his house. "I fucked up."

"You didn't..." He trailed. "Did you sleep with Seresin?"

Your scoff was very dramatic. "No. I just went over there and slept. James is accusing me of it though, he basically made a fucking rule I cant go over there."

"Rules were meant to broken Mar. You know I can ask if we can go over to Seresin's I'm sure he would have us over for drinks."

"No, he's right. I don't need to go over there. He's a single man, and I am a taken woman. I need to respect him. I am pissed he put a rule down, but I understand why." You sighed.

"Suit yourself. I mean I think he's a great guy. He doesn't seem like the type to break that boundary. Not from how he was talking the last few shifts."

"Did he say anything about me with james?" You parked your car ending the call walking up to the door opening it.

"Come in..." Kennedy laughed at his sarcasm. "He said some things, but I'm not a snitch."

"Damn it, ken! Why did you let me go over there?" You held your arms up.

"No, I only suggested it because I couldn't have you over, you needed sleep, and I trusted that he wouldn't do anything. He didn't say anything intimate or misogynistically gross. Just that it was a shame you were in a relationship."

You groaned throwing a pillow at him sitting down on the couch. "Liam Kennedy!"

"Okay chill. I got it, Seresin is now on my shit list." Kennedy chuckled.

"Not funny." You threw another pillow. Throwing your hands in your face to cover the embarrassment.

"So now what, your man's all jealous of Seresin?" He sat up on the couch.

"Yeah, I guess so. Maybe this is a good thing. Maybe now he will try harder." You looked over at him through your fingers.

"Don't go playing with fire, Marilyn. You know that's what got you killed with our scandal." He joked about the conspiracy of Marilyn Monroe's murder by the government after the Kennedy affair.

"I'm not going to play with fire. I'm just playing the card you so graciously handed me." You rolled your eyes.

Kennedy sighed. "He is really hot, though. Those uniform pants..." He trailed, widening his eyes at the thought of Seresin's tight ass. Literal and figurative.

"Kennedy I'm not doing this..." you trailed.

"It was fine when it was that guy on A shift." He defended.

"He didn't cause an argument at home." You tensed.

"I'm just saying the man is ripped. I can tell from his arms. The sleeves look like they are holding on by a thread." He kept prodding for information.

"Oh he is." Your mouth was faster then your brain.

"I fucking knew it, you sly bitch. What happened, tell me everything..." He bit his lip sitting back knowing he had you cornered.

A/N: No one knows about Kennedy like that except your boyfriend and family. This is for the story's sake only, nothing further involving the job.

[erial-c]

hmm, maybe just some things that youre familiar with?? /nm

like,, stuff from your region/child hood, what you grew up with, etc

again, this is all /nf :)

these r some of the ones i cld think of frm the top of my head !!

- i grew up in the province before we moved to manila so i was taught a shitload of superstitions (i.e. sweeping floors / cutting nails at night is bad luck, "pagpag" or shaking off bad spirits after attending funerals so they don't follow you home) a lot of them i still do subconsciously 😭

- filipinos celebrate christmas super early , once september hits the christmas decor is up and the music is on full blast

- maybe a bit of a stereotype but ? chismosa (gossiper) culture is prevalent here , kinda the main way you're gonna learn abt people is through gossip (might be amplified since i'm in high school 🤞)

- family ties r important !! we always have gatherings with extended family at least once a year to go to the beach and stuff

- additionally, kinda general to asian culture probably but respect for elders is especially shown here, with the action of pagmamano (bowing, taking their hand and lowering your head to meet their hand) as a sign of respect

- a lot of filipinos are super conservative as a result of sticking to tradition + religion , very telling by the fact that divorce/abortion/same sex marriage isn't recognized/legal here 🤞

these r pretty general things abt filipino culture since i'm frm metro manila and im the filipino equivalent of an unseasoned white kid 😭 hope this answers ur question !!!

[jangmo-othewarrior]

DMC Questions Anon here!

Before you read this next question:

I was informed that it would be a good idea for my questions to be answered with a specific tag so if people wish to block it they could. Please tag your answers to any question I send you with "dmc questions anon" and I think that should work.

If you wish to be taken off the list, ask. If somebody wishes to be placed on the list, ask. If your anon asks are off and you wish to participate, just make a post answering the question you see going around.

Remember you do not have to answer every question, so please don't feel pressured to do so.

Please also remember to take as long as you need! Do not rush yourself, this is supposed to be a fun activity and I don't want anyone to feel stressed out by trying to rush to answer questions.

Now onto the actual question:

How would you rank the 5 games in the Devil May Cry series? (By story)

Separately, if you want, how would you rank extended material? (The DMC1 Novel, The DMC3 Mangas, The Anime, The DMC2 Novel, Deadly Fortune, Before the Nightmare, and Visions of V, all of which can be found (along with other stuff) here: https://originaldmc.github.io/DivinityStatue/Downloads.html)

If you wish, how would you rank all of it together in one big list?

DMC QUESTIONS ANON!! :D

Okay, I'm gonna do everything together, but i will preface this by saying i have a lot more exposure to some things than others, thus I will have varying degrees of 'much to say'.

DMC 5

I'm definitely biased for this (it's the one that got me into the franchise) but I digress.

FAMILY THEMES BABI MY FAVORITE THING

I just adore the main cast so much u do not understand. So much hype shit happens with em too, it's great. The characters are simultaneously over the top but also very real? Like Dante is the wacky woo-hoo pizza man but also horribly in control of his emotions and how to express them.

The Vergil reveal was so obvious but I dont care. It's good. The depths given to his character through V and Urizen are VERY good.

And NERO- lord everyone in this family has trauma

Also SDT was introduced in this game I'm sorry but no piece of DMC media will be able to top this because of it.

2. DMC 3

is anyone surprised

I love the bois so much, with their stupid catchphrases and horrible family dynamics. it's so weird looking at them like

I was nighteen once. I wasn't like them but I was nighteen.

Also the THEMES once again center around family, especially with the addition of Lady and Arkum. I also love this cast SO MUCH

except arkum fuck arkum all the homies hate arkum

Literally the only reason this is lower than DMC 5 is because no Nero, Trish or Nico. That's it.

3. Visions of V

i haven't talked about him much but I would also gently hold V (and by extension Vergil)

Really I just love this manga because of how much is shown and revealed through it. Everything is really visceral and hits so hard.

Literally everything in this manga stabs u in the feels especially the final shit GOOD LORD

but it really is tied with #4 because it can't really stand by itself? It needs DMC 5 to be whole, in a way.

4. DMC 4

I really wanted to put this above VoV but my DMC 5 bias shown through in the end IM SORRY

also yeah Sanctus as a villian is dogshit, i agree

and some characters REALLY needed more screen time (see: Credo, Angus, KYRIE) but also this game has the Shakespeare scene so....

also I just love Nero and his teen angst can u blame me

But GOD did Kyrie need more screentime

5. Before the Nightmare

Wow the DMC 5 bias strikes again, huh.

IDK man I just love the prequel shit. Like, Nico and Nero meeting is so fucking funny

Also Lucia makes an appearance for the first time since DMC 2 so thats cool

It also expanded the lore on how devil arms work through Balrog which I am SO thankful for.

Also Roc Goldstein exists now and everyone should know about one of the ONLY GOOD DADS in DMC history

Really the only other one I give my full respect to is Sparda, and he died when his kids were like, six. (Dante and Vergil r getting there tho, give em time.)

6. The Anime

Look Patty is the only reason this is so high I love her and if u look at my previous posts u can tell I love her and Dante's father daughter relationship u can pry it out of my cold dead hands

Also the lore with Sparda's apprentices, demon smoners being a thing, and the introduction to Morrison is very nice.

But also Lady was WAY off the mark almost the entire time, and the plot with Patty only really took center stage towards the end so :(

ALSO THEY DIDNT EVEN SHOW DEVIL TRIGGER IN FULL I WILL NEVER FORGIVE CAPCOM FOR THIS INJUSTICE

capcom if u put Patty in more shit I will forgive you (maybe)

7. DMC 1 novel

This novel is weird because it was written before almost all of the other shit so Canon often either ignored it or bent over backwards to avoid it until the DMC 5 era

But I like it. All of the new characters r very good and I love them all.

Grues death STILL hits me in the feels so hard.

Dante has lost so many parental figures ya'll

One of the only reasons it's so low is because of Gilver, the fuck

He made NO fucking sense for the longest time until the timeline rewrite and the retcon that he's a Vergil clone.

That fits his character so much more bur looking at him as Vergil makes no fucking sense. Everything about his character contradicts what we know about Vergil, even back with only DMC 3 as a reference.

Despite those issues, i am very happy we are seeing some rep for this book in the games and other media. U do not understand the screech I let out when Grue's daughters were shown years later.

8. DMC 1

is this sacrilegious?

Yeah the gameplay is good and it was a hallmark of its time but also Dante is as stale as cardboard here I'm sorry

Like his plot is the most uniform and overdone revenge plot I have ever seen and his relationship with Trish....

it's funky in this game, let me tell u. Thank whatever higher power exists that they leaned more towards siblings in later installments because I would be pulling my hair out otherwise.

But the quips r also really good and all of the Nelo Angelo stuff is my favorite part of the plot, so I guess that evens out?

This game was a very good launching point for the rest of the series except u know what

Also fuck mundus all the homies hate mundus he sucks

9. Deadly Fortune

Uhhh yeah it's just.... DMC 4 again with some things changed?

Honestly the reason this is so low is because of my preferred way of absorbing story is through video games than manga.

It's okay. Not trash or anything. It's just alright

10. DMC 3 Mangas

They're ... fine? I guess.

Like the first meeting between the twins in YEARS is very good, but also the manga is unfinished and all...

So I'll just leave it at that.

11. DMC 2 Novel

Gonna be honest I've never read this one.

So I'm giving it the benefit of the doubt

12. DMC 2

Yeah remember when I said Dante was cardboard in DMC 1? Yeah now he's silent, emotionless cardboard.

the villian is bad, the location is okay i guess, really the only saving grace for this games story is the concepts it introduces

Demon civil wars? Artificial demons created by people? Those are cool concepts! So cool that one was reused in a much better game, but I digress.

Honestly the story is probably one of the least sacrilege parts of DMC 2, and it still isn't the worst piece of DMC media based on story. That goes to our surprise contender....

13. DMC: Devil May Cry

DMC questions anon did NOT ask for this, but I'm putting it here so that everyone understands that this games story and characters are SO BAD that I'm putting UNDERNEATH DMC 2

But what can I say that hasn't been already stated?

Vergil is so far out of character he's basically an OC and his turn around at the end makes no fucking sense

Donte is an asshole who has functionally abandoned what made Dante likeable in ANY GAME

The plot itself is the most rehashed 'the government is evil and we must resist it' plot EVER

Even the new shit they added for this game doesn't even fucking work well.

Having demons that look like angels be the antagonists is much more interesting that just having angels and having them do NOTHING

Kat is literally the only thing that I don't have a super negative opinion on because she was NEW and I hadn't watched them fuck up a character I love. They just made a mediocre one at best

Needless to say, I utterly despise the plot of this game with my entire being.

Thank you for the question, DMC Questions Anon! I'm sorry I went a bit off script, but I hope it was at least entertaining.

[forestryfae]

man it is SO nice to find a solution to a really shit problem only for 50 other problems to happen

i am completely alone with zero support in a house i hate, doing as much housework as possible so it can be manageable both in day to day life and so its not hard to just leave when i move, and i still am not getting any help getting rid of the stuff.

i have almost no money and i have to pay to take the train to buy food or neccessities and i was dumb enough to not send a letter sooner so i dont know if ill get my money until after christmas or not, i havent bought more than one christmas gift either cus im fucking broke, and i dont feel anywhere in my body that i want to spend time making something for anyone. my brother still isnt done paying me my money back and literally hasnt talked to me since last time he asked for money, my dad hasnt fucking talked to me in ages and the one time he called in summer it was out of boredom to ask when i was gonna visit them, none of my extended relatives talk to me at all so what the fuck is the point there, and my mom is just. a fucking bitch.

i had her removed as a legal guardian, not even on purpose initially but because folkenemnda or whoever sent her a letter before i was able to have a meeting, so she ofc got fucking offended and now has decided sve cant be involved in anything. she cant call electricians, she cant help fix the house, its "too difficult" for her to have to talk to me or my new legal guardian instead of just buying stuff right away, and she told ME to get a new phone service provider. i had to fix that myself. on top of her being, once again, a useless bitch. dont touch my stuff i say, its fucking embarrassing that you have dirty laundry she implies while moving all my furniture around and doing shit to my kitchen while refusing to acknowledge its my house but still treating it like her own, and not fixing the internet again after they unplugged it.

so i have no access to internet besides my last 150 mb of phone data unless i call some guy to fix it, but they wont be here until next year most likely so its pretty much pointless, and if i buy phone data i have to pay. so if i cant get it fixed ill be literally alone for two weeks straight with no people at all around me and noone i can talk to on the internet. except for fucking. christmas. idk about new years eve. and i dont even fucking like my family, i dont even want to spend time with them, they treat me like shit.

the ac doesnt work since mom got the electricians to look at everything but never actually hired anyone to fix shit and now is completely uncooperative. and after they checked the fireplace in that control like two years ago im not allowed to use it, and mom never actually got that fixed either even though shes been in charge of absolutely everything since forever.

plus both heaters downstairs are set to 27c or max and it still is only like 17 or 19 or so, i have an entire room in the house i straight up cant use cus theres no power and no light and 17c in there and its full of stuff i asked mom to take to the thrift store for me 6 months ago. also i cant leave either heater on if im boiling water or washing dishes cus that overloads the entire fucking thing.

and its just like so much bullshit all at once and ive been spacing out for like 2 hours while writing this cus i get so frustrated and upset and angry and sad. its not fucking fair that my parents literally dont care about me, yet im expected to be fucking sociable and call and visit them and reach out. they didnt reach out to me or support me at all when i was a kid, or a teenager, or an adult, why the fuck would i want to deal with them. but if i dont go to visit them on christmas or i point out that hey. youre not really being fair or nice to me at all, hell breaks loose cus i should be more than happy with the crumbs they give me, as if theyre the best people in the world for fucking. calling once every six months or letting me celebrate a holiday with them.

like. im stuck here for 2 weeks, im broke as shit, no connection to the outside world once i use all my data, i very much am still mentally ill even if im better than before i went inpatient. but once i go back ill have to go back to work and i dont have a psychiatrist to talk to and im not on any meds i think i might need and i havent been tested for anything yet, i havent been had driving practice yet, i can barely talk to my support contact, i need a lot more help than i am being given, im not getting the help i ask for when i do ask for it, and thats on top of shit parents and a shit house and two cats i love but am not sure i can keep given the whole thing where im gone for months at a time. and i just. how the fuck am i supposed to be able to keep a job or ever move out or make friends properly or keep a new apartment or house or be mentally stable. its so much bullshit all at once wtf

[alba8688]

Our secret

Chapter 6

Word count:4420

Warnings!!!! 18+ ,p n v ,hand job .

As soon as I arrive home I went into the shower I wanted to be clean and smelling good for Dani this was the first time we were gonna be alone after months ,I mean I did shower before but not like everyday but now since I met Dani I shower every freaking day and put so much cologne on and I do it just for her .

I wonder if she noticed the new cologne I had gotten just for her ?

Uncle Wayne will make fun of me and ask me who was the lucky girl who got me to shower every day. It was so hilarious to him but not to me he better not mention that to Dani whenever she meets him.

Will she ever meet him?

When I got out of the shower I

I wrapped the towel around my waist. I went to my room and to my closet to decide what to wear for tonight. I didn't like anything. I never cared what I wore. I never even went on a date with a girl well if a one night stand counts but other than that never .

What the fuck do I wear ?

Was this a date ?

I was nervous as fuck .

What if it wasn’t a date ?She did say she wanted to talk alone in her apartment, just her and I ..

What could that mean ?I asked myself

That she wanted to talk without being caught ..I answer my own question .

Everything was driving me crazy .. I really need advice from a girl. I need a girl best friend. Well, I did have one but It didn't end up good.

But story for another time .

Ok ,ok Eddie chill everything is fine .We are just gonna talk, nothing else .

I decided to go with black jeans not ripped with a black Led Zeppelin shirt and my usual leather jacket and jean vest .

I sprayed some cologne on me that uncle Wayne had given me for Christmas. I never really used it, never had any occasion for it. I just started using it when I met Dani.I looked at the time and it was barely 7:00 .

Damn It's still too early ,I sat down in my bed putting the address on my phone's GPS. Her apartment was by Family video apparently new apts/lofts that were built a year ago .

I always pass by them on my way home from School .

I grabbed my keys and decided to stop at the store to buy Dani some flowers then headed back home . When I saw that it was 7:50pm I checked that I had everything in my pocket and my wallet .I glanced at the box of condoms on my side table and was undecided if I should put one on my wallet but like I said we are just talking and that's all .

So I hesitated looking at the box of condoms then at my wallet but decided against it .

I walked out of my room then I heard some slight knocking on the door barely hearable .

Fuck I wonder who it is ?And they decided to come when I'm about to leave .

I open the door to see Chrissy standing on the front doorstep .

"Chrissy ?"

"Eddie can we talk ?" Chrissy what fuck were you doing here? I thought we were done with that stupid deal we had. That's what I wanted to tell her but I didn't have the heart .

"Chrissy, this is a bad time. I'm about to head out ,can we leave this for another time ?" I told her in the most polite way I really wanted to leave and be with Dani already .

I don't know why I agreed with Chrissy on this fake relationship. It's not like I still like her. Part of me probably did it to make Dani jealous and it works now. I'm going to her house to talk about us. I think maybe I don't know, hopefully it was about us .

"I just want to tell you something fast ." She says softly, getting me out of my thoughts .

Jesus fucking Christ Chrissy !!I said in my head forgetting she was standing in front of me .

Dani does this shit to me thinking about her makes me forget about everything else. I'm 💯 percent sure she put some kind of spell on me cause I have never been this idiotic for a girl .

"Yeah sure what is it ?"I say closing the door behind me and stepping into the small porch

"I know we agreed this was only gonna be for two weeks but I was wondering if we could extend it to another week ?"

"Jesus Christ Chrissy I don't know about that ,I-im actually going to go meet the girl I like, remember I told you about her ." I scratch the back of my neck while telling her

"Oh ok,and yes I do ,all I'm asking for is one week please Eddie ." Chrissy ask in the most sweetest way and you know me can't say no

"Ok just one week Chrissy and I'm sorry I have to go ." I get the keys out of my jacket and head to my van.leaving Chrissy standing on my front porch.

I got in my van and watch chrissy walk towards her car and drive away .On my way to Dani's I was practicing what to say to her when I saw her but everything sounded so stupid .and I look stupid talking to myself and smiling at nothing .if people thought I was weird now they had something to talk about .

I arrived at Dani's apartment just in time, well 8:10 pm. The nerves were killing me already. My hands started to get sweaty. I felt like I was inside a sauna ,maybe it was just me or probably I was having a panic attack.I took my seat belt off and reached over the roses I had gotten for Dani.

I decided to park the farthest away from her apartment building in case someone recognizes my van .We wouldn't want no one recognizing my van because we all know that everyone knows my van.

I stayed inside for a while . I wanted to smoke a joint to relax but I also wanted to be in my 5 senses while talking to her. Maybe just one won't kill me, maybe it won't make me act stupid ,maybe it is not a good idea she didn't know I did that I would rather keep it like that .

A black BMW parked next to me and right away I recognized the car as Dani's . A big stupid smile grew on my face .

Why was I smiling like an idiot ?

Jesus Christ I hated this part of me. It made me seem weak. She made me weak .

Jesus Christ !!

But wait a minute ,why would she park all the way over here if her building was up ahead .

She lowered down the window and smiled at me. She looks beautiful like always. I don't know why but I blushed so hard when she smiled at me I tried to keep my cool .In reality I was dying from the inside .

She put the window up again and turned her car off and got down .

I turned off my van and got down trying my best not to be nervous but somehow nothing would help now even seeing Dani in that skirt I got so used to seeing her with her normal school clothes .

Right now there's different images running through my perverted brain of mine of the things I would do to her .

My fucking dick was betraying me right now .I felt so embarrassed of myself I never got like these for a girl and just by looking at her it Gets me hard .

Jesus Christ, relax your strong Eddie .

I fixed my boner up my waistline and fixed my pants before following Dani to her apartment .

"Eddie you coming?" She ask

"Eddie ?"

"Isn't that your name ?" She ask teasingly

"Yeah but I was so used to Edward ."

" Would you rather me call you Edward ?" She ask

"I mean I don't know ." I scratch the back of my head nervously I was blushing like an idiot

"We'll come on ." Dani says and I follow her like a duck following the mom.

I watched her walk in front of me. I don't know if she was doing it on purpose but she was moving her hips in the sexiest way and that wasn't helping me either with the big boner I had at the moment and especially walking with it .

"Can you help me with these?" She asks handing me two groceries bags

I grab them and follow her to her apartment and to my surprise her apartment is upstairs now I have to watch her walk upstairs with that tiny skirt she is wearing.

While going up the stairs I kept my face down not trying to look up her skirt. I'm trying to be respectful as possible .I'm a gentleman, I keep telling myself .

We stop at the first door to our right. She takes her keys out and opens the door to her apartment .

She walks in first and I follow her. She has a pretty cozy apartment.

As you walk-in you walk into the kitchen and the living room. I raised my brow when I saw the Christmas tree already up and it's the last week of October .

"Christmas tree?" I ask her

"Yeah, that makes me happy ." She smiles

I close the door behind me then go set the bags down in her counter

"Hey there ." She says reclining in the counter

"Hey ,I-I've been thinking about you a lot lately ." I tell her

"You have ?" She smiles .

"Yup."i saying popping the P

"Do you want something to drink ?" She ask grabbing a beer from the fridge

"You ,Miss.Henderson is offering me a beer?" I say playfully

"Just grab it Munson ." She says handing me the beer .

"So we are back to last names ?" I tease her

"Oh shut up ." She laughs.Her laugh Jesus Christ I love her laugh.

I watch her go sit on the sofa and take a sip of her beer. She turns to look at me and signals for me to go sit next to her .

Like an idiot I go following her instructions .

I sat down next to her slouching back on the couch .

"Eddie?"

"Yeah ."

"How does it feel when we are together?" She ask

It feels fucking amazing i feel like the happiest man in the world ive never felt like these for anyone that's what I wanted to say but I didn't because I was afraid to scare her away .

"Good, it feels right ." I reply

She looks at me and gives me a weak smile and opens her mouth but then closes it again.

She bites her bottom lip and reclines back into the sofa putting her hands over her face ,she takes her beanie off and throws it on the coffee table. She seemed frustrated, like something was bothering her. I wanted to ask her what was wrong.

She takes her hands from her face and turns to look at me .

"I want to be with you ,I want to hang out at The hideout ,introduce you to my friends ,share a milkshake in a diner like everyone else ,b-but I don't know if w-we could ever Do that !!" She tells me I felt a smile growing in my face and she was right we couldn't do that and it made me feel like shit cause I wanted to show her off to everyone.

I sit up straight and grab both of her hands in mine and look at her.

"Eddie, when I'm With you I don't care about anyone else ." She chuckles

What was she trying to tell me? Did she want this? Was she gonna risk her job to be with me?

"So are you talking yourself into this or out of it ?" I can't believe I repeated myself I was nervous

"Umm yes umm no umm maybe !!." She says

"So what does it mean ?" I ask

She leans closer to me, putting her hand on my chest.

"Look We are here now and it is just the two of us and it feels good so let's not care together ." She says before pressing her lips on mine

She pulls away and rests her forehead on mine.

"This is so wrong but it feels so right ." She whispers and presses her lips back on mine again but this time the kiss was more hungry. Her hands wrapped around my neck and my hands wrapped around her waist and she pushes me back to the sofa and places her knees on both sides of my thighs .

She was on top of me straddling me ,shit !and I was getting hard. I was afraid she was gonna feel it .

She pulls away from the kiss and stands up adjusting her skirt and walks towards the kitchen counter .

"Are you hungry ?" Is she fucking serious!!! she just fucking stood up like nothing happen and ask me if I was hungry .No fucking shit she is not leaving me like this after she was the one that started .

I don't reply back but I walk towards her while she is getting the food out of the plastic bag .

"Dani ." I said in a low voice she immediately turned around and I picked her up from the waist and carried her to her room. I was guessing it was the room because it was the only room in the apartment .

Our lips crashed again hungrily I grabbed her by her ass so she wouldn't fall off .

"Where's the bed ?" I ask while still

Kissing her.

She signals me with her hand and I lay her down slowly and I crawl on top of her pressing my lips back onto hers .

Her hands go down to my pants fighting to unbuckled them so I help her by taking them off and sending them flying somewhere in her room .

The chains on my jeans crashed when it hit the ground .

I was left with my boxers and my shirt and jacket.

I took off my jacket and jean vest and threw it in the ground as well .

Dani pulls the hem of my shirt and I pick up my arms for her to take my shirt off leaving me in my boxers .

I watch her undress in the sexiest way ever or maybe it was just me that I saw everything she did sexy. She has some kind of spell on me .

She pulls me down to her by my neck and kisses my lips, slipping her tongue into my mouth. Her lips taste too sweet and she smells like vanilla .

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

I want to stay in this moment forever .

Right here I forgot she was my teacher and I was her student and I didn't care about anyone or anything .

This was perfect .

She wrapped her legs around my hips and slid them down my waist bringing my boxers down .

My erection popped out ,her legs went back to my hips and she arched her hips up making me enter her in a slow agonizing pace, feeling how wet she already was for me .

She caught me by surprise and a moan escaped my mouth. I looked down to her and she had a big smile on her face .I leaned down to kiss her lips while i thrusted slowly in and out .

This time wasn't like the last time we had sex it was different. It wasn't rough. I wanted to be gentle with her and enjoy every part of her treating her like she would break if I went any harder .

Her lips never left mine, not even to catch our breaths. I could have died right now and I would die happy with no care in the world.

There was something about Dani that drove me out of my mind .

"Eddie." She said breathlessly

"Yes." I looked down at her; it was the perfect view I could have asked for .

She gave me a mischievous grin and flip me around with her being on top of me and sliding down my Erection. She knew exactly what she was doin to me and I didn't care I was all hers and only hers .

“Jesus Christ fucking ninja move !!” I gasped, crashing my lips on hers. She was my Goddess.

She pulled away and positioned herself then placed her hand on my chest and started moving slowly back and forth. Her eyes rolled back to the back of her head. She bit her lip to try to contain the moans she was holding in.

But I wanted to hear her. I wanted to know how good I made her feel .I wanted the world to hear her .

I placed my hands on her hips guiding her up and down my erection. I could feel how wet she was and it was driving me crazy. I could cum any minute now of how Good she felt around me.

"You're so beautiful ." I groaned

"You're my pretty boy ." She smiles and leans down to kiss my lips .

Moans and cries fell from her lips as I helped her move up and down .

"I'm almost there." She said through heavy breathing

I could feel her walls tightening around me making my cock twitch inside of her.

She was so fucking tight she was perfect so damn perfect it’s like she was made for me ,just for me and no one else .

My lips went to her neck attacking with kisses then kissing her weak spot then back to her lips, our lips attached together moaning into each other's mouth while we both came undone.

I wasn't trying to overreact but this was the best orgasm I had ever had and best sex ever .

"Shit!!" I immediately freaked out after the moment of bliss was gone .

"What ?" She ask confused

"I came inside of you ?" I say panicked eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights .

She giggles while still on top of me and leans down to kiss my lips .

"Pretty, pretty boy ." She says in my lips still giggling

She stands up slowly from my softening cock leaving me empty without her .

"What's so funny ?" I ask, still confused ,why she giggle when I said I came inside of her ?

"I'm wearing a contraceptive implant on my arm." She says pointing to her right arm

What the fuck does that mean ?

"A contra What?" I ask standing up and following her to her bathroom bare naked.

I watch her as she prepares the bath, checking the water .

"It's a small plastic thing that prevents me from getting pregnant ." She says getting in the tub

"Oh"I said, "That's something new.I stood there standing looking at Dani get in the tub. She was beautiful as she was carved by the Gods themselves.

"Are you coming in ?Or are you gonna keep on gawking ?"she says looking at me and signaling to get in .

She wasn't gonna tell me twice I got in sitting on the back of her with my legs open so she could sit in between me. She leaned her head back to my chest looking up at me and smiling .

"Dani ." I said almost as a whisper

"Yes ." She responded while laying on my chest with her eyes clothes

"Would you be my girlfriend ?" My heart started beating faster in My chest. I think she could feel how hard it was beating .

She opens her eyes and turns her head slightly to look back at me and smile .

"Yes Eddie ."

"Yes?" I asked her again, still unsure of her answer. I wanted to double check just to make sure I wasn’t hearing things .

"Yes Eddie, I'll be your girlfriend." She giggles and kisses me .After out bath we laid down in bed again talking about us and how it was going to be hard not to be able to be together in public and then from there we had sex again and again

Never getting tired of each other .

I don't know how many times we made love last night but I didn't care my dick never failed me, it was always ready for her .Until we fell asleep in each other's arms .In the middle of the night we were rudely awakened by a cell phone ringing.

I answered it thinking it was mine .

"Hello." I said groggily

"Dani?" I male voice says

Shit!!I answer Dani's phone shit!!! What should I do?But wait, it's a guy ..I think to myself ..what if it’s a lost boyfriend or worse husband !!!

I put the phone on mute and tried my best not to panic.I called Dani’s name softly not to scare her. I tried several times but she wouldn’t wake up. I move her gently and try to wake her up. I could still hear the male calling out Dani's name. He sounded drunk .

"Sweetheart there's someone for you on the phone ." I said softly

She opens her eyes slightly and smiles at me and places a kiss on my lips then I hand her her phone .

"Hello ." She answered sleepily taking the phone off of mute

"Liam?" She says sitting up in bed with a shocked face

Who the fuck was Liam? And why did she get like that ?

She gets up from bed and starts pacing around the room talking to this Liam guy .Ok I’m not trying to be a jealous boyfriend.

Huh,boyfriend I like that .

But wait no I don’t want to be jealous guy but iam right now .Why the fuck was he calling he her in the of the night.

"It’s none of your business who answers my phone !!" She shouted to the guy on the other side of the phone .

She seems mad to whoever was on the line

I wouldn't want to be that Liam guy.

"Yes he is my boyfriend ." I felt my ego go way up when she called me her boyfriend. I really like the sound of that .

She finally hung up and came back to bed .Throwing the phone to our pile of clothes on the floor.

I checked the time on my phone and it was 4am. I wonder who was calling her this early or late. I don't know how that works .

She lays down her head on my chest and I wrap my arm around her .

She yawns "you're so warm ." She says cuddling me

"I could be your own personal heater ." I tell her kissing the top of her head

"I like that, maybe you should spend the night more often ." She wants me to spend the night more often?

Fuck yeah !!

"You do?" I ask

"Yes ." She says sleepily

I close my eyes thinking we were going to go back to sleep but I guess Dani had other

Plans her hand slowly slid down my boxers gently started stroking my cock.I mean I don't mind going again for another round .

There was something about Dani that drove me insane and maybe I was thinking it's love but no! It's too soon, maybe it is the fact that we can't be together that makes me want her more .

But it is ok this will be OUR SECRET.

Back to Dani'spov

I honestly don't know what I was doing. I had accepted to be Eddie's girlfriend even knowing he was my student .I don’t even think I was thinking straight right now .I don’t know what I am gonna do when I see him in public but right now all that matters is this moment.

Right now I don't care about the consequences of dating my student. I mean he is 20 and I'm 22 but still doesn't make a difference. He is my student and I'm his teacher. In no world is that right .

But right now being with him in bed felt right, the warmness of his body on mine. I love how that felt .

His arms around me made me feel so safe and secure and I've never felt like this for anyone, not even for Liam, my ex boyfriend who broke my heart into a million pieces the reason I moved back to Hawkins .

Liam and I had been together since high school we were on and off for longest time but eventually stay together two years ago at first it was all nice and mushy then it got to the point where he would get mad because I was just studying or a few months ago when I kept studying for my finals .Or when we lost him is when he got worse and the cheating started.

He would always tell me I never had time for him and there was no reason for me to be in college. I knew that he could give me everything and one day we would get married .

But I didn't want that I wanted to be a teacher, that was my dream but he wanted to take that away from me just because he was born into a rich family .

His family own a big business. I don't know what they did but they had shit load of money and Liam was supposed to take over the company and eventually he did .

But that wasn't the life for me. I mean I did love him or at least I thought I did but I wasn't ready to get married then .

But then I met Eddie who changed my way of thinking and if he were to ask me to marry him right now I would say yes I don't know what was wrong with me when I just met this boy and he was driving me crazy. I felt like a high school girl in love .

But was I in love?It couldn't be love when I just met him .

But I needed to take things slow with him I really wanted to make things work with him but first he had to graduate so we can be able to be together

For now our relationship will be OUR SECRET .

Next chapter

Dani’s apartment and her outfit pics from Pinterest

[nyxthedragon225]

i’ve read your pd zombie apocalypse au! i really enjoy it and i’m very curious to see where it will go! i don’t have any like direct questions but seeing your au ask made me really interested to hear more about a few if you wanna say anything about them!

- riptide superhero au

- pd college cafe

- riptide notes through desk

- modern riptide

- haunted library pd

- bitb fake dating

- bitb space au

OHOHOHOHOHHHHH YES

okay so first of all tysm for the nice things abt the zombie au :] its going to be a wild ride!

- riptide superhero au, i've already started writing but im gonna finish the whole thing before i post it. basically, chip and jay are supervillains (kinda) and gill is a hero. gill catches chip trying to steal a museum artifact (to return it to someone the museum stole it from (yes this is my anti-international museum propaganda fuck that shit)) and chip&jay slowly show gill how fucked up hero society is and turn him "villain."

- pd college cafe: william is a tired insomniac college student who drops by the new campus cafe and encounters dakota, the new barista. at the same time he meets his new classmate, Vyncent and he's rooming with Ashe, his friend from highschool in an apartment of campus. Also he might have a major crush on all three of them.

- Riptide notes through desk: The Albatrio all share a desk at dofferent periods and one day Chip leaves a note for himself in the desk. This leads to the three of them talking to each other through desk notes and becoming friends.

- modern riptide: i dont actually remember a lot about this one but I think the jist was that gill was a kid in a private school and after he graduated, he moved to a small coastal town called Mana to try and experience life outside the half-cult he was pretty much raised in and meets Jay, who's doing the same thing after getting out of her ultra-military family, and chip helps both of them experience freedom for the first time.

- haunted library pd: William is a ghost haunting the Rockfall Public Library. He doesn't do anything bad, he's more of a library helper than anything, helping people find books by floating them to the people. The town of Rockfall is a very Nightvale kinda place, and it's really just weird af with all the ghosts and supernatural stuff. Dakota and Ashe have lived in Rockfall their whole lives and are pretty good friends with William. Vyncent and Tide move there (Tide is Vyncent's foster dad) and they're both freaked out by all the weirdass shit happening in this town and the others have tk help them adjust.

- bitb fake dating au: in 1990, Kian is a rockstar and fans keep bugging him about his dating life, and Rolan's (very shitty) extended family invited him to christmas dinner and he doesn't want to go alone. They meet through Rand, who's Rolan's highschool friend and Kian's weed dealer, and decide to fake date to solve both problems. long story short they all three end up dating.

- bitb space au: rolan is an alien shapeshifter who, through a series of misunderstandings and shenanigans, ends up as a wanted criminal on the run from the law. He disguises himself as human lawyer Rolan Deep and moves to a small Venus colony called Galloway. He meets Rand and Kian, who eventually find out about the whole "criminal alien" thing because he's very bad at hiding it and decide to help him. Now all three of them are considered criminals because they're all very bad at pretty much everything /lh

[goblinselfshippr]

I'm just gonna copy and paste my fb defense of Haymitch here since it'll likely get taken down. I went a little off the rails (my entire extended family has to wake up and see this)

TW: If you haven't read the series, it's freaking brutal. I reference(not super detailed but mentioned) a lot of really horrible things that are CANNON. Such as: SA and other abuse, eugenics, torture, death, murder/execution, alcohol, brainwashing

Also im just kind of an asshole because that's MY MAN and my family does not understand why I love a scrunkly old alley cat. If you hit read more... bro this is probably at LEAST 1k words.

"He's an apathetic old drunk" You've never read a book in your entire life.

-Haymitch knowing before Katniss that they're torturing Peeta and trying to wear down 13 into saving him, but no one listens to him because hes not the barbie doll they want (mj)

-Haymitch sticking up for Effie in the entire series even though she's portrayed through Katniss' eyes as shallow and unlikable. He's smart enough to know it's not her fault and that she's ALSO been brainwashed to some degree(especially in catching fire)

-Haymitch comforting Finnick after describing the horrific SA he experienced at the hands of the capital (mockingjay)

-Haymitch trying at every corner to point out how helpful Peeta is so that 13 doesn't treat him like a traitor and harm him

❤️❤️❤️❤️

And yeah he's hard af on Katniss, and if you have poor reading comprehension skills, you might call it sexism. Here's the real tea:

-Katniss is an overall hostile and mistrusting person. Peeta has never done anything to seriously harm her and so she always suspects him to harm her. Its obvious within the first 20 minutes of meeting her. So Haymitch reflects the same hostility. Its the same thing she does with Buttercup. They hiss at each other and then go about their business because in the end they have their own shit to do.

-heres why Haymitch's appearance is so monumentally important: he has the "Seam look" like Katniss. And if you haven't read the books, the wealthy people blonde hair/blue eyes while the poor people from the Seam have dark curly hair and dark skin. Which is horrifying and implies the government uses eugenics to separate the classes, but ALSO, Haymitch having the same "look" as Katniss is 110% a parallel to show they both speak the same nonverbal language. He gives Katniss the gifts because they both already know nothing is free. Peeta, on the other hand, probably wouldn't be able to put that together. Not that one had it worse than the other (dudes mom was wicked abusive), just showing that Haymitch and Katniss basically only speak aloud for other people's sake.

❤️❤️❤️❤️

If you're a Katniss girlie, you're legally obligated to also like my dood. They're direct fucking parallels. You're supposed to see this traumatized shell of a person and think "holy shit that poor girl is gonna turn into that."

Like Katniss and Rue | Haymitch and Maysilee. Same exact situation. You dont even need to know all the backstory of Maysilee if you know what happens with the first pair.

Katniss is a standoffish dickhead and people applaud her for it (likely because of the manic pixie dreamgirl effect), but Haymitch does it and its a problem???? "Katniss has her moments of likability though." AND???? SO DOES HAYMITCH. as stated above.