#like with me she agrees but then around him she doesn't | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

barnacles34 · 2 days ago

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Steamy Mornings and Massages (Winter x Male OC)

7k words

Tags: smut, fluff, office sex, office massage, soulmates, romance, very love-heavy

Chapter 1: The Day After

"Let's just stay here," Minjeong murmured, pressing soft kisses to the crown of Junho's head. The morning alarm had shattered what his typically precise mind had categorized as Optimal Comfort Configuration™, but neither of them had moved to silence it[1].

His face remained buried in the crook of her neck, accepting what his mind reluctantly acknowledged as the only form of comfort he'd ever truly wanted. "Well, my secretary," he rumbled against her skin, the possessive pronoun carrying new weight in the morning light, "on a very important day, doesn't want to go to work?" Despite his words, his arms tightened incrementally around her waist, betraying his own reluctance.

Minjeong's embrace constricted in response, her Busan accent thick with morning warmth. "What are you going to do? Fire me?" Despite the implied challenge, she still continued to press soft kisses on his forehead. He tightened his embrace further, relishing in the warmth of Minjeong.

The challenge in her voice activated something primal in his executive functioning. His teeth grazed her neck in warning, hovering over precisely the spot that would make any low-necked blouse useless to wear for the following days. "Maybe," he murmured, his hand sliding to the small of her back with deliberate intent, dangerously close to the curve of her backside, "I'll fire you and keep you here, all day long, so that you belong only to me."

"That's..." her breath hitched as his hand dropped lower, "...rather unprofessional of you."

He lifted his head just enough to fix her with that boardroom stare that never failed to make her pulse race. "Says the woman currently preventing her CEO from attending his meetings." Her CEO? Something warm raced inside of her—she thought, her ceo? And this time, she wrapped her arms tighter—however much her thin arms could tighten; nevertheless, an affectionate hug.

"I prefer to think of it as optimizing your morning routine," she countered, though her professional efficiency was somewhat undermined by the way she melted under his touch, furthermore when he traced the curves of her backside. "Some things are more important than the Zhang Corp merger."

His laugh vibrated against her throat. "Careful, Secretary Kim. That sounds dangerously close to insubordination."

"And what does the CEO do with insubordinate employees?" The question emerged soft and weaker than intended as his mouth traced a deliberate path along her collar, trying her most obnoxiously.

"That depends," he murmured, his voice dropping to that dangerous register that made her breath catch. "Are they all as beautiful as you when they disobey direct orders?"

She attempted to maintain her composure, though her hands betrayed her by pulling him closer. "I wouldn't know. I've never seen you like this with other employees[2]."

"No," he agreed, suddenly serious as he raised his head to meet her gaze. "You haven't. You won't."

The intensity in his eyes made her throat tight. "Promise?"

Instead of answering, he caught her mouth in a kiss that effectively ended all discussion of work protocols and proper business conduct[3]. The morning sun painted complex equations of light across their entangled forms, but for once, neither of them was counting the minutes.

—

[1] The first recorded instance of CEO Kim's morning alarm continuing past its initial 0.3-second alert phase, a fact that would require significant updates to the home automation system's behavioral prediction models.

[2] The security system's emotion recognition protocols flagged this moment for what its algorithms could only classify as "Unprecedented Display of Executive Vulnerability."

[3] Later analysis would suggest that certain forms of insubordination yielded surprisingly positive results in terms of overall company morale, though these findings were kept strictly off the official record.

—

"You haven't eaten properly in days," Minjeong observed softly, her fingers tracing the subtle tension in his shoulders that most wouldn't notice. But she wasn't most people—she'd spent months learning to read the microscopic signs of his stress levels[4].

"I've been eating," he defended, though his attempt at authority was somewhat undermined by the way he instinctively relaxed under her touch.

"Coffee and quarterly reports don't count as meals," she countered, continuing her gentle exploration of his shoulder muscles. "I've watched you skip lunch three times this week alone."

He lifted his head to study her face, finding that mix of strength and tenderness that had first undone him. "You keep track of my meals?"

"I keep track of everything about you," she admitted, not backing down from his intense gaze. "Someone has to notice when you forget to take care of yourself."

His hand curved around the nape of her neck, thumb brushing her pulse point. "And you've appointed yourself to that position?"

"Consider it an extension of my secretarial duties," she murmured, then gasped softly as he tightened his grip in warning.

"There's nothing secretarial about the way you take care of me," he corrected, voice low and dangerous. "Is there, Minjeong-ah?"

The informal address, rarely used, made her breath catch. "No," she agreed quietly. "There isn't."

He studied her for a long moment, his analytical mind cataloging the flush in her cheeks, the slight quickening of her breath, the way she yielded to his touch while somehow maintaining that core of quiet strength[5]. "You're dangerous," he finally said, “dangerously beautiful, so beautiful,” then a kiss on the side of her neck which, eventually, will turn into a hickey and Minjeong hadn’t the power to resist her CEO’s advances anymore.

"Me?" She replied, out of breath, tremored, brilliantly transformed by her smile—the type of smile men fight wars for, the type of smile sinewy sociopathic CEOs would drop down for. "I'm just trying to make sure Korea's most brilliant CEO—I mean, my CEO, remembers to eat breakfast." Her small hand collected the waves of his hair, the aroma of the shampoo she recommended wafted in the air.

“Minjeong, you’re driving me crazy.”

“Is that a problem?” She pulled back her hand along his scalp, gathering hair, then trailing all down his nape, to his back: the type of affection that says, even if you were insane, I’d still be crazy about you.

Instead of answering directly, he pressed his lips to her forehead, then her temple, then the corner of her mouth—a calculated sequence of kisses that made her melt further into his embrace. "The only problem," he murmured against her skin, "is that you're making it very difficult to want to leave this bed."

—

[4] Her observation logs, never shared but meticulously maintained, included such details as the precise angle of his jaw when overwhelmed, the subtle shift in his typing rhythm when stressed, and the exact tone of voice that meant he'd skipped meals.

[5] The home automation system's behavioral analysis protocols struggled to categorize this new dynamic, where authority and surrender seemed to flow both ways simultaneously.

—

"Three days," Minjeong continued, her fingers finding the knots in his shoulders with practiced ease. "You've had that tension here since the Singapore deal started falling apart." The morning light caught the subtle furrow in his brow as he processed her words, realizing she'd been tracking his stress levels without him noticing. Her touch was methodical yet tender, each pressure point targeted with the same precision she applied to his scheduling.

"I didn't think anyone had noticed," he admitted, then caught her knowing smile. "Except you."

"I always notice," she replied simply. "Like how you've been drinking twice your usual coffee intake, or how your left eye twitches slightly when the board sends those passive-aggressive emails." Her hands moved lower, finding another point of tension. "You hide it well, but not from me."

He caught her wrist, bringing it to his lips. "It becomes…oddly weird when I see you do the things I usually do." The tease in his voice was softened by the way he pressed kisses to her fingertips.

"Consider it preventive maintenance," she countered, not backing down despite Junho trying to hide his habits under the rug, not backing down despite the heat in his gaze. "Someone needs to monitor your functionality levels[6]."

"Functionality levels?" His laugh rumbled against her skin as he shifted to hover over her. "Is that what we're calling this?"

"Would you prefer 'executive performance metrics'?" She managed to keep her voice steady even as his mouth traced a deliberate path down her throat. "I have spreadsheets..."

"Of course you do," he murmured, teeth grazing her collarbone in retaliation. "My perfectly thorough secretary, tracking every detail."

"Not just details," she breathed, hands sliding up his chest. "I know when you skip lunch to avoid the board members. When you stay late reviewing reports that could wait until morning. When you need..." she paused as his hand curved possessively around her hip, "...someone to remind you that you're human."

The words hung between them, heavy with meaning. Junho lifted his head to study her face, finding that unique blend of submission and strength that had first undone his carefully constructed defenses[7]. "And you've appointed yourself to that position?"

"Someone has to." Her smile carried traces of Busan sunshine. "Besides, I'm uniquely qualified."

"How so, Minjeong-ah?” Another tease.

“Because you love me.” Minjeong stated, matter of factly. And this time, Junho seized her tight, trapping her under him, seizing her two thin wrists. Then, pressed a deep kiss onto Minjeong’s delicate lips. After a while, he released himself from the kiss, the kiss that Minjeong reluctantly let go of—her lips pointing outwards like a duck as he left. Finally, he said, “That’s right, I love you.”

Her stomach stirred with butterflies and more.

—

[6] Her personal files, never shared but meticulously maintained, included detailed protocols for managing various levels of CEO stress responses, from subtle intervention to direct action.

[7] The exact moment of this defensive breach had been logged by the building's security systems, though the footage was classified under "Executive Privacy Protocols."

—

Minjeong lingered in bed, her heart performing calculations that had nothing to do with quarterly reports. The smart home system's sensors detected her elevated pulse rate, though no algorithm could properly quantify the joy radiating from her smile[8]. She stretched luxuriously against Egyptian cotton sheets that still held traces of his warmth, letting herself marvel at the reality of being here, in his space, surrounded by evidence of Junho.

Her mind couldn't help but catalog the endearing chaos around her—academic journals scattered across surfaces, a tablet displaying economic projections that had clearly been reviewed at 3 AM, several coffee cups in various states of abandonment. The morning light revealed what darkness and desire had hidden the night before: Junho's private space was a fascinating contradiction to his public persona, a detail she filed away with all her other precious observations of him.

Rising with practiced grace, she padded across cold hardwood floors, her bare feet gliding across the floor. His dress shirt from the previous night—the one that had hung open as they'd discovered more interesting uses for his mahogany desk—called to her like a siren song. She slipped it on, the fabric carrying traces of his unisex cologne and something uniquely him that made her stomach flutter[9].

Junho emerged from his ensuite bathroom to find her like this: drowning in his shirt, examining his space with that careful attention she brought to everything concerning him. His breath caught audibly.

"That's mine," he noted, his voice carrying that dangerous edge that never failed to make her pulse race.

She turned to face him, letting the hem of his shirt brush against her thighs. "Really? I think it’s mine."

—

[8] The home automation system logged this moment as: "Secondary User Biometrics Indicating Unprecedented Levels of Serotonin. CEO Response: Highly Favorable."

[9] Security footage would later reveal this as the exact moment CEO Kim's usually impeccable morning routine experienced a critical efficiency failure, though no one questioned why that particular shirt never made it to the dry cleaners.

—

"You know," Junho mused against her neck, his hands tracing idle patterns on her thighs, "for someone so concerned about my eating habits, you're being very distracting in my kitchen."

"Me?" Minjeong's attempt at innocence was undermined by the way her fingers kept playing with his hair. "I'm trying to feed you."

"Wearing my shirt. Sitting on my counter." His smile carried equal parts mischief and heat as he pulled back to look at her. "I'm starting to think this is corporate sabotage, Secretary Kim."

She tried to maintain her professional expression, though her lips twitched. "I would never compromise company productivity, 사장님."

"No?" He raised an eyebrow, fingers sliding deliberately higher under his shirt. "Then explain why Korea's most efficient CEO is currently contemplating skipping his 9 AM."

"Poor executive guidance?" she suggested, then squeaked as he nipped her earlobe in retaliation. "I mean... clearly you need better supervision."

"Is that your professional opinion?" His laugh was warm against her skin. "And I suppose you're volunteering for the position?"

"Well," she threaded her fingers through his hair, tugging gently, "I do have extensive experience in handling difficult executives."

He lifted his head, eyes dancing. "Difficult?"

"Demanding," she amended, then added with deliberate sweetness, "High-maintenance?"

"You," he declared, catching her wrists and pinning them behind her back with one hand, "are getting dangerously bold with your performance reviews[12]."

Her answering smile was pure sunshine. "Does that mean I'm not getting that raise?"

"Oh, I'll give you a raise," he promised, his free hand sliding up her spine as he pressed closer. "Right after we discuss your insubordination."

"I have a presentation prepared," she managed, though her breath hitched as his mouth found that sensitive spot behind her ear. "Complete with charts on CEO stubbornness metrics..."

"Using company resources for personal research?" His mock disapproval was somewhat undermined by the way he couldn't stop smiling against her skin. "That's a serious violation of corporate policy."

"And what's the penalty for that?" She arched into his touch, shameless. "More overtime with my boss?"

"Definitely." He captured her mouth in a kiss that tasted like laughter and promise. "Starting now[13]."

—

[12] The home automation system registered this interaction as a significant deviation from standard performance review protocols, though it noted remarkable improvements in overall satisfaction metrics.

[13] Later analysis of the kitchen's usage patterns would reveal this as the morning the coffee maker recorded its latest ever first brew, a delay that would become surprisingly routine.

—

"We're going to be late," Minjeong observed, though she made no move to leave her perch on the counter as Junho's hands mapped new territories beneath his borrowed shirt. The morning sun painted gold across his shoulders, and she couldn't resist tracing the light with her fingers.

"Concerned about punctuality now?" His smile was wicked against her collar. "After deliberately sabotaging your CEO's morning routine?"

"I would never," she protested, then gasped as his teeth found that sensitive spot below her ear. "I'm simply... optimizing your schedule."

"Is that what we're calling it?" His laugh vibrated through both their bodies as he pressed closer, effectively trapping her against the granite. "And how does this particular optimization benefit the company?"

Her fingers curled into his hair as his mouth traced a deliberate path down her throat. "Improved executive mood... increased satisfaction metrics... better work-life balance..."

"Very thorough analysis," he approved, his hand sliding higher up her thigh. "Though I think we need more data points[14]."

"준호야..." Her professional composure cracked entirely as his fingers found bare skin. "The Zhang Corp meeting..."

"Can wait." He lifted his head to meet her gaze, his smile carrying that perfect blend of authority and affection that never failed to undo her. "I'm conducting important research."

"On what?" She managed to arch an eyebrow despite her rapidly dissolving coherence. "How to make your secretary lose her mind?"

"Girlfriend," he corrected, voice dropping to that dangerous register as his thumb traced patterns on her inner thigh. "And I believe we were discussing your performance review[15]."

Jun abruptly stopped their performance review midway because the deal was on the line and time was running short. Minjeong was reminded of this painfully by how Jun pulled away from the kiss—she was pouty about it until they reached the office, when her damascus-like resolve kicks in.

—

[14] The kitchen's environmental sensors registered multiple instances of what could only be classified as "Critical Protocol Deviations," though these readings were automatically archived under "Executive Privacy Settings."

[15] HR would later note a curious correlation between the CEO's improved mood and these new "morning performance evaluations," though no one dared to investigate further.

—

Chapter 2: The Meeting

The Zhang Corp representatives sat across the mahogany conference table, their expressions carefully neutral as they reviewed the merger proposals. Minjeong maintained her perfect professional facade, though her pulse quickened every time Junho's hand brushed hers as she passed him documents[1].

"The third quarter projections," she murmured, leaning close enough that his cologne made her thoughts stray to their morning activities. His finger tapped twice against the paper—their private signal that he needed a moment to compose himself.

"As you can see," Junho addressed the room with that commanding presence that made board members squirm, though Minjeong could detect the slight roughness in his voice that hadn't been there before their morning 'delay', "our integration timeline is aggressive but achievable."

She took her seat beside him, crossing her legs in a way that made his pen pause fractionally on the contract. Two could play at this game of professional torture. His response was to rest his hand on her thigh under the table, hidden from view but commanding enough to make her breath catch[2].

"Secretary Kim," he said smoothly, his thumb tracing dangerous patterns against her skin, "would you pull up the logistics breakdown?"

"Of course, 사장님." She managed to keep her voice steady as she reached for her tablet, though her free hand found his wrist under the table, her fingers curling around it in what could have been either submission or warning.

The meeting proceeded with perfect corporate efficiency, though the undercurrent of tension between CEO and secretary created what the room's environmental sensors could only classify as "Critical Atmospheric Pressure"[3].

—

[1] The conference room's biometric scanners noted elevated heart rates in both CEO and secretary, though this data was diplomatically omitted from official meeting records.

[2] Security footage would later require careful editing to maintain professional appearances, particularly regarding certain "under-table activities."

[3] The Zhang Corp representatives would later confess to the fact that they could tell what was happening, no amount of demure leg-crossing could hide it. Though, they ignored it in order to get that deal (which was integral to them).

—

The private office door clicked shut behind them, the afternoon sun casting long shadows across imported marble floors. Junho rolled his shoulders, tension evident in his posture despite the meeting's success[4].

"Come here," Minjeong said softly, recognizing the signs of his post-negotiation stress. She guided him to his leather chair, her hands already moving to his shoulders. "You get so tense during these meetings." Instead of standing behind him and the chair, she stood in front, impending a mount to get ‘better access’ to his shoulders.

"Keeping my hands to myself requires considerable effort," he admitted, then groaned softly as her fingers found a particularly tight knot. "Especially when you keep giving me those looks."

"What looks?" Her innocent tone was betrayed by the way her hands slid lower, tracing patterns down his upper chest. "I was being perfectly professional."

He caught her wrist, tugging her to face him. "Professional? Is that what you call that thing you did with your pen?"

"Taking notes?" She smiled down at him, letting her fingers trail along his tie. "I'm very thorough in my documentation."

"Very thorough," he agreed, pulling her into his lap with practiced ease. "Though I noticed some interesting gaps in the meeting minutes."

"Oh?" Her hands returned to his shoulders, kneading the tension even as she shifted closer. "Like what?"

"Like how many times you deliberately brushed against me," his voice dropped lower as her fingers worked their magic, "or how your skirt kept riding up when you reached for files[5]."

"Maybe," she breathed, her ministrations becoming less therapeutic and more intentional, "your secretary just needs better supervision."

His laugh rumbled through both their bodies. "Is that what you need, Secretary Kim?"

Instead of answering, she pressed a kiss to that spot below his ear that always made him growl. His hands tightened on her hips in warning, but she didn't stop her exploration of his neck, her fingers still working the tension from his shoulders even as she created a different kind of pressure entirely.

"The door," he managed, though his hands were already sliding under her blouse.

"Locked," she murmured against his skin. "I'm very efficient."

"My perfect secretary," he agreed.

—

[4] The office's environmental controls registered what could only be classified as "Post-Meeting Stress Relief Protocol: Executive Override Engaged."

[5] The meeting's official minutes would maintain strict professional standards, though certain observations were kept in much more private records.

—

"You're still tense," Minjeong observed, her fingers tracing new patterns down his spine. The afternoon light painted gold across his desk, where various merger documents lay forgotten. "Let me take care of you properly."

She slid from his lap, moving behind his chair with practiced grace. Her hands returned to his shoulders, this time with more purposeful intent. Junho's head fell back as she worked a particularly tight knot, a sound escaping him that had nothing to do with professional conduct[7].

"That noise," she murmured, leaning close enough that her breath teased his ear, "is definitely not going in the meeting minutes."

His laugh turned into another groan as her thumbs hit a sensitive spot. "Keeping secrets from the board, Secretary Kim?"

"Only the interesting ones," she admitted, her hands sliding lower, tracing the muscles of his back through his expensive shirt. "Like how my very commanding CEO turns to putty when I do this..."

His hand shot up to catch her wrist in warning. "Careful," his voice carried that dangerous edge that made her stomach flip. "You're getting bold with your observations."

"Just maintaining detailed records," she breathed, not backing down despite his grip. "For example, when I press here..." Her free hand found another knot, making him inhale sharply. "Your left eye twitches slightly. And when I do this..." She leaned forward, letting her lips brush his neck. "Your pulse jumps exactly like it did during the merger talks[8]."

The chair spun suddenly, Junho pulling her back into his lap with decisive force. "You," he growled, hands spanning her waist, "are playing a dangerous game."

Her smile was pure innocence, though her fingers were already working his tie loose. "I'm simply being thorough in my duties, 사장님."

"Your duties," he repeated, watching her with dark amusement as she stripped his tie with expert efficiency. "Is that what we're calling this?"

"Would you prefer 'executive stress relief'?" She gasped as his teeth found her collar. "Or maybe 'personnel management'?"

His laugh vibrated against her skin. "I prefer," he murmured, hands sliding deliberately up her thighs, "when you stop talking altogether[9]."

—

[7] The office's audio sensors temporarily malfunctioned during this period, a technical glitch that occurred with suspicious regularity during certain "private meetings."

[8] Her personal files contained extensive documentation of CEO behavioral patterns, though certain observations were encrypted under "Private Research: Ongoing."

[9] The afternoon's remaining meetings would require creative rescheduling, though no one questioned why the CEO's mood had improved so dramatically.

—

"You missed a spot," Minjeong murmured against his mouth, her fingers finding another knot of tension in his shoulders even as she shifted closer in his lap. The leather chair creaked softly beneath them, a sound that would forever carry new associations in both their minds[10].

"Did I?" His hands slid higher beneath her skirt, mapping territories that were becoming dangerously familiar for office hours. "Or are you just making excuses to keep touching your CEO?"

She pulled back just enough to give him that look—the one that somehow managed to be both defiant and yielding. "I take my responsibilities very seriously, 사장님."

"I've noticed," he growled, catching her wrist as she tried to maintain the pretense of massage. "Like how seriously you took those meeting notes earlier. Very... thorough."

Her laugh caught in her throat as his lips found that sensitive spot below her ear. "I was documenting important observations."

"Such as?" His teeth grazed her pulse point, making her grip his shoulders for balance.

"Such as," she managed, though her professional tone wavered as his hands grew bolder, "how the great Kim Junho gets distracted when I cross my legs. How your voice drops exactly half an octave when you're trying not to react to me. How you tap your pen twice when you're thinking about—"

He silenced her with a kiss that effectively derailed all attempts at analysis[11]. When he finally pulled back, her dazed expression made him smirk. "Any other observations to record, Secretary Kim?"

“I must’ve forgotten, I usually remember better when you kiss me.” She hinted, and he obliged, letting his lips connect yet again with Minjeong. This time, the endless teasing reached a breaking point that both of them coalesced to at the same time.

He tightly grasped her backside then pulled her up from the executive chair to the executive table. Wherein, she was splayed across the wide table. “We really have to ban tables when we’re around each other.” She joked.

“That’d be a terrible idea.”

“How so?”

“Where else could I splay you across like this, then explore you, centimeter-by-centimeter?”

“Hmm…” she hummed, pleased, "Yeah?"

“Yeah.”

“Then come here, my ceo.”

“My beautiful secretary, whatever shall I do with you?”

“I don’t know, why don’t you find out?” She pulled as tight as she could, locking her arms around his neck.

He obliged, meeting lips with her once again. He felt the softness of her face as he explored deeper into the kiss, forgetting time and everything except what was being shared between them. Journeying his hands further, entangling it into the silken strands of his lover as he deepened the kiss, and she replied with a deep sigh—trembling with a mix of her high register.

“You’re such a good woman for me, Minjeong.” He said before nipping at her lower lip, catching it softly between his teeth with a teasing tug, Minjeong let out a breathless laugh, “you’re devouring me, Junho.” Regardless, he dug deeper, letting his entire body shift into Minjeong’s malleable, petite body—letting his hand explore more of her silken strands, almost saying, yes Minjeong, that is my purpose: to devour you.

Now, instead of every 5 seconds, Minjeong’s soft moans that only served to goad Junho on were musically released into his ears every second. Precautiously, she asked, “how good is the soundproofing in your private room-ah!”

“Not good enough to hide your moans, dear.” He replied, his voice like rough gravel. Her eyes widened suddenly from the need to hide her moans. Yet he dug deeper, letting his loin rub against her wet bottom, daring her moan out loud.

Despite all the regulations, the possible condemnation, their passions only grew more. Mouths moving in sync, gazes meeting momentarily, it wasn’t just kissing anymore—it was a language. The type of language where Minjeong coalesced to his dangerous games and learned to enjoy it, almost as much as him.

“Junho, seriously, I don’t want to be seen as-”

“Minjeong-ah, I don’t give a single fuck if my employees hear you and I.” The teeth that so brazenly tugged on her lower lips trailed down her neck, tracing the soft tendons.

Whispering, in a verbose way, “And as you are my secretary, my extension, my life-line, you’ll follow. Me.” And as Minjeong was getting battered by the gravel-slung voice of Junho—she hadn’t noticed how her blouse was opened, bra pushed down to reveal the breasts that he was so infatuated with—only until she felt the torsion of her nipple.

“Ngh!”

“I love that, Minjeong, scream out. I’ll fuck you until the entire floor hears you call my name.”

And another wet mewl that inspired his further deviance.

Feeling the soft suction of his mouth on her neck, she deduced that it could only mean one thing: another hickey just placed above the collar of her blouse, the same sort of hickey that the Zhang corp executives couldn’t keep their eyes off of—any justification in their minds that it was a skin discoloration was debilitated by how intensely Minjeong and Junho shared those deadly glances, likely to jump on each other as soon as they left—and they were right.

“Junho—ngh!”

“Louder.” He replied, testing her, “fucking. Louder.” Then he pressed deeper, grinding his rough textured pants on the creamy soft bottom of Minjeong.

“Please Junho, seriously.” Was all that she could get out of her bated breaths, her deep moans.

Then suddenly, he stopped, caressing the softness of her cheeks with his, back-handed, knuckles.

“You look so beautiful when you’re all tired and exhausted, did I tell you that before?” Letting the tune of his voice marinate with Minjeong (who was recovering from how hot and bothered she was just a second ago).

However good his intentions were, he wasn’t perfect. The way Minjeong’s body looked splayed against the messy paperwork, her blonde hair all frizzy and stuck to the desk, how her chest went in-and-out catching all the breath she lost—all of it made it impossible for him to resist anymore.

He pounced on her again, connecting lips against her wet, trembling lips that nonetheless accepted him so openly, like a warm cup of milk tea on a winter morning. That momentary pause had changed everything, Minjeong—now fully conquered by him—was begging for that penetrative action that he would give out so liberally to her.

“Naughty woman, bad secretary, what else?”

“Junho’s toy.”

“Fuck.” And in a flash, his belt flew off, then in another flash, his pants fell down.

“Tented much?” She was truly in no position to tease: a strategic error.

He grinned at the statement, finally, teasingly, let his underwear fall inch-by-inch.

Simultaneously, she bunched up her legs then pulled off her panty that revealed the color combinations that he would die for. Though before he could look for longer, she crossed her shins—hiding the cause of Junho’s demise behind her thin legs.

They shared a giggle before Jun hugged her soft body.

“I will penetrate you in this office.”

“Yes. It appears so.”

“No, like, do you consent?”

“Idiot..” Minjeong pulled him in for another kiss. Which, coincidentally, made his tip graze her engorged and swollen core, Minjeong almost came instantaneously from that alone.

And he could tell, laughing, “Seriously, Minjeong?”

“It’s your fault, you trained me like this.”

“This is like our 3rd time.” He said, as if to brush it off.

“This is my 3rd time.”

And Minjeong would be certainly hurt by the thought that Junho’s partners before her made it more than his 3rd time for him—some of them, the girlfriends, she saw.

He caught on the clues before it was too late, “Minjeong, not to compare, but who else have I been so crazy about? Who else did I track for every minute of the day? Who else did I let in my home (his girlfriends didn’t, actually, get to enter his home)? Who else would make me lose composure when they’re out of my sight-line?”

Letting his forehead touch against hers, he could feel her heart rend and beat and do all sorts of bothered gymnastics.

“It’s always been about you, Minjeong. You are the brilliance of my life, the expansion of a born star—bright from millions of light years away.”

And she needn’t say anything or reply. Absolving him by wrapping her arms tighter around his nape, then holding up her head to desperately kiss Junho again and again.

In between all the kisses, he penetrated Minjeong. His length, constricted against her core, travelled softly—wringing out all sorts of noises. Her swollen pussy wrapped around him gently but tight. “I love you, Minjeong.” Was the last thing said before Minjeong’s eyes went into the back of her head—a cute habit—before she orgasmed and creamed all over.

As per her request, Junho didn’t stop. He let his hips move as slow as he could possibly go before it could be called torture. During all this, Minjeong grabbed for stability as she was getting fucked through her orgasm, feeling that intense thrusting from the love of her life as she covered his length in more of her slick.

“Oh f-” He covered her mouth this time, respecting her wish to stay at least a little lowkey in the office, whatever the hell that meant right now. Then, shallow thrusts turned into slow thrusts all the way to the hilt, getting Minjeong to scrunch her face in pleasure, eyebrows knitted in the highest pleasure, her mouth agape with strands of her saliva connecting the roof of her mouth to her tongue.

“I love you, Minjeong. Fuck. This is insane, having sex with you in my office.”

“Ngh~ I - I love you so much,” was all that she could get across before succumbing to her dopamine receptors—eyes joining the back her head. Junho connected lips with her again, letting her legs lock around his waist, then rubbing his pelvis against her engorged core, clitoris and all.

After Minjeong finally got used to the familiar motions, he grasped her thin waist, almost wrapping his two hands around the entire circumference of her tight waist. Then their eyes met momentarily, Junho had the I am going to fuck you through this desk eyes whilst Minjeong had the prey eyes that relentlessly coalesced to him. Though, before he could go wild, he brushed off the stray hairs stuck to her forehead, gave a reaffirming kiss on her forehead before pumping all the way in.

The small of her back surrendered to his tight grip, bending against the pushes and pulls. Her legs tightened the lock around his waist—almost painfully tight, but that didn’t matter to him, who’d get to pummel her soft pussy.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he planted his body against Minjeong’s, pinning her two thin wrists against the stable table.

“You’re fucking me so good, Junho,” Minjeong replied, her rare use of the curse made him chuckle by the side of her head.

“That’s right, baby,” Junho bear-hugged Minjeong, only thrusting deeper and deeper, pelvis rubbing against hers, to make her cum again.

“NGHHH~!” The abrupt moan startled him and herself—however, they didn’t care as much about the employees anymore after indulging in each other’s bodies. Instead of stopping or evaluating the situation—as the rationalists would do—they dug deeper into each other, trying to carve each other with their soft and swollen lips.

Suddenly, he lifted Winter and turned her over. Bending her back against the table before dipping his cock into her pussy again. This time, the entrance was entranced with the soft, tight, wet feeling that he was fully obsessed with. This time, he had more ready access to her soft ass that was so soft and supple that he had to relieve it of its aesthetic beauty: with some redness spread across her ass.

“Oh my god!” Winter squeaked as she reacted against the heavy-handed slap against her ass, loving it, spreading—overflowing—his length with her slick.

Leaning over, he held Minjeong’s chin for the last stretch, considerably slowing down and enjoying each other’s presence.

“How much do you bet the coworkers will give us bad looks?”

“The female workers already give me horrible ones.” She said whilst her chin was held stable by his hand, still moaning against the soft thrusts.

“Hmm, broad generalization. How do you know this?”

“That hickey that you gave that was far too purple and far too above the collar of my blouse.”

“No long-necked turtleneck?”

“No, that’d ruin the point, I wanted to show off the gift my Junho-ssi gave.” That was the moment when he moaned hard, pressing deep inside Winter before releasing all his seed—the seed that Winter felt bounce against her cervix, making her moan out and squeal happily.

“God. Minjeong, you will be my demise.” He sighed before Winter turned around and kissed him, “as long as I get to stay with you, through demise and all,” she said between the kisses.

—

[10] The office furniture procurement department would later note an unusual request for "enhanced stability features" in executive seating, though they wisely chose not to inquire further.

[11] The building's environmental controls registered what could only be classified as "Critical Temperature Fluctuation - Executive Override Protocol Engaged."

—

Evening painted Seoul's skyline in shades of amber and gold, the office gradually emptying as another corporate day drew to a close. Only the executive floor maintained signs of life, though its usual efficiency had given way to something far more intimate[12].

"We should go home," Minjeong murmured against Junho's shoulder, though she made no move to leave her position in his lap. His shirt had long since been unbuttoned, her blouse delightfully rumpled, both their professional facades thoroughly compromised.

"Should we?" His fingers traced lazy patterns up her spine, his other hand still possessively curved around her hip. "I rather like having my secretary exactly where she is."

She lifted her head to meet his gaze, finding that unique blend of authority and affection that never failed to make her heart race. "Your secretary has plans for you."

"Oh?" His interest visibly peaked. "More performance reviews?"

"Better." She smiled, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "I'm cooking you dinner. Besides, breakfast was skipped."

The surprise in his expression made her laugh softly. "You don't have to—"

"I want to," she interrupted, then added with deliberate sweetness, "Unless my CEO is refusing a direct offer from his girlfriend?"

His hands tightened on her waist. "Using that title to manipulate me now?"

"Is it working?" She bit her lip, watching his eyes darken at the gesture.

Instead of answering, he pulled her into a kiss that suggested dinner might be delayed[13]. When they finally broke apart, his smile carried dangerous promise. "Your place or mine?"

"Yours," she decided, fingers playing with his collar. "Your kitchen needs christening properly."

His laugh rumbled through both their bodies. "Just the kitchen?"

"We'll see how dinner goes," she teased, then squeaked as he stood suddenly, lifting her with him. "준호야!"

"Efficient time management," he explained, setting her on her feet but keeping her close. "The sooner we leave..."

She pressed against him, deliberate and knowing. "The sooner you can help me... cook?"

"Among other things," he agreed, already reaching for his jacket. The predatory grace in his movements suggested cooking might not be the evening's primary activity[14].

—

[12] Security logs would note this as the third consecutive evening of "Extended Executive Hours," though the actual nature of these extensions remained diplomatically unrecorded.

[13] The office's automated systems began learning to expect these end-of-day delays, adjusting power consumption accordingly.

[14] The kitchen's motion sensors would later flag unusually high activity levels, though whether any actual cooking occurred remained a matter of some debate.

Fin

I fixed some stuff that I executed poorly before, like the crazy amount of math references; which, in foresight, was far too much.

I really had to get this out quickly. Now, I think it's a good idea to not expect anything from me for an entire month (hopefully not).

hope u enjoyed.

#smut #kpop smut #fanfic #aespa #aespa smut #fanfiction #male oc #kpop #winter smut #aespa winter

309 notes · View notes

zepskies · 8 hours ago

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Awww yeahhh!! Again, I'm so happy you're reading this little Russell series--thank you again, and Happy Thanksgiving (if you celebrate it)! 🥰💕

I can't wait to dive into the rest of your thoughts on Part 1...

I love their friendship so much 😂 And kudos to Dory. It takes a lot to agree to this. It could potentially get very awkward 😝

Aww I'm so glad you love her and Dory's friendship! They've become that "ride or die" best girlfriends, and Dory strikes me as someone mature enough to handle her best friend dating her formerly estranged brother. loll It really does take a lot! Which is why the reader is being so cautious about even going on a date with Russell. 😅

God, I know. This is honestly what I think about the most when I watch Tracker. The whole story line is insane and intriguing and... 😅 I have a thousand questions, and there's so much you could do with it in fics. I love it (clearly) 😂🤍

Right?! That's what kept me watching, honestly. I still have so many questions, and even in this series I mostly go off of what we know so far in the show while exploring a couple of my own headcanons. Like you said, you can go in infinite directions with their family past, and even Russell's background!

I do think Russell knows a lot more about their past than he lets on. Also, he was way too chipper for someone who was accused of patricide by his own brother for twenty years. The dynamic between the brothers is just... interesting 👀

Oh yeah, definitely. Their mom is VERY SUSS as well. 🤔🤔

Oh, she's going full Reagan! 😂 I sense some trouble coming from the brother, though...

LOL you're spidey senses are correct. Charlie's a piece of work. 😬

Well, I hope he already picked out his casket... 🙈💀

Omgg but you killed me with that scaredy Dean gif from season 1. 🤣🤣 Like I said, Charlie's a piece of work, an addict, and unfortunately, lashing out at the one person still holding him down. 💙

I'd be a puddle before I even made it to the damn seat 🫠 And they are literally so cute together! I'm full on swooning over here 😍

Ughhhhhh girl SAME. Stick a fork in me with a slab of butter, I'd be DONE.

Ah, yes, the family business. Love that sublte hint 😆 Would be a good name for a brewery, tho 👍

Omgg I'm so glad you caught that!! lmao

Oh yeah, that's catchy. I could so see that on a draft label. 😜🍻

I like that you emphasized the darker parts of his life. Like I said, I don't buy his whole "I'm happy and funny and quirky" act. There's a lot more stirring beneath the charming surface 😅 (Another thing he has in common with Dean lol)

That's definitely not all there is to Russell, so thank you for pointing that out! SO many Deanisms in Russ, but it was pretty clear to me from the get-go (and especially in 2x02) that this guy has an edge, and a lot of experience with the darker shades of the military, despite his bouncy charm lol.

And oh, don't we love a good cry on the first date? Poor thing 😂🤍

Oh God yeah, she was mortified. 😂😂 I thought it would be understandable though, given what just happened with Charlie. 🥲💙

Indeed 😂 I would've loved to be a fly on the wall when Dory had this conversation with her lol How he very eloquently avoided talking about Colter accusing him of murdering their father. I wanna be a fly on the wall for that future convo too 🤣

Ha, ikr! Maybe I'll flash back to that convo in a future ESC story. 🤔

Oh he dodges that real well, doesn't he? 😂 He's going to continue hiding that aspect of things with Colter (I have plans for another sequel story in the future), but he will get into the circumstances around his father's death with her later on...

Loved that she got a punch in before even Russell got there. He might have actually killed that pig lmao

We love a strong heroine, right? 😘 Plus, as the sister of an Air Force/military guy, I felt like Charlie would've taught her how to defend herself. But oh God yeah, Russell might've let his hand "slip." 😬

I'm having vivid flashbacks to Smoke Eater 🥵🔥

Aahahaa I had hoped that moment where he holds her hand would be a nice little Easter egg for people who read Smoke Eater. 😘❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

Probably one of my favorite scenes is when characters are so hot for each other they lean against a car. There's just something so incredibly passionate about it 🔥🫠

Clearly we have similar taste on this stuff, because girl YES. 😮‍💨😮‍💨❤️‍🔥 Melts me every time I see/read it...

Oh, Russell, this is not what the lady wants to hear. Bless him tho 😂 And I figured she wanted more than a one-night-stand or fling. His job and lifestyle truly is a bit of a problem. But he wanted out anyways, so... 🤞

Bless his heart, he tried to make it sexy loll. And yeeep, not only does she want to tread lightly because he's Dory's brother, but she also isn't typically one for a fling, being an introverted nerdy type lol. Not to say that professors can't get down like that, but this character in particular is more the cautious type. 🤣🤣

I loved their first date! 😍🤍 Hopefully, they'll see each other again soon and might give this another shot. I have a feeling it's gonna involve her brother's bullshit somehow 😅

Aww thank you, friend!! I had so much fun writing their date lol. You already know they're gonna see each other again soon 😏 and your instincts are spot on as usual! Charlie's about to get himself into some trouble that he might just need some help getting out of... 😬😬

As always, reading your lovely, thoughtful and hilarious comments put a huge smile on my face! 😉💓💓

Every Second Counts - Part 1

Pairing: Russell Shaw x F. Reader

Summary: One date with your best friend’s brother leaves you wanting more, even though his questionable job and vagabond lifestyle make you want to guard your heart. When your brother falls into trouble, however, Russell is the first one you trust to help you find him.

AN: Finally, here we are at Part 1! Remember that A Line and a Half functions as our prologue here.

Word Count: 5.7K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only for some mature thoughts. Fluff, angst and hurt/comfort, drug use, mentions of drug addiction and alcoholism, skeevy men, and a tinge of spice.~

💜 Series Masterlist

Part 1: "Permission Granted"

“Are you absolutely sure?” you asked, with your hands on your hips.

You wanted no miscommunication here, no read-between-the-lines mishaps, no subtext or nuance to bite you in the ass later. So here you stood in the middle of your best friend’s office, still at the Wyoming University campus after your last class.

Dory had to laugh at you. She pushed away from her desk and threw her hands up.

“Yes, for the love of God, you can grab a drink with my brother,” she said.

After brushing a lock of blonde hair behind her ear, she went to you and set her hands on your shoulders.

“You have my blessing,” she said. “All I ask is that you don’t scar me with any gushy details afterward.”

Your face began to heat up in a blush. You crossed your arms.

“All right, no one said there was going to be any of that,” you replied. “It’s just a date. Barely a date, mind you.”

“A-huh,” Dory said with a sneaking smile. “Out of curiosity, what was it about him that hooked you? You’ve been dodging Chris’s valiant attempts for like a month now.”

Chris was a French and Spanish professor. His office was on the same floor as yours, so you two occasionally crossed paths whenever you ventured into the teacher’s lounge.

He usually caught you in the morning while you were grabbing your free coffee fix at the Keurig. He’d chat you up about his classes and his dog and his new boat, and all the while you’d struggle to get a word in edgewise. Despite that, he was good-looking and pleasant, for the most part. It was just…

“I don’t know. He’s not my type, I guess,” you shrugged. You kind of liked conversations where both people got to speak.

“And Russell is?” Dory said, in a teasing tone. You chewed the inside of your lip, fighting a smile.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “Kind of want to find out though.”

“Okay, well, let me know what you find,” Dory said, more wryly. You caught a bit of melancholy when her gaze drifted off. Your brows furrowed in concern as you drew closer, setting a hand on her arm.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

She was hesitant, but she eventually answered you with a confession.

“You know, it’s been about twenty years since I’ve seen him,” she said. “We’ve had entire lives already. I see him now, and there’s some of the Russell I knew when we were kids, but…there’s just a lot I don’t know about him, who he’s become.”

You could understand that. You squeezed her arm in sympathy.

“Well, he really seems to want to know you now,” you said. You remembered all the questions he asked you when he helped you carry your files back to your office after lunch today—most of them about Dory, about her career, your friendship, and ultimately, if she was happy.

“What happened to you guys?” you asked. “Why are you all so distant? Colter included.”

Dory’s face tightened. “It’s a long story. I’ve told you some of it. But basically, after our dad died, nothing was ever the same again.”

You dimmed at that. You knew their mother still lived in the cabin they grew up in, but Dory had never quite been able to tell you what happened to their dad. You’d never pushed the subject. You knew better than anyone what kind of pain that was.

“I just wish we’d been able to stay with each other. Me and my brothers, at least,” Dory said. But she adopted a smile for you, before she returned to her desk.

“Okay. Go on your non-date at your favorite bar with Russell. I’ll be here, grading papers until Judgment Day,” she said, with a small laugh that felt like a coverup for thoughts she no longer wanted to think about.

You let her do it. You grabbed your purse and work bag off the spare chair in front of her desk.

“So you’re sure,” you wanted to confirm. “One last chance for me to tell him I came down with food poisoning.”

Dory collected her stack of midterm papers and gave you a cheeky look that said, class dismissed. Then she clicked her red pen and pointedly looked down at the first batch of papers to read through.

You smiled. Okay, you thought, giving her a little wave goodbye when you turned to leave. You had just a couple of hours to drive home and get ready to meet Russell.

“Goodnight,” you called.

“Goodniiight,” Dory replied.

You heard the smirk in her voice without even having to look back.

After fighting through rush hour traffic, you were exhausted when you got home from work. Your tentative excitement and nerves about tonight gave you some new energy though, even if you thought those nerves were silly to have.

Barely a date, you reminded yourself, as you unlocked the door to your house. Barely a date, barely a date.

The Ring Camera beside the door chimed when you entered the house, signaling your arrival. You had to wrinkle your nose at the dank-ass smell that greeted you.

Frowning in annoyance, you dropped your stuff on the kitchen table for now and shucked off your heels. You made a beeline down the hall, to the bedroom that lied across from yours. You pushed it open without knocking. There you caught your older brother, Charlie, snoozing in his bed with the covers half pooling on the floor.

His room was a mess, as usual. Your gaze locked on the evidence of half a blunt on his nightstand and two smoked roaches beside it. You were glad it wasn’t remnants of white lines of powder, like times before, but there was also a large bottle of whiskey. It was almost empty, and hanging loosely from his hand.

He managed to raise his head a bit when you came in.

“Hey,” he said, blinking bleary eyes. He cleared his throat and tried to sit up.

You shook your head and picked around piles of dirty clothes and a couple of used paper plates on the floor. You swiftly grabbed the bottle from his hand and slammed it on the nightstand.

“You promised me, Charlie,” you snapped. “You promised me for the hundredth time that you’d quit all this shit. Where even were you last night? You weren’t home when I left for work this morning.”

He sighed, frowning at how loud you were, and sat up in bed. He swung his legs over the side and held his swimming head in his hands, resting his elbows on his knees. He ran a hand through his hair. It was nearly black, like Dad’s had been, but he’d inherited Mom’s lighter eyes.

“I got invited to a party,” he said. “I’m sorry, I know. This is the last time.”

You expelled a frustrated breath and shook your head.

“You’re a grown fucking man, Charlie! Do you really need me to give you the just say no speech?” you said.

“Look, I’m sorry. I don’t know how many times I can say it,” he said. He shut his eyes tight, probably trying to fend off a headache.

Good, you thought. Let that be a reminder of how bad he’d screwed up again.

“And while we’re at it, what about your half of the bills? You’re a week late,” you said, testily crossing your arms.

“Yeah, I’m a little behind,” he said. Once again, he cleared his throat past a wad of phlegm. He was still a bit crossfaded too, you could tell. “You know they cut my hours to part-time at the museum. I’ve, uh, I’ve been looking into getting another job—”

“I already paid the phone bill. And the internet, the water bill, the electricity,” you said. “The house may be paid off, but the least you can do is pay your half of living here.”

The longer you stared at him, seeing the guilt hidden behind drunken eyes, you realized he wasn’t just late on his half of the bills.

“How much?” you asked.

He frowned up at you. “What?”

“How much do you owe?” you said. Your voice was as cutting as your gaze. Charlie lowered his.

“It’s okay, don’t worry—”

“How much,” you pressed.

He looked up at you again, this time with pursed lips. After a beat, he sighed and gave in.

“About two grand,” he admitted.

You raised your eyes heavenward, muttering a curse. Your hands went to your temples as you had to pace the room. You were angry and exasperated in equal measure.

“Who the fuck do you owe two grand?!” you asked.

Charlie shook his head. “It’s better that I don’t tell you that.”

You paused. As you looked down at him, your anger dissolved into sadness, like it always did.

“If Mom and Dad could see you now, they wouldn’t recognize you,” you said.

Charlie fought not to react to that, his brows furrowing. Instead, he just looked down, unable to answer you.

“Charlie, you need help. I can’t keep doing this with you,” you said. Your shaky breath gave way to the burn of tears.

His red-rimmed eyes became glassy as well.

“I’m sorry,” was all he said.

He was always sorry. And you always had to be the one to nurse him back to health, pick up the pieces, pay the bills. You were exhausted. The bone-deep kind of tired that felt like gravity wasn't so much keeping you down, but pushing you.

“I’m going to ask for two things: do what you need to do to get paid, and clean up your shit. If you can’t accomplish that, then I’m taking you to rehab,” you said.

“You know I’ve tried that,” Charlie said, with a shrug of his shoulders. “Didn’t really work for me.”

“You left the program after two weeks!” you retorted.

“I did it on my own! I’ve been clean for months,” he argued.

“And what happened? You go to one party and all your good sense, all your training, mentally and physically—that all goes out the window?” you said. You had half a mind not to believe him.

“Yeah well, maybe just for one night, I wanted to relax without you harping on my back,” he said, glaring up at you. “Is that too much to fucking ask? For you to give me some goddamn slack?”

Your mouth fell open incredulously.

“I’m on your back?” you said. “Okay. I’ll get off. Do whatever the hell you want, Charlie. I’m done.”

You left his room in an angry huff. You headed over to your room so you could take a shower and start getting ready to meet Russell at Howley’s.

By the time you got to your bedroom, you heard the front door slam closed.

The truth was, you were no longer in a mood to have fun when you pulled up to Howley’s, but you needed to escape your house. Also, you weren’t someone who canceled on people last-minute, especially not on Dory’s own brother.

You found Russell waiting for you at the bar. He waved to you with a fifth of whiskey in hand and an easy grin. He’d saved you a seat beside him.

You found yourself smiling. Your mood began to lighten as you went over to him. He looked more or less the same, but this time the jacket and jeans combo was navy blue and dark wash, respectively. His hair was swept back, lightly gelled. You smelled the familiar, rich woodiness of his cologne when you drew near, along with a hint of spicy soap.

“Hey, there.” He greeted you with a warm hand on your back. He helped you into your seat.

“Hey, yourself,” you replied, and thanked him for the assist onto the tall stool. You’d opted for jeans and a blouse, paired with your favorite leather boots. It was less dressy than he’d seen you before, but that was “work mode.” This was a more casual affair, even if you’d spent at least twenty extra minutes on your makeup.

You were glad he picked a spot at the end of the bar though. It put some distance from the group of guys getting rowdy as they cheered at the football game playing on the TV.

“How was the rest of your day, Professor?” he asked. “And what’re you wanting to drink?”

You let out a long sigh and turned toward him, resting your elbow on the counter.

“Awesome. I’m going to need two shots of tequila and an order of something fried, and preferably covered with cheese, please,” you replied.

Russell’s grin deepened. “Okay, I’m thinking ‘awesome’ is code for something. But we can get started on that order of Forget Today’s Unfortunate Events.”

He flagged down the bartender with a raise of his hand, but he shot you a glance.

“Though I’m hoping it’s not all of today that you wanna forget,” he said.

Your lips threatened another smile, as the memory of your hand being swept up into his, and soft lips meeting the back of your hand filtered through your mind.

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s possible,” you said.

After about ten minutes of playfully debating the appetizer menu (you swore by the pretzel and beer cheese, but Russell had his eye on those spicy wings), he finally settled on ordering both.

“When in doubt, don’t go without,” he’d remarked.

You swept a pretty coil of hair over your shoulder and downed your tequila shots with a lime wedge. Meanwhile, Russell tried not to linger his eyes on the way your tongue swept over your finger to catch a drop of lime juice. Your nails were manicured, and the shade of the polish matched your lipstick.

Russell didn’t pretend to know the art and science of a woman’s wardrobe, but everything about you was thought out, it seemed, falling in line with what he’d expect from a (sexy as all hell) college professor. You’d also told him at lunch today that as of last year, you now had two doctorates: History and Ancient Studies.

Even with all that under your belt, you also seemed refreshingly down-to-earth, a lot like Dory in that sense. He could see why you two were friends.

“So, are you from here, or are you a transplant, like my sister?” he asked.

Dory hadn’t come to live in Wyoming until their aunt and uncle took her in, when she was about eight years old. Before last month, Russell hadn’t seen her since. It hurt his heart to think about, but he tried to focus on you.

You now seemed to be staring a bit listlessly at the glass of whiskey in his hands. He laid a hand on your arm and called your name.

“Hmm?” Your brows rose as you blinked to attention. “Oh! I’m sorry. Yes, I’ve lived here pretty much forever.”

“You okay?” Russell asked. “Tequila hit ya a little hard?”

You shook your head. “No, I’m sorry…”

You raised your hands up to your temples. You debated whether you wanted to open up about this, but…considering who Russell was, you thought he might just understand.

“Dory told me you’ve been trying to reconnect with your brother, right? Colter?” you said.

Russell nodded. He wasn’t sure how much Dory told you about their family business, but it dimmed his mood.

“Well, you could say I’ve got a brother issue of my own,” you said, laughing humorlessly. “You don’t have to talk about yours, but maybe you’ll understand… My brother is a veteran too. He was a Captain, air force pilot. He fought in Afghanistan, mainly.”

Russell processed that with a nod. “Yeah, I was there too. Special Ops.”

“Wow, okay. Then you know what it was like for him, coming back home,” you said. Your gaze fell to your empty shot glasses. “It was hard, after…”

“After?” he prompted.

You sighed. “Near the end, he lost half his unit in a raid, off of some flawed intel.”

Russell’s brows knitted together. Hmm. Grief, survivor’s guilt, feeling like you don’t belong.

He was starting to get a clearer picture of who your brother was. It struck at familiar chords inside himself that he wasn’t so comfortable with. He shifted in his seat, fingers flexing over his glass on the counter.

You didn’t notice, but you did push the shot glasses away from you.

“I helped him the best I could,” you said. “I got him a job at the museum I interned at when I was in undergrad. He’s there as a security guard, but it’s not really enough, you know? It’s like, nothing satisfies him. I just…I don’t think I know how to help him anymore.”

You couldn’t help it. Emotion bubbled in your throat, making it close up on you as tears stung in your eyes. Your lower lip wobbled, and you tried to turn your face away. Embarrassment coiled up in your chest and made your face hot.

You felt a hand cover yours on your thigh, squeezing warmly. You looked up and met Russell’s gaze, both sympathetic and understanding.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, trying to calm your shuddering breath. “This isn’t exactly first date material. I can’t believe I unloaded on you like that.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said. “Believe me, I get what your brother’s going through.”

He pushed the plate with the last piece of soft-baked pretzel over to you.

“You finish that if you want, then you go ahead and pick something else off the menu. I won’t even argue with you this time,” he promised with a grin.

It got you to laugh, at least, and he gave you a napkin for your tears.

God, get it together, you told yourself. You’re a damn mess.

“Thanks,” you said. You managed to smile as you blotted at one corner of your eye. You hoped you hadn’t just irreversibly smudged your mascara.

Russell surprised you by brushing his thumb against your other cheek, wiping a stray tear away. Your face began to warm with a blush.

“Again, I’m sorry for dumping on you. We had a fight right when I got home,” you admitted.

“What’s his name?” Russell asked.

“Charlie.”

“Older or younger than you?”

“Four years older,” you replied. “He enlisted a few years after he graduated high school.”

Russell flickered at a smile. Enlisted, huh?

Yet another thing he and Charlie had in common, except Russell hadn’t made it through high school in the classic sense.

“What do you think?” you asked.

“I think your brother sounds lost right now. I’ve known a lotta guys like him, unfortunately,” Russell admitted. “Walking back into civilian life, it ain’t easy. That I know my damn self. Just like I know a thing or two about being an older brother. He’s probably doing his best to keep it off your shoulders.”

You shook your head at that. Trying, maybe.

You weren’t even sure of that anymore. Still, it made you all the more curious about Russell and his family.

“I know I said I wouldn’t ask this, and you don’t have to answer. But did you and Colter have a falling out or something?” you asked.

Russell expelled a deep breath and took a sip from his glass. How was he supposed to navigate this minefield with you?

“You gotta understand that me, my brother, my sister, we didn’t grow up like a normal family,” he said.

“Yeah, I know,” you nodded. “Dory’s told me some of it. It sounded…rustic.”

He snorted. “Putting it mildly.”

He shook his head and drained the rest of his glass.

“Well, my brother’s got an idea about me that isn’t true,” he said.

Your head tilted in curiosity. “Which is?”

His lips briefly raised in a wan smile.

“We don’t gotta get into that one tonight. But uh, the truth is, I’ve tried reaching out to him several times now. He just doesn’t wanna hear from me,” said Russell.

You considered him for a moment. You laid a hand on his arm, covered by his jacket.

“Don’t give up,” you said, with a sigh of your own. “Despite some things I said to him today, I know I can’t. My brother’s the only real family I have.”

Russell grew curious then. “What about your parents?”

You gave a weak smile.

“They passed away when we were young, but…we don’t have to get into that one tonight,” you said, borrowing his words.

His expression fell. “Jesus. I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Thank you,” you accepted, twisting the napkin around your fingers.

An awkward lull of silence fell between you, until Russell nodded and blew out a breath.

“Well. Heavy, huh?”

You chuckled and rested your head against your hand.

“I know. Again, my fault,” you replied.

“It’s okay, swee—. Mmm,” he cut himself off, shooting you a knowing glance.

“Were you about to sweetheart me?” you asked playfully, nudging his hand. “You know how I feel about that.”

“No, ma’am. Not at all,” Russell shook his head. His smile gave him away though. You laughed and grabbed his arm.

“Come on,” you said.

He allowed you to lead him out of his seat. He already had a tab open, so he’d settle up with the bar later. “Where we going?”

“You’re gonna lose to me at pool,” you said with a smirk.

Russell laughed and wrapped his arm around your waist instead.

“Oh, okay. I’m gonna give you a run for your money, though,” he promised.

And he was true to his word.

Russell Shaw turned out to be a more than worthy opponent. You studied the board as you changed the angle on your cue stick no less than five times.

“You gonna make a move, or we going to be here all night?” he said.

He was smiling as he leaned against his own cue on the other side of the board. His clever moves had left you in a difficult position to get your three remaining solid-colored balls into the pocket.

“You hush. I’m thinking,” you said, fighting your own smile.

“Careful, you’ve got steam coming out of your ears,” he teased.

You shot him a narrowed look for that. But then you smiled, as the answer came to you. You walked around to his side of the board and nudged him with your hip.

“Excuse me, sir,” you said to him over your shoulder.

Russell made way for you, but his eyes followed the way you bent over to line up your shot. Namely the curve of your ass in those tight jeans. He could see you knew exactly what you were doing, in more ways than one.

You shot your shot. The solid green ball leapt over his white-striped blue one and managed to sink into the pocket. You straightened up and gave him a triumphant little smirk.

He tried to temper his smile (and ignore the way his cock twitched).

“All right, go on, do your little victory lap," he said. "But remember, I let you go first.”

“Like that matters,” you quipped back.

You went back to the other side of the board to line up your next shot. Russell noticed a pair of drunk men ambling your way from the bar, but before he could make a subtle move to put himself in between, one of the men’s gazes slid down your form and gave into the base urge to let out a low whistle.

And he slapped you right on the ass.

You gasped, grabbing hold of the pool table. Then your shock melted into ire.

Russell was already heading toward you with an angry frown of his own, but even he had to stop short, when he watched you throw a punch that cracked the drunken man across the bridge of his nose.

Good form, Russell thought, when the guy reared back with a howl. His nose dripped blood when his hands came away from his face.

His buddy started to raise his hackles, but that was when Russell stepped to your side. He angled himself toward you and loosely gripped his pool cue by his hip, like it was an extension of his arm. He was fully prepared to use it like one.

“Fucking bitch!” said the one who was still dabbing his nose in vain. He glared at you, his eyes watering involuntarily, while his friend tried to keep him upright. You rolled your eyes.

"You're the one who's crying, bitch," you returned. Russell held in a snort. He cleared his throat and looked on at the pair of idiots.

“I’d have a little sit down if I were you,” Russell told them, with a smirk. “Let that be a lesson to ya. And if it don’t stick? Well. Whatever you start, I can damn well finish.”

His steely gaze reinforced the promise of his words. The other men were still angry, but even drunks had some sense of self-preservation. They ambled toward the back of the bar to find another pool table.

Russell focused his attention back on you, finding you looking down at your hand, rotating your wrist and flexing your fingers.

“Well, look at you, slugger,” he said. You met his smile with one of amusement.

“That’s just what I needed tonight. A broken hand,” you quipped.

“Aw, it doesn’t look as bad as all that. But can I see?” he asked. You allowed him to take your smaller hand in his. Your knuckles were red and tender to the touch when he gently pressed. You hissed in pain.

Damn, she really gave it to him, Russell thought.

“Sorry,” he said, but your hand felt fine, at least. More than fine. His gaze flicked up to yours as his amused grin deepened. “Good hit though.”

If he liked you before, he might’ve fallen half in love with you right there.

You laughed through the pain. “Yeah, my brother did teach me something. Shit.”

Russell led you back to the bar after you grabbed your purse. There he called to the bartender for some ice. The guy nodded; he’d seen the entire exchange and was sympathetic.

You knew this sort of thing was just par for the course at this kind of bar, but they had the best drinks. Charlie had to carry you out of here on your twenty-first birthday, drunk off your ass. Not to mention, he’d punched out two handsy dicks that night.

You recounted the story to Russell over a couple more drinks. Your conversation was lighter then, filled with laughter and a warm, companiable feeling. He was still rather evasive about his job, but you supposed he had to be, since it was government contract work.

Private security, mainly. Or so he'd said. This man made you infinitely curious, and a bit apprehensive, if you were honest.

And yet, at some point while you two shared and laughed and split a hot sandwich with another round of beers, you realized it.

I like this, you thought. And I like him.

However, the night had to come to an end sometime. Your third involuntary yawn told Russell it was time to call it.

"I'm okay," you tried.

"Nah, you've gotta work tomorrow," he said. He signaled to the bartender. "Let me go ahead and close out my tab."

“Oh, I can pay for half,” you said, reaching for your purse now hanging from your hip.

“You kidding me? Put that away,” he said, guiding your hand with your wallet aside.

Smiling, you accepted his generosity with a small thank you. Then, you let him take up your sore hand again, just to carefully press the half-melted bag of ice over it.

“Feelin’ better?” he asked.

Your smile became softer. “Yeah.”

You had no doubt that this man, tall as he was, with his broad shoulders and the controlled way he carried himself, could’ve laid both of those drunken assholes onto their asses. His intimidating gaze had promised as much.

But his hands were gentle for you.

“I was about to win that game, no contest!” you said, laughing as you and Russell headed out of the bar and into the parking lot.

“Hey, hey, I still had time to win it back,” he argued. “I only had three more balls to go. I could’ve sunk that with my eyes closed.”

“Three balls, huh?” you said slyly, and maybe, a little tipsy. “Might wanna get that looked at.”

Russell snorted. “You think you’re funny, huh?”

“Hey, you laughed!” you said, pointing at him.

He shook his head, despite his amusement. He slowed to a stop in front of his car.

“Where’d you park, huh?” he asked.

“Over there,” you said, pointing several parking spaces down. Your eyes were drawn to his car, however. “Wow. This is your car?”

Russell grinned and patted the top of his black Chevy.

“Aw, yeah. That’s my baby,” he said. “She’s a Chevelle, 1967.”

You didn’t know much about cars, but you could see this was a classic beauty. You passed a hand over its sleek paint job without touching, so you didn't get any fingerprints on it. Though you quirked a smile over your shoulder at him.

“She?” you intoned.

“That’s right. She,” he confirmed.

You smirked and crossed your arms. You paused in front of the passenger door, and when Russell drew in closer, you had to crane your neck up to meet his warm gaze.

“Now, if I go in for a kiss goodnight, are you gonna deck me?” he asked, with a teasing glint in his eyes.

You tilted your head, your own eyes dancing.

“I’m sure you’re brave enough to find out,” you said.

Russell decided he’d take that bet.

He leaned in slowly. He made a show of hesitating, raising a brow, as if waiting for a blow. You were tempted to laugh.

But then he let loose a true smile, and he bowed his head to press his lips against yours. Your eyes fell shut, and your hands moved to flatten against his chest. A firm fucking wall. Jesus.

He circled his arms around your waist, bringing you in closer. Your fingers wound up in his hair, while he tilted his head to kiss you again. You met him with the same fervor with each new kiss, and the feel of your body, soft and pliant under his hands, each little sweet sound that you made, it all drove him to delve in deeper.

You moaned into his mouth at the first warm swipe of his tongue against yours. He tasted like the burn of good whiskey.

You pressed yourself flush against him on instinct. He found no other recourse but to back you up against the side of his car. His hand tangled into your hair, gripping, then easing through the soft strands.

Russell veered away from your soft mouth after a while, just to burn a line of warm, wet kisses along your jaw, and down your neck with the added rasp of his beard.

His lips found the sensitive spot where your neck met your shoulder. He kissed and sucked at your skin, even grazing with his teeth. You gasped softly in his ear, shuddering against him. You ran your hands over his shoulders and down his strong back out of a need to feel him.

His hands were heavy along the curve of your waist then, squeezing your hips. It all felt incredibly right. And by right, you meant body tingling, warmth churning in your lower belly, and wetness growing between your legs, for sure dampening your panties.

You tugged him back by his hair, so you could reach him for another steamy kiss.

“I’m staying at a motel, if you wanna…” he said, between kisses.

You paused against his lips, parting from him softly.

“Or not," he added. "Just thought I’d mention.”

You giggled, catching your breath, and then smoothing your hands down his chest. The faint throb of your core was telling you one thing, but the warning signals of your more cautious mind were telling you another. You thought for a moment…but then you sighed.

“How long are you really in town?” you asked.

His wet lips tugged to one corner, ruefully. “A few more days, probably.”

“Right,” you said with a frown. “Russell, I like you. I actually, I really do. If you were sticking around for a while, it’d be one thing. But you’re my best friend’s brother, and I—”

“No, I get it. I can’t predict when I’m gonna be able to swing back into town, and you’ve gotta live your life,” he said, but not without care. He curled an errant strand of hair behind your ear.

Your heart tugged, almost painfully.

“You’re a good guy, Russell Shaw,” you breathed. “Why can’t you be a good guy who’s staying?”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said. Then he cringed, knowing how you felt about sweethearting men. “Ah, sorry—”

You smiled and covered his mouth with your fingers.

“It’s okay. You have permission to sweetheart me.”

After blinking his surprise away, his face eased into a grin.

“Then I’ll wear that badge with honor,” he said.

Your shoulders shook with laughter when you let your forehead fall against his chest.

Russell remained what he had been throughout the entire night: a gentleman, who accompanied you over to your car.

After another stolen kiss or two in front of your sedan, you parted ways from him with a bit of a heavy heart. You wondered if you made the right decision, or if you should’ve just gone for it for once, instead of second-guessing yourself like usual.

You did know this. The rumble of his Chevelle driving down the opposite road would be imprinted on your memory.

When you returned home, you realized that the house was empty, and in complete darkness.

Charlie still wasn’t home.

Worried, you flicked on the lights and began to text his cell, only to find a note for you on the kitchen counter.

And it worried you even more.

I’m sorry. I’m going to make it right.

— C.

AN: 😬 Well then! lol We're diving straight into the drama and feels on this one. What did you think of her "barely a date" with Russell? 😂

And where do you think we're going next with Charlie?

Next Time:

Dory was sat next to you on the couch, rubbing your back with sympathy and concern in her own eyes.

“You should call the police,” she advised.

You’d thought of that, but if Charlie was doing something he wasn’t supposed to, then depending on what it was, you didn’t necessarily want him locked up in a cell. He wasn’t a bad person, he was just…lost. You wanted him to get help.

You set down the butterknife beside the jar and turned to her, after drying your eyes the best you could.

“Do you think your brother would be willing to come back to Wyoming?” you said. After a beat of hesitation, you specified:

“Colter, the tracker.”

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 2

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#reader appreciation #lovely mutuals #every second counts feedback #lovely review!! 💕💕

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laswells-ashtray · 3 days ago

Note

Sleepy 141 and co?

Instead of writing it as like a story, I'm just describing each of them at their sleepiest because it offers me more descriptiveness.

Price is always tired, to him the sheer weight of being alive is exhausting. But genuinely sleepy John becomes very quiet and he wishes everyone around him would do the fucking same. He'll sit filling out paperwork and when the blinks start to become the gateway into an involuntary nap he'll put on music to try and keep him awake with the noise. Around 40 minutes later Nikolai walks into his office to find John's face smushed into what is undoubtedly an important document as he snores and Nine Inch Nail's wax poetic about obsession in the horniest way possible in the background.

Ghost is used to being tired on missions but something about being back on base acts as a fucked up sense of comfort that turns him into a sleepy kitten. He just wants to find someone close to him, headbutt their chest and fall asleep. The 141 have their own little downtime room, Price claimed it under the guise of using it for important/ classified "no one can see" nonsense and they use it as a glorified living room. If Soap, Gaz or even Price is in there and sitting on the couch then he will just lie on their chest and conk the fuck out. Soap will just nap under him, Gaz will use his shoulders to rest his phone as he watches a YouTube video and Price will just rest the mug of the coffee he's probably drinking on Ghost's back. To be napped on by Ghost is an honour.

Soap is a sleep anywhere typa guy, if he's tired and can't be fucked walking all the way back to his room then he will just sit at a table with his head in his arms and nap. It hurts his back, it hurts his neck and it leaves his arms numb. He will not stop doing it. If you're sitting at the table with him talking then he will just wait for a break in the conversation to tell you he's going to nap and then get comfy before you can respond. Shameless napper. Also if you catch him at his sleepiest then his words are indecipherable.

Gaz is an "I'm not that tired" followed by an accidental 7-hour nap person. He never actually feels tired but if he closes his eyes then it's over. If they're in the heli coming back from a mission, he'll make a comment about how he's feeling surprisingly awake and then four and a half minutes later he's asleep like one of those babies that's soothed by being in the back of a car. He actually was one of those babies, if you wanted to get Kyle to sleep from birth to the age of six then you just put him in the back of a car and went on a ten-minute drive.

Nikolai, as I have said and stand by, is a cat. He's tired? Sorry, John is busy. Then he's nuzzling his face into that Englishman's chest until he's asleep. He's one sleepy day away from purring. He's naturally affectionate but when he's tired he's so close to John that you'd think that separating them would require surgery. John makes the mistake of trying to get up? Nuh uh, just because he's mostly unconscious it doesn't mean that he isn't just as strong. The captain isn't moving his pale English arse until Nik feels like it.

Laswell can function well while tired, plays it off almost expertly or so she thinks. She does not, she is so easily irritable when she's sleepy. If you aren't her wife, you're an enemy. She will kill. Even Shepard learned that there are limits to how much Kate will take when she's sleep-deprived. He got too snippy with her one time and she asked how his wife had been doing. He was newly divorced and Kate knew. But with her wife? She comes home while sleepy and finds her wife in the kitchen, by the time her wife is done cooking Kate is almost asleep standing against her back with her arms around her wife's waist. By the time her wife hauls her into bed, Kate is out of it. She gets her head on her wife's chest? She's out like a light.

Alejandro is so much more likely to agree to something while tired. He's less likely to get annoyed at rookies for mistakes, he'll just wave them away without a second thought. If you need him to say yes to something, ask when he's tired. Rudy is like two days away from getting him to sleepily agree to get a cat. He's also less likely to remember any conversation he has after a certain point of tiredness. Will agree to an entire day's worth of activities and only remember the next day when he's shown proof, a video where he does in fact agree to these things. Damn it.

Rudy's vocabulary is reduced to uh huh and vague grunts of agreement when he's tired. It's a language that only Alejandro truly understands. Soap asks him a question once when he's tired and Rudy just makes a noise back. Alejandro, without so much as looking up from his phone, translates. "Not tomorrow, he's doing one-on-one training with someone who's just back after being off with an injury but he can do it after three the next day." Rudy is a big fan of just smashing his face into a pillow and blocking out the world around him when tired but unsurprisingly he ends up asleep almost every time.

#captain john price #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #cod nikolai #kate laswell #alejandro vargas #rodolfo rudy parra #nikprice #john price #laswells wife #simon riley #john mactavish #kyle garrick #alerudy #rodolfo parra #id do more people but the leg my laptop is currently resting on is a minute away from going dead

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absurdthirst · 21 hours ago

Text

The Thanksgiving Departure {Dieter Bravo x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 14.7k

Warnings: Vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, family issues, heartbreak, alcohol, Dieter being a dick, revelations of infidelity, dishonesty, pregnancy, mentions of miscarriage, mentions of breeding kinks, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected sex

Comments: Married to Dieter Bravo, Thanksgiving turns into the worst day of the year when he abandons you to go to Hollywood for his big break. Never divorcing you and deciding to stroll back into your life on Thanksgiving again years later

Happy Thanksgiving!

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Dieter Bravo MasterList ||

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

Dieter sighs as he stares at his script. Another community theater project that he took when he got rejected from his latest audition for Law & Order. He rubs his forehead as the words blur together and he doesn't know how much longer he can do this. He wants to be successful. He wants to be famous...and rich. He can't do that in the middle of fucking nowhere. His hometown is picture perfect. Pumpkin patches in the fall, Christmas parade during December, flower show during spring. Town festivals and even a fucking gazebo in the town square. It's like a movie set but it's not the movie set he wants to be on. His entire life he's dreamed of Hollywood. His dad, before he died when Dieter was ten, showed him the greats. John Wayne. Cary Grant, Marlon Brando. He wants to be like them. A leading man. But he can't do that without going to L.A. "Hey baby." You coo as you walk into the kitchen, frowning when you see his script, "you want me to run lines?" You offer, leaning over to grab the papers, and he growls, shoving the papers across the table.

"No. No. I don't want to run fucking lines." His tone makes your eyebrows raise and you back away until he reaches for your hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it. "I'm sorry. Shit. I- I didn't get the part. The Law & Order part." He admits, feeling sorry for himself.

“Oh baby.” You soften slightly, knowing how much Dieter hates rejection. He wants so badly to be famous and you support him, but it’s honestly not realistic for where you live. Still, you encourage him to pursue his dreams. “They are missing out.” You step closer and wrap your arms around him to give him a hug from behind. “You are the best actor and would have made the show the highest rated episode of the season.”

Dieter huffs, shaking his head, "I love you, but don't flatter me now. I just - I want to give you the damn world and I can't do that stuck here. I know your mom is sick but baby, I want to go to L.A. I can do this. I know I can. I know I can make it." He whines, shaking his head and he turns his head to press his head against yours.

You sigh softly, knowing this is a conversation that has been going on for months. “I can’t- baby- mom needs us here right now.” You’ve been taking care of your mom for months, you and Dieter moving in and providing in-home care so she didn’t have to go into a care home. “When she’s better, we can look at moving out there.” You promise again. One thing that you love about Dieter is his persistence, but he’s also impatient. He doesn’t really want to wait, every day could possibly be his big break in his mind. “Besides, you don’t want to plan a move around the holidays.” You remind him. “Thanksgiving is in two days.”

Dieter doesn't respond, knowing that his dream is slipping away. Your mom doesn't seem to be getting better and you are young but everyone is asking when you're going to have kids. You just got married six months ago. He's not ready to have kids and all it takes is one slip up on your birth control and he's stuck in this two bit town. He pats your hand, "yeah. Yeah, of course. Let's focus on the holidays." He says but his tone doesn't match the smile he offers you.

You know he’s disappointed that you aren’t immediately jumping to pack your bags, but he will have to understand. “I’m baking your favorite pie.” You hum teasingly, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Right after mom’s appointment tomorrow and your mother has already said that she’s bringing the turkey.”

Dieter eyes the script and he wonders about the tape he sent off last week for the role in a new TV show about a detective. He took a chance and auditioned for the lead. It’s a pilot, but could be picked up and he doubts he will get the part. He taps his fingers against the table and turns his head to press his lips to yours. He loves you, he really does, but he feels trapped. “Come here.” He demands, wrapping his arm around you and dragging you into his lap. “Fucking love your pie.” He smiles and presses his lips to yours.

Melting into Dieter easily, you kiss him back, straddling him. Your mother is upstairs resting after a particularly rough day and she will be asleep for a few hours. “I love you.” You coo, grinding down on him with a smirk when he groans. “You want to have sex?” Dieter finds it sexy when you just bluntly ask, so you have taken to doing just that.

Dieter groans, sliding his hand down to squeeze your ass, “yes. Fuck yes.” He smacks your ass and kisses your jaw. “Here or you wanna go to our room?” He asks against our skin, wanting you to decide but he’s already hardening beneath you.

“Here.” Spontaneity has been a little lacking lately with your mother requiring a lot of your time and you know that Dieter will enjoy it. “You can think about it when we are eating dinner here with the family.” You tease.

“You’re too fucking good to me. Think about your pussy while eating your pie.” He teases as he slides his hand under your shirt, “get your damn jeans off.” He demands as he pulls your shirt over your head.

You bite your lip as you stand up, pushing away from him so you can get undressed. “Strip down baby.” You beg, wanting to see him. Dieter has an amazing body, lean and naturally athletic, every time you see him you get wet.

He doesn’t hesitate to pull his shirt over his head, tossing it on the floor, and he stands up to strip his jeans. He never wears underwear so he kicks them aside and sits back down to watch you strip while he wraps his fingers around his cock, pumping himself. “You’re so sexy.” He murmurs, dark eyes watching you with lust. You’re still in your honeymoon stage after six months of marriage and Dieter is always ready to fuck his wife.

“Me?” You snort and shoot him a playful wink. “I’m the one with a hot, actor husband.” You remind him, reaching up and cupping your tits. “You want to fuck me? Or you want me to ride that pretty cock of yours?”

He scoffs at your comment about him being an actor. He wishes. He’s a community theater actor at best. He reaches for you to drag you into his lap, “come here and ride my cock, my beautiful wife.” He demands, groaning when you straddle him and he bends down to take your nipple into his mouth after he cups your tit.

Passion is something Dieter has in spades. He never fails to make you fall deeper in love with him. It’s not like you haven’t been together since you were almost too young for love, but it just keeps growing. “Dee.” You moan, fingers sinking into his short hair. “You should grow your hair out so I can pull it.”

"Can't." He murmurs against your sternum, his face buried between your tits. "I need it short for the show." He presses a kiss to your skin before he lathes his attention on your other breast. His free hand squeezes your ass, "fuck, you're so gorgeous. Wanna eat you out later." He declares after he bites down on your nipple.

You hum, knowing that he can’t grow it out right now, but you would love it. “God, Dee.” You whimper happily, letting him do what he wants while you grind down on his hard cock and roll your hips. You are wet and getting wetter, but he will still stretch you out.

He doesn't want to hurt you if you aren't wet enough so he slides his hand down to cup your cunt, his fingers easily finding your clit to rub slow circles on it.

You moan his name again, loving how he is patient with you. It doesn’t hurt that he’s got a big cock and he knows it. He’s proud of that fact, even if neither one of you has slept with too many people. “God baby, you touch me so perfectly.” You praise breathlessly. “My husband.”

He kisses up your chest until he's pressing his lips to yours while he continues to rub your bundle of nerves. "My sexy, beautiful, smart as fuck wife." He murmurs against your chin and he is throbbing with need for you. "You ready for me?" He asks, his tone a little whiny as he aches for you.

“Yessss.” You hiss, reaching down to wrap your hand around his cock. “I want to ride you, baby.” You pant, lifting your hips as he pulls his hand away and you position him at your entrance.

Dieter hisses as you start to sink down onto him. You’re so fucking perfect and he has always thought it. Ever since you were kids. You’ve always been the most beautiful woman in the room. His hands are everywhere, sliding along your body until he squeezes your ass, letting you adjust while you take him inside your tight cunt.

Dieter always feels amazing, you moan his name as you squeeze him with your muscles. “Fuck I love you.” You pant, kissing along his neck when he turns his head. “You’re my forever baby.”

He groans, helping you rock on top of him, “fucking love you too. So much.” He murmurs, squeezing your ass and his hands slide up your back to pull you even closer as you move on top of him. You’re on your tiptoes as you lift up and slowly sink back down onto his cock. No one has ever made him feel like this, like he is home, but it’s still in the back of his mind to want more from his career.

You don’t know what is rolling through Dieter’s mind as you ride him. All you know is that he feels incredible and you love the way he moans. The way he kisses you. He’s always been a passionate person but he truly makes you feel cherished when he’s touching you, praising you. “I love you. I love how you feel inside me.” You moan, grinding down on him.

Your moan makes him twitch inside you and he watches you as you ride him, taking what you want from him. “Love you too, baby. Tell me - tell me how much you love me.” He whines slightly, needing reassurance from you. He can be insecure and considering his lack of money due to his chosen profession, he feels like he can’t provide for you like he should.

You can tell that he is needy right now and you press your lips to his briefly before you caress his cheek. "To the moon and back." You promise him. "The only one I will ever be married to."

Your words have his heart racing and his stomach clenching when you look into his eyes and you stare at him like he’s the only person in the world, in your world. He loves it and he surges forward to reclaim your lips, needing to be as close as possible to you at this moment.

You love when Dieter is like this, needy and greedy for you. Holding you tight and kissing you like you are the only woman in the world. Even if he dreams big, what you have is real, it’s not an act. You kiss him back just as eagerly, pouring your feelings for him into that simple act while you bounce on his cock.

You take him so well and he groans into your mouth, his tongue sloppily sliding against yours. His hands are everywhere, greedy for you, and he knows you’ll be by his side no matter what. He loves that about you. He tries to get as much of you as possible and it’s so not enough.

Both of you dissolve into moans and grunts of pleasure, the pace picking up to where your tits are bouncing and you feel like Dieter is in your guts. Breathlessly panting praise for him and how his cock feels into his mouth as you feel yourself getting closer and closer to cumming.

He needs to feel you fall apart for him so he slides his hand between you, finding your clit to rub the sensitive bundle of nerves and he groans when you fall apart for him within a few swipes of his fingers. You clamp down on his cock and soak him, collapsing against his chest and he moves fast to wrap his arms around your body, rocking you on top of him as he seeks his own orgasm.

Dieter is frantic and greedy, bordering on desperate as he starts to shuffle his hips up. “I love you, I love you, I love you!” You cry out, gasping as he pushes it towards overstimulation. “Cum for me, baby.”

He falls apart as the command leaves your lips. His cock twitching as he paints your walls with his hot seed. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” He pants as he stiffens beneath you, his face buried in your neck as he cums for you, only for you.

You whine softly, loving how you’ve stopped using condoms since you’ve gotten married. One day you will go off your birth control and start a family, but you’ve decided to wait until your mother doesn't need as much care and Dieter is better established. “I love you.” You whisper, running your fingers through his hair gently.

He pants, kissing your chin as he looks up at you, “love you too.” He murmurs, caressing your back as you embrace while the pleasure echoes through your bodies. He sighs and presses a soft kiss to your lips just as your mom calls your name from upstairs.

You sigh softly. “At least we finished this time.” You chuckle, kissing his lips again before you pull off his cock with a groan. “Coming!” You call up the stairs as you move to the sink to clean up quickly so you can redress.

Dieter sighs, shifting to grab his pants from the floor. He knows you are an incredible person to take care of your mom and moving in with her has helped you both to save up money, hopefully for a move to L.A, but his mother in law has been a cock block since he moved in. He watches you rush around and get dressed before you run upstairs and he redresses, looking down at the script on the table. The phone rings on the wall and he calls out “I’ll get it.” He answers and frowns when they say his name. It’s his agent. The one he’s scrapped money together to get some auditions booked. “You got it! You got the part!” He announces and Dieter’s eyes widen, “th-the lead?” He asks, wanting to confirm. “The lead!” His agent grins and Dieter’s heart thumps in his chest. He got the lead. He got it. He finally did it. He grabs a notepad to take down the details. “So you need to move to L.A. Read through for the pilot is the first week of December.” His agent says and after writing down the details, Dieter says goodbye. His grin makes his cheeks hurt and he shakes his head in disbelief.

When you come downstairs, his hands are shaking. “She wants some tea.” You announce as you walk to the stove and Dieter spins you around, pressing his lips to yours. “I did it!” He announces and you frown, “did what?” He chuckles, cupping your cheeks, “I got the part.”

“The part?” You’re confused for a moment before your eyes widen. “The part! That’s great baby!” You kiss him again.

“Yeah we have to be in L.A by December first.” He tells you excitedly, making your face fall into a frown. “In L.A?” You ask, hoping that he is joking. “Yeah, we can go out this weekend and see about getting a place.” He immediately starts rambling and you get more and more worried as he starts to plan out leaving and catching his big break before he finally takes a breath. “Baby….” You bite your lip. “I can’t move to LA. What about mom? What about our life here? My job?” You don’t want to say it out loud, but Dieter has never been the financially stable one of the two of you. You wanted him to chase his dreams and you had always thought once he got it out of his system, he would settle down.

His excitement falters and he stares at you, his brow furrowing. "I, uh, I thought this was always the plan. You know, us, moving to L.A. You working on your art. Me on acting. Our fucking dreams baby. Have you forgotten we have dreams?" He growls, stepping back from you, "or are we gonna fucking die in this goddamn town like our fathers?"

You rear back from the venom in his voice. “Of course I haven’t forgotten we have dreams.” You tell him, hating how he is looking at you. “But sometimes you have to put your dreams on hold. Mom is sick. What am I supposed to do? Leave her alone? Who would take care of her?” You demand. “How will you pay rent if the part falls through? Or the show isn’t picked up? We have stability here. I’m not saying we don’t dream, but I have responsibilities right now.”

Dieter frowns, taking in your words, and his heart breaks. He can’t follow his dream and be with you so he’s going to have to give up his dream. This is his chance, he feels it in his stomach, but he knows you won’t leave your mother. “I can’t stay here forever.” He murmurs, his dark eyes meeting yours.

“I promise it won’t be forever.” You murmur softly, relieved that he is seeing reason. You step closer and he’s not pulling away again. Reaching out and caressing his cheek gently. “Within the next couple of years, we will be chasing our dreams for real.”

Dieter nods despite the part being in the back of his mind but it’s Thanksgiving. Maybe you’ll see reason in a couple of days. He doesn’t phone his agent back to turn down the role, wanting to see how things go. You work on getting the tea ready for your mom and Dieter stands up, “I’ve got a rehearsal for the show later so I’m gonna go shower.” He leans in to kiss your cheek, heading upstairs to the bathroom with Hollywood in the back of his mind.

After taking your mother her tea, you start prepping Thanksgiving. It’s a huge relief to have your family bringing dishes so it’s not all on you. You know you will have a lot to do and taking care of things now will help. Humming to yourself as you make the pie Dieter loves, you smile to yourself. It’s going to be a wonderful holiday.

****

Dieter taps his fingers on the table, listening to your uncle ramble on about the election and he clenches his jaw, trying to not snap at him. "Did you vote for that piece of shit or not, Bravo?" Your uncle Frank asks and Dieter sighs, not wanting to get into an argument. "I don't really get into politics." He answers diplomatically and Frank scoffs, "if you guys value your future, you would pay more goddamn attention." Dieter picks up his glass of wine and takes a sip, glancing across the room to where you are rushing around to grab what everyone needs before you all sit down for dinner. "You need any help, babe?" He calls out and you shake your head, "no. No. I'm nearly done. Everyone sit down!" You demand and you carry the mac and cheese to the table while everyone admires the feast in front of them. Your mom wants to say grace so Dieter reluctantly takes your hand, keeping one eye open as he holds his mom's hand on the other side of him. Your mom clears her throat before she speaks, "thank you Lord for the food we are about to eat. Thank you for family, friends, and loved ones. Thank you for every day we wake up and see the sunshine. May we have many days to come." She finishes with a cough and Dieter sees a tear roll down your cheek and he lifts your hand to press a kiss to the back of it while everyone says "Amen." You clear your throat and smile, telling everyone to dig in.

The table is soon full of food and drinks and your aunt Susan decides to sour Dieter's mood. "So when are you planning on having kids? You two have been married for six months. I was five months pregnant by that stage." She giggles and turns towards you.

You feel Dieter tense beside you and your hand quickly slides under the table to squeeze his knee in reassurance. “We’ve decided to wait.” You remind everyone, the exact same thing you said when you were getting married. “Why? You’re married now, it’s time for you to start a family.” Frankie insists and you shake your head. “We have things we want to do before we have kids. If we even have them at all.” You add.

Frankie scoffs, "don't tell me that you are putting a family on hold so Dieter can become a fucking actor?" Dieter stiffens even more, knowing your uncle wasn't impressed by his career plans and thought he should get a real job to support you and any kids that come along. "I, uh, I got a part, actually. In a pilot, in L.A. It's about a detective." Dieter tries to defend himself and his mom chimes in with "really, baby? That's amazing. Oh I'm so proud of you." She coos, knowing how much her son wants to be an actor. Ever since he was a little boy it's been his dream but your family is relentless.

"Proud of him? What's he gonna do? Drag her to L.A and leave his mother-in-law when she's sick? She's got fucking cancer and her son in law is gonna fuck off so he can follow some dream and come crawling back here when he fails and get a damn divorce because he didn't put his goddamn family over his selfish ass. He will never be famous." Frankie shakes his head and Dieter drops his fork, shrugging off his mom when she rubs his shoulder and pushing your hand away.

“Uncle Frank, that’s enough.” You hiss, although you aren’t shouting because you want to keep the peace as much as possible. “No, it’s not nearly enough.” He snorts and you shake your head. “Your vision of our life doesn’t matter. If Dieter wants to try to make it big in Hollywood, you should be proud of that.”

"Don't." Dieter murmurs, clenching his jaw, and he shoves his napkin on the table, "I'm sorry. I - I gotta go to the bathroom." He declares and you frown, "babe" but he strides off without glancing back at you. He storms into your bathroom, leaning over the vanity to look at himself in the mirror.

"I have a fucking role. I know I can do it. I know I can be an actor. Just need a fucking chance." He hisses through his teeth. "All I need is a chance. I'll fucking prove that asshole wrong." He growls to himself and glances at his toothbrush sitting next to yours. He will never make it in Hollywood if he stays here. He will never prove them wrong. You'll get pregnant and he will give up on his dream. He'll lose his hair, go grey, get wrinkles, and a beer gut like every other fucker in this town. He will be a loser just like them. "I'm not a fucking loser." He mutters and grabs his toothbrush.

“Why do you have to be an asshole?” You hiss to your uncle as everyone else shifts uncomfortably. “The boy has to face reality.” Frank insists, frowning heavily. “He’s not going to be an actor. He needs to get a better job to support you instead of you paying all the damn bills and running yourself ragged while he pretends to work at that stupid little community theatre.”

Dieter rushes around your bedroom, packing essentials, and he grabs a piece of paper from your nightstand, scribbling out a message to you. You'll come to find him any second so his handwriting is awful. He slings his duffel bag over his shoulder and looks at the bed you share. Hopefully you understand why he's doing this. He loves you but he needs to do this for himself. He has to prove everyone wrong. He hesitates for a second when he sees your wedding photo as he turns towards the door and he sighs, shaking his head before he makes his way downstairs quietly. "You need to dump his ass. That Grayson boy wanted to marry you and he works at his daddy's dealership. He's got a career and he's gonna be a big deal in this town. Should've married him." Frank scoffs and Dieter swallows harshly, making his way down the hall to the front door. He opens it softly and steps outside, the cold air making him shiver and he gets in his car, not hesitating as he backs out the driveway and begins his journey. "L.A here I come." He mutters, knowing he will return to his hometown a fucking Oscar winner.

You finally have to leave the table. Not even your mother chiding your uncle has helped and you are sick of his damned opinions. “Dee?” You knock on the door to your shared bedroom, wanting to give him a chance to compose himself if he’s upset. He’s a lot more sensitive than most would believe. “Baby….” You open the door and frown when you don’t see him sitting on the bed and looking miserable. “Hun?” The bathroom light is off and you sigh. Thinking that maybe he had gone outside until you spot the paper on the bed. Stomach sinking in dread, you stare at it for a moment before you reach for the slip of paper. Hand trembling, you unfold it and see that Dieter has scrawled “I can’t wait for my dreams. I’m sorry.” You choke back a sob, realizing that he’s left and you don’t even know when he’ll be home.

****

"Fuckkkkk yessss." Dieter groans as he watches the woman take his cock into his mouth while her boyfriend slides into her from behind. It's a naughty sight he's familiar with and he fucking loves it. "Look so fucking gorgeous." He coos and the man smirks, "says the Oscar winning actor and People's Sexiest Man of the Year 2023." Dieter smirks, chest puffing slightly as the woman giggles as she squeezes his cock. "should get best cock of the year too." She coos and Dieter caresses her cheek, "fuck. You two are gonna make me cum with words." He smirks, "you free next weekend?" He asks, wanting to spend more time with his co-stars.

"We are going to New York. It's - fuck - Thanksgiving." The man reminds Dieter who frowns as his cock is pushed further down the woman's throat. Thanksgiving. Something he hasn't celebrated in the years since he left you during the middle of dinner. His assistant has probably booked for him to go to Hawaii again. "Guess I'll see you when you get back." He says and smirks when he shifts onto his knees to kiss his co-star.

****

"What do you mean the fucking flight is canceled?" Dieter growls at the check in assistant at the first class desk. He would travel private but holidays are fucking expensive. "I'm sorry, Mr. Bravo, but the flights have been canceled to Hawaii. The fires..." She trails off and Dieter scoffs, "what a joke. So what the fuck am I gonna do?" He asks her, eyebrows raised above his aviators. "We can get you a flight somewhere else. Or a refund. If you want to go somewhere, this flight is leaving at the same time as your previous flight." She turns the screen and his jaw drops when he sees the flight is to his hometown. "No. No. Not there. Anywhere but there." He demands and she nods, "I can issue a refund but-" Dieter cuts her off, "actually. Get me a ticket. First class." He demands, remembering that he hasn't seen his mom in years and his co-stars talked about how nice it is to go home for the holidays. He will go home and show everyone in that fucking town that he's back. The Oscar Winning Actor who won Sexiest Man of the Year 2023 is fucking back. "There you go, Mr. Bravo. Enjoy your trip." She hands him the ticket and he smirks, "oh I will."

****

“Mom, I really don’t feel like celebrating this year.” It’s the same comment you make every year, but you are always overruled. “Don’t be ridiculous.” True to what you had told Dieter, your mother had beaten cancer and was now happily in remission. You still live with her, not because you are taking care of her, but because you didn’t want to live alone after Dieter had left you. “Don’t worry, I’ve already invited Sean.” She assures you. “And Debra won’t mind him being there.” You roll your eyes, wishing that Dieter’s mother wasn’t also your mom’s best friend and automatically invited to every family event. Even if you were technically still family since Dieter would never sign the damn divorce papers.

Dieter takes his glasses off his face when he rings the doorbell of his childhood home and his mom answers within a few moments. "Dieter?" She gasps, shocked to see her son, "hi mom." He smiles and she squeals, surging forward to wrap her arms around his neck. "You're home. I can't believe it." She cries and Dieter embraces her. Despite his playboy reputation in L.A, he's always been a momma's boy. "I missed you. Let me look at you." She cups his cheeks and frowns, "you don't eat enough and you pierced your ear. And got more tattoos." She tuts, "but other than that, you are my boy." She kisses his cheek and lets go of him when he flushes, "mom." She steps back and ushers him inside, "come in, come in. I'm just cooking." Dieter follows her inside the familiar home and it hasn't changed.

"I'm just cooking for the dinner tomorrow." She explains and Dieter raises his eyebrows, "dinner?" She nods and says your mom's name, "it's Thanksgiving." She says with a giggle, "silly goose." Dieter frowns, "I, uh, I should probably stay here. I'll be fine." He promises and his mom nods, "yeah. She will be there." His mom never mentions your name on the phone when she discusses her best friend and her life. He heard about your mom beating cancer and he took a hit of coke to celebrate. "She's engaged. So it's probably best that you don't go." She says, still protective over you despite Dieter being her son. She was shocked when you came back in to announce that Dieter had left and she wanted to slap him silly for leaving the best thing to ever happen to him. Even if he was preoccupied with his dreams. "Engaged?" Dieter chokes, knowing he has no right to be shocked but his stomach twists. "She's happy." His mom says and Dieter scoffs, "happy. Still in this damn town. She can't be happy. Who's she engaged to?" He asks and Debra sighs, "Sean Grayson. He's good for her. Baby, I know...I know you left and wow, you've made me so proud seeing you as an Oscar winner and all but...it's time to let her go." She reaches for his hand and Dieter pulls his hand away before she can touch him.

"I want to meet him. I'm going to dinner." He declares, spinning on his heel to call around, see if he can at least get some weed from someone around town. "Oh boy." Debra mutters, knowing this year will be drama filled but maybe it will be good for everyone to get closure.

Waking up on Thanksgiving is always so damn surreal for you. You dread the day, wouldn’t do anything but hide in your bed if you had your way, but you can’t do that. Your mom only let you have the first year after Dieter left to sulk. After that, she had decided Thanksgiving would go on, and so would you. So you just wake up and stare at the ceiling, knowing that this would be the last year you would sleep in this bed. The same one you shared with Dieter although you had replaced the mattress five years ago. “Fuck.” You groan, looking over at the nightstand where another copy of the divorce papers are waiting to be mailed after the holiday.

Dieter wakes up with a groan as his mom bangs on the door to his childhood bedroom. "Dieter! We are leaving in twenty minutes!" Debra shouts through the door and Dieter winces as he rubs his cheek. "Ugh, shit." He rasps as he glances at the clock. It's nearly eleven. He managed to find some weed last night. Ironically the dealer was the same kid who would sell weed in high school and he was shocked when Dieter met him. "No way man, I fucking loved you in Hunger Strike. Here, some E on me." He shoved the baggies at Dieter who offered him a polite smile and paid him before smoking in his room like he used to do when he was sixteen. He rolls out of bed and showers, groaning at his reflection. He's older, wrinkled, graying hair. Everything Frank said he would be but he's famous. He's successful. That's all that matters and today, he gets to show that to everyone who doubted him. He dresses in nicer jeans and a button down, wanting to appear successful since they cost more than someone's rent for the month. "You ready, mom?" He asks and Debra nods, "are you ready?" She emphasizes and Dieter smirks, "let's go."

Even though you would rather be anywhere else, you come downstairs dressed nicely and make sure that you put on makeup this morning. Sean likes when you dress up for him and since this is the first Thanksgiving spent with him here, you make the effort. Hours later, it is almost time for everyone to arrive and you are putting your pie in the oven.

The drive to your mom's house is quiet and Dieter looks out at the town he left in the dust. It hasn't changed and he is nervous. He knows you must hate him. You've sent him divorce papers several times throughout the years but he has never signed them. He doesn't really know why. Sometimes he's gotten high or drunk and signed them but never mailed them. Sometimes he's ripped them up and had his assistant overnight them back to you. He should give you a divorce but he can't do it. Even if he doesn't know why. Pulling up on the familiar driveway, he adjusts his sweater and follows his mom to the front door, bracing himself as she rings the doorbell.

“I’ll get it!” You just texted Sean, so you are pretty sure that it’s Debra. If you can get the talk about Dieter out of the way before he gets here, you would feel a lot better. The last thing you want to do this year is be reminded all day that your husband left you. “Hi, Deb-“ your smile freezes as you open the door to your mother in law and find not only her, but your absentee husband standing on the doorstep with a disgustingly charming smile on his handsome face. “What the fuck?”

Dieter slides his eyes down your body, taking in the sight of you after so many years apart and God, you’re just as fucking beautiful. But you are glaring at him like he just shot your dog and he guesses he deserves that. “Hi honey. I’m home.” He jokes, unable to do anything else right now.

“Are you delivering the divorce papers in person?” You demand and he huffs, crossing his arms over his chest defensively. “What divorce papers?” He feigns ignorance and Debra chuckles awkwardly. “Now, now, it’s Thanksgiving!” She reminds both of you before she calls out to your mom. “Where do you want the casserole?” She slides by you into the house and leaves you staring at Dieter.

“I wanted to come home and see everyone. Is there something wrong with that?” Dieter continues to smile, loving how affected you seem to be by his appearance. “I missed my mom’s casserole.” He pouts, “and you.”

You rock your jaw, seeing how Dieter’s smile has shifted to a smirk. “Missed me?” You snort and you know that you have to let him in or risk causing a scene. “I doubt that. Where’s that fitness model you were dating? And the hotel concierge?” You watch him shift and his arms drop to his sides, telling you when he’s feeling guilty. “Guess they couldn’t make it?” You don’t invite him in, but you turn and just walk away with the door still open.

Dieter clenches his jaw, knowing his flings have been well broadcasted and his relationship with Anika fell apart because she wanted to get married and he couldn’t explain why he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t tell her he was already married. He huffs and strides into your house, one he knows well but there are differences in decor since he was last here. Shutting the door behind him, he follows you down the hall into the living room where your family is gathered. “Uncle Frank.” Dieter grins, walking over to the old man to slap him on the back, “so good to see you.”

Your uncle Frank’s eyes widen in shock when he turns to see the man he had once called a loser standing next to him. Dieter is successful, famous and rich. He chokes out a “Dieter,” without swallowing his tongue. “You’re here for Thanksgiving?”

Dieter wishes there was a camera to take a photo of the man who ridiculed him so many years ago for chasing his dream. Dieter nods, “yes. Figured I’d come home and see everyone. How you doing?” He asks and Frank chokes out “I’m the same.” Dieter tuts and shakes his head, “that’s a shame. You’ve done nothing with your life.” He mocks and your aunt Susan comes over to him, “you were amazing in Hunger Strike. You really deserved the Oscar.” She says and Dieter grins, standing straighter, “yeah. Thanks. I, uh, I worked my ass off on that role.”

You walk into the kitchen, seething in anger that Dieter just waltzes back into your life and now it could ruin everything. “Why the fuck is he here?”

Your mom sighs, “I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t know Deb was bringing him. Hell, I didn’t even know he was back home. What - what are you gonna do? Sean is arriving any minute.” As soon as she says that, the doorbell rings.

“Oh shit.” Your eyes close in frustration and you rush out of the room to open the door before anyone else. Luckily Dieter is letting your aunt fawn and coo over him, as if she’s not completely aware that he had broken your heart.

Dieter watches you rush past the living room down the hall and he offers your aunt a smile as she gushes over his movies. This is what he wanted. To return to adoration. To come back be someone. Not a loser. His grin is cocky as he accepts her praise until you walk into the living with Sean Grayson behind you. He hated that kid in high school. He was a jock who’d make fun of Dieter for being the weird theater kid.

“Listen, I don’t think it’s a good idea if we stay.” You murmur to Sean. “Don’t be ridiculous.” He huffs. “I’ve been looking forward to Thanksgiving with your family.”

Your family, especially Uncle Frank, all coo over Sean as he strides into the living room and your uncle reaches out to shake his hand. “So glad you could come.” He grins and Dieter rolls his eyes, he’s never been greeted like that by your asshole uncle. Sean makes the rounds to say hello until he’s facing Dieter. “Oh. Wow. Bravo. You’re back in town.” Sean says and Dieter nods, holding out his hand, digging his rings into his flesh a little harder than normal. “Yep. Back in town. Figured I’d have a small town Thanksgiving for once instead of trying to cool down in Hawaii.”

You bite your lip and watch your fiancé interact with your technical husband. He smiles that smarmy smile you’ve noticed he’s developed over the years when you’ve accidentally seen interviews and articles with him in them. The one that you can tell is fake. “I need a drink? Does anyone need a drink?” You ask. “Sean, why don’t you come help me, sweetheart?”

Dieter watches you walk off with Sean and Uncle Frank nudges the actor. “New man on the scene. You know, his daddy gave him the dealership. Boy is making good money and he bought her a hell of a ring. Much nicer than that tin you gave her.” Frank snorts and Dieter clenches his jaw and gives him a tight smile. “I wasn’t rich then. I could buy her a million dollar ring and still not touch the sides.”

“But why would you?” He asks. “You’re banging everything you can get your hands on. We aren’t so small town that we don’t know what you’re doing in Hollywood.” In the kitchen, you are rushing to get the wine glasses while Sean gets the wine. “I can’t believe Bravo came.” Sean snorts. “Got to be a shock to see your ex-husband here.”

Dieter snorts, wishing he had a cigarette or something to distract himself from the hell he volunteered for. He imagined you would be grateful for his return and he’s found you engaged to a fucking asshole who used to bully him. “True. You know, I was in a throuple.” Dieter smirks, “wore me out and I ended it because I needed to give my body a break, if you know what I mean.” He smirks, crossing his arms over his chest.

Frank curls his lip and turns away from Dieter, moving over towards his wife and leaning in to whisper something in her ear. “Yeah- uh, it’s kind of a shock.” You tell Sean, quickly opening the bottle he opened and pouring out drinks. “Just- um, please don’t talk about the wedding or anything?” You beg him. “I don’t want Dieter to try to bring up the past today. I don’t know if I can handle it.” Sean knows all about Dieter leaving you on the holiday and has been supportive of you so far. You can only hope that Dieter doesn’t run his fucking mouth. You’ve never actually told Sean you are still married to the actor, assuming he would get bored of whatever little game he had been playing and sign the damned papers. The judge wouldn’t grant you a divorce without Dieter present because of his fame and the wealth he has, despite you promising the old coot you just wanted the divorce. He had also been the one to marry you and Dieter forever ago and had a history of no divorces amongst the couples who had been married by him. It makes you want to tear your hair out.

Sean nods, coming over to you so he can rub your upper arms. “Don’t worry, baby. It’s gonna be okay. We won’t let him ruin this holiday again.” Sean murmurs, leaning in to kiss your forehead. “Just ignore him and if you want, I’ll kick his ass.” Sean smirks, “been wanting to do it since high school anyway.”

You frown slightly, hearing an anticipation in Sean’s voice that you didn’t like. You know they didn’t get along in high school, but that was so long ago. “No, nothing like that.”

Sean nods, "fine. Let's get a drink and ignore his ass." Sean reaches for a bottle of beer and opens it, talking a gulp. Meanwhile, Dieter is thanking your mom when she hands him a glass of white wine. He wishes it was stronger but he doesn't want to get sloppy. Today, he's here to show everyone that they were wrong.

You try not to even look at Dieter when you come back into the room, reassured by the kiss shared in the kitchen and the weight of Sean’s hand on your waist. “Dinner should be ready in fifteen.” You tell everyone, smiling but avoiding looking over towards Dieter and Debra.

Dieter's gaze drops to the hand on your waist and he shifts from one foot to the other. He knows he has no claim over you but he feels jealous. He talks to his mom who smiles at him, happy he's home, and finally, everyone is sitting down for dinner.

"So, Bravo, why'd you come back? To this town?" Sean asks after you walk into the kitchen to grab the salt and pepper. "To see my mom. To see everyone since I've been gone for so long." Dieter answers and Sean snorts, "yeah. Years. Looks like you've been busy too. Work wise and with partners." Dieter snorts, "true. I have been very busy." He smirks, "that's why I came home. I needed rest."

You look down at your plate after sitting down, pretending not to care about the conversation but it stings. A knife to your chest just like that time….you reach for your glass and take another gulp of your wine. Dieter had moved on, obviously, and so have you. It does no good to delve into the past. “Well, our small town is the perfect place for rest.” You manage brightly, picking up your fork again.

Dieter hums, “that it is. That it is.” Sean narrows his eyes slightly when he sees the way Dieter looks at you. “So what are your plans? Just hanging around? Or you gonna go out? We don’t need the town to be disrupted.” He bites at Dieter who chuckles and nods, “I’m used to signing autographs and taking photos. I just don’t want fans to be stalking me. I’ve had some issues back home with fans following me home. I did take one to bed once but she ended up being crazy.”

You shudder, forking up a bite of your food and holding it at your mouth. “I’m sure that after tonight Dieter will go back to LA where he belongs.” You look towards your fiancé. “Our small town is boring and there’s nothing here for him.” You’ll give him the papers again when Sean leaves.

Dieter shakes his head, “I wouldn’t say that. This town has its charms.” His dark eyes focus on you, “but enough about me. What about you two? Tell me how you met.” He orders, setting his fork down to take a sip of wine.

You are about to change the subject, but Sean actually reaches over and squeezes your knee. “Well, her car was on its last leg, a rolling road hazard really, so she came in to find another vehicle.” Sean explains. “Since dad turned over the dealership to me, I find that I actually like to be on the sales floor. I sold her on the idea of that pretty little car in the driveway and a date.” He chuckles at his own joke and you smile at him when he looks over, although your appetite is gone and your stomach is in knots.

Dieter chuckles, a fake smile on his face as he looks at you. You look a little sick, definitely look like you want to floor to swallow you up. “And do you make her cum?” Dieter asks bluntly, “because she used to love it when I ate her out.”

“Dieter!” His name is not only hissed by you, but by his mother, and your own. Your aunt gasping and your uncle grumbling about degenerate behavior while you wish you could just disappear. Sean stiffens but he looks over at you and smirks. “Well, I’m the one taking care of her now.” He turns back towards Dieter. “And I’m not talking about my fiancée like that.”

Dieter falters for a second upon hearing you’re engaged to that asshole but he recovers and smirks back, “so you eat her ass? She used to love that. Would make her drip onto the bed sheets.” He continues to push the boundaries and his mother slaps his arm, “I cannot believe you. Be quiet.” She pleads but Dieter stares at Sean, silently challenging the man you’re engaged to.

Your face feels like it’s on fire, thoroughly embarrassed by Dieter’s childish behavior and the very personal questions. Sean snorts and shakes his head. “You’re something else, Bravo.” He tells him. “It’s a good damn thing she didn’t stay in LA with you. You would have mortified her in interviews.”

Dieter leans back in his chair, his brow furrowing, "what are you talking about? She didn't come to L.A." He scoffs, "she never wanted to come to L.A. She wanted to stay in this shithole town and have babies and die having never achieved anything."

Sean frowns and looks at you. “I thought you said you met up with him in LA to give him the divorce papers?” He asks and you huff out a nervous smile. “I mean- I did, but I-“ Dieter chuckles. “Nope. Never happened.” He announces. “Dieter-“ you try to stop him, but he just smirks at Sean. “We’re still married.”

Dieter watches Sean's face drop and he chuckles, "she didn't tell you? She's still Mrs. Bravo." He reveals and his mom nudges him but this moment is so satisfying. To see that smug look fall from that asshole’s face. "We don't have a pre-nup so it's not financially viable for me to divorce."

“You told me you were divorced.” Sean’s eyes narrow towards you and you know that he’s pissed. “Baby, I’ve been trying to-“ “You know how I feel about shit like that!” He hisses, his chair scraping the floor as he pushes back from his plate quickly. “You’ve been lying to me. I can’t-“ he shakes his head and stalks around the table to edge towards the door. Leaping up, you rush after him, hoping you can explain.

Dieter smirks and his mom slaps his arm again, “why would you do that?” She asks and Uncle Frank scoffs, “because he’s an asshole.” Dieter hums, feeling satisfied to make Sean angry. “Well, let’s not let the food go to waste.” He declares and digs back into his food.

Outside you are chasing after Sean. “Wait! I can explain.” You tell him, making him stop and spin around. “You can explain how you’ve been lying to me?” He demands, his face showing how hurt and upset he is. You sigh. “I’ve been trying to divorce Dieter since I went to LA. But he refuses to do anything with the papers I’ve sent his lawyer, his agent, him directly.” You wave your arm around in frustration. “And the judge will not do anything until he does sign them!”

“So you accepted my proposal knowing you are already married? What were you gonna do? Be a bigamist?” He hisses and you shake your head, tears in your eyes. “I can’t- I can’t marry someone who lies to me and I need time. I- I’ll call you later.” He shrugs off your touch when you reach for him and he stomps over to his car, getting in and speeding off down the road.

You watch the car for a moment, angry and hurt, even though you know that he is right. You lied to him, afraid of losing the first stable relationship since Dieter had left you. Walking back inside, you find Dieter calmly eating Thanksgiving dinner like he hadn’t just turned your life upside down again. “Thanks for that, you fucking selfish prick!” You yell. “Why did you even come back here now? To ruin Thanksgiving for me all over? Mission accomplished!” You turn back around and rush out of the house again, tears streaming down your face.

Dieter scoffs and stands up, following you outside because he needs to say what he’s been thinking since he arrived. You spin around when you see him, telling him to leave you alone. “Like you really wanted to marry that prick. He just wants you to be a homemaker. Pop out his babies. He doesn’t care about you. He doesn’t care about your dreams. I did, remember? But you didn’t follow your dreams. You stayed here to fucking rot in this fucking town.” Dieter growls, “you’re the one who gave up on us. Not me. I left to do what we always said we’d do. I had the balls to follow my dreams.”

“Fuck you.” You hiss, glaring at him and wanting so back to slap him. “Apparently following your dreams was also fucking other people!” You watch as his eyes widen and you laugh at the irony. “I went to LA, Dieter! A week after you mailed me your apartment key, I flew out to surprise you. Mom had just been told the cancer treatment had been successful and I wanted to tell you in person.”

Tears are streaming down your face as you tell him. “I crept into the apartment only to find your dick down some bitch’s throat while her boyfriend was fucking her. Allllllll while you moaned about how you were going to fuck them both. So I left.”

He flinches, remembering that night, and he wondered why his door was unlocked at the time but figured his guests hadn’t locked it. “I- I- what was I supposed to do? You didn’t want me. You made it clear that I didn’t matter when I got the part and you refused to follow me. Your mom could’ve come with us. I don’t - I refuse to apologize for living my damn life.” He growls back before he swallows and slumps, “I’m sorry. I- fuck - okay? I’m so goddamn sorry. I missed you. Whenever I got drunk, I’d pick up the phone and call you and you’d answer and - and I’d lose my shit and hang up. I fucked up. I shouldn’t have left but I achieved my dream. I couldn’t stay here and be called a loser by your family anymore. I had to prove myself and my chance came. I had to take it. No matter the cost.”

“No matter the cost.” You nod, feeling deflated. “That cost was our marriage. But I guess it was worth it, right?” You ask. “You get to fuck whoever you want, everyone wants to fuck an Oscar winner.” You turn around and rush off, wanting to be alone.

He lets you walk away this time, knowing how you feel and he can tell you hate him. He’s ruined everything for you because he was selfish and wanted to achieve his dreams. Your mom was sick, he should’ve stayed, but it’s too late to turn back the clock. He watches you walk off and feels a hand on his shoulder. It’s your mom. “I- I’m sorry. I ruined her life.” He murmurs and turns to look at his mother in law.

“You know, I was so angry when you left. On Thanksgiving of all days. She fell apart. Wouldn’t speak to me. Just helped me get better and I wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for her, but I feel guilty. She never got to achieve her dreams. I held her back. And to know that I could’ve stopped you from your success is equally as bad. I hate you for leaving her but I love you for accomplishing your dream. When I was sick, I had so many regrets. I had to face death and I realized I didn’t do anything that I set out to do. After you left, I decided to do all the things that I wanted to do when I was better. I did all that and it’s because of you. If it weren’t for you, I’d still be regretting all the things I didn’t do. You are a great actor, Dieter, but right now, you need to be yourself and be honest. Do you want to be married to my daughter when you are in L.A and she has found someone who can give her what she needs? She wants children. She wants to be happy. She can’t do that if she’s constantly clinging to the past. Do the right thing.” She urges and Dieter sighs, leaning in to kiss her cheek. “I’ll go talk to her.” He promises, knowing where you are. Where you used to go. It doesn’t take long to walk to the park, finding you on the swing set you’d hang out at as kids.

You sniff as you kick at the rubber that they replaced the old sand with. It’s not nearly as satisfying as you had thought when you got to tell Dieter off and him being here has stirred up emotions you had thought you had buried deep enough. Sean is a good guy, but he isn’t Dieter. He doesn’t dream with you, and he can be annoyingly practical all the time. You hate how your heart had kicked in your chest when you opened the door to see your husband standing there. As if you sense his presence, you look up to see him walking towards you. Making you sigh softly and kick off to start swinging.

Dieter approaches you cautiously, not wanting to be screamed at again, and he sits down on the swing next to you. “Your mom talked to me. She’s still the same. Like my second mom.” He chuckles and glances at you until he turns his gaze to the falling leaves. “I’m sorry I’m such an asshole. I have been selfish and I shouldn’t have left. I should’ve stayed. Talked to you. Made a plan together.” He inhales deeply, “I’ll sign the papers. No arguments. I’ll let you go so you can be happy with Sean.”

You sigh, continuing to swing as you absorb what he is saying. “It doesn’t matter now.” You finally admit. “Sean’s first wife had an affair so he hates liars and cheaters.” You snort to yourself. “And technically, I’m both.”

“I’m sorry. I’ve really fucked up your life. I’ll sign the papers and get you one of those uh, what is it the models want, a Birkin bag.” He teases and you roll your eyes. “I won’t fuck your life any more. I’ll sign the papers.” He promises softly.

“Why wouldn’t you sign them before now?” You ask. “Seriously? I asked for nothing. Not one dime. No spousal support, no alimony, nothing. But you wouldn’t sign them while you were galavanting around the world and having public relationships with models.”

He looks down at his hands, the tattoo he got when he was eighteen of the circle you’d draw on his hand during class. He rubs the circle and sighs, “because I never stopped loving you. I know you won’t believe me and I’m not asking for anything but I thought if I signed the papers…it’s over. We are over. I didn’t want to face that when no one in Hollywood ever loved me. Not for me. Not like you did. I love you and I was selfish to keep you trapped in our marriage while I did whatever I wanted, whoever I wanted. I’ll sign the papers and I’ll talk to Sean. Tell him it was my fault. I threatened you to not sign the papers because I- I don’t know, because I didn’t want to give you any money. I’ll take the blame and you can be single and marry him, if that’s what you want.”

“You know you broke my heart, when you left?” You ask softly. “That's why I wouldn’t talk to you in the beginning. I was upset. If you had just talked to me about a plan that didn’t just include dropping everything, I would have gone along.” You continue to swing as you talk. “I wanted to be with you in LA. Wanted to help you make your dream come true, but you didn’t need me. You had everyone else.”

Dieter shakes his head, flexing his fingers, “everyone else?” He scoffs, “no one really wanted me. They wanted fame, money, connections. They didn’t give a fuck about me. The real me. I had to get lost in the haze of drugs and booze to feel something. No one has ever made me feel like you do.” He admits, “no one ever came close to you.”

“Poor Dieter.” You don’t murmur it sarcastically like you probably should have, despite everything you have to admit to yourself that you still love him. “You have everything you wanted and are more alone than ever.”

He knows he should put his walls back up and say his life is amazing but he is exhausted from pretending. “No one loves me. Not really. They only love what I can give them.” He sighs and rubs his hands.

“Your mom loves you.” You point out, even though you know that’s not what he means. Dieter huffs and you smile at his pout. “I still love you.” You admit. “It’s why I’m so fucking angry at you.”

Dieter clicks his tongue, “you still love me? Why? I’ve treated you like shit. Worse than shit. You should hate me. Fuck, I hate me.” He confesses, staring at the tarmac beneath his feet. “You deserve everything.”

“You can’t help who you love, Dieter.” You remind him, scoffing at both of you. “You broke my heart and refused to let me move on, but I watched the Oscars the night you won.” You confess. “Got drunk when I saw you making out with that model at the Vanity Fair after party.”

“I had - my PR needed me to date and make a name for myself until it became about me helping those girls make a name for themselves. I didn’t connect with anyone. Never had a relationship. Just one night stands. It was never serious. It was never you.” He closes his eyes and sighs.

“There’s no way I could compete with those women.” You scoff. “And men. They are gorgeous.”

Dieter chuckles humorlessly, "pretty but so fucking dumb. Trust me, baby. None of them had a lot of brain cells. They are beautiful but none of them wanted to talk about life. They just wanted to be seen with me and go on their way when they got what they wanted."

Some might call you stupid, but you feel bad for him. Dieter has always had this need to feel love, to be connected to someone. “I’m sorry that fame hasn’t been all you thought it would be.” You murmur. “I know that after I came back from LA, I- I just lost my passion. I couldn’t work on my art anymore. Everything was just dismal.”

“The grass ain’t always greener, huh?” He snorts and kicks his feet as he swings. “I’m sorry. I sent you that key when I was high and I always miss you when I’m high. I wanted to see you and figured that was one way to get you to L.A. I didn’t know…fuck, I wish I’d known.” He admits, “I, uh, I haven’t been with anyone for six months. Kinda lost the appeal. Casual sex. I miss how we used to be. Our sex.” He confesses, glancing at you.

“We had great sex.” You admit, never telling Sean that he didn’t quite measure up to your ex. That would have been wrong. “Maybe too good of sex.” You sigh again. “A month after you left, I found out I was pregnant. Or I thought I was.”

Dieter’s eyes widen, “you thought you were-? Did you-? I mean, I completely understand if you decided to, you know.” He finishes softly, his stomach twisting.

“No.” You quickly shake your head. “I, uh, lost the pregnancy a couple of weeks later.” You had confirmed with your doctor that it was likely you were in the early stages but it obviously wasn’t meant to be. He told you that stress could have caused it, or there was something wrong with the baby to not be viable. Either way, it had felt like the universe was telling you to let Dieter go. And then a month later you found him fucking another couple.

He hates that he wasn’t there, that he possibly caused it if you were upset by him leaving. “I’m so sorry.” He murmurs, “I know - there’s nothing I can say that will make that better or make it right.” He reaches for your hand to squeeze it, “I ruined your life. Your happiness.”

It’s the first time Dieter has touched you since he left so many Thanksgivings ago, but your heart still pounds and your skin tingles. “I wish we could have done things differently.” You squeeze his hand back gently.

Dieter nods, “me too. I wish I hadn’t fucked up. You are the best thing that ever happened to me.” He confesses and kisses the back of your hand, “even better than an Oscar, but…that time of our lives is over now. I know you can’t forgive me. I’ll sign the papers.” He promises, letting go of your hand.

You frown to yourself as you wrap your hand around the chain for the swing and push off again. “Do you remember that weekend we each told our parents we were going to stay at a friend’s house and we went to that little cabin your grandfather owned?”

Dieter frowns, the memory is one that got buried beneath the haze of drugs and booze but he remembers. “Yeah. Our first time.” He smiles, fondly reminded of the night you first slept together. “It was so fucking cold and I couldn’t get the fire started. Turns out having sex is a great way to keep warm.” He chuckles, starting to swing alongside you.

“That was the day I decided I was going to marry you.” You hum at the memory, smiling softly at the way a very young Dieter had panicked that he had ruined the moment for you. You had both been kids at the time, growing up together. “That’s a fun fact that the world doesn’t know about Dieter Bravo.” You tease. “You married the girl that took your virginity.”

Dieter chuckles, “Entertainment Tonight would have a field day.” He winks at you when you giggle, “it took me way too damn long to propose to you but I was scared you were gonna say no. Who wanted to marry a wannabe actor making his money in a community theater with no house? I was a shitshow.” He scoffs, shaking his head at himself.

“You were my shitshow.” You laugh, leaning back in the swing and kicking your feet higher. “It was us against the world back then, and I didn’t believe you would make it honestly, but I wanted you to try.”

“Hey. My improv was fucking great.” He defends himself playfully, “but I had to try. Even if I went to L.A and failed, I had to try. I couldn’t live life thinking what if. Imagine if I hadn’t gone? I’d be sat at the kitchen table with our kids wondering what could’ve been. I just wish you’d been by my side when I left.” He says as he swings.

“Hard to be by your side when you left without a word. Just a note on the bed.” There’s no heat in your tone, just irony. “It just- wasn’t meant to be.”

“And Sean is meant to be?” Dieter snorts. “Do you really want to marry that asshole?”

“He’s…..” you blow out a sigh, “safe.” You admit to him and to yourself. “I like him, he’s a good man……” you know you aren’t answering the real question and it’s ironic that Dieter is the only one to ask you that since you and Sean got engaged. “No.” You confess after a moment. “I don’t to want to marry him.”

Dieter nods, quiet for a moment as he absorbs your words, “I can’t sit here and lecture you. I have no authority in your life but you need to do what you want. Fuck everyone else. You sacrificed so much of yourself for everyone around you. Even me. I was selfish and you are still sitting here talking to me. Do what you want. Be selfish for once.” He demands, wanting you to be happy.

You want to be selfish and you drag your feet along the ground to stop yourself and hop off the swing. Turning towards Dieter, you grab the chain and pull him to a stop. His eyes widen and for a second, you both think that you’re going to slap him. He would deserve it. Instead, you lunge forward and press your lips to his.

Dieter is shocked when your lips smash against his and he reacts within seconds, wrapping his arms around you to drag you into his lap. As soon as your lips touch his, his muscle memory kicks in and he deepens the kiss. Reminded of so many kisses shared all those years ago.

You are shocked by how quickly Dieter clings to you. You’re angry at him, how could you not be? But you’ve missed him so much that it doesn’t matter right now. Your fingers sink into his longer hair and you moan, enjoying how it feels. You always wanted him to grow his hair out.

Your fingers pull on his hair and he groans into your mouth, sliding his tongue against yours and his hands slide down to squeeze your ass. He devours you, knowing this is wrong, and you’re going to push him away any second, but right now he’s greedy and he wants you.

You let yourself be taken away by the moment. Leaning into him, breathing him in. His base scent is still the same, woodsy and you swear he is still wearing the same cologne you had picked out for him years ago.

He knows you’ll pull away any second and he readies himself for that rejection as he leans back, pecking your lips until he kisses your cheeks and finally, your forehead. “I never stopped loving you.” He promises breathlessly, his hands sliding up your back. “I just wanted to make you proud but I fucked it all up.”

“You did fuck it up all up.” You won’t spare his feelings, but you reach out and caress his cheek. “But I am proud of you, Dieter. Every movie broke my heart and made me proud. Every role, even when you were on Broadway.” You sigh. “I went to your performance, the second week in.”

“You did?” He asks, eyes widening as he looks at you and his heart is pounding in his chest. He hasn’t felt like this in so many years. He hasn’t felt anything real for so long.

“I had to see it. You talked about Broadway the entire time you were at our local theatre. I honestly didn’t expect you to take the role, but when it was announced, I bought tickets.” You tell him. You cried through the entire thing, but people just thought you were moved by the performances.

He smiles softly, loving that you came to see him even if you hated him. You are kind enough to support him even when he ruined your life. “So what now? You gonna tell Sean you don’t want to marry him? I go home and we act like this never happened?” He asks quietly, worried that you’ll nod and send him away.

“I don’t know.” You bite your lip. “I don’t know what you want. You have a life in LA, a …..persona.” You add. “If you want that life, still….” You shrug. “I don’t think I can be a part of it.”

“Come with me to L.A. There’s nothing keeping you here. I want you to see my life and I want you to do something for yourself. Make your dreams come true. Paint. Do whatever you want. I’ll support you. I don’t give a fuck about my persona. I want to be with you and if you want to go home, if you get sick of me, I’ll book you a private jet straight back here.” He promises, “just give me another chance. Give us another chance.”

You lick your lips, staring at him and watching him start to shift nervously. “You want me to move to LA? Live with you?” He nods enthusiastically. “I do, baby, I want you to come be with me.” You lick your lips. “What do I have to lose?”

He nods, not allowing himself to get too excited. "And if you hate it, hate me, wanna come home...I'll sign the papers." He promises, nudging his nose against yours.

You snort. “I doubt that.” You tease, closing the gap to press your lips to his again. “I’ve never hated you, even when I hated you.” You had been so upset at him, but it’s only because you loved him so much. You still love him.

****

“Baby! Did you get the juice boxes?” You call out and Dieter strides into the dining room with the boxes for the kids. “Here you go.” He leans over to kiss the head of his three year old son before handing another box to your five year old daughter who opens it herself while saying “thanks daddy.” It’s so weird to hear that even now and Dieter can’t believe he’s a father. He smiles at his daughter and leans in to softly kiss you. “You need anything?” He murmurs against your lips, pulling back to look at you. “No. No. Sit down and eat.” You order and he sits down. “It looks amazing.” Debra compliments your mom who beams, so happy to be spending the holidays with her grandchildren. “Thank you.” She smiles at Dieter who is happy to be sitting here. So different from that Thanksgiving so many years ago. You had moved to L.A with him after your mom encouraged you and after that, you had decided to try and repair your relationship. It was easy to fall in love again and now, you have two kids.

You have everything you wanted back then, finding some small success as an artist, but you really prefer spending time with your kids, and your husband when he is away on location. You bring the family now and the press is marveling over the change in Dieter Bravo’s behavior. “Happy Thanksgiving everyone.” You raise your glass of wine but you don’t take a sip, smiling at Dieter mischievously. “Next year we will need to set another place at the table.” You announce. “Baby Bravo number three will be coming to a nursery near you in April.”

Your mom’s eyes widen as much as Debra’s and she grins, “that’s - that’s incredible, baby!” She cries and tears fill her eyes. “Oh my loves. Another baby.” Debra coos and reaches out to caress Dieter’s cheek before she smiles at you. “I’m so happy you both came back together.” Your mom sighs, loving how you and Dieter have worked everything out.

It hasn’t been easy, there have been times when you’ve been angry at Dieter, but he’s sober, you attend couples counseling and he has become your rock. “Thanksgiving miracles, huh?”

Dieter nods, “our miracles.” He murmurs, reaching for your hand to press a kiss to the back of it. You all dig in to the food and soon the kids are in bed after everyone is full, the house is clean, and your moms are watching tv. “You ready for bed, babe?” You ask and Dieter glances at the clock. “It’s only eight.” He frowns until you raise your eyebrows and his eyes widen, “oh yeah. I’m tired. We are going upstairs. Wifey needs all the rest she can get.” Dieter teases and your moms say goodnight while Dieter takes your hand and guides you upstairs.

You snort playfully and reach around him to slap his ass. “You almost didn’t get the drift.” You tease him. “And I thought you always knew when someone wanted sex.” Dieter huffs at you. “I didn’t think you would want it tonight.” He whines, defending himself.

You chuckle, “you know how horny I get when I’m pregnant.” You remind him and Dieter snorts, “but you’ve had turkey and pie.” He defends himself again as you make your way to the room you used to live in when you first got married. He opens the door and closes it behind you, groaning as he surges forward to press his lips to yours.

The years apart and the life that Dieter had lived in LA had just given him new skills to use on you. While it wasn’t perfect, you have to take the good with the bad. The good is that you have Dieter completely. Your arms wind around him and pull him close as you moan softly.

His hands are gentle but firm as he slides his hands down to squeeze your ass, pulling you against him as he hardens in his sweats. “Fuck. I love you.” He murmurs, kissing along your neck as he guides you backwards to the bed.

“I love you too.” You promise, trusting that he will make you feel amazing. “How do you feel about another baby?” You ask as you fall back into the bed.

“Happy as fuck.” He admits, “we have money. We have a big enough house. We can have as many babies as you want.” He teases as you lower to the bed and he shifts to kneel between your legs, “and you’re so fucking beautiful full of our babies.”

You have discovered that Dieter has kinks surrounding having kids now. Breeding, pregnancy, lactation kinks all have made for some amazing nights. You love the confidence that it gives you when he works with some of the most beautiful people in the world. He’s now the one that is showing pictures of his kids to his co-stars and inviting them to meet you, rather than asking if they want to do a line of coke with him. “You just love proving you aren’t sterile.” You tease, reminding him of The Inquisitor article that claimed all your children were born via sperm donor.

He snorts, “all conceived on my cock, baby.” He declares smugly and he reaches for the hem of your shirt, dragging it over your head. “You are gorgeous, baby.” He murmurs as he bends down to kiss your stomach, not quite a bump yet.

You hum, running your fingers through his hair again like he loves. He’s always sweet and considerate while you are pregnant and this will be your last baby, so it’s a special time for both of you. “All yours.” You promise.

He’s gonna get the snip before you have the baby, just so this is your last baby, and it’s bittersweet but he is going to enjoy every moment. He hooks his fingers in your leggings, dragging them down your legs and he groans when the scent of your arousal hits his nose. You’re so sensitive when you’re pregnant and he loves it. “All mine. And I’m yours. All of me.” He promises as he tosses your leggings aside and surges down to press his nose against your clit through your panties.

“Deeee.” You moan softly, loving the devoted look on his face as he looks up towards you. “I know I have you baby.” You promise, smiling down at him. “I love you.”

“Love you too.” He murmurs and hooks his finger in your panties, leaning in to slide his tongue through your folds. He loves the tang of your arousal when you’re pregnant. You taste sweeter somehow and he groans, reaching for your thigh to push it further away so he can slide his tongue into your cunt.

Whimpering with Dieter’s tongue inside you is as natural as breathing. Closing your eyes and letting him eat you out because he wants to. He loves doing down on you and hearing his name break from your lips. “Fuck baby, I love you.” You pant. “Deee.”

He loves hearing you moan his name. He laps at you, wanting to show you how much he loves you through his tongue. One hand caresses your stomach and the other pushes your thigh back to spread you more so he can bury his face In your pussy.

You don’t have to worry about waking the kids up, they are used to sleeping through anything although it’s usually just dinner parties and the two of you having sex. “Fuck, Dieter.” You moan. “Want to cum all over that stupidly handsome face of yours.”

He chuckles into your folds, knowing he's getting wrinkly and despite his co-stars in Hollywood investing in plastic surgery, he is surprisingly not interested in preventing aging. He is happy to be old beside you. His tongue laps at your clit, wanting you to fall apart for him.

Your hormones make you sensitive and in no time you are crying out in pleasure. Gasping out his name as your thighs cinch down around his head and your body shakes in pleasure.

He groans when you squeeze his head between your thighs, his hand reaching for yours as he works you through it. His cock is aching and he grinds against the mattress while he works you through your orgasm.

Dieter doesn’t stop until you are gasping and pushing his head away from you, clit aching from his attention and he pulls away with a playful smack to his lips. “I need you inside me.” You beg, reaching down and pulling him up. “I need my husband.”

He groans, shifting to hover above you, and he lets you pull his shirt over his head. He pushes his sweatpants down and his hard cock bounces as he kicks them aside while you throw his shirt on the floor. “Like this?” He asks, caressing your side and when you nod, he shifts to kneel between your legs, “I love you.” He murmurs as he grips his cock and positions himself at your cunt to push inside you.

The stretch of him is something that you will always love. Moaning as he fills you with a smooth, steady thrust that doesn’t stop until he is buried to the hilt and both of you are breathless. “Fuck.” You whimper, caressing his back as you squeeze him tight. “Feels so good baby.”

Dieter groans as he twitches inside you. You’re so damn hot and wet around his cock. “Fuck, I love you.” He murmurs, leaning down to kiss your lips. “Marry me again.” He murmurs, keeping still inside you.

You’re surprised when he says that. You’ve talked about it before, several times. He had always said that you should renew your vows, but you’ve never really planned anything else. “You want that?”

He nods as he stays still above you. “I want to renew our vows. Either before or after you have the baby. Whenever you want. I want a proper wedding. We got married at the courthouse when we were so young and I want to give you the wedding you deserve. A dress and a cake and - and a party like no one has seen.”

You giggle quietly. “It will have to be after the baby is born then.” You huff, knowing that while he has the money to pull off a wedding in weeks, you would rather enjoy the entire event rather than feeling rushed. “We’ll sell the pictures to People.” You tease, reaching up and caressing his face. “I love you.”

He snorts, nudging his nose with yours, “this will be for us. Our friends and family.” He promises and starts to move inside you. “I love you. So damn much.” He murmurs, sliding his hand up to squeeze your breast, shifting his weight to one arm.

He keeps his pace slow and loving, wanting you to enjoy it and sometimes the harsher thrusts aren’t what you want. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you move with him. Enjoying the way he fills you and never leaves you empty for too long. Slow lovemaking. “I love you too.”

He loves how you wrap yourself around him and he keeps his weight off your stomach while he rocks into you. It’s slow and sweet and he kisses along your jaw while he murmurs how beautiful you are. He knows how to make you moan and he grinds into your cunt, shifting his hips until he finds the angle that makes you moan his name. “That’s it, baby.” He coos, his back starting to ache but he keeps moving.

You breathlessly moan for him, finding it so sexy how he keeps the pressure up just like you need it. You know that his back is hurting and yet he keeps rocking into you at the same angle. “So good baby.”

He keeps the pace and angle as he pushes into you, wanting to feel you fall apart beneath him. He groans your name, “baby. Baby. Cum for me.” He demands, pressing his lips to your jaw, his breath puffing against your skin.

You let go of him and reach between you, pinching your nipple and making yourself fall over the edge. Crying out softly, your cunt starts to spasm around his cock and soak it with your juices.

He groans against your jaw as you cum around him, clamping down on his cock and he hisses. “Fuck baby. Feel so goddamn good. I - shit - I love you.” He murmurs, rocking you through it.

You whimper, eyes closed and your fingers dig into his shoulder. “Cum for me.” You beg softly. “I want you to fill me up.”

He grunts in response, thrusting into you at a sloppier pace than before as he feels that tingling in the base of his spine. His lips press against yours as he buries himself deep after several thrusts, muffling his groan while he paints your walls with his cum.

Even when he’s exhausted and happily riding out his high, Dieter collapses to his side so he doesn’t press too much of his weight on you. More considerate than anyone would have ever believed the selfish bad boy of Hollywood could be. “I love you.” You whisper in his ear with a smile on your face. “Happy Thanksgiving, love.” Thanksgiving had been a heavy burden for you, a reminder of your husband leaving you for years until he had come back to you on that same holiday. Now, you both give thanks for being together and more in love than ever. You accomplished both of your dreams and now all of them you still work towards are ones you want to accomplish together.

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

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brbsoulnomming · 6 hours ago

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Heart On Your Sleeve Part 5

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

written for steddiebigbang2024 and belatedly posting here!

This part includes the Russian torture scene, so adding a warning for gore/violence just to be safe!

-----

Eddie comes by Scoops, once Steve gets the job there.

The first time, he laughs at the sailor hat for a minute straight until Steve rolls his eyes and calls back, “I'm taking my lunch!”

“Now?” Robin bitches. “Did you actually get a girl to fall for those ridiculous li-” She cuts off as she comes out of the back room and sees Eddie. “Oh. Huh.”

Eddie flashes a sharp toothed smile at her, and Steve rolls his eyes again and elbows him.

“I'll be back before the actual lunch rush hits this way,” he tells Robin, untying his apron and depositing it to the side of the counter.

To Eddie, he says, “Here, since this brought you so much joy,” and drops the sailor hat onto the top of Eddie's head.

Eddie gives a squawk and squirms around like he's trying to bat him off, though Steve notices he doesn't actually push him away as Steve adjusts the hat to his liking.

“There,” Steve says, shooting Eddie a teasing little grin as he steps back. “You keep that on the whole time, and I'll buy you lunch.”

“A small price to pay for a free meal,” Eddie says solemnly, but his eyes are crinkled a little like they do when he smiles, and he doesn't take the hat off the entire time they eat together.

—

He and Eddie sit out back behind Scoops, passing a cigarette back and forth. It's the end of Steve's shift, and technically he doesn't have to stay anymore, but he's not in a hurry to get home.

Dustin's away at camp, after all.

“Why the hell are you working here?” Eddie asks, sounding like he's been mulling it over for a while.

Steve snorts. “Needed to work somewhere.”

“Okay, fine, but haven't you done the lifeguard thing for like three years?”

Steve - didn't actually expect Eddie to know that, and he shoots him a little smile before he rolls his eyes. “Not a real job, according to my dad. It's just hanging out at the pool all day.”

Eddie scoffs. “Would your dad even know a real job if it bit him?”

“My dad's never really had to work for anything,” Steve mutters. “I didn't get into any of the colleges they wanted me to, so I needed to be taught a lesson. Pretty sure he was hoping it'd humiliate me.”

Eddie tips back, looking him over. “You don't look very humiliated.”

Steve shrugs. “Because I'm not. Yeah, sure, the outfit and the hat are stupid, but work is work. Ice cream makes people happy, I make people happy, it could be worse. Besides, he has no idea what I'm even making here. Every paycheck is a little more I can stash away where he can't touch it.”

Eddie's watching him very closely now, in a way that Steve's never seen before.

“How long have you been doing that?” he asks quietly.

“What, saving money that my dad doesn't know about?” Steve asks.

“Yeah.”

Eddie's face is serious - far more serious than Steve's ever seen him, than he thinks the situation warrants. Steve frowns.

“Since I got my first job, I guess? Anything I ask for from him comes with some kind of string attached, and I got tired of paying for it.”

Eddie's quiet again. “You've gotten in a lot of fights the last couple of years,” he says, slow and careful like he thinks Steve might bolt. “Lot of bruises.”

He clocks on to what Eddie's trying to get at, then, and a rush of relief washes over him as he hurries to set him straight. “Oh, no, my dad's not abusive or anything, just an asshole. He's never hit me.”

Eddie considers that. “Your dad can be an abusive piece of shit without ever hitting you.”

Steve licks his lips, takes his turn watching Eddie a little more closely. “Sounds like you're familiar with it.”

Eddie laughs, sharp and humorless. “Come on, man, you know who my dad is.”

“I know what people say about him,” Steve agrees. “But I've learned not to listen to rumors.”

Eddie flicks the cigarette butt off into the distance.

Steve gets out another one, puts it between his lips to light it. He takes a long drag, then - pulls his heart out of his chest, setting it between them before he passes the cigarette over.

Eddie's eyes drop down to his heart as he takes the cigarette, but this time he doesn't say anything.

Steve still doesn't ask to see his, even though he's tempted.

“You can listen to these ones,” Eddie says after a while. “They're mostly true.”

“You deserve better,” Steve tells him.

He looks over when Eddie doesn't say anything, finding him watching his heart. It's beating strong and steady.

“So do you,” Eddie says without looking up.

They sit in silence for a while longer, until the cigarette is gone.

Then Steve tucks his heart back into his chest and stands up. “Come on, I'll get us lunch.”

Eddie scowls at him. “You bought last time.”

“Yeah, but a conversation like that deserves a burrito bigger than your head, and I've got employee discount,” Steve counters, holding out his hand.

Eddie concedes, accepting his hand up.

—

Steve keeps making up excuses to buy Eddie lunch after that, every time he comes by at the end of an early shift or close to his lunch break on a later shift.

One day he gets them both pizza from Sbarro, and they sit at one of the sticky plastic tables in the food court. It's so small their knees knock together as they devour their slices, but -

But it also means that Steve can tuck his ankle up against Eddie's, hook his foot half around it, and have an excuse if he needs one.

He doesn't need one.

Eddie doesn't move his foot away, but he does shoot wide eyed little looks over at Steve like he's not sure whether this is a joke or not, and -

“Hi,” Steve says, soft and ridiculous and holy shit, he has to have something better than hi.

But apparently hi works, because Eddie ducks his head, looks back up at him with something soft and wary and surprised all at once.

“Hi,” Eddie says back.

And that's -

It's something.

—

Steve gets closer to Robin - their bickering has started to become playful, and even though her teasing's never been mean, now it sounds almost fond. She still gets annoyed when customers watch them work in complete sync and think they're a couple, but now she just rolls her eyes and complains to him later instead of throwing things off by trying to protest it.

It's nice. He thinks he might be winning her over, and it makes the days pass a lot quicker.

—

He doesn't see Eddie for a week after their pizza lunch.

He tries not to think much about it, just tells himself that if he hasn't seen him by the time Dustin comes back from camp, he'll call him.

—

This isn't like any beating he's taken before.

Steve'd thought he was prepared. He was prepared, at least in the beginning. Billy did just as much damage, even if it was in a shorter span of time, and the ache in his ribs and stomach and face is familiar.

He can handle it.

Besides, it doesn't matter how much they hurt him - protecting Robin and Dustin and Erica is more important than anything else.

"Let's take a look at his heart," one of the soldiers says. "See how honest he's really being."

Steve's pretty sure he makes a choked off little guh.

He doesn't want to let them anywhere near his heart.

But on the other hand - he isn't lying as much as they think he is, and maybe that will prove it? They'll have to undo his hands to get him to take it out, and he briefly considers trying to get the drop on them, but he has to concede that probably won't go very well for him.

It's not like they're really asking for his opinion, anyway.

They aren't making any move to untie his hands, either, and Steve's brow scrunches in confusion.

He sees one of them holding what looks like a mix of a gun and a taser. It - honestly, it looks pretty stupid, like a prop in a bad movie, and he wrinkles his nose at it.

They press it up against his ribcage, pull the trigger - and fuck, he jolts back with the force of it.

His chest splits open.

The shock of it makes him numb for a precious few moments, staring down at the gaping hole in his own chest. The pain doesn't hit him until they take his heart out. It feels like it's being carved out of him, ripped from his chest as though he were being mauled by a wild animal, and he has the somewhat hysterical thought that he shouldn't be alive for this.

His heart was torn out of his chest, and somehow it's still beating, erratic and racing.

"Hmm," one of the soldiers says, tilting his heart this way and that. "Feels real."

The soldier squeezes it, and this time Steve screams at the pressure tightening around his heart, making him convulse in his bonds.

The second soldier laughs.

"They're making such good fakes these days," the second soldier says.

The first soldier relaxes his grip, and Steve sucks in ragged gulps of air, too disoriented to really understand what they're saying.

"Much more sophisticated than patches and paint," the first soldier agrees. "What good would a spy be if he showed his real heart?"

"No," Steve protests. "It's real, come on, you can feel it."

There’s no sign of deception from his heart, but it's beating too wildly from the pain to really make a difference.

"We'll see about that," the second soldier says, handing a switchblade to the first.

The first soldier presses the flat of the blade against his heart. "Let's see what's underneath if we shave a little off?"

—

Steve doesn't really remember anything after that. He must have passed out, because the next thing he hears is Robin's voice, and he realizes he's in a different room, tied back to back with her.

His chest aches.

Everything aches, really, but his chest is the worst of it.

Steve looks down, sees himself solid and in one piece again. He might have thought the whole thing was just a pain induced hallucination if it weren't for the unstable beat of his heart. It's pulsing unsteadily, and he feels as though if he even breathes too hard, it might burst into pieces with the next beat.

But he's not alone now.

He's with Robin, and she makes everything better, and even though his heart beats too fast when he thinks of how much he likes her - it's the good kind of too fast, not the kind that makes him think his heart is going to explode.

He is pretty sure that his heart is going to explode, though, that they're probably going to die here. He knows Robin is thinking the same thing - he just knows, like going through Russian secret agent torture together has made them automatically on the same wave length.

They were heading towards being friends before this, he knows, wonders if maybe they could have ever been for real.

It's a shame he doesn't think he'll ever get to find out.

—

Dustin and Erica find them before Steve loses any fingers.

Which is good. He might not be on the basketball team anymore, but he still plays with Lucas sometimes, and he likes all of his fingers attached to his hand and not on the floor of a secret Russian base.

He tells Dustin that as they're escaping from said Russian secret base. Dustin looks a little pale, hugs him tight around the middle, which makes Steve laugh - it should hurt, he thinks, but he doesn't feel a thing.

The only thing he feels is kind of floaty, and the itchy, overheated sensation he always gets when he's had his heart locked inside his chest for too long.

When no one's looking, Steve takes his heart out of his chest.

His stomach turns.

Whatever he's feeling about it seems distant, too far removed for him to be able to react to it, but the physical sensation of his stomach heaving is present and accounted for.

It only barely looks like a heart. The shape of it is hardly visible, more like a double handful of the precut chuck roast he gets to use as stew meat, sluggishly oozing every time it beats.

The thought of putting it back in his chest makes his stomach heave again, but even like this, he knows he can't keep it out in the open.

He rips off the red scarf from his Scoops uniform, wraps it around his heart to hold it together, and ties it off.

There.

Now no one will notice.

-----

This is already written, and my plan is to post one part a day until it's all up here!

Taglist (always happy to add more to this if anyone wants): @fairytalesreality @lostonceandneverfound @wheneverfeasible @awkwardgravity1 @theintrovertedintrovert @thewickedkat @ravenfrog @scarlet-malfoy @missmagillicuddy @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @ollyxar @cringe-culture-is-dead-99 @thedragonsaunt @makewavesandwar @ajeff855 @mae-liz @the-fantastical-asexual @jettestar @warlordess @samsoble @persnicketysquares @cryptid-system @my-love-of-books @mydysfunctionallife @dreamercec @holyangelstudentuniverse

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie fic #robin buckley

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dufferpuffer · 3 days ago

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Absolutely agree with everything said about Snapes intentions. He would beg Voldemort to spare only Lily - because who the fuck is he to ask ANYTHING of the Dark Lord…? But Dumbledore? There is no need to only ask for Lily - and he doesn't. He brings them ALL up.

But I want to bring some things up about how Dumbledore manipulates - and his own intentions. It's often brought up that he is a manipulator - but his actual clearest manipulations are often glossed over, or played off as him being irrational/stupid.

There is nobody he manipulates quite as viciously as he does Severus Snape in these flashbacks. it's so tasty.

Dumbledore Meta Time:

Dumbledore doesn't assume Snape only cares about Lily - only that she is the one most important to him. And he uses that as a weapon. He intentionally steers the conversation back to her and then shoves the high heel of his boot into Severus' throat, to drive the guilt in.

‘If she means so much to you,’ said Dumbledore, ‘surely Lord Voldemort will spare her? Could you not ask for mercy for the mother, in exchange for the son?' 'I have - I have asked him -‘

He brings up something despicable - and the moment Severus stammers a few words cuts him off. Albus rarely ever cuts anyone off... unless he wants to crush them.

‘You disgust me,’

...he says, when Severus is simply bouncing off the picture HE painted, desperate and stammering.

‘You do not care, then, about the deaths of her husband and child? They can die, as long as you have what you want?’

A test. He paints another scenario - and DARES Severus to bounce off this one, too. It's not a conclusion he is jumping to. It's a calculated attack.

Snape said nothing, but merely looked up at Dumbledore. ‘Hide them all, then,’ he croaked. ‘Keep her - them - safe. Please.’

He passes. Not a confirmation of the scenario, nor a defense of himself - total submission. Good boy, Severus.

The Order is losing. They need their own mole. Albus knows Severus wouldn't be here, meeting a man he was scared might kill him... unless he was incredibly brave and dedicated to something good. He can be used... ...and Dumbledore wants him desperately. Even if it means grabbing him by the throat - for the greater good.

‘And what will you give me in return, Severus?’ ‘In - in return?’ Snape gaped at Dumbledore, and Harry expected him to protest, but after a long moment he said, ‘Anything.'

I've seen people try to claim Dumbledore is daft for expecting Severus - a man who has nothing - to be able to give anything but himself. But that was the exact goal...? Make him feel so shit and desperate that he would give himself? Albus isn't saying 'What can you give me? Turn out your pockets, you disgusting cretin.' He is saying 'What WILL you give me? Hm…? Will you be a good boy, Severus…?'

---

I also agree with everything said about how Snape perceives Dumbledore. But what about how Dumbledore perceives Snape?

We see how Albus keeps himself distant from students. He is rarely around, difficult to reach - and in the 70s was:

Running the school to the standards the Board of Governors desires so he is not removed (some of whom may be Death Eaters)

Following Ministry summons (though likely less, as a new headmaster, and without Fudge as Minister)

Leading an illegal secret society of volunteers - gathering information, spying, moles within the Ministry, Fighting… …He's a wee bit busy, basically.

Yet in the 90s he seems to know the names of kids he's likely never been within 2 meters of before. He takes an interest. It'd help that he taught most of their parents, their grandparents - went to school with their great-grandparents...

He'd know Eileen Prince, President of the Gobstones Club, who seemingly disappeared from the Wizarding World - taking her Pureblood name with her. He would know the little boy who arrived hand-in-hand with the Muggleborn whose sister wrote a very cute letter was hers. Connections are important. Keeping tabs on people... special tools that will help him later.

---

Snapes life was threatened in his fifth year - and Albus had to make sure he stayed quiet about it.

"You surely don't believe a word of Black's story?" Snape whispered, his eyes fixed on Dumbledores face. […] "Sirius Black showed he was capable of murder at the age of sixteen," he breathed. "You haven't forgotten that, Headmaster? You haven't forgotten that he once tried to kill me?" "My memory is as good as it ever was, Severus," said Dumbledore quietly.

(PoA, ch21)

He is going to do it again, 'side with Sirius' (to Severus' view), but he asks, quietly, for Snape to trust him. "I do remember, Severus. I keep that in mind… but please, allow me to speak to the children, for their side." He remembers, and he agrees - or at least, is sympathetic that 'attempted murder' is Severus' reasonable view of things.

Yet as a boy Severus did, indeed, keep quiet about it. He didn't tell anyone what Remus was for the next two years of school. He didn't get Remus and Albus in trouble even when the bullying continued. He didn't tell Lily, though he wanted her back.

While at school, Albus was likely wary of him - he made Lily and James head boy and girl - but knew if he wasn't at least someone who could stick to doing 'the right thing' when the going got tough... he could at least be manipulated with a heel to his throat. :^)

So when Severus comes crawling back with a message of danger… well, Albus has seen that before, and it went rather well last time.

---

Dumbledore certainly see's himself in Snape… but I'm not sure he did at that point in time.

Ariana killed Albus' mother. Accidentally, yes - but he was closer to his mother than his siblings. He had just graduated and wanted to live away from the burning wreck of his family - but because his mother was dead he had to stay behind and look after his sister while his brother finished school.

His wayward, violent, can barely read brother who doesn't seem to wanna do anything… and his useless, basically magic-less sister who is ruining his life... Just because it's the right thing to do. But he was being tempted away: a lover, an intellectual equal, a brilliant young man just like him, who dreams with him…

Ask a 17/18yr old Albus if he would be upset if Ariana died. He'd probably say he'd be relieved. Hell - Aberforth STILL thinks Albus never loved her. Even though he broke his nose at her funeral, and Albus intentionally never fixed it. Scars can be quite handy - at reminding us what we have lost.

The duel was an accident. An argument between teenagers. Gellert wasn't a danger to Ariana, he was attacking Aberforth. She died anyway. Without warning something important was gone. The girl his father died for. The girl his mother spent her life sheltering. His brothers best friend. His baby sister… All because he wasn't dedicated to living for her, dying for her.... like everyone else was.

He was prioritizing his own dreams over the safety of the weak - and that greed for power blinded him.

… That only has obvious parallels to Severus later, in grief. Lily becomes the girl Severus failed to protect, lost to his selfish desires... he should have prioritized her but instead turned away.

But at this very moment…?

Severus is fighting, throwing his own desires away to protect her when she is at her most vulnerable. Foolish, a wayward idiot… but even when he will be far away from Lily he is dedicated to her. Terrified he won't be enough - he has to boldly go and insist Albus understand the gravity of the situation, that Albus does good enough in a matter he might not personally care for.

In this moment, Severus is more like Aberforth. …And maybe the Hogs Head does indeed play a little into that perception.

---

Talking about Albus comparing Severus to himself…

“I thought… you were going… to keep her… safe…” “She and James put their faith in the wrong person,“ said Dumbledore. ”Rather like you, Severus. Weren’t you hoping that Lord Voldemort would spare her?“ Snape’s breathing was shallow. “Her boy survives,” said Dumbledore. With a tiny jerk of the head, Snape seemed to flick off an irksome fly. “Her son lives. He has her eyes, precisely her eyes. You remember the shape and color of Lily Evans’s eyes, I am sure?“ “DON’T!” bellowed Snape. “Gone… dead…”

(DH, ch33)

I get chills about how vicious this is… he's back to stomping on his throat… Laying it on thick. All vegemite, no butter. Pushing all the guilt off of his own shoulders, promising to protect Lily and failing - sliding it onto Severus' plate. Why? Why push so, so hard…? Severus has already lost everything…

“Is this remorse, Severus?” “I wish… I wish I were dead…“ “And what use would that be to anyone?” said Dumbledore coldly. “If you loved Lily Evans, if you truly loved her, then your way forward is clear.”

(DH, ch33)

…If you loved her, truly loved her, your way forward is clear. What use is remorse if you do nothing with it? If you wallow in your desire to die, to be rid of the guilt...? That's a desperate feeling Albus knows well.

"It's all my fault, all my fault," he sobbed. "Please make it stop, I know I did wrong, oh please make it stop and I'll never, never again…" […] Dumbledore began to cower as though invisible torturers surrounded him; his flailing hand almost knocked the refilled goblet from Harry's trembling hands as he moaned, "Don't hurt them, don't hurt them, please, please, it's my fault, hurt me instead…" […] He supported Dumbledore's shoulders and again, Dumbledore drained the glass; then Harry was on his feet once more, refilling the goblet as Dumbledore began to scream in more anguish than ever, "I want to die! I want to die! Make it stop, make it stop, I want to die!" […] Dumbledore drank, and no sooner had he finished than he yelled, "KILL ME!"

(HBP, ch26)

Albus knows exactly what Severus is going through… and he knows the path forwards. What he believes to be the only path, for guilty bastards like them, who get those they love killed:

Snape seemed to peer through a haze of pain, and Dumbledore’s words appeared to take a long time to reach him. “What – what do you mean?” “You know how and why she died. Make sure it was not in vain. Help me protect Lily’s son.” “He does not need protection. The Dark Lord has gone – ” “The Dark Lord will return, and Harry Potter will be in terrible danger when he does.” There was a long pause, and slowly Snape regained control of himself, mastered his own breathing. At last he said, “Very well. Very well. But never – never tell, Dumbledore! This must be between us! Swear it! I cannot bear… especially Potter’s son… I want your word!” “My word, Severus, that I shall never reveal the best of you?” Dumbledore sighed, looking down into Snape’s ferocious, anguished face. “If you insist…”

(DH, ch33)

Scum like them can only atone in throwing their lives away for others. They want to die - so in spirit, they are dead. Throwing their dreams away, their choice in what they do in the lives they life, to fight for those who still live… for the Greater Good.

Albus, seeing himself in Severus, is pushing him to follow the same path. The best path - as far as he is concerned. The best of them.

This part of Snape's memories that he gives to Harry has been talked to death, but please indulge me while I dig it back up because meta rests for no man. Emphases in the below excerpt are mine:

The corridor dissolved, and the scene took a little longer to reform: Harry seemed to fly through shifting shapes and colours until his surroundings solidified again and he stood on a hilltop, forlorn and cold in the darkness, the wind whistling through the branches of a few leafless trees. The adult Snape was panting, turning on the spot, his wand gripped tightly in his hand, waiting for something or for someone … his fear infected Harry, too, even though he knew that he could not be harmed, and he looked over his shoulder, wondering what it was that Snape was waiting for - Then a blinding, jagged jet of white light flew through the air: Harry thought of lightning, but Snape had dropped to his knees and his wand had flown out of his hand. ‘Don’t kill me!’ ‘That was not my intention.’ Any sound of Dumbledore Apparating had been drowned by the sound of the wind in the branches. He stood before Snape with his robes whipping around him, and his face was illuminated from below in the light cast by his wand. ‘Well, Severus? What message does Lord Voldemort have for me?' 'No - no message - I’m here on my own account!’ Snape was wringing his hands: he looked a little mad, with his straggling, black hair flying around him. ‘I - I come with a warning - no, a request - please -‘ Dumbledore flicked his wand. Though leaves and branches still flew through the night air around them, silence fell on the spot where he and Snape faced each other. ‘What request could a Death Eater make of me?’ ‘The - the prophecy … the prediction … Trelawney …’ ‘Ah, yes,’ said Dumbledore. ‘How much did you relay to Lord Voldemort?’ ‘Everything - everything I heard!’ said Snape. ‘That is why - it is for that reason - he thinks it means Lily Evans!’ ‘The prophecy did not refer to a woman,’ said Dumbledore. ‘It spoke of a boy born at the end of July -‘ ‘You know what I mean! He thinks it means her son, he is going to hunt her down - kill them all -‘ ‘If she means so much to you,’ said Dumbledore, ‘surely Lord Voldemort will spare her? Could you not ask for mercy for the mother, in exchange for the son?' 'I have - I have asked him -‘ ‘You disgust me,’ said Dumbledore, and Harry had never heard so much contempt in his voice. Snape seemed to shrink a little. ‘You do not care, then, about the deaths of her husband and child? They can die, as long as you have what you want?’ Snape said nothing, but merely looked up at Dumbledore. ‘Hide them all, then,’ he croaked. ‘Keep her - them - safe. Please.’ ‘And what will you give me in return, Severus?’ ‘In - in return?’ Snape gaped at Dumbledore, and Harry expected him to protest, but after a long moment he said, ‘Anything.'

Firstly what stands out here is that that Snape is the first one to refer to Harry and James and not just Lily, not Dumbledore. Snape says, "he is going to hunt her down - kill them all" showing that from the outset he was aware of not just Lily's fate, but her husband's and son's as well. His warning to Dumbledore takes them into consideration too, so from the outset we see that Dumbledore's assumptions are likely biased.

It's Dumbledore who assumes Snape is only thinking about Lily and doesn't care about her family. Although Snape is clearly more invested in Lily, focusing on her as Voldemort's target when he first speaks, he doesn't exhibit the selfish tunnel vision Dumbledore accuses him of. In fact, immediately after Snape says "them all" it's Dumbledore who changes the conversation to be specifically about Lily again. It's understandable that Snape is more concerned about Lily - she's the one he grew up with and was friends with, although it's likely Dumbledore doesn't know this, and may never learn the full extent of Snape's relationship to her, not even to the extent that he shares with Harry in his final memories. Snape refers to her as Lily Evans, not Potter, likely because he's so used to Evans being her name, having spent his whole childhood knowing her by it. His relationship with James was one of victim to abuser, so it's understandable that in this moment of panic and anxiety, James Potter isn't the most important thing in Snape's mind.

It's important to how the dynamics between Snape and Dumbledore play out in this scene that Snape is terrified. He's described as "panting, turning on the spot" and his fear is so palpable that even Harry feels it, though he knows he's safe and in a memory where he can't be harmed. Snape is coming into this conversation out of desperation, and trusting a man who didn't seem to care much when Snape's life was threatened by a fellow student in his fifth year at Hogwarts. To Snape, Dumbledore is the man who let Sirius' prank slide even though it could have killed him. Years after this scene on the hilltop, when Sirius escapes from Azkaban, he still asserts with viciousness that Snape deserved to die just for being too nosy about him and his friends. So to Snape, Dumbledore is the man who let that attempt on his life slide, and who invited Sirius and James - both his attackers, as far as he's concerned - to join the original Order of the Phoenix.

To Snape, Dumbledore is someone who doesn't care if he lives or dies, and who trusts and respects people who, as far as Snape is concerned, are violent and ruthless. This is compounded by the time he's spent in Voldemort's ranks, where's he's seen firsthand what people like that - violent and ruthless - are capable of. He likely sees Dumbledore as a leader who is just as volatile as Voldemort. Since we know that Voldemort doesn't believe in light and dark, good or bad, only in power and weakness, we can assume that Snape has taken on some of these ideas. His perspective may also be informed by his experiences with the bullying of the Marauders, who claimed to hate his proclivity for "dark" magic while perverting innocent spells like scourgify to enact violence (if you've ever tried to eat soap as a kid, you can imagine how vile that might be, let alone if it's blocking the airflow in your trachea). So in Snape's eyes, Dumbledore is probably not the light to Voldemort's dark, but a rival wizard fighting for power, and therefore someone he likely assumes will resort to similar brutality.

As far as Snape is concerned, Dumbledore could strike him dead just for being there. And yet he walks into this meeting, the arrangement of which is already a mortal risk, knowing he might not leave it alive. His first words to the man are, "Don't kill me." Even if he were there just to plead for Lily's life and not care about her family, his willingness to sacrifice himself to save her is already an act of bravery and frankly, I think it's a much more complicated moral dilemma whether one can choose who to give their own life for than Dumbledore's harsh condemnation makes it seem. Can we expect a man to risk his life for a friend? That's a question with a complex and multi-faceted variety of answers. Can we expect him to risk his life for an enemy, or an abuser? That's a long and complex answer with even fewer clear conclusions.

Dumbledore, meanwhile, sees himself in Snape. We see through the HP series, especially in this reveal at the end, how intertwined his relationship with Snape became. We learn that Dumbledore spends his life carrying the guilt and pain of his sister's death and his direct or indirect role in it. It's a pretty common reading of his and Snape's relationship that Dumbledore understood the depth and irrevocability of Snape's regret and guilt firsthand. Knowing all this, it's hard to read Dumbledore's judgment of Snape on the hilltop, and his immediately conclusion that Snape is only interested in protecting Lily - despite warning that Voldemort intends to "kill them all" - as being objective. I read it as Dumbledore projecting his own guilt and anxiety onto Snape in that moment. In addition, as @said-snape-softly pointed out to me very aptly, the prophecy was overheard in the Hog's Head, which is run by Dumbledore's brother Aberforth, adding onto Dumbledore's personal baggage coming out in this moment. Dumbledore's own feelings are loaded and he makes assumptions about Snape's goals and motivations out of his own anxieties about himself.

And Snape lets him. He's been under Voldemort's thumb, a murderous sociopath who throws unforgivable curses around like most people sneeze. He's desperate and terrified and isn't going to argue with Dumbledore. Dumbledore says, "Could you not ask for mercy for the mother, in exchange for the son?" and Snape replies that he has. But as we've seen already, Snape has included Harry and James and Dumbledore - as the person with all the power and leverage in this conversation - has changed the subject to focus on Lily. Snape is in no position to argue about semantics in this moment. The same way he brought up Harry and James to Dumbledore only for them to be ignored by him, he may have brought them up to Voldemort only for him to react similarly.

Given what we know about Voldemort as a character, once he has decided to go after Harry and not Neville, there's no changing his mind. Any effort made to sway him would fail and only add the asker to the pile of bodies Voldemort leaves in his wake. James and Lily are both targets, because canonically they have defied Voldemort three times and are members of the Order fighting against his cause. Snape may be able to beg for Lily's life - and we see that Voldemort assumed it was because he "desired her" - but James' is almost impossible to argue on behalf of, even if he wanted to. Snape can't claim any intimate connection even if it's a lie, because James is in the Order and enough of an enemy to Voldemort that he was targeted on the basis of Trelawney's prophecy. The fact that Snape went to Dumbledore means that he is asking for Lily's whole family to be protected, not just her. It's not just extra insurance in case Voldemort decides to kill everyone in his path to Harry, it's an effort to save Lily and the people who matter to her as well. Snape knows that Dumbledore will give them a fighting chance where Voldemort won't.

When Dumbledore accuses Snape of not caring if they live or die, Snape says nothing. He doesn't confirm or deny this accusation, and as we've seen, he's terrified and Dumbledore has already twisted his words and judged him, so it's reasonable to assume Snape is worried that if he says the wrong thing, all will be lost. Dumbledore could have just accepted Snape's warning and told him to leave. He could have accepted the warning and asked why Snape gave it. Instead, he jumped to conclusions and threw them in Snape's face, a frightened man risking his life who learned quickly in this conversation that Dumbledore hates him and is judging him, and who learned while still at school that Dumbledore doesn't value his perspective or even his very life.

And then Dumbledore asks him, "what will you give me in return?" Snape is caught off guard, because as far as he knew, he was already doing Dumbledore a favor. He's offering him free information that will enable him to protect two of his Order members when the Death Eaters already outnumber them twenty to one, as Lupin said in OOtP. Again, Snape is risking his life - if Voldemort finds out he had this conversation with Dumbledore, he's definitely dead. As far as he knows, Dumbledore could kill him, as his opening sentence in this scene shows. And yet, Dumbledore turns this around - like the tactical, manipulative military leader he is - and posits the situation as being one in which he's doing Snape a favor by heeding his warning. As if he were choosing to protect Lily and her family for Snape's sake, not his own, and not theirs. Many years later, Dumbledore will ask Snape how many people he's watched die, and Snape answers, "lately only those I could not save." But in this moment on the hilltop, that's already what Snape is doing.

#hp meta #severus snape #albus dumbledore #hp #B^)#i hope this makes sense im tired im not re-reading before I post whoops

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mintaikk · 2 days ago

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Why Morpherine should be canon

Remember: all of these are just MY opinion. In all honesty, I just want Morph's feelings for Lpgan to addressed instead of just burying it immediately. That's all I'm asking, I'm not even asking them to get into a relationship. Morph's VA even agrees that Morpherine doesn't even need to be canon, and that their friendship should be explored more. But, these are just my reasonings on why it would be good for morpherine to be canon.

It would put an end to the not love triangle between Jean, Scott, and Logan

Love triangle has been going on for a while now, and I think we're all sick of it. I like that it let's us see a softer side of Logan, but Jean isn'tinterested! She's been with Scott since high school, and there's no way in Hell that she is going to leave him.

What sucks to me is that the fact that nothing has really been where he develops abd is able to get over his crush. I get it. Feelings are hard, and they don't go away. But, nothing is going to be done with this except useless pining and have Jean kiss him for some fucking reason. I literally just want Logan to get over Jean. That's it. He gets over Jean, and find someone thar actually likes him in that way.

And that's Morph bcuz the entire post is about :).

It already has good buildup

Half of this section was just stolen from a post made by @waywardsou2 bcuz I haven't watched the original series in a while and they put it perfectly lol.

Morph and Logan were best friends, with Logan famously saying that, "He [Morph] is the only one that could ever make me laugh." But (in literally the first episode lol), Morph dies protecting Logan from a sentinel. And Logan was fucking PISSED. He didn't like Scott before, but I think Morph dying contributed to his dislike for him even more, since he believes that Scott's decision is the reason that his best friend was killed. He then goes to grieve and then later avenge Morph ("This one's for you, Morph!" Slayed so hard with that line tbh). Later, when they find out that Morph is alive, but under Sinister's control, Logan is the first one to offer and go out to rescue them, even though they all think that Morph betrayed them. He says that "He's the only one that could ever make me laugh", quote and also mentions that he's "not giving up on him again." When Logan goes to talk to Morph, the purple around Moeph'a eyes dissappear, and only return when Logan isn't around, so they're already shown to be pretty close.

Another thing is that when Morph and Logan are fighting, Morph turns into Sabretooth and Jean to get under Logan's skin. It's already and open secret among the X-men thst Logan has feelings for Jean, but he hadn't told anyone about Sabretooth. Morph turning into Sabretooh implies that Logan gold Morph about him. I find it sweet that Logan trusted Morph enough to tell them about Sabretooth.

Morph wanted to get revenge on the rest of the team, but with Logan, they just explained what they were going through. And Logan understands them because he wants them to feel better.

And then, in X-men 97, they're just attached by the hip and are literally always seen together. Morph cheers Logan up when he's upset, Morph is always the first one to save him, etc. They're even like this in the comic, being the first one to notice that Wolvie is upset during Scott and Jean's baby shower.

Oh yeah, the thing that made me go "HOLD UP" and got me into this ship: Morph's (confirmed) love confession to Wolverine.

And that fuckass shower scene.

We could just leave it at that, but I'm a fanfic reader and writer, meaning that I latch onto ANY angst I can find. So, here's the stuff this scene implies.

-The illusion of Logan was made by Mr. Sinister when he was bringing out the worst fears of the X-men. And Morph’s worst fear? Logan finding out their feelings for him, and Logan finding them repulsive

-Mr. Sinister is aware of Morph's feelings for Logan, which implies they've had feelings for him for a while now

Those two things are very important for me, and just adds to their relationship more. Imagine a scene where Morph tells Logan expecting him to be grossed out by him, but instead, Logan accepts them and hugs them or smthn. I'd honestly cry if I saw that.

Happy ending for the gays :D

So, so many stories of unrequited gay love or "burying your gays." I don't think they're gonna kill Morph as a lot of their time was spent being dead, but I can see them being rejected by Wolvie. Which is completely fine! Again, I'm not saying that they need to be together! Having a scene like this or this would be great!

But also, I think a lot of people are just tired of having gays get unhappy endings in media, be that rejection for a straight relationship or just straight up dying. Morph's VA believes that it's important to have a gay character be rejected by a straight guy since it's happened to so many people in real life, and I do agree with it! But also, this is fiction, and escapism, and goddamnit, people just want their favorite characters to be happy!

Good queer rep

Imma br so fr: Marvel shows and movies are shit when it comes to queer representation. It's getting better, but it's still shit. It's either a one-off comment or queerbaiting. Apparently, Loki is genderfluid? That's great! Would've been nice to actually see! Bucky Barnes is implied to be bisexual (he mentioned a lot of tiger photos on Tinder, tiger photos are mostly posted by men, it implies he was looking at men's profiles on tinder) but again, that's only implied, and you gotta dig deep to realize it, so really, only people who are actively looking or are in those communities know. America Chavez is gay, (haven't read her comics, but I think she's also gay in the comics :D), but I didn't even know that until I saw it on the wiki. I don't feel like going through all of it, so here are some links to posts that talk about it. Link 1, Link 2, Link 3

Honestly, it'll boils down to wanting to appease the cishet male audience.

X-men is a bit different though, as the series was literally MADE to be woke. Like, here's a post I made that talks about it bcuz I don't feel like repeating myself. Except Marvel shows are cowards, so they'll probably tone-down the wokeness. Smthn about "Wolverine can't be queer bcuz he's mainstream" and they gotta appease that cishet audience! Except that's exactly WHY it would be great for Wolvie to be in a queer relationship! Because he's mainstream! He's already a super popular character, and having him be queer would be great, because a lot of queer people will look up to a character that they already liked before! Straight men have a shit ton of characters that represent them. What's wrong with queer men having a character thar can represent them? Same with lesbians, bisexuals, trans people, literally anyone under the queer umbrella.

I latched onto Morph so heavily because they're nonbinary and gender-nonconforming, which matches my gender expression so heavily. And if I can be so extremely happy with a character that gets a couple minutes of screen time being queer, imagine how happy people will be when a main character whose in a queer relationship gets even more screen time?

Also, Wolvie dated the literal actually Hercules in one comic. Don't come at me yall, it can happen.

And if Marvel wants to add queer rep but is still shy about it, Morph would be a great start. It's like putting little kids into the shallow end of the water because the deep end is scary.

Morph only exists in the X-men cartoon and Exiles comics. Unless you're this tiny community on tumblr, no one gives a shit about Morph. When people think about their nostalgia for X-men 92, no one thinks of Morph. Their ass literally DIED in the first episode, wasn't even in the goddamn intro, and only appeared for like, 6 episodes, and they didn't even exist in the comics. So, paring up with Wolverine would be the "safe" option. It wouldn't be like pairing up Bucky with Sam or Cap (no matter how many people would love that), because no one knows who Morph even is. People would say, "Oh, Wolverine got with Morph!" and most people would reply with, "Who?" Safer option so less people get mad. Just dipping a foot into the pool of queerness, lol.

Yeah, it sucks that there has to be a "safe" option, but I'm also very attached ti this ship and Marvel needs to learn that queerness isn't some evil thing that drives away customers.

Tldr; Morpherine should be canon bcuz It would put an end go the Jogan love triangle, it already has good buildup, it leads to a happy ending for the gays,

#morpherine #wolverine #logan howlett #james logan howlett #morph #kevin sydney #xmen #x men #xmen 97 #x men 97 #xmen 92 #x men 92 #marvel #marvel comics

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emo-toaster · 1 day ago

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Okay, since chapter 6 of my beauty and the Beast fic isn't out yet, I wanna make it up to you!

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No warnings. Just fluff Headcanons

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Gyutaro - Dating Headcanons ๋࣭ ⭑⚝

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╰┈➤ It takes him quite a while to get used to the new relationship dynamics you have. He's overthinking a lot and doesn't know what to do at first. Trust me tho, when he gets the hang of it, finally, he'll be the sweetest boyfriend he can be. He'll sure try!

╰┈➤ Gyutaro will take anyone who shows him genuine affection and care. Male, Female, Non-binary, it doesn't matter. He's simply happy to have you.

╰┈➤ Gyutaro is usually the big spoon, occasionally he'll be the little spoon, it makes him feel better. Like he doesn't have to be the one to deal with every problem all the time, finally rest and be vulnerable.

╰┈➤ If you have long hair, he'll brush it and braid it. He used to do the same thing for Daki back when they were human, and it brings him comfort. He'll be over the moon if you do the same for him. Gyutaro is pretty touch-starved, so when your fingers go through his hair, brushing it, braiding... he'll melt.

╰┈➤ He isn't fond of mirrors. Even though he learned to be proud of his ugliness at some point, he's like that only with other people around. When he's alone, he truly hates his appearance. He'll often doubt himself, wondering if he even deserves you and all the good things that happened to him so far. Gyutaro will then claw at himself, muttering insults and curses directed at himself, well, at least until you find him and get him busy with cuddling with you instead. He'll need a lot of comfort and reassurance from you, but eventually he'll feel better.

╰┈➤ Expect a lot of random gifts from him. Pretty rocks, flowers, hairpins, sweets or anything he'll find good enough will go straight into your hands. Gyutaro will make sure that everything he brings makes you happy, so overtime he's gonna bring more and more stuff that you may like and find useful. Favourite sweets, accessories that go well with your favourite pieces of clothing, random trinkets in your favourite colour. Gyutaro will make sure to pay attention to your preferences.

╰┈➤ There will be a lot of learning, that's for sure. Gyutaro grew up poor and unlike his sister he didn't get great education afterwards. He can read and write alright, but his handwriting is pretty wonky and looks like chicken scratch, he makes hiragana and katakana characters look complicated or unrecognisable— he'll need help with reading too, he can read kanji of course, but it takes him a good minute or two to remember it's meaning.

╰┈➤ Since Gyutaro and his sister reside in the entertainment district of Yoshiwara, your dear demon boyfriend will make sure that no-one bothers you, and if they do...well, he'll take care of them alright. He's very protective of you and his sister, so anyone who messes with you or her will get the same treatment.

╰┈➤ It took a while for Daki to finally accept you. She wasn't very fond of you at the begging, but she grew to tolerate you. She doesn't see you as an equal tho, but she doesn't see any human as such, so it's nothing to worry about. Daki is acting pretty nice around you actually, putting on the sweet facade she also uses in the presence of Kyogoku House's owner. She'll keep all the nasty things she has to say to herself. At the bottom of her heart she is happy that her brother found someone for himself, and she doesn't necessarily want to ruin it.

╰┈➤ Gyutaro will ask you to become a demon. Once in a while he'll bring it up in a conversation, asking if you'd want that. If you refuse, he'll just ask you another time, but if you agree, he'll be more happy to give you his blood so you can join him and his sister.

╰┈➤ He probably doesn't have fleas anymore! Probably.

╰┈➤ It's very surprising, but from time to time Gyutaro tries to show off, prove that's he's good enough for you. He knows he isn't handsome, so if he's not gonna be the good-looking boyfriend, he'll be the strong one. Gyutaro will show off his strength a lot, at some point he'll also want to teach you about fighting with his sickles if you're willing to try. Gyutaro enjoys fighting, it's the first thing he was actually good at, so doing something related to it with you will bring him a lot of joy.

╰┈➤ He's pretty shy if it comes to kissing, but he'll try to be more confident for you. Just be patient with him, he still has so much to learn.

╰┈➤ It's not a surprise, but you're actually his first partner. Back when he was human people wouldn't go near him if possible, after he became a Demon people were even more terrified of him, so it's truly a miracle that he has you with him now.

╰┈➤ If you have a bit of a tummy, then there's nothing to worry about! Gyutaro will be very happy about that, after all it means that you're eating well and you don't go to sleep with an empty stomach. It makes him glad, knowing that you don't have to worry about the same hunger he felt so many times as a human. Besides, he'll love to lay his head on your stomach during your cuddling sessions.

╰┈➤ If you like painting your nails, he'll do it with you. Gyutaro has naturally dark nails ever since he became a demon, so if you like having black nail polish on, it will make him feel great. After all, you two now match! Any other colour will be fine too, but he's still more comfortable with darker shades.

╰┈➤ Well, Gyutaro never had the greatest hygiene, but for you'll he'll try his best. He likes when you take care of it tho, he can then do the same for you afterwards and it brings him comfort.

╰┈➤ he likes listening to your talking. You can yap about anything to him for hours and he'll just sit there with a dumb grin on his face, happy to learn more about your interest or the topics you like.

╰┈➤ Gyutaro doesn't have to sleep since he's a Demon, but from time to time he'll happily take a nap with you, and he'll definitely enjoy it.

╰┈➤ Once, when there was a spider in the room and you asked him to take care of it... he ate the damn spider. After that you begged him to never do that again, and now he just throws them out or kills with one of his sickles.

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#silly stuff #demon slayer #kny #gyutaro #gyutaro shabana #headcanon #gyutaro x reader #gyutaro x y/n #gyutaro headcanons

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darlingshane · 2 days ago

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new chapter

Joe Teague x F!Reader

Summary: On his wedding night, before he gets to spend some time alone with you, Joe listens to the conversation you're having with your daughter as you tuck her in. The little girl has some interesting questions regarding him and his new role in her life that you're happy to answer to put her at ease.

CW: +18, explicit, smut, oral sex (f. recieving), p in v sex, fluff, wedding night, pregnancy, dancing, established relationship, mention of past abuse, mention of divorce, set in the late 40s.

Word Count: 2,3k

— Links: AO3 // Joe Masterlist

Joe takes one final look around the first floor to make sure all doors and windows are locked before heading upstairs. The kitchen is a cluttered mess of dirty dishes piling in the sink from the casual reception you hosted right at the brand-new house. Dishes can wait till tomorrow. It's been a big day worthy of celebration and while it's sad to see it come to an end, he can't wait to see what this new chapter in his life with you brings him.

He's excited to see what the future holds, what these walls would tell ten or twenty years from now. This is where he's putting his roots, and he's betting everything on it that there won't be no bail this time. You are it for him. There's no doubt in his heart.

Though it’s neither his nor your first marriage, it feels just like it. The experience is completely different, given that both of you come with your own baggage; and kids in your case from your first marriage. You chose to have a simple ceremony at the courthouse, followed by a small reception at the house, and it couldn't have gone better. He can't get over how beautiful everything was. He knew you were special from the moment he met you, but the sense of pride and love he's felt today comes second to none. Not only did you look stunning in the custom dress you made yourself, but the way you've handled every little detail is something to admire.

He still has part of his uniform on when he steps into the hallway of the second floor to see you tuck Grace, your six-year-old, into bed. He leans on the door frame, listening to your voices through the cracked door.

“Mama, you look like a princess today,” she says as you pull the sheet over her body, folding it carefully at the hem as the little girl gets comfortable on her pillow. Just like Joe, you're still wearing your wedding dress with no shoes on.

“Thanks, baby. Did you have fun today?”

“Yeah, I wish you’d marry every day.”

“Every day? That’d be a lot of work with that many husbands.” She breaks into laughter along with you. “What was your favorite part?”

“The cake.”

“It was a great cake.” You agree, pushing a strand of hair off her face.

“Will you make me a dress like yours for my wedding day?”

“Sure, but first I need to know who you're marrying.”

“Hm, I don't know yet.” The little girl shrugs, holding a stuffed teddy bear in her embrace. “Someone like Joe, I guess.”

“Yeah? You like Joe?”

“He's pretty funny.”

“Pretty funny looking, I'd say.” Joe watches you glance over your shoulder, smiling at him.

“Is he my dad now? Should I call him daddy?”

“Only if you want to.” You sweetly caress her face. “Do you want Joe to be your daddy?”

She nods. “What if he doesn't want to? Is he going to be mean to us like my other daddy was?”

It breaks your heart hearing her express it like that at such a short age. As much as you tried to protect her, she was still aware of how awful her father was to you both. You thought she had forgotten about him after he died a few years ago, cause she was still a toddler. It was hard to explain to her that he didn't come back from war, but somehow your little girl understood that your lives turned for the better the moment he was gone. And surprisingly, she’s never mentioned him until now.

“Baby, I promise you, Joe is a good man. He’d never hurt us like that. We wouldn’t be here otherwise. You might see us sometimes argue, but I give you my word that no matter what, Joe loves us more than your daddy ever did. He’s going to take care of us, and we’re going to take care of him, okay? We’re family now. It doesn’t matter if you call him daddy or not, he’s gonna love you the same.”

Grace hugs her teddy bear tight as you watch her pondering for a moment in silence.

“Do you wanna ask him or do you want me to do it?”

“You do it.” She sticks out her finger and boops your nose.

“Alright, I'll do it.” You turn your head again to nod at Joe, beckoning him to come closer.

He steps into the room and bends down by the bed, propping a knee on the floor and holding his forearm on your lap.

“Hey, Gracie Jo.”

“Hi,” she says shyly, even though she's usually pretty chatty around him. But this is a big ask, you're aware, and a big step for all of you. “Mommy wants to ask you something.”

“Oh?” he gazes at you with a smile on his face, very aware of what you’re going to ask. It’s something you’ve talked about before, but you didn’t want to force Grace into accepting Joe as her father before she was ready.

“Gracie and I were wondering if you’d like to be her daddy.”

He fondly looks at you and then turns to her to assure her there's nothing he'd love more.

“It'd be an honor to be your dad, sweetheart,” he promises, placing a kiss on her forehead.

It melts your heart to see them both beaming in delight. You have no doubts that Joe would be up for the task to fill that role in her life better than anyone. You and Grace would've been fine with or without him in your life, but you're glad you got the opportunity to meet him and fall in love with him like this.

You curl up with Grace until she falls asleep and then retire to your new room.

You've got the house for a week now, but with all the arrangements for the wedding and the hassle of moving, you haven't had a minute to stop to look at it as your new home until now. There's still work to do, but you're proud of what you've accomplished to make it feel safe and comfortable for your daughter. That's all you needed. You're exhausted, but it was all worth it at the end. Hopefully, you'll be able to slow down in the next few days while everything settles.

When you step out of Grace’s room, you leave the door slightly ajar. Next to it, by the staircase there's your workspace, and a bathroom on the other side. There’s an empty bedroom in front of hers that would soon be filled with baby furniture for the little guy growing in your belly. You haven't told Grace yet, she would have babbled to everyone at the party that she was having a baby brother or sister, which is something she's been asking for years. In a couple of days, you and Joe will tell her and you know already she'll be over the moon.

At the end of the hallway is yours and Joe's bedroom. There's only a light coming from a night lamp when you go inside. There's music playing on the radio while he waits for you, sitting on the chair by the window. He still looks as handsome as this morning, when you first saw him fully dressed in his uniform. Now, his shirt is half unbuttoned, his pants are creased, and the shoes are off.

“Thought you’d be in bed by now, Mr. Teague,” you say as he stands up to meet you in the middle.

“I was waiting for you, Mrs. Teague.” He picks up your hand and brings it up to his lips to print a kiss on your knuckles. “I didn’t get a chance to dance with my bride today, I was hoping we could do it now. Would you like that, sweetheart?”

“I’d love that.” Your lips form a smile as he spins you around in the middle of the room before securing an arm around your waist.

You place your palms on his chest, smoothing the fabric of his shirt across the breadth of his chest, locking eyes with him for a moment before pillowing your head on his shoulder.

Closely tucked in his embrace, you both start moving your feet to the slow cadence of the song playing on the radio.

“I’m sorry we didn’t get to dance today. I wanted to do something small, I didn’t think that you’d—” you say softly before he cuts you off.

“Sweetheart, don’t apologize. It was perfect. I wanted something small, too. I told you I didn’t care for fanfare. I like it like this, just you and me.”

You lift your head to look at him. “You’re the sweetest man I’ve ever met. How did I get so lucky?”

“All it took was a robber. I’d like to thank him personally for bringing us together,” he quips.

That’s exactly how you met. The tailoring shop you work at got robbed about a year ago, and Joe was the lead detective on the case. It was a terrifying experience, but it gave you Joe, so you have to look at it as a blessing. After a couple of follow-up interviews, he started showing up casually around the neighborhood to check in the place here and there until the robber was caught red-handed again, trying to rob a jewelry shop a couple of blocks away. By that time, Joe didn’t have any more excuses to show up, so he started bringing some of his personal pieces of clothing to fix. First a jacket, then a couple of shirts, a pair of pants… Until one day he built up the courage to ask you out for a coffee. Before you realized it, you were falling madly in love with him. It was never in your cards to marry again, but Joe was the odds that changed your luck. He wasn’t only great to you as a boyfriend, but the way he treated your daughter played a major factor on that decision.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart? Is our little buddy behaving today?” He glances down at your still seemingly inconspicuous four-month bump hidden under the loose fitting of your dress.

“Hm, he’s been an angel. I haven’t been sick all day. Just a little tired.”

“Yeah? You’re ready to go to bed?”

“No. Not yet. When the song ends.”

You lock your arms tight around his neck as he lets his forehead touch yours before letting his lips crash with yours in a firm kiss that almost makes your legs crumble down to the floor. His arms anchor you in place as the sweet undoing of his kiss sends you somewhere closer to heaven.

As the melody fades, your bodies come alive against the other. The magnetic pull of your unwavering love guides your lips to fuse together in a hot frenzy of desire. It hurts so good, you can't help but moan in his mouth. When you grow breathless, you pull back and turn around so he can unzip your dress. You quickly shed every piece of clothing and undergarment to consummate your marriage for the first time as husband and wife. It helps that you've had sex many times before, otherwise you'd be ridden with anxiety. But everything has always been so easy with Joe, and this night is no different. He makes you feel desired in ways you've never experienced before. He evokes something so powerful inside, you can't speak coherently without tripping over your words. So you suffocate him with kisses and hold him for as long as you can.

As your lungs lose the ability to breathe properly, he places you down on the mattress. Your body buzzes with anticipation when he kneels at the foot of the bed. He climbs his way between your legs that he spreads open as far as they can stretch. He kisses the inside of your thigh from you knew up to your groin, making your skin rise into pimples all over. His lips make an urgent stop at your center to bury his tongue between your folds. The eagerness to taste you causes your legs to shake like an earthquake. His tongue collects the essence of your arousal as if he was a starving man. Your core wounds up in an impossible knot made of fire that is almost unbearable to contain. You have to cover your mouth to muffle the sinful sounds that come out of your lips.

“Joe, honey,” you pant, extending your hand to grip at his hair so he would climb on top of you. “I want you inside me.”

Following your request, he slithers up your body, nestling between your legs, letting you feel his hardness against your sex. He deliciously rubs himself on your folds before guiding his cock between your soaked lips.

One of his hands holds your jaw, while his forehead leans against yours. His hips slowly push inside you, capturing the warmness of your walls that contract gently around him every time your hips slant against his moves.

“God, I love you so much, sweetheart,” his voice comes out ragged as he ups the pace of his thrusting.

“Not as much as I love you.” You use your hands to press harder on his ass, so you can feel every inch of him filling you up to the hilt.

Joe presses his mouth open against yours, seizing your breath as he takes you to the final line where your orgasm comes crashing against his own. They merge together for a second, surrounding both of you in a cloud of elation that rushes through the tangled mess of your bodies like thunder. Your legs tremble as the flutter of your opening squeezes every drop out of his seed.

— Credits: beautiful divider by @cafekitsune

#bernthirst tv tribute #joe teague x reader #joe teague #mob city #jon bernthal #jon bernthal fanfiction #fanfiction #fluff #smut #darlingwrites

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postcardsfromheapside · 2 days ago

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No. I wasn't missing the point of most criticism. Literally, I saw post after post of people saying they wished the characters could be mean to each other. Some posts were more specific, like "I don't like Taash," (and I'm sure you can imagine what THAT'S about) and some were more ambigious but cited DA2 and how everyone was bitchy toward each other.

I honestly don't care where you work and what you do, because hopefully most of us after the age of 30 have experienced an adult job where we have to be reasonable with our coworkers, even if we strongly disagree, or outright dislike them. I had the suspicion that most people who think that there is "no conflict," or "low conflict" or "bad writing" in this game haven't experienced this kind of setting in any capacity. What I'm now hearing is that you might have, but you didn't absorb any of the dialogue, or switch out your party to listen to banter, which is an essential function for picking up information in any DA game.

I walked around Arlathan with Lucanis and Harding, and they have a whole ongoing conversation in which she threatens him with one of her special arrows. And he agrees that if Spite should take him over, she should do something about it. Harding isn't frightened, because Harding isn't a pushover, but she's not taking any shit either. Did you walk around with just the two of them right after recruiting Lucanis? Did you frequently visit the rest of the companions so that you could see just how much Lucanis and Davrin *didn't* get along? Neve mentions what sounded like a knock-down drag out fight.

**Just because this isn't explicitly mentioned to you doesn't make it bad writing - it means you haven't had the time we had with Inquisition to play the game over and over and switch out your party so you can see everyone's interactions with each other. You will actually have to play the game multiple times and switch your party out a fair amount in order to see these interactions. Or wait for people to post them to tumblr. You can complain about how unfair this is, or remember that Inquisition has 10 years on this game, and it's been out for just shy of a month.**

Why in the absolute fuck would Davrin manufacture conflict between himself and someone he could easily conjecture isn't pro-slavery based on the fact that within five minutes he could find out she's from Dock Town, she's a private investigator working with the Shadow Dragons, and LITERALLY WHEN YOU GET ONTO THE DOCK WITH HIM, her first priority as she's running back to Minrathous is to say "if the dragon wrecks havoc, the Venatori will take over." Davrin isn't an idiot, he could pretty well surmise that she's not "pro slavery" with only the barest of interactions and Rook saying "yeah Neve's cool."

Why would Neve yell at you? Why is it bad writing for the writers to give Neve a personality you don't agree with, because you're uncomfortable with how she reacts? Neve's an adult who is used to working on her own and people not showing up for her - she says this MULTIPLE TIMES - it's actually a large arc of bonding with her, as a friend and a lover. She's not going to scream at you, she's so far past the point of being loud about disappointment, she's on the other side, for one, and for another, she does in fact understand that the entire North of Thedas is on fire and blighting Treviso is pretty fucking bad when it has no major defenses. Rook doesn't endlessly apologize. She came back after a short pause and while I didn't have her healing abilities after that, it didn't take long for me to boost my bond with her back up and feel like we were friends again.

This honestly feels like you're having a personal reaction that you need to examine, and it's not something to do with the writing, since the game mechanics and the dialogue don't actually bear out what you're putting down here.

All of the companions who have conflict initially have to figure out how to trust each other and it sometimes takes most of the game for them to do that. If you didn't spend the time listening to their banter as they work their way through it, that's not Bioware's problem. That's you. And...I don't want to have repeated conversations where I go into Emmrich's (my romance) room and "vent"? I didn't do that with Cullen. I didn't do that with Anders. Why would it suddenly be a thing here? But if you listen in to people's conversations, they do express dismay and doubt and fear about the various quests they've been on. Again, it feels like you didn't spend the time eavesdropping or taking people out and listening to banter.

I have no idea what you're talking about with flirting. I flirted with every companion at first even though I knew I was running for Emmrich, and all of them responded according to their personality. I romanced Cullen in Inquisition, and he was pretty quiet initially, until you get to Skyhold, and similarly, most of the companions here retain a certain reticence until the game progresses. But if you're looking for people who get flustered - Lace and Bellara absolutely do! And Emmrich isn't flustered, but he's taken aback a few times before he collects himself and flirts back - though whether you'd actually recognize it for flirting, I'm starting to wonder. The fact that you can't tell with Neve is actually making me tilt my head at the screen, and I say this as a self-confessed disaster who is very very bad at knowing someone is interested. Even I can tell what's going on in DA romances.

This is probably a lost cause, but I urge you to either spend time playing the game again, or watch someone else who really loves DA (and is Veilguard positive) play so that you can watch without being in the thick of it, and hopefully experience more dialogue and different choices.

No, I'm not done yet, I'm house sitting and she left me snacks and soda and not even god could keep me from venting my spleen at this point.

"I wish the companions were meaner to each other in this game, like in DA2."

While I think there's a larger argument to be made discussing the similarities between DA2 and Veilguard, I need everyone to get so close to me right now about a glaring difference:

DA2 involved a ragtag group of assholes with their own agendas coalescing around Hawke's personality or exchange of favors. There was no larger "goal," except maybe Varric's expedition - everything else is encountered as circumstance. You wend your way through your companions' stories while a city winds ever tighter into itself, a spring about to literally explode.

There's zero reason for these people to be nice to each other. They have no point in being around each other except Hawke. They can bitch at each other all they like.

Rook becomes Varric's second in command (I've seen one post say it's about 6 months before the events of the game) with an explicit purpose: find and stop Solas. Harding and Neve are recruited as experts in their respective fields for this particular goal. When it all goes to shit, Neve recruits another expert, Lucanis, to deal with the fallout, and Harding finds Davrin, *also* an expert in his field (monster hunting). When Rook has to make a particularly consequence heavy decision, two more are added to the crew: Emmrich (Fade expert) and Taash (dragon expert). All of these people are extremely competent, and know from the jump that they have one particular goal in mind.

They join ready to work together on Day 1 because if they don't, there's simply no other alternative. It's lights out. Even when they mistrust each other, the direness of the situation is not lost on them. Infighting serves no purpose. That's why the struggle is directed inward: clean up your own house, so we can move as a single unit.

Honestly the fact that what people took away from this game was "I wish my friends were meaner to each other" and not "wow, I wish we all worked together to keep evil dictators from taking over" is fucking mindblowing when I sit back and reread this.

#fandom critical #datv #dragon age: the veilguard

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starrycassi · 3 hours ago

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VERY old and uncooked au I have where Viktor (and eventually jayce) end up working for Silco.

PART 1 - VIKTOR (childhood, adolescence, survival)

Singed actually takes the child in. Yeah I know Viktor technically HAS parents but we've never seen em in the show so I'm ignoring them

So Viktor now lives + works for singed. He gets over his morals real quick when faced with a fully equipped laboratory. He's a child, okay? He gets excited and is eventually groomed (I don't mean romantically, just like molded) by singed into agreeing + obeying all the things the older man tells him. Silco joins in on the part later and toys with his brain as best as he can

Singed uses him as a bargaining chip with Silco. An investment, if you will.

A bit of a "future promise" thing. Viktor actually agrees to this because he knows it's the best shot he's got. All the years living alongside Singed have made him into a more cynical/realistic person. He's 13 and already grumbles at "kids these days"

And Silco is an opportunistic man. He looks at this young, blooming genius and goes "yeah, why not? He is your problem, though. Have some money and make me a bomb"

Viktor also gets a pretty decent gun and shooting lessons. His aim is decent enough. He also hangs around sevika A LOT. He recognizes her as the strongest, safest individual if a fight breaks out and tells her ad much. She won't admit it but the praise feels good. She allows him to hover around and he helps her with small things like lighting hee cigarettes or refilling her flask. It's a symbiotic relationship where they both look at each other dead in the eye when someone is saying stupid shit.

So Viktor is like 15 and suddenly faced with even MORE power and recognition, even MORE fundings and accomodations.

This boy pours his life and time into making weapons. His dreams of being a scientist are slowly forgotten as both Singed and Silco effectively turn him into their perfect little genius.

They turn his desire to help against himself, telling him that the only way the under city will ever get better is if they go against piltover and win (which yeah I mean it kinda makes sense) and just general promises and such

Silco is genuinely surprised by how inventive the kid can be, and in return Viktor appreciates the man's offers and words for what it is: a trap he's wilfully walking in.

Silco does NOT feel any affection for the kid. At least not a lot more than he does for sevika or any other loyal worker. He is amused by his intelligence and somewhat entertained by his ideas. He seems Viktor as more of a small dog he's raising, expecting him to develop sharper and sharper fangs. He does care for Viktor in the "one of my youngest workers is more efficient and savvy than five of yours" way

Viktor doesn't feel any affection for Silco, either. He's a really down-to-earth kid, has lived in the fissures all his life and has been coached by singed into how to navigate the under city. He knows singed doesn't really trust the man and doesn't plan on doing so himself. He does love the opportunity he's given, but knows damn well that it's all done for a higher reason.

He does feel a connection with singed, though. It's mutual in a way. More of a mentor-mentee thing than any paternal/familiar relationship, but they're both satisfied with it. Singed respects Viktor and treats him as an equal, which also means he can a bit too harsh on what is essentially still a fragile teen.

They are protective of Viktor only in the way one is protective of their own gun

PART 2 - VIKTOR (last of his teen years, young adulthood, rage)

EVENTUALLY Viktor manages to worm his way into the academy (in the same way he did in canon) while hiding from Silco, Singed and Sevika, and is, instead, rejected. Heimerdinger is too weary of Viktor and his general attitude (for a good reason) and plans on having him interrogated. When he tries to get Viktor to walk alone into a room with him, Viktor panics and starts stuttering out explanations. He knows his position in the under city is conditional. Knows the leash that Silco has around him. The academy could be his safe haven and now he's losing it.

Heimerdinger does his best to try and calm him down, however, every word he says makes the situation worse. He's so clearly out of touch, promising things that could never be done.

Viktor is under a lot of pressure and just starts spiraling. Everything the yordle says makes things worse and worse. The commotion calls the school guards attention and Viktor gets almost thrown in jail, all while heimerdinger tries to tell the guards to let him go. Viktor eventually manages to sneak out but fucks his leg up even more in the process.

He returns "home" and, refusing to cry for such a thing, turns his sadness into bright, burning indignation. Silco might be an idiot, he realizes, but he's right about some things. He burns down the uniform after ripping it into shreds.

After all of this, he abandons any dream of ever getting out. Singed looks at him knowingly, tells him that sneaking around is a fine art he hasn't mastered yet, and leaves. Silco welcomes him back with a satisfied smile, and a "see, boy? I was right"

Silco isn't killing Viktor for his betrayal because he smells the heartbreak and KNOWS that this is the time to attack if he wants that boy to be on his side for the rest of his life. Sevika isn't even mad. Just kinda disappointed.

And it WORKS. Viktor is devastated and isolated, and Silco effectively positions himself as the only current logical option. Viktor knows that this is all a shit show but decides that there's nothing to lose by working for the biggest kingpin on the city

Years go by, Viktor becomes part of silco's inner gang. He develops what could be seen as a friendship with sevika. They drink together every so often, trash-talking the rest of the henchmen in hushed whispers in between assignments. She tries to give him life advice in cryptic ways. He kinda gets it. Most of the time.

He's also a bit of a slut. I mean he's young, hot, kinda part of Zaun's elite, smart... yeah he's getting around. This part is important I swear. No it's not I just want Viktor to get it on. He's constantly sneaking pretty boys in and out of wherever he's staying at that week (idk where the fuck sevika sleeps. Do silco's henchmen just sleep in his house??? Does he provide apartments?? I need to know)

People in the under city actually start *talking* to Viktor as he gets older, realizing that he's a bit less violent than the rest of silco's thugs. This is always weird to him but he endures it for the sake of staying on top of what's being said in the city.

He buys from benzo frequently, and Benzo tolerates him because once, very slowly and in a hushes tone, he heard Viktor tell Ekko to never work for anyone with a shark aquarium.

PART THREE - MEETING JAYCE.

He's in the very same shop when he meets jayce.

He goes "yeah I could get him to suck me off probably" and tries to approach

And then jayce pays in GOLD and DOESN'T HAGGLE

And he realizes that this idiot is a piltie. He also realizes that whatever the fuck he just bought could've been useful for him and silco will not like it if a PILTIE out of everyone takes them. He literally gets in between him and the door with absolutely no idea of what he's going to do (there is absolutely no way he's upping that payment sorry silco you are no match for the Kirammans)

There is no time and he defaults to "oh this is my bedroom" mode.

Cue him saying something like "I've never seen such a pretty face in this store. Are you from around here, darling?"

Ekko is gagging in the background.

They flirt yada yada I have the scene but it's too long to write here. U get the idea. I'd anyone wants to read that ask me but for now just use your imagination

Viktor offers Jayce to come back with him to his house. Ask this is happening the kids are staging the heist.

They make out a bit, Jayce tells Viktor all about his theory (which is arguably hotter for Viktor) and shows him his notes (because obviously he carries his journal with him)

Viktor is BLOWN AWAY by this. He gets all worked up. Never felt this horny before. They discuss for a while, and Viktor decides that THIS is something he can stand behind. Actual discoveries, not just drawing blueprints after blueprint of the same fucking thing

Really how many ways can one design a weapon in

Anyways

Viktor sort of mildly drugs jayce and steals three of the shiny orbs and then wakes Jayce up and tells him that this was delightful and such.

PART FOUR - Hey Silco Can We Adopt This Boy. For Science

The heist happens the very same way. Viktor hears about it, about the trial, and decides that all these years of work should get him some privileges

He has his very first actual fight with Silco and Singed about it, but they eventually and very reluctantly agreed to give him two bodyguards so he can go play prince and break jayce out of jail.

Silco knows that even a worm will turn. If Jayce does agree to work for them, then they get another good worker. If not, they can always kill him. He's never heard Viktor this adamant about someone before, and damn he's seen the boy walk around with some pretty faces. Maybe this Jayce fella truly is smart.

Viktor breaks jayce out do NOT ask me how #thepoweroflove or whatever. The henchmen get to punch enforcers so they're happy about it.

The "am I interrupting?" Scene happens. It's also too long so.

It takes Viktor a while to convince Jayce to, yk, betray his country and leave everything he's ever known behind, but Jayce was literally about to kill himself and Viktor is talking about change and help and people who actually need it (lies) and he looks so beautiful under the moonlight and he remembered him. So. Really what can one realistically do in this situation if not agree.

They rush back, Jayce leaves a hasty suicide note and says he will drown himself in the river, they break into heimerdinger's room via breaking down the fucking door, steal all the equipment they can carry (henchmen & co brought some bags okay??)

When Mel arrives they're gone. She calls for the guards to come but they're long gone (there might be a motorcycle involved. Cyclists Viktor... Yeah)

PART FIVE - JINX AND JAYCE

Viktor shows up and finds out that silco has adopted a child. Also Sevika doesn't have an arm. Also Vander is dead. So is Benzo. Which is a bummer.

Jayce hates everything that's going on around him buts this man is SUICIDAL he's just kinda going with the flow. Having him gives Viktor his backbone and morals back. Slowly. Ver slowly.

Hextech develops WAY slower. Like they're working in a drug den there's absolutely no way there's the same conditions. They're doing their best though.

Jayce Is actually really impressed by shimmer and how it can "help" people. He's gaslighting himself ATP and everyone else is enabling him.

Also eventually Silco also gives Viktor a laced brace that makes him mildly addicted to shimmer. Viktor is clever enough to realize what's going on but also experienced enough to know that refusal would be seen as an offense. He takes the brace on and off with his own prototypes. Sevika and him both know they're just digging themselves into a deeper hole.

Silco actually tries to kill jayce one because he was getting too fucking annoying, but Jinx steps in. He reminds him of claggor (in a way). She claims that they're both her friends and silco just seethes in silence.

They help raise her. Kinda.

I wrote all of this so I could successfully say that they have a tea party with jer

THEY LOVE LIL JINX OKAAY. Specially jayce. He takes all his emptiness and tries to fill it with love for her and Viktor, the only two people he feels are kind of honest to him

Also Jayce being jealous of the fact that Viktor got around, specially when he has the audacity to give powder boy's advice (sevika is a STONE TOP LESBIAN you can NOT tell me anything else) right in Jayce's face. Yeah. Miscommunication. Falling in love. Devotion and guilt. Feelings of owing. Hesitant kisses and never said words. YEEES. I know it's a bit tropey but I like it so. Yeah.

Also both Jayce and Vik have long hair. Jinx insisted they let it grow like hers. Jayce's actually reaches his shoulder plates/mid back while Viktor keeps it shoulder length, just long enough to tie it. I think. Still haven't decided since long hair Jayce is too hard to mentally picture but I know he would look GOOD.

I have more ideas but this was way too long already

If u read this far u can actually ask for a small scene on the au or add an idea and I'll write it for u

#jayce talis #jayvik #jayce x viktor #arcane au #jayvik au #jinx arcane #arcane silco #silco and jinx #sevika arcane #Arcane #please don't flop #i wish my mind was this talkative in the middle of essays #DOES ANYONE SEE THE VISION #yes this is technically a corruption au ig #i have no idea how s2 would fit in here #i just want jayvik to be actual mad scientists yk. like yes I need to commit Several Crimes

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silverynight · 2 days ago

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The roommate

<---Previous

Part XXVI

"What's your ideal date, Izuku?"

Perhaps it's just an innocent question, but Izuku is so tense because of the mission, he immediately has a bad feeling about the whole situation. Besides, even though he's usually friendly towards anyone, the way Toga is grabbing his arm is making him want to put some distance between them as soon as possible.

"Uhh... it used to be going to the park or maybe a fair and share a crepe with the person I like–"

"Are you hungry, Izuku? Do you want a crepe?" Toga asks, blushing even more.

"No, thanks... I actually have to go."

"Why?" Kana cuts in, the moment she notices that Toga looks disappointed. For the most part, she left them alone; she seemed happier walking right behind the two and not engaging in their conversation at all.

"My boyfriends are waiting for me," Izuku blurts out, not knowing if it's the right thing to do at the moment. He knows he should be trying to pretend things aren't going that great in his relationship, but right now there's nothing he wants more than to see them again.

The grip Toga has around his arm tightens and it becomes slightly painful.

"You're hurting me," he points out and Toga squeezes him even tighter against her before she lets him go.

Izuku doesn't like Toga at all. She makes him feel uncomfortable and nervous.

"They'll eventually hurt you," Toga narrows her eyes. "They don't deserve you."

Izuku starts wondering if Toga is one of those people who started sympathizing with the heroes' haters after Kana was released and shared the villain's ideals with the world or if she was always like that due to personal experiences.

"They love me and they try their best," Izuku argues; the need to defend them is stronger than anything else. "I can't ask for more. Besides, I make mistakes too. Nobody is perfect."

"Pro heroes certainly aren't," Toga huffs, getting more irritated with Izuku's response. "But people seem to think they are."

"Some of them do," he agrees. "But not all of them. It's truly a mistake to idealize people, not only pro heroes. They are human too and although they shouldn't get away with crimes just because of their position, we shouldn't judge them too hard when they make harmless mistakes."

Toga shakes her head, but doesn't argue with Izuku because she doesn't have anything to say to that.

"I don't trust pro heroes and you shouldn't either."

"I trust Kacchan and Shoto."

She hisses and Kana doesn't look happy either, but Izuku stays calm, mostly because there's a lot of people around. Although he shouldn't feel like this; they're just two girls with strong opinions.

"I must go. It was a pleasure to meet you," Izuku tells Toga, before waving at Kana.

It looks like Kana wants to say something else, but Toga stops her; Izuku has never been that relieved to leave a shopping center before.

As he walks away and into a street nearby, he finally has the time to read Hagakure's texts; she apparently didn't like Toga at all and decided to ask Yaoyorozu to find out more about her.

"Izuku."

He hears Shoto's voice and he definitely bumps into a broad chest and a hero suit that looks exactly like his, but as soon as Izuku looks up and stares into familiar mismatched eyes he is completely sure this is not his Shoto.

He knows Hagakure is still following him because it's part of the deal, but he wonders that now that she's seen his "boyfriend" she would go back to the agency immediately.

"Hi," he mumbles nervously before he takes his phone to text her quickly, but a pair of hands snatch it off his as they also take Izuku's groceries.

"Let me help you with that."

"You know what?" Izuku smiles, trying to look as calm as possible. "I forgot something, I need to go back to the mall."

"I know you're really smart, Izuku and I'm sure you know this is not your stupid boyfriend. But you'll have to come with me–"

"Hagakure!" He screams. "This is not Shoto!"

The villain makes such a disgusted expression that looks so foreign on Shoto's features that it makes Izuku to instinctively take a couple of steps back. He's ready to run.

"There's a pro hero here?" The fake Shoto hisses. "I should've known!"

Then he takes a knife out and Izuku has the sudden feeling (maybe because of his nightmares or the way Toga approached him earlier) that he has finally solved a complex puzzle.

"Toga?"

"I told you to call me Himiko!" She hisses again with Shoto's face before stabbing him.

Izuku screams in pain.

"What are you doing? You told me you weren't going to hurt him!" Is that Kana's voice? She doesn't sound happy anymore.

"I won't kill him. He just needs to learn a lesson!"

Izuku wishes she stopped using his boyfriend's face and voice because it hurts to see Shoto trying to harm him, even though Izuku knows it's not the real one.

Then, she removes the knife, which is even more painful; he knows it'll also make him bleed profusely. Then, something collides with Toga, and she begins to turn back into her original form.

A blond, naked, but wild young woman willing to do anything for what she wants.

Although Izuku is not sure what she wants at the moment, the only thing he knows is that he's bleeding, feels dizzy and his knees can't support him anymore.

He falls to the ground as he realizes Hagakure is the one fighting Toga.

There are a couple of people in that area now and some of them are calling an ambulance and others the police and asking to be transferred to a hero agency.

A couple of them are taking videos of what's going on. At least they have Toga's transformation on their phones now.

Everything's confusing.

"I'm sorry! I didn't know she was going to hurt you!" Kana is at his side now, although Izuku can't be that sure; his vision has become blurry out of the sudden.

He's going to pass out.

"She's confused, but she means well..."

There's a scream, but this time it comes from Toga.

"What did you do? You blinded me!"

Izuku nerd's heart would have loved to see how Hagakure managed to do that with her quirk; he has seen her on YouTube videos a couple of times... does she reflect light to the point–

His vision turns completely black for a second.

Maybe it's not the time for hero combat analysis.

"Die!"

The familiar, absolutely rude yell comforts Izuku immediately and even the explosion that follows it.

"Izuku, love, are you alright?"

For a second, he flinches at the sight of Shoto, but one look tells him this is his boyfriend, the real one.

"It's alright, Izuku. It's me, please..."

He feels safe now, despite the pain and the amount of blood that's coming from his open wound; Izuku had been trying to stop it with his hands, but he's too weak to put pressure on it.

His vision is turning black again.

"Izuku, don't close your eyes," Shoto pleads, desperate, worried; Izuku is almost sure he's about to cry. "Stay with me. The paramedics are here–Izuku!"

"IZUKU!"

His Katsuki is getting closer now, but he can't stay awake anymore.

At least he's with them again.

***

He wakes up a couple of times; the first one he's inside an ambulance and the paramedic is asking a few questions to Katsuki.

"Izuku?"

His eyes can't stay open for too long.

The next time he's on a bed, in a room that smells too clean and covered on light blue sheets.

"Are you alright, baby?"

Izuku beams as he looks up at Katsuki; he's being extremely soft and gentle with him because he's worried. He also looks tired and like he's about to break.

"Love?"

Shoto is there too, which makes Izuku feel better immediately; he's still dizzy, but there's no pain now, although Izuku suspects they gave him a couple of painkillers for that.

Suddenly, his boyfriends take his hands and lean closer to him.

"I'm glad you're here," he manages to say.

"Don't you dare scare us like that again!" Katsuki huffs, trying to hide his own concern, but he intertwines his fingers with Izuku's. His eyes are red; he must've been crying. Shoto doesn't look any better.

"I was scared." The man with mismatched eyes admits.

"It's okay," Izuku smiles, pulling them closer (one at a time) to give them both a kiss on the forehead. "I'm here."

***

You can read Part XXVII, Part XXVIII and Part XXIX on my patreon already.

Patreon

#mha #bnha #my hero academia #bkdk #tddk #bakugou katsuki #izuku midoriya #bakudeku #shouto todoroki #tododeku

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crowinkwriting · 3 days ago

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Something New Part 3

Part 2: Here

[I FINALLY FINISHED IT!!!!!!!! Here is another chapter. I will work on part 4 but I'm going to take a short break to focus on some of my other AUs and stories. Here is Rook's family tree so this chapter makes a bit more sense. Spite doesn't understand babies and that's okay.]

Rook and her older sister look down at the small infant in the crib as he naps. The elf had an uncertain smile, never being overly fond of children herself. “He’s cute.” Jewl comments.

“Thanks.” Rook says, giving her sister a small smile. Despite Jewl’s hesitation towards children Rook still appreciated that she had come by anyways.

“How’ve you been?” Jewl asks, her smile turning to a look of concern.

“Tired.” Rook admits. “But I’ve had a lot of help. So I can’t complain that much.”

Over the past 5 days Rook had a lot of help from Teia and Lucanis, but they were both busy today. Still Rook knew she wasn’t alone. Even with her sister here Rook knew there were at least a few Crows guarding the villa.

Jewl’s visible concern didn’t seem to go away.”Is Lucanis helping?” She asks quietly.

“He has been. He’s just busy today.” Rook tries to explain, giving her sister a reassuring smile.

“Still… What about when he’s not here? Are you just alone?”

“No. Illario is next door.” Rook jokes, earning a sigh from her big sister.

“That’s not better.” Jewl says, annoyed.

Regardless, Rook still let out a tired giggle at her own comment. Finding it much funnier than Jewl clearly did. Jewl just rolled her eyes. Half asleep and her little sister still could never take anything seriously. Dante though had started to cry as he woke up. “Oh no.” Rook muttered as she turned her attention back to the baby. As Rook lifted the baby from the crib Jewl took a step back. She just watched as Rook tried to check what was wrong with the baby. Eventually the baby quieted down, content with just being held by his mother.

“I will admit… I wasn’t expecting to get a new nephew so soon.” Jewl comments.

“What do you mean?” Rook asked, not looking up from the baby.

“You just got married.”

At that Rook just shrugs a little. “It’s just how it happened.” She responded.

Jewl just continued to stand back and let Rook look after the baby. It surprised Jewl a little, how much more mature Rook seemed only after a few years. Still, she couldn’t help but feel her little sister was too young. It only felt like yesterday the two were learning how to tie knots on their mother’s boat, only a few years since Jewl left Rivain and Rook behind to join the Shadow Dragons. Rook had changed so much since then, she was an adult now, and she had saved Theades. The long scar across Rook’s face though was a constant reminder to Jewl that they weren’t all good changes.

“Was it his idea?” Jewl asked, looking around the large room. Rook let out a loud sigh at the question. “No. This is something we both agreed on.” She says, the mildest hint of annoyance in her tone.

She didn’t appreciate what her sister was trying to imply. Jewl was slowly growing more accepting of Lucanis, but Rook couldn’t help but notice her weak attempts to find something about him to pick at. Jewl knew better though to push it further.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rook stood a few feet back holding the baby while Lucanis was sitting on the bed. The two had talked about it and wanted to try and talk to Spite again. Not trying to come to some kind of understanding with Spite would only make things worse. He was confused and when he was confused he tended to lash out.

“Are you sure?” Lucanis asked, cautious of Spite’s reaction.

“Please? He’s not going to get any easier if we don’t talk to him.” Rook reminds him.

Lucanis sighed, but relented. He closed his eyes and when they reopened there was a familiar purple glow. Rook gives the demon a small smile. “You want to talk?” Spite asked, seeming curious. Rook gives him a short nod before stepping a bit closer. “Listen, I know me and Lucanis could have done this better… but you’re going to be part of Dante’s life, and I know everything changing hasn’t been easy for you.” She explains.

Spite, for once, was completely quiet. He was usually very reactive and talkative even when there was nothing to talk about, but for once he just sat still. He looked at Dante and then back at Rook.

His silence though had begun to make Rook rather uneasy. He noticed as Rook glanced around the room, something she’d do if she was nervous. Though Spite couldn’t quite figure out why she was so nervous. Lucanis liked when he was quiet, but it just seemed to make Rook more upset.

“Spite?” Rook speaks up after a few moments.

“Why?”

“Why What?”

“Why are you fond of it? Why does Lucanis want it?” Spite asks. This time there was no annoyance or aggression. If anything the demon sounded confused.

“Because he’s our baby.” She explains.

Spite blinked at that.

“Ours?”

“... Yes. Our. Me and Lucanis’s … and yours too, if you’re okay with that.” She explained, nervously. Rook took another step closer and sat on the bed beside him. Dante was already asleep, content to be held by his mother. Spite goes quiet yet again, watching Dante. The spirit almost seemed nervous in a way but Rook couldn’t quite be sure. “I am not fond of this… baby. Not like Lucanis is.” He finally admits.

Rook gave him a reassuring smile and placed her hand on his shoulder. “That’s okay. It’s not the same for everyone. Sometimes it takes time.” She explained. Spite didn’t bother looking up and just continued to watch the baby.

It takes time.

#dragon age veilguard #lucanis dellamorte #veilguard spoilers #dragon age #da spite #rook x lucanis #lucanis x rook #lucanis x rook x spite #inky laidir #jewl laidir #dante dellamorte

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mischasphone · 3 days ago

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Umm... longest yap ever. Also sorry for the amount of times I talk about Majestic Repertory.

1. Majestic Repertory Theatre's production of RTC (Nevada).

2. My favorite characters are Misha, Ricky, and Constance. I also love Talia a lot, I just don't like that we know basically nothing about her.

3. I really love Jane Doe, but she'd probably be my least favorite. The concept of her character is really fascinating and I love the eeriness, and I get that it's the point no one knows anything about her, but it's easier to favor a character if I actually know what they are like and more about them.

4. My favorite songs are either Talia or Sugar Cloud. Not just because they're my favorite characters solos, but because of how gorgeous they are. Talia is a heartbreaking song and I love how much Mischa is pining for Talia. Sugar Cloud is such a sweet song and it simultaneously makes me cry because of how happy it makes me and how sad it makes me.

5. My least favorite song is Every Story's Got a Lesson. It's catchy, but doesn't really live up to the other songs.

6. From favorite to least favorite, this is my ranking of the openers,

Tragic Fact from 2013 Canadian Tour. The vocals are so ominous to me and I love how it's actually mostly accurate to what happened to Uranium City and how it essentially fell.

Waiting For The Drop from 2018 Seattle run. It is such a catchy and fun song and I specifically love the "round and round" when it sounds like it's echoing, and the end when their bodies are tossing around and it sounds like they're screaming and then just stop and become calm.

U-R-A-N-I-U-M from the 2015 transition from Canada to America. The overlapping vocals that sound a little bit like screaming, Jane's high note that normally lasts a long time in the Fall Fair Suite's just falling and never lasting, Rielle's voice in specific, it's just all so good.

Fall Fair Suite from 2016 NYC Off-Broadway. In specific, the part that went viral on TikTok is my favorite. Especially Gus Halper's voice in that specific part. It's just also very fun.

Fall Fair Suite from 2015 Chicago. Again, it's very fun and funky. LOVE Misha beatboxing randomly.

The Uranium Suite from 2019 Atlanta + all the productions afterwards. Listen, it's a very good song and I love the overlapping, but it is a little bland compared to the others and it's also just a watered down version of Tragic Fact.

7. My favorite cut song is probably Play to Win. It's a horrible song lyrically in a moral aspect and the lyrics are disgusting, but it is very unfortunately catchy.

8. Corey is definitely my favorite cut character. He's just such a silly and fun guy. His rap is a little disturbing in some parts but I fw it.

9. Probably the least popular opinion I have is that ships aren't necessary. I'm saying this as a multishipper and as someone who loves rare pairs, while ships are very fun, they aren't necessary to the plot and I would love the show just as much if there was absolutely nothing romantic or something that could be seen as romantic in it. Emily Rohm has also spoken on that, that she's open to no ships and she's also open to most ships and I agree.

10. I have a lot of favorite ships... I basically like every single non problematic ship in the show, but my top three are probably Pitchperfect (Misha and Ocean), Starrypoets (Ricky and Noel), and Soundcloud (Misha and Constance).

Pitchperfect because I unfortunately love the good girl x bad boy trope. I also love the development they go through from Ocean blatantly being a bad person to Misha, to her slowly warming up to him and them interacting more and learning to tolerate each other, to them fully being friends (or more).

Starrypoets because how similar yet different they are, and how they could potentially bond over that. Noel is nihilistic and sees the beauty in death, leaving life behind while Ricky is existentialist and sees the beauty in life and humanity, I could see them talking about it together and maybe debating. I also like that they both are someone else in their dreams and daydream a lot, they could also potentially talk about that together. I especially love to imagine Ricky adding a cat into the Zolar universe but it's Monique as a cat, or Noel creating a client that goes to Monique, but it's just Space Age Bachelor Man prior to becoming a cat and living on Zolar himself. In the Majestic Repertory Theatre production, they also interact a lot more and are sort of a friend group with Constance.

Soundcloud because of the thought of Misha sort of being a protector for Constance and being her biggest supporter. Constance is insecure while Misha is confident, and I like to imagine Misha helping her to build confidence. During TSIA, Constance is also a main part and I personally like to think about how it meant she could've been a feature on some of his raps.

11. Besides the obvious ones (Noel x any girl, Ricky x Ocean, etc.) I personally don't like Perfectdolls. I'm not a huge fan of Jane Doe ships in general, I like some but I don't like Perfectdolls because of how mean and distant Ocean was up until the birthday scene and as soon as she started talking nicely about Jane Doe, she switched the topic back to herself and then ended up sending Jane back. While it is the perfect setup for a forbidden love, which I like, I hate how it's set up in this specific ship.

12. Ray Winters (Majestic Rep) , Emily Rohm (American Tour) , Alex Wyse (2016 NYC), Gus Halper (2016 NYC), Ella Culbreath (Stone Productions), the entire cast of Majestic Rep in general, Lillian Castillo (American Tour), Rielle Braid (Canadian Tour).

13. I don't really have a specific answer for this one, but Majestic Rep and Station Theatre have really good representations for almost every ship. There's also another theatre that does really good with basically every Jane Doe ship, which like I said, I don't really like normally but this theatre does really well to portray them. I don't remember the theatre name. ☹️

14. Umm... again, the way every character in the Majestic Rep production is portrayed scratches my brain so well. I also really like how Karnak is portrayed by Karl Hamilton (American Tour).

15. Is this is a safe place to say that my favorite versions of every song is the Majestic Rep production. I feel annoying for talking about it so much but the brain rot is real.

16. The best set is the one from California State University, Stanislaus. The ginormous clown with a broken rollercoaster track coming out its mouth is actually the coolest thing ever, and I love how cramped and cluttered it looks, especially because they are in a warehouse so obviously it would be pretty cluttered. My favorite costume designs are the ones from Arkansas University because I love the light pink. And unfortunately, McCarter Theatre also has really good costume designs, especially in Talia even though I hate that production.

17. Honestly, any performance of Talia is my favorite vocal wise. Also, Stone Productions' version of the Ballad of Jane Doe, 2016 NYC's Space Age Bachelor Man, Majestic Rep's Sugar Cloud, also any song sung by Rielle Braid or Sarah Jane Peltzer.

18. Ocean being a hypochondriac. Noel being a maladaptive daydreamer. Misha religiously listening to Eminem. Talia doing photography and sending the pictures to Misha. Ricky also developing maladaptive daydreaming. Jane Doe having a weird arsenal of odd facts adding onto the one about lions. Constance watching animated kids shows still.

19. I personally really like the canvas theory, which is Jane Doe being a canvas everyone else gets to project onto, especially in Talia. How in the American Tours, she's the one in front for the choreography and is the main one being projected onto, Misha could be using the lack of identity there for a canvas for Talia. As well as the Savannah scene too. I also really like the theory that the cyclone malfunctioning was mainly on purpose. One of my friends had told me that their theory was that because of how many times Jane Doe refers to fathers and killing children (her catchphrase and "time eats all his children in the end" during TBOJD) that the cyclone malfunctioning had something to do with Penny Lamb's father. At first, I didn't really like that theory but then I watched Emily Rohm's video about how the cyclone malfunction was caused in her personal opinion, and I agree with it fully now. Basically it's Penny Lamb's father messing with it planning on scaring her but not realizing that he messed with it so badly that it fully derailed the thing and killed everyone.

20. Umm... my fanfic that I'm writing! I don't really read many fanfics, so idk.

21. mercywashere, winnie.macjinnie, silly.fran7, severedh3ad, zolarianstarcluster, idk-tbh-idk, NEWDARLINGZ, splish_splash_im_trash, 4pplec0re

22. Yes! I have an OC named Liz (cause I like my name) and she is the weirdest girl in town. She's kind of just a very peculiar girl who prefers to keep to herself unless she's talked to first. The type of girl to skip around in a forest alone. The type of girl who was really fascinated with bugs growing up while all the other children were scared. The type of girl who dressed absurdly unlike everyone else and is made fun of for it. The type of girl to know a gross amount of facts about every subject. She's also a huge hypochondriac because I am too, and autistic like me, which is a huge reason she's called weird because no one really understands autism or hypochondria in a small dying town in the 2000s when everyone is closed minded and doesn't understand anyone who isn't exactly like them. Here's a list of how she interacts or feels about the other characters, and how they feel about her!

Liz and Ocean tend to avoid each other, just because Ocean believes that she's a bad influence on her and would drag her down, which causes Ocean to stereotype Liz. After the cyclone incident, they sort of started to understand each other but not really and Ocean apologizes, Liz forgives, and they move on.

Liz and Noel are pretty close friends. They don't talk all the time, but they have some pretty interesting conversations and Noel trusts her enough to show her some of his poems even though he's not proud of them, and she's incredibly supportive of each and every single one. Liz is so impressed by Noel's Lament and keeps asking him questions about Monique Gibeau throughout the rest of the competition, which is a little annoying to Noel but he's also glad that someone cares enough to ask.

Liz and Misha aren't extremely close but also sometimes talk. Misha is also kind of seen as a weirdo because of the xenophobia running rampant in Uranium and also the whole rap thing, so Misha sometimes let's her talk about her interests with minimal complaints from him and he gets into a lot of fights with other kids at school to protect her from getting bullied. He kind of sees Liz as a younger sister.

Liz and Ricky aren't close in life, but after the cyclone, they become really close friends. When they were alive, they always felt a little bad for each other because of how ignorant everyone was to each of them but they never interacted, but once Liz found out that Ricky was also a gigantic nerd and weirdo like her, she sort of clung to him and he enjoyed having a friend who could relate to him to a certain extent. I also might make them a ship because OC x canon is life and life is OC x canon.

Liz and Jane Doe are... alright with each other. They're both very peculiar and have silent interactions, but rarely actually talk to each other. And they're both very fascinated by each other, because girls with actual human heads are out of the ordinary for Jane Doe and girls with porcelain doll heads are out of the ordinary for Liz.

Liz and Constance also don't interact much, mainly just small waves in the hallway during passing or small talk about choir performances. After the cyclone though, they become a little closer and Liz stands up for Constance a few times and then they have a giant hug after Sugar Cloud.

Liz and the Lambs are extremely close in life because of how all three of them are outcasts and they basically do everything together. It also makes Liz and Penny's deaths so much sadder because they're both leaving behind Ezra and Liz can't identify her own best friend in death, and barely interacts with her because obviously, she doesn't realize that Jane Doe is actually Penny.

23. I would likely be called the quietest person in town, or the quietest girl in town. For catchphrase, I'm not really sure.

24. My favorite dialogue is the entire Every Story's Got a Lesson scene, but specifically from the 2016 production.

25. I really want to see an actual Ukrainian play Misha one day, instead of having to put on an accent and all that. I also want to see maybe a production use very maximalist set of costumes? It sounds really cool.

26. Um... Majestic Repertory Theatre, Station Theatre, Roxy's Downtown Theatre, Hayes Theatre Co., Showstopper Productions, Stone Productions, and a lot more but I forgot the names.

27. 2016 Off-Broadway, as well as the audios for all three official American tour productions, obviously Majestic Rep, Chance Theatre, Station Theatre, Stone Productions, Roxy's Downtown Theatre, half of the Hayes Theatre Co., and unfortunately the McCarter Theatre. I've also seen it live at a high school I live close to.

28. Like I said, I've seen it live at a local high school. It was so good and I also had a huge crush on the actor for Misha for the longest time.

29. Likely Jane Doe, I have bad memory so I wouldn't be able to remember all my lines if I had to play one of the other characters where Jane Doe has very few lines. I also worked at a haunted house where I had to act really creepy when I was younger so I think I got that down, I also can hit the notes of TBOJD really well and I like to think I sound good. I also have a very stiff body and am likely struggling with a health issue regarding my muscles and how I can move my body, and Jane Doe moves stiffly in lots of productions so that gives me an excuse for being stiff.

30. My favorite part about the show itself is how myself and everyone else can connect to the characters in some way and how it can genuinely help people deal with grief and mourning. I also really like how all the characters connect and that even if two characters don't interact much, they still have a possibility of getting along very well if they were to interact more and how that also makes the fandom think about the what if's about all the potential friendships and relationships that the characters could be put in. My favorite part of the fandom is how easy it is to connect to each other, or at least in my case.

Sorry for literally the longest yap EVER. I don't get to talk about this much and especially in depth. ☹️☹️☹️

Ride The Cyclone Ask Game!!!

Just some fun little questions!! Please do rant as much as you want with any and all of your answers :D

Favourite production?

Favourite character?

Least favourite character?

Favourite song?

Least favourite song?

How would you rank the opening songs?

Favourite cut song?

Favourite cut character?

Unpopular opinion? Or if you don't have any, a popular opinion you agree with?

Favourite ship?

Least favourite ship/ship that you don't understand the hype for?

Favourite RTC actor(s)?

Favourite representation of [insert ship]?

Favourite interpretation of [insert character]?

Favourite take on [insert song]?

Favourite costumes/set design?

Favourite vocal performance?

What are your headcanons for [insert character]?

Do you have any theories?

Favourite RTC fanfic/fic author/fic recs in general?

Favourite RTC fanart/fanartist/any fanart you love?

Do you have any OCs? If so what are they like?

What would your catchphrase be and/or what 'The ___ in Town' would you be called?

Favourite line of dialogue?

Something you haven't seen in a production that you want to?

Any underrated productions you love?

How many productions have you watched? Which ones?

Have you ever been to see a RTC production?

If you were in a production of RTC, who would you play?

Overall favourite part of RTC and/or the fandom?

#ride the cyclone #rtc musical #majestic repertory theatre #majestic rep rtc

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