#there's fucking sitting here and throwing jokes. going on DATES having a DRINK.

[fiovske]

girl what the hell are they doing in the mandalorian 🧍

[chukys-mouthguard]

good graces

you do something suspect, this cute ass bye-bye

featuring -> william nylander x female reader

genre -> angst/fluff

word count -> 1.35k

-> short n’ sweet masterlist

“Have you seen Willy on Spittin’ Chiclets yet?”

Your friend called to you from the kitchen as she started on making drinks while you were taking a bit longer on your makeup than you would’ve liked.

“Fuck I forgot, let me pull it up.”

You and William had been seeing each other for almost nine months now, though not putting a label on it things were pretty serious. Having taken numerous trips together, William constantly spoiling you, all while telling you he couldn’t imagine his life not getting to be your guy.

He’d gotten invited onto the Spittin’ Chiclets podcast and you were excited to watch. It was one of your favorite shows, but you also were anticipating them to ask William some hilarious questions.

“Okay so, we gotta ask. You’re a young guy here in Toronto, dare I say you’re a stud! What’s the dating scene like here in Toronto? You tied down by a lucky lady, what do you have going on?”

William chuckled as you quickly flashed your eyes to the screen of your cell phone, seeing the way he blushed at them asking the question. While you knew this podcast had been filmed several weeks ago, you were still aware of what his answer should be, at least from your perspective. But as he hesitated, and stumbled over his words you could feel your grip on your eyeliner tightening.

“Yeah um, I’m definitely here for a good time. Not really tied down, just enjoying my time here for sure with whoever comes into my life. But, I like to think I do alright for myself.”

Pausing the video you emerged from the bathroom to find your friend with the same look of shock on her face as you currently had on your own.

“Are you joking?”

“He’s fucking dead. Not really tied down? Is he stupid?”

You couldn’t believe William had actually said those words, not really tied down. Had the last nine months been something casual and meant nothing to him? Here you were ready to go out to dinner with him and some friends, but now all you could repeat through your brain was that interview.

“What are you gonna do?”

You headed over to the bar cart, grabbing a shot glass and the tequila. Throwing back a shot before you hurried back to finish your makeup.

“I can’t bail, but he’s going to see a side of me he won’t like if he doesn’t acknowledge it, that's for sure.”

You’d arrived at the restaurant, the few tequila shots you’d tossed back calming your frustrations a bit, though you were still upset with William. Not wanting to ruin the night you figured the least you could do was power through a dinner and not give away any sign you were unhappy with him.

But as the dinner unfolded, it was as if anything William did was coming across as suspect. The way he smiled at the waitress, calling her sweetheart anytime she’d checked in or brought him something. The way he would place his hand atop hers anytime she’d stop by the table and ask if he needed anything. Your anger only building as you thought back to his comments on the podcast, rolling your eyes thinking that everything with him was just a casual fling to him. Despite how much he’d meant to you.

He caught you staring at him from across the table, you’d opted to sit across from him versus next to him so you could give yourself a bit of space to try and give him the opportunity to notice your mood. But he didn’t necessarily catch on, acting as if things were normal other than where you’d chosen to sit.

With dinner wrapping up, you’d all chosen to go to one of the bars down the street. William now noticed how you were walking arm in arm with your friend rather than by his side. He called out to you, simply getting the cold shoulder as you elected to keep walking as if you hadn’t heard him. Your mind focused on getting to the bar and getting some more drinks in your system, needing to channel your frustrations through alcohol and dancing.

William opted to sit with the group, watching you dancing on the floor with your friend. Figuring that he’d done something to piss you off, but he didn’t know what. Usually the two of you could talk through things, but it was clear you had no desire to talk to him tonight. And he knew better than to push you or force anything on you, simply giving you the space you wanted.

His eyes followed you as you made your way to the bar, a guy soon approaching you as you ordered a drink. William fully expected you to kindly dismiss the man, but instead he saw you laughing and smiling. Your hand resting on the man’s forearm as you were clearly enjoying yourself. He tossed back his drink in frustration as he stood up, making his way to the bar to step in before you’d do anything further to really anger him.

“Hey, everything okay?”

William smiled down at you as he rested a hand at your lower back, flashing his eyes to the gentleman with a bit of a glare. Only to be met with a smile as the man had recognized the blonde haired Maple Leaf that stood before him.

“Yeah, William, you know Joey. Joey Loperfido, outfield for the Blue Jays. He’s actually a really big Leafs fan!”

“How are you man? I’m a big fan of yours as well! I was actually at the game last week, great win!”

The two of them shook hands, though Joey sensed some tension and kindly excused himself.

“Really Willy? I was making friends.”

“Friends? Is that what you called that? I saw from a mile away you were flirting with the guy!”

He scoffed as he rolled his eyes, taking the spot in front of you at the bar as he signaled the bartender for another drink.

“Like you care? This is just enjoying time with whoever comes into your life, remember?”

William looked at you confused, unsure as to what you were talking about. Making you laugh as you sipped your drink, rolling your eyes as you found it hilarious he was trying to play dumb.

“I heard you on the Spittin’ Chiclets podcast, don’t play dumb! Has the last nine months meant nothing to you? I mean, you tell me all the time how much you love being my guy, but could’ve fooled me with the answer you gave Biz and Whit.”

William immediately brought a hand to his face, groaning as he realized now what you were referring to.

“Y/n, baby, look at me.”

He brought his hands to your face, despite your trying to push him away. A smile on his face as he looked at you.

“The Spittin’ Chiclets podcast is the last place I would ever want to confirm or announce you as my girlfriend.”

Your eyes went wide hearing him call you his girlfriend, the title not being something he’d ever used before. And while you wanted to be mad at him for what he said, it was hard hearing how amazing it felt hearing him finally call you his girlfriend.

“Wait, like, we are official now? I’m your girlfriend?”

“If you’ll have me as your boyfriend? Though after tonight I’m not so sure.”

Quickly you pulled his lips to yours, feeling amazing to kiss him after being distant from him all night. He smiled into the kiss, assuming that was your answer. And it was a good enough answer for him.

“But so help me god William Nylander, if you ever say some dumb shit like that again, you do not want to bring out my mean side.”

He chuckled at your scolding as he stole another kiss from you.

“Oh trust me babe, tonight I got a taste of it tonight and I’m staying in your good graces if it’s the last thing I do!”

[ifancyharry]

Bad habit (2)

In which YN is Harry’s daughter’s teacher, and she and Harry used to be friends in college; smut; daddy!kink; fluff; angst; dad!harry (read part 1 here)

Word count: 18K+

“Find a place for us to sit, pet, I’ll go order”.

When Harry had told her he wanted to catch up, YN certainly didn’t think he was serious. She doesn’t know why any time it comes to Harry, she thinks he’s joking or making fun of her, how pathetic could she be that even the thought of him wanting to grab a coffee with her makes her think he’s taking the piss out of her?

She doesn’t know why, but she does, and when he had texted her if she was fine to meet him in the late afternoon for a coffee, she had to read the message three times to fully grasp its content. 

She couldn’t believe her eyes, and she still can’t fully grasp the extent of it, when Harry is walking back to the table she’d chosen holding a tray with two coffees in his hands and a small ceramic white plate with a slice of banana bread with two small forks on it.

Oh god. He looks good. He’s so pretty it’s unfair, and YN thinks it’s nice seeing him outside of the school environment. He’s much more relaxed, and she notices he carries himself around with a sort of gleam to him, and many heads turn to look at him when he walks, but, then again, it has always been like this when it came to him.

As he’s walking back with their orders, she can fully grasp how he’s dressed: a pair of distressed jeans hug his legs, tucked away in a pair of black Uggs that YN finds adorable (even more so when she remembers Aidi owns a pair exactly like him’s), and a black hoodie on top, his pink fluorescent beanie tucked away in the back pocket of his jeans. When he catches her looking, she averts her gaze quickly, but she doesn’t miss the smile he throws in her direction.

She tries not to blush too much when he sits in front of her and pushes her coffee towards her direction. He then takes the ceramic plate off the tray and positions it in the center of the table.

She takes a sip of her coffee and her eyes close as she tastes the sweet hot drink, “still ‘member your coffee order”, he chuckles, smirking with his lips around his own mug of coffee.

YN takes a big gulp before setting her mug down, her cold fingers wrapping around it to keep some of the warmth with her. She doesn’t know how he could be so carefree in the way he delivers these types of informations.

To YN, remembering how someone takes their coffee after probably what could be more than five years, is a big deal. Like big. Because she remembers only a few of her friend’s coffee orders. And among these, there’s Harry’s. But that isn’t special on her part, because she used to have a crush on him and she’d always be extra mindful of every little thing he did, and she knows for a fact that wasn’t Harry’s case when it came to her, so, once again, it doesn’t have to mean anything. 

It doesn’t, right? She needs to convince herself many times of this before she goes down a rabbit hole too intricate for her sanity.

“So…” she trails off, uncertain on how to make small talk, “’s been a long time, huh?”

Fuck, when she thought she couldn’t get any more awkward than she already was, she delivers the exact same line he had told her days ago at the school. 

“Yeah” he giggles, and if he noticed that she repeated his own words he doesn’t let her know, “you’re a teacher now.”

Her brows furrow in the center and she throws him a puzzled look, “I am. Don’t try to act too disappointed. You say it like there’s something wrong with it.”

“No, no, ’s not that” he’s quick to say, waving a hand in front of him, “of course there’s nothing wrong with being a teacher, bug, I just… I remember your stories.” 

It’s weird to her, how he would go there not even ten minutes into their coffee date, and she wonders what his point is. The chosen pet name doesn’t go unnoticed, and she feels the sound of her heart beating in her ears, but she knows it doesn’t have to mean anything. Probably too much baby talk with his three years old. 

“Wha’ you used t’write in class. — he clarifies — you were good. Like… we’re talkin’ Stephen King good. I can’t believe yeh’re not writin’ anymore” 

“Who told you I’m not writing anymore?” She teases.

He shrugs, “Figured you aren’t…” 

“I’m not” she admits sadly, shaking her head. “But I wasn’t that good. I was… okay” 

“You were, though. You really were… gotta give yeh self more credit” 

She looks down and plucks a piece of banana bread with her fork, bringing the small bite to her mouth and closing her lips around it.

She doesn’t miss how his eyes fall to her mouth, and she suddenly feels too hot. 

She clears her throat and he averts his gaze quickly, bringing the mug to his lips and taking a small sip of his coffee.

“Let’s talk about you, then” she points her index finger in his direction and grins jokingly, “do you even work? Or are you a stay at home dad?” 

She feels a little silly now, and she wonders if he understood the true meaning behind her question. Of Course she wanted to know what he was doing with his life, but she really, really, really wanted to know if he was married, too. Can you blame her? 

He blows a laugh through his nose and, “Bloody hell, I wish! Stay at home dad — he repeats in a mocking manner —, no… I write stuff”

YN furrows her eyebrows as she chews around a rather dry piece of banana bread “stuff? What do you mean?”

“Whatcha think I mean? Books, ‘f course! Silly thing yeh are” he laughs and YN really wishes the ground would open and swallow her in one big bite.

“Well” she trails off, “I recall you mustn’t be very good. Never seen your name in a book shop” she raises her brows in a challenging manner and her lips open in a grin across her face.

She likes teasing Harry because he gets all flustered and antsy, and for a moment it makes her feel in control. For a brief moment, though, because he’s quick to respond with a wit remark.

“‘Nough o’that! Yeh haven’t seen my name ‘cos I write under a different one…” 

“I don’t believe you” she says, shaking her head.

He raises his eyebrows in surprise and smiles a sly smile at her, “have you ever read ‘The Argonauts’?”

“‘f course I have” she scoffs, “it’s like the most popular book of the last… shut up! Shut up! No, no way!” 

“Don’ act so surprised, pet! Yeh’re gonna shatter my ego” he says, showing one of his dimples in a sideway smile. YN has to refrain herself from poking her index finger into it.

“Uhm, sorry… it’s just… wasn’t expecting it” 

Harry watches as she lowers her head and brings the mug of coffee to her lips, taking a small sip. Her cheeks are pink and Harry wonders if it’s from the warmth of the drink or because of him, he likes to think it’s the latter, but he knows it’s probably not. YN has always been one hard to read, and as the time passes, he observes that hasn’t changed. She’s slightly more open now, at least she engages in a conversation, whereas before, she always seemed too busy to talk to him. 

“You could do it too if only you wanted” he shrugs.

He’s aware the atmosphere between them suddenly changes, but he doesn’t regret his words. He remembers how passionate she was about writing, and he remembers how good she was too, much better than him, and it pains him to think she’s spent years not knowing it.

“Maybe I don’t want to.” She snaps, “you don’t know me like that anymore”

“Think I never did, bug” he says, and YN doesn’t miss the embittered grimace that spreads across his features.

“Aidi is a cute kid” YN says after a while, tracing the handle of her mug with her fingertip. She notices he hasn’t eaten the cake, and she pushes the plate closer to him.

“She is” he smiles happily, picking up the other fork and dipping in the banana bread, “love her so much. Dunno what I’d do without her”

YN reciprocates his smile, “she’s very polite. You and her mum did a good job”.

She bites her bottom lip and she feels mortified. What possessed her to say that, she doesn’t know, and if Harry wasn’t aware of her crush up to that point, he must have definitely understood now that she manipulated the entire conversation on finding out if he has a partner.

Harry looks in her eyes with a glint in them, and he smiles amused, “are yeh askin’ me if I’m single?”

“What! No! You obviously aren’t, I’m not…”

He interrupts her with a loud laugh and “i’m just teasin’, love. Her mum isn’t in the picture. She bailed when Aidi wasn’t even one. Claimed it was too much, she was too much.”

“Oh, Harry. I’m really sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything” she smiles sadly, and she stretches a hand across the table to meet his, which she squeezes lightly.

“’s okay. I don’ blame her. A child ’s a big responsibility” he shrugs, and when YN goes to remove her hand, he only squeezes it tighter, “but she definitely didn’t raise her”

YN nods and throws him a brief smile, the skin of her hand burning under his touch. Harry doesn’t remove his hand until the very last moment they have to leave, and she feels both hot and cold in his presence.

She had forgotten what it was like, being in his presence, and if her feelings were under control before, she feels them inside her like a raging river now, pushing to be let out. 

It’s weird, to her, because it’s both premature and both too late, now, and despite the shift in their dynamic, and despite feeling like the universe might have given her a second chance, she isn’t brave enough. She’d never speak first. It’s a tale as old as times, and it’s been like that since she was little, and perhaps that’s why her relationships with the other sex stayed circumscribed to awkward hookups with strangers she’d met at bars, sometimes even single parents, but that was very, very awkward after (and it happened only one time, so it doesn’t even count!)

“‘m really happy we did this” he smiles. They’re both walking out of the coffee shop now, and he holds the door open for her, and YN really tries not to stumble on her feet. Now, that would be very awkward. 

Maybe, it’s a cruel joke of the universe, or she’s just as clumsy as a little kid, because as soon as she steps outside, she turns around to wait for him, and in doing that, her shoe stamps on the untied lace of the other shoe, and she feels her feet tangled together when she turns.

She prepares herself from the embarrassing imminent fall, but instead she is met with a pair of big arms circling around her waist and holding her in place.

Her nose is pressed against Harry’s chest and she tries to be very subtle in the way she takes a small sniff of his scent, smelling perhaps his fabric softener mixed with a woodsy, tobacco scent, that she figures could be his cologne.

“Woah, easy there, bug” firm, strong, hands take a hold of her bicep and she regains the balance on her feet, her eyes still avoiding his.

“Strong reflexes you have there” she mumbles, and she feels so embarrassed she might throw up all over her sweater.

“Comes in handy with a three year old” he chuckles, his fingers still gripping the fabric of her sweater.

“There’s the little bugger” he says, and before YN can say anything, he crunches down on the ground and starts untying her shoe laces.

He ties them back in their place, and YN smiles despite the embarrassment when she notices he still uses the method of the two bunny ears, and she remembers Aidi telling her that her daddy is teaching her how to tie her own shoes (“because I’m a big girl now, Miss YN”).

“There ya go” he pats behind her knee and smiles slyly at her when he’s back at eye level.

“Thank you” she blushes, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“You know…” he trails off, and YN finds herself leaning closer, almost too scared that someone else would hear him and that his words weren’t only for her to hear, “you haven’t changed a bit.”

Her mouth twitches and she tries not to feel too disappointed, feeling at a loss for words.

She bites down on her bottom lip and she crosses her hands against her chest to shield herself from the sudden wave of cold that possessed her. She doesn’t know what to say so she chooses to not say anything, she just watches as he takes his car keys out of his pocket.

She has to bite down her tongue to refrain herself from asking about the bunny. Because there definitely is a keychain in the shape of a very cute cream colored bunny hanging from his keys, and she isn’t delusional now. She’s sure it’s a bunny. 

She smiles at him when he catches her staring at his fingers wrapped against the keys, and he reciprocates the smile. Unspoken words linger between them, a question about a bunny and an honest conversation about feelings, and it goes way back, to a conversation they both aren’t ready to have.

“See yeh tomorrow?” He asks, to which YN nods, “yes.”

They part after a brief hug and a promise of doing this date thing again, and YN tries not to smile too much on the tube on her way home to not scare the other passengers. 

And to think he said he didn’t know her. YN thinks he may know her better than anyone else.

…

It’s a little later in the month now, and despite the chilly weather, YN can’t wait to get to school.

Every year, the teachers organize a small, mid day, trip to the zoo, something easy but that the kids love very much, and parents are welcomed to come too, if they don’t feel safe enough to leave their kids with just the teachers. YN is ecstatic when she walks inside the classroom and a bunch of kids are already inside with Miss Enya, loud chatter fills the room, and she can feel the excitement lingering in the air.

It’s endearing, really, how something as simple as a trip to the zoo could make a kid so happy and giddy, and she just loves the atmosphere in general. She also really loves animals, and this zoo is more of a farm, really, so she knows the animals are being taken care of rather well.

Harry walks in at around 8, Aidi perched up on his lap, swinging her little legs happily.

She smiles at him a warm smile, and once he settles the little girl down, he makes his way quickly towards her.

“Don’ think we’ve ever been this early” he laughs, knuckling at his eyes tiredly. He looks extremely soft, and YN takes in his appearance. He’s wearing a pair of running shorts, with a black sweatshirt on top, the lace tied at the neck, his feet tucked in a pair of white vans with white socks ending at his low calves. YN thinks she’s never seen him dressed as casual as he is now. His hair looks soft and disheveled, as if he’d just washed it a couple of hours before, and YN has to refrain her hand from brushing away a stray curl that’s fallen on his forehead.

“They love the zoo” she simply says, shrugging.

He nods as he looks around and YN wonders if he, too, can feel the excitement that’s lingering in the air, “do yeh need help with somethin’?”

“Can you help me pack the snacks? I’m a little behind” she gestures towards the apples and chocolate bars she had bought earlier in the morning. 

“‘f course” he smiles, rising the sleeves of his sweatshirt up to his elbows and positioning himself next to her. He picks a small, clear, plastic bag and takes first an apple and then the milk chocolate bar, putting them both in the small bag along with a napkin, before twisting the ends of the bag and tying it in a knot.

“No bunnies today?” He asks after a while, and YN really has to refrain herself from asking him to repeat himself.

She looks at him with her brows furrowed and he points to her top, a black hoodie similar to his in style, “no bunnies” he repeats, as if it was the most normal thing ever.

At this point, YN really can’t understand whether he’s teasing her or flirting with her. 

She tsks her tongue against her palate and once she gains his attention, she brings two hands to the neck of her hoodie, tugging it down and revealing the gold necklace tucked away in the warmth of her shirt. 

Harry raises one hand and brushes his fingers against her collarbone to pick up the necklace, not daring to go under her hoodie, and when the pendant is out and swaying against her chest, he picks it up in his hand. It’s still warm, and he feels a twitch in his belly at the thought of where it was tucked away between her breasts. 

“See, — he smirks, raising his gaze from the bunny to her eyes — I knew it was a necklace”

He throws the pendant another amused glance, and then he picks the fabric of her hoodie between his thumb and index finger at the neck, letting the necklace fall back to its previous hidden place, and then he turns back to packing the snacks, as if what he just did didn’t ruin YN completely. She feels her chest heaving, and she’s suddenly hyper aware of the necklace against her skin, as if it caught fire with his touch, and she feels the bunny fall hidden between her bra, warm from his hands. She’s completely ruined. And she thinks her panties are too.

…

 “Daddy! Daddy! Snakes!!! I wanna see the snakes!” 

Aidi comes running towards them when they pass the reptile area and she probably sees a drawing of a snake on one of the signs, tugging Harry’s hand to gain his attention. 

“Bug, yeh know daddy doesn’t like snakes” he whispers, crunching down to her level, and YN grins teasingly because despite his effort of talking in a small voice, his daughter betrays him saying “daddy yeh don’ have t’be afraid, there’s the glass to protect yeh!”

YN chuckles loudly when she hears that, and Aidi looks up at her teacher with the most father-like grin YN had ever seen, “daddy is scared of snakes”.

“Am not!” He blushes, rising up from his crunched position, “YN, don’t laugh. I am not”

YN only laughs louder, throwing her head backwards and placing one hand against her tummy.

Aidi joins her, giggling loudly at her daddy’s pouting lips.

“I can go with you” YN proposes, looking down at Aidi. 

After the first tour of the zoo, the two teachers agreed with the parents to split up, to give every kid the opportunity of seeing what they wanted to see most, according to meet up at 1pm for lunch. 

Harry had asked YN if she wanted to tag along with them, and Aidi had jumped in her place when she said yes, so that’s how they got here, in front of the reptile area.

“Yes!” She jumps excitedly, still holding her daddy’s hand, “thank you miss YN”

“Yeh don’t have to thank me, love. C’mon!” She stretches a hand for her to take, which Aidi does duteously, and together they walk inside the reptile house.

Once they’re inside, Aidi asks to be picked up to see the snakes better, and YN watches enamored as the little girl waves at the snakes resting inside the vivarium.

It’s nice to see how gentle Aidi is, because in a way, she’s an extension of Harry, and seeing how good he did with her, warms YN’s insides until she feels her limbs turn to jelly.

And to think he raised her alone! He did such a good job, she doesn’t know how to tell him again without sounding weird. It’s a strange feeling, watching the child of someone you once were in love with. Because at this point there’s no use in denying it. She was in love with Harry, the biggest crush she’d ever had for someone, never developed and never told, which is probably the most pathetic thing YN can think about. 

“Were you friends with my daddy?” Aidi asks all of a sudden, still perched against her hip. 

“Yes, I still am his friend” 

The little kid nods and points to one of the snakes that’s resting on a tree branch, “what’s his name?”

YN couldn’t possibly know his name, so she hums and pouts her lips jokingly, “I don’t think he has a name, bug.”

Aidi frowns at her words and YN is quick to say: “why don’t we name him?”

The toddler opens her mouth in a toothless grin and she sways her little legs in YN’s hold, excitedly. 

“I wanna call him Mr Snuggles”

YN tries to suppress her laugh because she doesn’t understand how a snake could be associated with snuggles, of all things, but she knows this is a very serious matter in the perception of a three year old, so she assumes a serious face and gives her a firm nod of the head, “that’s a perfect name for him”

Aidi smiles brightly at that, happy to have the approval of her — favorite, Harry had confessed — teacher.

…

Back on the bus, YN is checking that every kid is strapped in as she walks through the bus’s hallway, smiling at every kid that she sees (most of them sleeping) and when she reaches Harry’s familiar face illuminated by the small light shining on his seat she smiles brightly at him.

When she notices the empty seat next to him she frowns and she goes to ask him where Aidi is, but he’s quick to say: “wanted t’sit in the back, like a big girl, she said” 

YN giggles at that and stretches her neck to look at the back of the bus, where she sees a group of toddlers sitting in the last row, she spots a sleeping Aidi between them, with her face propped against the big window.  

When the bus takes a big pothole, she has to hold on tight to the seat next to him to prevent her from falling, and when Harry notices that, he tugs on her hoodie with his hand to gesture her to sit next to him.

It’s almost six now, the sun has set and the road is dark, as is the bus, the led blue light of the hallway and every now and then the small one on top of the seats of still awake parents, the only sources of illumination. 

She plops down in the seat next to him, crossing her legs in front of her. 

He shifts in his seat so that he’s propped with his back against the window and his face is facing her. She does the same, watching him carefully. 

He stretches one leg towards her on the ground and he bends the other at the knee against the back of the seat. This way, the skin of his knee brushes against her thigh, covered in a pair of leggings, but she might as well be naked with the way he’s looking at her, like he’s ready to devour her, and she tries to think if he’s ever watched her in that way. She doesn’t know, because she never really paid attention, assuming right away he’d never even spare a glance in her direction. 

Was she wrong…

YN closes her eyes and she abandons her head against the headrest, shifting a little on her bum so she could get more comfortable, the long day catching up to her. 

After a while, she feels Harry shift in his seat again, but she is too tired to open her eyes and check what he’s doing.

She feels the light finger tip of his fingers brush against her temple, brushing the hair away from her face, then he caresses the skin of her cheek softly, the contrast of his cold rings against her warm skin a solace for her skin, and he is so delicate in his movements YN feels like a rare flower he’s scared of plucking.

When he reaches her lips, she doesn’t know if she’s dreaming, and she feels his thumb brush against her mouth, the skin of his thumb tender and warm. She feels a hand sneak against the side of her neck, cradling her jaw and pushing her delicately against him. 

She feels herself fall against his chest, between his legs, and she snuggles unconsciously against the soft fabric of his sweatshirt, her fingers reaching up to grab a hold of the fabric.

Her breathing regulates with every stroke of his gentle hand against her hair, and she feels herself fall, deeper and deeper in that rabbit hole she doesn’t see the end of.

…

YN stares at the screen of her phone, double checking the address Harry had written before ringing the door bell. 

It’s a warm Sunday of November, and YN is standing outside Harry’s house, a plastic pink bag tucked between her fingers as she chews nervously on her bottom lip. 

When Harry had told her, at the beginning of the week, that Aidi’s birthday was coming up and she’d begged him to invite her to the small gathering Harry was throwing her, YN certainly didn’t have it in her to decline.

It warmed her heart that Aidi liked her so much that she wanted her at her birthday party. These things are weird, and kids always watch on their teachers with an eye on, wary of the power dynamic. But perhaps that wasn’t Aidi’s case. 

YN can already hear the loud screeching voices of small kids playing, and when Harry opens the door, she greets him with a brief hug, which he reciprocates kindly.

Weeks have passed from the zoo trip, and they didn’t speak about what happened on the bus, because truly, what was there to even speak about? 

Harry is kind, and gentle, and probably just didn’t want her neck to hurt, his fatherly instincts kicking in providently. It’s as simple as that. 

“Hi” he says, “come in”.

YN walks inside, light on her feet as she follows him. He’s wearing a big knitted brown sweater, the neckline and the hem of the sleeves detailed in green, paired with a pair of green tailored pants that hug his thighs just right, and YN can see the muscles of his legs stretch as he walks. 

“Aidi’s present” she holds the pink plastic bag between them, and Harry throws her a furrowed look, “yeh didn’t hav’to”

YN swats playfully at his arm and rolls her eyes, “‘f course I had to!”

He grins at her and then eyes her carefully, gesturing towards her coat when he sees she’s about to take it off “yeh can put that in m’room upstairs. Don’ wan’ t’get it mixed up with t’others. ’s t’second door on the left” 

YN nods her head and gulps under his gaze, removing her coat and holding it tight against her chest.

Maybe wearing the most revealing dress she owns wasn’t a good idea. She’s still his child’s teacher, for god’s sake!

Well, she can’t really go back now, can she?

The dress isn’t even that revealing, it’s just flattering, with a square neckline that shows a little bit of her chest, long sleeves and that ends just about mid thigh. Opposed to the oversized jeans and big sweaters she wears everyday at school, it’s a big change. 

She turns around and walks towards the stairs, following his instructions.

She opens the door of his room and walks in, leaving her coat on his bed, and she tries not to think too much about how she’s leaving her coat on his bed. The room is nice, it reminds her of Harry, colorful and lively. The sheets are white but the bed is a nice cream color, above the headrest there are three abstract paintings that remind her of Jackson Pollock’s. She walks closer to his bed side and she smiles when she sees a framed picture of him and Aidi. He’s smiling brightly as he holds her against his hip, both dressed head to toe in Disney merch, Aidi showing off the most precious little Mickey Mouse ears on top of her head, Harry sporting a matching pair, and she feels herself fluster at the sight. 

They are both so precious, she can’t believe Aidi’s mum didn’t want to be a part of their life. Maybe she feels a little jealous, because in her mind, she truly did have it all and threw it away; she’s aware it’s unfair, thinking about others this way, and she’d never even met this lady! What if she was nice? 

She doesn’t know, she just knows it wasn’t fair, leaving like that, and she wonders if Harry still feels the pain of it or if it’s an entirely healed wound.

She walks out of his bedroom and shuts the door behind her, looking attentively at the pictures on the walls and paintings he decided to have framed. YN believes you can tell a lot by someone’s house, and the chosen decor that comes with it, and she wonders what could be behind the closed doors she passes on her way from Harry’s bedroom to the staircase.

Perhaps he has a room full of books where he spends his Sunday afternoons, or maybe a playroom for his daughter… one must definitely be a spare bathroom, the other…

“Miss YN?” She hears a small voice coming from behind her, and she turns her body quickly in its direction.

Aidi is looking at her with a puzzled expression, soon to be replaced by an excited one when she starts running towards her, hugging her leg tightly.

“Miss YN!” She exclaims, “why are you here? Daddy didn’t tell me”

YN furrows her brows at her and crunches down on the ground, hugging the little toddler.

She chooses not to linger on her words, she’s little, maybe she forgot she had invited her? Maybe Harry simply didn’t tell her? But YN remembers clearly how Harry had told her Aidi had begged him to invite her. Was he�� lying? But why would he?

“I’m here because a little birdie told me it’s a special someone’s birthday?” 

“It’s mine! It’s mine!” She giggles, jumping up and down in her place.

YN picks her up and tickles her belly playfully, “mmmh, is it?”

“Yes!” She giggles again, “stop, stop, tickles” the hallway rumbles with the sound of their laughters, and YN wonders if this is what it would be like to have a family of her own… Hallways always filled with laughter and colorful bedrooms and rooms full of books…

“Do yeh want to see my room?” She grins, and YN nods at her.

She looks adorable in her checkered baby blue dress, her hair are tied out of her face with a clipped white bow, and YN feels her chest warm at the thought of Harry doing her hair, because she definitely knows it’s him now.

YN follows the toddler to her room, the door in front of Harry’s, and she opens her mouth in exasperated surprise once she sees it.

The walls are painted a pale pink, small elephants stickers plastered across the walls, and she can see on the ceiling the faint stickers of luminescent glow in the dark lights shaped as stars, a big crescent moon just above her bed.

She imagines what her room must look like at night, when it’s time to go to bed and Harry perhaps reads her a bed time story before tucking her in.

“Woah” she exasperates, “it’s beautiful!”

“I know” she giggles childishly, running to pick up a few of her dolls from the ground and putting them on the bed, “daddy did it”.

“You have a great daddy” YN lets out, and she blushes at her own words. It’s not like Aidi understands to an extent what she really had meant, but still, letting out those feelings makes her feel antsy.

“He is the best” she nods seriously, picking up from the bed another doll.

“Miss YN, do you want to play dollies with me?” She asks politely, showing her the two chosen dolls.

“I think we should go downstairs, bug! It’s your party!” 

“Uh! You’re right” she agrees firmly, and YN tries to suppress her laugh at her serious pout.

“We’ll play later, yeah?” 

Aidi nods once again and takes YN’s outstretched hand in both hers, and they both walk slowly out of the room. 

“You’ll stay for dinner?” She asks, hopeful.

“‘f course I am! ’s your birthday!” To which Aidi giggles loudly.

Laughter filling the hallways once again.

…

“Sorry I left you alone all day, hope yeh weren’t too bored”

It’s a little later in the day now, and YN is sipping on her drink absentmindedly while observing the beauty of Harry’s garden. The grass is well cut, English style, into a kind of hallway that serves as a driveway, and many flowers are planted adorning it. 

She’s standing on the patio, where everyone had sang ‘happy birthday’ to Aidi not more than an hour ago. 

Some of the guests have already left, leaving only a couple of Aidi’s close girl friends and their respective parents. The sun is still shining, but it has lost its warmth, and the air is turning colder with every minute that passes.

The day had gone by quickly, Harry had rented an inflatable castle that was set up in the small garden that surrounded the house, where the kids had played until exhaustion.

Then, after a brief lunch (cooked diligently by Anne — Harry’s mother, YN had found out), Aidi had opened her presents, sitting on the couch and wearing the most precious tiara YN had ever seen — she made sure to tell her that.

Harry had been kind of busy all day, mostly checking that the kids didn’t hurt themselves while playing in the garden, making sure everyone was well feed and that no one’d leave with an empty belly.

After Aidi had opened her presents, he took care of tidying up the living room, tossing the pieces of wrapping paper she had discarded all over when opening her presents.

YN had stayed behind, talking every now and then with a couple of parents from the school that would come up to greet her, and she didn’t miss how some of them had eyed her suspiciously, and she wonders whether they thought something was going on between Harry and her. 

She also didn’t miss how some of the mums would act around Harry, flirting blatantly with him, and she honestly can’t blame them. Harry is attractive, and above everything else he’s polite, kind and intelligent. Not to mention how much he adores his daughter.

it’s endearing how he takes his time to hear every single little thing she says, and he appears to engage in these conversations as well! He’s not only pretending to listen, he truly is interested in the way she sees the world and in the way she tells about it, and to YN, that is one of the most valuable traits of his character.

He’s standing in front of her now, towering above her and eyeing her carefully.

She shakes her head at his previous remark and brings a hand to shield her eyes from the sun, “I had a lot of fun”, she says, squinting one of her eyes.

He moves a little on the right to cover the sun and she lowers her hand thankfully, “i loved the bouncy castle, always wanted one” she chuckles.

“Yeah?” He says, smirking, his dimples appearing proudly on his cheeks, “maybe I’ll rent one for your birthday… if yeh behave, that is”

YN feels herself fluster, and she gulps, his words replaying vividly in her mind. 

If you behave.

He must definitely know the effect he has on her, because his eyes gleam, bright, and he looks down at her grinning slyly. 

She scoffs when she recovers control of her own mind, “I’m too old for that!”

“I’d rent one for grown ups, silly” he remarks, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

YN wasn’t even aware they made bouncy castles for grown ups, and now she kind of wants one for her birthday. She won’t let him know, though.

“By the way…” she trails off, because now she’s the one that wants to tease, “Aidi told me she didn’t know I was coming”

“She did?” And he raises his eyebrows in surprise like he was caught in a lie, only for a brief moment, though, because he’s quick to add, “Told her many times lying ’s bad.”

“I feel like you’re the liar” she mocks, swatting at his arm playfully. 

“YN” he says seriously, “are yeh sayin’ you believe a four years old over me?”

“That’s exactly what I’m sayin’” she nods.

He pouts his lips jokingly and YN really, really, has to refrain herself from kissing his pout away. 

Her gaze lingers a bit too much on his pouted, strawberry lips and she averts her eyes quickly when his tongue peaks out to wet them. 

“You’re silly” he chuckles, and he raises one hand to pinch her tummy through the fabric of her dress. The movement makes goosebumps prickle on her skin and YN crosses her arms against her chest to warm up.

“Are you cold?” He asks quickly, and she doesn’t even have time to say no that he’s already scurrying inside, walking through the glass door.

YN follows him with her gaze, and she watches through the glass as he picks up a throw blanket from the couch, his brows furrowed in concentration and his tongue peaking up from between his lips as he bends down to pick the blanket up. 

She turns her head quickly when she sees him make his was back to her, and once he reassumes his previous position in front of her, he opens the blanket to show it to her.

He unfolds it between them and then circles her shoulders with the blanket, wrapping it then across her front and tucking the hem under the other side.

“There yeh go” he smiles snugly. 

The blanket is soft and warm, and it hugs her body mellowly, and YN is aware it’s weird, but she suddenly feels protected under the shield of that soft fuzzy blanket, and perhaps not only from the cold…

“Thank you” she whispers softly, snuggling more in the blanket.

He looks at her every movement, his eyes are a deep shade of green, and she wonders if he’s ever looked at her like this before or if it’s the first time. She remembers he used to have these same eyes when he was a little bit drunk and the night was slowly coming to an end, or when he used to read one of her poems for class and he would look at the piece of paper as if he wanted to set it on fire with his gaze.

“Daddy!” They both jump at Aidi’s voice, and Harry turns his head quickly in her direction, welcoming her with a bright smile.

YN lets out a breath she wasn’t aware she was holding in and she, too, turns to look at the little girl. 

“Is miss YN staying for dinner?” She asks, stretching her arms upwards, demanding to be picked up.

Harry shifts her on one hip and looks towards YN warily, “I don’t know, bug…”

“‘f course I am!” YN is quick to say, raising her hand to tickle at Aidi’s belly lightly, “told you already, haven’t I?”

The little girl smiles happily, snuggling closer to her daddy and YN doesn’t miss the bright smile Harry shows her, which she mirrors instantly.

…

“Do you have anyone you need?” YN coos, referring to the stuffed dollies that Aidi required to be tucked in next to her as well.

“Think so…” she whispers sleepily, crowing her neck to check if she had everyone.

It’s bed time, now, and Aidi had specifically demanded that YN had to be the one to tuck her in, to which YN had agreed without a doubt.

YN is about to get up from the bed when Aidi says “no! Wait! Cinnabun isn’t here”

YN furrows her brows, and throws a pointed look towards Harry, that is still propped against the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest. He has an alerted look on his face, and YN tries to make eye contact with him, but he averts her gaze quickly.

“Have yeh checked under the bed, pet?” He says, walking inside her room.

He stops in front of the bed, where YN is sat, and he places a ring-clad hand on the bed, right next to her thigh, crunching down on his knees to check under the bed.

“There she is! Little bugger! What were yeh doin’ under the bed?” He addresses the stuffed animal directly, “wanted to avoid bed time, huh?”

He pats away a little bit of dust off, and then places the bunny right next to his daughter, that holds it tight against her chest with the crook of her small arm.

YN is watching his every step as he moves, and she’s very well aware that Cinnabun is, in fact, a stuffed, pale pink bunny, dressed as a ballerina, and that resembles very much one of the bunnies that YN had printed on one of her old shirts she used to wear in college and that she eventually lost in the various times she moved.

When are coincidences no longer considered coincidences?

…

When Aidi has peacefully fallen asleep, Harry shuts the door quietly behind them and he makes his way down the stairs, YN trailing behind him, and she stays light on her feet, almost too scared she’d scare him.

Her mind is thinking a thousand thoughts all at once, and she isn’t really sure what to do. Does she address the bunny? Does she keep quiet? Is she going to pretend nothing happened? 

She doesn’t really know how to keep going, actually, and she isn’t sure how she’s supposed to engage in a conversation with him, when her own mind isn’t even connected to her mouth.

“Sorry she made you stay for dinner” he says once they reach the end of the stairs.

She wants to ask him if he’s sorry she stayed for dinner, but how can she?

“What? No! I’m happy I stayed” she shrugs, tucking her hands in the pocket of the hoodie he had lent her before dinner.

“Okay” he nods.

Something’s changed, YN can feel it in the way he’s averting her eyes, and she suddenly feels like she should leave. 

“Maybe I should go? It’s getting late…” 

“No!” He blurts quickly, “no — he repeats calmly — stay a little longer.” And it really sounds like a plea. 

And she doesn’t find it in her to go. It’s as simple as that. Sometimes all it takes is four small words.

So, she nods her head, and she gulps when she sees him visibly relax, some of the tension in his shoulders dissipating, and she wonders what the hell is going on.

Is it because of the bunny? She knows it sounds silly, bunnies aren’t special, most especially stuffed bunnies, and she’s aware they’re very popular with kids, but it’s the same bunny. Thesame. And hadn’t he not mentioned remembering it, she wouldn’t have thought any more than what it was; a simple bunny. But nothing was simple when it came to Harry. And nothing was simple when it came to YN. 

“Do yeh want some wine? I think I have some red in the cabinet…” he asks, pushing a stray curl out of his forehead with his fingers.

She hums, “yes. Yes, okay”

He nods and makes his way to the kitchen, and YN debates for a moment if she should follow him.

When he turns his head briefly to check where she is, she realizes he wants her to follow, and she does, catching up quickly with him.

…

A couple of drinks later, the tension has evaporated completely, and both Harry and YN are relaxed in each other’s presence, probably like they haven’t been in a long time.

They’re both sitting outside facing each other, on the wooden chairs in the patio, because Harry had claimed he was getting too hot inside. YN had chuckled loudly and told him it was probably the wine, but, still, he dragged her outside, picking up the throw blanket when walking on the way out.

YN has her legs crossed at the ankle and her feet propped on his upper thigh (she had originally put them on the chair, but he had moved them immediately after, claiming it was more comfortable the other way), and Harry the same, so the blanket could cover the both of them equally.

Harry is stroking the skin of her shin as he talks, because he is a really talkative drunk and a touchy feely drunk probably even more so. YN doesn’t know if he realizes what he’s doing, and most especially, what he’s doing to her, because with every stroke of his fingers against her naked skin, goosebumps pebble in its wake.

She takes a sip of her wine, and she bats her eyelashes tiredly, and she doesn’t know if it’s the wine or his velvety voice, but she feels herself almost drift off to sleep. Almost.

If it wasn’t for one thing Harry says that catches her attention and perks her up against the backseat of her chair. 

He was reminiscing on their college years, and he was rumbling, in YN’s opinion, and she was too tipsy and too besotted with the way he was caressing her skin to understand fully what he was saying.

Until he mentioned how he always used to ask her for a spare pen, and YN felt her breath catch in her throat, because there’s no way he remembers that.

“Yeh had so many! One time you gave me a pink one… I think you hand’t realized, and I really didn’t have it in me heart to tell yah, so I had like… five pages of pink notes!” He snorts, “they were so pretty, though” he says dreamily.

“You could have told me!” She chimes in, pinching the skin of his thigh covered under the blanket.

“Pff” he scoffs, “‘f course I couldn’t… I had like, the biggest crush on you. Like… the biggest” he stresses.

YN’s eyes widens when she hears him, and she lowers her glass on the ground, suddenly feeling very sober. 

“I was so in love wit’you! M’friends always used t’make fun o’me fo’it.” He continues, and he shakes his head and laughs a soft laugh through his nose, his green eyes twinkling like a lighthouse in the dark night, as if behind his gaze the memory of his college years is running fast as a joke YN didn’t hear quite well enough to participate in.

“What?” YN says, and she tries to hide the surprise in her voice. Her heart is beating fast in her chest and his words are replaying in her head. Isn’t he a little too old to play games? 

“Harry… what are you even… what are you talking about?” 

“Don’t tell me yeh didn’t know?” He raises his brows in surprise, and he balances his empty glass on the armrest of his chair, the clear wine stained glass shining in the night. “You were t’prettiest girl I’ve ever seen, o’course I liked yeh” he chuckles.

She feels her heart skip a beat as her eyes are fixated on an undefined point in front of her; prettiest girl he’s ever seen? That couldn’t possibly be true. 

Yn remembers how she was in college: shy, never spoke her mind, every once in a while — when people paid attention — she would crack a joke, that would come out strangled and rushed, and she remembers vividly how often her friends wouldn’t get the joke, and she’d have to explain it, therefore the joke losing all its funniness, and she would try her hardest not to avert her gaze from their eyes, and she remembers clearly in her mind how it felt, what was it like having all those eyes looking at her, especially a pair of green ones that used to always make her nervous — they still do, if she’s honest.

Once again, she tries to think about the past, and if there ever was a time when Harry had looked at her like more of the awkward girl that sat next to him in class, but she can’t find any. And at this point, after months of knowing — reknowing — Harry, shouldn’t she be able to tell when he’s telling the truth? Because he is, he looks like he is. And she wishes he is. But the thought carries with it a bittersweet taste, the awareness of being too late lingering on her head like Damocle’s sword.

“No… no, you were with Natalia, I remember you dating Natalia” YN says nodding her head, trying to somehow convince herself Harry is still going on with this joke she isn’t aware of. 

She’s positive she would’ve noticed if Harry liked her. 

But… would she, though? 

Because she remembers all those nights she spent looking at him, and averting her gaze when he’d catch her, and she vaguely remembers how sometimes she’d feel his lips linger a second too long on her cheek when he’d greet her goodbye. 

“No! — he says, furrowing his brows, — that was after. After I realized I had no chances with you. Natalia was kind o’… there. Yeh obviously didn’t like m���back… everyone knew. Y’were always in y’own world… I never really knew how to talk to you…” he says, and YN feels like she might throw up.

She feels hot and cold at the same time, and she wants to rip off the blanket from her legs, but Harry still hasn’t stopped touching her, and she feels lightheaded. 

She feels exposed, and she definitely feels stupid, and images of a very college-y Harry run fast before her eyes, as if her brain is presenting the proofs of what he’s saying.

She sees him laugh at her joke (squinted eyes and dimples on display too!) when she thought no one had heard her, she sees him looking directly at her that one time he was playing a Beatles song on the guitar, she sees him brush his knee against her thigh willingly, and asking for her pens, and complimenting her on her writing and on her stories, and she sees him looking with piercing eyes at her lips that one time she had to read her short story out loud.

She sees him now, looking at her with half lidded eyes, his hair clipped back with one of Aidi’s pink, flower shaped clips, and she feels sick. She feels sick and at the same time she wants to kiss him. She wants to lean in and brush her lips on his, taste the wine on his tongue, explore his mouth…

“Don’t worry, — he says after a while, when he realizes YN hasn’t said anything, waving a hand in front of them — I got over it after a while.”

“No… I… I didn’t know. You never — you never said anything, I…” at this point, she’s rumbling, but she really doesn’t know what to say. It’s sad, really, how much time she lost thinking no one liked her. Harry liked her. He liked her! Even if she was shy! Even if she was awkward! She can’t seem to wrap her head around it, somehow the thought of him liking her back, overwhelmed her. How sad could she really be?

“Oh! Don’t go all embarrassed on me now!” He giggles, but they both are aware that there’s no humor in his laugh, “It’s in the past now… told yeh I got over it.” He repeats.

“Yeah, yeah — she laughs nervously, shifting uncomfortably on the chair — I just wish I knew.” 

“Yeah… me too. Me too.” He nods, biting his bottom lip to prevent himself from going further. He had already ruined the night enough. He didn’t have to confess how he hadn’t gotten over her, not even a bit.

…

Harry looks at his reflection in the mirror and he sighs. He shouldn’t go. He knows he shouldn’t go. He knew it as soon as he read YN’s text, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to. After what he told YN, drunk on wine and untold words, he should’ve stayed low. And believe me, he wanted to. He even debated whether he should enroll Aidi in another kindergarten. It was that serious. But then… he saw YN. He saw her in school, wearing a big long sleeve t-shirt with the pink outline of a bunny on it, that almost swallowed her, and she looked fine, she smiled brightly at them once they came in, and he thought maybe she didn’t remember. Maybe she was so drunk she forgot how he told her about how much he loved her back in a time where everything seemed so simple yet it never truly was. That’s why, when he’d gotten the text, he only debated for a brief moment before answering.

“I look hot” he nods, trying to convince himself. He’s always been confident in himself, but… there’s something about getting rejected by the very first girl you liked seriously and having to see her after you professed your love for her.

“What was that, honey?” His mum, Anne, calls out from the bedroom, and Harry cusses under his breath. Great.

“Nothing, mum” he stresses, passing a hand through his hair to adjust them.

“You ready?” Anne asks once he enters the bedroom, and she walks up to him to tug at his tie a bit, straightening it.

“Yes” he nods, thanking her for the tie. “Aidi is okay?” He asks, picking up his phone from the nightstand and removing it from the charging cable. 

“Yes, already tucked in bed” Anne smiles, “so… this thing you’re going to…” she trails off, leaving the phrase unfinished.

“It’s for charity, mum. Aidi’s school is hosting it. I think all parents are going…”

“And are you going with someone… someone special, perhaps?” She teases, walking to his closet and putting away the fresh clothes she had just washed for him. 

“Mum! No!” He exclaims, whining, “you know I have no time for a relationship.” 

“I know, my love, but… it’s been four years now. Don’t you think it’s time to get back out there?” 

“I don’t need to, mum. Really. Things are fine as they are” he shrugs. “I have to go now, ’s gettin’ late”

“Okay, just lookin’ out for yeh baby” she says softly, raising one hand to squeeze his shoulder reassuringly. 

“I know, mum. I’m gonna say bye to Aidi, now, yeah?”

“You do that” she nods, following her son out of the room, “oh and Harry?”

“Yes?” He questions, his brows furrowed as he turns his head to her.

“You look handsome” she giggles before disappearing down the stairs. Harry lets out a groan at his mum’s teasing and makes his way to his daughter’s room. 

…

YN takes a sip of her champagne as she scans the room attentively. Many parents have come up to her to greet her hello, everyone but the one she was particularly looking for. It’s well past 10 now, and Harry still hasn’t show up. YN doesn’t even know if he’s coming, really. When she had sent the invitation, she didn’t know what to expect. After that night at his house, YN tried to play it cool, but his words resonated in her head every time she wasn’t busying herself with something. 

What was the point behind what he said? What did it mean? After all these years, did it have to mean something? Or was it something he said to be… fun? To reminisce on past times? 

She possibly couldn’t know, and she wouldn’t dare ask him, so she just pretended nothing happened between them, greeting him and Aidi with the biggest and brightest smile she could muster.

When she sees him walk in, she feels her breath catch in her throat. He looks… he looks handsome. Dashing. She truly wouldn’t know how better to describe him. His hair are brushed back from his forehead, but a single strand curl is falling in front of his eyes, and he’s wearing a black suit with a white shirt underneath it, a black tie around his neck. She gulps when they lock eyes, all the way across the crowd of people, and he smiles at her, dimples on display, his eyes bright and green.

He’s walking towards her, making his way through the room like he owns it, and once he’s in front of her, he lowers to greet her with a kiss on the cheek. 

“Hi” he says against her ear, “you look… beautiful” he tilts his head backward just enough to take her in, and she truly does look beautiful. She’s wearing a long, black velvet, off the shoulders, long sleeve dress, that hugs her in all the right places and curves. 

“Thank you” she blushes, raising one hand to hold against his bicep, “you do too”.

He grins at her and she flushes, looking around the room to avoid his piercing gaze.

“So, what’s this thing fo’ anyway?” He asks. 

“Oh… it’s just money the school raises for parents that can’t afford to pay the tuition, it’s a noble cause, really” 

“It is indeed, you didn’t mention that in your text” he questions, looking at her with his brows furrowed.

“I knew you’d come anyway.” She shrugs, “you’ve always liked helping others”

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise and he clears his throat, “That’s true, I do.”

She throws him a gleeful smile which he reciprocates immediately, and for a moment, they stay like that, looking in each other’s eyes, and YN doesn’t miss the gleam in his when he locks them with hers.

Harry’s thankful. He thought that after what he’d said, there would be tension between them, and that he’d kind of ruined their new found relationship, and he’s thankful now that he’s learned he hadn’t. It’s true, what his mum said, he’s been alone for four years, never really being alone but always feeling lonely, and it’s nice having someone to talk to, every once in a while. 

“Do yeh know where I can get a drink?” 

…

It’s a little later in the night now, and YN is feeling tipsy but definitely not drunk. Harry hasn’t left her side once, and they chatted like no time had passed between them, and it’s delightful. Truly. She hasn’t felt like this in a long time. 

“I think I need to get some air” she chuckles, “the champagne’s gettin’ to my head”

“Let’s go outside, yeah?” He takes her hand in his and guides her through the room. 

As they’re making their way out of the school, YN hears someone call her name from the hallway. She raises her head quickly, a puzzled look on her face that fades as soon as she recognizes the speaker, “oh my god, hi! How are you?” She exclaims, leaning over to greet Michail with a kiss on the cheek. 

“I’m fine! I was wondering where you were… kind of was looking for ya actually” he chuckles, raising one hand to scratch the skin behind his neck. 

“Oh…” she flushes, giggling embarrassedly. She hears Harry beside her clear his throat, and then two pair of eyes are on her, looking at her curiously. 

“Michail, this is Harry. Harry… this is Michail” she introduces them, and Harry stretches one hand between them, that Michail shakes tightly. 

“Nice to meet you, are you a teacher too?” He asks Harry. 

“What? No… I’m here as a guest” he chuckles, “YN’s guest” he points out. 

YN feels herself blush at his words, and she throws Michail a brief smile, “oh, okay” he nods, “so I guess I’m not seeing you later?” 

“Yeah, you guessed right” Harry smiles, but YN can hear the tension in his voice. 

What is happening? She feels her head spinning and she really needs to sit down. Or get some air. Either one would be fine. 

“Okay, it was nice seeing you, YN” Michail says, “you too, Harry” and he leans in to place a kiss against her cheek, waving bye to Harry and walking back in the other direction. 

YN watches his back as he walks away, and once he disappears behind the big doors of the gym, she turns her head to look at Harry. But he isn’t standing at her side anymore, he’s walked a bit ahead, a hand tugging at his hair. 

“Hey, you okay?” She whispers as she approaches him, and he’s startled by the sound of her voice. 

“Yeah, yeah” he nods, reassuring her. 

“Okay” she whispers once again, squeezing his shoulder lightly. 

 “Maybe I need to sit down” he ponders, nodding his head and locking his eyes into hers. His are panicked, searching all across her face, and he finds comfort in her soft gaze, but he doesn’t miss the confused look across her features. 

“Wait, let’s go in here, yeah?” She gestures towards one of the classrooms she knows is vacant at this time in the night. After hurrying Harry inside and checking that no one had seen them go in, she closes the door behind them. 

Harry sits on the big desk and YN stands in front of him, searching for his gaze with her eyes. 

“Harry… are you okay? What happened?” She tries again, stretching her arm to squeeze his bicep to gain his attention. 

“Is that… who was that?” 

“Who? Michail? He’s… one of the kids’ father” she says, “we used to see each other… a while back” she admits. 

“See?” He chimes, his brows raising in question. 

“We hooked up one time” she shrugs, crossing her arms on her chest to shield herself from the sudden cold that took upon her body. 

“And were you plannin’ on seeing him tonight, too? Because you know, when you sent me that text, I thought I was coming as your guest, YN!” He snaps. 

“You are my guest?” She says, but it comes out more like a question, and she doesn’t know why. Confusion is running through her mind and she feels silly standing in front of him like this. 

He scoffs at her words, “yeah, I am. Like every one else is, right? Because you didn’t invite me” “Harry, where are yeh gettin’ at? It’s a charity gala thrown by the school! Of course every one was invited” she clarifies, her brows pinched at the front. 

He shakes his head, “so I guess I’ve misread the signs” 

“What signs?” She questions, and when he doesn’t answer, she repeats herself: “what signs, Harry?” 

“I thought you invited me! But I guess you didn’t, because yeh don’t like me like that and yeh never did. It’s fine. I get it. I just thought… when the invite came… fuck… I don’t know what I thought” he rumbles, and YN feels her head pounding. His words don’t seem real, and she feels as if she’s experiencing this conversation from outside of her body. 

“I don’t understand” she simply says, because it’s true, she doesn’t, and despite feeling silly, she wants him to clarify. She wants him to be honest and tell it to her face. 

“I don’t know how to show it any more than I already am” he shrugs, his eyes avoiding her gaze, looking anywhere but her face. “I really don’t, YN. You have to help me here because I don’t…” he doesn’t finish his phrase on time that YN is already on him, cradling his jaw with one hand and the nape of his neck with the other, and she presses her lips against him, hard, in a kiss that knocks the air out of his lungs. 

He gasps against her mouth and she sighs into his, her fingers curling through his hair and tugging a bit. He places one hand on her hip and tugs her closer to him, parting his legs a bit to make room for her. 

As he indents his fingers on her skin, the realization of what’s happening finally hits her, and she parts from his lips with her chest heaving between them. Harry follows her lips with his own, and he pecks her mouth briefly once again. 

His mouth is greedy, and he kisses her like she could float away any moment, and she relishes in the feeling, and it makes her feel special, like she’s never felt in her whole life. She tugs on his hair and he sneaks his tongue inside her mouth,  exploring every inch of it. 

He caresses his tongue against hers, and it’s all teeth clashing against each other, and he’s sucking greedily on her bottom lip, drinking her in. He parts from her lips and makes his way down her neck, kissing against her skin avidly. He bites the tender juncture where her neck meets her shoulder and then licks against the bite, soothing the skin. He blows against the mark and then keeps going down, the low neck of her dress allowing him access. 

“Fuck” he breathes against her skin, “I waited years for this”. 

A whine comes out choked from his throat and she sighs heavily. He brushes his fingers against her arms, tugging down the sleeves of her dress with him. 

“Are you drunk? How much did you have to drink?” He asks mindfully, parting from her skin and looking agonizingly into her eyes. 

“I’m not that drunk” she states, her chest heaving with every breath she takes, “I feel okay. Do you?” 

He leans down to leave a kiss between her eyes and she closes them, not missing the affection behind his gesture. 

“Yes” he whispers, and YN can feel his breath against her mouth. She rises her head and their mouths meet in a shy peck. 

He then leans down to kiss her shoulder, and then tugs her dress down, exposing the skin of her breasts. 

She instinctively brings her hands to cover herself, her palms shielding her pebbled nipples, and “sorry, if it’s not… if I’m not…” she shakes her head, feeling pathetic in her shyness. 

With gentle hands he grabs both of her wrists and tugs them down, then he switches hands so he could hold them with just one hand, and he brings the other one to her side boob, caressing the skin with his thumb. 

She shivers under his touch, goosebumps pebbling against her skin, and she watches his every move, as his fingertips continue their path down her body, caressing her side and resting at her waist.

He splatters a hand against her stomach, stroking the skin softly, “Look at me” he says, and his tone is soft but has a dominancy to it, and YN finds herself obedient to him, and she rises her glance to meet his, albeit shyly.

“It’s me” he says, “it’s me” he repeats. As if to say, I’m an old friend, and nothing has changed. 

Does he know she’d dreamt of this feeling in the comfort of her bedroom many times?

“I know” she whispers, “i’m just…” 

“You’re perfect.” He chimes in, “ the most beautiful girl i’ve ever seen”. And he’s aware he shouldn’t be like this. He’s aware he could be making a fool out of himself, because even if she has consented to this, this doesn’t necessarily mean anything. It doesn’t mean she feels it too. But he has to tell her, now that he has a chance. Now that his behavior and sappy compliments could be misjudged as coming from horniness. He can tell her now. Just this once, she can have everything.

She smiles shyly at his compliment and she nods her head briefly, “okay?” He repeats, “okay” she reassures.

And they’re back to square one, but this time, when Harry leans in to take her right nipple in his mouth, she doesn’t stop him. She frees her wrists from his hold and brings a hand to the back of his head, pushing herself into his mouth. 

When his teeth graze the sensitive skin of her hardened nipple, she lets out a whimper, and Harry, avid and eager to hear the sound again, bites gently on it. 

“You’re so sensitive” he breaths out, as he continues sucking on her nipple. 

He brings the hand that rested against her stomach to take her other breast, and he pinches the other nipple between his thumb and index finger.

He parts from her nipple, breathing heavily, and YN lets out a loud sigh at the sight of his lips shiny with his spit and swollen from the kissing. He’s gorgeous. 

He brushes his thumb against her nipple, and “more” she pleads, begging him. 

He chuckles breathlessly, “can you take your clothes off for daddy?” He asks, and YN feels herself almost faint on the spot. Of course he’d have a daddy kink.

She gulps and with trembling hands she reaches behind her back to unzip her dress. 

She halters her movement once she remembers a tiny detail they both didnt notice, “the door” she stresses, “we didn’t lock the door” 

He throws a glance towards the door, and stands from the big desk, walking towards it.

“The door doesn’t lock” he says after checking. 

“Fuck” she breaths out.

He turns around, a sly smirk adoring his features, and he makes his way back to her.

“That just means I’ll have to be quick” he grins. 

He places a hand on her waist and gives her a reassuring squeeze, “take the dress off”.

And YN reaches behind her back and tugs the zip down. She’d never had someone refer to themselves as her daddy before, and she feels so hot and wet she’s sure her panties are completely ruined. She doesn’t miss how he’s still completely dressed, and she pouts her lips at him, “you too”

“Shh” he shushes her, “daddy makes the rules”.

She bites hard on her bottom lip and with her fingers she pushes the loosened dress down her body, to pool at her feet. 

She’s just in her heels now, and she looks down at her feet, but before she can reach down to untie them, he stops her, “leave those on”.

She nods cautiously and when she sees him take a step towards her, she takes one back involuntarily. He’s looking at her as if he wanted to devour her, and she feels small before his eyes. And she likes that. Because this time, even if he’s in control, he’s completely dependent on her. And there’s a power in that too. 

Her butt meets the cold surface of the desk, and she jumps surprised at first, then she sits against it. Once he reaches her, he brings one hand on her outer thigh, caressing the skin there.

“S’soft” he murmurs, looking avidly into her eyes with his green ones.

“Scoot up” he orders, patting her thigh, and she obeys, sitting her bum on the desk.

With one hand against her chest he pushes her down, so she can lean against the surface, and she shivers once her back meets with the cold desk.

“Aw” he coos, “are you cold baby?” 

She hums, her hands subconsciously come up to shield her tummy from the cold, but he’s quick to grab them, “don’t worry, baby, I’ll keep yeh warm”

She gulps and closes her eyes once she feels him shift on his feet, crouching down to be at eye level with where she needs him most.

He brings his hands on her knees and parts them, but YN is quick to stop him with her anxious thoughts: “Harry” she breaths out “we don’t have time, the door doesn’t lock. There’s no time”

“Shh, baby, shh now.” He whispers, parting her knees once again, and she feels him speak against the skin of her inner thigh as he slowly, agonizingly, makes his way towards her clothed pussy. 

“Don’t call me Harry, yeh know better” he says, and with his palm he swats down on her cunt, making her let out a surprised moan, the much needed contact on her clit making the blood rush to her brain.  

“Let daddy make you feel good, huh? The quicker yeh are, the less chance we get caught” he smiles mischievously. She hums and closes her eyes forcefully. 

“Can’t believe yeh made me wait years to taste yah, such a bad girl” he says, and YN can feel his breath against her cunt, even though she isn’t sure what he’s doing right now with her eyes closed.

She feels his hands on her knees again and he opens them more to have better access, and then, he lays his tongue flat against her still clothed pussy and takes a big stripe, from her entrance to her clit.

She whimpers at the contact, her hips shifting, following his mouth. 

He chuckles against her skin, moving the tip of his tongue once again to her center, “tastes so sweet…”

She wants to ask for more, but she’s sure that if she were to ask him, he wouldn’t oblige, only teasing her further, so she keeps quiet, biting so hard on her bottom lip she can feel blood rush to the surface.

He brings one hand to twist the top of her panties and he tugs the fabric upwards, so he could see the outline of her pussy from behind them. 

“So pretty” he says, and YN whines at the sensation of her now too tight panties against her clit.

He brings his middle finger to her pussy and caresses her clit with a light touch that’s not remotely satisfying enough, and then presses down on it.

“Please” she begs, her legs fighting to close, because despite the contact not being enough, it’s still something.

“Please, what?” He chuckles darkly, his middle finger moving in circles on her clit now, but she needs to feel him without the fabric between them.

“More” she simply says.

“Tha’s not enough, pretty girl… you’ve been sooo bad, I think I should leave this pretty pussy as it is…” 

“No, Harry, please, please, I need it. Please. I want you to touch me”

 “Ah, Ah, Ah” he tsk, “i told yeh not to call me tha’” he’s really enjoying watching her squirm under his touch, and he brings his thumb down to her entrance to push in a bit, her hole sucking the fabric right in. 

“I’m sorry, daddy” she whispers, embarrassed, “please”

He smiles victoriously and with two fingers he picks the fabric of her panties and snaps it back against her cunt, “see, that wasn’t so hard, huh?”

She shakes her head and lets out a whimper.

“Do yeh want my mouth or my fingers?” He asks, as he leans down to tug at her underwear.

“Both” she pants.

“Soooo greedy” he teases, but once her panties are out of the way, he doesn’t waste a second before he’s spreading her legs open, and he watches as her lips part, exposing her pussy to him completely.

Her clit is swollen between them, and he thinks maybe he’s teased enough, so he leans down and finally takes it in his mouth, sucking on it avidly.

YN lets out a loud moan when his tongue finally comes in contact with her clit, and she brings one hand down to bury between his hair, pushing him against her.

He moves the tip of his tongue sideways against her clit, and then against the under part of it, where he finds she’s most sensitive.

With his middle finger, he caresses at her entrance, massaging around before he pushes it in, burying it to the knuckle. The fit is tight, and he wonders how much time it has been since she’s slept with someone. 

Still sucking on her clit, he starts moving his finger in and out, curling it every once in a while against that spongy part inside her, sure from the sounds that leave her mouth and the wetness that’s coating his finger, that she’s enjoying this just as much as he is.

Once he feels her walls loosening up a bit, he withdraws his finger to draw a second on in, and she gasps at the feeling.

“Shh” he shushes, “relax. I’ll take care of anything, let daddy take care of yeh”

After a couple of pushes, she relaxes, and he starts moving up the speed of his fingers, still sucking on her swollen button. She lets out whimpers and little mewls, and he understands she’s close by the way her walls flutter against his fingers. 

He’s both rough and soft in the way he’s taking her, and YN wonders how that could even be possible. She doesn’t stay on the question much longer, though, because she starts to feel the unmistakable pressure of an orgasm blossoming in the pit of her stomach, and she clenches around his fingers.

“I’m gonna cum” she blurts out, “i’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum… oh!” She feels him speed the movement of his fingers inside her, and he starts alternating between sucking on her clit attend staking it with his tongue rapidly.

“Cum, baby, cum for me” he hums against her clit, and she feels the vibrations of his voice right against the bundle of nerves, and that’s what eventually pushes her to the edge.

She arches her back as her legs fight to close, and Harry guides her through her orgasm as he keeps fingering her, this time bringing his thumb to stroke against her clit because he wants to watch her when she cums.

He feels her walls flutter close as they push his fingers out, and he rolls her clit in circular motions with his finger until she’s back from her high, breathing hard with her chest heaving. He leans down to lap at her juices, “wanna lick yeh clean” he says, and he does, tonguing at her entrance and drowning in her wetness.

He leaves a final kiss to her clit and she whimpers at the sensitivity of it all, her back still against the desk. 

“You okay?” He asks after some time, and he notices how her chest is still heaving with big breaths.

“Yes, give me a minute and I’ll return the favor” she replies, mechanically, and Harry furrows his brows at her statement. 

Of course, he was delighted that she wanted to return the favor… but was that all it was? A favor? He suddenly feels confused and the previous excitement that had run through his veins left place to a kind of disappointment he didn’t know what to make of. He thought he had been pretty obvious with his feelings, and with the way he had shown them, but maybe, nothing had changed since college, and he was still that guy that got rejected many times by the girl he thought was the prettiest and nicest.

“It’s okay” he shrugs, his voice suddenly low and stern, “i’m okay” he continues.

YN rises her back from the desk and looks at him pointedly, and once she takes in his serious features, she feels her heart jump to her stomach.

Oh. He doesn’t want her to. That’s what it is. 

She suddenly thinks about how stupid she had been to kiss him. Of course she doesn’t regret it, because she could never regret what it led to, but being rejected like this? Fuck, she certainly wasn’t expecting it. 

Wasn’t he turned on? She swore she could have felt his hard cock brush against her a couple of times, but maybe after he had eaten her out, it went down? 

That’s one thing that had never happened to her, despite her many insecurities, and she feels her ego suddenly bruised. 

She nods and gets up from her position, her feet touching the ground. She watches as he lowers to her feet and picks up her dress, handing it to her. 

She suddenly feels too exposed, which is weird, after what happened, and the air had turned cold and uncomfortable, and she can’t wait to leave the classroom and go home, tucked away in the comfort of her bedroom where she figures she’ll spend the entire weekend, given this soul crushing experience she just had.

She takes the dress from his hold and notices how he turns his back to her, giving her privacy to redress, which is nice, of course, but totally necessary, and it’s making her really paranoid, because is he so grossed out by her body he doesn’t want to take another look at it?

She slips in the dress, and tries to zip it herself, but when she realizes she can’t zip it all the way, she clears her throat to gain his attention.

“Can you?” She gestures towards the back with her thumb, and he gives her a swift nod before circling her and standing behind her. 

He brushes the hair from her back and drapes it over her one shoulder, his fingertips brush against her skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. She hears the sound of the zip being pulled up and he clears his throat, “all done” he says, and she doesn’t miss how it’s the only thing he’s said in a while.

“Thank you” she smiles, and he gives her a small one back, but his dimples don’t appear, and she’s saddened by that realization. 

“We should go” he trails off, “’s gettin’ pretty late”

YN doesn’t have a watch on her but she figures it couldn’t be later than midnight, but if he wants to go, she certainly can’t stop him, albeit a little disappointed. This isn’t how she was hoping the night would end. 

Harry walks to the door and opens it, letting her out first, and they walk in silence to the entrance of the school.

“Do you have your car?” He asks, and when she nods, he says: “Can you drive? Want me to call yeh a cab?” 

“No, I’m fine. I told you I’m not that drunk” she shrugs, and she really can’t help but think how she wishes she was drunk instead. None of this would’ve happened, and she would be able to look him in the eye without feeling the embarrassment of his rejection. 

“Goodnight, then” he says, giving her a curt wave of the hand before heading off toward the parking lot.

“Goodnight” she says back, but he’s already left.

…

The weekend flies by and once Monday arrives, YN is dreading the school day. She almost debates calling in sick, but she knows it would only make the situation worse, because sooner or later she’d have to face a curly headed lad she wasn’t particularly keen on seeing, the embarrassment from that Friday night still vivid in her memory. She pondered long on that night, sipping wine directly from the bottle (for dramatic purposes of course), and she wondered what could she had done wrong to make him react that way. Men, in general, were always kind of difficult to understand, to her, so she figures he probably just wasn’t that aroused anymore. Which is fine, she has to tell herself that at least a million times, because the rejection is so painful and overall embarrassing she doesn’t know what to make of it.

When she walks in the classroom that day, to her surprise Aidi is already sitting at her desk, her pudgy hand wrapped around a brown crayon that she’s moving in circles on the paper, drawing something YN can’t quite make out.

It wasn’t weird, the school offered pre-school from 6 am to the parents that had to work early in the mornings, what was weird was her presence that early, something that in the school year had never occurred before.

She wonders if Harry did it on purpose. Maybe he didn’t want to face her, and she has to take a big breath before erasing that thought off her head. She shouldn’t care what he did. As many years before, he was never hers, and nothing had changed. She feels a little silly of course for thinking that he may have had a special kind of feeling for her, and despite him telling her that he did, she’s definitely convinced he was just playing around that night in his patio.

She makes her way to Aidi, and she crutches down next to her, “good morning, Aidi” she says softly as to not startle her.

“Mornin’ miss YN” she smiles a toothless grin, her hand not stopping her movements.

“You’re here early today, huh?”

“Yes” she nods, eagerly, “daddy’s at work”

“Oh” YN replies 

“This early?” Is everything she’d like to ask, but it’s really wrong prodding on this poor child to get informations about her dad, so she erases the question from her mind.

“What are yeh drawin’?” She asks instead, to shift the attention from the feared topic. Despite her means not always being the most pure hearted, YN loves Aidi. She thinks she’s such a precious little thing, and she genuinely loves spending time with her.

“’s a picture of daddy ’n me” she says, picking the drawing up in her hands and showing it to her teacher, “love him s’much”

YN smiles fondly at the picture, a small stick figure holding hands with a bigger one that she figures are respectively Aidi and Harry, the irrefutable mop of curly hair drawn with the brown crayon.

“I know he loves you too” she simply says, “very much!”

“Yeah” Aidi agrees, picking up a blue crayon to color the sky. 

…

It’s much later in the day, now, around four pm, and YN is waiting for the remaining kids to be picked up. The school is closing earlier today due to a mandatory rat disinfestation, that the parents were notified of about ten days before, and one by one every kid is picked up and ready to go home, every kid but one, she can’t help but notice. Aidi. 

She tries to not pay too much attention to the irony of it all, and she wonders to what means Harry would go to not see her. 

Maybe he forgot about the disinfestation? She doesn’t know, and despite fearing the answer to the question, she’s his daughter’s teacher. And she’s an adult. So she takes her phone from the back pocket and with trembling hands she looks through her contacts until she finds his name.

The feeling of calling someone you don’t really want to hear, and being aware of the mutualness of this deep rooted fear, is something that never really leaves. Not even at 26. Not even now that she has a big girl job and an apartment all alone. 

The piercing sound of the line ringing has her bringing a thumb to her mouth, biting on her nails nervously. She peeks at Aidi that’s playing with a doll on the floor, and she’s glad she appears to be unaware of the situation. A parent forgetting to pick you up is something that can scar you for life.

“‘llo?” She hears from the other side of the line, and she almost jumps in her place at the sound of his voice.

It took him a while to answer, which is uncommon for him, and she wonders what he was doing. Was he working? But then again, he said he was a writer, so she figures he must be working from home? “Hi, Harry… it’s YN” 

“I know who it is. I’m kinda busy, wha’s wrong?” He stresses, and YN feels her heart beat fast. 

“Oh, nothing… ’s just, when are you picking Aidi up?” 

“I don’t know” he says sternly, “i’m kind of out of town right now, I’ll be back in a couple of hours and take her then”

“You can’t do that, didn’t you get the email? The school’s closing early… rat disinfestation an’all tha’… ’s not like we have rats, don’t worry. ’s just mandatory, and the school is required to do…” 

“Fuck!” He interrupts, “it must have slipped my mind this morning. Fuck!” He repeats.

YN hears him shuffle on the other end of the phone, and after a brief moment she hears a quiet explanation of the situation to what she figures is another person, and a hurried ‘goodbye’.

He clears his throat, “are yeh still there?” 

“Yes, hi, yes” she rumbles.

“I’m gettin’ in the car now, it’ll take an hour I think. Forty minutes if I hurry. Can yeh… can she… is she allowed to stay? Fuck, — he seems to be talking to himself now, and she hears the loud sound of his car horn beeping — who even gave yeh a license! Fuckin’ hell” he shouts.

“Harry” she trails off, hoping to catch his attention, “’s okay. I can take her until you’re not here. We could go get some ice cream, or yogurt!! Whichever she’s craving more. Wait… Is she allowed to eat ice cream? Because I know this delicious place…”

“YN!” He interrupts her again, “please get to the point”

“Oh… i was just talkin’ about this ice cream place it’s nothing serious”

“‘nough with the ice cream already! Can you really take her? I can pay you, like I would a nanny… yeh know I’m proper loaded so money isn’t a problem.”

“What? I don’t want your money. ‘f course I can take her! She’s such a cutie, we’re gonna have so much fun!!!” She smiles happily.

“Thank you” he sighs, relieved, “i’ll be there in an hour, more or less” 

“Okay. Drive safe, you don’t have to worry ‘bout her, she’s safe” she reassures him. Because then again, Harry is Aidi’s father, and she knows how much he worries when it comes to her.

“Okay” he says, and he appears calmer now, “but no ice cream before dinner, YN!” 

She scoffs, “you’re no fun”.

Didn’t he say ‘enough with the ice cream’?

…

YN ended up buying the ice cream for both her and Aidi anyway. 

(There was something so delicious about eating ice cream during the winter, and one thing abut being a grown up, YN had found out, was being able to eat whatever she wanted and whenever she wanted)

And the biggest cone she’s ever seen, too. Two scoops of chocolate and one of strawberry for Aidi. Screw Harry. That’s what she thought when paying for it, now… she felt a little guilty, of course, but she’d begged Aidi to keep this ice cream run a secret between her and her teacher, using the term on purpose because she knows how much kids respect their teachers. 

So… she figured he’d never know. 

“’s good, moppet?” She cooed, picking up a couple of tissues from the dispenser in the middle of the table to wipe at her mouth. 

Aidi only nodded, too busy with her ice cream cone to pay much attention to YN.

“Oh no!” Aidi pouted once the ice cream started dripping from her cone to her hand and finally to her white coat and white tights, the candid fabric now dirty with dark stains. 

“Oh god!” YN exclaims, “wait, let me help”

YN picked up some other tissues and started wiping at Aidi’s hands, who switches the cone from one hand to the other while she cleans her, but maybe letting a four years old eat an ice cream cone wasn’t the best of ideas. 

“Daddy’s gonna get mad” Aidi giggles when YN started wiping at the stain on her clothes without much result.

“Probably… with me though” she agrees, nodding her head thoughtfully.

“Sooo mad” she keeps giggling, “he always say: no ice cream before dinner!” She repeats, trying to mock his stern voice but failing, and resulting in the most adorable thing YN had ever seen, and she can’t help but laugh too.

“He’s such a meanie” she smiles, tossing the dirty tissues on the table before her.

“I won’t tell, miss YN” Aidi reassures, and YN smiles once she sees her little pink tongue peeking out from her mouth and trying to lick the chocolate ice cream off the side of her mouth.

“Thank you bug” she says, chuckling, “but I think he’s gonna notice” she frowns, pointing to the state of Aidi’s white tights.

“Mhmh” she agrees, humming. 

“When is he back?” She asks after a while, her tummy full of ice cream, a satisfied look on her face. 

YN taps the screen of her phone on the table to check the time, “i think he’s almost here”

“How much time?” She asks, swaying her little legs from the edge of the chair.

“Mmmhh,” YN ponders, she’s certain a four years old conception of time isn’t the same as an adult, so she gestures with her hands a small portion. “This much”.

“Oh, ‘kay!” She exclaims happily, “so… almost” she nods proudly.

YN giggles at her antics and reciprocates her nod, “yes”.

After about half an hour, her and Aidi are tucked away in the warmth of her car, the heating full blasting, and YN even removed her coat to let Aidi snuggle in it. She’d fallen asleep almost instantly once her cheek touched the window, and YN decided it would be best to just wait for Harry in her car after the ice cream. She couldn’t possibly bring Aidi to her house, and Harry had previously told her it’d take him only an hour, so she figured that was the best option.

Despite Harry’s good resolutions, he called at around six, almost two hours after she’d called him from the school, but YN was glad he took his time and didn’t speed, as she had told him on the phone, Aidi was safe with her.

She’s driving in silence to his house now, where they accorded to meet, trying to drive the best she can to avoid potholes as to not wake Aidi up.

Harry’s already going to be mad about the ice cream, and he’s already avoiding her all together, so she certainly thought it wasn’t a good idea to leave him with a fussy toddler on top of all that.

Once she reaches his house, she parks near the curb and texts him that she’s outside. 

He opens the door right away, almost as if he was expecting them from behind it, looking from the peep hole, and YN notices how, despite him being home for at least a good five minutes, he was still wearing his coat and shoes.

“Hi” YN greets him softly, somehow the tenderness of the situation easing the embarrassment she felt prior.

She’s aware he was beating himself up for forgetting about his daughter.

“Hey” he says, walking to the car and opening the passenger’s side door, “she asleep?”

YN nods her head, “out like a light”

When Harry leans down to pick his daughter up, he cradles her to his chest between his arms, holing her tight and placing a long, harsh kiss on her hair.

YN felt her heart clench at the sight. She understood he felt guilty, and she wanted to tell him it wasn’t his fault, and he most certainly wasn’t the first parent to forget to pick up their kid from school, and had it been four days ago, she probably would’ve told him. But now, after what had happened, how was she supposed to? Harry made it clear he didn’t want anything to do with her, romantically and sexually, so was it her place to reassure him?

“I’m so sorry baby” he whispers against her hair, and YN has to refrain herself to stretch out a hand to comfort him. 

“Le’s get yah to bed, huh?” 

But when Harry goes to turn around, a small whimper comes from the little kid in his arms, and YN can see a small arm reaching towards her.

“Miss YN?” Aidi asks, voice laced with sleep, and she knuckles tiredly at her eyes when YN smiles at her.

“Daddy, want miss YN to read me a story” Aidi demands, looking up at her father with big, puppy eyes.

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m sure your teacher has more important things t…” 

“I’ll read to her, ’s fine” YN chimes in quickly, because honestly, she really didn’t want this day to end. And Aidi particularly requested her, so who was Harry to deny it?

“YN” Harry warns, sternly, but YN has already made her way towards them, tickling at Aidi’s neck softly, “I’ll read how many stories yah want, moppet”

YN tries not to feel too disappointed when she hears Harry’s quiet scoff.

…

“Goodnight, Aidi” YN says softly, placing the hard cover book on her little bedside table on her right.

She’d read Aidi and her stuffed animals three stories, one about a frog that was too scared to go to school, the other about a cute elephant that wanted to be a ballerina, and the last one (Harry said it was her favorite) about a princess bunny that enjoyed drinking tea with her friends.

Aidi had chuckled every time YN did different voices for the animals characters, and after Harry told her she had to read to her stuffed animals too (she had five tucked next to her), she had started asking them every now and then if they were enjoying the story or if she had to reread something they didn’t understand. 

Harry had watched the scene fondly, and his heart had grown in his chest, full with love he knew he wasn’t supposed to feel. It was nice, watching how tender YN was with his daughter, and despite the warm feeling in his limbs, he felt bitter. Because why couldn’t he have that. What was it so hard to love about him that not only the mother of his child had left, but also the girl he’d been in love with since college? 

After saying goodbye to Aidi, YN throws an awkward smile to him and walks out of the room, waiting just beside the wall. She knew Aidi wanted to be tucked in by her daddy, she had told her many times how he always said I love you, and she thought she’d give them some privacy.

She could still hear them from outside the room, the door still open, and she bit her bottom lip hard once she heard the sound of Harry’s kisses and Aidi’s quiet giggling.

“Daddy loves you so much, bug. Don’t ever forget that” she hears him say in a soft voice.

“How much?” She hears Aidi ask, and she picks up on that question she’d asked her about the time previously at the ice cream shop. This was probably something she did often with Harry, and she really had to refrain herself from peeking inside the room to watch them.

“This much!” He laughs. “How much does Aidi love her daddy?” 

“What!!!” She hears him say, probably feigning shock, “that little!” 

“Yes, only a little” Aidi playfully giggles, and then Harry makes a growling sound and: “the tickle monster’s gonna getcha!” 

Laughter erupts and it reverberates in the hallway, and YN feels silly for standing there, invading on their privacy, so she gets off the wall and walks quietly down the hallway, reaching the staircase.

She makes her way downstairs, and once she reaches the sitting room she picks up her coat from the armrest of the couch, tugging it close to her chest to try and warm herself from the imminent cold feeling running through her body.

She hears Harry clear his throat behind her, and she jumps a little in her place. 

“Didn’t hear yah there” she gasps, bringing one hand up to rest against her beating heart.

“YN, thank you for today. I really…” she watches as he shakes his head, avoiding her gaze, looking for the correct words to choose, “’m proper grateful fo’ what you did.”

“’s okay, Harry” she interrupts him, “you don’t have to thank me. I love Aidi, she’s such a sweet kid”

“She is” he agrees, “but still. Thank you.” 

She nods her head at his words and gulps, and she really should’ve left it at that. It was probably the best thing to do; what any normal and sane person would do. She should’ve just accepted his thank yous, put on her coat  and left, but she didn’t.

“I never should have kissed you, Harry” she starts, “I’m so sorry if I overstepped some boundaries, I thought…” she sighs, biting harshly on her bottom lip. She doesn’t know what possessed her to say that, maybe the urge to get things back to normal, because it had been three days since the kiss and she already missed how comfortable their relationship had gotten.

“YN…” he shakes his head, stopping her, “’s okay, ’s the past, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but… I shouldn’t have. I know I shouldn’t”

“What are you sayin’, YN… that you regret it? The kiss? Tha’s what you’re sayin’?” He scoffs, crossing his arms against his chest, almost like a pouty child.

“Well I… no, but… it was kind of embarrassing” she chuckles nervously, her fingers tightening their grip around the thick fabric of her coat.

“So you do regret it. ’s fine. I understood right away, clearly nothing has changed between us, you’re still really hard to read and I’m kind of tired of trying to understand you” he snaps, passing a hand through his hair frustratedly.

“I’m hard to read? — YN humorlessly chuckles, pointing an accusatory finger to him — You’re confusing! You tell me you liked me and then after I let you eat me out you leave me like that? That was so embarrassing, why would you do that?”

“Oh… are you sad you didn’t get to return the favor? You made me feel like a fuckin’ slut!” He says, exasperated. 

“Is that what you’re so mad about? That I called it a… favor?” Her brows pinch at the front, and she looks at him pointedly. 

“No, I’m mad because I love you and you’ve been playing with my feeling since we were fuckin’ 20 years old. But don’t worry. It’s clear now.” He snaps, somehow trying to keep his voice down to not wake Aidi.

YN feels her head spin at the conversation, and his words replay in her head, hauntingly.

“You love me?” She repeats in a small voice, but he seems to not get her question, because he keeps rambling: “I’ll get a nanny, okay? So we’ll never see each other again at school, and once the semester ends I’ll sign Aidi to another class, she’ll be so sad but it’s fine, it’ll pass. I’ll try and find someone before the end of the week, so we’ll never…”

“What the fuck are you talkin’ about?” She chuckles, because the situation is funny to her and she’s still hang up on those three words he said. She doesn’t miss the bewildered look that displays across his feature, his green eyes bright and reflecting in the dim yellowy light of his sitting room.

“Figured yeh’d laugh! ’s funny to you, innit?”

“It is a little bit funny. — she nods, grinning — I don’t want you to do any of that!” 

“YN… i don’t think I can see you everyday and…” he sighs, his sweater clad chest heaving.

“Harry” she stops him, raising a hand up to squeeze his bicep between her fingers, in a way to make sure he was giving her undefined attention “I don’t want you to do that because I don’t want to stop seeing you. I didn’t think you loved me”

“I literally told you! So many times! And I think I showed it too…” he shakes his head, but doesn’t remove his arm from her hold.

“I kissed you! I thought you understood!” She exclaims, pinching the fabric of his sweater with her fingers.

“How am I supposed to understand if you don’t tell me anything!” He says, and for the first time, he locks eyes with her, his gaze softening at the sight of her big eyes looking hopefully inside his.

She giggles despite the uncomfortable conversation, and Harry shakes his head, “You’re so frustrating” he admits, sighing heavily once again.

“And you’re silly! I let you eat me out!” She whispers, even if it’s just them, because the intimacy of that gesture didn’t go unnoticed by her.

He doesn’t say anything, his gaze unfocused.

“I’m sorry I never said it back. — she admits, sighing — I really liked you. I didn’t think you’d even noticed me… I didn’t realize how hard I was being. I’m really sorry.” 

“YN… ’s fine, I’ll get over it” he trails off, once again.

“No, listen to me, okay? I’m sorry. I genuinely didn’t know, back then. And I’m sorry I didn’t say anything when you told me weeks ago. I thought you weren’t being serious. But I liked you too, I really did. And I wasted a lot of years thinking you didn’t like me back, but it’s not your fault. I should’ve been more… more clear, maybe”

“Yeah, that would have saved us many years probably” he agrees, his heart in his throat, wary of her next words.

“Yeah” she agrees, “what I’m trying to say is that… I loved you and I still love you. If you still want me. I love you” she confesses, and she feels as if a weight has been lifted from her chest, the heaviness of her words finally setting her free after so many years of bottling up her own feelings.

“You really hurt me” he whispers, looking harshly into her eyes, and he bites the inside of his cheek before saying, “really hurt me. It’s unfair you’re telling me now”

YN swallows down her saliva, biting hard on her bottom lip, the harshness of his words hitting her, because truly, she never really thought about his feelings.

On the other hand, she’d like to tell him how much he had hurt her, and embarrassed her, but what good could it do? She already revealed the most important thing about herself: that she loved him. And she hoped it wasn’t too late. 

“It’s okay if you… if you don’t like me anymore” she shakes her head, scared of her own words, because she doesn’t really mean them. It’s not okay. She doesn’t want to give him away. She wants him. 

“I know ’s been a long time, but…” she continues, “I thought you had to know how I feel about you, because I never said it back. And I’m not a spiritual person for shit, but… I can’t help but think maybe this is another chance to make things right. I had to tell you. I couldn’t not tell you. And I’m really sorry for hurting you. I’ll leave now, if you don’t want me here…”

“We can pretend this conversation never happened and just… you don’t have to make Aidi change classes, I like her” she says, and it comes out in a plea, really, because she doesn’t think she has it in her to lose them now. If he wants to pretend this heartfelt conversation never happened, she’ll be sad, but she’ll do it. For the sake of their “friendship”. Because she doesn’t want to lose him again.

Harry seems to ponder a bit on her words, and in that space of time she’s almost ready to put her coat on and leave, as she should’ve done before, and she’s almost there. She’s on the point of slipping her coat on, but Harry raises one hand and takes her coat from her hold, throwing it on the couch beside them. 

“I don’t want you to leave” he whispers, taking a step in front of him, they’re so close now their chests are almost touching, “don’t leave.”

“Okay” she nods, “I won’t.”

 He leans down to be closer to her face and he presses his lips on her forehead, not quite kissing her, more like a comforting presence, and she feels the tenderness of his gesture. 

“You really do make me go mad” he sighs against her skin, his arms sneaking around her waist, squeezing her against him. “But I love you too”

YN feels her inside warm at his words, and she wraps her arms around him too, squeezing him tightly. She was never good with words, and she’s glad he understood anyway, despite her messy attempt at confessing her feelings.

She looks up to him then, resting her chin on his chest, and he leans down to press his lips against hers. This kiss is much different than the last one, much more soft and less hungry, and even when he slips his tongue to lick at her bottom lip, there’s nothing but tenderness in his gestures.

He brings one hand up to caress her cheek, his fingertip light as a feather against her skin, and YN feels herself melt in his hold. The gesture makes her think back about that time on the bus, how he had touched her so softly, almost scared he’d ruin her, and she thinks about how much things have changed, but mostly nothing had, because he loved her then and he loves her now! 

His tongue brushes against hers, and she sighs into his mouth happily. 

When he parts from her mouth, he gives her another small peck, his lips wet against hers, and “taste like chocolate” he hums against her lips.

“Mmh, about that…” she ponders, “you might have to buy Aidi a new coat, don’t think those stains are gonna come out” 

“Yeah? I thought I told yah no ice cream ‘fore dinner?”

YN laughs a laugh through her nose, and leans in to kiss him again, “you love me”, and there’s nothing but adoration in her eyes.

“I do” he agrees, looking at her fondly.

“And by the way, don’t worry about the coat” he smiles, “reckon I’ve gotten quite good at doin’ laundry, there’s no stain that can resist me” 

“I’m really proud of you” she cackles jokingly, “i remember your mum used to do it for yah”

“Heyyyy” he pouts, “only sometimes”

She raises on her tiptoes to press her lips to his in a brief peck, but when she goes to part from him, he only squeezes her tighter against him to deepen the kiss.

“Let’s go upstairs” he breaths out, “you still have a favor to return” he says playfully, and one hand travels down to her bum to pinch at the skin.

She swats at his chest but turns around, in a hurry to reach the stairs, “yeah” she agrees, turning to look at him with a mischievous smile splayed across her mouth “we wasted enough time already”

“Tell me about it” he mumbles, biting his bottom lip as he watches her sly smirk, “thank god you finally came to your senses”

They both laugh at his words, and Harry follows her upstairs to his room, picking her up and throwing her on his bed. That night, he finally gets to kiss all over her body, as he had dreamt many many times, not only in college, but even then, when he thought she was too far away to reach despite seeing her every morning when he left his daughter at school.

Harry, too, isn’t a spiritual person for shit, but maybe, he allows himself to think, this is what it means to be loved, and he finally doesn’t have to wonder anymore what’s so hard to love about him, because, despite not knowing, he’s always been loved, in the years he’d known her, and YN, in the arch of their relationship, and in it’s imminent future, will make sure to tell him that, many times, and the memory of all the wasted years, will remain, thankfully, what it always was: a memory.  

Just wanted to take this small space to thank you all for liking and reblogging the first part, you have no idea how happy you made me, so thank you so so so much 😭 the story is over but i can do updates in the future if you guys want <3, i really hope part 2 didn't disappoint, feedback is very much appreciated. love you all

🏷️ taglist: @indierockgirrl @onlystylesss28 @gemofthenight @summertime-pills @lomlhstyles @sicklscream @watarmelon212

[nathanbatemanfucker]

Kinktober Day 7 (& 8): Soft & Slow (Cockwarming)

pairing: college!miguel o’hara x f!reader

contents: 18+/NSFW/MINORS DNI, smut, rivals to lovers, teasing

wc: 735

an: wrote this for the sweetest most lovely @campingwiththecharmings, i hope you enjoy bb 🥰

kinktober masterlist | misc. masterlist

“Are you giving up?” Miguel asks you after several moments of silence.

“What? No!” You glare down at him breathlessly.

Why does the man who grinds your gears like it’s job have to be so attractive? Smooth skin, deep brown eyes, the cheekbones of Adonis. It pisses you off, but at least he can make you feel good. That’s all this is, all you want it to be. It’s sex. Just sex. Or maybe that’s what you keep telling yourself.

His grip on your hips tightens, shifting them up and down slowly. The sweet drag of his cock makes your mind blank, a shiver skating down your spine. He watches you with hooded eyes, drinking in every expression and sound that leaves you. He loves you like this, warming his cock just on the edge of pleasure as he quizzes you over and over again on this week’s physics lecture.

“Then answer the question,” He says, eyes glittering with mischief.

“I-I’m thinking,” You insist, though that couldn’t be farther from the truth. He’s been teasing you for a while now— keeping you pinned on his cock with a thrust or roll of hips here and there. You’re dizzy and needy, all you can focus on is him. On him making you cum.

“About how good my cock feels?”

“Fuck you.”

He laughs beneath you, loud and full, and your breath catches at the way it sends him a hair deeper. “You can’t think that was a good comeback.”

You groan, swatting playfully at his chest, “Please, Mig, can’t we just get off first?”

He sits up in a move that makes you whimper, nuzzling his nose against yours, “Where’s the fun in that? You could just admit that I’m smarter. I’ll fuck you however you want after that.”

“You fucking wish.”

Snaking his hand between your slick bodies he presses two fingers to your clit as he continues to goad you, “We both know it’s true, c’mon angel, don’t you want me to make you cum?”

“Yes,” You moan, head falling to the side. You don’t care anymore, you just need more. You need him.

“Yes, what?”

“You’re smarter, just fuck me. Please.”

He holds you tight to his chest, pressing you into the mattress and pinning your hands down above your head. While he’s fucking you earnestly now, his hips grind against yours at a leisurely pace, pressing against that sensitive spot inside you. All you can do is gasp and groan beneath him, listening to the filth that pours out of his mouth.

I’ve got you. There you go. So cock drunk, look at you. Cum for me, honey.

You do just that, cumming for him with a high pitched wail that he cuts off with a kiss. Your mind whirls, so much so that you don’t notice when he joins you in your peak, or when he rolls to lay beside you, still holding you close.

“I take it back. You don’t play fair,” You quip once your mind returns to you, breath still labored.

He raises a brow at you, cupping your face with his hand to tilt your chin up, “When has this rivalry ever been fair?”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“And clearly, you need some tutoring,” He teases, grin widening when you roll your eyes at him. “Stay— I’ll make us dinner.”

“Dinner,” You repeat skeptically, looking over at him to gauge his seriousness.

“Yes, two people eating a meal together at night. A common occurrence, querida.”

“Like…like a date?” You ask softly.

Miguel’s gaze flatters— something you’ve never seen before. He’s the spokesman for confidence, even if he’s wrong he’s always ready to assure you that he can do better. But right now…he looks shy. It throws you off.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, like a date.”

Silence spreads between you two. You have to be cautious about this— what if it’s one of his jokes? A way to get in your head.

“What happened to this being a rivalry?”

“I don’t know, maybe I’m tired of fighting,” He looks up at you, and there’s something soft, something gooey about the way he’s looking at you.

Your mouth pulls up into a shy smile as you say, “Well. Dinner’s not gonna cook itself.”

He snorts, shaking his head as he rises out of the bed, shimming into his boxers. Leaning down he kisses you, murmuring into your mouth, “Stay put smart ass.”

oscar: @honeybrowne, @pastanoodles11, @steven-grants-world, @stevengrcnt, @greg-montgomery, @lesbianhotch, @mccn-bcys, @marc-spectorr, @whatthefishh, @simpforbritgents, @maisondenachtai, @silversprings-mp3, @flightlessangelwings

[absurdthirst]

Accidentally Mrs. Bravo {Dieter Bravo x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 24.8k

Warnings: Drug use, alcohol, dub con due to spiked drinks, vaginal sex, oral sex (male and female receiving), vaginal fingering, Dieter being a sub, face sitting, period oral (Dieter has his red wings), hand jobs, angst, Dieter being a sassy asshole. 

Comments: Being PR for Dieter Bravo is a nightmare, the idea of him going to Vegas for a birthday weekend absolutely horrifies you. Even more when it’s suggest you go with him. It’s going to be horrible, you just know it. Especially when you wake up married to him. 

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers​

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

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

When Dieter told his team he wanted to go to Vegas for his birthday, you had told him no. As his PR manager, Dieter and Vegas are a bad combination. God knows what he’d do when fuelled by drugs, gambling and endless booze. Surrounded by people with camera phones and men and women who would want him to fuck them. Maybe get knocked up. You get a headache even thinking about it. When his manager suggested you accompany him to make sure he says out of trouble, you protested and put your foot down, telling her that you hate Vegas. It’s a cesspool of bad decisions. However, the next thing you know you’re on a private jet going to Vegas while Dieter snorts coke off of the mahogany table while his “friends” drink champagne. You know this is going to end in Disaster.

Inhaling deeply, Dieter throws his head back, letting the endorphins rush through his system and he lets out a loud whoop. “Fuck, that’s some good shit!” He crows and looks around, spotting you sitting in one of the plush leather chairs across from the couch with a sour look on your face. “You want some?” He asks, offering you the one hundred dollar bill he had rolled up to snort the coke with. “Maybe it’ll get that stick out of your ass.”

You watch him with disgust. You might have been hired to handle his PR but the man makes it a never ending job. Being caught with prostitutes, arrested with coke possession and a general bad attitude with paps has made you have many a sleepless night. This trip will be no exception. “No, thank you.” You respond coolly, shaking your head. “The stick will remain firmly in my ass for the entire trip.” 

Dieter chuckles, pulling his hand back, “I bet you like having something up your ass.” His joke makes you roll your eyes and you cross your legs, looking out of the window.

Huffing at your lack of appreciation for his joke, Dieter passes the rolled up bill off to one of his friends and frowns at you. “Why are you here if you don’t want to have fun?” He whines. “You should have stayed in L.A.” He doesn’t want you here. All you do is complain about his behavior, his manners, the way he dresses. He wants to relax and have fun, not be nagged to death by a fish wife. If he wanted that, he would get married.

“I don’t want to be here but your team - including me - thought it would be best to come with you to control what happens. The last thing you need with your new movie coming out is a mug shot.” You tell him. “Besides, I have fun. My fun just doesn’t involve doing copious amounts of drugs, having sex with prostitutes, and drinking more tequila than what’s available in the entire country of Mexico.” 

Dieter scoffs, “what do you do to have fun? Read?” His words make you bristle, swallowing down your retort that reading would be better than spending him in his company. 

“Just behave yourself and we won’t have any issues.” You finally respond, glancing around at his “friends.” All people who are here because of what he can give them, not because they like him as a person.

“I always behave myself.” Dieter gives you an offended look and shakes his head. “Just because I don’t adhere to your version of behaving doesn’t mean I don’t behave.” He chuckles and looks around the plane. “Haven’t you ever just had fun? Fuck what they say or what they think? Just be yourself?”

You try not to react, but his words hit. You went to college for media and you ended up getting a job right out of college with a PR firm. You needed to prove yourself and that meant working all hours. You’ve never really let your hair down and done whatever you wanted. You huff, shaking your head at him. “You don’t behave. You make my job so much harder. I’d hate to see you when you’re not behaving.”

“Have I flashed my dick at the paps?” He asks you, titling his head and smiling in amusement at the mental image of doing just that. “Or come up with some love child with a prostitute? Because I’ve fucked a lot of women. It could have happened.”

God, you hate this man. He’s so self indulgent it infuriates you. He does what he wants, when he wants. Damn the consequences. “Just try to not let either of those things happen during this weekend.” You reach for your phone, deciding to check your emails while he continues to indulge. 

When the pilot announces the plane will be landing soon, you steel yourself for what will no doubt be an exhausting weekend. The plane lands and the limos are waiting on the tarmac. Dieter’s assistant - who luckily has the weekend off - had arranged every detail even down to the baggie of coke waiting for him in the limo.

“Vegas baby!” Dieter squints and nods his head so that his sunglasses flip down onto his nose and he pushes them up. He wraps his arm around the girl he had met just this morning who had said she would be willing to go to Vegas with him. He smirks as he looks back at you, “try to keep up.” He tells you before he and the bottle blonde he’s wrapped around stumble down the plane’s stairs onto the tarmac.

You scoff in disgust, watching him squeeze the woman’s ass when she gets into the limo. He’s wearing sunglasses and it’s fucking nighttime. What an asshole. You get into the limo, sitting in the far corner and he has already found the baggie. This is going to be the weekend from hell. The woman kisses his jaw and he manages to snort some coke off of her tits when she pushes them together. “Classy.” You mutter, ignoring the entourage.

Dieter doesn’t even pay attention to you, too busy motor boating Cindy, or was it Kathy? He doesn’t know, nor does he really care. He just wants to get to the hotel and get another bottle of champagne. “We should hit the club!” Someone suggests, and like the easily distracted creature that he is, Dieter latches onto the idea. 

“A strip club!” He agrees happily. 

You shake your head. “No. No strip clubs.” You put your foot down. You’re not going into a strip club with Dieter Bravo. 

“It’s my fucking birthday. We are doing what I want.” Dieter growls, pissed that you’re doing everything you can to ruin his birthday weekend. 

“No strip clubs.” You repeat, crossing your arms.

“Go sit at the hotel if you don’t want to go.” Dieter huffs. “This limo is going to a strip club.” He lowers the glass between the back and the driver and grins. “Hey Buddy, take us to the best fucking strip club in Vegas. ‘Kay?”

You huff, knowing you have no choice. You can’t leave him be. He would run riot in Vegas. “You don’t want to change?” You ask, “or check into the hotel?” You frown, knowing he’d requested the best suite at Caesars. 

“No. I want to get this party started. We can change later.” Dieter declares. 

“Later? It’s nine.” You check your watch. 

“It’s early for Vegas.” Dieter shrugs and you sigh, knowing you have no choice.

Fueled by cocaine and champagne, Dieter is the first out of the limo when it comes to a stop. He likes the look of the place, the sound of the music is loud but he doesn’t care. Soon enough he will be watching women dance. “Hey, are there men here too?” He asks, suddenly curious. That would be cool. A strip club that caters to men and women, or people who like men and women.

You exhale deeply, trying to remain calm as you follow the group into the strip club. It's loud and full of bodies - both men and women. Some partly dressed, some naked as the day they were born. A half naked man walks past and you fluster when he winks at you. You have never been somewhere like this and you're no virgin but your life has been pretty vanilla.

It’s nothing but VIP for the group. Even if Dieter wasn’t recognized, a few folded up bills passed to the server assures that you are quickly seated at the best tables. “Uh huh, I want a dance from her and him.” Dieter lowers his glasses and leers over the rim with a grin on his face as a pair of dancers walk past. He turns to watch the rear view and catches sight of you. “I’ll even buy you a dance.” He tells you, blowing you a kiss. “Get you to loosen up. Tuck a few bills in a G-string.”

You roll your eyes and have a sip of the glass of champagne. You won’t get drunk but a glass or two will help you deal with this asshole all night. Some people ask why you work for him if you can’t stand him but honestly, he’s a PR nightmare and you always said you wanted the hardest cases for a challenge. He’s definitely been the hardest. “Gee thanks.” You respond sarcastically. 

The woman Dieter brought along is a little offended that he wants a dance and she slaps his chest ‘playfully’ and says “what about a private dance from me baby?”

Dieter rolls his eyes and tugs her close. “Of course I want a private dance from you.” He coos, leaning in and presses his lips to her neck and makes her giggle when he playfully bites her. “Later. We’ll have our own little strip tease.” Later on he has no clue what he will be doing, but she’s fun and he will hopefully get lucky. He’s getting laid for his birthday. Or at least a blowjob. “Don’t you want to shove some bills into his g-string?”

You huff, deciding you might as well do something fun for once. You make a grabby gesture and he grins, handing you the bills. You call a man over and he saunters, moving his hips and he holds out his hand. “Oh, I don’t want a dance. Here, take this. Put it towards your education or your rent or food or whatever. Just - take it.” You shove the notes into the man’s hand who is shocked.

Pouting, Dieter rolls his eyes. “God, you are no fun.” He leans back and crosses his arms over his chest and shoots you a glare. “He was hot, he might have enjoyed the stick in your ass.” He’s pissed that he didn’t get to see the man dance, or see if you would fluster and loosen up. He doesn’t care about the money. It’s about having a good time.

You scoff, “you act like he wouldn’t have been nice to me because he’s getting money. All of these people are here because of your money, Bravo. They aren’t your friends, they want your wallet. Especially her.” You point to Cindy, Kathy, whatever her fucking name is. “I’m going to the bathroom.” You huff, standing up and grabbing your purse. You need to calm down and compose yourself if you’re gonna survive an entire weekend of this.

For a split second, Dieter’s face falls, hurt shining in his eyes before he shakes himself slightly and blinks it away. You’re just pissed that you’re here instead of locked away in your depressing house with whatever boring ass book you were going to read. The waitress comes over and he orders a magnum of champagne and glasses for everyone, including you. You’re at his birthday weekend, you are damn well going to celebrate,

When you come back from the bathroom, there’s champagne flowing and you see the glass waiting there for you. You shouldn’t drink it but you have to. You won’t endure tonight without a drink or two…or maybe three. You sit down and pick up the glass, downing it. You choke on the bubbles and Dieter cheers, clapping his hands. “Now we are fucking talking.” 

Little do either of you know that one of his entourage snuck something into your drinks. You sway slightly, a giggle escaping your lips. “Wow. That champagne was so fucking good.” You feel tingly, like you’ve had ten drinks instead of two.

“So you are human.” Dieter gets up and moves around Cindy or Kathy and wedges himself in beside you. His grin is wide and happy and he clinks his glass against yours and takes a large sip of his bubbly. “It’s nice to see it. I didn’t think that I would ever witness you ‘let down your hair’.”

“Don’t get too excited, Bravo. The night is young and I am - I am supposed to be watching over you.” You can’t help the giggle that escapes your lips. You lean against Dieter, all hatred for him seems to have disappeared and you have another glass of champagne. “Happy birthday Bravo.” You cheer, suddenly excited for the night. 

****

You groan at the bright light that shines into the room, your head is throbbing and you can barely open your eyes. Fuck, what happened last night. You don’t remember a thing. You wince, realizing you must’ve drank way too much, and you shift, turning over away from the light and you hit something. Without opening your eyes, you reach out, gasping at the feel of hot skin and you freak out, opening your eyes. “Oh fuck. Oh fuck.” You panic, seeing the familiar tattoos on your boss’s back.

Dieter groans, hearing someone’s panicked voice and shifts, turning over and covering his eyes with his hand. “Throw up on the floor.” He grunts, not wanting to lay in puke if whoever he took to bed is about to get sick. He doesn’t open his eyes and groans again, wanting to go back to sleep.

You slap him, “wake the fuck up!” You slap him again. Shrieking when you realize you’re naked. “You need to wake up now, Dieter. I- we are in bed and - and naked.” You look at him and frown when you see the gold band on his hand. “What the fuck is that?” You reach for his hand, pulling it away from his face and that’s when you see the diamond in your left hand. “What the fuck? Wake up!” You slap him with his own hand.

“Ow! Ow! What the fuck?” Dieter bolts upright and throws his hands up defensively. His eyes are wide and he looks at you like you are crazy. “What the fuck are you doing? I’m sleeping!” He isn’t questioning why you are naked and in his bed. He doesn’t even really care, but dammit, he was enjoying the sleep. And you rudely interrupted it.

“Sleep? How can you sleep when a) we are in bed naked together, and b) WE ARE APPARENTLY FUCKING MARRIED!” You shout, grabbing his hand to show him the new gold band and holding up your own hand. “Oh God. This is - it’s gotta be a joke, right? We aren’t married. We just bought rings.” You try to reason, knowing no matter how drunk you could be, you wouldn’t marry him.

His eyes widen and he looks at your hand and then back at your face for a moment before he busts out laughing. “Oh good job!” He crows. “You had me for a second. And showing me your tits to sell it? Genius.” He chuckles and looks around, spotting a glass of champagne on the nightstand and twists around to grab it, swallowing down the flat champagne. It’s disgusting, but his mouth is dry and he needs something. He pulls the glass down from his lips. “You should stop the bullshit babysitting and act, sweetheart.”

You narrow your eyes at him. "What the fuck are you talking about?" You growl, pissed that he thinks this is some kind of joke. "Do you think this is funny? Bravo, this is - oh God. I think I'm gonna be sick." You scramble to get off of the bed, racing to the bathroom and you kneel down just as you throw up. You gag and cough until you're done before you slump down on the floor, pressing your forehead against the cool porcelain. You inhale deeply and look down, eyes widening at the crusted liquid on your inner thighs. "Oh shit." You hiss, reaching between your legs. You stand up, rinsing your mouth, and stumble back into the bedroom. "We had sex. We had sex." You're in shock.

“What?” Dieter frowns, shaking his head. “You wouldn’t have sex with me. Believe me, I’ve asked.” He had asked you the first day he met you and you had scoffed and acted revolted so he had never asked again. Although you’re standing in front of him naked, and that is something he thought he would never see. “You just probably spilled something on yourself.” He rolls his eyes and flops back onto the bed.

You shake your head, tears in your eyes that he doesn't believe you. "I know what dried cum looks like, you asshole." You spit and search around the room for your phone, knowing you need to find out what happened. When you find your phone, you see the notifications. Opening the first one, your eyes widen. "Oh shit." You read the headline, "Oscar Winning Dieter Bravo Gets Married in Vegas." You scroll until you see the video. "Dieter." You take the phone over to him, hitting play.

A picture is worth a thousand words and apparently a video is worth a million. You and Dieter are obviously intoxicated and grinning happily at each other. In the video, he grabs your ass and hauls you closer while the two of you kiss, tongues tangled and the group that Dieter had brought is cheering and clapping. Pulling away, Dieter looks around. “Now, I’m going to fuck my wife!” He yells out, grabbing your hand and dragging you towards the limo - presumably to take you back to the hotel. “Shit.” Dieter groans, knowing his manager is going to kill him. You probably didn’t sign a prenup.

You cannot believe this. You don't know what happened. You vowed you wouldn't have more than a few drinks, how the hell did you end up blacked out and married to Dieter? "Shit." You echo, wondering what the hell you're gonna do. That video is all over the internet and you know that this press is going to be impossible to tamper. The phone rings and you groan at the name of Dieter's manager flashing on the screen. "Hey Alex. How are you?" You ask, trying to act nonchalant. 

"How am I? How am I? You fucking got married to Dieter. You were hired for PR and you orchestrate the biggest fuck up in the history of fuck ups."

“Hey.” Dieter huffs, hearing her screech over the phone. “I wouldn’t say it’s the biggest fuck up.” He throws the covers off his body, obviously not going to be able to go back to sleep and climbs out of the bed, stretching with a groan. Completely unconcerned with his nudity as he stumbles to the bathroom to take a piss.

You watch him walk into the bathroom, jaw dropping, and you realize now why there's an ache between your thighs. "Not a fuck up? You got married! To your PR manager. Jesus Christ Dieter. You need to fix this." Alex says your name and you bite your lip, unsure of how you can fix it. 

"I- I don't know - he can't just say it was a joke. There's..." You rack your brain. "There's one way but he's gonna hate it." You look towards the bathroom. 

"I don't care. Just fucking fix it. He has a new movie coming out and we don't need the studio on our ass because he has fucked up - because you have fucked up." She hangs up and you stare at the phone, wanting to cry at this entire fucked up situation.

The best thing about Dieter is his ability to go with the flow. Or at least he thinks he does. Often he’s just too strung out, but right now, he’s finding this hilarious. “Just call me Brittany.” He chuckles into the mirror before he groans and reaches for the bottle of antacids that he keeps in his bag, along with his illicit drugs. Getting older sucks. He pops four into his mouth and chews them, reaching down and scratching his balls while he tries to remember if he did anything else last night besides marrying you. That can’t have been the worst thing he did.

You know what the solution is but fuck, you hate it, you really fucking hate it. You grab the shirt he was wearing, throwing it on without care, and you walk towards the bathroom. "We can't get an annulment." You declare. Dieter frowns, turning to look at you, his hand still scratching his balls. 

"Why not?" He huffs. 

"We have to stay married. If we get an annulment now, it will be recorded and the press will get hold of it and it will be a bigger story than it already is. If we stay married, even on paper, for six months or so, we can get an annulment and no one will even care to look because it will be old news."

“We can just say it was an accident.” Dieter shrugs and smirks. “What happens in Vegas and all that.” You shake your head. 

“No Dieter, not what happens in Vegas. That’s the problem!” You shriek and he winces at how loud you get. 

“Jesus, there’s the stick again.” He grumbles and sighs, trying to ignore the fact that you are wearing his t-shirt. “I don’t want to be married to you,” he whines. “Your going to tell me I can’t have sex while we’re married.”

“I won’t be married to you in any way other than a piece of paper. We are going to have to suffer each other for the time being. Once we get the annulment, you will give me a reference so I can move on from this shit show. You - you can fuck whoever you want but you won’t be doing it in public. We need people to think we are really married. You need to act like we are actually married, not just a terrible mistake. You need this to work otherwise you will be a laughing stock. With the cocaine possession and DUI, you can’t afford another fuck up.” You warn him, knowing that the last thing you want is to be married to him but you need this job more, you need that reference more than anything.

Dieter huffs, knowing that you aren’t wrong, but it’s all bullshit. “What the fuck, you don’t do your job and I’m the one punished?” He gripes, hating the entire idea. Especially where you said you would be leaving him. He hates when people leave him. “How did Ms. ‘Holier than thou, stick in her ass’ manage to get married to a man she can’t stand in a Vegas wedding chapel?”

“I don’t - I don’t remember anything past going to the bathroom in the strip club. I - I didn’t do my job? How dare you! I tried to prevent something like this but you bought me the drink and it was poured and - oh fuck. Do you think- do you think our drinks were spiked? Oh fuck. That explains it. One of your goddamn gold digging groupies spiked my drink and now I’m - oh God. I knew I shouldn’t have come along. Oh fuck. Dieter - we got married and had sex and I don’t even remember.” You freak out again, hands shaking as the weight of this settles on you.

Dieter frowns, while he loves using drugs and thinks that you could personally benefit from the occasional snort or toke, he doesn’t like the idea of being unknowingly drugged. Again, completely unconcerned with the fact that he’s naked, he walks over to you. “It’s okay.” He hesitates to reach for you, but then he does, pulling you against him and hugging you. Only slightly awkwardly considering you are just wearing his shirt and it is morning. “I’m sure there’s a video of it.”

You are so distraught that you actually wrap your arms around him and allow him to comfort you. Only for a moment until you realize that you’re married to him. “We need a game plan. What’s done is done and you don’t need anymore bad press so we gotta stay married.” You declare as you pull away from his embrace.

Dieter groans, hating that you keep saying that. Because he knows that means that his fun in Vegas will be over if you have your way. “Just lay low.” He shrugs his shoulders and turns around, wanting to look for the pills that he had yesterday. He spots a silk robe and snatches it up, throwing it on but not bothering to close it. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It’s not - we got married. It is a big deal. It’s a massive deal. I never - I wanted to get married and not get divorced. I wanted to be in love with the man I married. Not - not just - this mess. Oh God. My parents are going to kill me. Everyone expects you to be this reckless but not me. I’m the sensible one. Always have been. I’ve always had to be good.” You admit, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Dieter turns around and stares at you, amazed that you are so…worried about what your parents are going to say. “You’re legal, right?” He demands, squinting at you as if he could tell your age by staring at you. “Worried about your parents? Why? What are they doing for you? Are they supporting you?”

“Of fucking course I’m legal, you idiot.” You huff, “my parents love me and I love them and they are going to be mad when I tell them I accidentally got married in Vegas to a drug addicted actor.” They had told you that moving to L.A was a bad idea and now you’re inclined to agree. 

“Who cares what they think?” Dieter scoffs, finally finding the baggie. 

“Who cares? I do!” You choke, tears stinging in your eyes again. 

“Then just don’t tell them.” Dieter says, like it’s the easiest thing to do. 

You shake your head, “I can’t lie to my parents. I can’t do it.” You watch Dieter roll his eyes. 

“You can. It’s easy. Just tell them you got married for real and they’ll be disappointed when their favorite son-in-law asks for a divorce in six months time but hey, what can you do? It’s fucking life.” You watch him, knowing your parents are gonna wonder what you say in him compared to your clean cut exes.

Dieter pops three of the pills in his mouth and offers you a couple. “Want some?” He asks and you scoff, shaking your head and looking at him in disgust. 

“Shit like that got us into this situation!” 

He rolls his eyes and closes the bag, shoving it in the pocket of the ridiculous pink silk robe. It only comes down to his thigh and doesn’t cover anything since he hasn’t closed it. “Just release a statement saying that after spending a night with you in Vegas, I realized that I couldn’t deny my feelings anymore.” He tells you. “Or say that we’ve been secretly dating for months and just decided to go for it.”

You are surprised he’s suddenly agreed to go along with it. Your eyes dip down to his impressive - even flaccid - cock and realize why he’s so obnoxious. “I think the secretly dating one is the way to go but you have been out with most of the men and women in L.A in the past six months. We gotta explain that.” Your mind whirls with the best way to cover this up. Your PR mind taking over to try and distract you from the panic that you also had sex with your boss. One thing at a time.

He shrugs, obviously unconcerned about the details. “We’re poly.” He chuckles, knowing that with as stiff as you are, there is no way that you would ever be in situation like that. “Or that it was just a front. Throw people off.” He grunts and scratches his belly. “I’m hungry, are you hungry? You should order us breakfast.” He switches topics suddenly and looks at you expectantly. “Doesn’t the wife take care of her hubby?” He teases with a smirk.

You huff, walking over to the phone and you grab the room service menu. “Aren’t husbands supposed to stop their stupid fake friends from roofieing their staff?” You retort, glad that you only have one more day of this before you return to L.A and you can get away from him. His assistant can run around doing this shit. You order a healthy breakfast, making him pout, and you smirk, “I’m looking after you baby.”

“Look after me by ordering bacon.” Dieter grumbles and sighs when you just lift a brow. “I’m going to shower.” Despite the rumors, he did shower. He just dresses like he doesn’t give a fuck. Because he doesn’t. Shooting you a grin, he waggles his brows. “Wanna join?”

You wrinkle your nose, “absolutely not. You haven’t even asked if I’m on birth control. We had sex last night. I take the pill, by the way.” You inform him and he wrinkles his nose. 

“Too many chemicals. You should just check your basal temperature.” 

You shake your head, “how have you not knocked someone up yet?”

Dieter shrugs, not bothering to tell you that he normally does use a condom. Doubting you would believe him. “Guess I’m just lucky like that.” He eyes you again, seeing the streaks of his dried cum on the inside of your thighs. “You wanna take a bath while I shower then? I know you want to clean away the evidence.” His tone is oddly hurt and he purses his lips at you.

You nod, deciding that a bath sounds nice, especially since your body aches. God knows what he did to you last night. You follow him to the bathroom, bending over to turn on the bath and there’s a flash in your mind of Dieter bending you over the bath, his cock buried deep inside of you. You gasp, making Dieter look over at you. 

“You okay?” He frowns and you nod. 

“I’m fine.” You choke, grabbing the bubble bath.

Rolling his eyes, Dieter leans into the marbled shower to turn on the water. It wouldn’t be so horrible being married to you for a few months if you weren’t such a stick in the mud. You’re hot, he had been grateful that he was battling a headache when you were standing in front of him naked. Or maybe he had too much sex last night. Maybe that was the reason he wasn’t popping a boner at the sight of your tits and bare cunt, because he likes the look of you. “I guess we go home this afternoon?” He asks with a pout. It’s his fucking birthday today and he’s gotten yelled at, scolded and there is zero chance of getting a birthday blowjob from you.

You ponder it for a moment, realizing that you can’t just go home. It would look bad. You need to be seen out and about. “We can’t go home today. It’s best if we go out. We are gonna get swarmed but the public needs to see you and your wife out and happy.I’m sure even you can manage to act like you actually love me. Happy birthday by the way.” You offer him a smile despite being so mad that the thing you tried to prevent had happened.

Your smile throws him for a loop and he just stares at you for a moment. It might be the second time that you’ve smiled at him, a nice smile, since you’ve become his PR person. “Thanks.” He swallows back the urge to make a comment, something dirty that you wouldn’t appreciate and just nods. “Okay. Be seen. We can do that.” He shrugs. “What would be good?”

You test the water before stripping off his shirt to sink into the hot water, a moan escaping your lips at how good it feels on your aching muscles. “I’m thinking we go to dinner. No entourage. Then we go dancing. We gotta appear close and I doubt you’d be spending your birthday apart from your wife. This is just until the news has died down so we can divorce.”

He rolls his eyes at how boring that sounds. No doubt dinner will be talking about how much of a fuck up you think he is and the dancing will be some sedate oldies music where no one there is under one hundred. He shrugs off the robe and steps under the shower spray with a groan. “Sounds great, grandma.” He quips. “Senior specials? Gotta get there before five.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes. “No. I’ll book dinner for nine and then we can go to a club. Not a strip club.” You huff, swaying your hands through the water. His sarcasm has pissed you off since it’s technically his fault that you are in this situation. “I gotta go out and get something nice for a club since everything I brought with me is for a nice dinner and not the club. I guess I gotta dress the part of Mrs. Bravo.” The words make you feel sick but what can you do? You need to keep your job and the way to do that is to create the narrative that you’re in love with the man. As disgusting as he can be, you hope you find something good in him. He’s selfish, indulgent, and completely self obsessed. Traits you would never want to marry, yet here you are.

“Got it, you don’t like strip clubs.” He feels guilty, something that he hates feeling. He doesn’t know why, he didn’t spike your drink, but you are stuck with him because of it. “Take my card when you go shopping.” He tells you, shampoo in his hair. “This is my fault, so you should at least be able to buy what you want until it’s done.”

You want to argue and say you can afford your own things but honestly, you deserve something nice since this wasn't your fault. It was his fake fucking friends. You wash up and wash your face, standing up from the bath just as he steps out of the shower, reaching for the towel. He really is sexy in that Oscar the Grouch kind of way.

Water droplets glisten on his chest as he wraps his towel around his waist, covering himself for the first time since he got out of bed. “You’ll need to stay in this suite too.” Dieter reminds you. “The paps watch the hotel rooms.”

You huff, knowing he’s right, and you wrap the towel around yourself. It’s hard to resist licking up that drop of water going down to his - your mind flashes with an image of you doing just that and you stumble. “Shit.” You hiss and he reaches out to steady you, causing you to pull your arm away. “Do you- do you remember anything from last night?” You ask, curious if he’s having these flashes too.

“I-“ Dieter bites his lip and almost lies to you. “I remember most of last night.” He admits quietly. He’s done so many drugs that some things just kind of stick with him. Especially sex. He knows you will probably be mad at him, since you were drugged too, but he didn’t know that you weren’t just drunk.

Your eyes widen but you’re not surprised. He’s done more drugs than most of the population of California combined. He must have some kind of immunity. “Tell me.” You demand. “Tell me everything.”

“I don’t know.” He swallows harshly and gives a small shrug. “We came back to the hotel, but we started in the limo.” He flashes you a grin. “You demanded I eat you out. Told me that you hadn’t cum on someone’s face in a long time.”

You fluster, unable to believe you said that. “And did you?” You ask breathlessly. 

“Of course I fucking did.” He scoffs, “I practically laid on the floor of the limo so I could eat you out. You were bucking against my face like a goddamn bronco.” 

Your cheeks burn and you need to know more despite it being mortifying. “Then what?”

He smirks, amused with how flustered you look. “Then we came back here and had sex. In the bathtub, in the bed, in front of the windows.” He chuckles. “You liked that.”

There’s a flash in your mind of him pushing you up against the window, your cheek smashed against it as he rammed into you. “Oh God.” You choke, unable to believe that he fucked you like that. “No wonder I ache. God, thank God I’m on birth control.” You grip the towel tighter around your body, even though it’s ridiculous now he’s seen every inch of your body.

He hums, not mentioning how you had moaned about how good he felt. He’ll save that for himself. “You wanted it again, wanted to ride but you were so tired I stopped you.” You had pouted at him until he promised you could ride him in the morning. Although it seems like that won’t happen. “You can wear some of my clothes until you get your bags to the room.”

You want the floor to open and swallow you when he says that you wanted to ride him. It’s true you haven’t had sex for - who the fuck knows how long it has been. You can’t even remember. You had seen Dieter naked and now you can see why you wanted to ride his cock. Now you’re sober, you couldn’t do it because it’s Dieter Bravo. “Okay. I will wear some of your clothes then go get my things then I’m gonna go shopping and you are gonna stay here and call your manager to apologize.” You tell him, striding out of the bathroom and you walk into the closet to his suitcase, wrinkling your nose at the lack of options that don’t involve holes or stains. “You need new clothes too.” You tell him, holding up his tatty sweats.

Shrugging, he doesn’t understand why you are upset about his clothes. “So buy me some.” He offers. “Hate shopping. Never do it. All that was stuff I acquired.” Half the time it’s stuff that comes from lovers or once expensive clothes that he wears to death when he’s given them after modeling. “But don’t throw them away.” He huffs, a snatching shirt you had picked up away from you. “They’re comfortable.”

“Comfortable can look good too. These are - what the hell do you do in these clothes?” You pick up a tatty shirt and pull it over your head. “What’s your size? I’ll buy you some clothes. We can’t - I won’t be married to a homeless millionaire.” You scoff, “I promise you’ll be comfortable but you need to look good. Your entire image is your income.”

Dieter snorts and rolls his eyes. “I’m still getting worked, aren’t I?” He asks before he drops his towel and starts rooting around for a pair of boxers. “I need to look good on camera. And the makeup and hair people accomplish that.” He honestly doesn’t care about how he looks off set, comfort is his goal. He works long hours when he’s shooting a movie and it’s always uncomfortable. “I honestly don’t- oh! The last movie.” He rattles off sizes. “That’s what the tailor told me when I was fitted.”

“Okay. I’ll get you some new clothes. I just - I know you think I hate you but I want you to be successful. I want you to look good and be loved by your fans. I want you to have everything you’ve ever wanted and that’s my job. To make you look good. For people to love you. I’ll get you some new clothes and some new shoes. Those Tom’s…they aren’t it.”

“Hey….” Dieter pouts and looks down at the Tom’s he had pushed his feet into after sliding on his boxers. “I left my crocs at home.” He argues. “I could have worn them.” He would have too, he doesn’t care. Although he’s surprised by your speech about wanting things for him. Besides last night, you always seem to look at him like gum on the bottom of your shoe.

“God no. I will get my stuff and then we are going shopping. You’re coming with me so we can get you some new stuff.” You tell him, not taking no for an answer. “Let’s get my stuff and then we can go get started.” You shove your feet into your shoes, grateful you didn’t wear heels last night.

“I hate shopping.” He whines, huffing dramatically. “I hate it. It’s boring and people are always assholes.” He hates having to make small talk and all the fucking sales associates thought if they talked to him that he would buy more shit.

You roll your eyes, “tough shit. Your wife wants to go shopping.” You quip and make your way out of the closet to grab your purse, intent on going to your room to change. “Breakfast should be arriving soon. I’ll get my stuff, we can eat, and then we will go out.”

“Bossy.” The fact that his cock twitches doesn’t surprise him, he likes following orders sometimes. “Fine, we’ll go shopping.” He calls out as you walk out of the closet. “But I’m going to complain the whole time!”

****

You hold up the shirt against him, liking the purple against his skin tone. “I like this. What do you think?” You ask, knowing that people are watching you and taking photos but there’s nothing you can do.

“It’s fine.” Dieter huffs, hating the actual shopping more than the color or style of the shirt. He always feels like a rat in a glass cage when he goes shopping. “If you like it, get it. I’ll wear whatever.”

You huff back, hating his lack of enthusiasm and you know it’s because he hates being with you. “We will get it and then we can go, okay hon?” You promise, knowing he’s uncomfortable. “I won’t make you endure this anymore.” You take the shirt over to the cashier and you feel guilty when you see the total. “I’m sorry. Oh God. I didn’t know - I can put stuff back.” You tell him, picking up the clothes.

Dieter scoffs and takes the clothes out of your hand and sets them back down on the counter. “You want it, don’t you?” He asks, reaching into his pocket to pull out his little card case. The black card is quickly snatched up by the sales associate. “Besides, you told me you wanted to go shopping. Shopping means buying things.”

“Yeah but -” Your protest is cut short as the sales associate starts to fold the clothes. All of these are for Dieter. Yours are already on the way to the hotel. “I promise you I’ll pay you back.” You vow and he shakes his head. Dieter spends more than this a week on coke. 

“Anything to make you happy dear.” He sasses and you playfully slap him, a little too hard but you don’t want to look like you’re not flirtatious with the sales associate there. 

“Happy wife happy life.” You quip.

Dieter rolls his eyes and shoots the clerk a grin. “She’s already figured it out.” He tells them. “I just go along to get along.” He can almost say it with a straight face, but he looks over at you and shoots you a playful wink. “As long as you model the clothes you bought, or let me throw them on the floor, we’re good, baby.” He takes the opportunity to slide his hand down your back and squeeze your ass.

You want to be disgusted but you’ve had more flashes in your mind about how he fucked you and it’s beyond anything you could imagine. So sexy and intense. You find yourself being attracted to him and it’s so dangerous. You’re supposed to hate him, hate how he’s a PR nightmare, one that you’ve now gotten involved in, but you just want him to squeeze your ass again.

His grin gets wider when you don’t gasp and he leans in to kiss your cheek, making sure he drops another kiss right at the corner of your mouth. You’re a little looser than you were last night when the plane landed and he likes that. After your champagne at the strip club, he had ditched Cindy or whatever her fucking name was and it had been all about you. Not that what’s her name minded, she had latched onto some IG model that was there.

You can't stop the shiver that runs through your body and you hope he thinks it's from disgust. "Thank you." You tell the sales associate who promises to take your purchases back to your hotel room. You hold Dieter's hand as you walk back to your hotel. "Gotta let people take photos." You murmur, realizing how many people recognize him and you feel terrible that this is his life every day.

“I know.” He keeps his voice down, but he squeezes your hand. “That's why I hate shopping. The stores turn into a giant fucking fish bowl.” He’s feeling a little jittery, wishing you had let him take something before you left the hotel. But you had said you wanted people to see him happy and sober. Dieter didn’t mention that no one had seen him like that.

You notice how anxious he is and you feel awful for forcing him out like this. You can’t imagine being recognized like this. To be constantly under the public eye. You can understand why he finds solace in the drugs. “It’s okay. Don’t pay attention to them. You’re okay sweetheart. We are going back to the room.” You promise, feeling his hand shake in yours.

He grips your hand a little tighter and looks over at you, almost pathetically grateful that you are here. “Now you know why I’m normally baked.” He quips with a crooked grin.

You feel sorry for him, finally recognizing why he doesn’t dress nicer or go out or be sober. You can’t imagine the stress he must have even going out to the grocery store. You are swift to get him back into the hotel but you enter the elevator and what appears to be several young women all gasp when you enter. “Oh my God it’s Dieter Bravo.” One of them announces and you find yourself defensive when they start to take selfies without even asking. 

“Hey. Can you not just take his photo? You could at least ask.” You huff and one of the women points at you. 

“You’re his beard.” She declares. 

“His what?” You narrow your eyes. 

“He’s actually with a man but you are his cover up so female fans think he’s still an option. It’s okay honey, we all know you’re not his type anyway. He likes them looking like supermodels. You’re…average.” She drags her eyes down your body and you feel every insecurity you’ve tried to overcome rush back over you.

“Hey.” Dieter scowls and shakes his head, pushing the outstretched hands with phones away and reaches for you to tug you close to his side. “How about you not talk about my wife like that?” He demands. “Have I been with men? Yep, not a secret.” 

Dieter has never cared how he was perceived, he was too self absorbed for that, but he’d be damned if someone was going to insult his fake marriage. “And your logic makes zero fucking sense. I like men, but then I like women who look like supermodels, so she isn’t good enough?” He rolls his eyes and smirks. “Be jealous all you want but don’t be a bitch to her. And you can swing by the hotel room to hear how unattractive I find her later.”

You can’t deny that you are turned on by his display. His defense of you is sexy and you can’t stop the smirk appearing on your lips as the woman is shocked, blinking several times until her friends usher her off of the elevator when it arrives on their floor. “Thank you.” You tell him, “you didn’t have to do that.”

“Husbands protect their wives, right?“ he likes the way that your hand is on his chest, the admiration in your eyes appealing. It’s real, unlike a lot of the shit he gets. “Besides, they are fucking insane. You aren’t average, your fucking gorgeous.”

You fluster, caressing his chest before stepping away. You can’t get involved with him, this is a PR disaster to begin with, let alone getting actual emotions involved. He’s more than what you thought he was. “Thank you. You- you aren’t too bad yourself.” You tell him just as the elevator doors open and you walk to his suite.

He snorts, appreciating the sass and his eyes are glued to your ass as you walk. The maid has come while the two of you are gone and the suite is nice and tidy. “So, I guess we need to talk about what’s going to happen when we go back to L.A.” he doesn’t want to, but he also doesn’t want you lecturing him when the two of you had such a good moment.

You sigh, knowing he’s not gonna like your response. “We need to live together. Just until we divorce. The paps might catch me leaving my home or not being in your home. It will raise questions and we need people to think we are together and stop questioning…like that woman did. We need to - to make this work and when we divorce, you can tell everyone that I’m the evil woman that broke your heart so you can get all the attention and hopefully your next role.”

Dieter shakes his head. “No,” he frowns at the idea of what that would do to your career. “We’ll come up with something better than that.” He insists. “I- there’s three other bedrooms in the house.” He offers, looking over at the door to the bedroom of the suite. “You can have whatever room you want.” He sighs. “I’m a selfish asshole, but I’d never make you stay in the same room or sleep with me.”

You appreciate how he isn’t forcing you into more than what you have agreed. “It will only be for a few months. We need to suffer each other until people get bored of you being married. Tonight, we need to put on a show to convince the public we are married. I’m sorry this happened. I know you didn’t want to get married.” You sigh, having heard him say that several times when his manager would try to set him up on dates.

“Yeah, I know you don’t want to be married to me.” He reminds you with a rueful grin. “I’m not complaining though. I get to say I know what you look like when you cum.” Winking at you playfully. “So I’ve got that goin for me.” He’s thought about it all day today and he knows that it’s not going to happen, but it’s a nice thought.

You roll your eyes playfully and slap his chest. “That’s not gonna happen again. It was…a lapse in judgment. We can’t do that again. It will complicate things even more. That was…it was the drugs.” You lie despite knowing you’d love for Dieter to fuck you again.

“Yeah….the drugs.” Dieter frowns at the reminder and turns around to start striding to the bedroom. “I’m gonna go find my coke.” He calls over his shoulder. “You can do whatever you want. If my manger calls, tell her to fuck off, I’m on my honeymoon.

You chuckle, starting to unpack and hang up the clothes you’d bought him so he can pick out an outfit for later. Everything is stylish yet comfortable. You admire the dresses you’d bought for yourself, excited to wear something beautiful that you could never afford. Dieter lays on the bed, napping between snorting the coke, and he watches some movie while you get ready for your dinner. You take your time to do your hair and makeup, coming back out in a robe. “Bathroom is free. I’m gonna get changed.” You tell Dieter.

His hair is sticking up in every direction, not caring to style it after his shower this morning but he sits up when you walk past. Your makeup is sexy and your hair perfect. You look like an actress getting ready to perform her starring role. Right…this is just an act you are putting on so you can divorce him in six months. Dieter grunts and shuffles off the bed to trudge into the bathroom. If you want this to be a role, he can give you that. He’ll be your perfect co-star.

When you are ready, you walk back into the bedroom to find Dieter walking out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, water droplets still rolling down his skin, but his hair is styled and he has shaved. Fuck, he looks good. “You, uh, you look good like that.” You manage to choke out, hoping he likes your riskier outfit. You know that being with Dieter means you have to have a certain image. The man wouldn’t be married to someone who wears jeans and sneakers all day every day. So you hope he likes the skimpy dress you had bought for tonight.

His mouth drops open slightly, eyes fixed on the skin you are showing and his cock twitches. He loves it and he hates it, because he’s not going to be able to touch you. “You look amazing.” He compliments you breathlessly. “We need to see those cunts in the elevator again.” He chuckles. “Let them see I’m sporting a constant boner.”

“Thank you.” You giggle nervously, eyes dipping down to the slight tent under his towel and there’s a flash behind your eyes of you sucking his cock. Fuck, you can’t let him touch you again. You have to keep this professional. “Did you take viagra again?” You tease, sliding your feet into your heels to distract yourself from pulling him close and kissing him.

Scoffing, Dieter shakes his head. “Hell no.” He doesn’t add that there would be no point since he’s not getting laid on his birthday. “Natural reaction to you, sweetheart.” He turns and walks towards the closet. “Another reason I wear baggy clothes.”

You pause, watching him walk away, and you wonder if he’s just joking with you or if he’s being serious. Has he always found you attractive or does he even find you attractive now? After he is dressed, you swear your pussy drips because damn, he looks so sexy when he’s dressed up and tidy. “You look- you look good.” You choke, hoping your face doesn’t betray you, and you fumble to grab your purse so you can make your dinner reservation on time.

Dieter smirks and holds his arm out for you to take with a wink. “Can’t embarrass my wife when I take her out, can I?” He coos, knowing you hate being reminded that you married him. He can be charm itself when he wants to be and surprisingly, he only took a single Xanax while he was getting ready. The wedding band on his hand is foreign, but it somehow mixes with his other rings. “Ready to put on a show?”

With a sigh, you nod, wrapping your fingers around his arm and let him guide you out of the hotel room to the elevator. He seems…sober. You’re not used to seeing Dieter sober like this and you find you like him more. He’s not as brash or obnoxious. He’s charming and, surprisingly sweet. “I just want this to be successful so you don’t end up another failed Hollywood marriage. You don’t wanna beat Kim K and Britney on an annulment, do you?” You tease as you step onto the elevator and you lower your hand from his arm.

“First place is first place.” He jokes, looking up at the LED monitor that shows the floors rapidly descending. “Besides, I’m sure that whoever you are dating wants to kick my ass and have their girlfriend back.” He shoves his hands in his pockets, feeling twitching and he doesn’t want to touch you more than he needs to. He likes it too much. “Just blame everything on me. They’ll believe I did something stupid.”

You snort, “you think I’m-? First of all, no. I’m single. Have been for…longer than I care to admit. Second, I would never do what I did with you if I was with someone. I was drugged and - God, thank fuck I wasn’t with someone because we - it wasn’t exactly once that night.” You’ve had more flashes, able to piece most of your night together. The things he did to you…they should honestly be illegal, it felt far too good. “Legally, I’m yours. Reality, I’m no one’s.” You answer him, feeling a little insecure that you haven’t dated anyone for a while since you’ve been so busy with work.

“Yeah, I get it.” The doors open and Dieter takes a breath before plastering a happy look on his face. “The only reason you would ever look at me is because you were drugged.” He sighs under his breath, his low tone at odds with his expression. “Can you please stop reminding me how much you hate me. It’s my birthday.”

You take his hand, “I promise you I will make sure you have a good birthday. Come on, let’s go get dinner. I’m starving. Then we can go dancing.” You can’t wait to let loose a little and remember it instead of the crazy night you had before.

The photographers are everywhere, lights flashing and Dieter just smiles and acts proud that he is with you. Lifting up your joined hands and kissing the back of yours. “Dieter! What made you marry your PR agent?” 

Dieter laughs and gives you a smoldering smirk. “Well I’ve been in love with her for forever and finally managed to convince her that I was serious. She thought I was acting!”

He is acting but damn, the loving look in his eyes almost convinced you that he loves you. “And we decided to just go for it since I’ve been in love with him too.” You coo, kissing Dieter’s cheek and the cameras flash once more. You gasp when Dieter turns his head to press his lips to yours and you let him kiss you for a moment. “Sorry fellas. We are gonna be late for dinner. Thank you.” You declare, squeezing Dieter’s hand and he guides you through the crowd of paps.

Getting into the car is relatively easy and he allows you to slide into the car before him. The driver pulls away and he looks over at you with a smirk. “Looks like they believed you.” His lips burn where he had kissed you and he turns to look out the window so he doesn’t try to do it again. “They might fall in love with you.”

You snort, looking out of the window. “If you don’t like me, I doubt they will love me. I’m just a five minute wonder. When the Kardashians or the Hadid sisters do something, I’ll be old news and that’s when we can divorce under the radar. We just gotta make them think we are in love for the time being. I know that will be hard but you’re an Oscar winning actor so you should be able to manage it.” You wonder if you’ll be able to manage it. He’s more than what you thought he was, already changing your opinion after twenty four hours in his company. Maybe it’s a residue high from the drug. You don’t know.

Dieter sighs and doesn’t comment. It won’t do any good. You wouldn’t believe him if he told you that while he hadn’t been in love with you, he had found you very attractive and he liked the sass and the fact that you didn’t put up with his shit. He was contrary by nature and you were just so good. And last night….fuck, you showed him how wild you could be.

When you arrive at the restaurant, there’s another throng of paps and fans with their cameras but the restaurant staff usher you inside to a private booth and you exhale in relief when you lean back against the cool leather. “I don’t know how you handle that all the time.” You say to Dieter when he sits beside you.

“Drugs.” Dieter jokes, giving a small shrug as he reaches for the water glass. It’s not wine, but he will order a bottle quick enough and he’s oddly thirsty. “Some days it’s okay, especially when I meet someone who is passionate about movies, but it can be a lot when it’s the paps.”

“I can only imagine. It’s…intense. I’m sorry you have to deal with that. I sit at a desk and don’t really see that side of it. The reality of it. For so long, I’ve just done damage control on different situations you’ve gotten into like when you hit the pap and I never - I always thought you overreacted but now I know.”

He stares at you a moment, amazed that you had just said that. When he had hit the pap, you had raked his ass over the coals. “Thanks.” He ducks his head slightly to study the menu. “Hopefully they don’t bother you too badly.”

"I can handle them. They just need to be bored by me and they will move on. If we have an orgy in the middle of the strip, then we might be on their radar." You joke, browsing the menu. "Shit. This place is pricey. I didn't -" You are cut when Dieter rolls his eyes and tuts. 

"Hellooo?? My wife gets whatever she wants. Plus, I make way more money than I need. Probably why I buy so much coke." He murmurs to himself and you fluster at the way he easily calls you his wife even though no one is around to hear. 

The waiter comes over and Dieter orders the wine and you soon order your meal. "I don't - I haven't really been anywhere this nice before. My parents always preferred to cook homemade meals and special occasions were few and far between and my exes, none really took me anywhere super nice."

He snorts and rolls his eyes. “Wow, sounds like you dated some winners.” He doesn’t mind spending money, the people he hangs out with would verify that. But someone like you needs to be appreciated. “Well, while you are married to me, you can do whatever you want and eat everywhere you’ve wanted to try.” He lifts his brows. “A Hollywood wife must be seen after all.”

You chuckle, "I guess so." You watch the wine sommelier pour the wine for Dieter to taste and he nods, letting the man pour you a glass before filling Dieter's up. "To being fake married." You toast softly with a smirk on your lips as you clink your glass against his. "To being fake married." He responds and you take a sip of the wine, moaning in appreciation of the fruity full bodied red wine.

Your moan punches him in the gut, making it twist as he members the way you sounded last night. You still haven’t realized that he knew that the two of you got married. He wonders what you will say when you rationalize it out.

You eagerly dig into your appetizer. So hungry after so much stress. You see Dieter fidget and flex his fingers as he plays with his food. “Is everything okay?” You ask, reaching for his left hand. Another flash plays through your mind of when he slid the diamond ring onto your finger. You gasp and squeeze his hand. “Do you - if you remember last night us having - then you must remember us getting married?”

Shit…..Dieter stares down at his plate and swallows, suddenly not hungry. You are going to be pissed at him. “I do.” He admits, not looking up. He doesn’t want to see the anger on your face. Plus it hurts less when he gets slapped if he doesn’t see it coming.

You inhale sharply, now knowing that he married you and remembers it. He knew what he was doing. You feel betrayed. "Why?" You whisper, unable to muster anything else.

Dieter sighs and leans back in his chair, wishing that he had done some Coke before dinner. “It was your idea.” He reveals. “You climbed into my lap and told me that you had always wanted to slap me and then kiss me.” He huffs out a small chuckle. “So I told you to do it.” He picks up his wine glass and takes a long gulp. “It went from there, but you asked me to marry you.”

Your eyes widen. “I- I asked you- oh God.” You lean back in your seat, absorbing the news that you asked him to marry you. “Why - did I give a reason why? I need you to tell me everything.” You order, leaning closer to him.

 He gives a small shrug. “I thought you had just decided to take the stick out of your ass.” He defends himself. “Plus I wasn’t close to sober. But we made out in the club, damn near had sex in that booth. Then we went cruising down the strip and you saw the chapel and demanded we pull over.” He chuckles. “You claimed you loved those cliche movies about eloping and something about it could be a weird version of married at first sight?” He shrugs. “I didn’t know what you were talking about, but you were happy.”

You stare at him, tears stinging in your eyes and you swallow harshly. The tang of the wine on your lips when you lick them. “Wow. I- wow. It was me.” You can’t believe it was you that suggested getting married but you supposed it makes sense now. You sigh and reach for his hand. “I’m so sorry. It’s my fault we are in this fucked up mess and I - oh God. I’m so sorry sweetheart. I shouldn’t - my parents got divorced when I was a teenager so I guess I’ve always wanted to get married and do it right but now I’ve completely fucked that up.”

He reaches out and covers your hand with his other one. “It’s okay.” He knows how you feel now, in the light of day. He should have known you weren’t yourself, but he convinced himself that you had just given into bottled up feelings. It’s not true though, you are horrified at being married to him. So you’ll get it annulled or get a divorce or whatever. “We’ll have you single again in no time.” He chuckles and sends you a wink. “Smart girl, we got married without a prenup too.”

Your eyes widen, “oh God. I didn’t - I don’t want your money Dieter. You can keep it. I don’t - I don’t want you to think I did this because of - because of the money. I didn’t.” You promise, “I don’t - oh God. What a mess…and it’s all my fault. I’m so sorry.” You shake your head, knowing that your job is to protect his image and you’re the one who got you in this position.

He chuckles, enjoying the abject horror on your face. “Nah. I’ll just sign up for some really shitty movie, Cliff Beasts 75 or some shit, and tell the press at the junket that it’s so I could pay my alimony.” He teases, squeezing your hand so you don’t think he’s serious.

You roll your eyes at him, half playful, and you look down at your joined hands. For some reason, it feels far too right to hold his hand, even with the ghastly amount of rings he has on each hand. “So you wanted to marry me…even though I’ve done nothing but be rude to you?” You ask, frowning again.

“What can I say?” He gives a small shrug. “I’m a masochist.” His joke is meant to make you roll your eyes and scoff, perhaps say something sarcastic. Anything to keep you from delving into why he thought marrying you was a good idea. He was high, sure, but he never was so high that he married someone else before. His insecurities and loneliness came out last night and in typical Dieter fashion, he was selfish.

You stare at him, unsure of what to think, but you can see something in his eyes. You just can’t put your finger on it. “I- I’m sorry I’ve been such a bitch to you. I should’ve been more professional and I understand why you…self medicate. It must be so overwhelming.” You squeeze his hand just as the waiter comes over with your food.

He doesn’t respond with a pithy reply, instead he just leans back and lets the server set down the food. He speaks when the extra ears have left. “I get it, I’m annoying.” He gives a small shrug. “Byproduct of being lonely, I guess.”

You feel sorry for him which surprises you. You can’t imagine how lonely it must be to not know who your true friends are. To know that everyone wants something from you. “I- I really am sorry Dieter. I don’t think you’re as annoying now that I understand why. You’re just…eccentric.” You tell him and start to eat, wondering what you can do to make this man happy. How bizarre, to have gone from loathing him to…something else in less than twenty four hours.

“Don’t feel sorry for me.” He’s slightly prickly after exposing something so raw. “My life is great. Drugs, sex, whatever I want.” He huffs like it’s ridiculous to imagine being unhappy. “I live in Sherman Oaks.”

You snort, “money doesn’t buy happiness. It’s clear that you are lonely and you buy your friends and your lovers. It’s…I want more for you Dieter. You deserve to be truly happy. I know we have fucked up with this marriage but you deserve to be with someone who loves you.

Dieter sighs, knowing that will never happen. He either fucks up or they do. Or they never loved him at all. “Can we talk about something less depressing?” He whines before he changes the subject. “Like you showing me your tits at the strip club?”

Your eyes widen, “I did what?!?” Your mouth drops and you lower your knife and fork. 

“Yeah. You flashed your tits while we were in the club. Said you could get up on that stage and make me hard.” Dieter smirks at how mortified you are. 

“Oh my God. I didn’t.” You cringe, knowing you must’ve embarrassed yourself while high thanks to your constant need to suppress your wilder side.

“You did.” He chuckles and leans in. “But you were right, I did get hard.” He smirks and winks at you. “Got really hard. You liked it. Really liked it.” You had loved how hard he was and that he was a multiple rounds kind of guy.

You fluster, another flash in your mind of you taking his cock into your mouth in the limo, and your cheeks burn. “Oh shit. I did. God, I- I didn’t know - I’ve never behaved that way. I just - oh no. I’m so sorry.” You wince, not even wanting to know what he thought of you. “I, uh, I never behave that way. At least not outside of my kind.”

Dieter grins, eyes alight with dirty delight. “Yeah?” He gives a low chuckle. “You have a lot of dirty thoughts swimming around in that pretty little head if yours?” He nods. “Yeah, you do. You probably read all those smutty romances and watch porn thinking about what you would do if you just let yourself.”

You fluster, thinking of all of the books you’ve read and the porn you’ve watched. “A lot of dirty thoughts.” You murmur, looking into those beautiful dark eyes of his that are just one of the reasons he’s such a popular actor. You lick your lips and shift a little closer to him. “We shouldn’t - we should keep this professional.” Your eyes dip down to his lips and you remember how good it felt to kiss him. You want that again.

“Maybe.” Dieter gives a careless shrug, as if it’s of no consequence. “Although….we already have. And you are my wife.” He reminds you with a grin. “So technically speaking, fucking each other’s brains out would be keeping it professional.” He can tell you are curious. If it’s because you don’t remember a lot of last night or if you want to see what Dieter Bravo is like in bed, he doesn’t know. “You know what they say. What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.”

You want to kiss him, fuck, you really do, but crossing that line isn’t something you can let go. You pull back, swallowing down the lump in your throat. “I- I don’t think it would, considering everyone takes our photo.” You gesture to the people across the room who are trying to covertly take your photo. You go back to your food, knowing it’s for the best. “We can go dancing after this, show off those infamous moves.” You nudge him playfully, trying to lighten the mood.

He wants to pout, but he knows that he’s not going to push. He never pushes, it goes against his code. “Okay.” He lown meal and forks up a bite. You don’t want to sleep with him again. Fitting for the woman who hadn’t even wanted to come here. He can see you retreat back into your professional armor and he sighs softly. “We’ll dance for like an hour, then I think I’m just going to go to bed early.” He decides. “There’s got to be another baggie in the room somewhere.”

You sigh, wishing he wouldn’t escape in drugs. Maybe some therapy would help him process better. You push that thought aside and know that you’re not his actual wife so that would be overstepping. The rest of dinner is spent in silence and you groan when you finish dessert. “I don’t think I’ve had a meal that good…ever.” You dread to think what the bill is going to say.

Groaning in agreement, Dieter doesn’t even look at the bill when it comes, pulling his wallet out of his jacket pocket and handing the card to the waiter as he reaches for his wine glass to drain the last sip. “Have you decided what club?”

“Not a strip club.” You snort and he pouts, making you playfully slap his arm. “Not a strip club. There’s this club at Venetian that’s supposed to be nice. Let’s go there and we can dance then go back to the room because these shoes aren’t gonna hold up an entire night.” You stretch your legs, accidentally brushing against his. “Thank you for dinner.” You tell him when the waiter sets the bill down.

“You’re welcome.” For all his douchebaggery, Dieter tips. He had spent too many years waiting tables to survive while he was working towards breaking into the business. He signs a large tip and scrawls his signature before he takes his card and closes the leather booklet. “Ready?” He asks, standing up and moving over to your chair.

You take his hand, happy to keep your hands joined as he guides you out of the restaurant and through the hotel to your awaiting limo. Dieter tells the driver the name of the club and he leans back in the leather seat as the driver makes his way across the strip. “Can I ask you a question?” You ask and he chuckles, “you just did.” You roll your eyes and look at him and he nods. “Why do you do the drugs? What about it makes you - makes you happy?”

That hadn’t been the question he was expecting. He frowns slightly and thinks about how to answer. “It’s freeing. Fun.” He gives a small shrug. “I like the way I think, the way I feel when I’m high. It can be creative.” He snorts. “Or it can make me not give a fuck about what’s going on.”

You nod in understanding, “I can get that. Just - just being you without any kind of mental barrier. I just - last night I was free. I have never acted like that before.” You admit, “but don’t you ever get tired of it? Don’t you ever want something real?”

Dieter scoffs. “Real checked out when my first multi million dollar role was announced.” He tells you. “Real left when I slept with someone only to have them sell pictures to The Sun.” He gives a shrug that’s meant to hide the hurt and betrayal that he had felt when he realized that he was just some kind of commodity to a lot of people. “Maybe one day, when I’m old and the roles stop coming in, or they aren’t blockbusters or Oscar winners.”

You feel sad for him, you can see the pain in his eyes. He feels used and not truly loved, he has been wrung out for every penny people can get out of him. “I’m sorry you’ve been treated like that. You deserve to be treated like any other human. Just because you’re famous doesn’t mean you don’t get to be treated with respect. I- I can understand now why you act that way you do. It’s an escape and a facade. If you don’t let them see the real you, you won’t get hurt.”

“Knew you were a smart cookie.” It’s not exactly a compliment, because it means he’s let you see beyond his facade. He looks out of the car window and chuckles to himself. “Want to flash the strip?” He asks, making a crude joke to lighten the mood.

You chuckle, rolling your eyes at him. “No I don’t. I’m not even drunk.” You tell him, “or drugged. God, I really did flash my tits everywhere. Thank God no one got a photo of it.” You cringe at the thought.

“Oh there are photos.” Dieter smirks, holding up his phone. “But only I get to see pics of my wifey like that.” He had every intention of deleting them, but hadn’t remembered to do it yet. “You wanna see?”

Your eyes widen, “you took photos? Oh my God. You asshole.” You slap his arm making him give a dramatic “ow” then you demand he shows you. He grins and unlocks his phone, pulling up the photos he had taken. “Oh God. I- I look - I look hot.” You settle on that word. You look happy and carefree and hot. Words you never thought you’d put together.

“Yeah you do.” You do look hot, doing exactly what you wanted and not apologizing for it. The picture where you were pushing your tits together and winking at him is his favorite. Inviting him to come suck on him. He had waited until the limo to do that. “But no one else got photos. Apparently there’s not supposed to be photos taken in the club.”

You stare at the photos, not even recognizing yourself. You look so happy. You don’t remember the last time you were that happy. Work took over and then your relationships were lackluster and you haven’t had much time for yourself. “That’s good. You, uh, can you send those to me? I really like them.” You admit quietly, loving that side of yourself that you’ve never seen.

He lifts his brow in surprise, not expecting you to want to keep any evidence of you letting loose. “Sure.” He nods and opens his messages to start sending you the photos. If you want them, you will have them. “I’ll delete them off my phone after I send them to you, but I don’t believe in that sharing photos shit. That’s disgusting.”

You have a new appreciation for him, knowing that he is many things but he isn’t a liar. “Thank you.” You kiss his cheek, wanting to thank him for being a good man. Your phone buzzes and you ignore it since the limo pulls up outside of the Venetian. “More paps but after that, it’s time to celebrate your birthday. First round is on me.” You promise, grabbing your purse as the driver opens the door.

Dieter follows you out of the limo, wrapping his arm around your waist and starting to weave through the paps. If he didn’t know better, he would think someone tipped them off. Smiling and grinning like he’s happy they are all witnessing his arrival, he tugs you closer. “Talk later! Gotta dance!”

You sigh, knowing you will need to investigate who tipped the paps off. You imagine it’s his assistant who arranged the reservations. “I’m sorry. I don’t - I’ll gotta find out who tipped them off.” You tell him as you take his hand, walking through the casino and you sigh in relief when you see the entrance to the club after several fans took photos of you and Dieter. “It’s exhausting. Having to be ‘on’ all the time.” You can’t imagine how he handles it. You enter the club, skipping the line, and are escorted to the VIP section.

Ordering a drink is quick, the server specifically assigned to your section for preferential treatment. “What do you want, sweetheart?” He asks, leaning in and speaking into your ear over the loud music. His arm is wrapped around your shoulders and the entire world would believe that you two are are enamored with each other.

You force yourself to not turn your head, your lips would be so close, and you know that kissing him, or touching him, would complicate things even more. He looks so good though, the lights flashing over his face, and you want to just protect him from the fucked up world he is in and keep him safe and...loved. Shit, you gotta push that thought out of your mind. You mumble that you want a vodka soda and Dieter orders a whole bottle. "Gonna be a good night." He promises, his lips against your ear and it makes you shiver.

The music plays as the two of you wait for your drinks. He’s aware that there are eyes on the two of you, taking advantage of it by stroking your arm and leaning close, nuzzling your cheek with his nose. “You look delicious in that dress.” He breathes into your ear. “Can’t wait to dance with you.”

You try to smother your whimper as your entire body lights up from his simple touch. Biting your lip, you turn your head to look at him and you swear he looks angelic with the lights flashing over his handsome face. He’s no angel though, he’s the devil in disguise. “Let’s dance.” You tell him, not bothered about the drinks.

Dieter smirks as you practically drag him out onto the dance floor. He doesn’t normally dance as much as wildly gyrate, but he can grind on someone. It helps that even though he’s behind you, you are leading the dance, something that is wildly sexy to him as he lets you take control.

You grab his hands, placing them on your hips as you grind back against him. You may be stiff and starchy most days to be professional but you love to dance. You don’t care who’s watching, deciding to finally let loose and you grind your ass against Dieter. Dipping low and pushing up against him as you grab his hands to help you stand upright. You put on a show that he clearly likes if his hardening cock pressing against your ass is anything to go by.

He groans, grinding against you and gripping your hips harshly. “God.” He hisses in your ear, loving how uninhibited you are being. “You are so dirty under that prissy veneer, aren’t you?” He teases. “You would do anything right now, wouldn’t you?”

​​You gasp when he bites down on your earlobe. “God yes. I would. I just - I haven’t had anyone to bring this side out of me.” His words send a thrill through you and you grind back even harder, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck, arching your back.

Chuckling against your ear, he slides his hand down your hip, fingers teasing the edge of your dress and tracing the hem. “Let me.” He demands, waiting to see if you push his hand away. When you don’t, his cock throbs against your ass as he dips his fingers under the dress and starts caressing the skin of your thighs as he works his way higher to the beat of the music. 

You don’t push his hand away, leaning back against him, and you whimper when his fingers press against your clit through your panties. “Fuck Dieter.” You moan into his neck when you turn your head. You know you shouldn’t be doing this, this is going to complicate things and you haven’t got the excuse that you’re drugged. You’ve had a couple of glasses of wine. You are practically sober and his hand is under your dress.

“You said that so many times last night.” He coos in your ear, rubbing your clit over your panties. “Fuck Dieter, harder.” He moans. “Fuck Dieter, your in my guts.” He slips a finger under the fabric and pushes it inside you, his thumb still outside your panties and pressed against your clit.

You don’t have the capacity to be embarrassed at what you had said to him last night. The flashes you had gotten told you that you loved what he had done to you. His thick digit inside of you has you gasping his name and his chuckle makes you gush, getting more aroused while you continue grinding on him. “God, what else did I say?” You ask with a raspy moan.

“That my cock was the best you ever had and you wanted to ride it.” He pumps his finger in and out of your tight, hot cunt - loving how you’re gripping it. It’s dirty, doing it right here on the dance floor and he loves it. “Whined when I told you to go to sleep. I think you would have slept with me inside you.”

His words cause a whine to rise up your throat, making you grab onto his hair as he works his digit in and out of you. "Oh God. That - that means you must've done a good job making me cum. Was I - was I good for you? Did you enjoy it?" You ask, knowing he's had more sex than you've had hot dinners so it's a valid question and you hope he doesn't lie to appease you.

“Fuck yes it was good.” He groans in your ear and slides another finger under the panties to push in with the other on the next twist of his wrist. “Fucking hot and tight. Like a perfect glove.” He twitches against your ass.

His second finger stretches you just right and you start to lean more against him as he works you towards an orgasm. "Oh fuck baby. You're gonna make me - it's so good. Dieter. I-" You turn your head to bite down on his neck. The music is loud but you don't need to alert people around you that Dieter just made you cum. His fingers work you through it and you slump back against him, feeling almost dizzy from the pleasure. "So good." You murmur, eyes closed as you breathe him in.

Dieter whines as he pulls his soaked fingers out of your cunt, holding them up so the shiny cum can catch the light in front of your eyes before he slides them into his mouth with a grin. You’re leaning against him and not moving to the music any more. “Time for that drink, right?” He murmurs in your ear, kissing the shell again.

You nod dumbly, feeling his cock hard and twitching against your ass as he guides you back to the VIP section. When you are under the stroud of exclusive cover, you reach for his pants. "Want to make you feel good too." All care of your PR job goes flying out the window as you scramble to pull his hard cock out of his pants. The section you're in is private and the curtains hide you from near everyone in the club. When his cock is finally free, you groan at the sight of it. It's beautiful, thick and veiny and you immediately lean down to take him into your mouth, not caring about anything other than making him cum.

“Shit.” Dieter hisses at the surprise move, throwing his head back as his hand comes to rest on the back of yours. He hadn’t expected this. Maybe some teasing, but he knows you aren’t drunk or have taken anything. This is you, taking him into your mouth and moaning around him like he’s a fucking lollipop you’ve craved. “Fuck, baby. You are so dirty, I love it.” His other hand slides around your side to squeeze your tit through your dress. “My wifey’s a little exhibitionist, sucking my cock in the club.”

This is so wrong. You shouldn’t be doing this but fuck, you can’t stop yourself. His moans and the way he touches you spurs you on and you bob on his cock, using your hand to work the length that you can’t take down your throat.

Letting out a needy whine, Dieter’s eyes close and he shuffles his hips up slightly. Wanting you to try to take him deeper. “Oh fuck baby, that mouth, oh fuck it’s so good.” He rambles, practically shuddering under the hot pressure of your palette against the head. “So good, you- fuck baby.” He forces his eyes open again to watch you suck his cock, amazed that this is happening and everyone is sober. 

You’re sober but you’re also drunk on Dieter. Taking him deeper until you are choking around his thick cock. You breathe through your nose, working him deeper until you aren’t gagging. Hollowing your cheeks, you press your tongue against the underside of his cock. Your eyes water but you force yourself to open them to meet his gaze, wanting to look at him.

Dieter is such a fucking needy little shit that the moment that you lock eyes with him, his entire body gives in. Gasping out your name, his cock starts to throb, face twisting pleasure while he is pumping ropes of salty cum into your mouth. 

You struggle to keep up, swallowing each spurt of cum, but a drop escapes to drip down your chin and lands on his pants. Working him through his orgasm, you pull off of his cock and kiss the tip, loving the way he twitches, then you lean down to lap up the drop that is threatening to stain his pants.

“Jesus Christ.” When you are sitting up, Dieter lunges forward to press his lips to yours. Sliding his tongue into your mouth, not caring about the taste of his own cum in your mouth, just needing to kiss you. Dragging you closer while he groans and deepens the kiss for a long minute before he pulls away and sighs as he nudges his nose against yours. “Shit…I wasn’t expecting a birthday blowjob.” He giggles, practically euphoric.  

“Neither was I.” You admit with a giggle, kissing his jaw. “I just - I can’t seem to stop touching you now. I want to give you birthday sex.” You murmur, wanting to recreate the night before and relive the flashes you get here and there. “Plus it will be good if people believe we are actually married, like not just on paper. Maybe a noise complaint will help our case.” You tease, caressing his chest through the open buttons of his shirt.

He smirks and nods eagerly. “I can make a noise complaint happen.” He jokes, before he leans in and kisses you again. “You want to have sex with me?” He asks, lifting his brows as he looks at you softly. He hadn’t expected this, this change of heart towards him, but he’s not turning down getting you into bed again. 

You nod eagerly. Ready for him to make you cum again. “Yes. Want you to fuck me until I scream your name. Until we get a noise complaint and everyone knows that dieter Bravo fucks his wife hard.”

He knows you don’t mean that beyond the fact that you accidentally married him. Fully aware that in a few months time, you are going to divorce him. But right now, the fact that he has a wife and that wife wants him to make a claim on her has him standing up. Shoving his cock back into his pants and zipping up, he grabs your hand. “We’re leaving.” He growls. 

Your cunt clenches at his growl and you let him practically drag you out of the VIP section after he slams some cash down on the table to cover the drinks you never had. When you are out of the club, he ignores anyone that talks to him as he practically drags you to the car, pushing you inside. As soon as the door closes, you are straddling his lap and pressing your lips to his.

He’s greedy right now, pushing your dress up to your hips and nearly ripping your top as he pulls your tits. Dragging his lips away from yours so he can kiss down your chest. He’s not hard yet, that will take at least until you get back to the hotel, but he can suck on your tits and see what you like while his body recovers enough to fuck you. 

When he takes your nipple into his mouth, you arch your back and cry out, tangling your fingers in this hair. “Oh fuck baby. That feels good.” You gasp when he bites down on the sensitive flesh.

Dieter loves tits. Big ones, small ones, he just loves them. He might have a bit of a lactation kink, but he’s never been with someone that had milk, but he always imagines it as he’s sucking on them. He flicks his tongue over the hard flesh and suckles eagerly, making it even stiffer before he scrapes his teeth over it to make you shudder. Pushing your tits together and licking between them happily before he buries his face in the cavity and groans happily. 

You moan, loving how fucking eager he is, and he switches rapidly between nipples, sucking each one and making you shift to grind down onto him, your panties soaked. You know this is a bad idea but you can’t stop yourself. He’s sexy, in a garbage driver kind of way - and you find yourself needing him more than you need air. “Oh fuck. Yes. Just like that.” You hiss when he nibbles the flesh.

He grunts, keeping his mouth busy. His hands sliding down and gripping your ass as you roll your hips. Reaching around with one hand to push your panties to the side so your clit can grind down against the seam of his pants. He doesn’t care if you soak them and ruin them, he wants to see you cum again. 

“Fuck.” You cry, grinding down until your clit rubs against the zipper of his pants, catching just right to make you shudder. His mouth continues to nip and suck on your tits and you swear you’ve never been this wet. You must have soaked his pants by now and you haven’t even cum yet. “Fuck Diet. You’re gonna - I’m gonna cum.” You warn him just before you fall over the edge, crying out as you shake above him.

Groaning into your tits, Dieter feels you fall apart. Your body tense and trembling gives him a rush of endorphins and his flaccid cock is starting to respond, hardening slowly as you grind against him. He holds you close and continues to lave affection on your tits until you slump against him, panting breathlessly. “I want to die like this.” Dieter’s comment is muffled from between your tits. “Just like this.”

You chuckle breathlessly, caressing his neck and running your fingers through his hair as you try to catch your breath, still feeling the haze of your orgasm washing over you. “If you die right now, I’ll get all your money.” You tease, knowing he knows that you don’t care about that stuff.

“Worth it.” He huffs against your damp skin. “Just bury me with a mold of your tits in my face.” He jokes, pulling away from you to kiss up your chest and chin before placing a surprisingly gentle kiss on your lips.

You sigh against his mouth, a little shocked by the tender kiss, and you respond, gently kissing him back. Your hands slide down to caress his chest and you nibble on his bottom lip, in no rush to pull away. This is dangerous, being this intimate and comfortable, but you know things will change when you get back to L.A and have to face reality.

The driver pulls to a stop outside the hotel and Dieter groans slightly, pulling your panties back into place and tugging your skirt down as he kisses you one last time. “Time to get out of the car and pretend we weren’t making out back here.” He smirks and looks down at his wet crotch. “Although that’s gonna be hard.”

You fluster, biting your lip as you try to compose yourself. These damn hotels make you walk through the casino to get to your room. You take Dieter's hand once he exits the limo and the cameras flash, making you lean into his side. "They definitely know what we were doing." You whisper, giggling when people stare at his crotch. "Helps confirm we are really married."

“I don’t think that we will have them convinced just yet.” Dieter winks at you before he hauls you close and kisses you again. It’s wet and dirty, the kind of kiss that leads to sex and he’s very happy when he hears you moan into his mouth, clinging to him.

You whimper into his mouth, nails digging into his shirt-clad shoulders as he slides his tongue against yours. Cameras flash and you pull back, knowing that you need to get him to the hotel room now before you fuck him here and in front of fans with cameras and the paps. "Need to - to get to the room." You manage to pant, grabbing his hand to practically drag him to the elevator.

Chuckling, he eagerly follows you into the car, somehow managing to be in there with only one other couple. “We’re gonna have to behave.” He warns you playfully, smacking your ass before he turns to the other couple. “Sorry, it’s our honeymoon and she’s irresistible.” He shares a smirk with the older man, and then grins back at you.

You slap his chest, shaking your head despite the grin on your face. Shit. He’s not too bad when he’s not playing up being an obnoxious Oscar winning movie star. The other couple - older - just chuckle. “I remember when she used to be like that for me.” He winks at his wife. 

“What do you mean used to be? Still am.” The wife smirks and the husband’s eyebrows raise. 

“Have a good night.” The husband says when the elevator arrives on their floor. 

“You too.” You respond and the wife smirks over her shoulder, “oh we will.”

“Damn, he’s gonna get lucky too.” Dieter huffs in amusement. The question of if you would still be that hot for him when you're their age is on the tip of his tongue, but then he remembers that he’ll be alone again by his next birthday. He pushes that out of his mind, grabbing you and flattening you against the wall of the car, his tongue desperate to chase away the thought and have as much of you as he can while you are still here.

You moan as his tongue slides against yours again. It’s like you can’t get enough of him. Never mind having a drug in your system last night, you’re certain that half of that was Dieter. Your entire body is on fire and you struggle to find any reason as to why you hated him. The bell dings and you slide out from the wall and your husband. 

“Does the birthday boy want some birthday sex? You want me to ride you like I promised?” You coo, smirking as you start to walk down the hall to his suite. When he starts to follow you, nodding his head eagerly, you grin and grab the key from your purse. “Better catch me then.” You rush down the hall, knowing it’s gonna be hard for him to run with his cock hard and throbbing already.

“Fuck.” Dieter groans, watching you take off and he starts to shuffle after you. “Wait up!” He whines, actually enjoying himself even though he wishes he was still crushed against you. It’s been a long time since sex was just playful and he is loving how easy it seems to be with you. You aren’t the uptight woman you pretend to be. “Fuck baby, watch that ass.” He huffs.

You giggle, trying to open the door, when he grabs you. You struggle to unlock the door with his hands everywhere and your hand shakes as you press the key against it, finally managing to open the door. “You’re just too slow, old man.” You tease, kicking off your shoes as you step into the suite and spin out of his arms to set your purse down.

“Fuck you I’m too old.” He huffs, slapping your ass harshly and then grabbing the hem of your dress to start dragging it up. “I’ll show you old.” He drags you back against him, grinding his cock against your ass. “Want you to ride me, I’ve been thinking about it all fucking day.” He admits with a grin, biting down on your shoulder.

You grind back against him, head lolling as he kisses up your neck, and you gather your senses enough to tell him to take his pants off. "Get undressed. Now." You order, desperate to sink down onto his cock. "Then sit back against the headboard."

“Yes ma’am.” Dieters draws out, happy to follow that order. Disrobing is careless, tossing clothes on the floor without any care until he is standing completely naked, save for his black socks. “Keep my feet warm.” He teases with a wink before he crawls up on the bed and leans back against the headboard. Wanting to see what you will say about the ridiculous look of just being in socks.

You chuckle at the sight of him in his socks, his cock resting on his lower stomach, and you push your panties down, kneeling on the bed and shuffling forward until you are hovering over his cock. “Like an old man keeping his socks on.” You tease, reaching between you to grip his cock and position him at your entrance. You slowly sink down onto him,  mouth falling open at how he stretches you.

“Does that make you the young gold digger?” He demands, leaning forward to kiss you and drag you to his chest. Wanting to feel your bare breasts against his skin while you get used to him. He knows you are probably sore from yesterday since you had told him it had been awhile since you’ve had sex. “Gonna fuck your old husband to death?”

You chuckle, “yeah. Especially since we have no prenup. You want me to - to fuck you to death?” You joke, moaning when you manage to rock your hips slowly until he’s fully inside of you. “Oh God. How don’t I remember how this feels?” You say to yourself.

“Blacked out from bliss.” Dieter huffs, reaching up and pinching your nipple. “Hearts gonna give out when you squeeze me with that tight pussy of yours.” He groans when you do just that, cock twitching inside you. “Fuck me baby.” He whines, wanting to feel you move.

You grab onto his shoulder for leverage, lifting yourself up until only the head of his cock is notched inside of you. You meet those entrancing dark brown eyes of his and sink down. Starting a little slow but building up the pace until you are rocking your hips on his cock.

“Fuck.” He pants out the word, loving how you feel around him, riding him. He caresses your hip and looks down to watch you take him. “Look at that. That pussy must be so full.”

"It is. Oh fuck. It is. I - never been this full." You admit shifting to lean back. Your hands braced on his knees as you grind forward, allowing him an even better view to see your pussy. "Fuck. This is just - so good."

Dieter is entranced, loving how your lips are stretching around him. It makes him throb and he reaches down and rubs your clit. Loving your gasp and the way your body shudders. “You look good on my cock.” He groans.

“Feels so good.” Your thighs start to shake and you nearly collapse backwards as you try to continue grinding down on his cock. It becomes too much, his fingers on your clit and the head of his cock hitting just right on every grind down, makes you fall apart. Your cry of pleasure echoes off of the walls and you slump forward as your thighs shake violently with your orgasm.

He whimpers at how tight you squeeze him, hissing through his teeth and letting go of your clit so he can start rolling you over. Needing to cum himself. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He groans out. “So perfect.” He starts to jackhammer his hips, carelessly chasing his own high while you thrash underneath him.

You cling to him, wrapping your legs around him to push him deeper as he thrusts hard and deep into you. “Cum for me baby. Cum for me.” You plead, wanting to feel him fill you up. “Please Dieter. Cum for me.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” It’s all Dieter can manage as he careens towards another orgasm. Looking down at you as he starts to cum. Hissing out in pleasure as the vein in his temple throbs and his entire body locks up as he buries his cock deep and starts to fill you up.

“So good. So good.” You choke as his cock throbs inside of you, painting your walls with his cum and you send a silent thanks to your birth control. “Baby. Oh baby.” You sigh, rubbing his back as he works himself through his orgasm.

When he’s done, he collapses against you, snuggling into your chest and tucking his head into your neck. Unwilling to let this moment end right now. Soon enough you will put that wall back up and try to keep him at a distance. “Fuck.” He slurs, feeling slightly drunk on pleasure. “Best birthday ever.”

You stroke his back, kissing his neck. “Happy birthday baby.” You murmur, closing your eyes and trying to ignore the way your heart flutters. He may be your husband on paper but after this weekend, this can’t happen again. You can’t afford for it to happen again. You need to be serious and focus on his image and the press. Work through this until you can quietly divorce.

He can feel when you start to pull away, shuffling under him. Dieter groans and starts to move off of you, pulling out of you gently and flopping onto his back with a sigh. Staring up at the ceiling and wishing that he could be granted a birthday wish.

“I, uh, need to pee and then we should get some sleep. We have an early flight back to L.A.” You tell him, shuffling off of the bed to make sure you don’t get his cum over the mattress. While you pee, you rub your eyes, uncaring of your mascara as you try to figure out what to do. You don’t know what to say to him after you just had sex sober bar a few drinks. You weren’t drugged. When you come back into the bedroom, you slide under the covers where Dieter already is. “Night. Happy birthday.” You lean over to kiss his cheek before you turn away, forcing yourself to close your eyes.

“Thanks.” Dieter stares at your back for nearly an hour, watching as you pretend to sleep and then your body relaxes as you finally do give way to sleep. Sighing, he looks back up at the ceiling again and wonders when the hell he had done the dumb thing and fallen in love with you. Rolling his eyes at himself and huffing into the dark. Admitting to himself that he had been enamored with you, and this experience had just made it crystal clear he would never have what he wanted.

The next morning, you and Dieter barely speak to each other, focusing on getting to the private jet and you’re thankful his entourage seems to have disappeared. “I- I know you don’t exactly enjoy being married to me but need to make this look good in public. I can’t - I can’t live with you Dieter. I’m sorry. I just can’t do it.” You don’t tell him why, not wanting to admit that while you hated the party person he is, you have seen a different side to him, a side that you know is the true Dieter. Not the façade he puts on, what he thinks people want from him. His true self is sweet and kind and deep. He’s smart and you wish he would let others see that side of him, not just the party animal.

Dieter’s brow furrows, a hurt expression in his face and he shakes his head. “I don’t want-“ he takes a breath and decides to be honest. “I don’t want to get divorced. I want this to- try it.” He moves from the seat that he was in to drop down onto his knees in front of your own plush leather seat. “Give me six months. Six months really being Mrs. Bravo. If you aren’t happy I’ll give you the divorce. But I- I want this.” He confesses. “I was happy when we got married. I’ve been happy with you.”

You swallow harshly, unable to believe he wants you to be actually married to him. “It’s been two days, Dieter.” You shake your head, knowing you’ll be a 5 minute wonder with him. 

“Please baby. Give me a chance.” He pleads, those pretty brown eyes going glossy and part of you wonders if this is all an act. Even if it isn’t an act, he will get bored of you and if you say no, he will badger you until you say yes. 

You nod, “fine. Six months.” You agree, knowing that he will be begging for a divorce within a couple of weeks when someone else catches his attention.

He lights up, grinning from ear to ear as he pushes up to kiss you. Cupping your cheeks and moaning happily against your lips. “Six months.” He promises. “It’ll be the best six months of your life.” Smirking, he waggles his brows playfully. “And the most orgasms.” He chuckles.

You snort, knowing that he is being true when he says that. He has made you cum more times than any ex lover during an entire relationship and he’s done it in two days. When the plane lands, the paps are swarming near the gate to the private airfield but thankfully, the car is waiting on the tarmac. The cameras flash and people shout as the driver carefully navigates the crowd as he exits the airfield. “God, I hope we are old news soon. Perhaps JLo and Ben will break up soon.” You chuckle, “or maybe Chris Evans gets married and they can focus on him.” You grab your phone, knowing you still need to do your job and you wince at the amount of emails. “You have a lot of interview requests.”

He smirks and nods towards the cameras, giving them a wave before he tucks you close into his side. The luggage is already being transferred and all the two of you need to do is to get to the car. “As long as you are there, book them all.” He shrugs carelessly and reaches over to pluck your phone out of your hand. 

“Dieter!” You huff, reaching for it, but he pulls it out of your reach. “I need that!” You stubbornly insist. He shakes his head and grins at you. 

“No, my wife needs to kiss me in front of the cameras.” He taunts, holding the phone up as hostage. “Gimme a kiss and you can have it back.”

You want to slap him but instead you kiss him, cupping his cheeks and sliding your tongue into his mouth as you kiss your husband. Hoping he gives you his phone back and satisfies the vultures. You hear shouting and you press yourself up against Dieter whose arms are now wrapped around you.

Dieter grins against your lips when you pull back, already half hard and winks at you before he pulls away, handing you the phone back. “That wasn’t so hard, was it, snookums?”

You poke his chest with your phone, "never call me that again if you want your balls, Bravo." You warn playfully and he grins. 

"Whatever you say Mrs. Bravo." His words make you pause and you look down at the ring on your finger, knowing you are going to have a hard time taking it off. It seems too easy, too comfortable with Dieter. Not even 72 hours ago, you hated the obnoxious, reckless movie star and now you, God you can't even fully admit it to yourself, may even love the sweet, smart man standing in front of you. 

"We, uh, need to go." You tell him when the cases are put in the back of the car.

Opening the car door with an exaggerated flourish, he blows as he waits for you to get in before him. Totally hamming it up for the cameras and generally being in a fantastic mood as he climbs in beside you. “You’re going to love the house.” He babbles. “Have to get rid of a few things, the toys that were used with others and whatnot, but it’s perfect.” He grins as he looks over at you. “Unless you want to see the toy collection first?” He asks with raised brows. “Pick out some that you want to keep? They’ve all been sanitized.”

You raise your eyebrows, "uh, how sanitized? You know...I think we can buy some new ones. Maybe pick them out together. That would be a good couples day for the paps. Bravo and wife seen shopping for sex toys." You tease, nudging his arm. "I need to move some things over, the main things I need for everyday, and I will need to get my passport and birth certificate to change my bank account for the time being. I won't legally change my name, just my status. Less complicated."

“Okay.” He pouts, but he won’t argue with you about that. He knows that this is a trial run and you could still decide to divorce him. “I need to order you a card anyway.” He pulls out his own phone to tap out a text message to his manager to get that done for him. “I’m assuming you’re keeping your place?”

You nod, “it’s an incredible rental. Great location. I have another six months left on the rent so I don’t want to let it go. I need somewhere to live. As for the card, I know we joke but I’m not a gold digger. I’ll use it for things for the house or for you but I won’t take advantage.”

He frowns, both at the idea of you going back and the comment about being a gold digger. “Sublet the place and you use the card for whatever you want.” He insists. “I don’t even look at the statements, they just get paid.”

You huff, knowing you can never win. You nod, knowing you won’t use the card unless you need to. You look out of the window and watch L.A pass by as you make your way to his home…your home for the next six months…or less. When you arrive at his home, you are impressed and automatically in love with it. “Your home is beautiful.” You haven’t been to his home before, always conducting meetings by zoom.

The thing that is surprising about where Dieter lives is that Sherman Oaks is a residential neighborhood. It’s not the party scene and he was careful not to let things get too crazy. But often his partying is done in hotels so the neighbors adore him. “We have a pool.” He announces, leering at you. “So you can lay by the pool naked and work on my publicity.” Waggling his brows, he imagines eating you out while you are on a phone call or typing up an email.

You imagine it for a moment, just enjoying your life in your new home until you remember it isn’t your new home, it’s your temporary home. “We will see, huh?” You offer him a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes and you know this entire experience can go two ways: 1) you fall for Dieter hook line and sinker, or 2) you hate him, truly hate him. With a sigh as the car comes to a stop, you thank the driver who opens the door for you and you adjust your purse on your shoulder as you admire the house.

He fidgets beside you, wondering what you think of the house. “I- you can change whatever you want.” He offers quickly. “We can hire a contractor or decorator or whatever.” He knows that most of the house is already decorated, but maybe it’s not to your taste. He gives a shrug. “I’m not sentimental about anything there.”

You shake your head, “it’s beautiful, Diet. Besides, it’s your home and I wouldn’t change anything since I’m going to be here for the next six months.” You say to yourself as much as you say it to him. With a sigh and no response, he guides you into the home, telling you to security codes as he unlocks everything, and he knows you will want to stay in a guest room. He picks the one closest to his bedroom and you admire how clean and pretty everything is. “This room is bigger than my entire apartment.” You joke, setting your purse down.

“I liked the space in this house.” He comments as he hovers in the doorway. The driver is depositing the bags in the entryway and he sighs. “Well, I guess I’ll let you get settled.” He offers, feeling oddly depressed now that you’re here and you don’t seem very enthusiastic about being here.

****

It’s been a few days that you’ve lived with Dieter. He had arranged for movers to collect your things from your apartment and you managed to sublet it for six months. It’s been strange, living with Dieter but not actually living with him. A lot of your work is done remotely so you’ve been hanging around the house, working on the PR disaster of your own making, plus dealing with the interview requests that come in hourly. 

Since you’re so stressed, you decide to take up Dieter’s idea of sitting out by the pool. He is in his art studio, manically painting something when you last looked in on him, and you strip off, wanting to feel the hot sun on your entire body. You hum in delight when you lay down on the lounger, spreading out to enjoy the heat and just relax.

Dieter is in his own private hell. You are here but he feels like he can’t touch you. There’s a wall between the two of you and despite the fact that he had promised you orgasms, you haven’t seemed open to sex. He’s snorted plenty of coke, groaning as his mind mellows out and feels his body relax into a blissful state. Looking out the large double doors to see that you are spread out bedside the pool, naked. Groaning, he grabs a bottle of wine and a glass abs ventures outside.

You hear him approach, his feet slapping on the concrete and you open one eye to look up at your husband. “Hello hubby.” You tease, “brought me some wine?” He nods and pours you a glass, handing it to you. “Thank you.” You sip it and moan in appreciation. “Are you going to get naked and sit in the sun too or are you gonna stand there all day blocking it?” You joke.

It’s an invitation, and Dieter isn’t turning it down. Reaching for the hem of his shirt to drag over his head before he pushes the baggy, paint stained sweats down. His cock isn’t hard, but it’s starting to get that way, seeing your tits on display. “I guess I’m joining you.”

The lounger is big enough for you both and you shuffle over to allow him to lay down. You sip your wine and hand the glass to him so he can take a sip. “How’s your painting coming along?” You ask, admiring him in the sun. God, he’s too sexy for your own good.

“It’s done.” He groans at the taste of the white that he had chosen. “It’s pretty good, I think, but you can see it if you want.” He hands the glass back over to you and nods towards your phone. “Getting my image back in pristine order?” He asks sarcastically, knowing he’s never had a great public image. He’s too much of a wild card.

You chuckle, "that's an impossible task. Those coke snorting photos are still on the internet." You tease, knowing he was younger then. "I am working on it though. Bit hard to paint you as a happily married man when you've been such a whore." You sip the wine, setting the glass down and shifting closer to him. You reach out to trace the tattoo on his chest, unable to stop yourself from touching him when he's so close.

“It’s not like people change.” He huffs, skin tingling when you touch him. “When you're single, who cares who you do?” He smirks over at you. “Not like you didn’t sleep with people, you just didn’t have everyone taking pictures of every one of them and keeping tabs like it was a lottery list of who I was going to fuck next.”

His words hit you and you realize how intense it has been for him to have his entire life under a microscope, constantly photographed. "I'm sorry you've had to deal with that. I have only dealt with it for a week and it has been intense. I can understand why you sought solace in drugs and sex." You look at him as you caress his chest, down to his tummy.

“I’m sorry.” Dieter murmurs softly, feeling bad that you’ve been put through this. “It’s one for the reasons that no one lasts.” He admits quietly. “They either can’t handle the pressure or all they wanted was the press.” He doesn’t mention that he was a shit partner. He was or maybe is (?) selfish. After all, you’re here when you don’t want to be.

You shake your head, looking at him, "you shouldn't be sorry. You are a successful actor. An Oscar winner. You have achieved greatness and you should be with a partner who appreciates that and understands that your life is under the public eye. That you are beloved by the masses. You need someone who can ground you and remind you of the simple things in life like cooking dinner or going for a walk on the beach. You are a good man Dieter, selfish sometimes, but you care too much and I think that's why you haven't found the right person for you."

He bites his lip to keep him from blurting out that he had, but she just hates him. At least doesn’t like him enough to stay married to him. Instead he plasters a shit eating grin. “I always like being ordered around.” He growls suggestively, meaning in the bedroom.

"Yeah?" You tease, sliding your hand lower until you are caressing his thigh, his half hard cock near your touch but you haven't touched him there since Vegas. "You want me to tell you what to do?" You murmur, shifting closer so you can kiss his neck, licking up to the tattoo he has behind his ear.

“Shiiiiiit.” He hisses softly, cock twitching. You touching him is like a drug if it’s own. Making his cock start to throb and grow as he hardens. “Yes.” He huffs out the whine, turning his head to beg him with his eyes. “Order me around.”

You grip his chin, keeping your eyes on him, and you lean closer. “I want you to let me ride your face. I want you to make me cum on your tongue.” You order, knowing he’s hard but you want him to have to wait. This moment is about you. You want to be in charge.

Whimpering, Dieter nods eagerly and pulls his chin out of your grip so that he can slide down the longer and lay flat. “Take a seat.” He groans, licking his lips in anticipation.

You shift, straddling his face, and you exhale shakily as you look down into those beautiful brown eyes, hungry as they flick between your face and your cunt. You lower your pussy to his face and he immediately grabs your hips, practically suffocating himself with your cunt as his tongue slides through your folds. "Fuck!" You yelp, moaning his name as you cling to the top of the lounger for balance.

He groans happily, tasting you and falling in love with the musky, tangy taste. His fingers dig into your hips and he drags you closer. He wants to suffocate himself in you, he would die a happy man right here with your weight on his tongue. Flicking his it against your clit, he groans into your folds when your thighs tighten around his head.

"Oh God baby. Feels so good." You pant, rocking your hips on his face, and you cry out when he sucks your clit between his lips. "Oh God yes." You cry, rocking your hips and using the lounger as leverage to ride his face.

He chuckles, loving that you are letting go. That woman that he had experienced in Vegas is here again, rocking her cunt on your face. Dieter slaps your ass and loves the way you squeal his name again, lurching forward and he slides his tongue deep into your walls, pressing his nose against your clit.

“Oh fuck.” You buck wildly, grinding down onto his mouth as his tongue probes deep, curling and his nose rubs your clit just right. “Shit baby. You’re gonna make me cum. Always - always know just what to do. You’re gonna make me cum and then - then I want you to fuck me. Want you to - to make me scream your name so loud, everyone in this goddamn neighborhood knows you are fuck- fucking me- oh fuck!” You squeal, thighs shaking as he hits just right, sending you over the edge.

You drench him, making him groan and rock you on his face more. Drinking down your juices as they pour into his mouth with a muffled moan of your name as you slowly grind down onto him. Happily coated in your cum and cock throbbing. 

You shake above him, riding your orgasm and you move quickly despite the lethargy the orgasm grants you to shift back and straddle his thighs, gripping his cock to sink down on his hard cock while your walls still flutter from your orgasm.

“Shit!” Dieter cries out your name, shocked by the sudden way you engulf his cock in your pussy. “Oh fuck.” He looks up at you, pussy drunk and still wearing your juices as you start to move. “Oh fuck me baby.” He groans, grabbing and squeezing your tits while you bounce on him.

You want control and you take it, grabbing his wrists and pushing them back to rest against the lounger, stopping him touching you. "You don't get to touch me unless I tell you too." You order, starting to move your hips, grinding down onto his cock. You lean forward, biting down on his chin. "Your cock is mine, I decide when you cum. You understand?"

Wailing his agreement, Dieter nods frantically. “Yours, all yours baby. Oh fuck, it’s all yours.” He babbles. “Have- haven’t jerked off since we - we got back.” He confesses, blushing hotly at the fact.

The fact he hasn't touched himself makes you wild. You start to fuck him, rolling and rocking your hips frantically like you can't get enough of him. "Oh fuck. That - this cock really is mine. Fuck Dieter. It's so good. No one has ever made me feel like this. Love it. Love it." You ramble, sweat beading on your brow as you ride him like a damn bronco.

His fingers wrap around the lounger slats desperate to obey your orders and not touch you. God, he wants to. Your tits are bouncing and he wants to suck on them. He wants to slap your ass and beg you to go faster, to use him to make yourself cum again. “Love- l-love it.” He agrees breathlessly.

Your nails dig into his wrists as you desperately seek your orgasm. “Oh fuck. I’m gonna cum.” You lean forward a little more so the coarse hair at the base of his cock rubs your clit and it sends you over the edge. Coming to an abrupt stop above him as your thighs shake, a wail escaping your lips as you cum, soaking his cock.

Keening at the hot rush of liquid covering him, he bucks up into you. Knowing that he is on the edge but your words linger in the back of his mind. “Can- can I cum?” He begs. “Please, oh fuck, please let me cum.”

You ride your orgasm, catching your breath as you look down to see the desperate look in his eyes. “Not. Yet.” You say through gritted teeth, starting to rock on him again. “I want to cum once more. Do not cum.” You order, wanting him desperate and whining and pleading.

Whimpering, Dieter clenches his eyes shut, knowing that he can’t look at you. If he watches you cum again, he won’t be able to hold back. “Fuck Bravo, think about stocks. Think about your bullshit dealer.” He hisses quietly, trying to keep from cumming before you let him as he shuffles his legs under you and tries not to cum. 

You giggle at his struggle until you moan when you find the right spot inside of you. “Oh fuck Dieter. Feel so good. So good.” You moan, cupping his cheeks after letting go of his wrists. “Keep your hands where they are. You can’t touch.” You remind him, biting down on his bottom lip to stop his ramblings. You are so close to another orgasm, your thighs burning while you grind down onto him.

“Fuck.” He hisses, pouting at you. “You’re so- so, fuck.” His back bows slightly when you clench down around him and he cries out in frustration. “Fuck baby, I-I-I need to cum!”

"No!" You gasp, on the precipice of your own orgasm and you want to deny him. He gets whatever he wants and you have a chance to control this, make him beg. You cup his cheeks before you slap him, making his cock throb inside of you, so close to busting his nut. "Beg. Fucking beg me." You demand, breathless with how close you are.

“Let me cum, please, please, please let me cum.” Dieter whines, his eyes popping open and pleading with you desperately. “Please baby, please I want- I need- oh fuck.” His body goes taunt and his hand grips the slat of the lounger so hard he breaks it, trying to keep himself from cumming.

His pleas send you over the edge and you whine his name as you cum, clamping down on his cock and soaking him again. "Cum for me. Cum for me." You order with a squeal, "fucking cum."

Shouting your name, Dieter follows your order immediately. Whining and whimpering while he experiences the most intense orgasm he’s ever had, not even cognizant of what is coming out of his mouth. “Fuck, I love you, I love you, I love you.”

You freeze on top of him, your entire body going cold as you look down at him. “What did you say?” You whisper. You lean back to look at him, his cock still twitching inside of you and he is blissed out, eyes rolling into his head. “What did you say?” You ask louder, heart pounding in your chest.

Sighing and relaxing, Dieter reaches down and caresses your sides. “Fuck baby.” He pants softly, eyes still closed with a smile on his face. “God I love you.” He slurs and sighs again. “That - was, Jesus, I must have cum a fucking gallon’s worth.”

You slap his chest, shifting to get off of his cock. "Oh my God. What have you done?" You choke, grabbing your towel to wrap it around yourself as you walk into the house, tears stinging in your eyes as you absorb his words, most likely said in the heat of the moment.

Dieter sits up, dumbfounded and staring after you. “What did I do?” He demands loudly, calling after you, but you are already gone. He flops back onto the lounger and huffs, confused and hurt that you hate him so much that you play hot and cold with him. It’s cruel.

After his lust fueled confession, you stay away from Dieter, and avoid him whenever you can. Going to coffee shops to work or going out for lunch by yourself. It's not good for his PR but you manage to go to less popular areas to avoid the paps and anyone taking photos of "Mrs. Bravo" alone. You feel guilty, essentially abandoning your husband but you imagine he has some new pussy or ass to fuck that has distracted him. You usually go to your room, avoiding him, and feeling guilty and angry at your own silly emotions.

Since you left him alone, he’s drank, a lot. Realizing that you don’t love him and it’s almost enough to sober him. Ironic, he fucked around and did whatever he wanted for so long, but now he’s wanting the one person he can’t have. His head is pounding and he wants something to eat that didn’t come from a bag, so he shuffles downstairs to see if there is anything in the fridge. Hating how he feels even more alone than he did before his birthday.

You are bringing in groceries when you find Dieter rifling through the pantry. "You hungry?" You ask, speaking to him for the first time in God knows how long. You can see the dark circles under his eyes and the stains on his clothes. He hasn't been taking care of himself. "I can cook us something. Sit down." You order, setting the grocery bags on the counter.

“‘M fine.” Dieter mumbles, ready to slink off to another part of the house again. To wallow in the misery that he’s created. He’s good at that. “Just gonna order something.”

"Sit down." You tut, knowing he hasn't eaten properly. He never does unless you arrange it. He gets too in his head, too in his art and you know he's been studying that new script. "Sit down and let me make you something." You reach into the fridge to get him a beer and set it down on the counter before you put the groceries away, figuring out a quick pasta meal to cook.

Grunting, he twists the top off the bottle and gulps down half of it before setting it back on the counter. Wiping his mouth on the back of his hand he watches you move through the kitchen as if you own it. “What did I do?” He asks quietly, staring at the counter so he doesn’t have to look at you. He can tell the world to fuck off, but he’s terrified of you hating him.

You set the tomato sauce down and turn back towards him. “You- we agreed to do this for six months and then you go - you told me you loved me. I don’t know if that was in the moment but Dieter - I can’t - you don’t love me. You just - I’m the closest person to you right now so you think you do but you don’t love me.” You turn from him so he doesn’t see the pain in your eyes.

Dieter snorts and huffs out a laugh. “Wow. So you know me that well huh?” He spits, irritated that you keep looking down on him. Treating him like he’s the gum on the bottom of your shoe. “You told me you’d give me an honest chance for six months.” He reminds you. “Nice to know you're counting down the days.” The chair he had sat in scrapes back as he stands. “Wonder why I’m an asshole? I admit how I feel and I get ghosted by my wife. But you don’t really want to be my wife. You’re just biding time.” He tosses the rest of the beer in the trash. “I lost my appetite.” He tells you, turning to walk out of the kitchen, desperate to snort something to make him not give a shit.

You stare as he rushes out of the kitchen, tears stinging in your eyes and you turn to flick off the stove. You clench your jaw, suddenly angry at his dismissal. He always gets the last word. You set the spatula down and follow him, banging your hand on his bedroom door after he slammed it. “You’re such a coward. You told me when you had just cum. What was I supposed to think? That you actually meant it? It’s torture living here. Knowing that you don’t really love me, you’re just - you need attention whereas I am actually in fucking love with your selfish ass and yet I can’t escape because you let us get married while I was high. I just - I hate you. I love you! I love you too, you fucking prick. Is that what you want to hear? Because I do. I can’t stop thinking about you and I thought that if I avoided you I’d save us both the heartache when you move on to the next best thing and instead you decide to mop around and then you - God, I don’t know what to do. You’ve complicated this by making me fall for you.” You slump against the wall opposite the double doors to his bedroom suite.

Snatching the door open, Dieter growls, ready for a fight. “Then fucking leave!” He hiss, grabbing you by the arms and dragging you upright. His eyes are dark and passionate. “Leave if you’re so goddamn miserable, because I’m fucking miserable. I just want to-“ he doesn’t say another word, just crushes his lips to yours desperately. Breaking down and confessing his worst fear. “Don’t leave me.” He begs between sloppy kisses, hands pulling you closer. “Don’t. Fucking. Leave.”

You react immediately to his words, reaching for him to tangle your fingers in his hair and you press your lips to his again. “I don’t want to leave.” You admit against his mouth, sighing his name as you slide your tongue between his lips, finally feeling like you’re home.

He pulls you back and starts to steer you towards his bedroom. He needs to touch you, to taste you. Pushing you through the doors as he continues to keep kissing you. Pawing at your dress in a desperate attempt to get it off of you while he keeps his mouth locked to yours.

“Wait. Wait baby.” You push on his chest, groaning when his lips attach to your neck. “Baby. I - I am on my period.” You warn him, not wanting him to be surprised or grossed out when he fucks you. He might decide not to, if it’s not his thing.

Scoffing, he bites down on your pulse and pulls away. “So? It’s natural.” He tells you casually. “Doesn’t mean I’m not going to lick your pussy until you cum for me.”

You shiver at his words, realizing once again how different he is compared to your exes. That’s why you love him. “Oh God. You are insatiable.” You joke, letting him guide you back towards his massive bed. You haven’t been in here before.

He snickers and nips at your collar bone before he pushes you back onto the plush bed. Throwing off his shirt, he keeps the sweats on, knowing he will want to rush if he strips off too fast. “Yep.” He watches as you pull off your dress and he reaches for your panties, far more practical for your time of the month than sexy. “Period panties turn me on.” He jokes, winking at you. “Played a vampire once.”

You let him drag your panties down and he pushes your legs open, exposing your folds, and you fluster when Dieter finds the string of your tampon. “I- you can leave it in. You don’t - I know it’s not - God I have never done this before.” You fluster, covering your face, “can you leave it in?”

He thinks it’s adorable that you are so worked up over a tampon being inside you. “You’re so fucking cute.” He coos, wiggling his hips and settling between your spread thighs. “Don’t worry baby, it just tastes a little coppery.” He chuckles and peels your lips apart with his thumb. “Not even messy, besides-“ you pull your hands down from your face and look at him. “I eat my steaks rare.” He jokes before he flattens his tongue against your clit.

Your groan is a combination of embarrassment at his words and pleasure of his tongue flicking over your clit. With a whine, you buck your hips into his face and reach down to tangle your fingers in his hair. “Fuck.” You sigh in bliss, having missed this…missed him. “Always so good. You’re so good at that.” You moan when he sucks on your clit.

He wants to make this good for you. Needing you to feel loved and taken care of. Plus he doesn’t mind the way you taste at all. He hums against your flesh when you tug on his hair and grind shamelessly down on his face.

“God, that feels so good, baby. So good. I love it. I- oh shit.” Your head rolls into the pillow, so sensitive from your period, and it doesn’t take long to work you up to your orgasm. His name escapes his lips as you cum when he sucks on your clit.

He groans along with you while you ride out your bliss, watching you carefully and pulling away to kiss your inner thighs while your chest heaves. “Can I fuck you, baby?” He asks softly between kisses. He’s had enough lovers to know that every woman is different during their period. He’s a selfish asshole, but he’s not that big of a dick to expect or demand sex.

“I don’t - I’m sorry. I don’t really like sex during my period. It hurts too much. Can I- I want to jerk you off. Want to watch you cum.” You offer, reaching down to squeeze his cock through his thin sweats.

Dieter kisses your stomach and shuffles up to lay down beside you. “You don’t have to, sweetheart. I don’t expect it.” He promises. “I’m not going to be upset if you just want to lay here and rest.”

“I want to make you cum. Please.” You lean forward to kiss his neck, reaching for his sweats and when he doesn’t push your hand away, you reach in to wrap your fingers around his cock, pulling him free of his sweats. “Such a gorgeous cock and it’s all mine.” You murmur, kissing his jaw as you start to pump him in your hand.

Groaning, Dieter turns his head and chases your lips. “All yours.” He pants into your mouth, groaning again when you squeeze the head. “Fuck, all yours.” He’s needy, lifting his hips into your grip but he doesn’t care. Your touch feels so much better than his own and he wants to fall apart to it.

You love how eager he is for you, and you twist your wrist as you pump him, swiping your thumb over the head of his cock, and you slide your tongue into his mouth when he whines your name. “I love you, baby.” You murmur against his lips, pumping him a little faster before you squeeze the head again, swiping your thumb over it to gather more pre-cum.

Shuddering under your confession, he groans. “Fuck, gonna cum baby.” He warns you, cock throbbing in your hand and one twist of your wrist, he’s cumming. Painting his chest with hot ropes of his sticky seed while you milk him of every drop while he whines. “Love you.”

You work him through it, loving the wrecked look on his face as he enjoys his  orgasm. You kiss all over his face when he relaxes, “so beautiful.” You whisper before bringing your hand up to your mouth to lick his cum from your digits.

“I do love you.” Dieter promises softly. “It’s - I know you think that it’s just some kind of amusement or passing fancy. But I do.” He reaches over and cups your cheek. “I don’t regret marrying you in Vegas for a second.”

You smile, shifting to snuggle into his side, uncaring of his drying cum. “Me neither. I thought I did at first but I look back on it and it was just…comfortable. Like it was meant to be. I know we have a lot to discuss for our future and I know it’s gonna have bumps in the road but I don’t want to pretend to be Mrs. Bravo anymore, I want to be Mrs. Bravo. I want to be yours, your wife. I love you Dieter and I’m so sorry I’ve been such a bitch. It’s just - it’s been a lot to work through and I have needed time to figure out how I feel. I know what I feel and I know what I want…a life with you.”

Dieter beams happily, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours. “Good.” He chuckles against your lips. “Because I want you to be Mrs. Bravo. For real. Us, together.” He waggles his brows. “Will you move into the bedroom with me?” He asks. “Let me snuggle you after sex at least once?”

You smile, nodding at him. “Yes. I’d like that baby. I’d like that a lot.” You sigh, breathing him in. 

“And I want babies.” He adds, making you choke. 

“One step at a time, my love. We have a lot to figure out but we will do it all together.” You promise and he smiles, nudging his nose against yours. 

“Together. I like the sound of that, Mrs. Bravo.” 

You giggle, giddy with happiness that he loves you. “Me too, Mr. Bravo.”

[themultifandomgal]

Tommy Shelby- His Ballet Girl

I had the idea of Tommy dating someone who is a ballet dancer and one of my followers gave me the idea of Tommy cheating on his wife. This does not represent my beliefs, cheating is horrible

Warnings- Tommy cheating on his wife and reader not caring.

YN has been dancing since she could walk, she feel in love with ballet when her parents took her to her first theatre show. From that moment on YN begged her parents for ballet shoes and lessons.

Now being 29 years old she is now dancing in the same show she first saw, The Nutcracker.

YN sits in the garrison with the Shelby's, who she's known for many years. Even though she was from a different social class she always got on with the brothers and Ada, but she's specifically close with Tommy... very close to Tommy.

YN walks through the garrison to their room. Not knocking she walks in and sits next to Arthur 

"Whisky?"

"No thanks Arthur. Have rehearsal early tomorrow"

"How is it going?" Lizzie asks sitting on Tommys lap. Although YN feels a little jealous, she knows that tonight Tommy will be warming her bed not theirs which puts a smile on YNs face

"Good thank you. Are you guys coming to the first show?" YN asks looking around

"Actually I wanted to ask you for a favour" YN looks at Lizzie "I'm not sure if you know this, but Tommy is throwing me a huge party for my birthday" YN did know because Tommy was in her bed moaning about having to throw this party "and I was wondering if you would perform"

"Of course. Tommy can let me know the date" Tommy sits quietly, he's not uncomfortable with this situation, his wife and his mistress talking

"So YN how's your mystery man?" Esme asks

"He's great. Bought me this" YN shows off her necklace

"When are we meeting this mystery man?" Lizzie asks, oh if she only knew

"Not sure. He needs to leave his wife first" Tommy coughs nudging Lizzie off his lap

"I have to get going if I want to get to London at a decent time"

"Ok. I'll miss you" she leans down and kisses his lips

"Yeah you too" he replies leaving the room

"Well I'm going to head off home" Lizzie says saying goodbye to everyone

"You sure you don't want a drink?" Arthur asks

"No I'm good thank you. I probably should also go home, go to bed early. I'll see you all tomorrow".

"When are you telling her?" YN asks Tommy lying in bed

"Soon. I want to get her birthday out of the way" YN groans "I know your having fun messing with her though. Showing off your necklace"

"Yes but she's sitting on you lap, asking me to dance at her birthday, it's a bit fucked"

"You agreed to do it" Tommy chuckles making YN smile

"Yes because I wasn't going to get invited else and I would love to sneak off with you at some point during the day"

"I'm sure you would" YN yawns interrupting Tommy "tired?"

"Mmm" YN hums

"Go to sleep. I'll be here in the morning" Tommy kisses her forehead.

Weeks later and it's Lizzie's birthday, she's going around bragging about how amazing Tommy is for making this party possible. YN is stretching before performing when Esme walks over to her

"I know who the mystery man is"

"I'm guessing you spoke to the spirits" YN jokes standing up

"Don't be stupid YN. How long have have you and Arthur been sleeping with each other?"

"Arthur!" YN yells getting you "you think I've been sleeping with Arthur?"

"Well you sit next to him every time we're at the garrison, he's always getting you a drink, taking you home"

"I promise you it's not Arthur" YN watches as Tommy walks into the house without Lizzie "I'll be back later Esme" YN follows Tommy into the house looking for him. Suddenly she's pulled into another room by Tommy locking the door behind him. His lips are immediately on YN's smudging her lipstick.

"Who the hell is it Thomas?" Lizzie whisper yells at Tommy while YN is performing. After Tommy and YN's rendezvous Tommy went back to his wife, not knowing their was lipstick on his shirt

"I'm not doing this now Lizzie"

"Not doing... it's my birthday and you've been fucking someone?"

"Lizzie" Tommy sighs rubbing the temples of his head "just enjoy your birthday and we will talk about this tomorrow" Lizzie crosses her arms in a huff and turns to look at YN who's dancing. She notices YN glances in their direction, she looks at Tommy and notices him staring at her. That's when it clicks

"It's her. You fucking bastard Thomas Shelby" Lizzie storms off but Tommy doesn't go after her. He stays to watch YN.

[crashandlivewrites]

👀👀 let me throw you some kyle coded quotes. do what you wish with it 🫴

"If the choice is the mission or coming home to you, I’m coming home."

"There will always be another mission, _ , but there won’t always be another you."

This has been sitting in my inbox for a wee bit and I’m sorry it took so long. Thank you for sending this through! I hope I did it justice for you.

Pairing: Kyle Garrick x GN!Reader

CW: slight angst, relationship troubles, but comfort and happiness because Kyle is the sweetest boy <33

You loved your boyfriend. With all your heart. Kyle was the sweetest guy you’d dated, the most caring and attentive man you could have ever hoped for. But every relationship has their gripes and unfortunately, Kyle’s job was yours.

It was important, you knew that. He saved countless lives every time he went away, putting himself in danger in the process. But the fact he was gone so often made everything hard. He often missed important events; wasn’t home for your birthday or your anniversary or the holidays in general.

Despite you trying to be understanding, sometimes you couldn’t help but feel a sense of unwanted frustration towards your boyfriend. He made it up to you whenever he was back, you knew that, but it wasn’t the same. And you selfishly wished for more.

“I want you to be here more!” You yelled at him in frustration one night, having one too many drinks. “I know your job is hard—”

“No, you don’t know how hard it is. You have no idea what I go through.” Kyle snapped back, just as agitated.

“And you have no idea what it’s like sitting here waiting for you, watching all my friends and their partners and wishing I had that instead of praying you’re not dead.” Shaking your head in exasperation. He just laughed darkly, rolling his eyes.

“Sorry for getting my hands dirty so the world stays clean. Do you have any idea how dangerous some of these arseholes are?” Groaning in frustration, you push past him, walking down the hall to your shared bedroom.

“You’re missing the point.” Gritting your teeth, you huffed out a breath. “I’m not a priority for you.”

The harsh words make him stop, no longer stomping after you. It’s enough to make you turn around, and the hurt expression on his face immediately makes you feel guilty.

“What makes you think I don’t?” He whispered, voice barely audible as he blinked with uncertainty. Ducking your head, you look away from him, not being able to stomach the expression on his face anymore.

“It’s just… you always leave. There’s always something more important than me.” His expression twists with anguish and steps forward with two strides, hand closing around your wrist.

“Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that.” The dark brows on his forehead were pulled tightly together. His warm eyes, usually so calm and comforting, were wide and panicked. “You’ve always been a priority to me.”

The tears pricked in your eyes as his words dug into your skin, pulling down the defences you’d tried so hard to build around yourself. Shaking your head, you try to push him away, wiping furiously at your cheeks.

“I don’t feel like it, Kyle. You’re gone so often. And I know it’s important and I know I’m being selfish, but I don’t know how much more of this I can take!”

As if the universe decided to play a cruel joke on you, his phone began to ring. Kyle winced, closing his hand around your wrist tighter as he dug into his pocket. You knew whose name would appear on the screen before he even needed to tell you.

“It’s Price.” His voice sounded wounded, broken as he looked up at you, eyes desperate and pleading as the phone continued to buzz in his hand.

“Go on. Answer it. It’s important.” The iciness of your tone couldn’t be missed, despite trying to keep your expression dismissive.

“Fuck, babe, please.” He begged, keeping a firm hold on you and not letting you walk away. “I can fix this. We can fix this. I just—”

“You need to take it. Yeah, I know.” Shrugging, you leaned back against the wall, watching him as he gave in, putting the phone up to his ear.

“Sir?” The shift between Kyle and Sergeant Garrick was something you used to find attractive, enticing. Now, it just left a bitter taste in your mouth.

You watched the one sided conversation closely, Kyle’s face becoming more and more strained. His jaw twitched as he grit his teeth and you sighed, knowing what was inevitably coming. Flicking his eyes towards you, he saw the hurt on your face, the sad acceptance and his own heart pounded before opening his mouth.

“Actually, Captain, I was thinking about taking a bit of time off.” At his words, your ears pricked and head snapped up to meet his gaze. He met your eyes as his thumb tenderly grazed against the back of your hand. “Yeah, sir. Just something important that I need to attend to here.”

Dropping your wrist, he lifted his hand up to cup your cheek tenderly, pressing his forehead against yours. At this distance, you could hear the tinny voice of his captain coming through the phone speaker.

“Alright Kyle. Take care of yourself. And take care of that partner of yours. You’ve put them through hell this last year.”

“I know, sir. Need to sort out my priorities. See you in a few weeks.” And he hung up the phone, pushing it into his pocket and lifting the hand to join his other.

The pair of you remained there for longer than you cared to admit, your face tenderly held between his hands as you breathed deeply.

“You mean more to me than I ever could express. What you do for me, I couldn’t ask for someone better.” Curling your hands into the fabric of his shirt, you tugged him closer. Sliding under the cotton, you rested your palms on the warm, firm skin of his torso.

“I’m sorry—”

“No, you don’t need to apologise. I’m sorry.” He lifted his head up to look down at you with sincerity. “I have been putting work first, and not you. It always should have been you.”

“But I said those hurtful things—”

“Because you were upset, love. It’s okay.” His voice was smooth as he pulled you into his chest, wrapping his strong arms around you. “I love you, babe. So fucking much. I’m sorry I made you feel that way.”

Being wrapped in his arms had always made you feel safe, and this time was no different. Breathing in, you let his familiar scent surround you, settling deep into the back of your mind as you hugged him back tightly.

“Still no excuse for saying all that stuff before. The work you do is important. If you need to leave… I understand.” Deep down, you knew it was the right things to say. If Kyle was being called to work, it was something important and as much as you wanted him for yourself, others needed him more.

“No, love. I’m not going anywhere. There will always be another mission, but there won’t always be another you.”

Letting out a breathy chuckle, you lifted your head out of his chest, staring up at him with a soft smile.

“You really mean that?” His deep brown eyes sparkled with mischief as he backed you against the wall, tilting your chin up and lowering his face to seal his lips over yours.

His fingers curled into the hair at the base of your neck, holding you close as his lips moved slowly, dragging out the kiss. His warm breath fanned over your cheek as he groaned, cupping your cheek and letting his teeth drag across your bottom lip before pulling back.

You knew your lips were already swollen, the temperature of your body rising as your breath came out in short pants.

“If the choice is the mission or coming home to you, I’m coming home.” He whispered, thumbs tracing against your cheekbones. “You are what’s important to me.”

[imaginesbymonika]

Futile Devices | Part 3

Pairing: Noel Gallagher x childhood-best friend!reader

Plot: There's nothing quite like realizing your feelings once it's too late. But what would life be without a speck of hope?

Previous part

He‘s observing you. His blue eyes are moving up and down your body as if it’s a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence. Something that would vanish as quickly as it appeared in front of him. His friends sitting next to him are all trying to talk to him. Their mouths are close to his ears, trying their absolute best to get just a fraction of his attention. But God, he just couldn’t care any less. Even if he would try to make an effort to care (a gun to his head and all that) he just physically couldn’t bring himself to it.

He hates the loud music that is blasting from the speakers. Noel finds pop music obnoxious and aggravating.

“It’s just made to make a lot of money!”, he had told you one evening. “What about the Spice Girls?”, your question earned you a rolling of eyes. And he had said something along the lines of “them specifically!” Yet, right this second he’s their biggest fan; forever grateful that they produced ‘Say You’ll Be There’. And maybe, just maybe he has to thank them in person the next time he sees them at the Brit’s. Perhaps even apologize for what his fool of a brother said about them.

“Any fool can see they’re falling”, you loudly sing along, throwing your upper body forward. You’re facing your friend who is mirroring your movements:” I gotta make you understand: I’ll give you everything, on this I swear, just promise you’ll always be there!” Your singing was followed by a giggle.

Noel chuckles while taking another sip of his drink. He would do that, just for the record- if anyone cared to ask him. His eyes move down to your hips and monitor closely how they sway to the rhythm. However, when two big hands find their way onto the soft material of your dress he clenches his jaw. Damon. Fucking Damon Albarn. Your new boyfriend.

“You’re fucking joking.”, Noel said, while running his hand down his face. “Well, he’s really nice!”

“Oh! He’s nice!”, Noel repeated your words, his voice thick with annoyance and mockery:” You do know that his band and my band have this thing going on, right?”

“You mean that stupid rivalry?”

Noel closed his eyes in unadulterated frustration and leaned back against the couch:” Stupid riva-. I can’t believe this.” He shook his head in disbelief. Just the mental image of you and Damon together made his blood boil. “Imagine if I was dating Lily!” Now it was your turn to stare at him in shock:” That is not the same, Noel! She stole my boyfriend!”

“And Damon stole my awards.”, he angrily answered even though he desperately wanted to say your name instead.

“Are you okay?”, a voice next to him snaps him back into the present, and when Noel twists his head in the direction of the voice he makes eye contact with a stunning blonde. He swallows thickly. “Yeah, I’m good.”, Noel lies. Out of the corner of his eye, he can catch a glimpse of how you and Damon make out with one another.

The woman in front of him chuckles, while her eyes roam the crowded room before landing back on his lips:” Want to get out of here?” And without glancing back at you he simply nods his head.

[by-speaker]

Graveyard Dare, (ENG. VER.)

Prompts by @raven-cincaide-words

When you're a teenager you often do stupid things, like drink and smoke, kick mailboxes, have unprotected sex, well the list goes on and on. But this was definitely the stupidest thing Philza had ever done in his entire life. 

Why, you ask? Well, he revived the god of death with a kiss. 

Yes, they had been drinking, but it was the last night of his senior year, Philza was the only one without a date for prom, Fit, Cellbit, Charlie and even Foolish, were teasing him because he had never kissed in his life. 

They were doing the only thing teenagers do in a small town, walking around and drinking beer, until, without quite knowing how, they came to the cemetery. 

They jumped over the fence and started eating Doritos and biscuits at the foot of the statue of the god of death. 

It was very cold in the cemetery, but with so much beer in their bodies they didn't really feel it, between jokes, the subject of Phil's first kiss came up again. 

‘How come you haven't had your first kiss, Philza?’ asked Roier, genuinely interested in the answer. 

‘Yes, Philza, how?’ scoffed Cellbit, taking advantage of his boyfriend's question.

‘Uh… well, unlike you guys, I need my grades to be near perfect to get scholarships.’ Philza said, taking a big gulp from her can. 

Fit let out a laugh, ‘Fucking orphan.’ 

‘Shut up, baldy.’ Philza said, throwing the empty can at Fit. 

Fit dodged the can, which landed on Pac who was sitting next to him, ‘Oops, offended the prince.’ Fit laughed. 

‘Hey, maybe what Phil needs,’ said Charlie, leaning on his boyfriend, Mariana, ’is a little help from the supernatural.’ He said, pointing upwards. 

They all looked up, the statue of the god of death, Moris, was standing there, his closed eyes and skull mask glowed almost like something mysterious, his scythe was what held him up, and his robes rather flattered him, no doubt the god was a beautiful thing to behold. 

Philza snorted, though he wasn't going to deny that the idea intrigued him, but he wasn't going to admit that, ‘Don't be ridiculous.’ 

‘Dare, dare,’ his friends began to chant, which angered Philza, who staggered to his feet. 

‘Bet?’ said Phil, clearly not in his five senses, ’look at me.’ 

A couple of shouts of victory were what followed on his short walk up the pedestal with the statue. 

‘That must be illegalisimo,’ he heard Vegetta say, ’or at least not very hygienic.’ 

Philza closed his eyes and planted his lips on the statue's cold lips, for a moment everyone fell silent as he heard a couple of claps of thunder fall. 

‘Shit!’ shouted Foolish, ’Let's go before it starts raining!’

So they ran, like the rats in Ratatouille, each one for home, praying that it wouldn't start raining before they got home. 

Philza didn't really think much of what had happened, until in the early hours of the morning, around 4am, she opened her eyes and a man was standing in her room. 

Philza sat up with a start, opening his eyes wide, in front of him was a teenager about his age, his black hair reached his shoulders, his eyes shone like galaxies, his skin was pale as if the sunlight hadn't touched him, his black clothes looked as if the universe itself had folded to create the fabric. 

‘Who? Who are you?’ shrieked Philza, cornering himself between the wall and his bed, ’What are you doing here?’ 

‘But, querido, don't you remember,’ the boy said, ’you kissed me today, I am Missa, you woke me up, now you are mine.’

A shiver ran down his spine, what on earth had he got himself into?

[sukiipjs]

✮ CARNIVAL

°:. *₊ ° . ☆ °:. *₊ ° . ° .•

↳ nick sturniolo x masc reader

↳ words - 1441

↳ summary - you and nick have a fun date at the carnival, enjoying all the food, all the rides, and each others company<3

↳ contains - swearing, use of y/n, pet names (babe), it’s just fluff

↳ song - can’t take my eyes off you by frankie valli

°:. *₊ ° . ☆ °:. *₊ ° . ° .•

°:. *₊ ° . ☆

nick 🙉

| i’m coming to pick you upppp, u ready?

| YESSS I CANT WAIT

me and nick are celebrating valentine’s day, he doesn’t know where we’re going yet buuuut im taking him to the carnival, where we had our first date, also one of his favorite places.

im all ready and i sit in my car, texting nick for a moment before turning the key and backing out of my driveway, driving to his. after a while i finally reach his house and i park, getting out of the car and stepping up to his door.

nick 🙉

| open up, i’m here 🫶

right after that sends i hear the door unlock as it flys open, nick standing right in front of me, a huge smile on his face before he pulls me in for a hug and a kiss, “happy valentine’s day babe” i smile after pulling away from the kiss, “happy valentines” he says back softly before taking my hand and leading me inside, closing the door behind us.

i lean on the wall by the fridge as nick gets us each a pepsi, i crack mine open and take some sips, “well…? where are we going?” the question makes me smile as i shake my head a little, “can’t tell you yet, you’ll see though, soon enough” he rolls his eyes, drinking his pepsi.

we sit and talk for a few minutes before getting up, nick grabbing his things and heading out the door. he walks up to the passenger seat about to open it but i run up and grab the handle, opening it for him, “after you” i bow a little as i joke, he laughs and rolls his eyes again, “whatever y/n” i run back around to my door and get in it, turning the key and pulling out of the driveway once again.

“sooooo? now will you tell me?” i turn my head to him for a quick moment giving him a look then turning back, “it’s a surprise, not yet.” he groans and laughs a little.

as i drive he pulls out his phone, looking at himself in his camera, taking a few pics and some of us. it’s about an hour drive to get there, not that bad though. nick leans against the window of the door, either scrolling on his phone or talking to me.

eventually we’re close, to the point where he would definitely know where we’re going, “can you tell where we’re at?” i smile looking over at him for a second, he sits up a little, moving his head off the window and looking out it, his face lights up as a big smile plants on his face. he quickly turns his head to me after seeing where we’re going, “no fucking way.” i laugh, “see? the surprise was worth it,”

we get to the parking lot as i park into a place and stop the car. “you like this?” i ask, turning to him as i put the keys in my pocket, “i love this.” he smiles, leans towards me, sealing our lips together before we pull away, smiling wide then stepping out of the car. he walks over to my side of the door and we start to walk to go inside the fair and get our tickets.

“so, what should we do first?” i smile as we sit on a bench, figuring out what to do. “well… what about a roller coaster?” my eyes widen a little as i shake my head, “uhhh no. definitely definitely not.” i’ve never been on a roller coaster and honestly i’m really scared too, nick loves them and our first time here i just watched him go on one. “cmooon. you could love them, you don’t know” he nudges me as i roll my eyes, “ehhhh… how about later!” he scoffs and laughs a little, “yeah sure. i’m gonna make it happen though.” he tilts his head toward me laughing.

“here let’s go get some funnel cakes or something,” i get up from the bench as i hold my hand out for him, he takes it and gets up too. we walk over to a stand, we get two funnel cakes and a lemonade and we sit back down at a table.

we talk and laugh as we eat, we finish up, throwing away the styrofoam plates and the cup of lemonade, “fine.” he looks over to me confused, “fine what?” i sigh a little as i smile at him, “i’ll go on a roller coaster,” his jaw drops then it turns into a smile, “OH MY GOD! FINALLY.” i scoff and put my hands over my face to hide for a moment, “whateverrrr, don’t be so excited. i’m fucked,” i laugh a little, trying to not be so nervous.

he takes my hand immediately and we run to his favorite roller coaster as the attendant puts us in seats, other people getting in too. i lean over to nick a little as i grip my hands onto the bar in front of us. “i’m scared..” he laughs a little and puts his hand out so i can hold it, i take one of my hands off the bar and squeeze onto his. “don’t be.” i sigh a little as i hear the ride about to start…

the roller coaster speeds up and it goes up high then drops fast, i grip onto the bar as i scream maybe as much as i ever had, “HOLY FUCKKKKKK,” i can barley hear nicks laughs as he screams too, not in a fearful way like me though, luckily for him! the wind blows in our hair as the ride twists and turns, the ups and downs getting to be more and more.

eventually it stops and me and nick get off, “we should not have eaten before that, oh my god.” i put my hand on my head for a moment, my dizziness fading. nick laughs a little as he fixes his hair up, “well? do you like love roller coasters now?” i laugh a little as we lean against the back of some stand, “yeah, no. i mean i don’t think i’m scared anymore but.. i definitely do not love them” he laughs more, “oookay, whatever.” he rolls his eyes a little.

“well i did your roller coaster, let’s do bumper carts,” i smile looking over at him and taking my hand off my head finally. “okay, fair” i love bumper carts, nick thinks they’re boring, whatever though!

we run off to the bumper carts, playing for a while, then to the house of mirrors, then to other rides and places. it’s been a good two hours and the suns already setting. we go over to get more food, two slushies, nick is cherry and mine blue raspberry.

“ferris wheel?” i swallow my sip of the slushy as i nod, “definitely.” our mutual favorite ride, especially at this fair, it’s slow and has a perfect view of the sunset, nice to just relax for a moment.

we get in the cart of the ferris wheel as it slowly moves around. the sun almost fully set as the fireworks they have at night are almost ready.

nick pulls out his phone and takes the perfect picture of our shoes on the ride and the sunset in a beautiful view, “that’s so cute,” he says as he shows me the picture, “you’re so cute,” i say giggling a little, looking up from his phone to see his eyes. he laughs and turns his head a little even though i see the slight blush on his face, “whatever,”

as we sit on the ferris wheel, watching the sun fully disappear as the fireworks start up, lighting the sky again, also in perfect view. nick leans his head on my shoulder as we sip our slushies, my arm moves around to his shoulder, leaning my head on top of his slightly.

he takes his head off my shoulder and turns toward me, we look at each others eyes before he puts his hand on my face, pulling me in and closing the gap between our lips, “this is so perfect, thank you so much y/n,” i smile as i pull him in for another kiss, “i just wanted to make this really special, i’m so glad you like it,”

he puts his head back on my shoulder as we rest. “i love you nick,” i smile so much even though he doesn’t see, i stare at the fireworks and thinking of how this moment could get any better, “i love you too.”

☆ °:. *₊ ° . °

taglist : @slutforchriss @mattsleftnipple03 @mattsdinosweater @ccolleenn @mixvchelle @leah-loves-lilies @sturn-wrld

[tgmsunmontue]

Online & Anonymous 9/16

Hangster. Explicit. Years before they meet in person Bradley and Jake strike up a friends-with-benefits relationship online. And then something more like an actual relationship.

Odd year = Bradley's POV and Even year = Jake's POV

>>Bradley chatting (bold and italics)

>>Jake chatting (italics)

2005/2006 2007 2008 2009 2010 2011 2012 2013

2014 – Jake

                Jake looks at the dates Nick has said he’s on leave and looks at his own calendar and scowls. It’s getting beyond a joke now and he feels like kicking something. Instead he goes for a long run, feet pounding the pavement in frustration. There’s nothing, not even a few days. Of course plans can change rapidly, which is what fucked them over in the past, so maybe it will act in their favor this time. He can only hope.

…            …            …

>>You know, with Taylor Swift’s new album I could put 1989 back in my username and everyone would assume I was just a fan.

>>You know who Taylor Swift is?

>>I’m a country fan. I like her older stuff.

>>Also I don’t live under a rock.

>>Old man.

>>Like you can talk.

>>You had your original birth year as 1986, you trying to make yourself younger now huh?

                Jake lets out a laugh, because this right here is how he knows he’s still talking to the same guy he started chatting to nearly ten years ago.

>>Nick, I’m thirty soon. That’s the age gay men die.

>>I’ll have a wake.

>>Bullshit. Don’t buy into that.

>>Life isn’t over when you magically turn 30.

>>Life just gets better. That’s how I feel anyway. Got my best years ahead of me.

>>Also I’m over thirty and I’m not chatting with you from my grave.

>>You might be. How would I know?

>>I might be dead by the time we actually get to meet the rate our luck is going.

…            …            …

                He knows the year is going to be a complete write-off when he enters the rec-room and Bradley Bradshaw is sitting there chatting with Omaha and Slipper. He can’t help but notice the two bars and tries to not let it bug him, knows it’s barely any distinction but it still rankles. As does the rejection, which is months ago now, it hadn’t been a stinging rejection by any stretch of the imagination, but it had definitely been a shutting down of anything, and those two-bars will be another reason or excuse Bradshaw will throw out there if Jake tries his luck again.

                Not that he will. He does note that Bradshaw hadn’t said he wasn’t gay, which is usually the first thing out of a straight man’s mouth when he’s asked out for a drink. Unless he’s completely oblivious, and if he’s being uncharitable then maybe he can think that Bradshaw is oblivious. But while he might not have taken Jake up on the offer of a drink, he’d been very quick to take Bambi out to dinner and then take her back to his place, where she’d spent the night. He’d thought he’d caught Bradshaw looking, but he wonders if it was just wishful thinking. Part of him wishes he was ignorant about all of it, but their base housing had all been too close for him not to notice.

                And now here he is.

                Stuck on a carrier with him for the next few months.

                And the fucker has gone and grown a fucking moustache.

…            …            …

                Fortunately Bradshaw seems to be content to keep his distance from Jake, almost like he’s wary of him; he also isn’t friendly, not like he is with nearly everyone else. Jake isn’t an idiot, he can extrapolate from that that Bradshaw doesn’t like him. He already suspected that was the case, and it rankles a little, but he tries to remind himself that not everyone has to like him. Something both Nick and Javy tell him. They’re in different squads, so fortunately the mutual avoiding each other is fairly straightforward.

                What does amuse him though is that Bradshaw has picked up a new callsign, Rooster, and the fact that he knows the origin makes him smirk every time he sees it on his helmet or flight suit. That probably doesn’t help endear him to the other man either, but Jake will keep his fairly benign callsign until someone gives him another one, or he does something either stupid or brave to earn one. He keeps up his Snapchat photo streak with Nick, although he does note the change of background of the morning coffee cup. Looks like every other fucking coffee cup on every naval carrier in the fleet.

                He looks up how many people are currently serving in the Navy and pulls a face at the number. 319,120. He’s one, and Nick is another. He supposes he should feel lucky that he at least knows Nick is Navy, because there are 1.35 million in the US military combined, which is an even more mind-boggling number when he tries to think about possibly of somehow just randomly bumping into Nick.

                Stranger things have happened though.

…            …            …

                “You don’t like me.”

                “I don’t know you,” Bradshaw replies, face bland and Jake responds with an equally bland smile.

                “And who’s fault is that?”

                He walks out of the rec room.

…            …            …

                He rings Javy to complain the next time they have shore leave, and for his credit Javy just lets him rant for a solid five or ten minutes before he tries to interject with anything.

                “Okay man. He really seems to get under your skin. I don’t know what to tell you, because I haven’t had any issues with him. He’s been… cool. He’s pretty chill and laid back, at least with all my interactions with him. Is there anything that you could have done that maybe annoyed him? More than just work shit that is…”

                “Oh. Uh.”

                “Jake… what’d you do?”

                “I asked him out?”

                “Seriously? With the whole attitude you gave him while we were at Top Gun you thought he’d say yes?”

                “I figured it couldn’t hurt to try.”

                “Well, I’m pretty sure he’s got something serious going with someone, at least, that’s what I’ve heard.”

                “Bunch of fucking gossips…”

                “Yeah well.”

                He suspects Javy has got his intel from Natasha Trace, and if that’s the case then it’s probably solid and correct. He doesn’t know what to think when he pairs that with the idea of Bradshaw having something serious but also having Bambi sleepover at the end of their Top Gun detachment. Unless the something serious is Bambi, which is also possible. Huh. He doesn’t say anything else though, because he doesn’t want to care anymore about Bradley fucking Bradshaw than he already does, annoying asshole. He does feel like he’s been a bit of a dick himself though, his comment he made about the fault being his that they don’t know each other. Jake isn’t usually that defensive, knows it’s got to be because Bradshaw turned him down, but he has to respect the guy if he does have something going with someone, because Jake wouldn’t have known, likely wouldn’t have ever found out, and he knows plenty of guys do.

                Too late to do anything about it now though.

…            …            …

>>You still out there having shitty sex?

>>Hey now.

>>I don’t go looking for bad sex.

>>It just happens to me.

>>You clearly have a gift.

>>Wow.

>>Thanks man.

>>Truly I am blessed.

>>You want a picture to cheer yourself up?

                Jake can’t type his reply fast enough, the pictures and videos that Nick sends him few and far between but so good, and he’s starting to develop a thing for long fingers. Especially when they’re wrapped around a cock, and he’s mentioned to Nick that the idea of Nick’s hand wrapping around both of them gets him hot. The picture that comes through is gorgeous, Nick reclining and the picture down the length of his body, one leg stretched straight, the other bent, his cock hard in his hand as he jerks himself. The lighting is warm, like it was taken at either sunset or sunrise, all pink and peach hues. They’ve both improved in taking pictures, and he takes a screenshot so he can stare at it properly later rather than getting flustered about the time bar getting smaller.

>>Saw you take that screenshot.

>>What are you going to do about it?

>>Nothing. Just letting you know that I know you’re going to jerk off to it more than once.

>>Yep.

>>Going to work myself over thinking about getting my mouth on you, sinking down on your cock.

>>I can’t exactly take toys with me when I’m deployed, but I can finger myself and imagine that it’s you.

>>God Jas. Send me a picture?

>>Sure thing.

…            …            …

                Bradley and his squadron leave the carrier after four months and Jake wishes he was leaving as well. Nick has leave soon, it would line up beautifully, but he’s got another three months of this deployment, and then he has four weeks of leave, but Nick is meant to be deployed again by then. The tide has not magically turned in their favor and lined up their leaves and he keeps his most bitter disappointment to himself.

…            …            …

>>Well, you aren’t the only one having shitty sex. Man some guys are dicks.

>>What happened ? Or should I not ask?”

>>Just a hook up. Blew the guy and he didn’t even reciprocate. Tried to give me a handjob but he wasn’t even trying or into it.

>>That doesn’t seem fair?

>>Well, it’s not always fair, but I’d kind of gone in hoping for reciprocation as a bare minimum. Ah well. Can only go up from here.

2015

[takemealivelh]

heart is gonna flatline || l.h.

tour puts luke and lucy's feelings to the test. addiction to sex, alcohol and weed for when things get hard. SMUT.

this was so fun to write ! loved to participate in the @5sos-fic-fest this year. hope you enjoy this. here's the ao3 link.

7.1 k

FEEDBACK IS ENCOURAGED AND APPRECIATED

Prompt Au where the characters are both famous musicians with their own projects who have a well-documented public friendship. When they announce a tour together fans go crazy, as do the shippers. As the tour progresses, maybe the shippers are on to something…

Pop-rockers 5SOS and Latina indie-rocker Lucía Huerta announce tour together Last year, there were rumors about the frontman of the Australian band -Luke Hemmings, 27- and relatively new sensation Lucía "Lucy" Huerta, 28. They'd been caught leaving West Hollywood bars together, late at night, on numerous occasions. They put the speculation to a stop when in June 2023 Lucy uploaded an Instagram story of her and the blond having a drink. She tagged Hemmings and wrote "that's the homie", to which Luke replied in his own stories "that's me :)". They've been seen hanging out repeatedly since then, but it doesn't seem any more platonic than work friends. And speaking of work friends, 5 Seconds of Summer and Huerta just announced a 2024 tour that definitely excited fans, not just because of the vibrant shows they expect to see later in the year, but also because they want to see how the relationship of the two stars will develop during the four-month North American dates. Here at Music Getaway, we'll definitely keep a close eye on them.

-

"i'm not ready to tell them yet," lucy says to his boyfriend as she leaves the coffee cup on the kitchen counter next to them. they've been dating for eight months. it's been hard to hide their relationship from the press, and luke isn't too keen on the idea. he actually hates it. but he loves lucy. he loves that she's a talented musician, her laugh, her jokes and her business smarts. and he just can't enjoy this in peace, not with being so secretive.

"you've been saying that for months now. when are you gonna be okay with this? with us?" luke doesn't get it. why hide when they go out on dates and he can finally press a hand on her ass in public to stop the thirst traps people seem to tag her on. hoping to get a chance with her? fuck no. the blond wants her all to himself, he can't deny that.

lucy twists her lips, stalling. the smell of freshly brewed breakfast coffee dancing around them. "you don't understand." she finally says, reaching a hand to touch his arm for a few seconds. the thought of being out in the open with luke would change everything. "people will treat me differently. they might not respect me anymore."

"what are you talking about?"

"luke, come on. i got my own interview with kelly clarkson and then i played the iheartradio festival." they'd been incredible opportunities. "all of my hard work goes away the minute they know we're together. they'll say oh she was fucking the rockstar and he got her those big breaks. i don't want that. i don't want people to minimize my efforts."

luke sighs and shakes his head. "is that what's more important?" lucy shrugs. "okay," he finally says.

"okay?"

"yeah. it's fine. i get it. i won't bring it up again."

lucy throws her arms around his neck. "thank you," she whispers before kissing his lips softly. "i love you."

-

luke sits with ashton outside the rehearsal room. they've been playing for nearly two hours and they need a breather, especially because luke's mind is spinning. "i don't know, man. it sucks." they hear chattering on the other side of the door, a few guitar riffs and then laughter.

"of course it sucks, mate," ashton tells his friend. "she doesn't want to be in your shadow. it really fucking sucks and you better not fuck this up for her. you know how hard she's been working." he had grown fond of lucy. she was as much of a fan of drums as he was. he taught her a few fills and she invited him to do yoga and get high, ending up talking about how the unconscious force of creativity is beyond any of us. ashton doesn't want to see her heartbroken because of her boyfriend's, his best friend's inability to trust someone who really loves him.

-

luke's insecure, there's no question about that. after his marriage fell apart, he fell into a depression. and when he got better, he found this woman in the venue of the iheartradio festival, she was wearing cool sunglasses and stevie nicks-looking clothes. hippie goth he would've dared to say. they were watching the soundcheck of another band and started talking after she took out a cigarette from her backpack and asked him for a lighter.

"sorry, no. i don't smoke."

"that's okay," she smiled. 

that was all she said before looking for -and eventually finding- a lighter in the outside pocket of her small backpack.

the man looked up at the sky, the sun shining bright and the warm air of the field. he squinted one eye and turned to her. "they sound pretty good," he said of the band that was talking onstage, between songs. she nodded her head. "do you know them?"

"not personally, no," she replied and blew smoke out in a thin line. "but i've been a fan of them for a while now. they're one of my favorite indie bands."

that got them talking, eventually introducing themselves and catching up later after each other’s set. there was chemistry and flirting. luke's band immediately caught up to what was happening, when he said he was gonna congratulate lucy and be right back. but he didn't and it took them a full while to find him, thirty minutes before they went up and played.

-

"you got a lighter?"

calum nods and lights the cigarette for her. the smoking area of the building being a small parking lot.

"thanks," she breathes out. "you out here on your own?"

the bassist nods. "it's a good place to think."

lucy smiles and rolls her eyes. “cheesy,” she says with a grin.

"where's loverboy?" he asks, a cheeky smile on his face. calum was the first one to see them kissing. it was an afterparty at his band photographer's place. he'd gone to the kitchen when everyone started leaving, eight in the morning. when he went back to the living room with a cup of coffee, he saw lucy snuggled up to luke, smiling at him. luke smiled back and leaned in to kiss her. "aren't you guys glued to the hip anymore?"

lucy chuckles, "i don't know. there's... a lot happening."

"i'm listening."

"uh... okay. so... we decided to not tell everyone yet that we're dating. Not even with the tour. and i think he's mad at me."

"why do you say that?"

"he's been more... distant. and i don't know if that's what i wanted but it feels like... payback. like, you banned us and now i'm gonna make sure you feel it type of thing."

"i'm sure it's not that."

a bitter chuckle leaves her lips. "helpful as usual, cal."

-

cincinatti, first stop of the you don't go to parties tour. lucy had laughed when they first told her the name of the tour, but she eventually grew to like it and even embrace it. it's 6 pm and her soundcheck just ended. security lets fans in for a q&a with 5sos. she walks over to her boyfriend and smiles at him, wanting to kiss him good luck, or maybe just because she loves him. but luke stops her before she can even tilt her head up to reach his lips.

"we can't now. remember?"

it leaves her heart sore. she stands still as luke enters the stage and is greeted with the cheering of the fans. the rest of the guys are already seated on the small stairs of the set. she watches him ignore her and the questions about her. michael replies to one of them by saying she's our friend and we care for her and we're pretty inspired by her work as well, so it seemed like a good idea to, like, join forces and do this tour together.

lucy hopes luke will acknowledge her at some point, but he doesn't. when they start playing talk fast for the few lucky seventy fans in the audience, she twists her lips and leaves, heading backstage.

-

he doesn't see her until she's onstage again, playing her set of amazing songs for the 16,000 people attending the show. they dance and scream the lyrics back to her. she plays her guitar and sings with her raspy grunge-style voice over the indie-pop-rock arrangements her backing band provides. his heart beats faster as she approaches the microphone and starts talking.

"and thank you to my friends in 5sos who have been kind enough to invite me to co-headline this tour. the you don't go to parties tour seemed a little odd to me at first because this is definitely a party, isn't it?" she smiles as the crowd cheers. "so thank you guys," lucy turns to the left of the stage and sees luke standing next to her guitar tech. "i really fucking love you."

-

because of technical issues, the band can't perform the whole setlist. sometimes it happens. ashton is always pissed. "they're missing the whole experience!"

"yeah, well. nothing we can do. venue told us we could do the whole hour and a half but because of the issue with the speakers, they can't last that long. you have to cut two songs."

the tour manager tries to hold this thing together as ashton and michael complain. calum offers suggestions.

"i guess we could lose um... we could lose babylon, right? just this once and... flatline maybe?" the bassist looks over at luke.

flatline is the one song they had never played live before and it’d be a surprise for the audience. especially because lucy would come onstage to sing it with them. play the rhythmic guitar while luke walks around, hyping up the crowd. they'd rehearsed it several times and she was excited about it. they both were. allegedly.

"sure," luke replies as he drinks a glass of tequila, setting it down on a table and making sure his guitar is properly tuned. "let's cut them."

michael and ashton look at each other and then at luke. the frontman shrugs and his friends tell the tour manager that they will cut babylon and flatline.

-

all of the musicians have separate rooms in the hotels. even luke and lucy. she'd insisted it'd be easier. luke hated it. and he didn't expect her to show up at his room, unannounced, with a frown on her forehead and breathing hard.

"you cut our song," she steps inside the white room with the white walls, white bed and white comforter. looking at luke, the woman crosses her arms.

"we had to," he simply states. as if he wasn't the one greenlighting the whole thing.

"you could've told me, though. i was looking stupid next to the stage, waiting for you to introduce me. and it never happened."

"is that all that matters to you? how you look in front of other people? we had to cut two songs, lucy. the surprise's gonna be even bigger in the next show. fans will appreciate that."

lucy twists her lips and walks straight past him towards the door. "you're an asshole," she says before closing it behind her.

-

the beginning of the flight to boston is awkward. the whole twelve -the bands and the crew- can sense the tension inside the plane. it stems from luke and lucy, obviously. when did everything get so uneasy?

twenty minutes into the duration of the flight, though, luke slides into the seat next to his girlfriend. she doesn't look at him.

"i should've told you."

"yeah, you should've."

her heart beats faster as he places a hand on her cheek, guiding her eyes towards his own. he looks inside the brown hues and decides he can't keep hurting her. but she hurt him first. he wants to grow up and let it go. it's proving to be harder than he thought. maturity hasn't caught up to him easily yet. "i'm sorry." she closes her eyes and luke leans in to kiss her. "i'm sorry," he repeats.

a hand on his wrist, lucy is sad. looking into his eyes makes her sad. "it's okay," she finally says.

-

"and now we've got a pretty special surprise for you," michael grins into the microphone as the whole venue screams. "it's time to invite lucy huerta back on stage!" he shouts with a smile.

luke thinks lucy looks so fucking edible in those tight pants and that see-through top. her smile is big as she waves to the audience and settles on the center of the stage, where luke usually is. he gets another microphone from one of the roadies before ashton counts to four with his hi-hat.

should've seen me like a year ago, year ago/i was someone you don't even know, even know/dark times kept me all alone, all alone/you were shining like a heart of gold, heart of gold

he steals glances at her as she smiles into the crowd that’s going wild, her acoustic guitar hanging from her shoulders. 

luke was depressed after the divorce, staying home and drinking himself to sleep. then he got his shit together (half of it at least), went to the studio and worked through his issues by writing songs. when he met lucy, luke thought she was the most wonderful person on the planet. she had the kindest heart and was an overall joy to have around. he sings the pre-chorus and is taken aback by her strong voice as she takes over the song with her playing and her singing.

ooh, i'm falling for the first time/heart is gonna flatline/now i can't even look at you/you're like staring at the sunshine, burning into my mind/now i can't even look at you

and she doesn't. she doesn't look at him as she sings, unlike rehearsals when they couldn't stop singing to each other. it breaks his heart, considering it's their song. he wrote this for her.

"thank you!" lucy shouts and then leaves the stage waving everybody goodbye.

-

after the show, luke showed up to her hotel room. the bands were out clubbing and when he heard lucy wasn’t gonna join them, he immediately took an uber back to where they were staying. 

“let me in, please,” he says after knocking on her door three times. when she finally appears, she’s wearing a towel around her body and another one around her hair. she looks tired. “can i come in?”

without saying a word, lucy steps aside and luke walks into her room. she closes the door behind her and approaches him. 

“talk to me,” he basically begs. reading her mind is like an unsolvable sudoku, the man can’t get his head around it. “I love you.”

“i love you, too,” she whispers, looking down at his messy converse sneakers. 

luke quickly grabs her face and kisses her. it’s passionate and arousing and she can feel herself melting under his touch. she knows they should actually talk about it, instead of making out and falling on the bed, her towels discarded somewhere on the floor. she can’t help it. they’re both sex addicts. lucy rips his thin black shirt open and kisses down his chest, leaving his skin wet with the droplets that run down her hair. his breathing grows heavier and his pants grow tighter in the crotch area. he closes his eyes as she trails the kisses back up to his face. “take it off,” she pleads and sits next to him. luke quickly reincorporates himself to toss his shirt, his slacks and his underwear out of the way. he’s big and pulsating and lucy swallows hard, he turns her on so much. 

when the last item of clothing hits the floor, one of his shoes, the man licks his upper lip and straddles her body, hovering over her. “you really want me, huh?” his smirk is cocky, as if he’s forgotten everything about these past few days. it’s like nothing ever happened and they’re still in their love bubble. she so desperately wants to go back to it, so she nods and wraps her arms around his neck, bringing him to her lips as she parts her legs. luke hooks an elbow on her knee and spreads her wider, watching her folds throb for him. so slick and ready. he kisses her once more before carefully dropping her leg onto the bed. “condom,” he says. “i need to fuck you now.”

lucy reaches out to the bag she keeps on the nightstand. eyeliner, pills and condoms. she hands him one and it doesn’t take long before his cock is ready. luke smirks and kisses her, lining himself against her entrance with one hand, he takes a deep breath and penetrates her.

her gasp shouldn’t come as a surprise, given that it’s the same sound every time, not at all used to having him being so big and thick yet, even after all these months. she closes her eyes and bites her lower lip as luke runs a hand through his damp curls, letting her adjust to his size. he groans as he feels her walls engulfing him. “i want you so much,” he offers a low moan and starts picking up the pace of his thrusts. bringing one of her legs over his shoulder, the man reaches a deeper spot that makes her moan out. 

“fuck,” she pants as the bed bounces underneath their bodies. luke’s strength and determination to fuck her stupid works. her eyes roll to the back and she digs her short nails into his naked back. “more,” she begs and is immediately met with a hand around her throat. “more,” her plead is inaudible as she feels like she can’t breathe from the pleasure.

luke’s pupils are dilated in a way she’s never seen before. he tightens her grip around her throat and around her leg. gulping down at the sight of his girl falling apart under him, he tries to restrain louder moans but how can he? how can he fuck her quietly when she looks and feels so fucking good? “say you’re mine,” he orders. “say you’re mine.”

-

the morning sun shines through the window and rests its light on lucy’s face. She scrunches her nose and opens her eyes. she’s lying on luke’s chest, they’re both naked. he doesn’t seem to notice her shifting. the woman looks up at him, wondering when things got so complicated. she loves him. she truly loves him. he’s the first man she’s ever loved, in a real way, not a platonic crush way. the fact that he makes her laugh and his skills when making music and also in bed are extraordinary. he’s a sensitive soul and it’s such a wonder when he lowers down the walls he builds up around people. letting them in but not all the way. not in the way he does with her. or did. “why can’t you trust me with your thoughts anymore?” lucy wonders in a soft whisper before pressing a kiss to his sternum and getting up. she goes to the bathroom and takes a shower. when she opens the door that leads to the bedroom, luke is up and scrolling through his phone. “hi,” she smiles softly. her boyfriend’s hair is a mess and there’s still sleep inside his eyes. 

“hey,” the man smiles back, putting his phone away. “flight’s at 6. you wanna do something today?”

lucy leans against the frame of the bathroom door. she crosses her arms in front of her chest and thinks for a moment while twisting her lips. “what do you have in mind?”

-

they both go down in the elevator, not touching, and it’s killing them. when they reach the hotel’s diner, they find calum and ashton sitting at one of the tables, drinking orange juice and eating bagels.

“you guys had fun last night,” calum smirks as the couple sits down with a plate of waffles and two cups of coffee.

lucy blushes and luke has to stop every inch of his urgent body to wrap an arm around her shoulders. “shut up,” they both say in unison. there’s a soft smile on their faces.

after michael drops by to have a quick breakfast and then leaves to facetime his wife and his baby daughter, the rest of them decide that it would be cool to go out and explore the city. so they do that. they go to a park and sit around, smoking and drinking warm water because of the summer heat upon them. a couple of fans stumble across them and ask for pictures. they stay for around ten minutes before leaving off to continue their day, the musicians keep on enjoying the sun and the fresh air. if you ignore calum and lucy’s cigarettes, that is.

they go to lunch at a nearby restaurant and order pasta salads. lucy looks over at luke across the table, he’s laughing at one of ashton’s jokes and she sighs almost imperceptibly, looking down at her empty plate. there’s a single ravioli and two tomato slices on it. she looks up when she feels a foot against her ankle and sees luke smiling softly at her.

they can’t help but fuck in the restaurant’s bathroom. locked into a single stall, she drops to her knees and sucks him off. luke pins her against the door and buries his head on her neck to muffle the sounds when he slides into her. she’s got a leg wrapped around his waist and she swallows hard to hush the sounds she wants to make.

when they reach back the table, they find that ashton and calum have deserted them, leaving them with the bill. “assholes,” she says and luke laughs.

-

Seen out: Luke Hemmings and Lucía Huerta have an off day in Boston

The pair walked out of the Intercontinental Hotel with Ashton Irwin (5SOS’ drummer) and Calum Hood (5SOS’ bassist). They were seen by fans at Fenway Park and they took pictures with them. Luke looks tired in the photos, but he seems happy. He wears roughed-up sneakers and a white tank top. Lucy wears short denim shorts and a black top with flowy sleeves. The fans that tagged them in the Instagram posts spoke about how nice they were and how exciting it was to meet them. Hemmings and Huerta were both seen leaving Tenderoni’s Fenway restaurant and getting into an Uber. According to inside sources, the pair haven’t been able to keep their hands off each other during this tour so far. We hope it stays that way.

-

“fuck,” lucy’s frustration about the latest hollywood gossip blog post seems to go unnoticed on the plane. but luke can tell, and he wraps an arm around her the minute they both sit down. “they know. they seem to know,” she hands him her phone so he can read the writing piece. she hates it. she hates it so much. “inside sources can suck my dick.” this statement makes luke giggle. “what’s so funny?” she asks, annoyed.

“nothing.”

-

the next cities go by in a time whirlwind. lucy’s been distant since the article and it breaks luke’s heart. she refused to hold his hand and kiss him outside hotel rooms. even concerts’ backstages.

a few months after they met, they attended a house party in santa monica. the sparks between them were something everybody noticed, but they didn’t seem to think much of it. they’re rockstars, they’re the same age, of course they’re gonna flirt. luke fucked her in the spare bedroom, door locked. she gasped when she felt his cock for the first time, knowing he’d just made her addicted to it. he’d ruined every other man for her.

“we should head back downstairs.”

“i wanna stay here with you.”

“luke.” his name was rough against her lips as she hooked her bra back on.

“alright, i’m up.”

looking back, that should’ve been a red flag for him, but he chose to ignore it. because she made him feel good and he didn’t want her to leave him for somebody else. he didn’t want to be left again. he’d loved his ex-wife, and it was hard to get over her after she cheated on him. lucy had never been in a relationship, just random hookups, a friend with benefits and two weeks of winter love. she feared intimacy and luke could tell after the second time they had sex. spend the night, he’d said. lucy shook her head and told him she needed to get up early in the morning for an interview, which was a lie.

-

by the time the first month rolls around, they’re barely talking. It’s all sex and pretending onstage. pretending to have fun, pretending that they’re not hurt. their hearts break in silence. well, sort of.

“i told you not to fuck it up.”

“she won’t let me in. she won’t talk to me about it.”

“fix it.”

-

someone just like you, no one else/lights will guide you so, run like hell

the screaming fans can’t get enough of the energy onstage. michael jumping around, calum throwing his head back to expose his neck to the crowd, ashton beasting out on the drums. luke crouches in front of the crowd with a wide smile and lucy plays guitar while she sings her heart out. the lights radiate orange and red colors on the stage, the bass resonates in their bodies and there’s so much adrenaline going on that she has a moment of weakness. she looks over at luke, who has walked over to michael’s side of the stage as he sings the second verse. he wears a silver shirt that makes his shoulders look so spectacularly broad. she looks at him a little too long and when the camera pans over to her, showing her true feelings on the giant screen, fans seem to lose it even more. luke walks back to her and sings directly into her eyes, as if he can feel his way back to his girl. finally. a sad smile appears on her face for a split second before she starts dancing while playing the post-chorus instrumental outro. her long wavy hair hides her face and no one notices a single tear rolling down her cheek. when the song ends, she pretends to be emotional about the crowd, about how much they seem to love the show. which she is very grateful for. but on the other side of the coin, she just fucked up everything for herself. her career. and it’s clear when luke approaches her with a reassuring smile and one fan screams KISS! KISS! and then the whole venue is yelling the same word over and over again. michael and calum look at each other, ashton wipes off the sweat from his forehead and when the chanting doesn’t seem to stop, he grabs his mic. 

“alright, alright. calm your asses down,” the drummer laughs and the crowd follows suit. a distraction. he starts talking about how they recorded the song and thanking lucy for putting on a fantastic show with them for the beautiful souls in the audience.

lucy twists her lips, trying not to break down in front of thousands of people. so, she just waves and quickly exits the stage. luke takes a deep breath. he wants to run after her, make sure she’s okay. but she would never forgive him for giving the fans more reasons to speculate about their relationship. 

-

lucy cries backstage, alone. she takes off her makeup and sees dark circles underneath her eyes. why the fuck is she such a mess? why can’t she be in love like a normal person?

-

the show ends and the first person to knock on her dressing room is, obviously, luke. “are you okay?” he opens the door and sees his girlfriend lying on the sofa, sleeping. her makeup’s off and he can better appreciate the freckles on her nose that she gets in the summer. he stays with her, sitting on the chair in front of the mirror. the man looks at her as she wrinkles her nose in her sleep. he loves her so much. but what if this it? what if this is the end for them? 

michael opens the door, “what’s going on? is she okay?”

“she’s okay,” luke smiles weakly. “she’s sleeping.” 

lucy holds a pillow to her chest. she’s covered by luke’s jacket. michael decides he should probably leave them alone. “good luck, man,” he says as he pats luke’s shoulder, then he leaves the door closed after stepping back out.

luke could really use a joint right now. all these thoughts and feelings. wondering what she may be dreaming. or what she does with her days when they’re not together. he hates being so possessive, it makes him feel like a child. but how can you blame him?

“good luck with what?” lucy’s yawn startles him. she rubs one eye open.

michael meant well, but he also wanted to protect luke from heartbreak. lucy’s given him that for months now. all the guys -at least in the bands- knew lucy has a bit of… issues. she believes in things to be too black or white, good or bad, yes or no. no space for grey areas in her life. and that’s frustrating to deal with, but luke had fallen in love because she was so intense and so hardheaded when it came to defending her values. He admired that about her. “I honestly have no idea,” he lies behind a chuckle, playing it off as usual band nonsense. “do you wanna go back to the hotel and sleep?”

she’s too tired to get into an argument about taking separate cars, so she just nods. “Yeah.”

-

when they get to the hotel room, luke tucks her in and pours her a glass of water that he leaves on her nightstand. he looks for ibuprofen in her small bag with pills and condoms and sets two next to the water. 

“i’m sorry for being such a bitch to you,” lucy says with her eyes closed, lying on her side. 

she looks so out of it. as if she’d just drank an entire bottle of vodka and then smoked weed. he feels bad. he never meant for her to feel like this when they got into a relationship. but touring always makes things hard. especially if you’re playing shows every night with the person you love. the man sighs and sits next to her. “don’t worry about me. get some sleep,” he whispers and kisses her temple.

before he can stand up, lucy grabs his arm. “can you stay with me? please.”

a soft smile sets on his lips. “of course.”

-

after landing in the next city, lucy calls her mom.

-

there are three knocks on his hotel room door. “luke?” her voice is soft. as if she’s embarrassed. she doesn’t want her mother’s words to haunt her. the man opens the door without his shirt. just sweatpants. he was probably gonna go to bed. she might as well ruin his night too. 

“hey.” there’s a small pause. “what’s up?” he steps aside so she can come in. the tv’s on in the background and there’s a tray with an empty plate and a glass of tequila, just resting on his nightstand. 

lucy nods her head and walks inside. “i wanna talk.”

“okay…”

“about us.”

-

Love Is All Around: It’s Insta-Official

Two months ago, the You Don’t Go To Parties Tour hit the stage. And last night, Lucía Huerta and Luke Hemmings provided some much-needed proof of their romance. “Ten months with you feel like a second. Magic. I love you.”

-

lucy sighs as she reads the article.

“are you okay?” luke asks her.

“yeah,” she replies. “just… scared, i guess.”

“it’s gonna be okay, love,” he kisses the top of her head and sits next to her on the sofa. “everything’s gonna be alright.” the dressing room is big and no one else is around. it’s noon.

tons of notifications have been hitting their phones for the past fourteen hours. some are mean comments, others are encouraging words from fans. either way, it makes lucy anxious. “do you wanna get high?” she asks her boyfriend. maybe weed isn’t the solution to every problem ever, but it helps. 

the man smiles. “sure,” he says.

they go to the private parking lot of the venue. luke rolls a joint while lucy smokes a cigarette. she flicks the ashes onto the concrete, fidgeting her fingers around the cancer stick. luke isn’t the biggest fan of her smoking. and she's been smoking more as the days go by. but he understands she’s going through a lot, so he says nothing. he gets a text from calum, wondering where he and his girlfriend are. we’re gonna have lunch, join us? but the blond dismisses the message and lights the joint. he takes two hits before handing it to lucy. she brings it immediately to her lips, the slightly spicy smoke going down her throat smoothly. 

it’s so easy to talk to each other. sometimes. but their words have been stunted lately. they don’t know what the other’s thinking. and yes, last night they had a good conversation. but now what? does everything go back to normal now? how? they both feel anxious around each other, and that’s never ever happened before. they both hate it.

“what do you…”

“do you ever…”

they open their mouths simultaneously, quickly chuckling at the awkwardness of their interaction. lucy nods her head, letting him know that he can finish his thought.

luke smiles. “i was gonna ask you if you ever feel like… like things are going so good between us and suddenly we get so quiet and you worry? is that… is that something you feel?”

lucy smiles back. “yeah,” she says. “i don’t really know how to explain it. i mean, i love you. you know i really fucking love you, luke. but sometimes i worry we get too inside our heads. because i think we’re really similar like that. and i… i wanna be someone you can count on…”

“i want that too,” he replies. she hands him back the joint and he smokes some more.

“and sometimes i worry i’m not that someone you deserve,” she finally confesses.

it makes him sad to hear her say that, because there’s no better person for him than her. no one has made him feel this way before. the ups and downs seem to be heightened and it’s a beautiful way to live, he doesn’t want anyone else. there’s only room in his heart for this woman. this is the hardest he’s ever fallen in love, and he can’t imagine his life without her. a bit dramatic, but hey, that’s just who he is. “i don’t deserve anyone, lucy. i just want to be with you,” he says and takes her hand, intertwining his fingers with hers. “all the time. every single fucking day.”

the woman looks down at their hands. matching red nail polish and silver-colored rings. this is scary. it’s scary to love and need someone so much that you feel like you’d die if they ever left you. please, don’t leave me. ever. lucy sighs and squeezes his hand in hers. “right back at ya,” she smiles softly and looks up to find his baby blues staring at her with so much love in them that she can’t help the weakness she feels in her knees.

the silence is barely uncomfortable anymore. unlike the ones they’ve been experiencing for countless weeks now. it’s all out in the open. their love for each other burning brighter than ever. neither want this moment to end. and since there’s only one way to stop time, they lean into each other and kiss. it’s soft at first, like a goodnight kiss. and it escalates quickly to an i-never-wanna-be-without-you one. she grabs fistfuls of his shirt, bringing him closer to her body. luke places both hands on her face as his tongue traces her bottom lip. their eyes are red and their hunger is raw.

-

they can’t get to his hotel room fast enough. fuck having lunch with friends, they need to satiate this urge so they can go on for the rest of the day. “i want you so bad,” she whines against his throat, leaving wet and sloppy kisses along his jawline. he’s already big and leaking with precum, grinding his hips against hers. unhooking her bra, luke immediately buries his head between her breasts and she whines again. those beautiful sounds he can’t get enough of.

“ride me, babe. i wanna see these titties bounce,” he whispers against her skin. hands gripping her hips. bulge so hard he feels like he’s gonna explode. they’re naked and he already has a condom wrapping his shaft. lucy bites her lower lip and lines him against her slit. he’s throbbing in her hand and that drives her insane. the moan he drags out as she strokes him is paradise. The filthiest love they’ve ever experienced. Both always wanting to fuck each other. It’s her waist, it’s his broad shoulders. The way they move on stage, wanting to look sexy for the other. 

lucy sinks into his cock and lets out a whine, “fuuck.” his thick size feels so good. luke grabs her ass and spreads her cheeks open so he can penetrate her better. 

“you like that?”

“yes.” her mouth hangs open and her eyes roll to the back of her head. luke has always thought of her as his pretty little pornstar. even before they started dating, the way she danced with him at the club. her back pressed to his body as his hands rested on her hips and stomach. both sweaty and a bit embarrassed when they went back to the booth with their friends. 

the woman, as per requested, starts bouncing on his cock. titties moving up and down. “fuck, girl.”

-

“is it better to feel this or feel nothing at all?”

ever since the news got out about their relationship, lucy’s been a mess. interviewers can be assholes. they suddenly stopped asking about her music, her achievements. all they wanted to know about was her clothes and her boyfriend. like everything she worked for just disappeared in the blink of an eye.

she lays on her side on the hotel bed after playing a festival in latin america. luke spoons her, holding her close to his body. he doesn’t know what to say. he’s surprised by the outcome. hadn’t expected people to diminish her work, to ignore she just played the 6 pm slot, which is a hard spot to get. you need a lot of people to stay for the whole set. and she’d killed it. 

“i don’t understand what happened,” luke sighs against her neck and squeezes her tighter. “i’m really sorry.”

lucy closes her eyes, feeling a bit less anxious with him. “it’s okay. the industry’s fucked up.”

“yeah,” he chuckles weakly. “it is.”

-

“so it’s true? you and luke are engaged?”

the questions about her relationship don’t seem to cease. even a year later. they go together to events and people seem to be more excited about them together than their work. it’s annoying, but what are you gonna do? “yeah, we are,” lucy smiles. “we’re also dropping a new song together next month.”

“ooh, tell us about it.”

lucy has become good at deflecting. luke taught her that. 

-

“how was the interview?” luke asks after he greets his fianceé with a kiss and hands her a cup of coffee from her favorite shop.

“it was alright,” lucy shrugs. it’s definitely been a learning experience, dodging questions about her personal life. but luke has been so supportive and sweet throughout the whole thing. she’s grateful to marry her man in six months. “how was the recording session?” she asks as she sips the hot beverage.

the blond had written things throughout the tour. enough things to make an ep. “it was good,” he smiles softly.

-

the song luke and lucy release is a hit. a 90s-inspired track with her raspy vocals and his whiny ones make for an interesting texture that captures hearts everywhere. they play it on several shows, the crowds go insane every time.

a month later, lucy releases her second album. it's a hit. she's invited to play festivals and there are rumors of a grammy nomination.

"here's to my girl," luke smiles as he raises a glass of wine in front of her and their friends. "she showed the world she's a powerhouse, an amazing songwriter and performer. she's the best thing that's ever happened to me and i'm so proud of you." his gaze sets on lucy, who's blushing like crazy and smiling like an idiot. "i really fucking love you."

"right back at ya," the woman grins and stands up from the table to kiss her man. everyone cheers.

the night goes by fast. the celebration turns into a party in luke and lucy's new place in west hollywood. but the couple soon disappears into their shared bedroom. fucking until the sun comes up and their friends leave.

luke pants as his orgasm washes over him. "fuck," he breathes out, collapsing next to her on their bed.

"yeah," lucy chuckles. her body is sweaty and she wraps an arm around his torso as she snuggles up to him. looking up at his face, the man's glistening. he's the most beautiful man. he's got the biggest heart and he's never been jealous or threatened by her successes. she appreciates that. "wanna eat me out?" lucy smirks, her leg now over his, her wet pussy making contact with his thigh and she grinds into him.

"give me a second," luke lets out a soft laugh. "you really wore me out. my pretty slutty angel." he strokes her hair, hand soon trailing down to her ass. a small slap to it that makes her bite down on her lip. "okay, come on. legs spread, i'm diving in," he grins.

she does what she's told. opening her legs so luke can attach his lips to her swollen clit and start licking her folds. so sloppy. so fucking nasty. lucy groans as her breath hitches. "you're so good."

he smirks against her entrance before exploring her walls with his tongue. so fucking skilled.

-

grammy nominations announcement. luke and lucy's song gets one for song of the year. her album gets one for album of the year. they're ecstatic. it's all happening.

[dreamwatch]

Let The Bodies Hit The Floor

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest

Day #26 - Prompt: Tour Date | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: M | CW: racism, violence, use of the C word| POV: Gareth | Pairing: None | Tags: mosh pits, rough gigs, fighting, band vs the world, run on sentences

These shitty little bar gigs are a curse and a blessing, honestly; like some set up for a shitty joke - what happens when you throw four hundred people into an underground bunker with no air conditioning? They take their clothes off and drink too much. Badoomtish!

It’s hot as satan’s balls backstage, and his shirt didn’t even make it to the stage with him. The thing about gigs in small venues that you don’t get in big venues (he imagines, he’s never played anything with more than six hundred people and they were the openers, it wasn’t even full), is that you can see them. Like, they’re practically on stage with you, you can see their eyes, see them moshing, watch how they get progressively sweatier, their hair plastered to their heads and faces. It’s visceral. It’s what The Hideout could never give them. Gareth has never felt more alive.

They’re the last on tonight which is just fucking, like what? How is this happening? How are they getting anywhere? It’s insane and he loves it, and fuck you Taco Bell, he’s never going back. But that means with no air conditioning these lunatics have all been drinking for hours, and you can see it. They’re getting rougher, people aren’t just pushing and shoving because it’s fun now, they’re doing it because some of them are drunk and angry.

It shouldn’t be exciting. It feels wrong, like he’s watching an arsonist flicking the spark wheel too close to a gas pump, over and over, and it’s probably okay, maybe, but one spark. It just needs one spark.

Jeff ends up throwing his shirt into the crowd within five minutes, he knows Matty and Eddie will just tough it out; they’ve both got their reasons not to but it boils down to the same thing. And Eddie suffers more than most; his temperature regulation is fucked since all that shit happened a few years back, he’s brittle and pained in the cold, boils if the thermometer rises above seventy. He’s got his hair tied back, same as Gareth, and they keep more water coming for him. It’s not much, but it helps.

The gig is good, Gareth can feel the rivulets of sweat running down his back, his face, the crack of his ass when he stands up. And he can see Jeff’s back right in front of him, glistening under the lights, defined muscles that weren’t there back in high school when he was carrying a few extra pounds. Touring and living cheap has made him lean, loading and unloading amps has built strength. He’s growing his hair out, sides shaved, locs a work in progress on top. He looks fucking awesome. 

The problem with some of these little bum fuck towns is that they like metal just fine, satanism who now? Fuck it, thrash the fuck out of us. But black people? Not so much. Mostly it’s not overt, it’s the vibe, the looks, a thing they have to be careful of, and, bar some nasty words being spat at them, so far they’ve walked away. Angry, disgusted, but with all their own teeth.

It’s how it affects Jeff, though, that’s what’s upsetting. He gets introverted, ruminates on it, which like, he gets (but he doesn’t, he knows they’ll never really understand). Where Eddie would usually have to tell you everything about everything, taking you on the journey of where his brain started to where it ends up, Jeff sits on things, he’ll come up for air when he’s good and ready. And even when he does come up for air he’s not sharing with the class, not all in one go. It’s Matty that’s there first doing the unpicking, soothing the verbal cuts and bruises. Gareth’s never been able to figure that one out, Matty being kind of cold sometimes, but he caught a snippet of conversation one day — 

“— cunts, every last one of them. One day you’ll be breezing through here in our tour bus, we’re not even gonna stop for a piss in this sewer, and you’re going see that racist cock sucker at the side of the road with one tooth in his head and his dog. And then you’re gonna notice he’s married to the dog—“

— and Jeff had laughed, like belly laughed at that, and Matty strikes again.

So this show is fucking something else, and that spark is getting closer and closer to the gas and then whoosh, up it goes, there’s an actual fight in the crowd. They keep playing, there’s blood in peoples teeth, he’s that close, but fuck it and then he notices it really kick off and then he can’t hear Jeff anymore and when he looks up he’s gone, what the fuck, locs flying into the audience. Gareth’s gone, over the fucking kit, can hear the cymbal stands clatter to the ground, but now he’s in the crowd and like, what the fuck is he actually doing here? And he gets a punch to the head and he punches back and then he’s being yanked back on the stage by Eddie and a security guy, and Matt has Jeff, but then a guy from security punches Jeff, like he dragged himself into the crowd, and Matt is like in this fucking dudes face, and Gareth watched Matty break someone’s nose a couple of years ago, he’s got it in him, but Matty shoves the guy away. And like… what do you do now?

There’s this vicious sound, a scream of anger from the amps and it’s Jeff. They all get the memo, Gareth picking up his cymbals before climbing back behind the kit and he doesn’t even count them in, they’re already in, already off. And like fuck the crowd at this point, they’re playing with fury and everyone’s going to listen. And maybe it was excitement, maybe it was some racist fuck, but whatever, their ears are going to bleed for it.

Okay so... A/N if you're interested.

Title from Bodies by Drowning Pool (a song all about mosh pits!)

Inspiration for this came from two places.

1. There was a game going round yesterday - your first gig / last gig. My first was Anthrax at the Camden Underworld in 1993. Small basement gig, getting kicked in the head by stage divers, all that good stuff. It just reminded me there was a time I went to places like that to see metal gigs and it just sent me down a 'oh fuck I am so old and i used to be so cool' spiral.

2. Related, my husband showed me a video of a Nirvana gig where Kurt threw himself into the crowd, and once he got back out he was punched in the face by a security guard, and oh boy, how fast Dave got over those drums. And Matty getting into it with the security guard is a straight rip of Krist doing the same in the video.

Also - Gareth POV and mostly about Jeff because I didn't write for their prompt days and I felt bad. :(

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

Shut Up and Drive (Chapter 8)

Roy Kent x F1 Driver!Reader

3.5k words

Warnings: Language, unprotected sex, face sitting, fluff & feelings, Roy being a simp for his F1 Girlie ❤️

@agentstarkid ilysm, thanks for always reading my smut and telling me it's good 😝

Series Masterlist

From the moment he got back from Belgium, Roy had set to work getting his house ready. He’d painstakingly washed and cleaned everything, made sure he was stocked up on food and drinks, picked up some of the pretty-smelling shower stuff he remembered Keeley liking, even went and bought flowers for his dining room table. By the time he got your text letting him know your plane had landed, he felt that his home was ready to welcome you for the next few weeks.

He sat on his couch, staring at the turned off television, shitty knee bouncing anxiously. This was going to be great- right?

The two of you always had a good time when you were together. Lots of laughter and joking and flirting, not to mention sex. Even on the phone, Roy couldn’t help but smile at the sound of your voice. So spending all this time together was going to be great.

Unless you got bored of him. Or decided you didn’t like him as much as he liked you. Or you realized how much more appropriate it would be for you to date one of the young, handsome Greyhounds, rather than their grumpy old manager. Or-

I’m here!

The moment he saw your text, Roy was on his feet, practically running to the front door and throwing it open.

A perfect smile graced your face as you stepped out of your cab, offering Roy a little wave. “Hey there, Greyhound!”

Roy’s steps were quick as he walked down his sidewalk; you, on the other hand, broke into a sprint and launched yourself into his arms. He laughed into your hair and spun you around with ease, squeezing you tight. His heart felt light as he hugged you, breathing in your familiar smell and feeling your smile against his neck.

You gazed up at him with bright eyes once he set you down. “You gonna help me with my bags or what?”

With a chuckle, Roy walked with you to the cab, quickly grabbing your things and paying the driver, despite your insistence that you could pay for it yourself. With your suitcase in one hand and your duffel bag thrown over his shoulder, Roy took your hand and led you inside, wondering if you could hear the joyful hammering of his heart.

Fuck, you looked perfect inside his house, like you belonged there. He watched you look around curiously, taking in the photos and books and all the little things that made this house undeniably Roy’s. With a grin, you pointed at a framed drawing of two people on a football pitch, a dark-haired man and a blonde girl.

“Who’s the artist?” you asked in a light voice.

Roy wrapped his free arm around your waist. “My niece. Phoebe.”

“Cute,” you hummed, turning your gaze back to Roy. Your smile immediately softened. “So, this is Roy Kent’s house.”

“Yeah,” he breathed, smiling back at you. “And I’m really fucking glad you’re here.” He leaned down and kissed you deeply, his fingers digging into your waist. He pulled back with a content sigh. “Why don’t you go shower, and I’ll have dinner ready when you get out?”

You raised your eyebrows at him. “Roy Kent’s going to cook for me?” you teased.

“Only the best for the Empress.”

Keeping his hand on your waist, Roy steered you to his bedroom, where he set down your things on top of his perfectly made bed- the bed you knew you’d be spending a lot of time in. He pointed you towards the bathroom, suddenly edgy.

“There’s, er, towels and shit. Whatever you need.” Roy cleared his throat, gazing down at you with that familiar mix of affection and nerves. He brought his hand to your chin. “I’m really fucking glad you’re here,” he whispered.

“Me too,” you assured him, leaning forward to kiss his lips, lips you’d missed more than you’d realized. Instinctively, you gripped his waist, tugging him close so you could feel his warm chest against yours. Maybe you were tired from the flight, but you swore your knees went weak when you felt his tongue flick against your lips.

Before you could react, he pulled back, grinning goofily. “Better let you shower,” he murmured as his hand stroked your hair. “I’ll go get dinner going.” With one more quick peck to your lips, he was gone.

Humming giddily to yourself, you grabbed your things and headed into Roy’s bathroom. In the shower, you noted the surprising amount of fruity products; huh. You knew some guys kept those kinds of products for female guests. Some little part of you wondered when these bottles were last used, and by whom.

Stop it, you scolded yourself as the hot water dripped down your skin. No, you and Roy weren’t exclusive, but… you knew how he felt about you. He knew how you felt about him. He’d invited you to spend your break with him, for fuck’s sake. Surely things were heading in the exclusive direction… right?

Willing yourself to ignore that gnawing feeling in your gut, you finished your shower, scrubbing away your jealous pondering and the grime of travel. Refreshed, you threw on a comfy t-shirt and some sleep shorts, not caring how your still-wet hair dampened your shoulders. A delicious smell, a familiar one, led you to the kitchen, where Roy was standing over the stove, tea towel thrown over his shoudler.

His heart skipped a beat when he looked over at you. You looked so at home in his house already, smiling softly at him as you padded into his kitchen. He leaned down and pecked your lips, marveling at how he’d get to see you like this for a month, and already dreading how quickly these next few weeks would go. As you peered around him to get a look at the dinner he’d made, he willed himself to just enjoy each and every moment he got to spend with you.

“What’re we having?” you hummed, wrapping your arms around Roy’s waist, a deliciously domestic gesture.

He clearly liked it, based on the way he smiled at you. “Found a great risotto recipe,” he explained, gesturing to the pan on the stove.

Your mouth was practically watering. “That smells amazing,” you gushed, giving him a squeeze. “Funny, risotto’s one of my favorite foods, actually.”

“I know.”

“You know?” Your eyes widened as you gazed up at Roy with raised eyebrows.

A blush covered his face as he shrugged, eyes on his cooking. “Saw it in some fucking interview you did one time,” he mumbled. “They were asking you about when you visit Italy, you talked about some of your favorite foods, you mentioned risotto. So, I figured…” He wrinkled his nose. “It’s not fucking weird, is it?”

You buried your silly grin in his bicep. “Not weird at all,” you assured him. “It’s actually really sweet.”

“Good.” A kiss landed on the top of your head. “D’me a favor, there’s a bottle of wine in the dining room.” He nodded to the door on the side of the kitchen. “Grab it for me?”

Relieved to have something to do besides swoon over Roy’s thoughtfulness, you quickly disappeared into the dining room, noting that the table was already set for two, complete with flowers in a vase; something told you that Roy Kent didn’t usually keep flowers on his table like that. Shaking your head with giddiness, you grabbed the bottle and brought it back to the kitchen.

Roy took the bottle from you, quickly opening it and pouring it into two waiting glasses. “To the table,” he instructed before smacking a kiss to your cheek. “I’ll bring the food.”

With a hum, you did as you were told, stopping yourself from skipping to the dining room with your drinks in hand. Roy joined you, carrying dishes and setting them down carefully. He watched you, face tense, as you tucked into your dinner. When you let out a content moan, his shoulders relaxed, and he began eating his own food.

“You like it?” he asked, his voice thick with nervousness.

You nodded as you swallowed another bite. “It’s perfect,” you assured him. You laid a hand on his. “Absolutely perfect.”

And you were right. Dinner was perfect. Roy was perfect, if you were being honest with yourself. He listened attentively as you told him all about your travels over the last couple of days, made sure your wine glass stayed full, laughed at your jokes, made a few of his own.  By the time he brought out the tiramisu he made- another food you’d mentioned in that interview- you were wondering how this month together could get any better.

But of course, Roy’s plans for the evening didn’t end with dinner.

The two of you lounged on his couch, just like the night you met, sipping wine and chattering quietly. Roy’s hand rested on your thigh, stroking your bare skin and watching you with a wistful smile, the kind that had your breath catching in your throat.

“What?” you asked, your voice quiet and breathy.

He shook his head and shrugged as he put his glass down. “Just… dinner was good? Dessert? The wine?” His brown eyes were earnest, begging you to say that you’d enjoyed everything.

“It was great,” you assured him, sitting up to bring your face to his. “Honestly, Roy. I don’t think anyone’s ever made me such a perfect meal.” You nudged his nose with yours. “Don’t think I’ve ever been this spoiled.”

Roy’s grip on your thigh tightened. “I like spoiling you,” he murmured, taking the wine glass out of your hand. “You deserve to be spoiled.”

The glint in his eye told you he was talking about more than just dinner.

Sure enough, he tilted your face to his, pressing a deep kiss to your lips. The hand on your thigh wandered up, dipping under the hem of your shorts, kneading your doughy flesh. A soft groan slipped past your lips and into his mouth as you brought your hands to his chest, grabbing greedily at the black t-shirt he wore.

As if he could feel your growing neediness, Roy stood, pulling you up with him. “Think you could let me spoil you a bit more?”

“If you insist,” you teased, letting him tug you along to the bedroom. He planted kisses on every inch of you he could reach as he stumbled backwards through the living room and down the hallway to his bedroom. You squealed as he pulled you onto the bed on top of him, wrapping his arms around you and slipping his hands under your shirt to roughly caress your back.

You spread your legs to straddle him, smiling against his mouth when you felt the bulge in his jeans rubbing against your already throbbing core. Always able to read your mind it seemed, Roy rolled you over onto your back and sat up, quickly taking care of his belt and shimmying out of his pants. Shooting you a wink, Roy pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it aside and revealing that gorgeous, furry chest of his. You reached up to run your hands over his stomach, biting your lip as your fingers brushed over his thick hair.

He leaned down over you, rolling his hips into yours, swallowing your soft moans in a heated kiss. “Fuck, I missed you,” he mumbled as he gripped your shirt. “Missed you so fucking much.”

“It’s only been a couple days, Kent,” you giggled as he peppered sloppy kisses down your jaw.

He shook his head, his beard scratching your sensitive skin. “Too fucking long,” he hummed as he toyed with the waistband of your sleep shorts. “You’ve got too many fucking clothes on.” Sucking gently on your neck, he tugged your shorts down, revealing the red lace panties you’d chosen carefully as you packed your bags the night before. The sound of Roy’s deep sigh as he teased the material had you confident that you’d made the right choice.

“Roy,” you breathed as he pulled your shirt up, revealing your bare breasts. His mouth immediately found one, his tongue swirling your nipple slowly, teasingly. You hardly recognized the mewling sound that came out of your mouth when he toyed with the hardening bud with his teeth; but, based on the way he bucked his hips, Roy definitely liked that sound.

After giving your breasts some attention, Roy rolled onto his back, pulling you with him. He raised his thick eyebrows as his hands roamed your thighs, fingers brushing against the lace of your panties.

“’ve got a request,” he growled, rolling his hips up against your core.

His hardness had you nodding desperately. “Anything,” you groaned, squeezing your eyes shut.

He grabbed your chin and pulled your face close to his, his eyes dark and shining with lust. “Want you to sit on my face,” he hissed before pressing a harsh kiss to your lips. “Need to fucking taste you, Empress.”

Immediately your thighs tightened around Roy. “Fuck,” you whined, heat rushing to every inch of your body.

“You like the sound of that?” he teased with a smug grin.

Not waiting for an answer, Roy roughly tugged at your panties, managing to get them down over your thighs. With firm hands, he practically dragged you up his body, not caring about the wet trail your already soaking pussy left on his thick chest hair, not stopping until you were hovering over his greedy mouth. His eyes focused on your core as he licked his lips.

“Is my empress ready to sit on her throne?” he growled, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine.

With that, he gripped your thighs, fingers digging into your skin, and pulled you against his mouth. Immediately, his moan vibrated through your body, prompting a high-pitched gasp from your mouth. His tongue slid through your slick slowly, taking his time exploring your folds. You grasped at the t-shirt you still wore, desperate to hang on to something.

Always attuned to your needs, Roy released your thighs and took your hands in his, intertwining your fingers. The gesture, so sweet and gentle, contrasted against the sinful sounds of Roy lapping up your arousal. He continued to moan and hum against your core, his beard scratching against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

“Shit, Roy,” you moaned, your throaty voice coming from somewhere deep inside you. “You’re- fuck.”

He dipped his tongue inside your cunt, fucking you slowly as you continued to writhe above him. His groans trembled through your body as he devoured you. When his nose nudged against your clit, you let out an almost animalistic sound.

Fucking hell, he thought as he tightened his hold on your hands. So fucking perfect.

You rocked your hips over his face, desperate to feel his tongue reach deeper, deeper inside you. “Roy,” you whimpered. “Gonna fucking come, Roy.”

“Cmmph,” was his muffled answer, a begging sound that was easy to translate.

With your eyes shut, you focused your whole attention on the feeling of Roy’s tongue expertly ravishing your pussy- on the sound and sensation of his deep groans- on the soaking, lewd noises that filled the room- on the bead of sweat running down your temple- on his thumb stroking the back of your hand lovingly-

“Roy,” you whined, your hips stuttering as he devoured your orgasm. Your vision went white as your pussy clenched around his tongue, soaking his face in your release. He gorged himself on your pleasure, wishing that your climax could last forever, that he could just spend the rest of his life making you come over and over.

As you came down from your high, you slowed your movements until you finally slumped over, heavy breaths escaping your lips. Tenderly, you lifted yourself off of Roy’s face, letting him help you onto your back. When he turned and hovered over you, your heart skipped a beat; his beard was positively soaked, your release dripping from his face.

“You taste so good,” he cooed, stroking your flushed face. “So fucking good for me.” He crashed his mouth into yours, smearing your wetness against your lips. He pulled at your shirt, only breaking the kiss so he could rip it over your head and toss it to the floor, immediately bringing his hand to your breast. “My beautiful empress.”

Your hands worked down his body, roaming over his chest, not halting until you reached his painfully tight boxers. Trembling with anticipation, you slid them down, revealing his already leaking cock. With a sigh into his mouth, you began stroking him leisurely, deliberately. For once, there was no rush. No flights to catch, no texts from teammates, no goodbyes the next morning. Instead, tonight the two of you could explore, and touch, and enjoy each other.

He groaned into the kiss and bucked into your hand. “Tell me what you want,” he whined against your lips. “Anything you want.”

“Fuck me, Roy,” you breathed, giving his cock a gentle squeeze. “Fuck me like you mean it.”

Roy was more than happy to oblige. He moved your hand away from his cock and gave your knuckles a soft kiss before lining himself up at your entrance. Keeping his eyes on yours, he inched into you, slowly, slower than he’d ever entered you before. His heart melted when he saw the way your eyes fluttered with each little thrust, the way the corner of your mouth twitched upwards as he gently filled you.

You’d had a quickie in the boot room with Roy Kent. You’d taught him how to have phone sex. You’d been dominated and used by him in Belgium. Sex with Roy was good, always good, no matter how you did it.

But tonight, you let Roy Kent make love to you.

He took your hands in his again, holding them over your head as he pressed his forehead to yours. His mouth hovered above yours, so close you could feel his hot breath on your lips as he gently rocked into you. Your walls clenched around him, throbbing and begging him to fuck you harder, deeper.

“You,” he huffed, kissing your face sloppily, “are so fucking beautiful.” With a soft grunt, he gave a harsher drive, hitting that perfect spot. “How’d I get so fucking lucky?”

All you could you was whimper his name and chase his mouth, trying to capture it in a kiss. Instead, he smiled, eyes trained on your face. He gave another severe thrust, eyes lighting up when he heard the quiet sob you let out. He continued his pace, slow, intentional grinds into you, cherishing every whine and moan and whimper that you gave him. His cock throbbed inside you, desperate to give you everything he had, desperate to once again make you his.

Roy squeezed your hands tight as his hips stuttered, letting you know he was close. “So glad you’re here,” he cooed. “So… so fucking happy.”

Your heart fluttered even more than your walls as you squirmed beneath him. “Me too,” you breathed. “So, so happy, Roy.” Your voice trembled with a mixture of emotion and pleasure.

“Think you got one more for me?” he grunted, giving a particularly rough thrust. “Think that gorgeous pussy can come for me?”

All you could do was moan and whimper as he rolled his hips harshly, determined to have you climax again. Between his cock filling you deliciously, his mouth sucking at your neck, and the pure joy of being in Roy Kent’s bed, it wasn’t long before you were clenching tightly around him and practically screaming his name; some little voice in your head was grateful to be in a house rather than a hotel room, where you would probably have irritated the people in the room next door. However, that little voice was drowned out by Roy’s panting, punctuated by a chorus of your name and fuck, chanted over and over.

With a strangled “Fucking hell”, Roy tensed, flooding you with his orgasm. His mouth was on yours, tongues crashing, moans intertwining as his cock emptied inside you. You gripped his hands tightly enough that you knew your nails would leave little crescent marks on the backs of his hands; the thought had your aching cunt clenching, greedily accepting every drop Roy pumped into you.

The room was filled with ragged breaths as you both came down from your highs, sweaty bodies sticking to each other- not that either of you wanted to move. Roy kissed your jaw, a soft, tender kiss, and slowly pulled out of you.

“Fuck,” he groaned, rolling onto his back, keeping hold of one of your hands. “And I get a whole month of that?”

You giggled and squeezed his hand, reveling in the soreness between your legs. “A whole month, Kent,” you confirmed. “Think you can handle it?”

He brought your hand to his mouth and kissed it gently. “Think you might give me a fucking heart attack,” he joked. “But at least I’ll die with a fucking smile on my face.”

Taglist:@hotdoglamp@daydreamgoddess14@klaine-92@gibby31@anonurs@taytaylala12@unholyhuntress@thatonedogwithablog@seacactusplant@e-mmygrey@jane-dough @zara-aliza08 @sky-full-0f-fl0wers@deliriousfangirl61@katdahlali @deliriousfangirl61 @seatbacksandtraytables @andaende @an-anxiousace-from-outerspace @sunfairyy @kravitzwhore @angelbarnes-rogers @dqndilions @an-anxiousace-from-outerspace @savage-aespa @bannsshheeebiittcchhhh

[world0fmadness]

TEDDY BEAR

ted “ nocturno culto ” skjellum x reader

♡ general dating headcanons for ted!

୨୧ he is so so so cuteee! apologies if this isn’t the greatest, i haven’t had much sleep the past few days, hope you still like it anon <3

♡ requested by anon | view my metal masterlists here and here

reading music recommendations: in the trees by cemeteries - death rides out by bestial warlust

♡ first of all, are you really going to date a guy called ted and not give him the nickname teddy?

୨୧ get the hell out of here, call this man teddy nowww! it’s so so so cute and fluffy

♡ he’d absolutely act like he hates it at first but deep down, he loves it so much and after a while, he can’t even keep up the act of hating it!

୨୧ he damn near melts every time you call him teddy, it’s just one of those things that strikes him right in his heart and he can never say no to you when you call him it

♡ when you call him it in front of his friends, he doesn’t even get embarrassed! he might blush a little but he won’t cover his face or tell you to stop and if anyone mocks the nickname?

୨୧ he is so quick to throw them a glare and depending on who they are, he will tell them to be quiet or shut the fuck up immediately, despite him being quite an introvert

“ just be quiet… honestly, are you twelve? it’s a nickname for her to me, get over it man… ” ( he honestly kind of sees it as them mocking you and he will not take that at all, even if they’re actually mocking him for allowing you to call him such a fluffy and cute name )

♡ as i just mentioned, he is a bit of an introvert but he really opens up around you and talks a lot about new music he’s working on with fenriz, telling you that you should come to the studio with him sometime and hang out with them a little! he doesn’t like leaving you home alone, just waiting for him to come back plus fenriz likes you and always jokes around with you quite a bit

୨୧ and when it comes to people bugging you or really doing anything you don’t enjoy, he won’t hesitate to come to your defence! just because he’s an introvert does not mean he’s just going to sit by and be too quiet or shy to stand up and say something in your defence

♡ if you ever got a teddy bear and named it ted, he’d be so… i don’t even know how to describe it properly…

୨୧ i just think he’d be so sweet about it, absolutely the type of guy to act nonchalant about your plushies but quietly talk to them and treat them like humans the second you leave the room

♡ ted is his favourite one now, especially since you sleep with it whenever your actual teddy isn’t around to cuddle, he’s glad you have something that reminds you of him for whenever he’s away

୨୧ ted would probably love camping with you!

♡ i’ve never actually been camping but i just know camping with him would be so so so calm and peaceful

୨୧ cuddling up in a tent under the stars with him? burying your head into his neck or chest and tangling your legs together to keep warm as he mumbles some sleepy talk into your hair… but do not let his sleepy talk fool you, he never falls asleep before you! he needs to hear your breathing even out and your hands loosen around his waist, chuckling quietly at your soft snores before he can fall asleep too

♡ however, ted is always the first one up in the morning, trying so hard to not wake you when moving out of the tent to prepare you some coffee or some other hot drink for when you wake up

୨୧ when you do wake up, he likes to pull you down onto his lap before giving you your drink, giving you a gentle kiss on the lips as he mumbles a good morning, tightening his hold on you as you cuddle into him more, both of you admiring the sun as it slowly rises

“ morning, honey… you okay? get a good sleep, hm? c’mere, made you some coffee… ” ( arghhh i just know his morning voice would be so gruff and gravely, deep as he mumbles about how beautiful you look in the morning, bathed in the orange glow of the rising sun )

♡ not to mention the sex you guys have when camping too?

୨୧ oh my gosh… so good! telling him you feel a little cold in the tent will lead to very close cuddling which then leads him kissing up your neck which leads to sloppy making out and i could go on but you get the gist! having his body on top of yours as he thrusts into you at a steady pace, the tent filled with your shared moans and the hoots of owls in the surrounding forest trees, your bodies pressing together and creating body heat, warming you up just as you wanted

“ feel so fucking good, y’know that? so tight around me… fuck… ” ( his voice during sex too? wooof, so so so hot! he does not speak much during sex but when he does? he’s guaranteed to say something hot right into your ear )

♡ now i’m just really tempted to write camping headcanons for him…

୨୧ i feel like ted would love kissing you on your hand too! it’s so strangely romantic for him, even when he’s not trying to be romantic! it’s just a go to thing for him to take your hand and bring it to his mouth to plant a peck on the skin! he’ll do it before getting out of the car to fill it up with petrol, before getting out of bed, after sex and so on! he doesn’t even think about doing it, he just does it, it’s so second nature to him for some unknown reason

♡ because ted is an introvert, he isn’t super into PDA at all…

୨୧ those cute little hand kisses are one of the few things he’ll do in public, along with some hugs and such! always expect some over dramatic whooping, hollering and whistling from fenriz whenever ted does anything like this, it’s doesn’t really bother ted too much though, he’ll just flip fenriz the bird and pull you into him

♡ i don’t think it really counts as PDA but he likes pulling your chair out for you and going to grab drinks for you too!

୨୧ it’s another thing that just comes as second nature to him, he could be talking to someone and without even looking at you or stopping his conversation, he’ll outstretch his arm and pull out the chair you’re going towards

♡ considering his name is ted and you nickname him teddy, i absolutely refuse to believe he wouldn’t be into cuddling!

୨୧ maybe not so much when in public but when you’re at home together? relaxing in bed or on the couch? he’s always the first to initiate cuddles! he’s just your big, blonde teddy bear

♡ he’ll do it so casually too, not even taking his eyes off the tv or book he’s reading as he throws an arm over your shoulders and pulls you into him, mumbling something down to you about making yourself comfortable

“ you comfy? stretch your legs out, honey… you look a little cramped up like that, here… ” ( literally, please just spread out atop of him, make yourself comfy, fall asleep if you want, he doesn’t mind )

୨୧ ted seems like a pretty big and broad dude so honestly, you could damn near lay all or a little more than half of your whole body atop of his with your head in the crook of his neck whilst his hand strokes your back, always drifting down a bit further to gently grope your ass, smirking a little when you laugh about it

♡ he’s always grabbing at your ass when no one is looking so it’s nothing new nor anything crazy sexual, he just likes squeezing it <3

[noa-de-cajou]

Idalia and Zuza belong to @soupedepates and Louis (mentioned) to @corneille-but-not-the-author

______

Aïcha dumped me.

I kinda felt it coming, to be honest. As soon as she asked me to meet up after class. We sat down in our usual café, and she told me she didn’t feel like this was gonna work out, that we were probably better off as friends, the usual breakup speech.

We lasted, what, two months? A month and a half? Longer than most of my previous relationships. We’re both aiming for an history degree and we bonded on a shared project about political relationships between muslims and christians. The only arguments we’ve ever had were about which period we were going to make that damned presentation on.

I’m sort of relieved, as usual. Maybe I'm a bit of an asshole for that, but the more it went on, the more awkward it got. At least she didn’t throw a fit, she didn’t storm out. We actually hung out after agreeing to stay friends and talked about french presidents and showed each other memes and it felt nice.

But now she went home, and I feel weird for some reason. I should be glad that I didn’t get any drink thrown at me for my lack of tears or that she didn't block me, but some of the stuff she said just won't leave my head.

I take out my phone. 5pm. Milosz is still in class. I don't want to go home yet if it's just to sit in an empty living room feeling bad about myself.

He doesn't even know I was dating someone. No one knows. Mid-september to mid-november and I didn’t tell anyone. I'm not like the rest of them, I don't like talking about my dating issues. They can ramble about their relationships all they want, but I’d rather keep mine private. I don’t owe them to anyone. I’ve seen what can happen to people who are careless enough to make everyone know about it.

The screaming and the broken arm and the hospital and the tears and the

Yeah. Anyway.

I’d much rather sit and listen to Bazyli’s misadventures with Kaspar, seeing Milosz pine or Bronya being all touchy-feely with Louis.

Or maybe you're ashamed.

…

I feel worse.

I open the family group chat. Andrzej is spamming it with deepfried memes again. There’s talks about Kamil’s upcoming birthday. Tobiasz sends pictures of him with his girlfriend, it's probably the universe giving me the middle finger. But apart from that, nothing of note. Nothing for me to fix or help with.

I need to be needed somewhere. Anywhere.

There has to be somewhere I'm needed…

Suddenly I remember Milosz saying something about forgetting his sweater at Zuza’s last time he came to help rearrange furniture. Every time I need an airhead, I can always count on him.

I text Zuza to ask if I can come by to pick it up. She replies quickly, “no problem”, and the weight on my chest eases a little.

I take the bus to the apartment complex, dial the code, ring the bell. Familiar gestures, almost automatic, comforting.

The door opens.

It’s not Zuza.

It’s her girlfriend, only wearing jeans and a sports bra, she's barefoot, how, it's cold as fuck today, her ginger hair going all over the place, and a beer in hand.

“Well, if it isn’t Streetlamp.”

Wow, another joke about my height, how creative.

“I have a name, Idalia.”

“I forgot it.”

“It’s-”

“I know your name, kid. Learn how to take a joke, will ya?”

I don’t like Idalia.

I don't like how she walks around Zuza’s apartment like she owns the place. I don’t like how she lays flat on the couch with her feet hanging. I don't like how she leaves her empty cans everywhere (and not just cans of alcohol, coke, lemonade, protein shakes??). I don't like her son, but nobody does. I don’t like her attitude towards me, like I'm some brat, even though I'm an adult and she’s only seven years older than me. I don’t like how loud she is. Anyways, I don't like Idalia.

“So, watcha here for?”

“Picking up Milosz’ sweater. He forgot it.”

“Oh yeah, that. Zuza washed it. It's on the chair.”

“Thanks.”

I go and pick up the sweater. It would be too short and large on me but it’s the perfect size for Milosz. It’s old, stained, falling apart a little. At least it smells clean, blessed be Zuza.

I can feel Idalia’s stare on me and it makes me uncomfortable. It's time for a painful attempt at small talk.

“It’s weirdly quiet today. Where's Dmitry?”

“Eh, he's at Tekla’s this week. You don't know how good it feels to be able to take a piss without a mini you attached at your leg.”

“As a matter of fact, I do.”

She raises an eyebrow, I groan as I fold the sweater.

“I have six brothers. The youngest is in middle school. Took care of them a bunch.”

It used to be seven.

“Ah yeah, I get that.”

I know. I know your family, my older brother went to school with yours. I know we had similar lives. Similar dads. Similar moms.

Shit, pure shit, all of it.

“I don’t have to do that anymore, thank the fucking gods!”

I grit my teeth.

Do you know how fucking lucky you are to be able to see all your brothers at any time

No you don’t, of course not

We're the exact same so why are you so fucking

Lazy

Irresponsible

Careless

You uncaring bit-

“... You good, kid?”

I let out a heavy breath. I open my backpack and try to make the sweater fit.

“Yeah.”

Idalia takes a loud sip of her beer. It makes me want to shove it in her face.

“I think I saw your brother, recently. The oldest, I mean.”

“Lucjan?”

“Yeah. Nice dude.”

Lucjan did tell me that he met her. He’s still friend with one of her brothers, I think. The Adamski and the Lupsowiec were always the problem children. Forges bonds, I guess.

He was surprised when he met Idalia again. She wasn't a girl when he knew her, apparently. He says she looks happier now.

She’s fucking loud about it

I envy her

I couldn't voice anything if I tried

I don't know how to tell anyone what I want

Even less what I am

“You're doing that face again. What’s wrong, Streetlamp? Got dumped or something?”

I freeze. She blinks, goes back into sitting position.

“Wait, for real?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“How come Zuza didn’t know? She knows everything about the dating shit in your little crew.”

“I didn’t tell her.”

Precisely because she repeats everything to you.

“What happened?”

“Nothing. It just didn’t work out. She said we were better off as friends and I think she’s right.”

That's not the only thing she said.

“You know, Simowiet, maybe you should do a little… self-reflection, or something. About yourself, I mean.”

I don't know what she means by that. I know I'm unlucky when it comes to dating. I've come to terms with it. It’s fine.

Maybe you just can’t love anyone properly.

I zip up my backpack. Idalia looks confused.

“Hold up, “she”?”

“Yeah, she. Her name’s Aïcha. Is there a problem?”

“No, but uh, I thought that you…”

“That I what?”

“Well… You know.”

No. I don’t know. That’s what irks me. That, and her eyes full of insinuations that I don't understand. She shrugs.

“Welp. Maybe you should stop trying to date girls.”

…

That's the most unsollicited piece of advice I've ever received and I live with Milosz.

“Thanks for the encouragement,” I reply dryly, “But I don't think you're the person to tell me that.”

“Why? It’s serious between Zuza and me!”

I know.

I just can't figure out why.

You're mean

Violent

Childish

Needy

No better than both our fathers

And yet Zuza’s still with you and I don’t get it because I'm not like you I'm nothing like you I'm nothing like him and yet it's working out

Why is it working out for you

and

never

for

me

Even though you’re a shitty person

…

Maybe

I'm

shittier

“Hey, it’s hard, I get it. You can sit down and talk if you wanna.”

“I don't want to talk to you of all people.”

… I said it out loud. She's looking at me. Her face twists into a snarl.

“Oh yeah? Why not, kid ?”

Don’t you dare

Call me that

In that tone

You're not my parent

You can’t even raise one kid right

“Because you're a fucking-”

Failure

And yet

The door opens. Zuza is looking at us with a raised eyebrow. Idalia doesn't let her talk.

“Zuza, tell your kid that yelling at me ain’t gonna fix his life.”

My cheeks are burning. Zuza looks even more confused.

“Did you yell at her, Simowiet? Did she provoke you?”

Idalia looks outraged at the suggestion.

“No I didn’t!”

I take a sharp inhale, bite the inside of my cheek.

Keep your cool

Everything is fine

You're fine.

“I’m just tired. Sorry, Idalia.”

Apologizing to her makes me want to puke, especially with how smug she looks. Zuza isn’t reading the room at all, which is probably for the better.

“Alright. Do you wanna stay for dinner?”

“No, I was just leaving.”

I don't want your fucking pity

“Thanks for washing the sweater, and I'm sorry Milosz keeps forgetting stuff here.”

“It’s no problem. I’d rather have that than Bazya stealing my stuff, you know.”

“Right.”

Because Bazyli is the only thing that keeps this whole arrangement together at this point

Maybe even our friend group

We’re always the leeches

I’ve always been the leech.

The thoughts are getting meaner. I need to leave.

“I really should go.”

“Sure, I won’t keep you. You're always welcome here, Simowiet, you know that?”

As if.

“Thanks. Bye, Zuza, Idalia.”

“See ya, Streetlamp! My offer still stands~”

I close the door like it’s the lid of my fucking coffin. It’s fine. I’m fine.

I take the way home, a notification rings in my pocket, you're needed, it's a text from Milosz.

“Hey, I'm on the way back from uni, is it okay if I bring Louis over? 🥺”

Louis. Just Louis? Not Bronya or Bazyli? That's unusual. I start to type a reply.

“Want me to leave you two alone?”

No. That's gonna make him uncomfortable.

“Why not bring the whole gang while you’re at it?”

No. Scratch that. I don't want an answer to that.

“I got dumped I'm not in the mood for guests”

… He’s just gonna be worried if I say that. He doesn't have to know.

“If you only need me to be your fucking housewife you could just say so”

What the fuck. No. That's Milosz. He’s my friend. My best friend. Why am I being so mean?

I hear Idalia’s laugh, “yelling at me ain't gonna fix your life”, how ironic coming from her.

“I don’t know. I was just hoping I could get some quiet tonight. Or talk to you. I had a rough day”

… Rough day. I just got dumped, it's not the end of the world.

Stop being so fucking whiny, Simowiet, get it together.

I stare at the text. I start typing again, slowly.

“Sure, no problem.”

And sent. Maybe the period at the end was a little too dry? Oh, fuck it, what’s done is done. The reply arrives quickly anyway.

“Yay! I’ll make dinner for us then! Thanks Sim you're the best 💖”

I smile. A little. He's adorable as always. And his cooking is good.

And you’re a hypocrite.

I put the phone back in my pocket and start walking again. Towards home, I guess. My home that doesn’t feel much like mine anymore.

Aïcha’s face comes back to my mind. Her hand resting gently on mine. Compassionate.

"Maybe you should do some self-reflection, Simowiet. About yourself, I mean."

And

"I’m worried about you, you know."

There’s nothing to worry about. I’m fine.

It’s just not my day.