#she was living in a single room with three other individuals…

[firewasabeast]

Good Day for a Breakdown

(This fic features Juniper from my Uncle Eddie series. You can still read this without ever reading those stories. Juniper is Buck and Tommy's daughter.)

By the time Tommy and Juniper started their day, Evan had been at work for a couple of hours. He wasn't supposed to be working today. They were all supposed to be heading to the zoo together.

But the opportunity for overtime came up, and they'd been saving for a trip in the summer.

So, Papa and Juniper day it was!

Tommy had the whole day planned and everything seemed to be right on schedule for a full half hour... then it all fell apart.

First, Juniper's toast wasn't buttery enough. Then there was too much butter. Then she didn't want toast at all, and wanted cereal instead.

After cleaning up half the cereal that ended up on the floor, Tommy and Juniper headed to her bedroom to get dressed.

That's when the screaming started.

She wanted her white shirt, but not that white shirt. She wanted the specific white shirt that was in the laundry room soaking in stain remover after an applesauce incident the night before.

The pants Tommy tried to put on her were too tight around her tummy, then the next pair were too loose and “wiggly.”

Also, she hated every single pair of shoes she owned.

When Tommy looked at the clock and saw it wasn't even ten yet, he decided right then and there that the zoo was no longer in question.

Cue the next round of screams.

When Juniper turned two, everyone joked that they better get ready. The terrible two's would come, and they'd come with a vengeance.

Except they didn't.

And that made Buck and Tommy feel exceptionally lucky.

Until Juniper reached three. That's when her terrible two's started.

Things had calmed down recently. Her outbursts were less frequent and were usually over within a few minutes.

Not today though. Today was nonstop, and Tommy felt every bit of it.

There was no nap for Juniper today. The mere mention of it had her throwing her books to the ground in the living room, even taking a couple and ripping out the pages before Tommy could get to them.

Playing outside was a disaster, because she wanted to put her hands in the dirt and when Tommy finally said okay and she did it, she hated the feeling of it on her hands and was immediately yelling for him to get it off.

Later on, when he grabbed her up to stop her from slamming head first into their back door, she bit down on his shoulder so hard he yelped and nearly dropped her.

Tommy remembered watching videos when the temper tantrums first began. The gentle parenting ones where the moms tried to reason with their hyperventilating children.

He hated those videos.

There was no reasoning with this child. Not on one of these days.

He gave up on cleaning the individual messes. They could stay right where they were until she went to sleep.

If she ever went to sleep.

He had to get through bath time first. Where the water wasn't the right temperature, and the bubbles were too bubbly, and she threw every bath toy over Tommy's head and against the bathroom wall.

Tommy looked at his watch, 7:00 staring back at him. Evan should have been home an hour ago.

They didn't let themselves worry if the other was late, not until three hours had passed without a text or call. Otherwise, they were to assume the other was simply running late and would be home as soon as possible.

With a sigh, Tommy pulled the plug in the tub to let the water drain. Which was apparently an act of war in Juniper's eyes.

When he finally got her into bed, she denied every bedtime storybook he offered her. She ended up falling asleep while sobbing into his chest.

After gently getting her settled into bed, Tommy headed out into the living room to clean up. That's when the front door slowly opened and Buck walked in.

“Hey,” he greeted quietly with a smile, knowing Juniper would be out by now.

“Hey,” Tommy replied, leaning in as Buck walked over for a kiss. “Get a last minute call?”

“Sort of,” he answered, glancing around at the disaster that was their living room. “Wow. Busy day, huh?”

“Yeah, um.” Tommy turned, bending to grab some of Junie's toys. “What do you mean, sort of?”

“Got a call at like five after six. Didn't expect it to take so long to get wrapped up.”

“C shift wasn't in yet?” Tommy asked.

“They were there. Just getting in. It seemed like it would be a quick call.” Buck shrugged. “It had been an easy shift, so I figured I'd help out.”

Tommy stood there in the dead center of their living room, Juniper's toys tossed all around, with two of her teddy bears in his hand. He nodded, tightening his lips together until they were nearly white. Once he found his voice again, he cleared his throat. “Well, at least it was an easy shift, right?”

“Yeah, it really was.” Without asking any questions, Buck picked up a couple of broken crayons from the floor and headed into the kitchen to throw them away. He acted so nonchalant about it that, had Tommy had any crayons in his own hand, they would have crumbled into little dust with how hard he was clenching his fists.

“Did you cook that chicken tonight?” Buck called out.

Tommy sighed. “Uh, no. No, I never had a chance.”

“Mm,” Buck hummed, disappointed. “Can't refreeze it. We'll have to throw it out tomorrow.”

Tommy tossed a blanket from the floor onto the couch. “I will take it out when I leave for work in the morning.”

“I hate to waste it,” Buck said, opening the fridge and pulling it out. “Maybe I'll make something with it really quick. That way you'll have something for lunch tomorrow too.”

It wasn't a slight against him, Tommy knew that. But it felt like it. It felt like Evan was telling him, “You're basically throwing money away, Tommy. You really couldn't shove some chicken in a pan and throw it in the oven? I guess I could do it after working twelve hours of overtime. Oh, and I'll also be making you lunch for tomorrow, which you didn't bother to do for me today.”

He was usually on the other side of this. Usually the one reminding Evan what he actually said instead of what Evan heard.

But today sucked, and everyone and everything was against him.

“Is there anything you're craving?” Buck asked, heading back to the fridge for more ingredients. “Nothing fancy though. It's gotta be a one pot meal and-”

“So you could have come home?” Tommy questioned, abandoning the mess in the living room to come talk to Buck. “But you went on a call instead?”

Slowly, Buck closed the fridge door and turned to Tommy, staring at him for a moment before asking, “A- Are you mad at me right now?”

“Why would I be mad at you?”

“I think that's a question for me to ask, because I have no idea.”

“Evan, I-” Tommy huffed out a breath, motioning back toward the living room. “Do you not see the disaster back there?”

“Yeah, I mentioned it when I came in.”

Beginning to get a little pissed off at Evan's obliviousness, Tommy walked back over to the living room, grabbing two books off the floor and bringing them to Buck. “She destroyed these before I could stop her. Tore the pages right out. One's the mind-numbingly boring My Two Daddies book you got her-”

“Hey!”

“And the other was the one my mom gave me when I was little. They're trash now.” He dramatically dropped the books into the trash can to further prove his point... whatever his point actually was.

“Tommy-”

“That was right after the second time I had to blow in her face to get her to stop holding her breath.”

That's when the full realization finally hit Buck. “She had one of her breakdown days, didn't she?”

“Ya think?”

“It's been a while. I thought those were over.”

“Oh, no. She just laid dormant until she got me alone. Which I shouldn't have been, because you weren't even supposed to work today.”

Buck paused. “Wait a minute,” he said, glaring over at Tommy. “Are you mad because I took overtime? Overtime that we both agreed I'd take to help pay for our trip this summer?”

“We agreed to taking some overtime,” Tommy replied, “but you didn't tell me you'd taken overtime for today until after you said yes.”

Buck cocked his head to the side. “I didn't know I needed your permission to work.”

“That's not what I-”

“Do I need to ask for your permission on a daily basis? My regular shift starts back in two days, should I ask if it's okay to go now, or wait until the day of? I think Bobby would prefer to have a little extra time to find someone to fill in should it not please you.”

“Evan.”

“Maybe I should have Carla come over on the days you're alone with Juniper if you can't handle her.” Buck knew that wasn't fair before the words left his mouth. He'd been alone with Juniper on one of her breakdown days. It was like endless torture.

The worst part was Tommy stopped fighting back right then and there. He stared at Buck, lips pursed. After a few seconds, he nodded, eyes now wet and red-rimmed. “I'm gonna go for a run,” he said softly, defeated.

He turned for the door, grabbing his shoes on the way out.

“Wait, Tom-” By the time Buck had found his voice again, it was too late. Tommy was out the door, closing it quietly behind him.

*****

When Tommy walked back into the house nearly two hours later, it was dimly lit. He could hear soft jazz playing in the living room. As he stepped in further, he saw that the house had been picked up, all of Juniper's toys put away. The little disasters from the day were gone, just a memory now.

He could hear Evan in the kitchen, could smell something cooking. Tommy's stomach growled, a reminder that he'd never been able to sit for lunch.

When he reached the kitchen, Evan was next to the stove, freshly showered and changed into sweats and one of Tommy's t-shirts. He wasn't messing with the food. Instead, he was working on something beside it. As Tommy got a better look, he could see that it was the book his mom had given him when he was young. Buck was concentrating hard as he taped the pages back together.

Tommy's chest ached. He knew it should make him feel better. Should make him feel relieved, happy, thankful. Anything other than a complete and total failure.

Buck turned then, jumping slightly when he saw Tommy. “I didn't hear you come in,” he said, a cautious smile on his face. “I think we should put your book up until Junie's a little older. I kept the other one in the trash,” he continued with a nervous laugh. “You were right, it sucked.”

And that's when Tommy broke. His face crumpled and his shoulders fell and within a matter of seconds Buck had his arms around Tommy, holding him tight.

Tommy accepted the hug, tucking his head into Buck's neck and wrapping his own arms around Buck's waist.

“I'm so sorry,” Buck whispered into the space between them. “I didn't mean what I said. I'm sorry.”

“I'm not-” Tommy sucked in a shaky breath. “It's not because of you.”

Buck turned his head, leaving a gentle kiss on Tommy's temple. “I'm still sorry.”

“S'okay.”

They stood there for a while in silence, Buck running his fingers through Tommy's hair.

“All I kept thinking,” Tommy said after a few minutes, sniffling as he continued to cling to Buck, “was that my drill sergeants never made me cry. One day alone with a three year old broke me.”

Even as he let out a laugh, Buck rubbed at Tommy's back soothingly. “The army should rethink bootcamp. Let angry toddlers train the soldiers.”

“Graduation rate would go way down.”

Tommy's stomach growled again, and Buck leaned back so he could look at him. “You hungry?” he asked, wiping a tear from Tommy's cheek.

Tommy nodded. “Sorry you had to cook after working all day.”

“I didn't mind,” Buck assured him, taking his hand and leading him to the table. “I told you, it was an easy day, plus I don't have work tomorrow.”

He pulled out Tommy's chair, not letting go of his hand until he was fully seated. He kissed the top of Tommy's head before going into the kitchen to fix them each a bowl of soup.

“Did you wanna get a shower before you eat?” Buck asked.

He shook his head, wiping at his eyes. “I didn't really run,” Tommy admitted. “I walked to the end of the block and sat on the curb for an hour and a half.”

“Did it help at all?”

“Not a bit. God, Evan, it was such a bad day,” he said, resting his head in his hands. “I didn't mean to take it out on you.”

Buck walked over, sliding Tommy's bowl over to him before sitting down beside him. “It's not like I made it any easier. I wasn't even really paying attention.”

“I just... I had the whole day planned. We were gonna go to the zoo, have lunch out, be back home for nap time. Then I was gonna take her with me to the gym so she could go to that kids class she loves, make dinner, have her fed and bathed. We'd clean the house up together, and I'd get to read her a story or two, then she'd be fast asleep by the time you got home. And then we'd have dinner together and, well,” he shrugged, “you know.”

Buck tried to hide a grin, reaching out and taking Tommy's hand. “Honey, she's asleep, I think you can say you'd like to fuck me.”

Tommy groaned, hanging his head down dramatically. “I would. I really would.”

Buck laughed. “Well, some of those things were accomplished.”

“No, she's only asleep because she screamed herself to sleep. I had nothing to do with it.”

“We're also having dinner together,” Buck pointed out. “And I'd be more than happy for you know,” he added with a wink, “after dinner.”

Tommy gave Buck's hand a squeeze.

“This is really good,” he said, taking another bite of the soup. “Thanks for cooking.”

“Thanks for eating with me.”

“Thanks for fixing my book.”

Buck smiled. “Thanks for being such a good Papa that our kid isn't afraid to have a bad day.”

Tommy smiled back at him, even as tears filled his eyes again. “Thanks for being the best partner I could ever ask for.”

“Thanks for loving me.”

Tommy lifted Buck's hand, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “Always.”

[evilminji]

Dani should Kidnap The Clones.

It's basicly protective custody. Preemptive child services, if you will. NONE of these fuckers out here makin adorable clone baby just cause they want kids!

*kicks down the door to your shady lab* Knock Knock! ITS THE POLICE! *Walker's Shock troopers swarm the place as Dani secures the kids*

Look me in the eyes. You KNOW he'd love an excuse to enforce The Rules on people technically outside his jurisdiction. It's for The Children(tm)! Why, he simply had no CHOICE!

Meanwhile? Dani is shoving all these mal-adjusted Murder Clones into her Lair? Which is? Basicly a Door style Lair she hid inside Danny's Lair for safe keeping. It's shoved behind a vending machine just outside the observatory. And the inside? Goes on for DAYS.

Like national parks and every beautiful beach she ever came across. She smashed together the BEST sights and places she's found in her travels, like a collection. Always adding more. New waterfalls, new noodle shops, new fields of wine grapes. It's... beautiful. Snapshots of every wonderous little thing about Earth, stitched together.

They can't hurt anyone. Can't achieve their "objectives". Are just treated like actual individuals and the children they truely are. Are surrounded by other Clones. So it's NORMAL here. Just? All of it.

But also?

Dani and Dan? Teaming up to make History's Scariest Adoption Agency(TM). Dan runs it. Dan wants to know why EXACTLY you want a kid. Explain yourself to Dan. What are your references? Qualifications. He's doing a home visit to inspect the premises. He BETTER not find any suspicious Labs.

And? It just? Appears out of nowhere. It's powered by Zone Bullshit. One second you're thinking "oh woe is me D:> I will never have a child to fill my lovely home, because of all my Superhero Secrets and also because government bureaucracy!" And the next?

.....wasn't that an out of business taco bell? "Zone Adoptions"?

"....Free Clone Baby?"

Okay that is HIGHLY suspicious and as a hero you are basicly legally obligated to investigate. But now it's bigger on the inside? Fancy waiting room? You are being interrogated? Wait, no, you're supposed to be the one doing the-?

Somehow? You leave with your Clone Son from another Dimension. And a pamphlet. You're scheduled for a home visit in three days. You... you never told them where you live.

Somehow that doesn't seem like it will slow them down.

Did the Fae just Suprise Baby you with a clone baby? Can they DO that? W... what's happening? What days is this? Who ARE YOU PEOPLE?! HUH!?!?

Just? Imagine. IMAGINE. I was gonna say Bruce... but?

Damian.

He finds himself... pondering What Could Have Been. Had his Clones not wanted him dead. Wondering if he could have saved them. If, perhaps, he had found them as infants. Raised them. Could he have given them a good life? Been a good father?

He gets emotional. Fatherly. He's about 14.

Dan's been around Ghosts too long to remember how humans age or how age relates to development. This one TALKS like An Adult. Must be one. Probably just short.

And Damian? Never backs down. The second Dan starts challenging him? His character is flawless and his morals divine. He has never done anything wrong, ever, in his LIFE. Fuck you. And on TOP of that? He not only will be the SINGLE GREATEST FATHER TO EVER FATHER, his home is the most loving and beloved ON THE PLANET!

In entirety of EARTH'S history, no less!

....what are they arguing about?

*is handed a baby and kicked out of Dan's adoption agency*

See you in a few days!

(o.o ) *happy gurgling from the baby* *Damian.exe has stopped working*

Smash cut, after Damian speed runs his stages of grief at his own Dumbass Life Choices, to his rocking back up at the Manor like? Congratulations, Father. I have brought you your first grandson! Do Not ask how I obtained him. It was likely dubiously legal but I will not be returning him. We have bonded.

And just? Annihilating the collective Bats on one go. You did what? You have What?! That is a baby! WHY IS THERE A BABY?! How is there a baby!? WHOS BABY!? *sirens going off and everyone panicking*

Will Damian be allowed to KEEP the Baby? Ha! Hell no. Bruce will. Damian is a child. But it will be a Needlessly Dramatic Bat Cold War Of Dramatic Drama to pry that small cherubic baby from his grip long enough for Bruce to fill out the paperwork.

Child thieving bastard that he is. How dare he. That is Damian's SON! D:<

*happy oblivious baby noises as Alfred feeds him in the background, while the Bats do their Dramatic Custody War*

@hdgnj @babbling-babull @hypewinter @nerdpoe @lolottes @mutable-manifestation

[lordprettyflackotara]

hitchhiker || chapter three || the proxies

tw: mentions of murder (the usual), descriptions of gore, simpy Tim

a/n: the next chapter is going to be sum else. prepare yourselves now ;)

<— chapter two

You turned to Nova, who quickly led you over to your living room.

“I understand being excited about this case but I could’ve invited him in if you weren’t here,” You sighed. Nova’s curls were in space buns, her bare baby face staring back at you with a frown. “Well I guess it’s a good thing I was here then. Last thing you need is dick from a literal hitchhiker,” She argued sassily. She put her hands on her hips, giving you a motherly look. You rolled your eyes, Nova reaching out and grabbing your wrist.

“I have to show you, you’re the only person I can trust,” She explained. She led you over to your living room, documents and photographs laid all over your white living room carpet. “Is it really okay for me to see all of this?” You questioned. She sat down on the floor, excitedly patting the spot beside her. “Absolutely not but that’s why no one else is going to know, right?” Nova said, arching an eyebrow. You joined her on the floor, the sight of all the papers overwhelming. “Right,” You agreed. Nova began dividing up the papers, placing three in front of you.

“They found Winston’s body. Did an autopsy and everything,” Nova began. Your eyes widened in horror. “Found his body? He’s dead?” You gasped. Nova nodded. Her face flashed a glimpse of sadness for a moment before it hardened again. “He was slaughtered. His body was completely dismembered, his torso the only thing left,” She explained. You felt your stomach churn. “Oh God,” You whispered. She began looking for a certain paper, shoving the others aside.

“My guess is that they tried to make his corpse unidentifiable. But they were morons. They didn’t account for his daughter’s name being tatted on his chest. Dead giveaway.”

You arched an eyebrow, “They?”

“I think there’s three of them.”

She pointed at the photographs in front of you. Each one contained individual silver bullets, with different backgrounds. “Those bullets are from a revolver and they’ve been found in all of these cases. From Florida to South Dakota to Oregon,” Nova told you. She brought out three more photos of two women, one man. “Those murders were of the head chiefs investigating this symbol,” She told you. She then held up a crumbled piece of notebook paper with an X through a circle.

“Meanwhile in Rhode Island, Utah, and New York, we’ve found at least four victims with a similar slash wound to the throat,” Nova told you. You cringed at the thought of her bluntly showing you the gore, but instead she held up diagrams of the bodies. Each were drawn and had notes dissecting every little mark on the victims body. “Every single one of them were slashed in the throat with the same blade. Look, same start and end point every time. No jagged edges, just a straight blade,” She pointed out. Nova braced herself as she showed you another pile.

“Now the third set of the victims seem to have it the worst. In Texas, New Mexico, South Carolina and countless other states, there have been findings of bodies like this,” She told you. She set out at least ten papers, the drawn diagram autopsies. You felt your stomach churn as you soaked in all of the pictures. “T-they’re all-” You stuttered, swallowing. Nova nodded affirmatively. Each drawing showed only the torso of the victims, the arms, head, and legs completely chopped off. In each of the drawings the torso itself seemed mangled, torn apart.

“It looks like they’re shot or sliced to death, before they’re dismembered,” She said. You felt your mouth run dry. “One of them shoots the victims or slices them, the third dismembers them,” She told you. You couldn’t make sense of what you were seeing. You grabbed the dreaded symbol of death. The paper was so crumbled it would’ve torn it if you weren’t careful. “I don’t understand, all of this torture and despair over this symbol?” You asked. Nova shifted through the papers, digging out a report. “I don’t know what it means, but I know whoever it belongs to doesn’t want it getting out there,” Nova said. She nervously bit her bottom lip as her eyes darted across all of her papers.

“Who was the first detective? How did they find it?” You asked. She brought out a picture of a tall detective, his hair buzzed and green eyes lit up as he smiled for the photo. “This is detective Wolf. He was investigating a triple homicide. It looks like a daughter murdered her entire family at fourteen and escaped. When they went through the home drawings with those symbols were everywhere,” Nova said. She showed you a picture of the girls bedroom. Pictures of the symbol were plastered all over her walls, along with words scratched onto the walls itself. He’s coming. There’s no escape. It’s him.

The words appeared to be scribbled onto the wall with raw charcoal. Jesus Christ they should’ve gotten that kid some pencils. “Now they just assumed the girl to be schizophrenic. That was until they found the same symbol all the way in Kansas,” Nova told you. You noticed the under eye bags that hung under her chocolate orbs. When was the last time she had slept? “Similar case. Teenage boy lost his shit, stabbed parents to death while little sister was at daycare. Investigated his room and guess what? Same symbol. Same ominous words,” She told you. Digging through her vanilla folder she held out a newspaper article to you. “Now here’s the funny part. Detective Wolf wasn’t killed until the symbol was found again. It’s like whoever this symbol belongs to went back to cover their tracks,” She rambled.

You put your hand on her shoulder, snapping her out of her addictive trance. “I think you’re onto something,” You admitted. She looked at you, her lips dry and face paler than usual. This case looked like it was draining her energy. “But with that being said you need to watch your back. Whatever gang or person or thing that’s behind this has no problem traveling to slaughter someone to keep it sacred. You need to watch your back,” You advised. Nova gave you a tired smile. She placed her hand on yours. “I’m going to solve this case. Just keep a lookout for me on the civilian side of things, alright?” She asked. You nodded. You watched as she grabbed her papers, putting them in a particular order as she organized them back into her folder.

“Why don’t you crash here for the night? Take the bed and i’ll join you in a bit. I think old episodes of friends are running at this time of night,” You suggested. Nova clipped the folder together, securing her findings. “Thanks, you’re the best,” She said. You both rose to your feet, Nova quick to throw her arms around you. “I don’t know what i’d do without you,” Nova mumbled. You squeezed her tighter, knowing how the stress of cases affected her. And truthfully, you didn’t know what you’d do without her either.

“Hey don’t stay up too late, you have work tomorrow!”

\/

You did in fact stay up too late, resulting in you falling asleep on the couch. You were awoken by knocking on your front door. Groggily you dragged yourself over to the door, trying to remember if you put on make up last night so you could rub your eye. You were so tired you didn’t look through the peephole, opening the door. You became fully awake at the sight of Tim. Quickly you brushed your hand over your tangled hair, suddenly becoming self conscious of your appearance. But why should you be? He’s the one that left dinner. He looked he hadn’t slept, his brown eyes looking back at you. He wore his standard mustard yellow jacket, a bouquet of red roses in his hand. You opened your mouth to speak, Tim quick to stop you.

“I know what you’re going to say and before you do let me just say, i’m sorry,” He rambled. You shifted your weight to one leg, looking up at him. Maybe you were a simp. Maybe you were just down bad. But you decided to overlook his weird behavior. “Apology acknowledged. The roses…?” You started to ask, your voice trailing off. Tim awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. “They’re for you. I didn’t know what your favorite flower was but I assumed roses would do for now,” Tim said shyly. It was your first time seeing him so relaxed when speaking. He appeared to be alone, Brian and Toby no where in sight. “Apology accepted or denied?” Tim asked you. You took the roses from him, smelling the delicate flowers. “Acknowledged for now. Don’t push it,” You say sternly but in a soft tone. Tim gulped as you signaled for him to come into your apartment.

“You look like you didn’t get much sleep,” You commented. You reached under your kitchen sink, grabbing a vase for the flowers. “Neither do you,” He deflected, trying to change the subject back to you. He liked talking about you. Talking to you. Your face went red as you looked down. “Oh well uh, I was up late with Nova. Fell asleep on the couch,” You admitted, embarrassment practically dripping off of you. You grabbed a pair of scissors, cutting the stems of the roses. “Is Nova your roommate?” Tim asked curiously. You put some water in the vase, finishing cutting the stems. “Oh no she just has a key to my place. Comes over during the day usually but she spends the night sometimes,” You explained.

Tim walked over beside you, leaning against the counter. He was much taller than you, his gaze fully centered on you as put the roses into the vase. His mind was rattled for many reasons. Some suspected Nova had a crush on you but you were oblivious. Some thought Nova was going to endanger you because of her line of work. And some were just flat out jealous a stranger he didn’t know got to spend the night with you instead of him. “Want some coffee?” You asked. Your sweet voice snapped him out of his thoughts. “I’d love some,” He chirped. Your apartment was extremely small to Tim. It looked like you had attempted to make it tidy, but with it being so small all of your items looked cluttered.

“Straight black right?” You asked, setting the vase on your counter. Tim gave you a small smile. “You remembered,” He commented. You popped the empty coffee pot into the machine, pushing a button so the coffee would brew. “Hard to forget when you didn’t order anything else,” You replied. Huh. You were not as oblivious as Tim thought you were. Tim was typically nauseous ninety percent of the time. The only time his body ever really ate a hearty meal was when Masky fronted. If anything, Masky was so gluttonous it explained Tim’s consistent nausea.

Another suspected reason was Tim’s diet. Tim’s diet consisted of coffee and cigarettes. Yum. “So about last night I uh… I want to make it up to you,” Tim told you, trying to continue the conversation. The smell of coffee filled his nose, the scent flooding your apartment. “I thought that’s what the roses were for?” You asked. Mentally you felt like you had every right to be stand offish. Tim and Brian disappeared randomly. And although you were grateful for some time alone with Toby, that didn’t excuse their actions. Especially when no explanation was provided. Not one that’s good enough anyways.

“They are but I wanted to um, ask you if uh, you wanted to go out with me sometime today. Just the two of us,” Tim asked. He felt like a fourteen year old kid who just asked out his middle school crush. You felt your face flush pink. Did Tim just ask you out on a date? “I work until around ten tonight. Are you okay with that?” You asked slowly. After your previous breakup you hadn’t had too much experience with men. A tension began to bubble in the room, one you hadn’t realized was there before. Was Tim trying to hit on you? “Works for me. I don’t think much will be open but we can always walk around the Davidson park,” Tim suggested. He could feel his nerves eating at his bones as he awaited your answer. Davidson park was a massive park given to their town by the state, large oak trees and multiple kinds of flowers planted all over the place.

The coffee had finished brewing, your hand wrapping around the coffee pots handle. “What about Brian and Toby? I know Brian doesn’t like me but Toby and I had a nice walk home together,” You said dryly. You went to grab two mugs, the only two that were clean. You stared at them in the cabinet, your hands hovering over them. You mentally scolded yourself when you realized they were both hello kitty themed. Thanks Nova. “Don’t take Brian personally. He has a hard time socializing. We never stay in one place too long and he’s scared of getting attached,” Tim explained. Technically he wasn’t lying. You tried to nonchalantly pour you both cups of coffee, ignoring Tim’s eyes examining the hello kitty mugs. “What about Toby?” You questioned. One mug had hello kitty dancing and in the other one she’s winking with a wand. You mentally face palmed. Not exactly like there was a more ‘masculine’ mug you could hand him. Or honestly, literally any kind of boring adult mug would’ve worked.

“I think it’s great you guys like each other but i’d like the honor of getting to know you too,” Tim answered quickly. You poured both cups of coffee, deciding on Tim getting the dancing hello kitty mug. He took it without question, sipping the steaming coffee like it was nothing. “Alright let’s call it a date. I’ll meet you at Davidson park around eleven?” You suggested. Tim nodded, watching as you scooped a spoonful of sugar. He couldn’t help but want this routine all of the time. He’d make sure you were taken care of, pampered and fed. With the lack of clean dishes and yesterday’s clothes still on your body, it was apparent to him you were struggling. He didn’t want you to struggle ever again.

As Tim sipped his coffee, all he could think about was all of the ways he wanted to take care of you.

“Hey y/n?”

“Hmm?” You hummed, grabbing your almost empty creamer from your fridge.

“Nice mugs by the way.”

[staylovesmiley]

Going Dumb~ Chapter 9

ᯓᡣ𐭩Pairing; Kim Seungmin x Fem!reader, Stray kids x Fem!reader

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ᯓᡣ𐭩Summary; It had been over a decade since you had last seen each other, having met in choir when Seungmin was living with his grandparents in LA and you with your Aunt. Now that you are both presented adults, how will he handle a change to the reality of you he had made in his mind in your absence over the years?

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ᯓᡣ𐭩 ᯓᡣ𐭩 Notes; This is an ABO!AU. in this world when someone reaches puberty they will present with one of three sub genders; alpha, beta, or omega. Due to Alphas and Omegas experiencing rut and heat, some jobs are restrictive as to what sub genders they will hire, specifically singling out omegas as heat suppressants are harder to obtain than rut suppressants. Scent glands are located near the pressure points on the neck and small hormonal patches called scent blockers can be placed over them to reduce or rid an individual of their scent for a period of time depending on the strength of the hormones in the patch.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ᯓᡣ𐭩 ᯓᡣ𐭩ᯓᡣ𐭩Warnings; abo!au, beta!kim seungmin, almost all alpha!straykids, female!reader, poly!pack dynamics, angst, mild violence, mentions of sexual harassment/assault and discrimination, smut, enemies to lovers, Kim seungmin is kind of an ass I’m so sorry dandy boy, she/her pronouns used for reader, jealous seungmin, I have only ever wrote one abo story before but it is one of my favorite genres so I hope I can do this justice~

It wasn’t too long after Chan had left and you had began drifting back to sleep when the door quietly pushed open and someone slipped into the room and under the covers, careful not to wake you.

Despite their efforts, your eyes fluttered open to be met with a foxlike gaze staring back at you with a startled expression. “Sorry bunny, was I too loud?” Jeongin spoke softly, a frown on his face causing you to shake your head frantically and give him a sleepy smile. “No, just felt the bed move a bit…” you said with a yawn, rubbing at your eyes.

The alpha whined, pulling the blankets up over the two of you higher. “Just go back to sleep, ‘kay? It’s still early, Channie hyung just asked if I’d come keep you company….said you were cold?” His pout was so cute it made you wanna reach up and pinch at his cheeks though you refrained and instead chose to snuggle closer to the young alpha and inhale the deep smell of black cherry. “M’kay, don’t have to tell me twice ayen~” you said with a bright smile, eyes closing as you started to drift off in the maknae’s arms.

Jeongin smiled, a light blush on his cheeks as he brought one hand up to play with your hair gently until he too fell back asleep with you in his arms.

After sleeping in a few more hours, the smell of someone cooking wafted into Chan’s room and effectively woke the both of you.

“Did you sleep okay?” Jeongin said with a yawn, sitting up in the bed causing the blankets to pool at his waist and pull away from you slightly. “Yeah I did, thanks to you~” You said with a smile, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you sat up beside him. “Should we go see what whoever’s out there is cooking?” You questioned, raising an eyebrow at the alpha who nodded eagerly. “M’so hungry- smells like Leeknow hyung’s cooking!” Without another word the maknae was up and pulling you with him into the kitchen.

“Good morning sleepy heads!” Jisung chirped from the island, the cup of coffee in his hands nowhere near as strong as his own natural scent even with the smell of Minho’s caramel scent mixed within it. You gave the alpha a sleepy smile and settled beside him with a wink. “You and Min smell like you had fun last night after I left.” A light blush crept up his neck and to his cheeks at your words, looking over to where Minho was cooking to see if he had also heard. “You could say that, yeah-“

You laughed into your hand at his reaction to your teasing, feeling good to finally not be the one turning red at one of their relentless attempts to fluster you. “Cutie, Innie, you hungry?” The two of you nodded in sync as you leaned over the island to try and get a better look at what the older was cooking up.

“I can always eat.” The youngest chirped as he walked to where the coffee pot sat on the counter. “Bunny do you want some?” He gestured towards the cup he was pouring for himself before moving to get an extra mug.

“No thanks- I feel weirdly energetic already.” Seungmin appeared from his room, wordlessly shuffling over to where you stood and wrapped his arms around your waist from behind with his chin resting on your shoulder. “That’s normal for after an omega’s heat breaks.” Minho explained, messing more with whatever it was he was cooking on the stove before moving to grab a stack of plates from the cabinet. At the mention of your heat, Seungmin looked over to where Jisung stood beside you to see him give you a look that caused you to blush and look away from him.

Seungmin pulled away, feeling nauseous at the display as he felt angry stew in his chest. At the loss of warm you let out a whine and turned to see where your childhood friend had gone to catch him moving over to rummage around in the fridge for something other than coffee to drink. He berated himself in his head for getting upset over the interaction and the memory of the intimacy you now shared with the alpha. Something far back in his mind growled, gnashing it’s teeth as it tried to claw its way to the surface. The desire to steal you away and not let anyone even look at you again echoing loudly in his mind though he couldn’t understand why.

As you watched Seungmin make a quick plate of whatever Minho had been cooking before retreating back to his room a frown found its way to your face. “What’s up with him?” You said, just above a whisper as the second oldest passed you a plate of your own full of the breakfast he had made. “Woke up on the wrong side of the bed I assume.” The alpha smirked, passing plates out to Jeongin and Jisung before leaning against the island with his own plate before digging in. “Don’t mind him- he has his moments.” You nodded, knowing all too well how his so called moments could be. Deep down you worried that maybe you had done something to upset the beta, afraid of ending up back how you had been when you first arrived.

The four of you ate in relative silence, you and Jeongin clearing aways and cleaning up after everyone was finished. While you were at the sink washing up the dishes you felt a pair of arms snaking around your waist from behind. The smell of warm caramel enveloped you and you smiled softly to yourself. “Hi Min.” Your voice was calm, your hands continuing to work at your task of washing up while the alpha’s chin came to rest on your shoulder and he took a deep inhale near the scent gland on your neck. “You still smell like Hannie-“ With a giggle you shrugged off his words, setting another two plates into the drying rack on the counter beside the sink. “Is that a bad thing?”

At your question, Jisung could be heard shouting out from where he sat in the living room on his phone that it most definitely wasn’t. However, the older alpha leaned in to muzzle against your neck. “Could smell better like the both of us.” He teased, causing you to almost drop the plate you were holding into the sink. A blush crept up to your cheeks and you carefully pulled away from Minho’s embrace to finish up and dry your quickly pruning hands.

Minho tried not to take your actions as a form of rejection, the sight of your flushed skin calming any worry he had that he may have been too forward and upset you. Well, that and the sweet smell of oranges filling the space you shared in the kitchen. “Listen- uh…do you have any plans today?” You thought for a moment, moving passed the alpha to flop down onto the couch beside Jisung who’s arms immediately pulled you closer to him. “Not that I can think of? I’m kinda off whenever you guys are-“

The older alpha stared at you blankly for a moment before nodding, chuckling awkwardly to himself. “Right, right- we’ll I wasn’t sure if anyone else had made plans with you so I wanted to check-“ coming around the couch, Minho took a seat on the over side of you as Jisung gave a kiss to the top of your head. At the feeling you leaned your head back against his shoulder to look up at him and he gave a wide, heart shaped smile once he had your attention. “What Minho is taking forever to say is that we want to take you shopping today if you are up for it.”

It was your turn to stare, a lost and confused look in your eyes as you pulled away to look at him properly. “Shopping? Is there a reason or you guys just feeling like enjoying some retail therapy?” You teased them lightly, not fully grasping what they meant. “Bunny- no, we mean shopping for you. Well, more specifically for your room!” Oh, you thought. Your eyes subconsciously drifted over to the door to your room as your head tilted slightly. “What do I need to go shopping for my room for?”

Minho whined, causing Jisung to follow suit as the pair of alphas draped themselves over you dramatically. “Your room is so lame!” Minho said, over exaggerating his words with the way he groaned along with them. Jisung nodded in agreement and gave you the softest puppy dog eyes you’d ever seen. “Please go shopping with us for your room- you can pick out whatever you like just as long as it’s really what you like! Our treat!” You frowned a bit, looking between the alphas as you bit your lower lip.

“I couldn’t ask you guys to do that-“ Minho perked up, taking your hand in his own as he pulled you in the direction of your room. “Well good thing you aren’t asking, we are offering.” “Begging-“ Jisung corrected, hot on your heels as he trailed after the pair of you. “Yeah- that! Anyways- please get ready and we will be waiting out here for you so we can go.” The older alpha gently ushered you into your room and you let out a soft laugh. “I am not really getting a say in this, am I?”

The pair shook their heads, smiles wide as they closed the door for you to get ready. “Nope! It’s for your own good. Don’t take too long now-“ You heard the sound of their foot steps retreating back into the living room as you shook your head, laughing still at their antics while heading over to where your suitcases sat in your closet.

Shopping for your room had taken much longer than any of you had anticipated, Jisung and Minho insisting that you needed to replace almost everything already in the room to suit your taste on top of finding things to actually decorate and make it feel more personal. You ended up back at the dorm in the early evening, having to call in reinforcements from the other members to carry in everything that didn’t need to be ordered.

There was everything from new bedding, decorative pillows and throw blankets, stuff to hang on the walls and set on your desk and dresser, not to mention the new bed frame and mattress that Minho insisted you needed because your eyes lingered on the display a bit too long in the store.

Now, sat back in your room with multiple bags full of what the two alphas had got for you, you got to work setting everything up to your liking. It didn’t take nearly as long as shopping for everything had, finishing up the final touches you took a step back to admire your work. The room now looked warm and inviting, everything in soft shades of orange, yellow, and green with touches of creams to balance it out. You had even switched out the overhead lights in the room and left only the new lamp at your bedside table on to cast a warm glow around the room.

The only task you had yet to complete was your closet.

Minho had given you strict instructions to unpack your belongings finally, even purchasing new hangers to prompt you into doing so. You didn’t really know why you had put it off, telling yourself it was most likely due to the nature of their, and now by extension your, job. Traveling was a necessity and having everything still packed away made it more convenient but you knew deep down you we’re waiting for something to go wrong, for the other shoe to drop so to speak and for you to be out of a home again.

Home.

That’s what this was for you.

More than just a place to eat, bathe, and rest your head at night. This was your home and so were they. The thought of ever having to leave again caused a rock like put to rest in your gut and make you feel nauseous and dizzy.

As these thoughts were racing through your head and you were slowly putting away each individual item of clothing like a game of jenga where one wrong move could send the whole tower crashing down around you, a soft knock sounded at the door and the smell of warm fresh linens wafted from the crack underneath. “Come in, Minnie.” You called softly, working to hang up one of your sweaters without snagging the fabric on the hanger.

The door opened slowly, the beta making his way inside before closing it behind him with a soft click. “Woah…you’ve really started to make the place your own, huh?” He said, a hint of fondness in his tone as he made his way into the dimly lit room to take a seat on the edge of your bed.

You nodded, smiling to yourself as you continued to work putting away your clothes. “Mhm, you could say that…Min and Hannie didn’t really give me much of a choice.” You said with a laugh, thinking back to how they practically dragged you from store to store picking up anything that seemed to catch your eye and refusing to take no for an answer when it came to getting it for you. “Not that I’m not grateful- I just….didn’t see why it was so necessary.”

Seungmin nodded, fighting off the smell of soured laundry left in the wash too long from invading his normally neutral scent at the mention of a certain alpha. “Right- about that…” his word’s caught your interest, your hands now working to fold and place articles of your clothing away in the small dresser in the room. “About what- My room? Do you know why they were so insistent that I decorate all of a sudden?” Though you weren’t facing him, the beta shook his head before realizing he would have to vocalize his thoughts to you for you to understand.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, his fists curled into the comforter beneath him as his gaze was glued to his lap. “Han- um…you and he are like- what is going on there?” His words both came tumbling out of his mouth like a can of soda shaken violently before being opened while also feeling like it took the force of an army to push them out. “What-“ Your movements froze mid fold as you held a soft pair of sweat pants to your torso, not noticing that they happened to be Seungmin’s that he had loaned you all those months ago yet you had kept forgetting to return them.

The beta closed his eyes tightly, nose scrunching slightly with the force. “It’s just- I get it, ya know….he’s a good alpha. He better treat you well or I-“ you cut him off with a giggle, hand coming up to cover your mouth as you turned to face him. “Minnie, honey- that’s really sweet of you, honestly, but-“ You made your way over to him, standing in front of where he sat on the bed to run a hand through his hair gently. “There isn’t anything going on between me and Jisung.”

He leaned into your touch, a contented sound raising in the back of his throat as he felt his body visibly relax from the tension he was holding in since the moment he and the two youngest alphas had returned back from their vacation. “Really? But-“ You shook your head, smiling down at him as you let the smell of sweet citrus surround you both. “We’re you jealous?” You couldn’t help but ask, some insane part of you wishing he was. You always knew part of you, no matter how small, had feelings for the beta. Even as children you couldn’t help but admire him, and that admiration had turned into adoration over time.

Now, with how close the two of you had been growing with the close proximity, you couldn’t deny the attraction there that pulled you towards him. You had never believed in the soulmate bonds everyone spoke of, thinking them just a silly superstition, until you had met Seungmin all those years ago. You tried to ignore and push away those thoughts, especially since the two of you were now working together. But with him in front of you now, face heating up slightly as he inquired about your time spending your heat with one of his members, you found it hard not to let your mind wonder of what it could mean.

“No- ‘m not jealous.” Seungmin huffed, pulling you to sit on his lap as he buried his face in the crook of your neck to rub his nose and cheek against your scent gland so the smell would wash over him completely. “Just worried….I- I just got you back, and I was such an ass in the beginning…” he explained softly, voice just above a whisper now. “If you and Han got together now- I dunno I just was afraid maybe you wouldn’t want to spend as much time with me.” You smiled, giggling a little as you placed a kiss on the top of his head. “You think you can get rid of me so easily? Sorry, Minnie. I’m you’re problem til the day I die.” You teased, pulling back to cup his face in your hands.

The smell of warm laundry straight from the dryer and sweet candied citrus swirled around the two of you as you stared into each others eyes for what felt like an eternity. Seungmin swallowed hard, trying to force his eyes to look away and save himself some dignity before you could catch the way his gaze shifted slight to look down at your soft, plump lips only inches from his own. It would be so easy for him to tilt his head up just so, and press a light kiss against those lips. A whimper escaped his throat before he could stop it and instead of giving into his impulsive thoughts he rested his head back against your shoulder.

You laughed, shaking your head as your heart was beating out of your chest. For a moment there it felt as if the beta was going to kiss you, and you probably wouldn’t have had the strength to stop him. “Seungmin, really….you don’t have anything to worry about. I’m not going anywhere any time soon- but I’m glad you came to me about your worries.” You brushed his hair back gently before rising from where you had been sitting on his lap. “I gotta finish putting these away, but I’ll be done in a bit and then we can go cuddle up in your room for a movie night if you want?” You suggested, figuring he was just missing you since it had been almost a month since they had all seen you or Jisung between the schedules you two had to miss and their vacation time after.

Before the beta could answer there was a knock at the door before it quickly opened to show a freshly showered Chan dressed comfortably in a pair of sweat pants and a tight fitting black tank top. “Hey Bunny I was thinking and I was wondering if you wanted- oh. Hi Seungmin- sorry Bun, I didn’t know you had company…” the beta stood quickly, looking between the two of you before bowing slightly to the alpha. “I was just heading out, hyung.” Seungmin spoke softly, giving you a sweet smile before heading out.

The pack leader didn’t miss the look of longing on your face as he left, or the way the room smelled like a perfect mix of the two of you in a way that brought him deep comfort. A smile settled on his face, knowing deep down what he had come to speak to you about was right as the effect the both of your scents had to calm down his nerves in an instant was enough reassurance for him that he wasn’t thinking irrationally. “Is everything okay, Chris?” You asked softly, trying not to sound too disappointed at the departure of the younger man. “Oh- right!” The alpha beamed, taking the clothing you were folding to set it on top of the dresser before taking both of your hands into his larger ones. “Bunny, I know this is coming far too late, and at this point it is only a formality- to make things official-“ As the older rambled on, your face betrayed you as it dawned on you what he had come to ask. “Yeah?” Your voice was full of hope, looking up into his warm brown eyes with excitement as you tried not to bounce on the balls of your feet with the anticipation building inside of your chest.

The alpha laughed, shaking his head before pulling your hands so that they rested against his chest and his arms moved to circle around your waist as if to help ground you from the adrenaline coursing through you. “Would you please join my pack?” You practically squealed, launching yourself at him as your arms wrapped around his neck and you cling to him tightly. “As if I’d ever say no-“ he chuckled, holding you close and rubbing slow circles over your back before carefully setting you down. “Well I wanted to make sure- you know you are already pack to all of us….this will just make things more-“ “-real.” You said, almost breathlessly as you thought about how things got to this point, all that you had been through to make it here.

“Do you want to do this here or-“ you said, eager to officially become a member of the pack you had become so fond of. “I thought so…if you want- would make the room smell a lot like me though.” You scoffed, eyes rolling playfully as you pulled the older man over to the bed. “You say that like it’s a negative thing-“ he only chuckled, choosing not to answer as you stopped at the edge of the bed.

Suddenly nerves started to build inside of you, wondering if it would hurt like how your mother had always warned though you were sure that was only to stop you from joining the first pack to come along asking for you to be their omega.

Chan offered a warm, dimpled smile as he could smell the anxiety suddenly tinging your scent. “Bunny, breathe.” His voice was deep, soothing, as one of his hands came to cup the back of your neck while the other rested on your waist. You forced yourself to hold eye contact with the alpha as he carefully pulled you close against his chest while using the hand on the back of your neck to tilt your head and make room for him.

His breath felt hot against your skin as he placed soft kisses against your scent glands, shivers running down your spine at the anticipation before suddenly you felt the sharp sting of his canines piercing your skin. You let out a whimper, hands fisting in his top before suddenly you felt your mind wiring with the connection to the eight members to yourself. Just like that your mind, body, and spirit felt heavily in tune with the man in front of you and as the feeling overwhelmed you your body went limp in his hold.

The leader was quick to support your weight, the hand on your waist curving around to hold you up against him before gently laying you down against the soft mattress. As he pulled away from your neck, Chan looked down into your blissed out expression and chuckled. “You took it better than Seungmin did- don’t tell him I told you so but the pup was a blubbering mess when he got his pack mark.” You couldn’t help but giggle, shaking your head at the thought as Chan laid down beside you and began carding his fingers through your hair gently. “Yeah? Well- he doesn’t like to advertise it but he is pretty sensitive.” The alpha laughed, head burying into your hair as he placed a kiss there.

“Want me to stay here for a bit while you settle into it all?” You nodded instantly, not hesitation as you curled into his side. “Please?” He nodded, holding you against him as you rested your head against his chest.

While you lay there, heart beat regulating itself from where it had spiked from the sudden rush of being linked together with the others instinctually. You could hear your phone buzzing on the beside table, no doubt from the others as they had to have felt the moment you were connected with them all through their own pack marks. “Leave it. We’ll go out and see them for dinner shortly anyways and we can talk all about it. Now I get you all to myself, the new baby of the pack.”

You giggled, shaking your head as you nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck. “Jeongin isn’t gonna be too happy about that-“ the older scoffed, pulling back enough to look down at you. “Actually it was Minho before you- so you’ll have to take it up with him.” His smirk wasn’t missable and you felt yourself take a deep and shaky breath. “Oh-“ was all you said as the alpha burst into a fit of laughter at the look of fear in your eyes, though only feigned as you knew the second eldest would never lay a finger on you like he did some of the others. Call it omega privileges if you will, or just the alpha’s own bias.

The two of you stayed like that for the rest of the evening until Minho was practically breaking down your door with how hard he was knocking, assuming the pair of you had fallen asleep, coming to let you know that dinner was ready and to come eat before it was all gone.

Three weeks, that’s how long it had been since you officially became part of the pack.

Things were going well and you felt as though you had found a better home than you could have ever imagined with the stray kids pack. Your days didn’t change much, only now the members who used to hold back from scenting you didn’t hesitate any longer. You were never without at least two of the members scents mixed into your own and it definitely turned some heads at the company but no one said a thing to you or the others about it.

You also had to get used to more than just Minho and Seungmin being overprotective.

If you were in the buildings cafeteria to grab coffees for the members, you would feel Hyunjin’s arms wrap around you lazily from behind as his chin came to rest on your shoulder and the scent of worn leather that had been sitting out in the sun draping over you just as his lithe frame did. His eyes would dart around the room, almost daring anyone to look at you the wrong way.

Or say you were at the photoshoot for their upcoming comeback, watching as they got done up in all the glitz and glam while unbeknownst to you the photographer was approaching from behind with a look in his eyes that didn’t settle well with Felix when he caught the movement from the corner of his eye.

Just as you were introducing yourself to the camera man you felt a strong arm wrap around your waist and the blonde’s long hair tickling at the side of your neck as he leaned down to whisper to you “is he giving you any trouble?” His voice was deep, a low growl hidden in his tone as you quickly shook your head, pushing out your scent in an attempt to prove to him that you were at ease. “Everything‘a okay Lixie, really.” With a little huff and a saccharine smile he gave a kiss to your temple before calling for the photograph to follow him, claiming he was ready for his solo shots while leaving the strong scent of sweet chocolate liquor on your skin where he had just held you.

And of course there was now, waiting at the airport with the members dressed head to toe in Tommy Hilfiger for their appearance at the Met Gala in just a few days time. You had Changbin on one side of you, his pine scent smelling like a forest after a heavy rainfall while on the other side of you Chan’s ocean breeze smelt more like a bright summers day. The contrast had you feeling dizzy as the cameras in front of you flashed in your eyes despite the sunglasses you wore for protection.

The boys had insisted they dress you up to match as well. Though it was just a simple pair of light wash jeans and a bright red Tommy Hilfiger sweatshirt, your heart fluttered at the thought that they wanted you to be seen as a part of them so publicly. While the rest of their staff wore their usual attire, you clearly stood out and almost looked to be a part of the group, and by a technicality you were.

You may not be a member of stray kids the band, but you were part of their pack and the visual hint to this sent fans into a spiral as your attire paired with the group’s quickly became a trending topic while you were busy boarding your flight to New York.

It felt a little unnerving to be headed back to the states after so long, especially the East Coast where you were originally from. Almost half a year had past and things were so different than when you had arrived for Korea alone and scared yet hopeful of what the new beginning would bring. Oh how right you were to be so hopeful.

author’s note: I am SO sorry this took me so long to update- I honestly just got so busy and my muse for this story started to kinda wither a bit but reading everyones lovely comments and reposts recently has been reviving my inspiration and I just couldn’t put it off any longer! Also I know- I was gonna keep where exactly Bunny is from more vague but tbh it’s hard to write a character being from somewhere you aren’t used to or have never been before?? So uuuhh east coast rep it is hehe~ please lmk what you all think of this chapter, what was your favorite part, and what you are excited for to possibly happen in the next chapter (spoiler alter it’s gonna contain scenes from the Met sooo let your imagination run wild with that for now!) ᕱᕱ₊˚⊹♡

taglist; (pink users I wasn’t able to tag) @coastinglove @skzswife @maisyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy @doitforbangchan @chartrucewhore @sebastianswhore13 @finnydraws @bahablastplz @0325tiny @motheraiya55 @confusedabouteverythings @hellevator-143 @ihrtlix @h0rnyp0t @katsukis1wife @emmxxsworld @tenshimara @im-sinking-in-mud @n1nme4r

[sh4wty18]

hii could i request reader x johnnie fluff where reader is best friends with him jake and carrington, both johnnie and reader are crushing on each other and yapping to jake and carrington about the other and jake gets to be cupid for his best friends

sorry if bad grammar, english is my second language

playing cupid.

pairing: johnnie guilbert x reader (featuring jake!)

summary: same as request

cw: fluff, dual perspective, language, mentions of vomiting/being hungover

word count: 1.7k + not edited (this was off the dome lol)

---

Jake’s POV:

Some people liked to assume that Jake was not an observant person, but he disagreed. Just because he was slightly aloof in attitude did not mean he wasn’t acutely aware of everything that went on around him, especially regarding his best friends. And Y/n, Johnnie, and Carrington were not only his roommates, but also his very close friends. 

For the last several months, Jake had been– well, he didn’t want to use the word ‘lurking’ – but watching Johnnie and Y/n’s interactions. He knew Y/n was always closest to Johnnie, of the three men, you would have to be an idiot not to notice that, he figured. But what he’d noticed more recently was their slight changes in behavior around each other. The way Johnnie would go out of his way to do little things for Y/n, like fill her water glass when it was empty, or bring her bedroom a fresh box of tissues when he noticed she was running low. Jake noticed the way Y/n purposely told the punchlines of her jokes in a way she knew Johnnie would laugh at, and the way her ears got two shades redder when he did. Jake noticed the stolen glances they gave each other when the other wasn’t looking, and the way their fingers would brush together when they wanted to get each other’s attention. Jake had noticed all of these quirks that Y/n and Johnnie had, and yet he hadn’t said a single thing to either of them.

No, Jake knew that a good best friend wouldn’t try to pry the information out of them, he would wait until one of them came to him. Or, bring it up in conversation with them individually when the time was right. 

As it turns out, tonight would be the night when the time was right. It was around 1 am, and Jake was sitting in his room, sifting through his hours and hours of stream content, deciding what he wanted to cut and edit for his live channel on youtube. Suddenly, his bedroom door slammed open, and a very drunk Johnnie stumbled in. He had just got back from hosting a local Emo Night with Y/n. 

“Dude I dunno whatta do…” he slurred, and Jake laughed. This did not please Johnnie, as he started making angry pouty faces at Jake.

Jake cleared his throat and played off the laugh, “What happened, man?” 

“I kissed ‘er. Y/n. I… I–” He collapsed on Jake’s bed, slamming his hands over his face to try and mask his embarrassment. “She’s gonna hate me.”

Jake cut him off, “Woah, Johnnie. She’s not gonna hate you. Why would she hate you?”

“I think she just wantsta be friends ‘n I messed it up!”

“Did she tell you she just wanted to be friends?”

“No but–”

“And do you feel like you have real feelings for her?” Jake interrupted, so as to not allow him to overthink, even in his drunken state.

“Yes.”

“Exactly. And by the looks of things, I think she has feelings for you too, dude.”

Johnnie moved his hands away from his face slightly, and turned to look at Jake, “Really?”

“Yes, Johnnie! Now go chug a huge glass of water and go to bed.” He got up and pulled Johnnie to his feet. Then he dragged him to the kitchen and got him a big glass of water, before walking him back to his own bedroom and tucking him into bed. “Goodnight.”

“Night, Jake.”

—

The next morning Jake sat at the kitchen table, bowl of cereal in hand, when Johnnie slowly trudged into the kitchen. Y/n was not yet awake. 

Jake giggled at Johnnie’s disheveled state, “Morning, sunshine.”

“Fuck off,” Johnnie mumbled, his voice still laced with sleep. 

“How you feeling?” Jake asked.

“Well, I’m hungover as fuck if that’s what you mean.”

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

Johnnie hesitated, “I don’t know, dude. I’m surprised I even remember our conversation if I’m being honest. I still kind of think I’m fucked… Thank God she’s not awake yet. I needed more time to contemplate all my shitty decisions.”

“Dude… I promise you’re not fucked. Like, I promise.” 

“Did she tell you something?”

“No but… a best friend’s instinct is never wrong…” he wiggled his fingers goofily in Johnnie’s direction.

“Are you forty? Like, what is that?” Johnnie asked sarcastically, but with his classic Johnnie laugh.

“Just trust me, Johnnie,” he put on a southern accent and clasped a hand over his heart, “Mother knows best.” 

“Yeah, okay man,” Johnnie laughed. 

—

Y/n POV:

You woke up with the throbbing headache and the sudden urge to vomit. As you ran to your bathroom and keeled over the toilet, you thought about the events of last night. No level of hungover could make you forget the fact that Johnnie had kissed you last night. You wanted it to mean something more than anything. 

You cleaned yourself up, brushed your teeth, washed your face, and got dressed for the day before heading downstairs to greet Jake. 

“Good morning,” he said with a grin, slurping up the last of his cereal milk.

“Morning,” you replied, grabbing a mug and pouring yourself a black cup of coffee, as well as popping a bagel in the toaster. “Where’s Johnnie?”

“He went back to bed. Claimed he was quote ‘too hungover for this shit’. How was your night?” Jake asked, a hint of a smile in his voice.

You turned around and were met with an expectant Jake leaning against the island behind you, arms crossed.

“Why…?” 

“Oh you know, I heard some rumors through the grapevine, the usual.”

“Did he tell you what happened?” you asked.

“Maybe…”

“Jesus, that man cannot keep his mouth shut to save his life.” You chuckled at the thought of Johnnie stumbling into Jake’s room to tell him what he’d done as soon as he made sure you were in bed, and a smile formed on your lips. “Well yeah. He kissed me. I don’t know if we’re gonna talk about it, or if it was a mistake, or what. But Jake, I need to get this off my chest. I’m like… in love with him. I have been for a while, and I don’t know what to do. I don’t wanna ruin the friendship.”

“Interesting, interesting.” Jake said, rubbing his chin with his thumb and pointer finger, as if this was news to him. 

“You knew?” 

“I had my suspicions! I’m more observant than you guys give me credit for!” Jake said proudly. “But trust me, Y/n, you have nothing to be scared of.”

“Did he… did he tell you something?” you asked, and Jake hesitated.

“No. I just have very good observational skills, can’t you just say you’re proud of me, damn!” he jokes.

You laughed, “Okay, Jakey.”

You’re getting ready to follow Johnnie’s lead and head back to bed (fuck the bagel), just because you felt so sick. But before you could leave, Jake grabs your arm.

“Seriously, Y/n. I think you should tell him how you feel. Chances are, he probably feels the same.”

“For real?” 

“Yes. And if I’m wrong… I’ll do all your chores around the house for a week.”

“Two weeks,” you add slyly.

“Deal!” he stuck out his hand and you shake on it. For Jake, a deal is a deal– no bullshit.

You head upstairs to fulfill your end of the deal. Even though you know that Johnnie would still want to be your friend, regardless of if he reciprocates your feelings, the nerves are still ever present in your stomach. 

You knocked on his door lightly, and heard a quiet, “Come in” from inside. 

You opened the door and crept into Johnnie’s pitch black room, you knew the layout of his bedroom by heart at this point. You could navigate his space with your eyes closed, so the lack of light made no difference. You mentally thanked Johnnie for inviting you to have so many movie nights in his room. Finally, you reached the bed and sat down on the edge, facing where you could only assume was his head.

“Hi,” Johnnie said, and you could hear the nerves in his voice.

“We need to talk about last night,” you say.

“You’re right,” Johnnie started, and you felt his weight shift in bed as he sat up to face you, even in the darkness. “I’m so sorry, Y/n. I don’t know why I kissed you last night. It was reckless and dumb, and I understand if you need space from me for a while. But… I can’t say it was a mistake. It wasn’t. Not for me.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest, and even though you knew he couldn’t see you, you were still embarrassed that your cheeks were burning up at his words. 

“That’s exactly what I came in here to say,” you smiled.

“Wait… really?” he asked.

“Yes, Johnnie. I don’t want to be just friends with you anymore. Do you think, could we ever…?” You trailed off, waiting for him to finish your thoughts, since you were too scared to vocalize them.

“Yes.” Johnnie said, this time there was zero hesitation or fear in his voice. “I want to be with you, Y/n. You’ll always be my friend, but we can be friends and?” 

“Yeah,” you giggled, “Friends and.” 

You reached out to feel for his face in the darkness, and your fingers brushed against the stubble on his cheek. You drew his face closer to yours, until your noses brushed together. His hands found your chest and moved up your neck to wrap around the back of your head, and he pulled your face impossibly closer to his. He pressed your foreheads together, and you breathed deeply, letting go of all your fear. You’d done it. 

You finally closed the gap between the two of you, and his lips were softer than you’d remembered them being last night. After a minute of getting used to the feeling of each other's mouths, for real this time, Johnnie smiled against your lips, and you can’t help but return the gesture.

“What?” you asked, still grinning.

“Nothing, it’s just… Jake was right. As usual.”

“Wait. Jake talked to you about this?”

“Yeah,” Johnnie responded, “He’s the one who told me to tell you my feelings.”

“No way, he told me the same thing!” you laughed, “That little fucking schemer!” 

Johnnie kissed you softly, and you felt him grin against your mouth again, “He’s like our cupid.”

 “Yeah, he really is,” you whispered, before leaning in to kiss Johnnie again. 

And now that you had him, you didn’t want to stop. 

---

guys please... idk how many more johnnie fics i can write PLS request jake or tara or literally anyone else once i reopen requests lolll

[noxturnalnymph]

Devotion 🖤 I. Stronger Together (Ch 2)

CultLeader!Joel x OFC!Reader

Series Summary: When is it enough? When is it too much? When does Devotion become Obsession?

Visit the Series Masterlist for series warnings, cult info, timeline info, and HCs on ages. Reader has a nickname and some minor physical descriptions - is an OFC from Reader POV.

*This series is 18+ MDNI. I will not be listing individual chapter warnings as I don't want to spoil the plot of each chapter. Please see the series masterlist for entire series warnings to decide if this is for you.*

PREVIOUS

I. Stronger Together

CH 2 (5k) You follow Tess to a colonial style house one block away from the main town square. It’s not as tall as the church on the other side of the park, but its three stories still tower over the smaller structures around it. You realize it's close enough that you could see the house from the clinic, and think about all of the still-hot meals Joel has been bringing you three times a day.

The house has an open yard on one side and a porch wrapping around one half front to back. Tess leads you inside and gives you a brief tour. The first floor has a large dining room at the front and a kitchen in the back; a large sitting room located on the opposite side of the home with Joel’s office behind a closed door beyond. Tess shows you your small room upstairs, right next to the bathroom, crowded even with only two furnishings; a single bed and a nightstand. 

Three shirts hang from the single window’s curtain rod and she tells you that the room and the clothes are yours and to let her know if you need anything else. When you make your way back downstairs with her she begins to introduce you to the other women who live there. You’re not sure what you were expecting but it certainly wasn’t to find Joel living in a house full of women. 

You hate the way it makes you feel. It’s a cold hand grasping at your insides, clutching them hot and tight yet freezing them solid at the same time. It makes you sick. You feel a stinging at your eyes and blink rapidly, fighting the urge you have to cry at every new introduction. There are two women in the kitchen preparing dinner, one in the living room mending a broken bowstring, and one working in the back garden. And Tess.

Tess is the only name you can remember. Your head is swirling, your heartbeat is in your ears, and you’re struggling against the sick feeling in your stomach. You’re not even sure you heard all of their names. As if you could even remember them, there were too many to even remember. Had he ever mentioned he lived with five fucking women before? You’re pretty sure you would have remembered that.

Tess had spent the morning moving her housemates around to clear the room at the top of the stairs that Joel said you could have. She knew Bianca wouldn’t be comfortable sharing a bed, so she moved her up to the attic, switching one of the occupants there to share a double bed in the room across from her own. They all moved around expeditiously and with no complaint. The women she shared her home with were easy going, but she still didn’t appreciate Joel dropping this work in her lap last minute.

Tess excuses herself and leaves you with the two women in the kitchen, the one from the garden – whose name, ironically, is Rosie – joining you later. You work beside them, eager to lose yourself in activity and stop your mind from racing. You’ve definitely lost your ability to small-talk, but the women are friendly and seem happy to meet you. The one Rosie calls Bianca is timid and silent, but the other two, Rosie and the other one doing most of the cooking, talk boisterously and animatedly to each other as you work.They excitedly tell you about the community. This is your first time hearing details about where you’ve been living for the past two weeks and you’re shocked to hear that the leader of the whole place is Joel. 

Joel – who has been walking over three hot meals a day. Joel – who has been reading stories to you morning, noon, and night. Joel – who has been following you around the park asking you inane questions. Joel – who asked you to move in with him. That Joel.

He definitely didn’t mention that he was the leader of the whole fuckin’ community. You would have remembered that too. They tell you that he brings people into the community if they need shelter and they can follow the rules. The rules seem simple; develop a strong and cohesive community, guard and keep your territory, and work collectively to gather and store resources.

You like the way the women talk about the community they call The Valley. They seem cared for and safe, and that’s also how you’ve felt since you’ve been here. Even though your plan has been to leave when you’ve fully healed, you’ve somehow allowed yourself to get pretty comfortable here. You’ve been distracted by Joel’s daily visits, you’ve been getting lost in the stories he reads to you, letting your mind wander from the harsh realities of this world.

The reality is that society collapsed and all people want to do now is survive, by any means necessary. People have only ever used other people, they take. They did that before the outbreak, but now it’s even worse. You’ve been used. You’ve been taken from. But even though it seems like Joel failed to tell you some things, he’s never taken anything from you. In fact, Joel has been very giving.

He and his patrol killed the clicker about to attack you, saving your life. He brought you into his town and had the doctor give you medical care, even after you threatened them with scissors. He’s been bringing you food, keeping you company, reading those books to you, and helping you gain some of your strength back. Apparently he even gave you his blood after you spilled most of yours down the mountain.

He told you that you were free to leave when you got better. And maybe you will. Maybe once you’re at full-strength you’ll feel like moving on. But maybe you should stay here a little longer. You have a room of your own, a warm place to lie your head, you’ve not been this well-fed in years. Maybe this could be a safe place for you, when no place has ever really felt safe before. Maybe Joel could give you that too.

– 

You’re still processing the revelations about Joel when he comes out of his office for dinner. You keep your head down, busy helping the women set the dinner table, carrying in the prepared food and drinks. Joel grabs your hand as you walk back into the kitchen, pulling you close to him. You don’t recoil from his touch anymore, as you’ve been making physical contact with him more often.

You’ve touched his arm or shoulder to point out an animal on your walk, he’s taken your hands to help you up and down steps. Unlike he usually does, this time he doesn’t drop your hand immediately, he continues holding it. He asks if you’ve ‘gotten comfortable’. You’re not sure how to tell him that you’re actually a little uncomfortable, given all the new information, without insulting his hospitality.

“Who are these people?” you ask him, looking down at your joined hands, unable to meet his eye.

“They didn’t introduce themselves to you?” he says gruffly, looking over your head. You look up to meet his eyes and he looks genuinely confused. 

“Of course they did…”, you let your unfinished sentence linger in the air, hoping he won’t make your pathetic mouth finish it. You feel absolutely ridiculous. You feel one foot tall again. Here you are, at the end of the world, jealous over a man you barely fucking know. Jealous. You. As if you have any right. He squeezes your hand, making your eyes crunch tight in defeat. You have to complete your thought. Out loud. How embarrassing. “Who are they to you? Are you… seeing any of them? Not that it’s my b– business or anything, I just didn’t–”

“Oh, PJ.” 

He cups your face in both his hands and the move has you flinching in surprise. He brings his mouth to yours slowly, so slowly that you’re sure you could have stopped it ten times if you wanted to. But you don’t want to. You don’t move a muscle, you’re pretty sure you don’t even breathe. And then his lips are on your lips. Time freezes. The whole world stops turning and it’s just him and you; his mouth on yours and his large warm hands surrounding your face and his nose pressing into your cheek. 

After a moment the world starts turning again. You hear the other women continue to move in and out of the kitchen behind you, paying no mind to Joel’s lips on yours, as if it's the most natural thing in the world. His hands slip to your shoulders and he places more gentle kisses on your lips, your cheeks, your nose. Joel takes your hand and leads you into the dining room, guiding you to sit in the seat next to his at the head of the table.

The meal is hot and delicious, cheerful conversations drift over the tabletop as everyone eats. Joel sees your wide eyes staring at him the entire time, picking at your food, unable to process the kisses he’d bombarded you with. He’s not sure why he did that, a voice inside him was screaming not to, worried he’d scare you off and you’d be out the door miles away by now.

He kept himself in his office all afternoon, trying unsuccessfully to distract his thoughts from you. When he finally came out and saw you in the kitchen, his kitchen, his home… he couldn’t help himself. You were in his home. He grabbed your hand and pulled you close but he sensed you were upset. Were you jealous?

Sure, he probably should have told you about the other women in his house, but you were just beginning to trust him. He didn’t think he could spin this in a way that you would be comfortable with. He didn’t think he would be able to get you here if he told you the truth. So he didn’t. And when given another opportunity to tell you the truth in the kitchen, he kissed you instead.

It doesn’t matter. They don’t matter. Whatever relationship he had with these other women doesn’t matter as long as you’re here, and you’re here now. You’re in his home. You’re his. He’s going to make you his. It’s all he wants now. You’re all he wants now.

–

You sleep warm in your bed the first night in your new home, but stay up late listening to the gentle creaking of the house. The occupants prove to be sound sleepers, and you find out why when you’re woken up before the sun the next morning. The four women who aren’t Tess rouse you from your sleep and give you a choice of inside or outside chores. You choose outside, hoping the crisp dawn air will help wake you up. It doesn’t. 

You spend the day tired but busy doing chores with a woman named Sasha. She was only a teenager when the outbreak started but she has some really great survival skills. Before lunch she takes you to the basement where she teaches you how to assemble shotgun shells. After lunch she walks with you to the nearby creek to do some fishing. Well, she fishes, you keep thinking you have something ‘big on the line’ when actually your hook is just caught on rocks. Joel and Tess spend all day out of the house and when you finally see him again, sitting next to him at dinner, you can barely keep your eyes open.

The following day is easier for you, since you slept early and solid through the night like everyone else. On this day after lunch Joel has been in his office, meeting with a long line of people one or two at a time. Each one shakes his hand as they leave, thanking him for his time. You wonder how many meetings like this he missed while he sat in your room reading to you for the last two weeks. You’re sitting in the adjoining room, doing a terrible job of mending holes in socks - you think they might be Joel’s – when the last person leaves his office.

He looks around the otherwise empty room and then his eyes meet yours. He smiles at you and holds his hand out in an invitation. You can’t help but hesitate. You spent hours every day with him for two weeks and now it’s been days since you’ve been alone with him for even one minute. The nerves bubble up in your stomach and you’re not sure if you want to run towards him or run away from him. You opt for the former, grabbing his hand and letting him pull you into his office.

The door closes behind you and suddenly you’re very aware of how alone with him you are. You’ve been alone with him every day in the clinic, with the door wide open, voices drifting down the hall from the other rooms. This feels different. The air feels charged. You’re suddenly terrified, an ice cold fear washes over your entire body as he bears down on you. He comes toe-to-toe with you as you press your back against the door and look in his eyes.

You look like you’ve been dropped into the lion’s den. He notices your panting breaths. The last time you looked this scared you were pointing a pair of scissors at him. Hey, he coos, careful not to touch you. What’s wrong, he hums, fighting the urge to pull you tight to his chest. You shake your head and stammer, unable to form a sentence. He slowly reaches behind you and twists the doorknob.

Joel pushes the door back open a couple inches, whispering we can leave that open, as he walks to the other side of the small room. He sits down at one end of a large leather couch and points to a stack of books on the table, drawing your attention to it. The books. You’d forgotten about the books. You’d dropped them on a table when you arrived and so much was going on they’d slipped your mind. Your hammering pulse begins to calm as you join him on the couch and inspect the books he’s picked. 

You hand him White Fang. It’s shorter than some of the other books in the stack but it was one of your favorites as a child. Not your favorite – you still haven’t seen that one presented to you yet. He takes the small paperback and begins to read you the opening paragraph as you settle your mind and relax your body, curved into the opposite end of the big brown couch.

This is how the following weeks go. Your mornings and early afternoons are filled with chores, working side-by-side with the other women in the house. Your evenings are dominated by sleep, heavy and healing after days filled with hard work. Three times a week you take your turn in the town’s impromptu bath-house, bathing in one of their tubs – previously a horse trough – full of hot water. Twice a week you gather with the rest of the Valley in a communal meeting at the church followed by a large meal, and every Friday entertainment events go on around the town square ranging from sporting events to dances.

But every day, without fail, you get time alone with Joel. He pulls you into his office before, after, or between meetings and reads to you. Sometimes it goes on for hours and sometimes he can only give you twenty minutes. But he gives you that time every day. You don’t see him giving that time to anyone else in the house, not even Tess, and so your initial feelings of jealousy fade away.

The only thing you fight now is your own mind. You’ve been with men before, you’ve been in relationships before. You’re not a virgin and you’re not a prude. But you’ve also been hurt by men before. Too many men and more times than you care to recall. You don’t think Joel would hurt you like that. You don’t think Joel would hurt you at all. But then again, you don’t remember thinking most of the other men would hurt you either, until they did. You’ve learned not to trust.

–

The second time Joel kissed you was days after the first, when he finished White Fang. Just a gentle kiss on your lips as you left his office. The next day he repeated the motion and then it became an everyday occurrence. Shortly after, it became a habit to kiss him as you entered his office. You would casually peck his lips as you passed by him at the doorway. He would close the door, save for the last few inches, and join you on the couch.

What started as a sprinkle quickly turned into a storm. You’re still too scared to ask him to close the door all the way behind you but you can’t get enough of him when you’re alone in that room together. What began on opposite sides of the couch quickly changes to you practically sitting in his lap as he reads to you. His hands find yours, or rest on your knees, or wrap around you and pull you to his chest so you can listen to his heartbeat. You start to feel safe.

You don’t even pick the books anymore, he just grabs a paperback off the shelves behind him – the selection lately has been John Grisham. They’re taking a lot longer to get through too, since he’s constantly stopping to talk to you and flirt with you and ask you questions. He sneaks a lot of kisses in between chapters too, but he’s pretty sure you like it.

He thinks you also like the way he finds your hand underneath the dinner table each night, always meeting his eyes with a smile. In the mornings, he meets you in the hallway outside the bathroom and he kisses your cheek, smelling your sleep-mussed hair, but avoiding pressing his ever-present morning erection into you. He knows you’re still skittish and he doesn’t want to push you. He knows you just barely trust him and he won’t do anything to endanger that. He doesn’t want to give you a reason to pull away from him.

Joel’s reading A Time to Kill, trying to push through a particularly difficult description of the attack and assault on Carl Lee Hailey’s young daughter, when he sees you getting antsy beside him. He stops to look over at you and sees a familiar look in your eye.You look like you’re uncomfortable, your eyes glazing over and your body becoming twitchy and restless.

“Do you want to stop?” he asks quietly, his hand softly stroking the leg you have in his lap.

“When was your birthday?” you ask, in an attempt to change the subject.

“M– My birthday?” You’re not making eye contact, you look distracted, miles away.

“Yeah. When you told me how old you were, you said you just turned it. When was your birthday?” 

“Yeah I just had my birthday in September.” 

You finally look at him, your brows stitching together. “Isn’t it October now?”

“Yes,” he waits for this line of questioning to make sense. Then he realizes maybe it won’t make sense. Maybe you’re just craving a distraction.

“Did I know you when it was your birthday?”

“Yes,” he rubs your leg more, “You were at the clinic.”

“When?” 

“Do you remember a night when I brought you an apple dessert?”

“You–”, your eyes move around the room, “Yes, I remember. That was your birthday?” He nods. You’re not looking at him, but he knows you can see him nodding in your peripheral vision. “I wasn’t very nice to you that day,” you say, suddenly sounding sad. 

“It’s okay, you didn’t know.”

“Why did you spend all that time with me when I wasn’t nice to you and it was your birthday?”

“I didn’t wanna be anywhere else, PJ.” You close your eyes tight, letting the silence hang between you.

“Do you think Jake gets Carl Lee off for the murders?” You change the subject again, asking him to spoil the ending of the book for you.

“Yeah, I think he does,” he answers, and you take a deep breath.

“That’s good,” you say, as you reach forward and slip the book gently out of his fingers, returning it to the shelf behind him. 

You lay your head in his lap and spend the rest of your time together that afternoon with his fingers carding through your short hair, comforting you. He hopes you know he meant what he said. He knew it then as he knows it now. There isn’t anywhere else he’d rather be than with you, birthday or not.

–

As the end of October arrives, it signals that you’ve been living in Joel’s house for a month. The past month, in addition to the two weeks previous to that at the clinic, have your side completely healed. All the physical work you do around the homestead has helped you gain your strength back and then some. You’re most definitely at ‘a hundred percent’. You would be physically okay to leave at any time, and yet, leaving is the furthest thing from your mind.

Joel is on your mind. All the time. The way he holds your hands, the way he pushes his nose to yours and makes you laugh, the way he kisses your lips, your hands,, your forehead, and your neck. The way he looks at you. The way he looks at you. It’s equal parts exciting and terrifying. And the way he makes you feel is the same. You want him so badly. You don’t know if you can trust him. You don’t even know if you can trust yourself. 

You long for that office door to click shut, to be completely alone with him. You want to feel his arms wrap around you, you want to feel his hands roam along your body, you want to feel his lips on your skin. You want to feel him everywhere. The thought of it sends jolts of electricity through you. The thought of him makes you wet. You’re sure that if that door latched you would be all over him like a rabid animal.

But the thought of that kind of intimacy is deliriously intimidating. You think of the first man who touched you like that. Too young, you were too young to be touched there. It frightened you. You lied still like a scared rabbit, hoping he would think you were asleep and stop. But he didn’t stop. You think about the last man who touched you like that. It wasn’t even that long ago, with dirty rough hands and a burning touch. He told you in your ear that you liked it, but all you remember is feeling pain.

That’s the fear that grips you out of nowhere, that keeps you frozen still and awkward when Joel’s hands roam too far over your body, that keeps you from fulfilling any one of your fantasies of having him naked on top of you. You still have trouble trusting him completely. What if he uses you and then discards you like the others did? What if he hurts you, causes you pain in your body and your heart and your soul? 

One night he pulls you out onto the front porch and kisses you against the house, the chill of night giving visible life to your hot breaths, nothing but the din of crickets in the background. You hear him say so beautiful as he drags his cheek against yours, lightly scratching you with his facial hair. Your body reacts before you can reason with yourself, you push him away from you.

“Don’t call me that.”

“What? Don’t call you what?” His arms are still holding your hips, the crease between his eyes deep as he looks across your face.

“Beautiful,” you say quietly, the cover of darkness not giving you any courage. “D- Don’t call me that.”

“Can I ask why?”

“Yeah, cause I’m not.” You swallow around the lump in your throat. “I might be a lot of things but I’m not beautiful, so when you say it to me, it feels like I’m hearing a lie. And I don’t want you to lie to me.”

He wraps his arms around you tight, pulling you back together, his chest warm against yours. He rests his head on your shoulder and his hot breath fans across your neck. He places gentle kisses there while he whispers I won’t lie to you into your skin repeatedly. He thinks of the half-truths he’s already told you and decides that they don’t count. The things he’s done in the past don’t count. All that counts is the man he is going forward, the man he is with you. 

–

The next night you’re on cleaning duty with Bianca and you’re both in the kitchen after dinner washing up from the meal. You think you like her the best out of everyone here. Not just because she’s sweet, which she is, but because she’s very quiet. She barely says five words all day and when you’re in her company you can just relax. You can let your mind wander. You can get lost in your thoughts of Joel.

Tonight she doesn’t feel good and you’re not sure how to help her. You tried saying something to Tess earlier but she told you that Bianca could come to her if she needed to talk. Well Bianca doesn’t really talk, so you’re not sure what to do. Joel walks in the kitchen and smiles at you, immediately noticing your look of concern. He takes a quick look at Bianca and sends her to bed, telling her that he’ll help you finish your chores.

You know he’s a kind person but you feel like part of the reason why he sent her upstairs was so he could put his hands on you and kiss you, which he does nearly every moment you’re alone. But not this time. This time he stands by your side as Bianca was, taking his task seriously, helping you to scrub and dry the day’s dishes. 

You break the silence and tell him that you always hated having to do the dishes as a kid, how it kept you from the other things you wanted to do after dinner. He asks if you still hate it and you tell him no. You tell him that since there’s no TV shows to watch, no mall to go to, and no friends to call, you’re pretty content with washing some dishes. He chuckles and says his daughter used to hate washing dishes too. 

Daughter?

“You had a daughter?” 

His hands still their movement. He didn’t mean to let that slip. Shit. Fuck. Sarah flashed into his mind and his guard is so low around you, it just came out. Yeah, he nods, resuming his scrubbing. He doesn’t want to say anything else. He doesn’t want these memories to come rushing in like a tsunami and drown him. 

“Her name was Sarah. She uh….” he begins, dreading this conversation.

He feels your soapy hand cover his under the water. You grab his fingers, causing him to let go of the dish he was clutching. You squeeze his hand and when he looks up and meets your eyes he’s hit like a fucking wrecking ball. Wetness rims your waterline. You’re staring straight through him, right into his soul. You see him. You see him. And he’s never going to be the same.

“I know,” you hum. The whole universe is in your eyes. “You don’t have to–”

“Died,” he finishes his sentence.

You nod. You know. Everyone lost everything when the world ended. You most likely lost loved ones too. You’re all just broken shells of people walking around now, although some are worse off than others. Your lip trembles and your eyes are wet like you’re going to cry tears for his lost Sarah too. You open your mouth and begin to speak with a shaky breath.

“One time when I was a pre-teen, I put off washing the dishes until it was very late, almost bedtime. When I was done my dad wouldn’t let me get ready for bed. He called me to come sit with him in the living room while he watched the ten o’clock news. A segment came on about teen pregnancy and the whole time I just sat there embarrassed, not understanding what we were watching, or why. When that story was over he clapped his hand on my shoulder and said, ‘okay then, goodnight,’ and sent me to bed. It wasn’t until years later I realized that was his version of the sex talk,” you finish with a chuckle.

Joel huffs out a laugh with you, finding your dad’s awkward solution somewhat relatable. 

“I just gave her a book,” he recalls, “Don’t even remember who I got it from, I think one of her friend’s mom’s? I don’t remember but… it didn’t go over well. There was a lot of eye rolling.”

Your eyes pinch together as you both laugh, causing the tears that had welled up to spill from the sides.  You finish drying the last dish and head upstairs to bed, but before you can turn towards your room he gently grabs your wrist and places your hand in one of his. His face is calm and peaceful. He looks content. He reaches his other hand up and cups your face. You think he’s going to kiss you, but instead he just says thank you. He holds your face a moment longer before squeezing your hand and heading into his room. 

🖤

NEXT

LAYOUT OF JOEL'S HOUSE

Thank you endlessly to @papipascalispunk for helping me with this series and listening to me rant about Cult Leader Joel. 🫂 I appreciate you SO much.

TAGLIST (lmk if you wanna be added or removed) @strang3lov3 @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @covetyou @iamasaddie @sr-lrn @clawdee @theywhowriteandknowthings @beefrobeefcal @merz-8 @speckledemerald @alltheseperfectimperfections @survivingandenduring @afraidtofear @millennial-teenybopper @missladym1981 @xdaddysprincessxx@lumoverheaven @ghoulettesinspace @brittmb115 @wintersquirrel @obscurexsorrows @littlevenicebitch69 @lulawantmula @pedroswife69 @joeldjarin

[wardenparker]

Bright Lights & Broken Dreams - pt 3

Dieter Bravo x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

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

Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

******

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

******

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

******

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

******

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

******

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

******

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My Masterlist!

[celuere]

I want you all over me.

pairing: feixiao x fem!reader

context: feixiao having never experienced a single mating cycle in her life was always something she has been relatively relieved about. That is until she met you

cw: feixiao has a dick here because I said so, breeding, mating press, feral feixiao, HSR didn‘t have any lore on how Foxians reproduce so I had to get creative, story takes place after she wiped the floor with Hoolay, biting 

First work on my iPad with the new bluetooth keyboard I ordered, truly a life changer. Not even my fever will stop me from writing Yuri. and also huge thanks to Ray for helping me with the gradient, not all heroes wear capes. Some of them are axolotls!

NSFW utc, MDNI!

Have you ever wondered if Foxians can enter a heat? Well, they do. Just not the way you think. There are a lot of factors that play an important role in a Foxians heat cycle.

For once their relationship status is a strong factor. Are they single, taken or even married? Are they happy in said marriage? Do they want to reproduce with their partner?

Then there is their age. A first Foxians heat cycle is usually triggered in the late 20s, some may experience it earlier, some later. There are even recordings of certain individuals not experiencing a single mating process in their entire lifespan, simply because they didn’t want to, have never found the right person and variety of other reasons. A Foxians urge to reproduce along with the frequencies of their cycles may decrease with age.

Now, once having lived through a mating cycle you are considered „Mature“. No, it doesn’t refer to your mental capabilities, it‘s simply the medical term for Foxians that can reproduce. Because until you didn’t live through at least one of these unbearable cycles, your ability to reproduce is -so the doctors call it- sleeping.

In the young days of the Xianzhou, where arranged marriages were still a thing, a certain medicine was to be used if one or both parties weren’t already mature to trigger their first heat, so they may produce an heir. That was until said medication was banned for good.

Once mature you only develop a steady, balanced heat cycle that may only occur when you’re in a happy, fulfilled relationship. A few may live through it two times a year, others every two months or even just once every year.

And during the actual thing? Unless not separated from their s/o, Foxians become extremely grumpy and frustrated, it‘s better to not bother them during this time. Just avoid them all together. They reach their breaking point once they’re reunited with their partner again. Be sure you won‘t be leaving the house or rather the bedroom for the next two or three days.

Feixiao usually was never bothered by the fact that she didn’t mature yet, never once was it a problem for her. Quite the opposite. Seeing how her Foxian friends and coworkers seemed to disappear off the face of society for a good few days actually relieved her. It meant no interruptions in her training schedule and left no room for distractions.

That was until you came along.

At first the general didn’t think much of it when you first started dating. She‘d touch herself to the memory of you, how good you‘d took her cock into your wet pussy last week, moaning and clawing into her trained shoulders as you begged for her to go faster. To fuck you harder.

She first didn’t think about how annoyed she got over the week because of the smallest thing, recruits being stupid, Jiaqou annoying her, she even gave Moze a whole earful when he tried his luck on her again. Only feeling better during the mornings and evenings she‘d spent with you in her arms. 

It reached a certain point on a Friday Night. Jingyuan sent her home after she almost lost her shit at Hana because of a simple misunderstanding from her side.

„Come back once you’ve calmed down.“, he said. 

The funny thing? Nobody was angry with her. Not Jingyuan. Not Jiaqou. Not Moze. Not Hana. Nobody. Everybody already knew what was going on with the Merlin‘s Claw. Except for the poor woman herself.

Or you.

Once Feixiao opened the door to your shared home and inhaled your scent, it‘s as good as over for the both of you. 

Poor you was just dusting off the shelves in the living room when your girlfriend practically threw herself right at you, hands clawing your shirt and pants right off of your body. Even your underwear covered too much for her liking. 

Her body felt too hot. The general had the impression she‘d burn to ashes from the inside out if she didn’t bury her already throbbing cock inside your cunt within the next moments.

„F-Fei, what- Hah!“, a bite mark on your most sensitive part on your neck never sounded better to her. 

She needed you carnally. Fucking wasn’t enough. She needed to breed you throughly until neither couldn’t think straight anymore. Until all that’s left inside of your spent pussy is her cum. 

„Quiet, darling.“, leaving your neck with a mark that will surely take on a pretty purple color during the next few days. Goodness, she might as well died without the tightness of your cunt.

In between the fog of clothes flying to the floor, sloppy kisses and Feixiao‘s growling right into your ear, you didn’t even notice when exactly she shoved her length into you. Suddenly she was all over you, inside you, digging her claws into your skin so she could drag you on and off her cock in a faster manner, soon forming creamy ring around her base that drove her close to madness. 

She wanted nothing more right now than for you to carry out her babies, the sheer thought only fuel to the fire that’s seemingly devouring her from the inside.

She didn’t try to angle her hips to hit your weak spot better, she didn’t care how you’re supposed to cover up the bite marks on your neck and shoulders, not even your beautiful tits were spared of her teeth.

„Fckin‘ take my cock into that pussy… g-get it all i-in there…“, she‘d mutter as she watches you melt over her for another time, your mixed juices oozing out on the sides whenever she‘d fuck back into you. That sofa will probably have to be replaced when she is done with you.

When your legs were pressed up against your chest that was probably the moment your soul disconnected from your body. Her using you more or less as a personal fleshlight was more than you could ever handle, even when she fucked her third load into your cunt, you just hoped she would keep on fucking out her heat with you.

If every cycle felt like this for her, Feixiao could only pray to Lan to be blessed by this amazing occurrence once every month. The warming sensation of your pussy tightening around her dick every so often, those pretty moans spilling out of your mouth with each time she rolled her hips against yours, only adding to the already torturous pressure against your cervix. She could go on like this for days. 

There was one time where she accidentally slipped out when pulling back, never in her life did something piss her more off than seeing her dick outside your cum-filled pussy. Her hands immediately went back around your hips and then she pushed herself back in. With one, smooth thrust you welcomed her back inside your warmth, that absolute guttural moan the both of you let out was surely to be heard outside by any random passerby.

But don’t think she will be done with you after a day. She‘ll make sure you fall asleep with your pussy warming her dick and she‘ll make sure you also get to wake up with it, only so she can mess you up all over again.

Maybe being mature isn’t so bad after all.

[miguelsfangservice]

BEYOND THE SPOTLIGHT

Pairing: Miguel O'hara x F!Famous Idol Reader

Warnings: Negative and positive stereotypes about the industry (idk, probably later in the story), and not the best english lol (sorry in advance). Summary: It doesn't matter he's at HQ trying to keep the multiverse afloat, your face, your voice, your smile and laugh follows him everywhere. No, he is not loosing it (yet); it's just that its kind of inevitable when most spiders under his command are... how did Gwen called it? Ah-staning you? Well, he can't really complain, it's his girlfriend,after all.

“The first time you hear it it may seem shallow, but I’m telling you,bro,when you pay close attention  it’s one of the best pieces of art depicting the oppression of individuals for expressing their sexuality, y’know what i mean.”

An awkward silence settled in the room before Pavitr and Miles let out some nervous chuckles.

“I thought it was a love story” Miguel's ears hurt just by hearing Pavitr retort with his mouth full of god knows what..

“...I’ve listened to it a couple of times and I have to agree with Pav.”

Before Hobie could open his mouth to reaffirm his earlier claim, Miguel slammed his fists on his desk.

“Do I need to remind all of you we are trying to have a serious discussion here?”

Silence. For at least a few seconds before Pavitr can’t resist anymore and turns to Hobie once more.

“What part of the song are you referring to, because I think-”

“It’s specially obvious at 1:30 when she sings-”

“Get out- If you’re not taking this problem seriously,OUT”

“ But I'm…” Miles tries to argue back, but at this point and with how exhausted Miguel is, he just doesn’t care about whatever they have to say.

“THE THREE OF YOU, GET OUT OF MY SIGHT”

While leaving his office, Hobie and Pavitr still have the absolute audacity to continue their discussion in hushed voices (mostly Pavitr, Hobie does not care if Miguel hears him”; Miles doesn’t speak again but Miguel can see him trying to hide his amusement.

If Miguel had eaten anything, if he had gotten enough sleep or, most importantly, if he had seen you at least once today, he miiiiiiiight’ve been in a better mood to confirm that yes, Hobie was right, it was kind of your intention to convey those themes in your last single.

He would know, he was there giving you feedback  and taking care of you when you put your heart and soul into writing that song.

Also, even if he had the mood to discuss it with those kids, he wouldn’t try his luck and let them get suspicious enough for them to put everything together and figure out he’s been dating you for over a year now.

Miguel wouldn’t hear the end of it if any of the spiders knew about their huge and scary boss dating the “pop divinity”, the “fan´s delight”. Besides, it would get a lot harder for you to sneak into the HQ to spend some time together after your rehearsals or just when about every spider went home.

Although, he couldn't deny he was getting tired of keeping the relationship a secret; he hated hiding to every person he deemed close to him the fact that he wanted to spend the rest of his miserable (and probably very short) life with you.

But he knew you were not quite ready yet. Not until you were able to live with the fact that yes, your boyfriend is Spiderman, and he’s not only putting his life and sanity at risk in your universe, but also putting an unimaginable burden on his shoulders by trying to keep several other universes safe.

You already had a lot on your plate with the sudden burst of fame and all the work you were putting into creating your first solo album.

Sometimes, Miguel kinda wished you were still doing activities with your girl group, it put a lot less pressure on you and your health. But he felt guilty just for thinking about it.

This was your dream, having your own solo activities, showing the world your songs and what you were capable of. And he was so proud of you, so happy to see your face light up after you finished writing a song or when you learned a difficult choreography. 

Miguel O’hara had the heart of steel to do a lot of harsh things, to take the decisions no one else wanted to take for the sake of hundreds of universes and yet, he couldn’t bring himself to see your sad face if he ever questioned what you were doing to achieve your dreams.

“Lyla, I'll be calling it a night. Got to get home.”

Just when he was about to exit, she appeared right in front of him with a huge magnifying glass in which he could see her eye getting bigger, examining him; Miguel grunted and tried to brush her off as if she was a bug

“This early? Who are you and what did you do with my boss? I’m gonna put the emergency lockdown if you don’t answer me right now-”

“I’m trying to recall at what point of your creation I made you this damn noisy.” he hissed, walking faster and then swinging away from her. “Besides, no te hagas tonta (don't act dumb), you know damn well where I’m going and with who.”

“And I appreciate the trust you put in me by telling me your secret–” she started saying, solemnly.

“We both know I didn’t have much of a choice.”

“But, as your best friend and the one who knows you best–”

“Firstly, I don’t have a best friend and secondly, the one who knows me best is Y/N, not you!” Miguel interrupted and pointed a finger at her, trying to poke her, but his complaints were ignored as Lyla continued with her ramblings.

“I think I have enough authority in your life to give you some well needed love advice” Miguel couldn’t help but snort at the ‘authority’ affirmation.

At this point he decided to completely ignore her voice and focus on getting to your shared home; it had been a long day and all he wanted to do was bury his face in your shoulder and try to sleep with his girl by his side.

❃❃❃❃

A/N: Well, this is my first fanfic for the fandom. If you liked this, please, consider following, leaving a comment, like or reblog, I would really really appreciate it, specially cuz I'm not sure if anyone would like to read more about this.

[crescenthoax]

a nightmare before Christmas • pt2

🎄or an Annika, Floris, Willa and Targtowers Christmas tale🌟

Part One

Part two

Part three

Summary: Aemond, Daeron, Aegon and Helaena had different things planned for Christmas, but one same fate: their father’s old cabin.

Basically an i’m never gonna love again christmas modern AU because we need to spread some joy on these times and I wanted to write something fun. Mainly centred around Aegon x Female OC.

Part 2/3. Part 3.

🧣⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⍣ ೋ *ੈ🎄‧₊˚ . *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ೃ࿐🌟

“I can't believe you convinced me to do this,” says Aegon, shaking his head. “I don't need no game nor excuse to get wasted.”

“Oh, come on. We’re all going to play,” Helaena tells him, amused. “Even Aemond.”

It translates easily to: ‘You can't be more boring than him.’

It’s not that Aemond is the boring type, in fact, he's just so reserved and responsible that he's gotten used to having fun in other ways. But everyone has seen him drink whiskey as easily as soda and smile as if he had two hooks on his face and scarlet–flushed cheeks while dancing during Annika's New Year's party on the yacht in 2019.

Everyone sits in a circle around the coffee table in the huge living room. Logan stirs some logs in the fireplace, trying to revive the flames before sitting down between Helaena and Annika on the couch. Aegon is sprawled on one of the individual and comfy, green velveteen chairs, just like Aemond on the other, and Floris sits with Willa and Daeron on the other couch.

“So, does everyone know how this works?” Annika asks, finishing pouring herself a glass of white wine. On the table, there is an exaggerated amount of drinks to choose from. “Someone says something, and if you've done it, you drink. If you haven't, you don't. It's simple.”

“Never have I ever explained a game we all know just to seem smart,” Aegon laughs. “And now you drink.”

She sighs and takes a sip of wine after flipping him off. So much for the ‘truce.’

“Logan, why don't you start? That way, we can get to know you better,” Annika insists.

He feels a bit pressured with the number of new and curious looks around him, but he seems to handle it wonderfully. “Hmm. Never have I ever... been to a party I wasn't invited to.”

“Easy!” Aegon singsongs and drinks from his beer. Daeron, Logan himself, Annika, and Helaena follow suit. Surprisingly to everyone, Floris also drinks, drawing attention. “Are you kidding me?”

“Why do you sound surprised?” She shakes her head, pretending to be offended. “Never have I ever gone skinny dipping.”

“I love the new Floris,” Aegon mocks, drinking. “Singleness agrees with you.”

Everyone drinks this time, except for Annika and Daeron, and she gets some skeptical looks. She puts her feet up on the couch to get more comfortable, her black ballet flats shining even brighter than the Christmas tree. “What? I find it unhygienic.”

“Never have I ever creeped an ex on social media,” Willa dares to say this time. Helaena and she are the only ones who don't drink, and Floris joins them while she shifts uncomfortably, seeing that Aemond does drink.

Aegon sees the opportunity to create a tense moment and seizes it. “Never have I ever lost my virginity to someone in this group.”

“Are you serious?” Helaena sighs.

“Very.”

The only ones who drink are the broken–up couple and the one that sticks together like peaches and cream. Willa takes a long gulp of her fruit cocktail, probably trying to shake off the embarrassment. She has not yet understood that no one really cares.

“Never have I ever had a crush on my siblings’s friends or on my friends's siblings,” Aemond says, accusingly looking at Aegon.

“All hail Cassandra Baratheon,” Annika murmurs before drinking. Daeron and Logan follow her, and so does Aegon, without any problem. Helaena turns her head trying to make sense of the situation, but Annika quickly adds, “Never have I ever been with someone of the same sex.”

She drinks. It doesn't surprise anyone that Aegon also drinks. It surprises everyone that Floris does.

“What!?” Helaena demands, laughing. “When!?”

“Never have I ever had a threesome,” Aemond basically answers for her. Annika chokes on the water she's drinking, and Aegon bursts into laughter when he sees the ex-couple drink, along with Logan and himself.

“Well, I don't have to know everything,” Daeron complains, wrinkling his nose in disgust. He usually is the one who always lags behind when it comes to knowledge about his brothers's lives, and to be honest, sometimes he feels it's better that way.

“Never have I ever broken the law,” Willa says. It's not surprising that everyone drinks this time, except her and Logan. Rich people thing, apparently.

“Never have I ever gotten a piercing,” Logan offers.

Helaena is the only one who drinks, her navel and ears heavily jewelled. And then, Aegon looks at Annika and shakes his head.

“I can't believe it. After all this time, and you still are a fucking cheater,” he addresses her.

“Excuse me?” She chuckles, feigning ignorance.

“You just lied.”

“But she has no piercings,” Floris defends her. Annika tightens the glass in her right hand and shifts uncomfortably on the couch.

“She has her right nipple pierced!” Aegon growls.

“Aegon!” Annika shouts, annoyed. “That's not something yours to share.”

“God, you always do the same thing and cheat on this stupid game. Why did you want to play if you're not going to expose yourself?”

“I don’t need them to know what I have pierced and what I don't. It's not about that,” she grumbles, crossing her arms.

Daeron furrows his brow. “How do you know she has a nipple piercing?”

“And when did you pierce your nipple?” Helaena asks, confused.

Annika bites her lip for a moment, suddenly too aware of the piercing that now seems to be warming up, the sensitive, raw skin against her bra. She was supposed to get both nipples pierced, but she couldn't bear the pain, at least not sober. She would come back someday for the next one, of course.

Aegon had taken her to get it done when she visited him in San Francisco last spring. The last time they saw each other. He promised her it would feel good afterwards. It's not something she has experienced yet.

He notices what the memory does to her. Annika moves again, too uncomfortable under his accusing gaze.

“I saw her naked this afternoon. I found her in the shower when we arrived. It was accidental,” Aegon explains casually. Annika's cheeks flush, yet she's grateful that Aegon thought so quickly to cover his tracks.

Now, that’s kind of a lie.

He had seen her naked since Annika's 20th birthday. She spent some time at the Targaryens’s house in London during lockdown, and there came a moment when they were so bored that one night, after swimming and drinking by the indoor pool, she came out dripping from a dive and went into the changing rooms to dry off. He followed her and didn't say anything; he was so bored that he held her against the wall and ate her out until she cried. He always had a thing for her and knew she was as bored and lonely. That night, she sneaked into his room, and he fucked her until she begged him to stop. Earlier, she had told him not to stop when she asked, so they fucked until he passed, and she had trouble walking the next day.

She had never felt such connection with someone before. They got along so well inside the bedroom that it was almost addictive. When they were alone, they got along even better than they did when they were with the others. And it made sense. It made all the sense in the world for them, but not necessarily for the world.

So when they wanted to have fun, without explanations, they flew to see each other. Or they met in places where they couldn't be found, like the time he fingered her at the Eiffel Tower on a random Thursday night in March.

And no one ever suspected. Until...

“I can't believe you said that,” Annika clicks her tongue. “Okay, if that's how you want to play. Never have I ever used Aemond's toothbrush.”

“You did what?” Aemond grumbles, turning to his brother with unease. “Dude. What the actual fuck?”

“Well, thank you very much, you witch,” Aegon rolls his eyes and takes a sip of his beer. Then he smiles at the blonde sitting across from him and extends his can to her. “Never have I ever used Annika's toothbrush," he says, finishing the can with pride.

“God, you're such a pig!”

“Now I understand why Aegon's room is always a suite,” Daeron mocks, putting an arm around Willa's shoulders and leaning back on the sofa, pulling his girlfriend towards him. “You never used my toothbrush, right?”

“I once used dad's toothbrush to brush Sunfyre's teeth,” Helaena adds, tipsy as she could be. Everyone looks at her strangely, and they burst into laughter instantly. “I was really mad at him.”

“Why?” Willa laughs.

“I really don't remember. It must have been important for me to decide to brush Aegon's dog's teeth with his toothbrush,” she shrugs. Logan looks at her amused and shakes his head.

“It's such a Helaena thing to do,” Floris adds. “Remember the time Annika released Helaena’s spiders in the classroom and told Cressida they were poisonous?”

“Why would you do that?” Willa asks.

“Because I hated that bitch,” she replies simply. “She was sort of like my nemesis. She hated me too.”

“I fucked with her,” Aegon adds, “in her cabin when we went to that horrible camp with our school, during lunchtime.”

Floris grimaces in disgust. “But she was in our cabin.”

“I know. She insisted on doing it on Annika's bed,” he laughs, and her jaw drops. “She got back at you; you have to give her that.”

“And you participated in that?!” She screams. “Aegon, I can't believe you!”

“Oh, don't be so pristine. It was over the sheets. And hey, we could have put your toothbrush in the toilet of public bathrooms, but we didn't,” he replies.

“Okay. Never have I ever done it in someone else's bed,” Logan intervenes, somewhat familiar with the dynamics of distracting Annika and Aegon from tearing each other apart like wild dogs.

Everyone drinks, except Annika. “As I said, it's unhygienic.”

“What do you not find unhygienic?” Daeron teases her. “Okay, I want to know this, and I think it's the moment. Never have I ever been with a teacher.”

“You're still on that? I already told you I didn’t!” Aegon leans in to push his younger brother's arm playfully.

“You were sober when I asked you! I thought you were lying for my sake,” Daeron defends himself, laughter vibrating through the walls. “I had heard the rumours.”

And everyone's laughter accompanies his, except Aemond and Floris, who remain in a creeping silence, looking at each other.

“I mean, it's something he would do,” Helaena shrugs.

“No, I had heard that...-“ He stops speaking, the smile on his face turning from confusion to more confusion than grace when he looks at Aemond in deafening silence, just like Floris by his side. When everyone notices it, the atmosphere seems to dissipate. “I had heard that... Hum, one of my brothers... That...”

Helaena and Annika look at each other. Then Annika looks at Aegon, who keeps his mouth in an ‘O’ shape and remains motionless, trying not to add more fuel to the fire.

“C’mon,” Floris speaks for the first time. She and Aemond exchange glances, and the coffee table is not the only thing separating them because it feels like there are miles between them. Floris's voice is cold, just like her eyes. Annika knows her well enough to know that she's drunk. “Rules are rules. If you've done it, you drink.”

“I don't understand,” Logan murmurs, a bit lost.

“No? Well, let me try again. Never have I ever found my boyfriend fucking one of our high school teachers in my own bed, only to find out they had been screwing behind my back since we were in high school.”

Floris finishes her glass of red wine in three long gulps. Helaena stays silent, her hand resting on her mouth to hide the surprise. Logan and Willa shrink in their places, while Daeron scratches his head uncomfortably, and Annika bites her inside cheek.

Aegon takes a small sip of his drink with a loud noise. “Aemond… This is fucked up. Really, really bad. The kind of thing I would do.”

Floris leaves the empty glass on the table with so much accidental force that it breaks. Helaena startles, and Floris stands up, swaying. “This has been fun. Have a good time.”

She walks away without even looking back at Aemond, leaving everyone too bewildered to react quickly. He sighs, leaves his drink on the table, and tries to stand up.

“Floris, wait...”

“Haven't you done enough?” Annika spits venom, getting up and pushing him back into his seat. No one understands if Aemond doesn't resist her push or if she really used brute strength. Through gritted teeth, she points at him with her index finger. “No. Don’t you even dare.”

It's she who takes light steps and disappears upstairs, following Floris. Aemond shifts uncomfortably.

“I wouldn't do it if I were you,” Aegon warns.

“Man. What the hell?” Daeron sighs, running his hands over his face. “How long has this been going on?”

"I don't know. It happened a couple of times in our graduation year, and then we met each other last year, and... I don't know. It's been...”

“Aemond, right now, no one has a worse opinion of you than I do,” Helaena tells him, placing a hand over her heart. “Who did you screw?”

He puts his hand on the bridge of his nose. “Mrs. Rivers.”

“The health teacher? Seriously?” Aegon jokes.

“And you didn't think, I don't know, to break up with your long term girlfriend before doing it? Or after?” Logan intervenes. Aemond looks at him seriously.

“Who the hell do you think you are?”

“Hey,” Helaena tells him. “He's a friend.”

“He's not my friend,” Aemond hisses. “He's just a stranger who came to our door like a lost puppy.”

Aemond stands up and disappears, not up the stairs but towards the dining room, and Aegon is almost sure he hears him heading to the yard. Surely to smoke a cigarette secretly from all of them because God forbid he lets his friends and family know that he also feels and makes mistakes and drinks and smokes and is not the perfect child everyone thinks.

“Hm, Willa, do you want to eat something? Would you help me clean this up?” Helaena offers to the girl who looks terribly uncomfortable. At the same time, she signals Aegon to check on Aemond.

Aegon shakes his head, and Helaena stiffens her face. She has a look that's too demanding sometimes that reminds him of his mother's, and it gives him chills. It makes him get up from the couch and hit Daeron's shoulder to follow him to the yard.

He obeys, a bit confused. “Where are we going?”

“To see if Aemond is okay.”

“Of course he's okay. He's Aemond. And if we had to be checking if someone is okay, it should be Floris,” he says.

Aegon stops him in his tracks and grabs his shoulders. He looks at his brother, although he's taller than him, he still needs to learn a thing or two. He understands that the age difference between them is enough, but he also understands that Daeron is no longer a child.

“You're a man now, and that means you must learn something about this family. It's a twisted family of fucked–ups, and we screw up every day. I've messed up. Helaena has messed up. Mom and Dad specially, blah, blah. It happens, it's like it's encoded in our DNA. Aemond screws up too, and I'm sure you'll do it someday too. Not necessarily with Willa, it just will happen. And no one understands the feeling better than us,” Aegon explains. “This is what being part of this family is about. And we have an unspoken agreement; no matter what it is, we get through it. We don’t judge. Aemond is our brother, so we are not gonna judge him even though he deserves it.”

“Alright. I understand,” Daeron says and follows his older brother. As they suspected, Aemond is smoking, to the youngest’s impression. “I feel like I don't know you.”

“You don't,” Aemond mutters.

“Are you okay?” Daeron asks, resisting the urge to punch him or roll his eyes. “Why didn't you tell us what happened?”

“Yeah, like I would judge you for it,” Aegon laughs. “I hooked up with mom's pilates instructor while dating Alysanne.”

“Oh my God. I'm not like you, Aegon.”

“Realization sucks, right? It's tough. We've all been there. Fortunately for you, I'm the worst of us,” Aegon laughs. The two youngest ones remain silent, and the sound of crickets is the only thing heard for a moment. “Screw you both. You could try telling me otherwise.”

“Well...” Daeron hisses.

“Fuck you, seriously” Aegon flips them off. “Back to the important stuff. What happened with Floris?”

Aemond gets lost staring at a fixed point on the snow-covered ground, as if he's recalling all the events that led him to do what he did. But he can't. “I don't know,” he confesses sincerely. “I don't...”

“Do you love her?” Daeron asks.

“How could I not love her? She's been with me all my life. And I've been with her all her life. Since we were kids. School, my accident, high school. Birthdays, funerals, parties. She's always been there. We've always been me and her. Just like Helaena and Annika. Or Aegon and… Alcohol.”

“Oh, no. You’re making jokes now?” Daeron panics, and Aegon chuckles. “That doesn't mean you love her. It means you're used to her. And Floris doesn't deserve that. Neither do you.”

“I know she doesn't. She deserves something better,” Aemond says. “And I really care about her, and it hurts to have lost her, and it hurts to think about a life without her.”

Aegon rolls his eyes. “She'll always be there. You know, Helaena will never let go of those two girls. They've always been a pain in the ass for us and always will be. That's the fun part of being us.”

Aegon knows they would always be with them because their friendship with Helaena was not going to end. He knows Annika and Helaena would always be friends. But Aegon and Annika wouldn't always be together.

“I guess you're right.”

“Why didn't you invite me to come here with you?” Daeron asks suddenly. “I could have... I don't know. I understand you didn't want to spend Christmas at home, but I didn't think you wouldn't want to spend it with me.”

“Hey, you didn't want to spend it with us either. Otherwise, why did you come here with just your girlfriend?” Aegon questions. “We thought you'd get bored, and honestly... You are still not old enough to enter the casino or drink excessively.”

Daeron rolls his eyes. “You think I don't have a fake ID? I could have come with you.”

“And if you had come, we probably would have avoided this nightmare before Christmas situation,” Aemond says, scratching his good eye. “I don't know, I guess it’s hard for us to think you’re not longer a kid.”

“Sometimes it hurts being left out all the time, you know?”

“Welcome to being a Targaryen in the real world,” Aegon says, patting his shoulder. “You're officially invited to our Christmas getaway in 2024. And this time, it will be just the three of us.”

“No, I think I'll go home for Christmas next year,” Aemond shakes his head. “It's a pain in the ass, but not as much as being here in this situation.”

“I shouldn't have asked about the teacher thing,” Daeron laments.

“You had no idea. I didn't even know either,” Aegon sighs. “Did she tell the girls? Helaena seemed surprised. And I don't think Annika knew either.”

Aemond shrugs. “When it happened, she packed her things and didn't say a word to me. We know Floris; she's quiet, reserved, and she won't show what she doesn’t want you to find out. She wouldn't go with Helaena to tell her that her brother is a liar and a cheater, and she wouldn't tell Annika because she's also my friend. Was. Whatever.”

“I don't think she'll stop talking to you; she'll just give you a hard time. You know Annika,” Daeron reassures. “By the way, is it true about the piercing?”

Aegon smirks. “It's true.”

“Did you see it?” Daeron asks, with a grin.

Aemond smacks him on the back of the head. “Have some respect.”

“Oh, I saw it,” and other things. Daeron wants to ask what he has always wanted to ask, but he bites his tongue, remembering the situation that unfolded because of his questions. Aegon notices and appreciates it. “Well, the party is obviously over. We should eat something and go to bed. If we're lucky, the storm won't be so bad, and you can leave tomorrow.”

“Oh, yeah,” Daeron says, suddenly a bit dejected. He actually wants to stay. “Right. That sounds good.”

🧣⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⍣ ೋ *ੈ🎄‧₊˚ . *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ೃ࿐🌟

Annika and Floris made no appearance while the rest had dinner watching a horror movie. The girl went downstairs for some food for Floris and then apologized to Willa and Logan for their absence, going back upstairs with her friend immediately.

Aegon drank more beer with dinner, and as soon as they finished eating, Aemond tried to wash some dishes, then went to his room alone without saying a word. Daeron had looked at Logan and Helaena, who were talking and laughing as if nothing had happened, with a strange expression and asked, “Where do you plan on sleeping?”

Helaena pinched his cheek as if he were a little kid. “You are adorable.”

It was her kind way of telling him to fuck off.

And although Daeron invited Willa to swim in the indoor pool, she claimed she wanted to go to bed, too tired to even breathe. If he had to be honest, all the drama had exhausted him too. So, the gang was reduced to Aegon, Helaena, and Logan. Aegon couldn't stand to third wheel with her little sister and a guy who dresses like some dude out of a Netflix Christmas rom–com , so he grabbed some beers and went up to his room with plans to drink until he passed out.

It doesn't happen.

He grunts and gets out of bed, exhausted from trying to sleep. The drunkenness already is part of his natural mental state.

The only lights on the house are the Christmas tree lights tinkling at a strange pace, and besides the muffled music echoing from the pool and the occasional laughter from Helaena, the only thing that can be heard is the squeaking wind. He makes his way to the kitchen feeling utterly cold; the heating in his room was so high that the change is brutal. He's not going to bother looking for the heating controls at this hour, and the fire in the living room fireplace has almost died down.

The refrigerator light beams on Annika's figure. She's sitting on the counter, with a glass of water, a pack of cigarettes, and staring at her dimly lit phone screen. She's wearing a black and pink satin pyjama set, tank top and shorts, and a somewhat warm robe, but she looks frozen. Her hair is wet.

“Late-night swim?” Aegon asks, startling her. “That brings back memories.”

Annika clicks her tongue. “No, I had to shower. Needed to get Floris's vomit off me.”

“Yikes,” he sticks out his tongue. “How's she doing?”

“Well... She... It's going to be tough.”

"You didn't know about…?”

She shakes her head, putting her phone aside. “No. She came to our flat one day with suitcases and teary eyes, and there was no need for her to say anything. We assumed that, well, she would tell us in her own time. She just said they wouldn't be coming back together, not like other times, and we figured it must be serious because she flew from Boston to New York,” she explains. “Did you know?”

“No, of course not,” he shakes his head. “Hey, don't give Aemond a hard time.”

“I couldn't care less about Aemond.”

“Did she fall asleep?”

“Passed out from crying too much, rather. I can't believe he did this to her. I mean... Ugh. It's something we might have expected from you, certainly not from him.”

“Oh, well,” he shrugs as he takes a seat on the bureau next to her. “I know my limitations, believe it or not. For starters, I would never be in such a closed relationship for so many years. They were in a cage, both of them.”

Annika rolls her eyes. “Can you believe they had a threesome?”

“I know, right?” Aegon laughs, and she joins in. “The kind of stuff I'd expect from you. Trying to revive a relationship that's clearly dead by adding a third party.”

She laughs. “Sounds like something I would do. You know how much I tend to cling to things even when the odds aren't in my favour.”

Aegon sighs. “So...”

“So...?”

“Can I see it?” Aegon suddenly asks, and Annika looks at him confused. “Your piercing.”

“I thought you said you saw it in the shower,” she says, placing the glass of water on the marble table. It makes a noise that feels louder than it actually is, and she squirms uncomfortably at the thought that someone might have heard it and finds them there, alone, together.

For someone who claims to be a loner, Aegon has a constant need for attention and contact, especially if it's from Annika. It's nothing new; he used to pull her braids when they were kids to attract her attention. Now he begs her to let him see her boobs. Normal.

He smiles. “I didn't. Everything was full of steam and foggy.”

“But you saw it. You were there when I got it done,” Annika reminds him, embarrassed. “You gave me the little piece of chocolate when my blood pressure dropped. You put a can of Coke on the back of my neck and helped me button my blouse.”

“First of all, it was Dr. Pepper. And second, it doesn't count because I didn't see it properly. And you left before we could do anything...” He shrugs. Annika squints her eyes. “I want to see it. Please.”

“You exposed me in front of everyone and almost got us caught. Why would I show it to you?”

“Because you're good at giving me what I want,” he says, devilishly smiling as he leans toward her.

“And what about what I want, huh? Not everyone can have what they want. I want a unicorn, for example.”

“I'll buy you a horse and pay to have a surgical pink horn put on it. Damn, I'd pay to have wings attached and teach it to fly if you want a freaking rainbow pegasus,” he roars, his voice deep.

Annika laughs and lowers the strap of her satin pajamas so Aegon can see. Not sure why she does it, but Annika loves to give him what he begs for. He doesn't ask for permission to stroke the side of her breast with his thumb, right at the curve. He moves her wet hair back and sighs as he feels the goosebumps on her skin.

“I like it. Although sometimes I catch it with the towel, and it's a little annoying,” she tries to ignore the fact that he's touching her after months and that when he touches her, her skin turns scarlet, just like everything around her. She looks up to find his gaze. “You were right, anyway.”

Annika never knew how, but it was he who had convinced her to get them because she was so sensitive in that area. Maybe she just wanted to please him, or maybe he knew that Aegon, even if he didn't admit it, knew her very well. He always knew better when it came to her.

“Have you tried it?” He asks.

“No, not really. I'm afraid it might still get infected. Besides...” She paraphrases, and Aegon lightly strokes the surface of her skin with his fingers. Another shiver runs through her, and she falls silent. “We shouldn't.”

“It's Christmas Eve. We're both alone...” He suggests, brushing the tip of his nose against hers. “I know you don't like being alone on holidays. You always have someone to warm your bed. And your options here are quite limited.”

“You're alone because you want to be alone,” Annika tells him, letting out a sigh. “I might have left, Aegon, but you let me go.”

“And you never tried hard enough either,” Aegon retorts. He pushes her swiftly, standing up and cornering her against the kitchen counter, slipping between her legs hanging from the high stool and placing his arms on the counter on either side of her body. Their breaths mix. “Please, let me do it.”

“I mourned you, Aegon,” Annika reminds him. “It hurt, what you did. How you laughed when that woman at the store mistook us for a couple. How you looked me in the eyes and said that what we had was all in my head. It was humiliating. That's why I left, because you hurt me. And after all that, you blame me for not reaching out for you? How can you say that?”

“I would have hurt you worse if you hadn't left, and you know it,” he says. He doesn't ask for permission either when he delicately strokes the tip of the jewelled nipple with care, and Annika hisses, hypersensitive as ever, melting in his hands. He smiles. “There it is. That’s my sweet girl. My favourite girl.”

She doesn't say anything and covers her mouth when he leans and catches her nipple between his teeth carefully. He knows how she likes it best, and the taste of the soft flesh mixed with the metallic aftertaste it’s exceedingly erotic. It's so intense that she has to close her legs together immediately as she feels that tingling sensation, although his body doesn't allow it. The way she feels stimulated inside and out is almost unbearable, and she unconsciously puts her hand through her shorts because she knows Aegon will spend a while playing with her before even doing anything.

When she tries to ease that discomfort, Aegon grabs her wrist and removes her hand from her shorts. She shivers when she loses contact, but he brings her fingers to his mouth to suck them clean, and Annika breathes heavily.

“Please,” she implores, grabbing him by the neck. He knows she's not asking him to fuck her exactly; she's asking for more. She tiptoes, grabs his cheeks, and tries to make him look into her eyes. “Aegon, please.”

He grunts with difficulty. He shoves his hand inside her shorts, pulls her underwear to a side and, without warning, shoves two fingers in; she's so wet that it offers no resistance.

“Isn't this enough?” He asks, moving the way he knows she likes. Annika opens her mouth and moans against his lips, and through the refrigerator light, he sees her wet eyes and a tear sliding down her cheek. “Why isn't this enough, huh?”

Why am I not enough for you? If I were, maybe we could be.

“I want...”

“No,” he hisses to silence her and prevent her from finishing that sentence. “You want to come on my fingers, that's all. You want my body. And I want yours. That's it.”

No, it's not.

She shakes her head. He doesn't stop, feeling Annika's heart beating against his own chest and how she tightens around his fingers as she struggles to stay still and not make any loud noises.

“I want you,” she tells him, quickly and muffled in a moan, against his lips when she orgasms. Aegon kisses her and swallows the pathetic declaration she utters, holding her with the other hand to feel her close before she goes away forever, but she seems to read his mind. “It's me, Aegon. Me. I'm not going to leave, and I want you. And I want everything from you.”

He wishes he could say yes to her, but he doesn't. He can't do that to Helaena, no matter how much he desires the same. He has to sort out his life first. He's not going to stop drinking. He can't see himself working in his father's company, marrying her, having children. He can't see himself disappointing her over and over when he turns out not to be what she wants.

She wasn't raised for the conventional either. She also has an intense fear of abandonment that would make her do anything for him to stay. This ends in two ways; either she leaves when she realizes she made a mistake and hates herself for letting herself be hurt by him, or she becomes an unknown version that assembles and disassembles for his entertainment.

In both scenarios, he loses her. Physically and emotionally. Two sides of the same coin.

Aemond couldn't stand a relationship of so many years and cheated on Floris. Aemond. The perfect son, Aemond. The perfect boyfriend, Aemond. The gentleman who would propose as soon as he graduated from college, buy an apartment, provide for his family, and have Alicent's first grandchildren...

“Say something,” Annika begs him, pulling him out of the thoughts that have fallen one after the other like a row of dominoes. She clings to him while with the other hand she runs it over his bare torso. He hasn't realized that he no longer feels cold. “Aegon. Anything. Anything, please.”

He can't.

“This is who I am. This is what I can offer you.”

“I'm not a child anymore. I don't want to fly to another country to see each other in secret and act like a couple for two weeks just for you to discard me like trash and go fuck someone else when you’re bored of me.”

He’s never bored of her, though. He just drinks her away. Smokes her away. Fucks her away.

And he knows it's been enough when she sobs.

He puts his hands over hers and separates her from his body. Now he feels the cold of Aspen again. If there was mistletoe above their heads, it's most likely withered. He gives her a kiss on the forehead and wipes away the tears falling down her cheeks.

“I'll leave my door open,” he warns her as he walks toward his room without looking back. But he knows it's useless; Annika won't come.

He leaves her crying in the kitchen, silently, on Christmas Eve. Because that's the kind of person he is. Annika knows. She has always known. She has seen the girls crying in the kitchen before; this time is no different. She has seen the girlfriends he brought on family trips. How he runs them dry. How he breaks their souls.

But Aegon knows that Annika is not like them. He knows that Annika means much more than anyone else. And he knows he can't. He would feel like a bird trapped in a box. He would make her miserable...

He promised to her mother he wouldn’t.

And he knows she deserves something better.

“At least admit it,” she asks him, from the other end of the kitchen when he's about to cross the door. He doesn't turn to look at her. “At least admit that it was real.”

But he leaves nonetheless.

🧣⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⍣ ೋ *ੈ🎄‧₊˚ . *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ೃ࿐🌟

Freya died when Annika was fifteen, and Aegon seventeen. She had been diagnosed with one of those strange and lethal diseases a few months earlier. Aegon couldn't remember the name, but they had told him. He still doesn't know why to this day.

Perhaps because he was the eldest. Because Alicent had pushed him out first, a measly two years before Helaena, and two measly years before Freya gave birth to her daughter. Annika only found out about her mother's illness a month before she passed away. And when it started to get ugly, her parents sent her away. She couldn't be with her when she died, couldn't say goodbye, couldn't ever come to terms with it...

And she never found out that Aegon knew all along.

Alicent had always told him that he had to take care of his younger siblings and, by extension, Annika, who seemed more like a sister to Helaena than he ever was. Annika wiped Helaena’s tears and Annika fought Helaena’s bullies and even Aemond’s at times. Freya said that Annika could take care of herself, but she wouldn't object to having Aegon around. At times, Aegon might have felt that Freya was the only person who still saw him as the golden child and not as the boy who fucked up everything he touched. Freya would entrust Aegon with her most precious possession without a second thought.

But one day, on one of those days when she was pretending to be okay for her daughter's sake, she saw Aegon drinking his third glass of the evening and shook her head. She put a hand on his shoulder and sighed. “I'm not going to ask you to take care of her once I’m gone; it's not your responsibility. But it would hurt me a lot if you were the one who ends up hurting her.”

Two years later, he went off to college and said he wanted nothing to do with that damn debutante ball, but he made the damn mistake of attending anyway.

The rest is a story not fit for Christmas.

🧣⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⍣ ೋ *ੈ🎄‧₊˚ . *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ೃ࿐🌟

The holidays should be a time of love and peace, and yet, in the Targaryen Aspen retreat cabin, the only festive thing is the fact the atmosphere is as bitter as the mistletoe. Helaena, Logan, and Willa, the designated cooks and the only ones who seem to know how to use the stove and microwave, are the ones preparing breakfast. Floris sits on the windowsill, watching as the snow falls heavily and sticking to the ground outside. The noise of the television and the crackling fire is all that can be heard.

Aemond and Daeron play a game of express chess after setting things on the coffee table for breakfast. Aegon watches them while smoking a cigarette inside, much to Helaena's dismay, as he has no desire to step onto the icy exterior.

Annika is the last to appear, wearing those ridiculous fur boots and a pink Chanel sweater with a Camellia logo. Her steps and the sound of the two huge suitcases being dragged down the stairs make everyone look towards the staircase, desperate for someone to break the ice. She shrinks under the attention, very uncharacteristic of her, and Aegon sees Helaena and Floris exchange worried glances.

“What are you doing?” She asks, watching them prepare pancakes for breakfast.

“Breakfast,” Willa says. “Do you want coffee?”

She shakes her head. “No, I don't want coffee. I want to leave. The night has passed. I thought everyone would be ready to leave. Usually, I'm always the last to be ready.”

“You can't leave. The roads are filled with snow that probably no one will clear until after Christmas. There was a storm last night. It's not safe,” Logan reminds her, pointing to the TV where the weatherman urges residents and visitors to stay indoors until further notice. “Even if you could cross the road, there are no flights available.”

Annika smiles and takes off the sunglasses she was wearing. “No, I'll ask my dad to send his pilot, duh. I'm not taking any commercial flights. I wanted to ski for Christmas, and that's what I'm going to do. I'm going to the nearest place with snow and a sauna.”

Daeron and Aemond look at each other, aware that the unpleasant part of Annika is speaking. Something is wrong.

“Well, I don't want to leave. We're here already, we can make it worthwhile,” Hel tells her. Annika rolls her eyes.

“Fine, you stay. Floris?”

She opens her mouth and sighs. “It's not that I want to stay, but flying in these conditions... I don't know. It's only two more days. Maybe even tomorrow we can leave. I'm not going to risk it.”

“Great. I guess it's just me,” Annika grumbles, grabbing her suitcases. “Well, have fun, I suppose. Au revoir. Arrivederci. Goodbye. Chau.”

“I'll go,” Floris says, resigned, and walks behind her. Daeron does the same, and Aegon follows them out of pure curiosity. “Annika, you can't leave!”

“She's right, it's not safe!” Daeron shouts from the door. She has started to drag her suitcases down the stairs with difficulty, the stupid boots slipping on the ice. The car is covered in snow, and it will take her a while to clear it, not to mention that the snow keeps falling.

“Watch me!” She says, reaching the bottom of the stairs with the first suitcase. She holds onto the railing and makes the ascent again, slipping several times. Then she grabs the other suitcase.

“At least let me help you,” Daeron offers. He shakes off the cold and takes Annika's suitcase. She struggles for a moment, insisting she can do it, but he prevails and lifts it.

“Be careful,” Floris says, putting a hand to her mouth. “Annika, would you call when...?”

“Fuck!” Annika yells when she slips down the stairs. Aegon sees her lose balance and fall to her ass, hitting herself several times before reaching the stone path.

If he weren't concerned because he heard her hit her head against a step, he definitely would have burst into laughter. Floris also screams, shocked, and Daeron drops the suitcase in the snow to rush to help her.

“Annika!”

“Daeron, don't throw my suitcase in the damn snow!” She reproaches him, holding her head with one hand.

“Yeah, she’s okay,” Aegon deduces, descending the porch steps carefully. Annika doesn't even acknowledge his existence.

“What happened?” Helaena asks, coming out with the rest through the front door. “Oh, God. Are you alright?”

“I'm fine. I tripped,” she admits, defeated. Daeron and Floris take one of each arm and help her to her feet. When she stands and puts her weight on her feet, she begins to whimper in pain and holds onto both. “Ouch, ouch!”

“What's happening?” Daeron asks.

“My ankle!” She complains. “It hurts, hurts! Oh, God. What if it’s broken? What if I can't walk ever again?”

“Calm down. I don't think it's broken; if it were, you'd be crying,” Logan tells her, quickly descending the stairs. He replaces Floris' grip on one side of her body. “Can you put weight on it?”

“No, it hurts like a son of a bitch. Shit,” Annika moans, and Logan lifts her into his arms to take her back into the house. “Daeron! Bring my suitcases!”

He sighs but obeys. The last thing he wants is to bother her more than she already seems. Everyone enters behind Logan, and he takes her to the living room while Floris cleans the melting snowflakes from her hair.

Logan leaves her on the couch and sits in front of her on the coffee table, resting her foot on his lap. Without asking for permission, he tries to untie the boot, but he doesn't understand much about its operation. He tries to remove it with pressure, but she screams and writhes in pain.

“No, no! Don't do that!” She scolds him. “Damn it. I can't believe it.”

“I don't want to say I told you so, but I told you so,” Floris says, arms crossed. “Those boots are the death of you.”

“Maybe we just need to cut the boot off,” suggests Aemond.

Annika throws a cushion at him for the brutal idea.

“Not the Moschino. No!”

“It's probably just a sprain. But either we cut it off, or I could still trying to take it off and hurt you even more,” Logan tells her.

“I would sacrifice the boot,” Helaena tries to reason. “We can get another pair. You can't get another foot; that's for sure.”

“Kill me. Kill me now,” she says, bringing a cushion to her face and screaming into it. “Fine. Cut them. Kill them. Just do it quickly. I don't want to see.”

Helaena squeezes her shoulder, standing behind the sofa where Annika has put her head on the backrest and taken the cushion to her face. Willa hands Logan a knife, who puts it through the boot and tries to cut the material with considerable difficulty while Annika whimpers. If one were to see the scene from a distance, they would probably think they were cutting off her foot.

When he removes the boot and the thermal sock, everyone analyses the extremely swollen ankle with disgust.

“Is it bad?” She asks, removing the cushion from her face but not daring to speak. Aegon puts it back on her face, wrinkling his nose, but she hits him. “Don't touch me. Logan. Is it really bad?”

“Well...”

She opens her eyes wide. “Oh, my God!”

“Hey, don't worry,” he tries to calm her, patting her knee gently when she starts to cry. “You'll be fine. Painkillers, rest, and lots of ice. Everything will be fine; you'll be walking in—“

“Give it to me,” she reaches out her arms.

“What?” Logan asks, confused.

Aemond lightly hits his arm. “She means the boot.”

“The... The boot?”

Aegon nods. “Yes, she's crying over the boot.”

“It was so beautiful!” She exclaims when Willa hands it to her, and she hugs it with distress. “It's not fair. I bought them on our trip to Milan. They were the last pair. Do you remember, Flo? Do you remember how we were walking, and I saw them in the shop window, and...?”

Logan looks around, not understanding how no one seems surprised or confused by the girl's attitude. It's Daeron who whispers in his ear, “She cries over trivial things to avoid crying about what she really has to cry about. The odds of her being incredibly sore are very high, but she won't admit it.”

“Oh, well,” he scratches his neck, uncomfortable. “Bring her some ice. Try not to put weight on your foot for a while and keep it elevated.”

“Hey, look on the bright side. At least you didn't ruin your cashmere sweater,” Helaena says cheerfully. Willa frowns, observing her pink sweater for a moment.

“I want to go home,” she protests. “Why does everything have to happen to me?”

“It'll be okay. We'll have breakfast so you don't take a painkiller on an empty stomach, and you can try to leave when the swelling goes down,” Logan reassures her, getting up from the table and walking to the kitchen. Then he turns to Floris. “Yeah, she's not going anywhere. Not today, at least.”

Floris bites her lip, a little amused, and shakes her head. “A Christmas Eve to remember,” she says, and then helps everyone set the table for breakfast.

By mid–afternoon, everyone has had a few drinks and taken a dip in the indoor pool. Floris and Aemond maintain an incredibly mature distance, astonishing Aegon as he discusses it with Willa. Daeron seems to have become very friendly with Logan.

Annika didn't want to move, and in a sour mood stayed on the couch watching some stupid Christmas movie.

“They are cute,” Willa says, referring to Helaena and Logan. Her red curls are dripping water, and she holds onto the edge of the pool while sipping a sip of a daiquiri Aegon made for her.

“Whatever,” he says, rolling his eyes.

“Don't you like someone making her laugh? Daeron always says she's a pretty lonely person and has a hard time getting along with others.”

“Aren't we all?” He chuckles. “I guess... It's always us who bring our girlfriends home. I mean, if we don't count the little friend Daeron brought home at seven years old who started crying when he showed her Aemond's snake, and his mother picked her up half an hour later, you would officially be the first girl Daeron brought. And Aemond and Floris have been together forever. And I...”

“Bring a different girl to every gathering?” Willa laughs.

“Yeah, as pathetic as that sounds,” he continues. “The point is, Helaena has never brought anyone else but Annika. She's her person. We got so used to it that now it's weird to see her with someone else. I don't think any of us realized that one day we would meet her partner.”

“It's weird. They seem to have that confidence that makes you think they've known each other forever,” she ponders. “Anyway, it's nice that they get along. She can't be with Annika all the time, I think. Eventually, they'll have to find a significant other.”

He dips his head in the pool to avoid hearing the last words and then emerges, leaning his elbows on the pool's edge, rubbing the water off his eyes.

“And that will be a great day for everyone,” he sighs ironically. Willa inspects him carefully. “What?”

“Nothing,” she shrugs. “I mean... I'm very observant.”

“Yeah, I remember. A very curious little mouse, I told Daeron.”

“When we went to your house in San Francisco, do you remember the day it got really cold, and the airline had lost my luggage?”

“Hm, vaguely.”

“You gave me a sweater to wear while Daeron and I replaced my clothes.”

“I did?”

“Yes. You told me to be careful not to ruin it,” Willa tries to make him remember. “It was a pink cashmere sweater with a Camellia. Like the one Annika's wearing.”

Aegon bites his cheek. He knew he shouldn't lend the clothes Annika had forgotten at his apartment. Man, Annika never lends her clothes. How could he be so stupid?

“Sure... It's… It was mine. We bought it on sale. You know, two for the price of one,” he says, nervously laughing. He’s more worried about Annika finding out he lend her sweater. “It's very soft, much softer than any other fabric. I like wearing it. Yes. And I love pink. I have that sweater at home, and a lot of other pink clothes. I'd show you...”

“Aegon,” she sighs amused. “I'm not going to say anything.”

“You're not going to say anything about what?” He asks, trying not to sound mortified.

“You and Annika,” she murmurs, so only he can hear.

Aegon laughs. “There's no me and Annika.”

“You knew about her piercing, and she looked too worried when you mentioned it, but not surprised. Come on. I think everyone knows; they're just waiting for you two to say it and pretending not to know,” Willa tells him.

“There's nothing to say. It was... Nothing. Just something physical. It didn't mean anything.”

“What didn't mean anything?” Daeron asks, appearing out of nowhere behind Willa and hugging her around the waist. “Is Aegon bothering you?”

“I think I'm bothering him,” she says playfully.

He climbs onto the pool's edge, coming out of the water dripping, and walks to grab a towel without saying a word. After almost completely drying himself, he goes to the living room where Annika watches the Grinch, sitting in the same position they left her, with a blanket over her lap and ice over her head.

“He looks like you,” he tells her, ignoring the fact that he left her crying in the kitchen the night before. He always does that.

“I'm not in the mood,” she says, not moving her eyes from the screen. He peeks behind her and shakes his head to wet her. “Bite me.”

“Aren’t you a delight,” he says, taking a seat next to her. “Are you in pain?”

“No,” she replies, arms crossed and clearly a bit drowsy from the painkillers, without even looking at him.

“I thought we called on a truce.”

“I think we shouldn't talk at all,” she tells him. The indifferent tone stirs something acidic in Aegon's chest, and he squirms with sadness. “Oh, sorry. Was I too harsh?”

“I don't understand why you're angry. I should be angry. You gave me the blue balls. At least you got to finish.”

She looks at him and lets out a laugh. “I can't stand you.”

“Where do you think you're going?” He asks when he sees her trying to get up.

“Far away from you,” she says, being careful not to put weight on her foot. Aegon takes her arm and throws her back on the couch. She lets out a groan and wriggles, trying to escape his grip, but he holds her by the waist and presses her to his chest. “Let me go.”

“There’s something you need to know. Willa knows about us,” he warns, putting his mouth to her ear. She shifts uncomfortably. “It's just a matter of time before everyone finds out.”

“Then you kill her to keep the secret. God forbid someone finds out you touched me, or even looked in my direction.”

“Do you think that's the problem?” He asks, his palm resting on her stomach, lips against her neck. “You think I care if anyone finds out?”

“You made it pretty clear.”

“Do you want me to make you come again in this sofa where anyone could walk in and see us?” He asks, kissing her under the ear as he moves his hand from her navel to her centre. “You might understand that’s not what I’m worrying about, then.”

Annika hits his hand off and lets go of his grip. “No. I want you to leave. I'm serious. I don't want you to talk to me, look at me, or breathe in my direction. I don't want you near.”

He smiles crookedly. “Definitely harsh.”

“Go away. I can't go up the stairs, so I'm asking you to leave.”

She leans back against the backrest and covers herself with the blanket, resting her cheek on her hand. Aegon sighs in defeat. He’s not used to being rejected by her, if she ever got complicated usually some sweet talking and his fingers worked like charm to remedy her.

“Annika...”

“I don't want to hear your pathetic excuses,” she says. “You can take your blue balls and shove them in the snow as far as I’m concerned. And if you feel lonely, you have two hands.”

He looks at his hands.

It would hurt me a lot if you hurt her.

If he stays, he'll hurt her. If he leaves, he'll hurt her.

Freya was wrong. His mother, too. He can’t take care of her.

“Can I stay here and watch the movie at least?” He sighs, noticeably tired. She looks at him sideways and doesn't answer, but gives him a piece of her blanket. He settles a bit closer to her and curls up in his place, feeling a bit cold. “Do you want something to drink?”

“I want you to shut up.”

He nods. “Okay. Deal. I'll shut up.”

But he can't. He glances at her certain times, focused on the movie and looking as unhappy as ever. He clicks his tongue.

“You know...”

“No. I don't want to know.”

“Fine,” he nods again. Moves his leg frantically and manages to keep quiet for two full minutes. “But, if you think about it...”

Annika puts the TV on mute and turns to look at him. He stays silent when those green eyes haunt him. “It was real. It wasn't a waste of time. I wasn't just another one of your girls. It was different. It always has been. You were there, and it was real.”

“Of course, it wasn't a waste of time,” he starts saying. Freya's voice drills into his head. It would hurt me a lot if you hurt her. “And it was real.”

“And why don't you admit it?”

“What do you want me to admit?” He sighs, tired, and rests his cheek on the back of the sofa. Silver hair wets the green fabric, but he doesn't care.

“That you want me.”

“I can show you how hard I am so that –“

“That you love me,” she corrects.

He tries to escape, almost panicked, but she takes his cheeks and forces him to look at her. Her eyes are hypnotic. Her cheeks. Her skin. Her hair. The nose and eyelids reddened from crying so much because of him.

Of course, he does.

She's so close that their lips almost touch. He has leaned over her, because he does love her. Because she's right. And she no longer wants to run away... But he can't say it. However, he finds another way to be honest.

“I knew when your mother got sick,” he says, delicate as if confessing a sin. “I always knew. And she told me I shouldn't take care of you because you could take care of yourself, but that the idea of me hurting you would sadden her. I can’t do that to her.”

She leans back even though he tries to kiss her. She moves back so much that it cuts through his chest.

“What?” She gasps, not understanding. “What... What are you talking about? What does that even mean?”

And there's more. And there's so much you don't know. Because I've loved you since we were kids. Because I've taken care of you since we were kids. You don't have the right to treat me like a villain. I've always taken care of you. This time is no different.

“Aegon,” she calls him, in a sob. But he doesn't react, so she hits him in the chest. “Are you fucking kidding me? Why would you say something like that? Why would you even –“

“Because it's the truth. You wanted to know the truth. There it is,” he says. “We can't be together, Annika. I've learned to live with that, and you should too.”

🧣⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⍣ ೋ *ੈ🎄‧₊˚ . *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ೃ࿐🌟

Floris pours herself a glass of water while Aemond looks at her with a dangerously careful gaze. He has always been tough, since they were kids, and it worsened after the incident with his eye. The sapphire only makes him appear tougher, ruthless, even.

But Floris cannot see anything other than his good side. His heart. The way he cares about his family, even Annika, with whom he always had a somewhat distant relationship. He cares.

That's why it was strange when she found him with their professor. It wasn't strange to have packed her things and taken the next flight to move from one state to another in less than six hours though.

He didn't object.

It's the first time they see each other, and there's a lot to say. He sent her things, and everyone moved on. She doesn't know what happened to the apartment or that damn snake of his that wouldn't let her have a puppy because it might eat it.

“Floris,” he finally calls her. She can't look at him. She can't see the person who cares and matters to her, who would never have hurt her. It's a different person standing beside her. “Please, look at me. We need to talk.”

She shakes her head. “We don't need to talk.”

“We need to clear things up.”

She smiles ironically. “What do you want to clarify? You slept with a teacher multiple times over these past few years and brought her to my house, to my bed. Do you have a valid reason? Other than the fact that you obviously no longer love me?”

Aemond weighs it for a moment. And then nods.

“I do love you.”

She laughs. “Sure.”

“You're my best friend. The best I've ever had in my life.”

“And then? Why did you do this to me?” She asks. There's no anger in her tone, as if the anger had dissipated after the exhaustive conversation with Annika, who she covered in snot and vomit. It's curiosity, no more, no less. It's intrigue.

“It has nothing to do with you.”

“I know I have my issues, but I firmly believe I've never done anything to hurt you. Not intentionally at least. I haven't been a bad girlfriend or a bad friend either. So, I ask you again, if you love me, why did you do this to me?”

“Because I love you,” he nods. “It's easy for me to love you, Flo. It's warm, and you feel like home to me. But I'm not a kid anymore, and neither are you. Adults have to leave their homes to create their own paths.”

Her eyes fill with tears. “I thought we were happy.”

“We were. I am. And I really don't want to lose you... But I cannot keep doing this,” he sighs, and gently takes her hand. “I'm sorry. It was stupid. And I don't think you can forgive me, but...”

“You're right, I can't,” she tells him, sniffing. “You should have told me what you felt when you felt it. You shouldn’t have let me waste all this past years. We could have found a solution; we did when, you know… Or we could have... –“

“Flo, there was nothing else to do. We tried everything,” Aemond tells her, a bit firmer now. “You don't love me in that way either. I know you, and I'm sorry. I've felt this distance between us for a while. You're not happy in Boston. You're happier with Annika and Helaena in New York. You would be happier if you had a dog instead of a snake. You would be happy if you explored a bit of who you are and what you want to be besides me.”

She sobs. “How am I supposed to go on after this?”

Aemond knows she might not, but maybe, after all, it's the only way for her to understand that between them, there's nothing but the love they've outgrown. Childish, puppy love.

“I'm sorry. It was stupid. And I'm not even seeing her. I guess I needed a getaway car, and that's the one I found... I guess you'll have to be the better person here and forgive me. It will take time, but I hope you know that I really mean it when I say I regret what I did to yoy.”

Floris clicks her tongue and rubs her face with her hands. “Well, you never apologized for anything. So I guess you are saying the truth. But it only makes me feel worse because this means you screwed up big time and you’re aware of it.”

He lets out a little laugh and leans in to kiss her on the forehead. “You taught me a lot. More than anyone else in my life. You gave me everything you could, and it's time for both of us to move on with what we taught to each other. When you're ready, when you're at peace... I hope I can be your friend again. Because I can't bear the thought of you not being in my life anymore.”

She understands what he means. Not in a romantic way, but they know each other too well. No one will ever know him so much, and vice versa. No one will ever live what they lived together.

“I’m always gonna love you,” she confesses. Again, not in a romantic way, but there's no need to clarify that.

Aemond tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m always gonna love you, too.”

“I need time. A lot. When I go back to New York, I'm going to transfer a university there. I fell behind a bit, but I'll catch up. I'll go to therapy, and I'll learn to forgive you. But I don't want to see you for a while.”

It hurts him almost as much as the pain that sometimes paralyzes half of his face.

But he knows he deserves it.

“You'll be fine,” he tells her. “You were always… Resilient. More so than me.”

“I know,” Flo smiles. “I’ll be fine. I got my girls with me.”

[bullet-prooflove]

3 Times Sabatino Thought About Proposing and the 1 Time He Did - Part Four: Cake - Vostanik Sabatino x Reader (feat: Nina Barnes)

Tagging: @kmc1989 @words-and-seeds @novamariestark @whateversomethingbruh @trublu2u @stelacole @@elixae

Part One: Adjustment Period - Nik decides it's time to propose.

Part Two: Sassy - Nik's plans to propose are thwarted by your sister Sassy.

Part Three: Love Language - Nik loses the ring during a footchase.

Sabatino decides to call it quits on the proposal. It’s clear to him at this point that it’s not the right time, that the universe keeps throwing up obstacles for a reason. All he wants is for it to be special for you, but he keeps just fucking it up. The pressure is stressing him out and it’s starting to affect the relationship. You can tell he’s hiding something from you and the fact he refuses to discuss it creates an issue. There’s always been things he hasn’t been able to tell you, you accept that, but this is different.

The pause will hopefully give him a little breathing room.

Things go back to normal; he lives in the present instead of being preoccupied with the future. He starts to have fun again, exist in the moment. The two of you spend the weekend taking some time to reacquaint with each other. His job’s been a little manic and you’ve been working a case with the FBI, you’ve barely existed in the same space over the past couple of weeks. He spends Saturday morning in bed with you, his hands chasing over your skin as he makes love to you in freshly laundered sheets. After dinner you go for a walk on the beach because you’re craving sweet and he’s thinking ice cream.

He lives for moments like this, strolling down the boardwalk, his fingers entwined with yours. There weren’t many of them when he was working for the CIA, now he treasures every single one.

The sun is setting when you come across Nina’s cupcake truck. Your eyes light up, and ice cream is completely forgotten because he knows how much you love her Red Velvet cupcakes and she only has one left. He leaves you sitting on a bench, watching the ocean roll up on the shore. He knows you find it soothing, the crash of the waves, the motion of the water.

“A little bird tells me you’re planning on locking that down.” Nina says, gesturing towards you when he orders the cupcakes.

“I was.” Sabatino tells her as he hands over the cash. “But the universe had other plans, so here we are.”

“You got in your own head.” Nina says knowingly as she opens up two individual cake boxes.

“There’s a lot of pressure to get it right you know?” He explains, his palm running over the nape of his neck. "It was causing a few issues between the two of us, so I shut it down."

Nina rests her elbows on the counter before leaning forward.

“Maybe it’s for the best.” She says with a shrug before picking up an icing bag and tilting the red velvet cupcake towards her. “I mean you’re already falling down at the first hurdle.”

“First hurdle?” He repeats with a bitter laugh. “Trust me, there have been plenty of hurdles and we’ve cleared every single one of them.”

“Uh huh.” She says as she surveys her work on the cupcake. “Then this little one should be no problem.”

She shows him the cupcake and his gaze flickers up to her in disbelief when he reads the words ‘Marry Me.”

“Are you serious?” He asks her, his hands on his hips.

“It’s cute right?” She says before putting it away into its own box. “And it’s perfect for her. She’s low maintenance and this is something a little bit special. Not too showy but personalised. Even you can’t fuck it up.”

He hates to say it but she’s right. He couldn’t have chosen a more perfect moment. The tide is coming in, the waves creeping up the shore and the light is just sublime, that cascade of colours illuminating the beach.

“What do I owe you?” He asks her, taking the box begrudgingly.

“I get to make the cake for your wedding.” She barters with him.

He gives her a look before he crosses his arms over his chest and sighs.

“Fine, if she says yes, then you get to make the cake.” He agrees before pointing his finger at her. “But if she says no, I get free cupcakes for life.”

“Yea that’s not happening.” She tells him, shaking her head. “If she says no, you get a pity cupcake, this one time and that’s it.”

“Deal.” He agrees before turning his back on Nina and focusing his attention on more important things.

You rise to your feet when he appears alongside of you, the individual cupcake box in his hand. You smile as you take it from him. That smile, it lights up his entire world and he knows that this is it, this is his moment.

He has the ring in his hand when you open the box, he watches as you study the writing before you tilt your head towards him.

“Nik…”

He doesn’t get down on one knee. It’s not your dynamic. Your partnership has always been based on mutual respect, meeting your challenges face to face and that’s how he intends to do this. He takes your hand in his, the ring clasped tightly between his fingers.

“Alana, I have loved you since that day you showed up in Afghanistan and every day, I loved you more. I want to grow old with you, start a family with you, I want…” He pauses for a moment, his voice rough as he struggles to find the words. “I want you to be my wife. So, I’m just a boy standing in front of a girl with a cupcake, asking her to marry me.”

You laugh and it’s such a rich, beautiful sound. He hopes he gets to spend the rest of his life hearing it.

“Yes Nik.” You say as he slips the ring onto your finger. “Of course, I’ll be your wife.”

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[coquitokisses]

Trusting Again | chapter 001: the accords

Word count: 1953

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— 2016 —

After the whole situation in Lagos, we're finally back at the compound. I'm currently in the kitchen with Vision attempting to bake cupcakes for Wanda, we've been trying to make her feel better with absolutely everything. And we've kinda.. failed. She hasn't left her room.

"Are they burning?" Vision asked while looking into the oven

"I don't think so." I stood beside him and looked too

"And you're sure it said 20 minutes?"

I turned to look at him. "Aren't you the one who's supposed to know?"

"But you were the one reading the recipe from the internet, miss Cat."

"They're gonna turn out fine, don't worry." I said walking over to the fridge and I took out the three different colored frostings we bought earlier. "Pink, white or red?"

"Definitely red, that's her color." He said

"It sure is."

I took out the red frosting and I left it on the counter as I looked for the little piping bags we also bought, we prepared for this shit like it was some sort of project.

"This is rock hard, Cat." he said as he touched how hard, and also cold, the frosting was

"Well yeah, it was in the fridge, we have to heat it up a little bit." I said grabbing the frosting "Hey, what do you think if we do some..."

I was cut off by the door opening and then Tony appeared.

"Something is definitely burning." he said walking towards the kitchen

"I thought you were gonna be at that speech thing you had." I told him

"Well, I was and now it's over" he said "And we have company, Cakelina, so behave."

I was gonna talk again but I saw Secretary Ross come in and Vision and I just stood there kinda confused.

"Should we tell Captain Rogers?"

"Yeah." I said

Well this will be interesting. Vision left the kitchen and I put the frosting back in the fridge, I turned off the oven and then when Steve and Wanda came down, we all walked over to the conference room. And by all I mean all of us.

"What the hell is happening?" Sam whispered sitting next to me

"I don't know." I sighed leaning back on my chair

When we were all sat down, Secretary Ross started talking.

"The world owes the Avengers an unpayable debt." he said looking at us "You have fought for us, protected us, risked your lives.. but while a great many people see you as "heroes" there are some who would prefer the word "vigilantes""

"And what word would you use, Mr. Secretary?" I asked him

"How about "dangerous"?" He replied "What would you call a group of US based, enhanced individuals who routinely ignore sovereign borders and inflict their will wherever they choose and who, frankly, seem unconcerned about what they leave behind?"

None of us said a single thing. He moved to the side and turned on the tv behind him showing some pictures and evidence about the events from the last 4 years. He showed from the New York attack when Loki came to the last event that was in Lagos yesterday. Wanda immediately stopped looking at the tv and turned her chair.

"Okay, that's enough." Steve said

Secretary Ross looked over at the man that was with him before he talked again.

"For the past 4 years you've operated with unlimited power and no supervision, that's an arrangement the governments of the world can no longer tolerate" he started saying "But I think we have a solution."

The other man gave him like a book and he then put it on the table.

"The Sokovia Accords, approved by 117 countries it states that The Avengers shall no longer be a private organization, instead they'll operate under the supervision of a United Nations panel only when and if that panel deems it necessary." he explained

"The Avengers were formed to make the world a safer place." Steve was the first one to talk "I feel we've done that."

"Tell me Captain, do you know where Thor and Banner are right now?" Ross said and Steve looked at him not responding

Thor is not even from earth, let's start there. He doesn't even live with us in the compound.

"If I misplaced a couple of 30 megaton nukes you can bet there'd be consequences." he said "Compromise, reassurance, that's how the world works, believe me this is the middle ground." he pointed at the Accords

"So, there are contingencies." Rhodey said

"Three days from now the UN meets in Vienna to ratify the Accords, talk it over." Ross said as he started to walk away

"And if we come to a decision you don't like?" Natasha asked him

"Then you retire" he said before walking out

"Well this was fun." I looked at Sam

"Tell me about it." he rolled his eyes

We then went to the living room.. and the bickering started. Steve talked and Rhodey talked and Natasha talked too. And I'm just waiting for them to shut the hell up so we can all agree that we are not signing this.. thing.

"Secretary Ross has a Congressional Medal of Honor which is one more than you have." Rhodey said to Sam

"So let's say we agree to this thing, how long is it gonna be before they LoJack us like a bunch of common criminals?" Sam responded

"117 countries wanna sign this, 117, Sam and you're just like "no, that's cool, we got it" " Rhodey said

"How long are you gonna play both sides?" Sam looked at him

"You need to chill" I told them "Both of you."

"You've been awfully quiet since Secretary Ross left, you're okay with this too?" Sam pointed at the Accords while looking at me

"I'm literally just waiting for you guys to stop bickering like kids so we can all come up with a decision here" I said "As a team."

"You haven't said anything, literally anything."

"Well I think this is complete bullshit." I rolled my eyes

"See?" Sam looked at Rhodey

"I have an equation." Vision spoke

"Oh, this will clear it up." Sam said

"In the eight years that Mr. Stark announced himself as Iron Man, the number of known enhanced persons has grown exponentially." he said "During the same period the number of potentially world-ending events has risen at a commensurate rate."

"Are you saying it's our fault?" Steve looked at him

"I'm saying there may be a causality." Vision responded "Our very strength invites challenge, challenge incites conflict and conflict breeds catastrophe." he said "Oversight is not an idea that can be dismissed out of hand."

"Boom" Rhodey looked at Sam

"Tony, you're being uncharacteristically non-hyper verbal." Natasha looked at Tony

"That's because he's already made up his mind." Steve said

"Boy you know me so well" Tony said before standing up "Actually I'm nursing an electromagnetic headache, that's what's going on, Cap, it's just pain" he walked over to the kitchen "it's discomfort.. who's putting coffee grounds in the disposal? Am I running a bed and breakfast for a biker gang?" he looked at us

That might've been Sam tho.

Tony took his phone out of his pocket and placed it on a little basket on the counter and he showed us a picture of a young looking man. He then started telling us who he was and how he died in Sokovia.

"There's no decision-making process here" he started saying "we need to be put in check, whatever form that takes, I'm game" he shrugged "If we can't accept limitations, if we're boundary-less we're no better that the bad guys."

"Tony, someone dies on your watch, you don't give up." Steve said

"Who said we're giving up?"

"We are if we're not taking responsibility for our actions, this document just shifts the blame."

"I'm sorry, Steve, that is dangerously arrogant." Rhodey spoke "This is the United Nations we're talking about, it's not the World Security Council, it's not SHIELD, it's not HYDRA."

"No, but it's run by people with agendas and agendas change." Steve replied

"That's good, that's why I'm here" Tony said "When I realized what my weapons were capable of in the wrong hands, I shut it down and stopped manufacturing."

"Tony, you chose to do that, if we sign this we surrender our right to choose." Steve told him "What if this panel sends us somewhere where we don't think we should go? What if there is somewhere we need to go and they don't let us?" he said "We may not be perfect but the safest hands are still our own."

"If we don't do this now it's gonna be done to us later, that's the fact" Tony said "that won't be pretty."

"You're saying they'll come for me." Wanda spoke

"No, don't say that." I grabbed her hand "You'll be fine."

"We would protect you." Vision told her

"Maybe Tony's right" Natasha said and we all looked at her literally shocked "If we have one hand on the wheel we can still steer, if we take it off..."

"I'm sorry, babe, but that's a little hypocritical coming from you" I cut her off "Aren't you the same woman who told the government to kiss her ass a few years ago?"

"I'm just.. I'm reading the terrain" she looked at me and then looked over at the guys again "We have made some very public mistakes, we need to win their trust back."

"Focus up, I'm sorry, did I just mishear or did you agree with me?" Tony said to her

"I wanna take it back now." Natasha said

"Oh no, honey, you can't retract it" I chuckled "You know how he is."

"Even Catie knows it." He pointed at me

I immediately scrunched my nose in disgust. "Ugh, don't call me Catie, you know I don't like it."

"But Catie suits you."

"No it doesn't." I shook my head

"No it doesn't, Tony, look at her face!" Nat said

"Cat is a hideous nickname, by the way." Tony said and Nat and I just bursted out laughing

"Look who's talking! Tony is the most basic nickname and it also makes you look kinda hispanic."

Tony gasped. "That's racist." He pointed at me and I just rolled my eyes laughing

"I have to go." Steve spoke as he stood up from his seat

He left the room and Nat and I looked at each other kinda confused.

"So.. is the meeting over now?" I asked

"Well I suppose." Tony shrugged

I nodded and then I realized that I left the cupcakes in the oven. "Shit.." I stood up from the chair "The cupcakes."

I quickly walked out of the room and immediately went to the kitchen, yes, I know I turned off the oven, but still.

As I walked there, I bumped into Steve.

"Hey, is everything okay?" I asked by the way he sprinted out of the living room

"Yeah.. well no, not exactly." He replied letting out a sigh

"What's going on?"

"Peggy passed away."

"Oh my god.. I'm so sorry, Steve."

"The funeral's in three days, in London."

"You want some company?" I asked

"Don't worry about it, I'll be fine."

"You sure? You know you don't have to do this alone."

He was about to talk, but was interrupted by Sam. "And he won't."

We both turned around to see him walking towards us.

"When are we leaving?" He asked putting one of his arms over my shoulders

"Seriously guys, you don't have to." Steve said

"We know." I shrugged "But we want to."

He gave us a small smile. "Thanks, guys."

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[staylovesmiley]

Going Dumb~ Chapter 6

ᯓᡣ𐭩Pairing; Kim Seungmin x Fem!reader

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ᯓᡣ𐭩Summary; It had been over a decade since you had last seen each other, having met in choir when Seungmin was living with his grandparents in LA and you with your Aunt. Now that you are both presented adults, how will he handle a change to the reality of you he had made in his mind in your absence over the years?

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ᯓᡣ𐭩 ᯓᡣ𐭩 Notes; This is an ABO!AU. in this world when someone reaches puberty they will present with one of three sub genders; alpha, beta, or omega. Due to Alphas and Omegas experiencing rut and heat, some jobs are restrictive as to what sub genders they will hire, specifically singling out omegas as heat suppressants are harder to obtain than rut suppressants. Scent glands are located near the pressure points on the neck and small hormonal patches called scent blockers can be placed over them to reduce or rid an individual of their scent for a period of time depending on the strength of the hormones in the patch.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ᯓᡣ𐭩 ᯓᡣ𐭩ᯓᡣ𐭩Warnings; abo!au, beta!kim seungmin, almost all alpha!straykids, female!reader, poly!pack dynamics, angst, mild violence, mentions of sexual harassment/assault and discrimination, smut, enemies to lovers, Kim seungmin is kind of an ass I’m so sorry dandy boy, she/her pronouns used for reader, jealous seungmin, I have only ever wrote one abo story before but it is one of my favorite genres so I hope I can do this justice~

You weren’t sure how long you had been asleep for. Your body ached as if you had been asleep for days, or hit by a bus, you thought to yourself as you rubbed the palms of your hands against your eyes with a groan before stretching out your tired muscles with a little sound of pain at the tension in them releasing slightly with the movement.

After Seungmin had left you alone in his room to change next door inside Felix room, you sat for a few moments as you blinked in confusion at the slight smile he had left with. What had that meant? Why was he smiling after you had chewed him out for trying to get you to stop apologizing, for belittling all he was doing to help you and passing it off as if it wasn’t that big of a deal all the effort he seemed to be putting in to make you comfortable after what had happened.

You had changed into the clothes he had given you and once you were dressed and sitting on the bed the exhaustion of the day had fully caught back up and with the beta’s comforting scent surrounding you like a security blanket you couldn’t help but feel your eyelids getting heavy. You barely registered someone coming in and pulling the comforter over you as you drifted off, mind going into a completely dreamless state as you fell into one of the heaviest and deepest sleeps you had since probably your early childhood.

You didn’t know what you expected when you finally sat up on the bed and took in your surroundings, but it was not the sight that awaited you.

Curled up on the floor with a spare pillow and quilt from the bedroom down the hall, slept the beta whose room you were currently in. Somehow you had expected him to stay in one of the others rooms, or maybe the spare room itself. Instead he was there on the floor, soft snores slipping from him as he was a bit sprawled out on his back with the blankets tangled around his limbs.

A soft giggle escaped your lips at the sight, and slowly you slipped out of bed and kneeled on the floor beside his sleeping form. With a glance at the clock on the beside table you saw that it was still relatively early in the morning but with you haven’t fallen asleep in the early evening the day before it didn’t surprise you that you woke up earlier than you normally would.

Carefully, you pulled the comforter around Seungmin so that he was a bit more covered from the AC causing the room to be a bit chilly. You made your way out into the hall, heading for the kitchen to find something to eat as you had slept through what would have been dinner the night before and you could feel your stomach ache slightly from the missed meal.

Sat at the kitchen table, almost as if sensing you had woken up and now lay waiting like a predator waiting patiently for his prey, Lee Minho sipped calmly at the warm cup of coffee in his hands. “Bunny, good morning. Sit.” He motioned for you to take the seat at the other end of the table facing him, and you took a deep shaky breath before doing as he had instructed.

His normally calming aura only seemed to set you on edge as you knew he was probably wanting to discuss something having to do with the events the day previous. Once sat, the alpha rose and busied himself in the kitchen for a moment before returning and setting a steaming bowl of some soup with rice noodles on the place mat in front of you. You blinked a few times while looking between the bowl and the older man, only receiving a warm smile and a kiss to the top of your head before he moved to reclaim his seat at the other end of the table.

You stared at him for a bit, whispering a quiet thank you before beginning to eat whatever it was he had prepared for you. “Once you’re finished eating I want you to go get dressed and come with the maknaes and me to the police station.” He said, finishing his coffee and setting the empty mug in the sink before passing you on his way out of the room. Fuck. You should have known that was coming.

True to his word, Minho had woken up both Seungmin and Jeongin and told them the same as he had told you. While the members ate their own breakfast you looked through your suitcases which were once again in the spare bedroom though the thought of having to take off the clothes that smelled so comforting to you made your stomach turn so you settled for just adding on a sports bra under the baggy tshirt of Seungmin’s you wore before picking one of your own oversized hoodies and pulling it on over to keep yourself warm against the chilly winter morning air.

By the time you had rejoined the three of them in the kitchen they were finished eating and already waiting for you to return. You looked at them blankly, unsure how to feel as Minho have you a soft look that showed he knew this was hard for you but necessary so that a report could be made and hopefully no one else would encounter the same brutality you had at the hands of your attackers. You gave him a small, forced smile that made his heart ache before he reached out and pulled you to him in a gentle embrace.

The warm smell of caramel you had come to be familiar with surrounded you as the alpha lightly scented you before you left the apartment. Your scent glands were still extremely sensitive and so blockers were out of the question, so this was his solution to the unspoken problem and it made a genuine smile fall upon your features as he pulled away. “Thanks, Min….” You said just above a whisper and he nodded in return. “Let’s get going then, yeah?”

With that, the four of you went down to the garage and piled into the older alpha’s car to head to the police station and file a formal report against the individuals who had attacked you.

Filing the report was more exhausting than you originally had dreaded. For hours you went between waiting in the halls with the boys to begin separated into different interview rooms so they could get each of your stories about what had happened. A female officer came in at one point and photographed all injuries your two colleagues had left during the attack, and even though you had already showered they urged you to go to the hospital so if there was any evidence it could be collected as well as any medications needed to fight against infections could be administered.

By the time you were sat in the hospital bed with Jeongin and Seungmin sat in the chairs against the wall of the room, Minho talking with the nurse at the front desk about how much longer this process would take as you had already been put through so much and it was now approaching noon even though you had started this whole process in the early hours of the morning. It was almost 24 hours since the attack and an unsettling numbness had settled over you that put the young alpha and beta in the room with you on edge.

Just as Minho walked back in the room, all eyes but yours turned to look at him questioningly. “We can leave within the hour, they said they just need to make sure you don’t have any negative reactions to the medication they gave you and we can go home.” The news that you’d be able to rest soon caused relief to wash over you in such a strong wave tears began spill down your cheeks and a soft sob escaped your lips.

The sounds of your cries caused the two youngest members to shoot up from their seats and come to the edge of the bed yet they were unsure what to do. At their mild panic you laughed a bit, shaking your head. “I’m okay I’m fine….just happy this is almost over.”

Minho smiled at that and came over to place a soft kiss on your temple as he smoothed over your hair gently. “Mhm, almost over and then I’ll make you all some lunch when we get back. It’s already been a long day and you all did good. I’m proud of all of you.” His words caused another sob to escape your lips and the two boys on the other end of the bed began tearing up as well but quickly pulled themselves together as the nurses returned to take out your IVs and prepare you for discharge.

Back at the dorm, Jeongin pulled you to sit with him on the couch while Minho got started on making the lunch he had promised you all.

Seungmin went back to his room for a bit and reemerge with the comforters both off of the floor from the spare room that he had been using as well as the one from his bed and he sat on the couch with the two of you before piling the blankets on top of all of you.

You smiled softly, snuggling up to the youngest and mouthing a thanks to Seungmin where he sat on the opposite side of the alpha. Something random was put on the tv and before you knew it you had fallen asleep with your head resting on the youngest’s shoulder.

Jeongin looked from you to Seungmin before smiling softly. “You know I usually don’t like this kinda thing but….after everything we just got through with this feels very nice.” The beta nodded, using the opportunity to cuddle up to the alpha as well. “Yeah I know what you mean….I can only imagine how she’s feeling if I feel this drained-“

The two made a silent agreement to let you rest, watching whatever had been put on the tv while you slept against the youngest and Minho continued to make them all lunch in the kitchen behind them.

After the events of yesterday, Chan had made several calls and got them all the day off to make sure that you were okay as well as to give them time to go report everything to the police. Unbeknownst to you, the leader was keeping up to date with everything through constant messaging with the second oldest. The alpha smiled when he went to go and retrieve the three of you for lunch, taking a quick photo of you all snuggled up on the couch and sending it to Bangchan before gently rubbing your arm causing you to jolt awake.

“Morning, cutie. Come and eat something, yeah? Then you can go back to sleep I promise.” You nodded to the alpha and slowly made your way to the kitchen table where he had laid out the food he had made for the four of you. It was only you, Minho, and the youngest two members as Changbin had slept in before going to the gym, and the 00 liners minus Seungmin had decided to go out for lunch to give you some time to relax after everything.

As you began digging into whatever it was the older had put together for you, another noodle dish though this one wasn’t in a soup, Chan arrived back from the company and gave a warm greeting to the lot of you before taking the empty seat beside Jeongin where Minho placed yet another plate of food. “Thanks Min, didn’t get a chance to grab something to eat before coming back.”

The alpha nodded back before taking his seat across from where you and Seungmin sat and began eating his own food. The meal was mostly enjoyed in silence, the now five of you choosing to stuff your faces over creating small talk.

Once everyone had finished up the two youngest began cleaning up and as you moved to join them, Chan reached out and placed a hand on your forearm. “Actually Bunny, I need to talk with you about something kind of important if you don’t mind joining me in my room?” Your eyes widened a bit, curiosity flooding your mind as you wondered what exactly he would want to talk with you about out of earshot of the others.

Minho gave the oldest a look, confusion laced in his expression but the leader only shook his head at him as if to tell him it wasn’t to be discussed at that time with him. You took a deep breath before nodded and rising up from your seat. “Yeah sure…” Chan gave you a warm smile to let you know that all was well, gently taking hold of your hand before leading you out of the dining room and down the hall to his room.

Once inside the smell of the ocean crashed over you and you felt like you had just stepped foot on the beach on a warm summers day, minus the sand of course. The alpha motioned for you to take a seat on the bed and you did so, starting to feel nerves bubbling in your stomach with the anticipation of what he had to talk with you about.

Chan closed the door behind him and pulled the chair from his desk over to sit in front of where you were on the bed. “So- I’m just gonna cut to the chase and say that you aren’t going back to that school. Ever.” You blinked a few times, brows furrowing a bit as you contemplated arguing that he wasn’t allowed to tell you what you could and could not do. He wasn’t your alpha and this wasn’t your pack. But after a moment you realized you didn’t even want to go back to that place after everything so you only let out a soft huff and crossed your arms over your chest.

“You say that as if I was planning to. Though I don’t really have another job lined up at the moment-“ before you could finish she alpha perked up and he cut you off. “Actually that’s what I really wanted to talk to you about. The thing about you not going there was kinda a given I was just trying to lead into the news but-“ it was your turn to cut him off as confusion was etched onto your face. “News? What news?”

Bangchan beamed, scooting the chair closer to take both of your hands into his. “I have a job for you. I was at the company today in a meeting I had called specifically to make sure this was okay so everything could be set to go for you….if you want it.” You stared at him with wide eyes, mouth slightly ajar as you thought of what to say. “Chan you didn’t have to do that- I can find a job on my own you don’t have to bend over backwards for me.” Guilt washed over you as you thought of all the trouble he must have gone through and how much of a burden it must have been. Your brain tried to tell you this is exactly what Seungmin was afraid of and that he was right but the older could see this and shook his head.

“Bunny- stop thinking so hard, okay? It’s nothing, really….it’s a job. You’d be working, helping. I didn’t have to do any bending over backwards.” The alpha gave your hands a light squeeze. “Besides I don’t think the Mins would let you out of their sight any time soon to go to another job especially at another school.” You huffed out a laugh at that, finding the term he used for Minho and Seungmin silly but somewhat endearing. You stared into his eyes, searching for something to tell you that he was just being polite but you saw nothing but sincerity there.

“What’s…um- what’s the job?” Bangchan smirked slightly, raising an eyebrow at you. “Does this mean you accept?” You shook your head, rolling your eyes at him playfully. “Just wanna know what I would be getting myself into before I give you an answer.” You teased him and caused the alpha to let out a laugh. “I want you to be our assistant. The pay would be decent, probably more than you made teaching, and I’d want you to live here with us full time.” It wasn’t as if he was going to insist you still live with them even if you turned the job down but it was worth mentioning as part of the job requirements.

You thought for a bit, head tilting to the side. “Your assistant…what would that even mean in the way of a job description? What would my responsibilities be?” Chan smiled, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “Kind of like a manager, but more hands on. You’d need to be with us at our schedules and the company, just helping us with small tasks like our managers usually do but this would free them up to actually manage our schedules. You can also help me with translating for the members when we are at events overseas.”

The job sounded simple enough, though in the short time you knew them you knew things could get chaotic sometimes. After some thinking, the alpha sitting there eagerly awaiting your reply as he still held your hands in his. “Okay. I’ll accept- partly because I do need a job sooner rather than later but also because I trust you.”

Chan nodded, unable to hide his joy that you had accepted his offer. He had been preparing you to turn it down, and what he would need to say to try and convince you to stay there with them anyways for the sake of his and the member’s sanity as after recent events they were a bit on edge about your safety and the best way to ensure that was to be with you as much as possible.

After talking over some more details with the alpha the two of you left his room, seeing that the other members had returned home and were lounging in the living room either scrolling on their phones or watching some drama Han had put on the tv. All eyes fell on the pair of you expectantly, some just curious about why you had gone to speak with their leader and others because they knew what it was you had gone to discuss.

“Kids, say hello to our new assistant!” Bangchan said cheerfully as he gave you a gentle push forward. With a little wave, you looked around at the faces staring back at you nervously. “Guess I’m gonna be around a lot more than before…I hope that’s okay-“ you found Seungmin’s eyes and gave an apologetic look but the beta simply stood up and made his way over to you. “You don’t have to ask that, of course it’s okay…I know what I said before when you first got here but I was wrong.”

You opened your mouth to speak but he shook his head. “I’m glad you’re here. Things will be a lot easier with you helping us. Plus, there is way too much alpha energy in this group it’ll be nice to have more balance.” He said with a teasing smile causing you to laugh lightly. “Don’t I also have this supposed alpha energy according to you?”

Seungmin looked down at his feet shyly before scratching at his head. “Well yes but- it’s different, okay? Just trust me- I’m glad you said yes to Chan hyung’s job offer.” You smiled, shaking your head at his shyness. “Me too, Minnie.”

The rest of the evening went by quickly, the pack and you lazing around watching different movies after someone wrestled the controller from Jisung through protests that his show was good and no one was giving it a fair chance. You were sat snugly between him and Minho, taking the younger alpha’s hand in yours and giving it a reassuring squeeze as you leaned over to whisper in his ear. “I promise I’ll watch it with you sometime this week, yeah? Let’s just watch something everyone can agree with for now, yeah?”

His face heated up slightly but he nodded in agreement and moved closer while hiding his face in the crook of your neck so the others wouldn’t see his blush. “Okay- I’m holding you to that.” He said with a squeeze to your hand in return. Minho watched the two of you interacting with a smirk on his face, moving his arm around the back of the couch to play with Jisung’s hair where his head still rested on your shoulder even after removing his face from your neck.

After about three different marvel movies Felix got the idea that they needed snacks and so that’s how you ended up baking cookies with the alpha in the kitchen, though mostly you sat at the island stealing bits of the dough when he wasn’t looking.

Meanwhile, neither of you were aware that Seungmin was watching the two of you from his spot on one of the couches.

He had been reading messages from fans on bubble when he noticed most of them were asking about you. The company has yet to release a statement about the hand holding incident at inkigayo, a meeting having been set with him for later in the week to discuss the best course of action but he didn’t really like the thought of that as he looked between the flood of questions from fans and where you stood in the kitchen with the blonde alpha laughing with him about whatever it was the two of you had been conversing about as he baked.

Without giving it much more thought, the beta raised his phone and snapped a picture of you as you snuck yet another bite of the cookie dough from the bowl sat on the counter. He sent the picture, followed by a string of messages.

“A thief caught in the act”

“Oh, this is the girl from the other day by the way.”

“Her name is Bunny 🐰”

“She’s my childhood friend so please treat her kindly.”

“She is part of staff now too so she will be around a lot, thought it was good to introduce her to stay.”

A few of the member’s phones buzzed with the notifications. Felix looked at his phone after placing another tray of cookies into the oven to bake and his eyes widened. “Kim Seungmin what the fuck-“ came Minho’s voice as he sat up and looked at the beta with a shocked expression. As other members started to speak up and say their thoughts about the younger member’s impulsiveness you just stared on in confusion. “Wait what is going on?” You spoke up, looking between them all and waiting for someone to give you an answer.

Felix held his phone out to you, and you took it to see what they had all been berating the second youngest over. “Oh-“ was all you could see, staring at the messages like a deer caught in the headlights. “You should have waited until you spoke with the company. Seriously, this could end up with a lot of backlash for the both of you.” Chan said, scolding the beta. “Do you not trust stay? Look, most of the replies are really positive. I think they like her a lot already-“ Seungmin held his phone out for the leader to see and he sighed, rubbing at his temples. “Okay…okay. But next time at least talk to me about it before you plan to post stuff like that, yeah?”

Nodding in understanding, your childhood friend gave you a smile and a shrug, holding the phone out to you. “Wanna see what they are saying?”

You made your way over to him, leaning over the back of the couch to read the messages on his phone. Some were congratulating you on getting to work with the boys, others were talking about you sneaking the cookie dough and how funny or cute it was, and others were completely unintelligible as they varied in level of freaking out over getting such personal details from the singer thus feeding into the delusion that they were close with him to a degree. Sure, there were some negative comments, but overall the responses seemed to be positive and for that you were grateful.

Well, things were definitely about to change you thought to yourself. You thought you knew what you were getting into at least to a degree by accepting the offer to be their assistant. However, you were so unaware of how chaotic your life was about to get.

author’s note: finished this a little later than originally planned- I just want to say regarding the content in this chapter that if you have been a victim of sa and you didn’t make a report about it I am in no way shaming you I myself as well as people I know have unfortunately gone through that and didn’t report it’s a very lengthy and invasive process that can also sometimes lead to feeling blame put on you by the hospital or authorities so it’s understandable that for some people especially having just gone through something traumatic wouldn’t want to put themselves through all of that. Just felt like I needed to clarify that after I had wrote those parts into the story- ᕱᕱ₊˚⊹♡

taglist; (pink users mean I wasn’t able to tag) @coastinglove @skzswife @maisyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy @doitforbangchan @chartrucewhore @sebastianswhore13 @finnydraws @bahablastplz

[saturnznct]

d-7; they make him a christmas card | ldh

➸ word count; 867 words

➸ dalgun; aged 11, kyungah; aged 6, sunhee; aged 2

nct masterlist | dadmas masterlist (lnks will be added later)

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Donghyuck absolutely loved anything and everything that his children made. With having three children all aged within elementary school and pre-school it was constant. The paintings, drawings, sewing projects, clay models, posters, easter cards, father’s day cards, halloween cards, and pictures made from stuck down seeds, stones or other random materials. Donghyuck cherished every single one of these art pieces, insisting to you that each child was a prodigy and was going to make it big as an artist one day. He kept everything in a box under the bed, treating them as keepsakes for the future and almost like reassurance that his children’s creative minds are alive and blossoming. So when this year, you wanted to have his Christmas presents be a bit more personal, you thought a card was a perfect place to start. 

He was out of on schedules for a lot of the day, leaving you plenty of time to have the kids make three individual cards for Donghyuck. You practically bought all of the craft stores stock, barely any of your dining room table could be seen underneath. 

‘Have you guys thought about what you’re going to draw on daddy’s card?’ you ask, hoping to pick their brains a little.

‘I-I’m going draw daddy, dancing as Santa,’ Sunhee chirps, grabbing a red crayon from the carton.

‘I’m sure he’ll love that,’ you chuckle, ‘what about you, Kyungah?’

‘I think I’ll do a snowman,’ she purses her lips, in thought, ‘I think I’ll use black card and the special pen.’

‘Good choice,’ you nod, ‘Dalgun?’

‘I’m not sure yet, still thinking..’

You do some work of your own while the kids craft, going through bills and finances and other things that needed organised.

’Sunhee!’ Kyungah suddenly exclaims, prompting your head to snap up. 

There’s a patch of silver glitter across the table, from a tall pot. Sunhee looks mortified, quickly turning to look at you and gage your reaction.

‘It’s okay Sunhee, accidents happen,’ you give her shoulder a reassuring pat, ‘it can be cleaned up.’

You grab a dustpan, quickly sweeping up the glitter from the table and throwing it into the dustbin.

‘Do you want some help?’ you ask Sunhee, who’s card is covered in red, green and blue scribbles, and now specks of silver glitter.

‘I think I’m done,’ she examines her work.

‘Would you like mummy/mommy to write the message for you?’

‘Please,’ she nods, before deciding she’s well and truly finished with the task, hopping off her chair and running into the living room, where you can thankfully still see her as she plays. 

You write down a message for Donghyuck, signing Sunhee’s name for her, since she hadn’t learned to write yet. Kyungah and Dalgun finish up their cards and write their own messages.

Donghyuck doesn’t arrive home until late, way past your daughter’s bedtimes, and a little past Dalgun’s.

‘Have the kids been okay today?’ he asks you as he finally gets into bed, sinking into the mattress with a deep sigh.

‘Yeah, we had a fun day,’ you grin, settling into his arms, ‘the kids made a surprise for you.’

‘Oh really?’

‘Yeah, give it to you tomorrow.’

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‘Dada!’

‘Hello my angel,’ Donghyuck lifts Sunhee into his arms, ‘good morning.’

‘Daddy, we have a surprise for you,’ Kyungah holds out the three envelopes, two with ‘Dad’ and ‘Daddy’ written in Dalgun and Kyungah’s handwriting, the other with ‘Dada’ written in yours.

‘Ah, what’s this?’ Donghyuck coos, ‘you three are so cute! Which one should I open first?’

‘Let’s go youngest to oldest,’ you suggest, preventing a possible argument from breaking out.

Donghyuck opens the envelope with ‘Dada’ written on, face breaking into a huge smile when he sees that Sunhee has made the card herself.

‘What’s this?’

‘Daddy dressed like Santa, on the stage.’

‘Oh, of course,’ Donghyuck smacks himself on the head as if he’s said something completely stupid, ‘I love it, you drew so well, Sunhee!’

‘Me next!’ Kyungah chimes in.

Donghyuck opens the next envelope, pulling out a drawing on black card of a Snowman in the snow, drawn with a special white pen that shows up on the black paper.

’Kyungah, you’re so great at drawing,’ Donghyuck praises, ‘it’s really neat!’

‘Thank you daddy,’ she says shyly.

‘Now,’ Donghyuck opens the card, ‘To Daddy, I hope we can have a fun Christmas together. I miss you. Love from Kyungah.. Ah, come here.’

He pulls his older daughter into a hug, ‘I miss you too, Kyungie. Thank you, I love my card.’

’Time for Dalgun,’ you say, Donghyuck quickly unsealing the envelope, and pulling out a card.

You feel a pull on your heartstrings when you realise Dalgun has drawn a family portrait, the five of you in front of a big Christmas tree.

‘Ah, Dalgun, I love it,’ Donghyuck looks genuinely incredibly moved, full of pride by what his children have made for him.

’To Dad, Merry Christmas, you’re the coolest. From Dalgunie. Ah thank you, son. The three- the four of you are amazing.’

‘Ok, family hug,’ you hold out your arms, the rest of the family joining in.

‘Right, let’s get these straight on the mantelpiece.’ 

[sianagrace]

Bedknobs and Broomsticks and the Beautification of War and Witchcraft: Siana’s Panel Presentation

Robert Stevenson and Ward Kimball’s 1971 fever dream of a musical combines action and animation, war and witchcraft, feminism and effemination, and a classic Disney fantasy touch. Based on the books by English children's author Mary Norton, the story follows Miss Price, the town's "crazy lady", "spinster", and secret witch, as she takes in three young siblings displaced from London during World War II. The four join with scammer/magician Emelius Browne to search for a spell that could “end the war”. Let’s take a closer look!

Narratives and Myths: The Disney-fication of Witchcraft

Stevenson and Kimball Disney-fy witchcraft through Angela Lansbury’s character, Miss Price. Storytellers throughout history often present witches as antagonists or villains: Hansel and Gretel (1812), Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937), and The Sword in the Stone (1963), to name a few. Of course, by 1971, people worldwide could associate “Good Witch” with Glinda (1939), but she was not a catalyst for similarly-natured witches. Miss Price embodies a sense of normalcy and country charm that makes witchcraft seem more like a hobby rather than an all-encompassing characterization of evil. More broadly, Bedknobs and Broomsticks presents magic as realistic, providing the audience with an “anything is possible” mindset.

Depictions of Femininity and Masculinity: Just Feminist Enough

Being a witch simply slots into Miss Price’s identity: she is a single, private, middle-aged woman who lives alone in a large home fairly far from the town center. From our first encounter with her character, we can tell that she does not conform, and has no interest in conforming, to 1940s societal expectations regarding how a woman her age should present herself.

In her article “My Fair Lady: A Voice for Change”, scholar Marcie Ray notes that as America and Western Europe called in second-wave feminism, there came a filmic trend of musicals “[employing] the single girl character to depict the changing nature of (white) female sexuality” (293) as opposed to following a strict love plot. In a later section, “Eliza as the ‘Other’”, Ray discusses the tool of othering the lead female protagonist so she appears to have room for improvement, growth, and assimilation into proper society. Miss Price follows this formula, presenting palatable white femininity and feminism, but ultimately reverting to heterosexual expectations: Mr. Browne, once her anonymous professor of witchcraft, quickly becomes her love interest.

Aligning with the ongoing feminist movement at the time of this film’s production, Mr. Browne’s masculinity, and attached agency, come into question rather than being accepted as fact. His introduction in the film establishes him as a trickster, con artist, and coward. Miss Price turns him into a bunny multiple times, to which he replies “Miss Price, a word about your tactics: if I know I’m being changed into a hawk or a tiger, or something with a bit of flash, but always a fluffy white rabbit? It’s incorrigible!” This power dynamic cements Miss Price, and her playful, modern take on femininity, as the authority and lead throughout the film.

Class and Racial Subtexts: “Portobello Road”

The backdrop of World War II connects all the characters in this film through an environment devoid of abundance, and an expectation of having “less than”. Any hints of wealth or a British upper class can only be seen in what’s left behind during the height of the war rather than through individual characters.

The over ten-minute-long “Portobello Road” musical sequence demonstrates this time of unity through scarcity through color, music, and performance. The street, either through set building or editing, appears gray in itself and tinges everyone walking along the street similarly. This area of London feels communal and bustling while simultaneously being economically disadvantaged. The song, sung by all five of our lead protagonists and by the large ensemble, speaks of riches, fantasy, and possibility: the Portobello Road market is a symbol of hope, even if momentary and unfeasible.

There is little racial or ethnic subtext in this film - past, of course, the significance of WWII and all those groups ostracized, interned, and killed during the time. Portobello Road, however, curiously introduces a densely diverse enclave of London, including spotlight moments of Sikh soldiers, Scottish dancers, and Trini performers. Past their brief musical moments, we do not analyze or revisit these characters. We are, however, shown our five white protagonists interacting with these minority groups in a normalized, meaningful way: dancing, playing, and smiling alongside each other in this utopian street fair. This scene aligns more with the decade of the film’s production (late-60s and early-70s) than it does with the period in which it’s set (1940s). 

Significance to the Audience and Temporality

As briefly mentioned earlier, the character development in Bedknobs and Broomsticks is critical to ensure the comfort of 1970s audiences. Miss Price is just feminist enough, the children as just boisterous enough, Mr. Browne is just crass enough, and everyone is just poor enough. There are many things a contemporary audience can problematize about this film: Miss Price’s reverting to patriarchal expectations of marriage, love, and motherhood; the romanticization of war and, specifically, WWII; Mr. Browne’s sexist remarks about women's memories and professional capabilities. At its core, however, this is still a Disney fantasy with loveable, quirky characters, catchy musical numbers, and an entire additional animated world to fall in love with. There’s a steadfast formula that makes this film enjoyable despite its generational immobility.

Critical Discussion Questions

How do we create lovable characters whose backgrounds are classically/traditionally/stereotypically rooted in horror, antagonism, and/or villainy (ex. witches, con-artists, monsters)?

What generational differences do you see embedded in your film / what changes should/would be made in a remake?

Are love plots actually necessary to the plot of your film or other musicals? What would look different about the trajectory and public reception of the film without a love plot?

@theuncannyprofessoro

[httpscomexe]

Muzzle

Summary: Turns out, the butterfly effect can be real even without a butterfly to be affected. Now the only thing that can go wrong is the words that come out of your mouth.

(Find what I'm currently writing by checking my pinned post)

Parings: Bucky x Reader (Use of fake name)

Tags: @scott-loki-barnes @cjand10

Warnings: Mentions of shooting, mentions of sedation, mentions of guns. (There will be individual warnings each chapter)

Word Count: 2863 (Find all chapters here) Chapter 3

So what if you fucked up? Just because you patched him up, doesn’t mean you’ll ever see him again or have anything to do with Hydra, right? I mean you did them a favour if anything, making sure their precious Winter Soldier didn’t suffer.

“Panic near the Manhattan district when a violent shootout occurred last week. Damage happening all around the street. Cars windows smashed and delicate plates broken in antique stores and coffee shops. Only 2 civilians were found dead, shot by Hydra agents, and multiple others found with minor injuries.” The TVs volume is low as you mindlessly stare at the wall in front of you, waiting for your friend to call you back with whatever “good news” she claimed she had, you had waited hours, but still no call back. It was almost the next day, so you finally decided you should go to bed for the night.

You awoke to the sound of your alarm on your nightstand. Instead of immediately standing, you drag your hands down your face and then turn onto your stomach before screaming into your pillow. Only then do you continue with your normal morning routine, security would be there to inspect your dorm in about five more minutes, so all you had time to do was brush your teeth, and do your hair before there was a knock on your door, so with your toothbrush still in your mouth, you unlock and open the door to your dorm, not even bothering with a good morning as you step to the side immediately and three men storm in with their guns pointed forward, inspecting every inch and undusted corner or your room. As they inspect your room, you spit your toothpaste back into the bathroom sink and rinse your hands before cleaning your face, deciding to go without makeup.

“Okay ma’am, and now for the questions that we’re required to ask you by the-”

“My name is Clover Whittaker. I am the only person who lives in this dorm, no I have not seen any suspicious activity, men, women, or heard anything suspicious from anybody or gotten any suspicious texts or calls from either a hidden or known phone number.” You tell them, giving them your fake name. Only your closest friends would ever know about who you really are. “Why are you staring at me like that? Did I miss something?” You look up from the sandwich you were lazily throwing together.

“Well the thing is ma’am.” One of the men stepped forward. “We got an anonymous tip from someone. They said last week before the shooting that you had been in contact with the Winter Soldier. What do you have to say about that?” You look back and forth between the three men.

“He knocked on my door asking for help. I didn’t know who he was, I don’t really watch the news or keep up with anything happening.” You answer honestly before walking past them to grab a light jacket.

‘Well with your TV I just assumed you watched it every morning.” One of the other men nod towards your TV. The 24/7 news channel is still on your TV, you’d forgotten to turn it off last night and now some fundraiser was on there, something about a pumpkin patch near the college.

“Haha, so funny.” You laughed, your humour entirely dry as you toss a dirty shirt into your laundry bin. “Well sense I’ve been having fully armed, bullet proof government agents barging through my door every single morning, yeah, I’ve had the TV on the news a lot lately.”

“So I take it you don’t know who I am?” The last of the three finally speak up. He’s black, or kind of light skinned but you were sure it was just the way the ceiling light was hitting him. He also had a big ass bag that looked like it weighed a ton or two and some stupid looking goggles were perched up on his forehead.

“Nope.” You answer plainly before grabbing your bag and throwing it over your shoulder. “Now if you excuse me, I need to get to class because unfortunately the grade that I get in maths could also potentially construct my entire future. Please leave my dorm.” You say quickly, waving your hand towards the door in a way that wasn’t meant to seem as rude as it did.

“Ma’am. We’re going to have to ask you to come with us.” Another man walked over and only now did you bother to read his nametag, it read “Coulson.”

“Stupid name…” You mumble, emitting a questioning ‘hmm’ from his closed lips. “Why should I come with you? Actually I don’t care. Don’t answer that. I’m not going.”

“Well see you don’t have a choice because if you refuse to come with us then we’re going to detain you and if you fight we will have to temporarily sedate you.”

“Sedate hmm?”

“Yes, sedate.”

“I feel like I should be calling my lawyer.”

“You don’t have one cause apparently you’re hiding from the law.”

“What makes you think I’m hiding from the law?”

“Anonymous tip.”

“Seriously?”

“This is your last chance, ma’am.”

“Please stop calling me ma'am. It makes me feel old and by the look on all three of your faces combined I’d say your ages would add up to at least three hundred, and there's only three of you so that’s not a compliment.”

“Well, we would refer to you by your real name but you still have refused to give it to us. So unless the name Clover is a nickname, don’t expect us to call you that.” The third one speaks up, last name “Barton,” on their nametag, also stupid.

“Right.” You sniffle awkwardly and part of you feels like running down the hall through the still opened door would be your best option but you weren’t bullet proof and their guns looked pretty real.

“Well?” The black one, who wasn’t wearing a nametag, spoke up.

“So what is your name? I mean you asked if I knew who you were and usually if the answer is ‘nope’ then normally you would tell them.”

“Sam Wilson.” He answers, his voice suddenly getting louder with either pride or annoyance, possibly both.

“You look darker on TV.”

“Okay.” Coulson says loudly, clapping his hands together. “You now have a limited option on what you say next. It will either be ‘I’ll come with you,’ ‘I’m not going anywhere with you guys,’ or you can run away and say whatever you decide so we can sedate you and get this over with.” He says.

“Can I ask a question?”

“Is it sarcastic?”

“Why is there an Avenger in my dorm?”

“Well I thought that was obvious. We’re part of the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division, S.H.I.E.L.D for short.”

“Could’ve just said S.H.I.E.L.D the first time. Actually you could’ve said it before I made fun of all three of you, I would’ve already made up my mind.”

“You haven’t made fun of us though?” Barton spoke.

“Not outloud.” You mumble.

“Well then I’m assuming that means you’re coming with us now that you know we have two avengers and an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D in your dorm?”

“No actually I was gonna run.” You pause, watching as their brows quirk into confusion. “I said that outloud.”

“Yea, you did.” A new voice came from the open doorway and yet another man was standing in your dorm. This one you recognised and wanted to kill yourself over.

“Hey, Nick. How’s your eye?”

At first you were okay with waiting to be interviewed, then the clock passed thirty minutes and you’d had enough of waiting. “Hey.” You start to yell out, hoping for someone to come into the small room to see what you wanted, but no one came in. Instead there was a scratching sound before someone spoke to you through the speaker in the corner of two of the walls.

“Yes? Is everything alright?”

“No everythings no alright. Why am I just sitting in this uncomfortably hard metal chair when I was told I was being interviewed by a Hydra professional?”

“Well see no one wants to bother arguing with you. Everyone we’ve asked either suddenly needs to get lunch at nine in the morning or their fish needs bathing. So you’ll have to wait a while longer.”

“If I have to wait one more minute I’m not giving information to anyone.” Just then a door finally opens.

“Good morning.” The man says. “I’m agent Ross. It’s nice to meet you.” He holds his hand out to you after he crosses the table to shake your hand and you politely shake his hand. “And your name is?”

“Nice try.”

“Well I’d feel a lot better if I knew I wasn’t talking to a criminal. Or if I knew I was.”

“You’re not.” You pause and watch as he takes the seat across from you. “For the most part.”

“What’s that supposed to mean.”

“Back to the subject of why I’m here.”

“I haven’t even gotten there.”

“Exactly.”

“You don’t seem very threatened or uncomfortable considering you’re in a building full of Avengers and secret agents that aren’t governed by the US.”

“No, I’m pretty uncomfortable… At least physically.” You shift on your chair, your ass going numb. “Mentally I learnt from the best.” You look towards the blacked out window, you knew Nick Fury would be standing behind there with his arms crossed, eyes slightly squinted, and head slightly tilted.

“So it seems you know Fury pretty well?” Ross begins to go through his folders.

“Hey if we were just gonna talk about me, we could’ve just sat on my really comfortable cheap couch in my dorm and I could’ve ordered McDonalds.”

“You know, I think you’d get along really well with Mr. Stark.”

“I’ll pass.” You say quickly upon hearing his name.

“Oh? Did we finally find a sensitive subject?” He asks rhetorically.

“Another question about me and I’m not saying anything else. I’m running out of patience.”

“Right.” He says, pulling a pen out of his tit pocket and flipping his notebook to an empty page. “So, what exactly were you doing interacting with the Winter Soldier?”

“He came to my dorm really early in the morning and he was all bloody and gross so I patched him up, and let him shower, then he was on his way.”

“And why was he wounded?” He scribbles in his notebook.

“I don’t know.”

“You didn’t ask?”

“None of my business.”

“A man with a muzzle on his face comes knocking at your door at three in the morning while you’re studying for your exams and he’s covered in blood and smells absolutely disgusting, also would be good to mention that he was carrying illegal weapons, multiple daggers, and there was a huge gun on his back, but you don’t question it or report it?”

“Would you question the embodiment of a felony?”

“No.” He admits. “But I would definitely report it the next day.”

“And who is gonna think reported it the next day when he finds out it was reported?” You cross one leg over the other. “Is he gonna think that the cult or whatever illegal makeup Hydra considers themselves reported him to the police, or is he gonna think it was the young little college girl that more than likely would never be able to overpower him and would probably obey simple laws and morals because she goes to medical school and stays up until three in the morning studying wounds.” Ross doesn’t respond, he only asks the next question.

“Have you seen him since that night?”

“Haven’t seen the man since the shooting.”

“Now here comes the big question.” He clicks his pen and closes his notebook. “Why didn’t he shoot you?”

“Would you shoot the person who stitched you up at three in the morning?”

“Well that depends. Am I also a brainwashed murder who can’t think for himself because everything I do is commanded by whomever currently has control over my brain and my current command was to kill every living being who falls into my eye sight? Or am I just me?” He asks, folding his hands and lending over the table.

“What do you mean?”

“Well if you actually payed the slightest attention to the news, you would know that the Winter Soldier has absolutely no control over his actions.” He slides a folder over to you, you open it and the Winter Soldier's face was on the first page with his name printed above it. “His name is James Buchanan Barnes. His friends, or the people who would call him a friend, call him Bucky, but were going to call him Barnes for the sake of time.” He leans back in his chair, locking his fingers together and placing his hands on his stomach. “Now. When he’s not being brainwashed into the Winter Soldier which was a personality created from a vial which makes him pretty damn hard to kill, he’s just a normal dude. He doesn’t remember who he’s killed, what he said, where he's been. When he visited your dorm that night, he was Barnes, just a normal dude aside from the life threatening injuries. But during the shooting he was the Winter Soldier.” He told you dumbly, watching your hands as you slid the folder back over to him. “So it’s not possible that he remembered you. Even if he did remember you, he had some pretty strict instructions to kill anyone he sees. Which should’ve included you, and your friend.”

“What’re you getting at?”

“We don’t currently know who’s controlling him, but you’re the only civilian who we know has been around the Winter Soldier in the past week.”

“Oh you pathetic mother-” You groan. “Really? You guys think I’m the one who’s controlling him?”

“It’s the only reasonable explanation.” He says, giving you a look that said it wasn’t his idea to bring you in, he knew it wasn’t you. “I mean, you took care of his wounds, managed to unlock a muzzle on his face that required a very complicated key or an extremely skilled thief or lockpicker, then while in public he not only did not shoot you but also listened when you didn’t want him to shoot your friend.” He sits up.

“Pretty big coincidence huh?” Was all you had to say. “I don’t know what to say to that other than I have no fucking idea what’s going on. But you should really consider looking into the anonymous tips you were given. I’m curious about whos behind them.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” You question, sitting back, slouching as you twiddle your thumbs. “Only one person knows my real name of my entire friend group, and he would never tell anyone.”

“Thank you.” Ross stands up, collecting his folders.

“I’m sorry what? Thank me for what?”

“Well you have a very small friend group. About seven people to be exact, two of which your genuinely close to, and both are male, one of which is an avenger so we know it’s not him, so that leaves us with-”

“Edward Leeds.” Phil Coulson walks up to the chubby kid who turned around to the sound of his name. “Phil Coulson, I work with S.H.I.E.L.D, and I’m here to question you about one of your friends.”

“Oh uh, okay which friend?” He crosses his arms. “Also you can just call me Ned. Wait you said S.H.I.E.L.D? Like THE S.H.I.E.L.D? Like the Strategic Homeland Intervention-”

“Yes. S.H.I.E.L.D. Now about your friend.”

“Yea what’s their name?”

“That’s the thing, we don’t remember her name. But here's a picture of her.” He pulls out his phone, and a live video of you shows on the screen, still sitting uncomfortably on the most useless chair on the planet.

“Oh that’s Clover.”

“Her real name preferably.”

“Clover.”

“You’re a very loyal friend Mr. Leeds.”

“Like I said, Ned is okay.”

“Yes but Mr. Leeds is less friendly and it makes you uncomfortable, so I’m going to use that. Now I’m going to ask for your friends real name one more time or I’m going to have to bring you into the interrogation room, same as hers and we have legal authority to torture you since the information could be vital to save thousands or even millions of lives.”

“No.”

“Her name is Jasper.” You smirk as Ned, who was sitting upright next you, his eyes not leaving the numerous torture devices, finally says, and it still isn’t the truth.

“What a friend Ned.” You say, your arms crossed as you try your hardest to look betrayed, even though it was yet another fake name, just one that was actually in the government's database.

“Full name preferably.”

“Jasper Rosefield.” He says.

“Well Ms. Jasper.” Agent Ross says. “Now we definitely know you’re hiding something.”