#waitress in 2004

[reliablebearoftinysea]

eating out now feels very quiet, isolated. even though you are outside.

You seat yourself, scan a qr code for the menu and order. And pay all from your phone. Finish your meal and then clearing the table by bringing your dirty plates to the self service tray area. You only say thank you and exchange smiles to each one staff who bring your food and coffee.

My favourite memory while waitressing part time while finishing my gce is running to tables, small talk with the customer while walking them to the table. Asking about their day. Some times tease their children or compliment the lady’s bracelet. Putting in the order and hear the kitchen staff start to get busy. Walking around the restaurant, just making myself available for any help or assistance. Running back to the small kitchen window when you hear the bell ding. And sometimes, when there is ALOT of order, just between you and your colleagues, we see who can carry the most plates out to the table without any accidents. ☺️ especially when they alphabet a whole round of rice serving , I think my record was 7 or 8..? 7 sounds more accurate 😌

Go around with tap water for the table. Pick out used cutleries from the table. Dirty plates places on the side. Asking the customer for food feedbacks. Running to the back to wash off the remanants of food from your arm. Looking into the mirror to see your coloured contact lensed eye and smiling. Going back out to get some water to hydrate. Nudging the barkeep girl for some sweet drinks or juice.

Was those just better days when earning $1300 was a lot? Or is technology just making people more detached ?

Maybe I’m just lonelier than usual…

I wonder if my period is coming 🥹

[rateatinginsulation]

Bad idea chainshipping animatic urghhh....

[alphabetboyluvr]

habits of a clandestine nature | jjk

pairing: collegejk x female oc (angst, smut)

warnings: college!jk, rich!jk, he's a college nepo baby!!!, waitress!oc, flashbacks to summer, (mild) enemies to lovers, oc lives with tae (they're besties), jk is besties with jimin, mentions of parents infidelity, mentions of oc's virginity (lost prior to the story starting), a little angsty, jk is nawt a fuckboi, but he is stewpid, unprotected sex, bathroom escapades, multiple positions, oral (f), mentions of blowjobs, house parties, jackson wang!!!!!!!, yoongi has no lines but is also one of my fave characters lmao

wordcount: 16k

note from holly: this was written as a commission over on ko-fi!! it went through soooo many changes and edits - at one point it was over 24k lmao. i have so much lore and backstory for this couple, but I'll save it for a rainy day!! one of the main prompts was the 2004 classic a cinderella story, and there are little nods to it throughout the story, including the diner name!! a commenter on wattpad said the pairing reminded them of danny and sandy from grease and like... i see it lmao. anywaysss enjoy!! <33

minors dni // cross posted to wattpad

It's a well-trained habit, your fleeting glance towards the door of Montgomery's Diner when the bell rings.

Though the clatter of cheap porcelain being stacked on a tray almost manages to drown out the chiming metal, it's never quite enough. Softening your hardened expression, you continue on with your work, careful to not let your contempt show too much.

You already know who it is—or at least, who it could be. Only saw the girl leading the pack, but know that where Claudia goes, the rest of The Untouchables will surely follow.

Gorgeous in a way that money can't buy, and careless in a way that money makes up for, she's never taken personal issue with you. Barely even registers your existence.

From your quick look, you know that it's not just the girls today. It's the guys, too.

All with parents on the college board, they're regarded as campus royalty. Are aptly known as The Untouchables, 'cause the rules that apply to you don't apply to them. They'll likely continue with their lives in a similar manner for years to come, and will pass these attributes off to their offspring, whom they'll name after countries or distant relatives who were once regarded to be regal.

Gathering up the last of the discarded napkins on the table, you take one final, fleeting look just to see if a familiar face is with them.

It's not that you actively want to see him.

You just haven't seen him in the best part of a fortnight, which is odd.

He's been in your section of the Diner near enough every single night of the past three months—but school is starting up again, and he's got appearances to keep.

God-forbid Jeon Jungkook—son of the Admissions Director and heir-apparent to an unholy amount of real estate tied to the university—ever associates with the lowly scholarship kids like you.

The only reason The Untouchables ever come to this Diner is because it's the last remaining place close to the university that hasn't been snapped up and integrated into the campus. You guess it must feel like freedom to them, in a way.

In fact, you know this is the case. Jungkook has told you himself.

Has told you a lot.

Told you far too much.

Such candid honesty from him, shared during the lonely heat of a sweltering summer, is what makes it so jarring when he looks away as soon as his dark eyes meet yours.

Tall, broad, handsome; he's everything the gossip magazines you read during your downtime swoon over, but also everything they warn against. Too pretty for his own good, the resident agony aunt would call him if she were ever to see him. Would assume his ego is far larger than his shoe size; superiority complex embedded into his skin like the ink of his tattoos.

And while you think that perhaps those assumptions could be true, you also know the reality of him; how gentle his hands can be. Helpful, too. Delicate. Ornate, almost, when they fold bills into five petal flowers. Strong, when they grip the back of your neck. Commanding, when they're wrapped around his leather steering wheel.

You shouldn't know the way his car smells. Shouldn't know how he presses the heel of his palm against the wheel when he's reversing, or just how easy it is to clamber into the backseats over the centre console.

But you do, and it rests on your tongue like a dirty little secret desperate to escape: I know you.

You're not sure if you know him better than The Untouchables, but you know him independent of them. Not many people do.

It's rare to find him without Jimin cracking a joke by his side, or Claudia making a slightly mean remark masked as innocent ignorance as she leads him astray.

But summer happened, and so did Jungkook. With his friends away at their holiday homes, and his father's infidelity ripping his family apart at the seams, he'd needed something to stitch himself back together. Let you thread yourself through his very being, and once you'd tied yourself in a pretty little bow around his heart, he'd cut you off.

Is that not what all craftsmen do, though? Discard what no longer serves a purpose?

Memories of him, in all the places you never should have let him in, ravage your thoughts.

The scent of his aftershave lingers on the childhood plushie he used to tease you for having on your bed, but would also automatically hug into his chest every single time he entered your room.

The things he did—and the things he didn't do—corrupt your dreams and leave you restless when you wake.

The smudged mascara under your eyes hides the bags from your lack of sleep, and your only respite is that the little puffs beneath his eyes are extra prominent today. He's tried, too.

For a minute, you feel vindicated.

It doesn't last.

For the past few months, if he's been sleeping badly, you've known about it. Kept him company in this very Diner, or in the basement of a party house he was dumb enough to take you to, forgetting he'd have to return there after summer finished, too.

The walls might not talk, but Jackson Wang certainly does. Jungkook knows it's only a matter of time until his dirty little secrets—no matter how pure they actually are—become the talk of the town.

He always slept well in your bedroom, though.

Funny, that.

He's dressed simply, today: white t-shirt, black jeans, chunky black boots on his feet. It's still warm out, even if the sun does begin to set a little earlier than it had been during the hotter months. He's got no need for a jacket, and you despise how undeniably gorgeous his arms are in the dewy humidity. Tattoos trailing up and down his skin, you'd be forgiven for thinking he was a man of complexities.

Turns out he's just like every other good-for-nothing fuck boy who wasn't worth your time.

The Untouchables sit towards the front of the Diner. Your section is at the back, and there's no way in hell you're deviating from your set section. Not today. Not when he's with them.

"I thought we were free," your colleague, Maria, grumbles as you bring your tray to the counter.

Like you, she's a scholarship kid. Is the one who got you the job at the Diner after you both moved into the shared house you live in off-campus. Three of you live there—you, Maria, and Taehyung—and you all share the same disdain for The Untouchables.

"It never ends," you tease in reply. Glance over your shoulder, back at the table.

They're laughing and joking about something you can't quite decipher. All of them, except Jungkook.

There's a sternness to him. One of which you'd forgotten about. With one hand on the table, the other in his lap, his thumb fidgets over his tense knuckles. Sunglasses rest on the crown of his head, pushed up into his hair to hold it back off his face. Staring at nothing much, he's chewing up his bottom lip until he feels the familiar burn of your eyes on him. Looks your way.

It's curious, how looking at you halts his body from its self-soothing actions. He no longer nibbles on his lip. His tightly balled first eases.

"What do you think, Kookie?" Claudia drawls, drawing his attention back to the group. "You coming tonight?"

"Hm?" He questions, eyes pulling away from you. He begins to rub his thumb over his knuckles again. "Sorry, was just looking at the menu board. What are we talking about?"

"Party at the Conservatory," Jimin says from across the table. Though he's the one sitting beside Claudia, everyone knows Jungkook is the one that she's really interested in. Has been since their first day of college. "First of the semester. It's one of their birthdays. Reckon it'll be a big one."

On campus, but close enough to the boundaries that it's never infringed upon by security or university officials, the Conservatory isn't what it seems. A boarding house for the creme-de-la-creme of the Botany and Conservation PhD students, it's surrounded by land. Has rows upon rows of greenhouses for their projects.

Of the few times you've been there, you've always thought it was like a maze. The perfect place to get lost. The perfect place to get found, too.

Unfortunately for the PhD students, the house custodian took on the role for one thing and one thing only: to throw the biggest ragers on campus. Knows fuck all about growing anything that isn't illegal. Only managed to get the role, 'cause like the rest of The Untouchables, his dad works high up in the college. He's a few years older than them. Belongs to a different generation of campus royalty, but is keen on making sure his legacy remains.

After all, there ain't no party like a Jackson Wang party.

Namjoon—one of the Botanists and the birthday boy himself—has started padlocking the greenhouses.

Another one of them—Yoongi—minored in mechanical engineering. Has a coin-operated lock on his bathroom door. Makes enough money from a single Jackson Wang party to sustain himself for an entire month.

Hoseok and Jin, the remaining two, are just as messy as Jackson. Have only started PhDs because they don't know what else to do and don't want their youth to abruptly end. Live for the parties; survive for the studying.

"Now, who's told you that?" Jungkook smiles, as if the prospect of showing up at the Conservatory doesn't make him feel a little bit sick. "Jackson?"

"Obviously."

"Well, of course he's gonna tell you it'll be big," Jungkook laughs. "Wants to rope as many of you fuckers in as he can."

"And it works every time," Jimin smirks back. "If everyone thinks it'll be a rager, everyone will want to go. He's a marketing genius, if you ask me."

Jungkook rolls his eyes. Is fond in how he interacts with his friends. Has grown up with most of them. Whether or not they're everyones cup of tea is debatable, but they're his people.

And yet he finds himself glancing back over to the counter. You're not there anymore. Are out back, he assumes. Knows the layout, now. Where the walk-in freezer is. The little nook that you sit in during your break. He doubts any of his friends have ever been in a commercial kitchen, let alone one at a place like this.

While yes, his friends have only ever been good to him, he knows that it isn't the case for everyone they interact with. Is well aware that his friends would be confused beyond belief if they ever found out he knows how to click through the Diner's cash register and find the discount section. Would be even more perplexed if they were to see his initials hidden in one of the codes.

But summer was lonely.

Or at least it was.

Lonely, until it wasn't. Isolating, until he sought solace in someone he can't even bring himself to speak to in front of his friends.

Casting his eyes back down to the table, well aware that he's got no reason to feel as cut up as he does, he fakes a laugh. Looks up again at his friends with a grin so sincere that they'd never guess the way it feels like his heart is in his throat. "Alright. You're on. What time?"

The conversation dissolves into plans—what to wear, what drink to take.

After a summer apart, Jungkook thought it would be nice to be with his friends again. Thought he'd be excited; that he'd welcome them all back with open arms. Ask them about their summers, and lament his time spent here.

When Jimin asks him why he didn't go to the Italian villa his parents normally insist they spend the summer at, Jungkook shrugs.

"Dad has some stuff to sort out, so it was better to stay here," he says, minimising the reality of what really happened. Even you don't know for certain. All you know is that his father did something incredibly immoral, to the point where Jungkook can't even stand to look at him.

Is why he spent all those nights in the diner.

Was confusing at first. He was always angry. Always frowning. Always ordering black coffees and nothing else, huddled up in the corner booth, away from the world.

But with summer comes monsoons, and with monsoons come terrible conditions for walking home.

He expected you to say no when he offered you a ride. You expected to say no, too—but then a please and thank you had escaped your lips.

A routine grew. Habits formed.

Curious little thing, habits are. 21 days. That's all the time they take to develop.

Jungkook spent 63 days of summer with you in varying capacities. Enough time to learn a habit three times over.

The one that haunts him most is how it felt to have your hand beneath his on his gear stick. Finds the absence of you when he drives unbearable. Knows he's got no one to blame but himself; not just for creating distance, but also for minimising it in the first place.

He's the one who offered you a lift. He's the one who messaged you on your days off to see if you fancied going for a drive. He's the one who didn't turn the AC on just to get you shaking your jacket off your shoulders.

And he's the one that drove you out to the coast one evening for no other reason than wanting to hear the waves. He's the one who opened up to you about his family. He's the one that made things more than what they were.

Had walked along the shore with you, too scared to hold your hand beneath the lunar light. Opted for playful banter instead, nudging you into the lapping waves.

But the waves got bigger, and Jungkook's unbridled desire to have you close did just the same. Like always, he took things too far. Drenched in sea water, you'd laughed with him for the entire ride home.

Invited him in. Said, "The salt will ruin your clothes. We should wash them."

"Hand wash only," he'd said, pinging his damp t-shirt against his chest. It stuck to him in such a way you learned all of his edges before you ever saw him naked—not like there was much time between these two instances. Ended up in your shower with him, clothes beneath your feet, the excuse of hand washing disregarded the second he had you naked.

You learned three things about Jungkook in that shower.

The first is that he giggles. Lips on yours, hands clutching your jaw, whenever the water was a little too intrusive, he'd separate with a laugh. Would kiss you again, a smile still on his face. Would pretend as if he wasn't giggling.

But he was, and it was lovely.

The second was that he's the type to lean his head forward, not tip it back. With his hands pressed to the shower tiles behind you as your fingers wrapped around his thick shaft, he let his head dip to his chest. Gave him ample opportunity to press kisses to the top of your head—or at least it did until you got to your knees and started taking his hard cock in your mouth.

"Shit," he had husked. Whined. Praised. "Fuck. You're so fuckin' good at that."

It was around then that you became aware he was a head pusher, too.

Almost as if he was saving the best until last, the third thing you learned was how he likes to cum; in your sheets, cock buried in your pussy, your hands clasped above your head. Missionary, 'cause he likes to kiss you through it. In your bed, 'cause he likes losing himself in everything you are. Prefers finishing inside you, but you refuse to fuck him without a condom so he never gets exactly what he wants. It's close enough, though.

Spent weeks—months—laying unfair claim to your body, and now he can't bring himself to look in your direction. It infuriates you.

But more than anything else, it embarrasses you.

Even your reflection laughs at you. Cackles 'told you so' every time you look in the mirror.

You always wondered why you never heard much about Jungkook's hook ups around campus. Everyone knows about Jimin and how his cock has been perpetually wet since the first day of freshers week, but there's always been a secrecy when it comes to Jungkook.

It's something you've teased him about; in your sheets, bodies clammy, his heart beating so fast in his chest you'd been forgiven for thinking he'd just run a marathon.

"When do I have to sign it?" You had giggled.

"Sign what?" He'd husked, voice all wispy and fucked out.

"The NDA," you'd replied as if it was obvious. "It's been, like, what? A month? Surely it's about time you made sure I kept my mouth shut like all your other girls do?"

On your front, your arms were folded over his chest, and he was gently rearranging the pretty little updo he'd made a mess of. Though he was looking at his hands as he replied, you kept your eyes on his. Studied his sincerity.

"Reason you don't hear about other girls is 'cause there aren't any."

A smile twitched at the corner of your lips, but you didn't let it shine for him.

"Sure."

There was a small jerk to his torso as a breathy smirk formed on his face.

"You think I can't be trusted?"

"I think it's foolish to trust any man."

His deep, dark eyes sank down to focus on yours. Offered you all the sincerity you'd be searching for, and more.

"That's all I am, huh?" He'd challenged you. "Just another one of your men?"

"One of the many," you'd teased just to rile him up a little.

"Ah," he'd played along. "So that's why I always have to wear a condom?"

With a saccharine smirk on your lips, you'd gotten back in position, legs straddled over his hips. Had kissed him. Whispered, "No. That's just because I know it annoys you."

"You annoy me all the time," he'd mumbled into your lips, hands gripping your waist to get you grinding against his still sensitive cock. Barely fifteen minutes since he'd last finished, there was no way he was ready to go again.

"Hm?" You'd hummed against his kisses, then began to work your way down his neck in a way that always got him a little moany. "If I'm so annoying, why are you getting hard again, baby?"

"You can be annoying and hot," he told you as he desperately tried to not let his insatiable need for you show.

"Is that how you like your girls?" You'd ribbed once more, just to piss him off a little. It was never serious. Never something you would actually fret over.

Perhaps you should have done, but then he told you with a little too much candour, "No. It's how I like my girl. Singular."

Loose lips sink ships, and Jungkook was one iceberg away from greeting the ocean floor. Closing his lips back down on yours, he was making sure you were just as insatiable for him as he was for you. He didn't cum again that evening, even if you did more times than you cared to count.

A greedy lover, is Jeon Jungkook. Edacious.

And so you understand, now, why the girls he gets entangled with stay silent; how the hoaxes he plays leave them utterly hysterical. They're subject to silence, because who would possibly believe all those sweet little lies he tells? How mad would they be considered if they tried to convince anyone he has a heart?

His brazen lack of humanity is proven when he comes to pay for the table. Any of them could have done it. Yet he elects to stand in front of your till and wait for you to serve him.

Have you not served him enough?

You refuse to utter a single word in his direction. Don't look at him, don't give him any satisfaction. He can read it for himself, he can pay, and he can fuck off.

"Keep the change," he mumbles tossing down the bills—but like fuck are you gonna keep anything he gives you.

He begins to walk away, a little shrunken in his stature.

"Excuse me, sir."

Stopping dead in his tracks, Jungkook is perplexed to hear you address him so coldly.

"Your change," you say, holding a closed hand out for him to hold his own hand beneath. He doesn't want to cause a scene. Obliges. Is surprised when notes, not coins, fall into his palm.

More specifically, notes folded into the shape of flowers. His handiwork, he's certain. Was something he used to do in the early hours of your late night diner shifts. If he said something a little mean, or bickered with you a little too hard, he'd fold his notes up like posies and give them to you as a remedy.

Never used those notes to buy you real flowers, mind you.

Back when things were still easy, you pulled him up on it. Told him that you'd be far easier to seduce with a little wooing. He'd told you that you were easy to seduce regardless.

You didn't speak to him for the rest of your shift.

Ended it with fourteen folded bills in the shape of a bouquet, and when the backseat windows of his car had a thick veil of condensation coating them that same evening, he'd drawn you flowers on them.

"No point in flowers," he'd told you. "They just wither up and die."

Which is funny, 'cause it kinda looks like Jungkook is doing that very same thing right in this moment. He goes to speak, but nothing comes out.

Disappointing, you think, then realise of course he is. Has done nothing but disappoint you.

You smile. Jungkook looks like he wants to cry. Good.

"Don't let the door hit you on the way out."

21 repetitions. That's how many times it takes to form a habit. You know this.

You also know that 90 days of this repetition will form a habit to last a lifetime.

As you hook up your apron, and free your hair of the ribbon that had been tightly wrapped around your ponytail, you know these are 'lifetime' habits. Apron, then ponytail. Always.

But when you say goodbye to Maria, and ask if she'll be at home this evening, you find yourself leaning into a recently formed habit. It's not anything particularly noteworthy. Not something anyone would notice.

Well, not anyone who matters. You don't think Jungkook counts as someone who matters, anymore.

But he'd noticed; how you'd started glancing across to his parking spot whenever you clocked out. Had teased you for it. Asked you if it was the highlight of your day, seeing him there, as if it wasn't the highlight of his.

You should have known the playful banter when he told you not to get used to it wasn't really banter at all.

Yet here you are, glancing across to his parking spot only to see it empty.

It's not even like it's his spot. Whenever he's with his friends, they walk. Live right on campus, so don't need to drive, and if they do, they'll park right by the doors.

In the height of summer, when the lot was empty and Jungkook wasn't driving for his sake but for yours, he liked to park in the far corner. Said dumb shit about not wanting any weirdos scratching it. Whined and moaned whenever someone performed the very human act of parking next to the only other car in an empty parking lot.

"So many spaces!" He'd blather on. Would speak with his hands. Get deliberately more animated, 'cause it always made you laugh. "And they choose here?!"

The memories make you smile, until the yellow headlights of another car flood into the parking lot. They reveal what's right in front of you; a crowd of cars and not a single one of them you care for.

It's not like you cared for Jungkook, either. Was just something to pass the time when the streets were quiet and his head was loud. 

In turn, you gave him quiet, and he made your summer feel loud.

But the leaves are turning brown and the water in the roadside puddles is becoming stale. The seasons have changed and so has the nature of your interactions. It's fine. You don't care. Really. Couldn't think of anyone you'd want to hang around less. Would rather die than associate with The Untouchables.

You never needed a lift, not really. Especially not when it always took you an hour to get home 'cause Jungkook just wanted to keep on driving.

Grumbling to yourself just to try and divert your mind from thoughts of him, your heart almost skips a beat when your phone vibrates in your pocket. For a second, you wonder if it could be him.

Where you at? It could read. I'm here.

Or maybe, I miss you.

I can't sleep without you.

This is so stupid. Can I come over?

It won't say of those things and you damn well know it.

Your text thread is dormant. The last message is from you, two weeks prior.

You: you not coming in tonight?

You: you'll be pleased to know my fairy godmother turned a pumpkin into a carriage to make sure i got home safe x

You: ... at least let me know if ur alive?

Rolling your eyes at how mortifying your desperation feels, the scowl that settles into your expression is comical. It's like you're fighting with the wind that's threading itself through your hair.

Pulling your phone out, the scowl only intensifies.

Jackass Wang: party tonight

You: so????

One thing about Jackson is that he's not gonna leave anyone on read, especially when he's trying to drum up attendees for his parties.

Jackass Wang: so i haven't seen you around for a while, montgomery

"Fuckin' Montgomery," you mutter at the nickname.

It's the one that all of Jungkook's friends seem to refer to you as, as if you don't have a personality outside of your job.

Still, at least Jackson is a little bit inventive with it. Calls you Monts. Monty, Monstera Plant, Monte Carlo, and god knows what else. If it starts with 'Mon,' he's found a way to end it with a cheeky smirk and smug anticipatory look in your direction, as he awaits your reaction.

You: i like it better when i don't see you x

Jackass Wang: you know that isn't true. loverboy will be there. come with him. or don't. i don't care. you can bring your little friends with you.

You: they'd rather die :) x

Jackass Wang: y'know, you're replying an awful lot for a girl who's not interested ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

You: you just can't take no for an answer

Jackass Wang: yes i can - but you haven't said no yet. c'mon. loverboy has been moping around all week. i can't be arsed with his mardy ass energy all evening.

You: so don't invite him???? i don't see why it's my problem?????

The fact that you don't need clarification of who Jackson means is proof enough that perhaps Jackson's onto something.

Jackass Wang: conservatory any time after 9. be there or be square montgomery. or don't be. i'm sure loverboy can get his dick wet without you, but it's easier for everyone if he doesn't.

You: charming x

Jackass Wang: it's why the ladies love me.

You: all of them except this one, apparently. have a nice party. stay away from the drugs.

Jackass Wang: can't be tamed, monte carlo. nor can loverboy. come keep him company.

The block button towards the top of your message thread looks incredibly tempting. Just a single click and you'll never have to deal with Jackson Wang and his dumb parties ever again.

Part of you can't believe you've ever been associated with them, as it is.

Summer defied the conventions of the life you've built for yourself. You weren't the person you thought you were.

Kicking off your shoes when you arrive home, the door slams shut behind you. A gentle voice calls through to check if it's you.

"Maria's still working," you say as you walk into the kitchen, tossing your bag down on the floor and your phone on the counter.

Taehyung, your best friend since your first week at college, is cooking himself dinner, but offers you a spoon of the tomato sauce he's making. Humming as you taste it, you're amazed by how he manages to make even the simplest thing delicious.

"S'good. What is that? Cumin?"

Nodding, he smiles. "A little paprika, too. You want some?"

His hair is dishevelled, blonde and sunkissed from the sweltering summer skies. He always looks great with a tan; radiant and full of youth.

Shaking your head, you really don't have an appetite. "Think I'm gonna have an early night."

He's about to reply when your phone buzzes. Both of you glance down. Your skin feels red hot, and when Taehyung almost chokes on the spoonful of sauce he's just tried, he's all sorts of confused.

"Why the fuck is Jackson Wang messaging you?"

"Hmm?" You hum as if you have no idea what he's talking about. Realise from the look on his face that he doesn't buy it for a second. "Oh! That Jackson Wang. Think he sent a text to his entire contact list. Something about a party."

"No," Taehyung asserts. "Absolutely not. You cannot bullshit out of this one."

"It's not bullshit," you whine as you pretend to look in the fridge for something to drink. Settle on a beer left by one of Taehyung's friends at a party held last semester. It wasn't quite a Jackson Wang level party, but nothing ever is. "He's just trying to drum up numbers for his stupid party tonight."

Taehyung is many things, but stupid he is not. Though he's blonde (thanks to a bottle of bleach and a few too many jack and cokes), he bends all the stereotypes. His tuition is covered by a scholarship for academic excellence.

"Don't give me that bull."

"It's not bull!"

"So you're telling me, out of everyone at our college, the Jackson Wang is texting you to make up numbers for his party?"

"Yes!" you exclaim, partially a little offended at it being such an unfathomable idea. "And he said you can come too, so maybe you're the one he's really after!"

His expression is flat. You are paper thin.

He's known you long enough to know when you're giving him half-truths.

He also knows you spent the summer alone in this house, and that there's a new toothbrush in the bathroom next to yours.

"You're hooking up with him, aren't you?"

"No!"

Out of everyone to be accused of sleeping with, Jackson Wang is, like, the worst of the worst. He's handsome, sure, but he's also slept with pretty much every girl on campus. Is a teenage boy in a grown adult's body. You'd rather not fornicate with a guy who still finds 'your mum' jokes funny.

Taehyung gasps at your immediate denial. "You are!"

"I'm not!"

"All that talk about saving it for someone special, and you mean to tell me you went and lost it to Jackson fuckin' Wang?!"

Everything about this conversation is making you want to punch yourself in the face. The topic of sex, and just why you've never gotten around to it, has dominated many conversations around this dining table. If you have to discuss it again, you might move out.

"Oh my God," you whine, throwing your head back. "We are not having this conversation."

"Yes, we are."

"No, we're not, because I didn't lose my virginity to Jackson Wang!" You stress. The more you think about it, the more offended you are.

"To Jackson Wang," Taehyung echoes, as he begins to join invisible dots. "But you did lose it to someone."

"No," you insist, but Taehyung refuses to buy it. Knows you too damn well.

He always thought he'd know when you lost it. That it'd be a boy you'd been dating. Committed to. Someone good. Someone worthy. Not someone you keep in the shadows.

"There's something you're not telling me," he frowns. "What the fuck happened this summer?"

With a sigh so deep it's a miracle you're still breathing, you relent. Never signed one of those NDA's you're convinced Jungkook must hand out like candy, as if he's some sort of celebrity and not just some college reprobate.

"Jungkook," you feebly admit. Take a sip on your beer. Don't look at Taheyung, 'cause you're afraid to see his reaction. "Wasn't Jackson. Was Jungkook."

You tell Taehyung everything. How Jungkook never knew you were a virgin. How he still doesn't. How you blame yourself for your hurt, but him for not getting you any band aids to help deal with it; for not kissing you better when he was the one to cause you such hurt in the first place.

As you recite you memories, you play a game against yourself: take a sip every time you want to cry.

By the time you've told Taehyung the nitty-gritty truth, the bottle of wine that had been in the fridge is finished, as well as your beer.

"I can't believe this," Taehyung says for what feels like the billionth time.

There's a certain shame that comes with Taehyung's confusion.

Embarrassment, like the way Jungkook would cringe at himself whenever he stumbled on his words, or the way you'd covered your reddening cheeks with your hands when he teased you for looking at him in the way you did.

Remorse of time wasted before him, and time wasted with him.

Regret of the things you did and the things he didn't.

It's all very confusing. Exhausting. If you were to really think about it, you'd spend a week in bed with a box of tissues. Would ask Taehyung why he didn't warn you that a heart could feel this horrid.

But he did, and you damn well know it.

Shrugging, you reach for the bottle and split the final few glugs between your glasses.

"We were just bored," you play it off. "Had nothing better to do. No one better to do."

But Taehyung shakes his head. "You don't have to do that, yanno. Pretend like it didn't matter. It's okay that it did. Even if he is a prick, and even if he's no better than the rest of them. It's okay that it hurts."

You're silent when he says this.

Despite your teasing, you never really thought Jungkook was much of a player.

But his friends are back now, and you've been relegated to the sidelines. Doesn't matter if he spent weeks—months—playing in no field but yours. Greener pastures have presumably sprouted. Your turf is wrecked from his carelessness, and he's left you to heal yourself while he goes and wrecks another.

Whoever he was pretending to be in the summer isn't who he is now that his friends are back—but when they're laughing and joking in the basement of the Conservatory that evening, Jungkook knows which version of himself he prefers.

"You need to get laid," Jimin tells Jungkook with a laugh. "Never seen a man look so bloody miserable at a party."

Of all the things Jungkook needs, getting laid is not one of them. In fact, he thinks it would be a very sensible idea if he never got laid again. Sex is messy. People get all emotional over it.

Or more so, he gets all emotional over it.

Had never been the type to, before. Always thought it was something that just happened to other people. Not to him.

He pushes the thoughts aside. Feels a little sick. Shrugs off Jimin's remark.

"If I wanted to get laid, I would get laid."

"So why don't you? Will do us all a favour. Claudia's been—"

"I couldn't give a fuck," Jungkook interrupts Jimin. "I'm not interested."

He never has been. Wants nothing to do with this university, and the men that run it, and so would never date one of their daughters.

They're all corrupt. Every last one of them. All cheat on their wives. All throw their families under the bus for their own selfish exploits. His own father's affair has proven this to him.

Jungkook pities his friends. Just because their parents haven't fucked up yet, doesn't mean they won't.

"Oi, Loverboy," Jackson calls from across the room, breaking the tension only to replace it with a headache for Jungkook. "Where's your little girlfriend? I told her to come."

"Who?" Jimin chirps.

Jungkook grates his jaw. Is deadly serious when he says, "Leave it, Jackson."

"Trouble in paradise for our lovebirds, huh?"

"I said leave it."

"Who the fuck is he talking about?" Jimin continues to ask, incredibly curious about this turn of events. Leave town for a couple of months, he thinks, and everything changes.

"No one."

"That one from the diner," Jackson just continues fuckin' talking. Jungkook wants to scream. "The one with a stick up her ass—"

"Jackson, cut it out," Jungkook snaps. "She's no one. Just fuckin' leave it."

"You ashamed, huh, Loverboy?" Jackson berates him a little bit. He isn't trying to be a dick, but he thinks Jungkook is acting like a tool. Jackson is no saint, but at least he doesn't ever pretend to be something he's not. "Poor girl. Wear her like your favourite pair of shoes all summer and then throw her to the trash when your friends come back? I thought better of you. So did she, probably. Shame."

Of all the people Jungkook ever expected to receive lessons in morality from, Jackson Wang was not the one. He parades himself around the Conservatory like Hugh Hefner reincarnated, his class attributed to money and not behaviours.

"The fuck have you been doing this summer, Kook?" Jimin laughs, utterly dumbfounded by his reactions.

They've all had their fair share of less than conventional lovers. If Jungkook has been fucking around with a girl from the Diner, then so what? Who cares?

"Nothing," Jungkook snaps.

It's not that he's ashamed. 

It's that you're separate.

When he's with you, all of this—the bullshit of college life and calamity of his family falling apart—dissolves into nothingness. He doesn't have to think. Finds himself at ease.

If you were to ever become a part of his life—his real one, not the one he got so used to living in with you over the summer—then it'd all change.

He doesn't want that.

He wants you to be a safe haven.

A refuge point can't be in the midst of a fire, though. He has to keep you away. At arms length.

But god damn, he wishes you would come and put out his fire. He's struggling. Finds existing without you so fucking hard. Doesn't know at which point he became so dependent, but knows his oxygen is running low.

He's suffocating. Isn't sure how much longer he can keep this up.

"Yeah, sure seems like nothing," Jimin smirks with a shake of his head as Jungkook storms off to get some much needed air. "Oi, Jackson, what was that all about?"

With a shrug, and yet another girl on his arm, Jackson grins. Puts on a pathetic little voice to mimic Jungkook's tantrum. "Fink baby boy has a wittle cwush."

"Girl from the diner?" Jimin implores, still smirking at Jackson's dumb humour. "Which one?"

"You really have to ask?"

For all of his mystery, Jungkook has never been a man of subtleties. His eyes give him away.

They always have done.

When he was looking at the menu board earlier that day? It was obvious.

Before college broke up for summer, and how Jungkook would always cast his eyes down to his hands whenever you, specifically, came to take their order? It was obvious.

How Jungkook would always make sure he was on the side of the booth that gave him ample opportunity to steal glances of you? It was so fucking obvious.

Sometimes he'd laugh at the slightly sarcastic remarks you gave Claudia whenever she would ask irritating questions about the menu.

When they were deciding where to eat, Jungkook would suggest the Montgomery's Diner, always.

So, no, Jimin doesn't really have to ask.

"Stupid prick," he sighs, sipping on his beer. Loves Jungkook to absolute death, but will never understand him. Figures that maybe you do. Worries that Jungkook is about to wreck it all. He calls after Jackson, "She here tonight?"

"Invited her," he calls back. "But she's got an attitude problem to rival his. Fuck knows if she's around. You'll feel her ice before you see her."

Which is funny, because the lingering summer heat sticks to your skin as you nervously meander up a driveway you know all too well.

The Conservatory is decidedly not a conservatory.

It's a complex. A maze of buildings, and greenhouses, and fuck knows what else. You've no interest in gardening, but if excelling at it meant living somewhere like this, maybe you'd consider taking it up as a hobby.

The buildings are mostly redbrick, with large windows, and even larger doors. It's the kind of place you'd imagine a Duke of some far away land prancing about in. Playing croquet, or secretly courting a lowly village girl that his parents will never approve of.

The irony isn't lost on you.

"Wait, how do I look?" Taehyung asks for what feels like the hundredth time. "Not too dressy?"

"You're wearing a waistcoat," you reply, face twisted in affectionate condemnation. He looks great, but he also does look far too dressy. It's his 'look', though, and one that'll get him attention, both good and bad.

If Kim Taehyung walked around with the arrogance his handsome face warranted him with, he'd be the heartthrob of the campus. You think even Claudia would want a slice of him—and given his distaste for the elite yet pining desire to be on their level, it'd be quite the complex pairing.

All of the other men here are in t-shirts, but Taehyung has never been like other men. It's part of the reason you like him so much.

One thing, however, you don't like about Taehyung is his domineering need to 'fix' things. It comes from a place of love, and he only ever does it because he cares, but it's not always in your best interest.

When he told you to go and get changed out of your work uniform, you thought he was planning on taking you to a bar. That you'd be drowning your sorrows over wine you can't afford.

You would never agree to go to the Conservatory. Not now.

Which is why he didn't tell you of his plan.

Instead, he ordered a cab and didn't give you the chance to protest. You were already halfway there by the time you realised.

"Why don't we just go home?" You whine, tugging on his arm as you stand by the gate that leads through the gardens—the same ones you used to traipse around in with Jungkook. "We don't need to be here."

"Uh-uh," he shakes his head, firmly standing his ground. "I've avoided this place for two years, and the second my back is turned it becomes your new home. The least you could do is invite me round for dinner."

"It's not my new home—"

"MONTGOMERY!"

The voice of Jackson Wang yelling across the front lawn makes you want to shrivel up and die. Sink down into the ground. You'd make great compost for the botanists.

"Y'know, you and Loverboy really need to stop lying so much," he says with an incredibly intoxicated grin as he lumbers towards you. You'll never admit it, but part of you is pleased to see him. "First you saying you weren't coming, then him telling everyone nothing happened between you. Both as bad as one another."

Nothing happened between you.

It doesn't surprise you, but it does sting. And it also confuses you. Why on earth would you be a topic of conversation? The people here know you as Montgomery. The girl from the diner. You're nothing but a background character to them.

"What did he say?" You ask, disregarding everything else, not even bothering to introduce Taehyung. He's finding all of this incredibly bewildering.

"Oh, Jimin was grilling him," Jackson waves his hands around, disregarding it. "Kept saying you were no one. Refused to admit that he'd practically tied his laces with yours for the whole summer. Don't you worry, though, Monte Carlo. I had your back. Set the record straight."

Jackson Wang having your back isn't something you ever expected to happen.

Jeon Jungkook's absolute denial of your clandestine affaire de cœur is, disappointingly, something you expected.

It doesn't mean that it comes without hurt. If anything, it's far more visceral, for you only have yourself to blame. These wounds are self-inflicted, even if they're carved with a knife Jungkook crafted out of silly affirmations he never should have made.

"Where is he?" You ask, cold in your tone.

Jackson shrugs. "Try the basement. S'where I last saw him."

As Jackson saunters off to find another poor partygoer to mildly offend, you're left with a bad taste in your mouth. You've been irritated since you saw Jungkook earlier that day.

How he can just show up at the diner and act like he doesn't even know you, let alone knows what it's like to wake up next to you, is beyond insulting.

"C'mon," Taehyung urges you along. "I need a drink, and you could use three."

Conversely, you think you need an entire bottle.

A bottle of what, you don't care. Just something strong. Anything other than the shitty, overpriced whisky Jungkook always insisted on drinking.

"Fine. But we're not going to the basement."

It's perplexing to walk the halls of the Conservatory without Jungkook; to pass by strangers who have no idea who you are, but who know and admire him as if he's some sort of Hollywood celebrity.

They don't know him like you do. Don't know what it feels like to have his hand around their throat, or his fingers gently intertwined with theirs. They've never heard him laugh like you have.

And yet when you're a few drinks deep, and on the verge of calling a cab to go home, you hear that laugh again and wonder how he can bear to be happy right now.

Glancing up, his face is unreadable. The lights are dim, and the shadows obscure the painful furrowing of his brows. He looks just the same as he did back in the diner earlier that day. Perplexed. In pain. Somehow perfectly fine, too.

The group he's in is small. Some of them you know, some of them you don't.

Claudia sits across from him on the lap of some other guy, yet she doesn't take her eyes off Jungkook. She laughs a little harder at his jokes. Directs questions to him. Flirts with other people in front of him to no avail. 

Not even now, after summer when her skin is sunkissed and her radiance is rejuvenated, can she keep his attention.

In fact, none of them can once he spots you from across the room. The big lights are off, fairy lights strung up, and a sunset lamp pours a clementine hue over you.

Summer becomes you, he thinks—adores—from afar.

The year is a body, and you're eternally condemned to its heart. That's where he'll keep you. Where you belong.

Had it been spring—the brain of the year—when he'd been hauled up in that diner, he never would have let things get as far as they did.

Had it been winter—the cunt of the year, for lack of a better term—he would have let it get that far, and he wouldn't have felt bad about it, either.

But Autumn is drawing close. The gut. The time to trust his intuition, and he damn well knows it.

A hand wraps itself around your wrist, dragging you away from his car crash eyes. Jungkook slips into the dull shadows of the room, right where he belongs. Was foolish of you to ever think otherwise.

"Do you mind?" you snap, but let yourself be dragged away regardless. Part of you hopes it'll make Jungkook do something. You're not sure what. Just something.

The man who is leading you astray is familiar. Recognisable. Park Jimin.

Though he's not aggressive, he definitely isn't gentle as he leads you out to the gardens. Lets go of your wrist by an overgrown shrub just beyond the benches that are made for drunken DMC's. He isn't after one of them. Wants the facts.

"Cut the bullshit," he says.

"No hello?" You chirp. "Nice to see you? Or better yet, an introduction?"

"You know who I am," Jimin tells you, expression flat. You hate that the arrogant fucker is right. "But I know fuck all about you, and apparently you're the reason Jungkook is walking around like death warmed up. So cut the bull. What happened?"

Frankly it's none of Jimin's business. Even if he's done you wrong, Jungkook trusted you. You're not gonna throw that back in his face and air his dirty laundry—especially not considering that Jimin is Jungkook's friend. If Jungkook wanted him to know, he'd have told him.

"Nothing," you tell him. "Barely even know him."

Jimin sighs. Jackson was right. There's a reason why you and Jungkook got along so well. Are both insufferable.

Glancing behind you, Jimin raises his brows.

You turn to face his line of vision, and fail to hide your surprise when you see Jungkook by the back door. Like a deer in headlights, he's frozen in place, his darling bambi eyes so startled he almost looks scared.

"So if you barely know him," Jimin continues as you and Jungkook stare one another out. "Why the fuck is he looking at you like he's seen a ghost?"

It takes a second or so, but you manage to pull your gaze away. Turn back to face Jimin. Shrug. Play dumb.

"Mistaken identity."

"Oh, I get it," Jimin smirks, knowing you aren't gonna give him an easy way out. Needs to bamboozle answers out of you. "You both went to the same bullshitting classes over summer? Is that it?"

You're surprised to find yourself smiling. Surprised that you find humour in Jimin's words. Surprised that you aren't rolling your eyes.

He's always been the Untouchable that has annoyed you the most. Is too loud. Laughs at the most obnoxious things.

"Top of the class," you reply because it somehow feels okay to joke with him. Perhaps spending so much time with Jungkook has lowered you Park Jimin-related intolerance. Not cured it, by any means, but definitely made it easier to manage.

"Academic rivals," Jimin supposes, realising that maybe there's a little more to you than he's ever given you credit for. "That's pretty hot."

"He seemed to think so," you lament, knowing that you're revealing a far more truthful rendition of your time spent with Jungkook. Or at least, admitting that time was spent together.

With a sigh, you walk a little further into the garden. Cross your arms. Look back over your shoulder to the door, only to find Jungkook is gone. It shouldn't upset you like it does, but you find your lips pressing together in a small pout.

"Look," Jimin says, exhaling a breath so deep you're sure his lungs must be empty. He comes to stand beside you, looking across the vast expanse of the gardens. "I'm not asking for your life story. If you don't give a shit about Kook, then that's fine, I'll leave you alone. But he's my best friend, and I've never seen him like this."

Glancing at Jimin, there's a taut discomfort on your face. Guilt, almost—but you've not done anything wrong. It's on him. He's the one who chose for things to be this way.

"I give a shit," you quietly admit as you look back out towards the garden, then sigh out a pitiful laugh. "You know him. You know what he's like. Of course I give a shit."

Quite honestly you think it's impossible to not fall for Jungkook. He's everything you're hardwired to appreciate: hardworking, charming, incredibly funny. You lost count of how many nights dissolved into laughter with him. Had never known your cheeks to hurt so much.

He was gentle, too. Stroked his thumbs against your cheeks just as often as he made them ache.

It's your heart that's aching now, and he's not around to soothe your woes.

Back inside, Jungkook feels so viscerally unwell that he thinks he might be sick. Or maybe he's actually dying. One of the two.

This is everything he didn't want. You were supposed to be separate. Supposed to be a sanctuary away from this all.

You're in the thick of it, now. Jimin is grilling you, and Jungkook doesn't know what to do. It's too much. All of it. The party, the people, the fact that you look at him with ice in your eyes when he knows damn well they used to harbour the warmest of fires.

Beelining for the basement, he kind of hopes the ground will swallow him up. Stop him from making the bad decisions he seems to find so god damn irresistible.

As he yanks open the small fridge at the back of the basement, Jungkook doesn't care what he drinks. Just needs something to help soothe his fragile mine; to make him feel better, 'cause lord knows you won't.

Reaching for a beer, he doesn't ask around to see if it belongs to anyone. Finders keepers. He's an Untouchable. This place is basically his by birthright. No one is gonna argue against him.

But Kim Taehyung isn't just anyone.

"So, when you apologise for being a gargantuan pillock, are you planning on also trying to win her over? Or will you just clean your conscience and wipe yourself clean of her, too?"

Jungkook's jaw tenses as his teeth grit together. "Don't know what you're on about."

"Had a girl in tears at my dinner table earlier tonight," Taehyung exaggerates. Just wants Jungkook to feel as awful as he knows you do. "Your friends might not give a shit about your well-being, but I give a shit about mine."

And for some reason, this irks Jungkook. He gives a shit about you. Cares so much he's been torturing himself by staying away. Thinks it's better for you both.

If it truly was, neither of you would be feeling so gut-wrenchingly awful.

He knows you're angry. You've made that perfectly clear.

But he also knows you do cry when you're frustrated. Was a lesson learned when you were stressed over the diner roof leaking one night during the monsoons when no one else was in to help you fix it.

It was the first night he offered you a lift home. Had taken pity on you. Had also liaised with the college maintenance guy to check it out the next day, even if the diner wasn't technically part of campus.

Because Jungkook does give a shit about your well-being, and he refutes the claim that he doesn't.

"So what? You here to tell me to stay away?" Jungkook scoffs as he prizes off the cap of the bottle. Swigs down a sip. Then another, 'cause he's not wankered enough for this.

"I'm here to tell you that you're an asshole," Taehyung asserts. "She didn't deserve to be used by you for the summer and then tossed to the trash just because semesters starting up again."

The roll of Jungkook's eyes is so weighted that it almost feels as if they'll get lodged in the back of his skull. The last time they'd rolled that deep was in bed with you. Back then it was because his body was so divinely out of sync that his muscles couldn't keep up with his actions. This time, pleasure is the furthest thing away from how he's feeling.

"You want me nowhere near her, but the fact I'm staying away makes me an asshole?" Jungkook petulantly laughs. "Can't ever fuckin' win, can I?"

"This isn't about winning or losing," Taehyung argues back. "She trusted you."

Jungkook doesn't understand what that has to do with anything. He's not betrayed your trust. Has kept all your secrets. Tried his best to keep you secret, too.

"What was she to you, huh? Some project? A virginity to get under your belt? Something to pass the time—"

"I don't know who you think I am," Jungkook snaps, fed up being accused of something he's not. "But not once did I ever treat her badly, okay? I—" He cuts himself off. Doesn't know how to articulate himself. "We— Look, you just don't get it. You don't know me. I was nothing but fuckin' nice. Okay? And she was nice. And it was nice. And we..." He trails off. Realises what Taehyung said. "The fuck do you mean, 'virginity to get under your belt'?"

It's about now that Taehyung realises he's said too much.

But every cloud has a silver lining.

"Talk to her," Taehyung shrugs as he begins to walk away. "Not me."

He leaves a scowling Jungkook by the fridge. Heads to the stairs, and once he reaches the top, is yanked away by a small but mighty force.

"You," Jimin asserts. "With me. Now."

The sound of three knocks on the bathroom door serve as a signal: let me in.

A panicked text from Taehyung had practically begged you to go to the basement bathroom and wait for him there. Said there was drama that he needed to talk with you about.

And you believed him, 'cause you're a few too many drinks deep and honestly could do with the respite.

Perched up on the countertop by the sink, you reach over and unhook the latch, giving Taehyung the all clear to come on in. Your legs languidly swing and your shoulders are slumped, this party well and truly over for you.

The only reason you're still here is because you know Taehyung's secretly been revelling in his first Conservatory party. You fear he'll want to come every weekend, now.

"You better not have your cock out," a playful voice you know all too well jokes, as the door pushes open. Eyes closed as he enters, he shuts the door behind him. Asks, "Am I safe to open my eyes?"

You're gonna kill Taehyung. 

In the most loving but brutal way, you will absolutelymurder him for setting you up like this.

"Safe," you grimace.

Jungkook doesn't open his eyes. In fact, he presses them even tighter together. Frowns. "Jimin isn't in here, is he?"

"We've been bamboozled," you sigh, and as much as he doesn't want to, Jungkook smiles at your choice of words. Tips his head down, and open his eyes. Is a little too scared to look your way, for fear of being greeted with wrath.

"Their days are numbered," Jungkook assures you, quickly glancing across to try and work out how you're feeling.

"My sentiments exactly."

Jungkook goes to speak, but you both notice a grating metallic noise by the door. Immediately, Jungkook presses his hand down on the door handle, but there's absolutely no give. It won't budge

"Jimin," he calls, voice strong and domineering through the wooden panels. Hastily painted white, they're chipped and tarnished; covered in numbers and Instagram handles, rumours and declarations of love. It's not your first time locked in this bathroom with Jungkook, but the last was of your own choice. Had been you turning the lock with a smile and glint in your eyes that had promised him trouble. "Open it up."

"No can do," Jimins smugly sings from beyond the door. "Sort your shit out."

Hopping off the counter, you nudge in front of Jungkook to pound against the door with an open fist. Though he steps back, it's still the closest you've been with him since he left your bedroom a couple weeks ago. Part of you laments the fact he moved away from you. Part of him does, too.

"Tae," you try calling instead, hand banging on the door, but you're met with the exact same response.

"Figure it out," he calls back, but also adds, "And if he's still an insufferable asshole in five minutes time, I'll come let you out."

Despite everything, you laugh at this. Not so much because of Taehyung's words, but because Jungkook's face screws up like an old newspaper.

"What is it with him and calling me an asshole?" Jungkook mutters under his breath with a shake of his head.

The bathroom is small—just a toilet and sink built into a cabinet. There's a mirror covering the back wall over it, and another cabinet above it that you assume is filled with empty bottles and misplaced lipglosses. There's barely even enough room to breathe, although there is enough room to make Jeon Jungkook come undone in the least dignified of ways. You should know.

You wish you didn't.

"He calls you one because you are one," you assure him.

"Excuse me?" 

"What?" You scoff, hopping back up on the counter, your eyes on his 'cause you want to watch the way he gets nasty. Wanna remind yourself of how horrible he can be. Replace the memories of him in this bathroom, 'cause in all reality, they're actually really lovely. Nice, even. Warm. Everything you're trying to convince yourself he's not. "Gone deaf as well as turned into a massive prick?"

"Jesus Christ," he says, rolling his eyes, turning back to face the door. Shakes at the handle. "Give it a rest."

"Why?" You ask as if butter wouldn't melt on your tongue. "Would it make life easier for you if I just wasn't around?"

Jungkook knows what you're doing. Has bickered with you enough times to understand your tricks. This is how you start; put words in his mouth that he can't defend against.

And so he doesn't try.

"Yep," he declares, turning to face you. "Way easier. Can you tell your friend I'm an asshole, still? Get us out of this place?"

You recline in defiance. Perched up on the counter next to the basin, your back is against a mirror. Legs crossed, you're in the same white summer dress you wore to your first party at the Conservatory.

Nearly everyone had been away for the summer.

You had spent the evening tucked up together on an armchair meant for one, him in the seat, you perched on the armrest, feet in his lap.

"People will talk, y'know," you'd assured him, elbows on your knees, chin in your palms.

"So let them talk," he'd smirked. "What's there to say? We're just sitting?"

It was strange for him to be seen with you. Even Jackson has been confused, but let it slide 'cause another partygoer is another partygoer. He cared for numbers, not names.

"Dunno," you had teased. "Might start talking about the way you look at me."

"Yeah?" He'd husked as his long fingers wrapped around your wrist. Gently pulled you closer.

"Yeah," you'd whispered, the sound of the music keeping your conversation obscure. "How long has it been that you've been looking at me for? A minute, already? Only one more until you fall in love, according to science."

"You tryna make me fall in love with you, Montgomery?"

"No," you'd innocently chirped, then pulled back. "Why? Were you?"

He'd shrugged. Sipped on his beer. "Guess we'll never know."

Looking at him now, you find it hard to believe he's the same person as he was back then.

"Why would I do that?" You feign naivety. "You're not an asshole?"

He doesn't reply. Knows you're going somewhere with this. Leans his back against the wall opposite you and folds his arms as if to say, go on.

"Assholes fuck people over," you state. "You'd never do that. And you'd definitely never spend your summer in some poor girls sheets and then pretend like she doesn't exist in front of your friends—"

"There is it," he confirms. Knew it was coming. Didn't expect you to actually try and speak about things like adults. So fuckin' childish.

"Oh?" You chirp. "So you're well aware of the fact you're an asshole? Good. Glad we have that one sorted out."

"Yep," he confirms, mouth drawing to a thin line.

The fact he isn't engaging in the fight infuriates you. Just proves he doesn't care. That he fucked you over for sport.

"I'm an asshole," he says, voice full of snark. "You know it, I know it. There's no reason why you should want to be around me. No reason why you should waste your time."

"It's so funny," you gasp in fake surprise. "I was thinking the exact same thing! Isn't it so great that you came to this conclusion after you already wasted months of my life?"

He's silent, now. Cowardly.

"Y'know I always knew you were an obnoxious prick," you say, voice now soberly quiet. "But I didn't think you were this cruel, Kook."

"You know that's not—"

"What?" You interrupt, voice growing louder with each question. "Not true? You woke up in my bed one morning, and then never spoke to me again. Who does that? What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"I don't know!" He shouts, and it surprises you both.

Raking his hand through his hair as he turns away from you, Jungkook wishes he had an answer. Wishes he could explain himself in a way that made sense to you both. Instead, he harshly swallows down his anger. Turns to face you again. Looks like he might cry.

Feels like it, too. 

"Why didn't you tell me, huh?" He quietly asks.

"Tell you wha—"

"That you were a virgin."

Your previous thoughts about murdering Taehyung return. Of all the things he could have divulged to Jungkook, and that's what he chose?!

Men, you internally scoff. All fuckin' idiots.

"Hardly relevant, is it?"

"Of course it is," he snaps, turning back to face you. "If I'd have known—"

"You'd have what? Ghosted me sooner? Made it into a fun little competition?"

"I didn't ghost you."

"Gaslighting, too, now are we?" You scoff. "Hold on, let me go and get my bingo card. Things Jungkook does that are absolutely fucking infuriating. Wanna cross it off the list. It's right next to how fast you drive your car, and how much I hate your stupid fucking alarm tone."

"Well good job you never have to hear it again, isn't it?"

"Why not? 'Cause you are ghosting me?"

"No, because this is fuckin' stupid," he says, yanking on the door handle, on the off chance it will finally budge. It doesn't. "You think I'm the devil reincarnated. You don't want me, so why bother with this? This is done. Us. Whatever the fuck it was. You never trusted me in the first place. Would have told me if you did. So just call your friend, tell him I'm an asshole. We're done."

"Oh, well you're two weeks too late for this conversation, don't you think?" you argue back with a cold laugh. "But has it ever occurred to you that my life doesn't revolve around you? That you aren't the reason I'm here? Jackson invited me."

"Ah, so that's what it is?" Jungkook sarcastically exclaims, your insatiable need to fight finally sinking into his skin. "You were just using me, huh? Getting those V-plates off, so you could be ready for him? Is that why you didn't tell me? Huh?"

The mere thought of hooking up with the college's very own Hugh Hefner makes you wanna gag—but if it'll piss off Jungkook, maybe you'll consider it.

"Why would you care if I let him fuck me?" You ask with such pointed anger Jungkook can't help but feel like you're driving knives into his chest. "Do that thing you like with my tongue? You think he'd like my pussy, huh? Maybe I'd let him fuck me raw."

You never let Jungkook go unprotected. Insisted on it each and every time, and he complied even if he was a little pouty about it after you'd been fucking for a while. The trust was there. You were on the pill. He knew he was clean and had told you as such, but it made no difference.

To even suggest you'd let Jackson fuck you raw is laughable.

With a smirk on his lips, Jungkook edges towards you.

Put his hands on your crossed knees. Waits for you to jerk him away—but you don't. Instead, you watch on with salacious confusion. Say nothing. Not even when he uncrosses them, nor when he spreads them apart.

With a hand either side of your head against the mirror, Jungkook stands between your legs.

Looks down at you.

Is so close you can smell his aftershave.

A month ago, in a position like this, you'd have kissed him.

"Hm?" You cock your head. Repeat your question. "You think he'd like my pussy? How long do you think he'd take to cum? Longer than you, I hope."

Jaw tense, Jungkook swallows down the way he wants to curse you out. Closes his eyes. Lets his head dip further, his forehead now resting against the top of your head.

The contact is minimal, but God, you've missed it. Trapped in position by him, you'd forgotten how lovely it was to lose yourself to Jungkook.

"You're not being fair," he whispers. Whines, even.

"Fair?" You laugh, but it's gentle. Matches his tone. "You can hardly take the high ground on fairness, Jungkook."

He nods. Takes a second, and then pathetically begs: "Don't fuck him. Please."

"Why shouldn't I?"

"You know why," he says. Stands straighter, now. Rakes a hand through his hair. Looks down on you with such pained desperation you almost feel bad. He tries to speak, but struggles with his words again. Takes him a few attempts to get anything out. "I didn't like you because I was fucking you. I fucked you because I liked you. You know that. You know it wasn't...Fuck. You know what it was."

The past tense he speaks in cuts you up inside.

Jungkook shrugs in defeat when he's met with silence. Purses his lips. Eyes on yours, they're glassy. Watery, almost.

Yours are just as bad, because what the fuck are you supposed to say to that? He's the one that cut you out. He did this.

"What did I do?" You ask, voice meagre and pathetic. Your vulnerability is mortifying, and yet you just can't help yourself as a tear streaks down your cheek. "What the fuck did I do that was so wrong, Kook?"

The heat of his hand scalds your skin as his thumb wipes away your tears. After his cold shoulder for the past two weeks, your body doesn't know how to respond. Should you be angry? Hurt? Comforted?

All you know is that you're more confused now than you ever were when you first started hooking up with him.

"Nothing," he quietly promises. Holds your cheeks in his hands. Rests his nose beside yours. Is far too close for a man who's been trying to stay away from you. Is beginning to realise that maybe his self-preservation was thinly veiled self-sabotage instead. "I thought I was doing the right thing, but it's been so fuckin' miserable, and then I didn't know how to fix things, and then it was all such a mess and—"

The words Jungkook is yet to speak are lost in the soft press of your lips against his.

Brows furrowed, Jungkook's grip on your face tightens. Keeps you close, 'cause he feels the pressure of your lips waning but doesn't want you to pull away.

And so you don't. Instead you apply more pressure. Harder. Deeper.

It's not like kissing Jungkook is a new experience. You've done it upwards of a thousand times, now. You know his lips and his tongue, and how it likes to flick against yours; his piercings, and the frequency of his moans that vibrate into your mouth.

Kissing Jungkook is just as easy as it is hard. Easy, in the way he takes not a single considered thought. Hard, in how it becomes your only tangible thought for minutes, hours, days afterwards.

An eternity and a millisecond is lost in the kiss, just like the summer that lasted an age and yet was gone with the wind.

When your lips finally part, there's silence. Forehead resting on yours, Jungkook shakes his head ever so gently. Doesn't know how to articulate his thoughts. How to say sorry, or how to fix his mess.

While his logic was flawed, and his execution careless, his intentions had been good. As much as he had a life to go back to, and friends that wouldn't get it, so did you.

He knows they hate him—isn't ignorant to the roll of Maria's eyes every time they walk into Montgomery's, and has experienced Taehyung's disdain first-hand this evening.

He'd spent his summer getting out of the house to avoid the fall-out of his father's infidelity. Knows how much his family is suffering all because of a man who just couldn't control himself. Was trying to be better. Trying not to wreck both of your lives.

As he stands in the dingy bathroom of a party house, the lingering burn of your lips on his still smouldering, he knows that he wrecked you both regardless.

And so it's up to him to put you back together again.

"I'm sorry," you say as you break the kiss, mortified at how stupid of an impulse it had been. You don't that. Not anymore. A month ago, sure, kissing Jungkook in a dingy bathroom at a party house would have been exciting. Now, it just feels embarrassing. "I shouldn't have—"

His lips are on yours again, stealing your words from you. He doesn't want to hear you apologise. Knows that you don't need to.  Also knows that he does need to.

"Don't," he quickly says between kisses. "Please, don't say sorry."

"But I—"

"Shut up," he smiles against your lips, shaking his head ever so slightly. He kisses you again, and this time it's soft. Pretty. Poetic, almost in how it makes you feel. And then he speaks, and you're reminded of just how easy it is to adore him, even when you know you shouldn't. "You know how much I've missed this? God, I've missed you so much. Please don't say sorry. I'm sorry. It's on me. I made a mistake, alright? I fucked up." 

He pulls back. Has your cheeks in his hands as he makes sure your eyes are on his. They're dark, now, in the dim light of the bathroom you're in, but they've never been warmer.

"I mean it. I'm so fucking sorry," he whispers. Brows furrowed, lips pouty, he's got the kind of face you're hardwired to trust. To adore. Or maybe, it's just him, in general, that you're inclined to feel this way about. "Okay?"

His large hard hands are still holding your cheeks, as yours wrap around his wrists. With a shake of your head, you shrug. Pout, too.

An apology is appreciated, but it's just words. It's his actions that have been upsetting you. Not his words (or lack thereof).

"We're gonna leave this bathroom and you're gonna pretend like I don't exist again," you tell him.

The frown on his face deepens. "That's not true. And that's not what I was trying to do in the first place, either. I just thought—"

"What? That it was a good idea to kiss me on my doorstep and promise you'd pick me up from work, only to never show? To ignore my texts? To—"

"No," he quietly admits, dropping his head between his shoulders. "I made the wrong calls—but I can make it up to you. I want to make it up to you." He rests his forehead against yours. Quietly begs, "Please."

Slowly, Jungkook nudges his nose up against yours. Waits for permission.

Beyond the door, loud music thuds through the room. It obscures the conversation you've been having, keeping you just as secret as you always have been.

It's not like you told any of your friends, either, and when it came to telling Taehyung, you weren't exactly forthcoming. Perhaps you would have been the one to pretend like he didn't exist, had he not done it first.

"I want you," he husks against your lips. 

"You wanna fuck me," you correct him, lips tantalisingly brushing his with every word.

"True," he admits. "But I also wanna send you dumb memes again, and go for drives after work, and wake up in your bed. I wanna go for breakfast, and I still need to cook you my world-famous makguksu. I want to have not been a dick for the past two weeks, but I can't change that. I just wanna be what I once was to you again."

"And what was that?" You encourage.

There was never any label. Realistically, there's no right answer. 

Or at least there isn't, until Jungkook just simply says, "Yours."

And what else can you do when confronted by such a pathetic, yearnful admittance from him, except to give into how you're feeling, too?

Frantic in the way your hands are on his body—his arms, his waist, around his throat—there's a neediness to you. One he's missed. One he reciprocates, as his large palms stroke up your spread thighs, then get your legs wrapped around his hips.

The movements of your bodies are so well nurtured by now that you know what comes next; how the bulge in his trousers will press against your covered pussy, and how you'll whine at the contact no matter how minimal.

"Fuck," you whine as his hands slip under the skirt of your dress. It's an old routine at this point. He knows exactly where to go, what to do. His fingers press against the wet fabric of your underwear, just gently enough to make you moan a little harder into his mouth.

"Oh?" He smirks when he realises just how needy you are, his fingers stroking against your slick panties. "Missed me, too?"

"You're an asshole," you tell him with a smile. As his fingers get firmer, you can't help but whine. "You know I have."

He pulls back to look down at your body. Pushes the fabric of your dress out of the way. Curses when he realises the underwear you're wearing. Is his favourite pair. Red and lacy, there's a suspender belt to match it. While you're not wearing it right now, he's got pictures of you in it that belong in a fuckin' museum.

"Did you wanna fuck me tonight, huh?" He mumbles into your lips.

"Not everything is about you," you say with a smile, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Except it is. They're your favourite pair too, simply for how insanely he reacted to seeing you in them. Sure you're not in the full set up, but it was enough to have you feeling ever so confident as you left the house with Taehyung.

As his lips press against yours, his finger hooks beneath your underwear. Tugs them to the side. Gets you exposed for him.

"No?" He husks, as his fingers begin to sink between your soaked folds. "So this isn't about me, huh?"

You shake your head. Lie. "Never been less turned on."

He plays into your little theatrics. Has always enjoyed them.

"So you don't want me to do this?" He asks as his middle finger sinks into your entrance.

"Can't even feel it," you pretend, as if his thick knuckles aren't stroking against you in just the right way.

"No?" He grits. Sinks a second finger inside you. Gets you whining again, nails gripping onto his arms. His fingers slowly pump into you, easing you into the way it feels for him to be inside you.

There's something electric about Jungkook. Sends shivers through your spine. Always knew exactly how to manipulate your pussy into doing whatever he wanted, and now is no different. As you clench around him, he's overcome with satisfaction.

"This is just my fingers," he reminds you. "I don't think you can handle my cock."

Scoffing, you're desperately trying to pretend you aren't melting for him. "Please, I can handle it just fine."

"Sure you can, baby," he teases with so much arrogance you kinda wanna fight him again—but it's also why you like him. He challenges you. Gets your brain in overdrive.

And when he crouches in front of the counter, eyes aligned with your exposed cunt, you think you might actually lose it entirely.

His hands are on your thighs, spreading you further, getting a good look at the mess between your legs. When he sighs, the shallow breath that escapes his lips feels like absolute sin against your wetness.

"Oh, you really haven't been fucked since me, have you?" He teases again. "Look at how fucking keen you are. Been missing my cock, huh?"

"My vibrator's been doing the job just fine," you assure him, but it has him pulling back to cock a brow in your direction. He knows many things about you that other people don't, but he was not aware you owned any sex toys. Finds that his cock only throbs even harder in his pants at this revelation.

"Maybe so," he husks, leaning closer just so he drags his flat tongue up your folds. Has to stop himself from moaning, 'cause the taste of you is somehow even better than his memories. "But it's not better than me."

With a point to prove, and a desperation to reclaim you as his own, Jungkook doesn't entertain chitchat any longer. He dives back in, tongue lapping against your lips as his fingers push back inside you. The way he curls them just right as his tongue flicks against your clit is enough to make anyone lose their head.

Hands tangling in his hair, you find your body responding to him in the way it always does; pathetically, needily, hungrily. There's no dignity to be found.

His tongue works against you like a well trained craft, until his lips latch around your swollen bud and begin to lightly suck on it. When he hums in satisfaction—which he does often—the suction only grows stronger.

Gets you whimpering, "Like that. Fuck. Like that."

The build is just as undignified as you are. Your grip on his hair gets tighter, and the shake of your legs grows stronger. Dragging his tongue up and down your folds, he settles back on your clit. Flicks his pointed tongue against you until he knows you can't take it any longer and begins to suck again. Curves his fingers just right. Strokes you so gently that orgasm pours out of you like liquid gold. Guilds him into the most gorgeous aureate glow.

He doesn't ease. Keeps his lips wrapped around your clit. Makes sure you're spent.

When he finally releases you, he's breathing just as heavily as you are. Gets to his feet, fingers still plugged in your tight pussy. Is pleased to find you're just as insatiable as he is, pulling him in for the messiest of kisses as soon as you can. There's no care given for the fact he's covered in your arousal. You just want that tongue of his in your mouth—and when it is, you find yourself moaning from the withdrawal of his fingers.

Your hands reach to the waistband of his jeans to unhook his button. Get his zipper down. Your hands down the front of his trousers, when his thick cock is restricted by his tight boxer briefs. By the tip of his cock, a small wet patch resides; his desperation for you obvious. Gently rubbing your thumb across the pre-cum, all you can think about is his slit, and how you wanna kitten lick across it.

But it's been two weeks of near-constant pining, and all Jungkook wants is to bury himself inside you.

"Let me fuck you," he begs. "Please, baby."

If the girl who had first seen Jungkook in a shared lecture hall two years ago would have known she'd end up in a shitty bathroom with him begging for her, she'd have laughed. Wouldn't have believed it for a second.

Fresh-faced and so out of your comfort zone, the first few days at university were full of potential. It was before you had wised up to your place in the pecking order; when Jungkook was just a boy in your orientation class.

Skin kissed by European sun, there had been a radiance to him that seemed to captivate just about everyone. You weren't the only girl who had been sneaking glances his way.

You'd thought about him a lot in those first few weeks. Came to learn of his family ties around the same time you befriended Taehyung. Stopped seeing him around campus so much, and rarely ever thought of him.

But on those rare occasions you crossed paths, your gaze would always linger.

As he frees himself of his boxers, trousers suspended midway down his thighs, he gently rubs the tip of his cock between your folds and husks, "Always thought you were so pretty, y'know?"

Looking up at you for just a second, he smirks. Looks back down. Continues to rub himself against you, prepping himself with your slickness.

"Freshers week," he continues. "You never came to any of the parties."

The tip of his cock kisses your entrance, but doesn't penetrate. You stay in limbo just shy of what you both want.

"Had a stupid fuckin' crush on you," he admits. Has never acknowledged it before, but has always known. Kept it hidden. Safe. Secret.

"No, you didn't," you smile. He didn't even give you a second glance. Was always you seeking him out in lecture halls.

"I did," he says with absolute certainty. "You wore that little black sundress on our first day. Had ruffles on the shoulders."

It hangs in your wardrobe, a little out of style but still sweet in the right setting. You know the exact one he's talking about, because he's right. You did wear it on that very first day.

His cock nudges a little deeper. Enough to make you gasp, but not moan. Not yet. Gripping his arms, brows furrowed, you nod. He sinks himself just a little bit further. The feeling is overwhelming; fire on ice.

"Would have fucked you in that lecture hall, if you'd have let me," he smirks.

"You didn't even know my name," you counter, but he cuts your questioning off as he edges a little deeper, still. His hand dips to gently rub languid circles on your clit. He's not pushing himself any further, not yet. Wants to ease into how this feels.

"I did," he admits. "Listened extra hard during the roll call."

"So this has all been some big elaborate scheme to get into my pants, huh?"

"Is it working?" he jokes, leaning over to yank the cabinet above the sink open. A few random bottles and packets clatter into the sink, but he doesn't care.

He's looking on the top shelf, rifling through old boxes, sending more miscellaneous objects to their untimely demise. Spotting what he's after, he's assertive as he knocks the cabinet shut. Passes you the box.

"S'all there is. They alright?"

"Sure," you say, pulling one of the foil packets from the box. You check the date stamped on the front—only to see it's a year out of date. Some protection would be better than none, regardless of the date, but fuck it. You're on the pill. "You haven't fucked anyone else? In the last couple weeks?"

"What?" His brows contort in confusion. "No."

His expression softens, but is still laced with confusion when you toss the box of condoms down into the sink.

"I don't care. I don't want them—"

You're cut off by the way Jungkook clasps your jaw, keeping your eyes locked on his. There's a seriousness to him now; the same demeanour he holds himself with when he was taking photographs. He's intentional. Assertive.

"Promise me," he says with stern certainty. "You want this?"

When he's got you like this—legs spread, body his to claim, your soul to take—it's impossible to do anything but comply. See, things with Jungkook are reciprocal. Your feelings, your tortured misunderstanding of how a relationship could ever work, and his seriousness, now, too.

"I promise," you swear.

As a chaste kiss is pressed to your lips, his hands stroke down your spread thighs, pushing you a little further open for him.

"Can't unfuck me," he softly reminds you. Is taking his time not for the anticipation, but because he's scared. "If you fuck me raw—"

"Then I fuck you raw," you simply repeat, knowing that it's up to you to ease his woes. If anyone should be scared, it's you—yet there's a safety that comes with being with Jungkook. Smirk, then say, "Trust me. I know I can't unfuck you. I've been trying to forget—"

"Ouch," he laughs, nudging his nose up against yours.

"—but you're just..." you tailed off, not wanting to compliment him too highly. He's still in the dog house. "Memorable."

With a sardonic smile that he knows only means trouble, you reach down to grip his incredibly pert ass cheeks. Squeezing, just because you can, you encourage him to push even deeper into you—and he's the one who whines, now.

"God, you're so fuckin' tight," he praises with such pained desperation it almost sounds like he'll cry. He won't. It's just that he can't quite believe that he's raw inside you right now, and that you feel just as good as he always imagined. Better, even.

"Yeah?" You question, as you pull his hips closer, gasping as he finally sinks his full length into you once more. His fingers were thick, but they've got nothing on his cock. Like he's taken all the air from your lungs, your voice is all light and airy. Makes Jungkook even more insane.

"Yeah," he mumbles as he nods into a kiss that is just as feverant as his need to pulse his hips. He doesn't dare do it yet. Is waiting for you. "Feels so fuckin' good."

"So just fuck me," you hungrily moan into his lips.

You're challenging him deliberately, and it works a fucking treat when he pulls back with a grin. He doesn't withdraw himself, but he does pulse his hips ever so slightly. Keeps you plugged. Is just nudging even deeper into you as he keeps a hold on your thighs, keeping them spread nice and wide.

"Say please," he grunts as his pulsing becomes a singular deep thrust.

Your argumentative streak wants to fight.

You'll berate yourself later for the way you whimper, "Please."

His thick cock withdraws just a little to push back into you. He groans. Curses. Builds momentum. Speed.

The sound of his skin slapping against yours as he pounds himself into you is impossible to ignore. Your moans build. Double. Treble. He's grunting too, and then his lips are on your neck. It's a mess, quite frankly.

In the sordid shadows of this bathroom, your bodies become acquainted with an intimacy not yet bridged before. You can pretend to ignore each other in the hallways of your shared lecture buildings, but you'll never be able to ignore the desperation you have for one another. Jungkook was right. You can't unfuck him. And now he's fucking you raw, it only make it even more potent.

Harshly pulling himself out of you, Jungkook almost fuckin' cums on the spot when he realises how soaked he is from your arousal. It's not like it's a new thing, but skin on skin, it's so much more intense. Gasping from the sudden loss of pressure, you're a little unsteady. Lurch forward as if your body could stop him from withdrawing.

Holding the base of his thick shaft, Jungkook spanks against your pussy with his cock. Rubs your slick wetness around with his tip. Hooks his elbows under your thighs. Pulls you closer. Instructs, "Arms around my neck."

Wrapping an arm around your back, the other one tucks under your ass as he lifts you.

He turns. Presses your back to the wall, and lines himself up.

"Legs around me," he tells you, and as soon as you do, his cock pushes up into you again. He keeps you pinned against the wall as he begins to fuck himself into you, his lips pressing wet kisses to the curve of your neck.

The sight in the mirror behind him is lethal; his broad back covered by his shirt, but it doesn't matter. You know what he looks like. Know his muscles, and the valley of his spine, like the back of your own damn hand.

You wanna see it though. Give it a tug. Send him the right message. Get him tearing his shirt off and dropping it to the floor for you. Victory is so damn sweet.

"Kook," you whine as he really begins to get deep. "You're gonna make me cum."

"All over my cock, huh?" He grunts. "Gonna cum on cock, are you?"

His taunting only makes you whimper even more. "I'm so close."

And because he just likes to get you all whiney and needy, Jungkook stops. Puts you down. Gets you facing the mirror as you protest his unfair stealing of an orgasm.

But then he's lining himself up again, getting ready to take you from behind. Spanks your ass ever so quickly.

Sinking into you again, Jungkook curses. "Tighter like this."

"Good?" You pathetically check, and Jungkook can't help but think it's sweet.

"Yeah, babe," he promises, and pretends as if it's completely usual for him to speak to you so tenderly. "Feels so fuckin' good. Missed you so much, gorgeous. You and this tight cunt."

"Romance," you joke through your needy whines. He smirks at this, and delivers a curt little spank to your ass.

"I can be romantic," he assures you, as if you aren't being soundtracked by the sound of your skin slapping together, his thick cock fucking itself into your soaked hole. 

His eyes rise from the steady gaze he'd had on your ass to your eyes. 

Slowing himself, Jungkook holds his cock inside you without thrusting. Says, "I made that photo you took of us in your room my fuckin' phone wallpaper. I listen to that asmr guy you like before bed, every single fuckin' night. I keep one of your ribbons tied around my gearstick. That romantic enough for you?"

There's an incredibly bashful smile on your pretty face, which contradicts the way in which your pussy is tightening around him in the most lewd of ways. You're giggling when you say, "Shut up and fuck me."

But then he's giggling too, just how you like him to be. Says, "I missed your body, but I missed you more. Stupid."

"You're stupid."

"You're stupider."

"Kook," you laugh, as he's completely forgotten the task at hand. The way that he looks at you, you'd be forgiven for thinking he has. Truthfully, the connection he has with you is so much more than what sex has ever been for him before. 

His hips lightly pulse, as he says, "Sorry. Where were we?"

"Think you were gonna make me cum."

"Ah, yeah. That. My bad."

His gentle thrusts begin to build pace once more. The grin on his face drops a little as he begins to concentrate on you. Watching him in the mirror, you're perplexed to be reminded of just how ethereal Jungkook looks when he fucks.

The deep ridge between his brows intensifies, as his mouth hands slack. His cheeks hollow a little, and his eyes remain entirely focused. Dark. Deep. Brooding.

As his hand dips around to gently stroke against your clit, Jungkook is just as taken away by the way you look. He isn't sure what it is that gets his heart so heavy in his chest, but he knows that he wants you to cum. Doesn't give a fuck about himself.

The walls of your cunt begin to tighten around his length as your moans deepen. You whine his name and he encourages a response, but neither of you can really talk. A numbness is washing over you, your balance unsteady.

"I'm gonna..." you begin, but find it impossible to finish.

"I know, baby," he nods all out of breath and desperately fucked out. "Give me what I want. Cum for me."

You trust and keep your eyes on him, but the nudging on his cock against your g-spot and the slow rubbing of your clit is just enough to tip you over.

"Kook," you whimper as your walls begin to tighten around him, but it's fruitless. There's a shake to your legs, and he's the only thing keeping you supported.

"Oh, fuck," he curses from the strength of your pussy around him. He's shaking just as much as you are. "Cream on this cock, baby. Oh, fuck. Yeah.Just like that. You're gonna make me cum, too. Gonna make me cum so fuckin' hard. All in your pussy. You want that, huh?"

It's as you're desperately whining, cumming all around his thick shaft that Jungkook feels his body lose control. There's a tightness to his balls, and a shudder to his sternum, that he hasn't felt since the last time he was in your bedroom. Last time he was in you, more specifically.

"Kook," you whimper his name, and that's when Jungkook really can't hold back.

"Yeah, babe," he rasps, as his hard thrusts become pathetic stutters. "I'm cumming."

The announcement isn't needed, for you swear you can almost feel it as his thick cum begins to fill you. The lack of a condom makes it all the more primal, the way his body shudders indicative of just how much cum he's filling you up with. 

His body collapses on yours a little, his clammy torso pressed to your back. The dress you're wearing is barely on properly, and the feeling of his skin against yours is catastrophic. As intimate as sex is, it's this right now, the beat of his heart thrumming against your spine that is the real disaster. How you can ever look him in the eye again is beyond you.

But then his lips are pressing chaste kisses to the curve of your neck, and his hands are squeezing at your hips. He doesn't pull out. Keeps himself warm inside you. Says, "How the fuck am I ever supposed to give you up, huh?"

That's the thing.

He isn't supposed to, and you damn well know it.

Reaching back for some tissue to help you out, Jungkook slowly withdraws. Holds his hand beneath your pussy, then replaces it with tissue. Turns you around and lets you take over.

"Here's a radical idea," you offer, not looking at him as you quickly make sure you're decent. Stay standing with your legs crossed, just in case. "Don't."

Pulling his shirt back over his head, Jungkook presses his back to the wall. There's a distance between you, yes, but you don't really feel it, 'cause it's purely physical.

And it's not like it lasts for very long either, 'cause Jungkook decides he needs to kiss you all over again.

"Alright," he whispers against your lips. "Say we don't. Say I wanna be yours. What the fuck do we do now?"

You shrug. The answers aren't yours to decide. It's up to you both.

"Well, firstly I'm gonna text Tae," you hum. "Tell him you're still an asshole and that I need to be let out immediately."

It's been half an hour.

He came to check on things about ten minutes ago.

The music might be loud, but not loud enough to drown out the way you guys fuck. 

Summer had been quiet. In his car, in your empty house, you've never had to keep it down before. Didn't even realise quite how loud you were being.

Which is why Jimin is the one who unlocks the outside bolt with a smirk a few minutes later, Taehyung watching on with a little disgusted grimace a metre or so back.

"Gross," he whisper shouts at you, but then he's smiling, too. Notices how Jungkook touches you—the hand he has on the small of your back, and the way he clasps your hand as you begin to walk ahead of him—and finds it impossible to be mad.

"C'mon," Jimin calls behind himself, leading you up and out of the basement. "We're going to the diner."

"We?" You question, incredibly confused.

"We." He simply says. Doesn't leave it up for debate. Gathers up the rest of the Untouchables (though Claudia is noticeably absent), and tells them the same thing he told you. Drags Taehyung along as well.

Jungkook was scared of integrating you into his life, but there's no other way to do it. Has to rip the band aid off.

As you walk into Montgomery's, hand in hand with the boy who had spent his summer wasting away with you in here, both of you realise that maybe it isn't such a huge deal.

Or at least, you do until Maria clocks you. Eyes darting from you, to Jungkook, and then to your gently clasped hands, she's in a state of absolute shock. Almost drops her tray.

"Sorry, what the fuck?!"

[flickrarchivist]

eli duke on flick, 2004

[datcowboyskeleton]

Inspired by @thatoneteen ! :)

(I’m not trying to get notes or attention, I just keep putting off watching these and I need a push so I’m using this method)((Basically I’m a bad theatre kid cause I procrastinate and want help))

From the amount of notes I get, I’ll watch the musical/movie!

And yes my thoughts will be linked!

Please feel free to leave any extra suggestions, I’d love to see more!

100 Notes: Spamalot

200 Notes: Tuck Everlasting

300 Notes: Fly By Night

400 Notes: Mean Girls 2004

500 Notes: Mean Girls 2024

600 Notes: Mean Girls Broadway

700 Notes: Heathers

800 Notes: Six

900 Notes: Hamilton

1000 Notes: Be More Chill

1100 Notes: Hadestown

1200 Notes: In The Heights

1300 Notes: West Side Story Movie

1400 Notes: West Side Story Musical

1500 Notes: Legally Blonde Movie

1600 Notes: Legally Blonde Musical

1700 Notes: Les Mis Movie

1800 Notes: Les Mis Musical

1900 Notes: Tick, Tick… Boom!

2000 Notes: Waitress

[unnecessaryligatures]

Psych (TV) and Same-Sex Marriage in California

While rewatching Psych, I have been thinking about what audiences today versus audiences at the time would have thought about the references to the issue of same-sex marriage, and what it says about voting this November.

(This post contains some spoilers for Psych Seasons 3 and 6.)

A lot happened in California related to same-sex marriage while Psych was airing. In 2004 (two years before the show began), same-sex marriage was briefly legal for one month, though the licenses issued were later voided. It became legal again in June 2008 for a little over four months until Proposition 8 was passed that November, which modified the California Constitution to make the definition of marriage be between a man and a woman. This time, marriage licenses issued in 2008 remained valid.

Psych Season 3 started airing in July 2008. So all of this would have been on people's minds during 3x11 "Lassie Did a Bad, Bad Thing" when Drimmer sets Shawn and Lassiter up to be "former lovers" in their murder-suicide note.

Prop 8 was ruled unconstitutional in August 2010, though this ruling was not final until 2013, when same-sex marriages were again permitted.

6x3 "This Episode Sucks" is when we learn that Lassiter's mom Mona has been with her girlfriend Althea since Lassiter left for the academy, and he keeps a framed photo of them in his apartment:

This episode aired in October 2011. Mona and Althea's right to marry would have very much been in limbo while the appeals worked their way through the courts.

The final episode of Season 6, 6x16 "Santabarbaratown," contains this scene, where our waitress identifies herself as an ally:

That episode aired in April 2012. Prop 8 was still very much on people's minds.

The final season of Psych (Season 8) finished airing in January of 2014, shortly after same-sex couples were again allowed to marry in California.

In 2015, same-sex marriage was finally legalized US-wide, overriding state constitutions on the subject. (If Obergefell v. Hodges were overturned, state constitutions would again take precedence.)

However, the California Constitution still technically defines marriage as being between one man and one woman, thanks to Prop 8. This year (2024), there is a vote on the ballot to finally remove that language from the California Constitution.

So, the issues LGBTQ+ Californians (and the Psych characters) faced while Psych was airing are still very much relevant when you cast your vote this November.

[yanderederee]

DoubleDate,

May14th, 2004

a/n: lol, I wrote this Before MeetMyGang, so details regarding readers first time on a bike aren’t accurate anymore, buuut I don’t think anyone cares~:)

Before! › here! › after!

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯✦

You’d admired Baji for a long time now.

He was scary, and strong enough to do anything he put his mind to. He prioritized the people important to him, and took everything involving his loved ones very seriously. He was gentle to creatures weaker than him, and took them under his protection. Baji was sincere and dedicated in everything he did.

Baji Keisuke wasn’t a bad guy. And you loved him so much.

Baji, on the other hand, was having a hard time coming to terms with how he felt about you.

But he couldn’t push down the wonderment you always left him feeling after an encounter. You were his friend, no question. But you were so fragile. Meeker than the punks he usually rode with.

Keisuke still couldn’t admit it, but you’d successfully stolen his heart.

“Dude, invite her out or something. It’s summer break, you won’t see her for another month.”

“I didn’t even say anything?” Baji glared questionably at his blond friend.

“Didn’t have do. You’ve been mopping around all week. Probably because—“

“Chose your next words carefully Matsuno,” Baji cut in monotone. Chifuyu puffed his cheeks. “Fine fine,” he backed off, stretching from his previous spot as Peke J’s bed. “See ya then.” He waved off, throwing his bag over his shoulder and headed to the door.

“Oi! What for?” Baji complained.

Sure he had a lot of better shit he could be doing with his time. He could go to Akihabara for the weekend while his mom was gone. He could ride out anywhere he really wanted to and enjoy the summer time he earned. That you helped him earn.

“Why, i thought you were too busy moping around to notice.” Chifuyu joked without malice. After, he quipped his brand new phone out with a wide grin. “And if you’re ever so curious, Y/nnchan just invited me out to meet at the cat cafe.~”

The first division captain stared at his vice underling with a deep mix of emotion. He could identify one of those complicated feelings as jealousy.

You asked to hang out with Chifuyu? Baji looked over at the vibrant screen of Chifuyu’s phone, barely making out your name. Pink and blue bubbles littered the screen. “When did you get her number in the first place?”

“Not too many of the guys have phones, so Mom, Ryoko and Y/n are my only contacts right now.”

Baji suddenly really wanted a cellphone.

“So, you coming or what?” Chifuyu asked, throwing Baji a balled up pair of black socks. “Why would I come?” He grumbled out.

“Cause she asked me to invite you~” Chifuyu grinned wickedly. His heart stopped for a moment.

“Hurry up or I’m gonna tell her you bailed!” Chifuyu yelled before darting out of the apartment. “Damnit! Hold on you son of a bitch!”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯✦

When the two managed to get to the cat cafe, they were already ten minutes early for the agreed meeting time. “Oh, party of three? Booth 9, enjoy!” The waitress purred once they entered. Confused, they looked over and saw you looking over the menu.

“You’re early!” Chifuyu laughed when he was first to enter the booth. “Chi! Yeah, haha, I was here when I texted you actually.” Your eyes darted over to Baji, happiness spread across your features. “Kei! So happy you came!”

Baji avoided making eye contact, sure to out himself shy if he did. “The hell? Cute~,” Chifuyu laughed again, his comment clearly coming off as more than friendly. Baji felt heat prickle his ears at this point. Was he trying to provoke him?

You laughed at Chifuyu’s comment, and held the menu out to the both of them. “I ordered a few appetizers already, the frushi is actually the specialty of the day!” You chirped along the menu with excitement.

Well, if nothing else, Chifuyu wasn’t a liar. You really were so cute. A little weird and outgoing, but so, undeniably cute.

“I’ll probably get an order of gyoza.” Baji thought out loud, lazily holding the menu in front of him.

Chifuyu ordered a blue ramune poured over a lemonlime soda.

Baji ordered a black cherry soda with a subtle vanilla cream mix rested at the bottom.

And after much deliberation, you decided on a rich brown-sugar milk tea.

“It’s a little surprising how much cats love you, Kei.” You admitted. “No kidding, strays far and wide can’t get enough of him. Baji actually always leaves his bedroom window open for—” Chifuyu went along praising his captain, ultimately leading to his embarrassed captain to cut him off abruptly.

“Oh yeah!! Didn’t you say you had a cat, Chi?” You asked.

“Oh yeah, Peke J! He’s adventurous, and visits with Baji more than he’s actually home. I bet he’d really like you.”

Baji just couldn’t put his finger on it. Chifuyu was just being friendly, yet somehow he was getting under his skin like never before. “Yaknow, Baji and I actually talked about opening a pet shop in the future!”

You beamed in response to the topic, gaze fluttering between the two delinquents. “A pet store?” You asked, nibbling on a gyoza.

Chifuyu glanced over at Baji, hoping he’d jump into the conversation.

This was his role after all, the perfect natural wingman.

Unfortunately, Baji only saw the situation for its surface level; Chifuyu was blatantly flirting with you for the both of them, Right in front of him.

Baji glared a little bit, and shrugged. “Nah, Mikey‘s talkin about seriously applying himself to motor racing. Sounds sweet,” he grinned his canines.

Chifuyu gaped at his answer. Was he trying to look cool? Was he seriously that oblivious to romantic ques?

Yet, ever the same look of amazement, you smiled back. “Motor racing?! I totally forgot that’s like, your guys’ thing, motor bikes!” You visibly prickle with excitement. “I’ve never been close to one actually. They’re really loud and kinda scary from what I see, but you guys use them all the time right?”

The both of them gaped at your reaction. “They seem pretty cool.” You laughed almost awkwardly, Almost as if to let out a hint, but ready to retract at any sign of uncomfortability.

Chifuyu looked at his captain, the stars glaring over his vision obvious. “Baji’s bike is sick! A Suzuki GSX250E! With an attached second seater. He won’t admit it but he saved up a bunch so I could ride alongside him to Toman meetings.” He praised his captains generosity openly again.

“Yer full of shit,” Baji laughed, “I had that thing way before you.”

“How thoughtful! Chifuyu’s pretty new to the gang, so you haven’t saved up enough for a bike yet, right?” You asked Chifuyu, the eye contact you shared making Baji feel a little … possessive? “I’m doing very good saving up for one!” Chifuyu perked up, eager. The only other person he could brag these hobbies with was Kazutora, after all.

“You have a bike model in mind?” You asked, tilting your head, as you allowed an all-white rag doll cat affectionately demand your attention. Baji rose a brow, your choice of words making him curious. “How much you know about bikes?”

You giggled sheepishly, hiding your face in the cats fur. “J-just a little. I just, got a little curious, s-so I learned a few neat facts,” you waved this off quickly, and drew the attention back to one of them. “I really don’t know much besides what a book would tell you. Are you trying to shop for speed or style?”

To you, it seemed like a genuinely honest and curious question. To them, they had finally found something to hold over your smart little head. Something they knew all about, and for you to be clueless!

“Baji goes for speed. I’m thinking as long as I can keep up, I might as well aim for something flashy!” Chifuyu admitted with pride.

“Oi, don’t talk down about my Goki like that! It looks cool as hell,” Baji kicked the blonde affectionately.

“Actually, that makes me wonder, how do you guys even get your bikes? They’re like, triple digit thousand yen. Do you all just have jobs or something?” You asked while more felines covered what was visible of you.

Chifuyu plucks one of the cats what began to claw biscuits into your exposed skin, and cradled it in his arms lovingly.

Baji struggled, stuffing his face with a third gyoza. “My bike didn’t really ride when I first found it. A real piece of junk. But I brought the pieces to Shin and asked if he could make it drivable.”

“Guess it wasn’t in that bad o’f shape. Polished up the framework and helped put the parts together, baby was driving the next two months.”

“So Mikey’s brother spotted you the cost to restore your shitty bike?” Chifuyu teased. “Asshole! I paid with physical labor for that bike!” Baji pushed.

Putting the context clues together, you asked without filter, “Shin sounds like a nice guy, helping you restore a bike so willingly. Maybe he could give you tips, Chifuyu.”

The atmosphere got deathly quiet.

No one wanted to say anything, evident on Baji’s hardened expression and Chifuyu being visibly nervous. “He’s dead,” Baji said finally, no indication to continue.

“Oh… I’m sorry to hear that,” you say quietly, briefly lowering your head to show your condolences. “Based on how you speak of him, Mikey seems to take after him. What does he drive?” You asked, making an attempt to sweep the rough atmosphere away.

To you, it seemed as though the subject of Shinichiro’s passing was an unpleasant one. You felt it impolite to pry.

Baji looks you over, noticing your calm demeanor as you handled the tense answer he just gave. He was used to people acting nervous around him if he wasn’t careful. But he liked feeling as though he didn’t need to filter his words to appear kinder, when he simply didn’t want to talk about it. Baji really liked the way you always treated him so kindly, accepting his sharp attitude without taking it personally.

“A Honda. CB250t.” Baji answered without reluctance. He didn’t mean to come off prickly, but the pause insinuated otherwise.

You began thinking something over in your head, before a cat pounced to get your attention, making you shriek with laughter.

“Sorry sorry,” you apologize to the jealous cat, divvying out a generous handful of treats. This distraction seemed to serve as a middle point of the lunch. Drinks were about finished, food demolished, and the sun was still high in the sky.

Chifuyu yawned, and stretched his limbs. “Way too nice to just go back home though,” he admitted, tossing his head in Baji’s direction. “What’s everybody else doing?”

Baji reciprocated the yawn, and rested his head on the back of the chair. His eyes were focused on you as you played so joyously with the cats. He couldn’t get over just how cute he thought you were. He’d be damned if he said that out loud though.

Not realizing he had went silent, Baji lost himself in through, gaze softened your way. He was so used to his obnoxious glasses blocking this lovestruck look, he found himself doing it again without them.

Chifuyu took note of this, getting mild second hand embarrassment from how oblivious Baji was.

Chifuyu wanted to feel grateful that, at least, you were too distracted by the cats to notice his captain’s affectionate stare. Except, when he glanced over at you, Chifuyu saw a twinkle of something in your eye.

You knew Baji was staring at you. And by acting as though you didn’t notice, you soak in the unintentional affection, with a blush and a smile.

Chifuyu felt his heart rate Racing at this point. This was The Most silent, yet intense, atmosphere of backhanded flirting, without so much as eye contact to fuel the flames.

The waitress had made her rounds by this point, clearing the table of everything, and asking you three if you would like anything to go. “I’d like to order two shortcakes, and three lemon iced teas please! One yuzu, rose, and lavender.” You agreed, while Chifuyu added a specialty lemonade on the to go order.

“I don’t have anything else to do,” you admitted while the three of you gathered your bearings. “Any plans?” You asked, giving no credit to Chifuyu’s exact same question that’d went ignored earlier.

Baji shruggled. “Nah. All that talk about bikes for me itching to ride, though.” He smirked.

Baji liked you, he really did. This whole time, he had made an effort to push you to not get too close. But this moment, covered in cat hair, disheveled and smiling so affectionately. Baji couldn’t help but ask,

“How bout it? You think modified bikes are cool, how bout taking a ride on one?”

The way your face lit up at his question blinded the two delinquents. “Really?!” You asked, clearly excited. “Well don’t get all misty eyed!” Baji blared back, embarrassed.

Once the three of you had gotten your to go orders, you all made way back to their apartment complex to pick up Baji’s bike and keys.

Being the sweet little thing you were, you bashful admitted the to-go order you placed was actually meant for their mothers. “Moms like it when you get them a little treat, to show your gratitude!” You reasoned with their confused response.

The first stop came to Chifuyu’s apartment, since it was two floors below Baji’s.

Chifuyu sighed, a little embarrassed at the way you chatted so openly and casually with his mom.

“She probably thinks y/n’s my girlfriend, she always jumps to conclusions like that.”

It was quiet when Baji didn’t give a reaction. He’d planned on simply waiting patiently for you to finish. He could help but notice the way you chatted this same way with his own mom.

“Guess that wouldn’t be so bad.” Chifuyu whispered by accident. Your conversation with Chifuyu’s mom died out from Keisuke’s ears, the only thing he could register was Chifuyu’s whispered words.

He knew he was overthinking it, so like everything else, he pushed the thought down, even if it did bother him.

“Well, I wanted to drop off the lavender tea and cake! I’m glad to know you’re well!” You went to wave your goodbye. “Finally we can go!” Baji grinned, hyping up his spirit to ride. “Not so fast,” you shook your head at him. “Still gatta drop off the cake and tea I got for your mom!”

Baji was stunned once again. He really did try having patience with you, but damn were you making it difficult. Without argument though, the two boys followed you to the sixth floor.

“Y/n!! I’m so happy to see you,” Ryoko sighed with contentment when she’d successfully tucked under her arm in a big hug. “Jeez, glad she doesn’t greet me that way,” Baji mumbled to Chifuyu, who laughed in response. “Cake and tea? I knew you were my favorite kid,” she took a sip of the yuzu lemon iced tea.

“Hate to remind you that I’m an only child, hag,” Baji bit back. “Gonna change; the cat hair’s starting to itch.” He rolled his eyes, leaving Chifuyu alone with the girls. “So, how’s my second favorite kid?” Ryoko asks with comical volume, aimed in Chifuyu’s direction. Chifuyu chuckled at the muffled “shut up!” that came out of Baji’s room, holding up the keys to Baji’s Suzuki.

“She’s never been on a bike before, so Baji’s gonna take Y/n riding before the meet up tonight.”

“Oi, Kei! You be careful!” She yelled seriously, sashaying over to the spare coat closet. “Do you have an extra helmet?” She asked, earning an annoyed grunt from her teenage son.

“Yes, I have an extra helmet-“ he tried agreeing with her, “is it clean?” She asked, making Baji pause his response. “…Who was the last to wear it again?”

Ryoko sighed, and pulled down a dark purple cycle helmet. “Please wear this,” she asked you, holding the sturdy plastic into your hand. “I used to wear it when I’d go out riding. ‘Long as you and Kei stay friends, use it for me, alright?”

Needlessly sentimental, you hugged her as you’d accepted the helmet before your exit.

“Where do you usually keep your bike?” you asked, aware that parking one’s bike at home can be dangerous. “Theres a cheap parking garage down the street.” Baji nodded in the direction of the garage when the turn came up.

Once making it in, the three of you circled the bike in admiration. “It’s nice,” you hummed, modestly squatting to checkout the details of the bike. “It’s okay if I touch right?” You asked.

Nervously, Baji squats beside you and made a gesture to show it was fine to do so. Ever so gently, you traced your fingers along the exhaust pipe, as though you would peel away the metal to look further inside. Quietly, you hummed, and examined the parts most visible. “It’s big though, I don’t think my feet can reach the peddle..”

Both Baji and Chifuyu laughed. “You thought i was gonna just let you ride my bike like that?” He asked as though it wasn’t even a consideration. “Huh? Is that not what you meant earlier?” You asked, embarrassed. Baji laughed again, barely making it to his feet.

“You dork! I was just gonna drive you around some backroads.” He ruffled your hair roughly. You gave a sheepish “oh” before looking away in embarrassment. “W-well, that’s fine.” You said, a little shyer this time.

Chifuyu’s eye glinted from your wit.

Chifuyu could read you like the back of his hand, a feat Baji was clearly oblivious to. By acting shy, you automatic lit a flame of nervousness under Keisuke’s idea of a platonic activity. You were hinting at the exposure—tiptoeing that line of flirtation neither of you quite crossed.

And Baji fell for your tricks like a lovesick fool, suddenly bashful and confused for as to why.

“What ‘bout you Chi?” You asked, lining the scene with a comfortable middle ground between both boys. Body language gave away you still tried including Chifuyu, as to not kick him out as an unnecessary third wheel.

“Kinda itchy with cat hair, honestly. Think I’m gonna take a shower and check out what Ryusei’s doing. Catch ya later?” He asked.

It was Chifuyu’s turn to finally let go of the reins; he’d secretly initiated the date, lead the conversation, and got you two to this point. His job was complete. Satisfied, he turned to walk away. “Wait,” you pulled on Chifuyu’s sleeve, subconsciously making the boy lean into your cupped hand. “Thanks for today, it meant a lot to me.” And with an innocent kiss to the corner of his lip and cheek, you doddled back to Baji, who’d bucking his heel against the kick Stand.

Chifuyu wouldn’t stop thinking about that chast kiss you gave him. How soft it was. How precise your movemeets were— you had Meant to kiss him where you had. Not enough to consider romantic, but definitely a forewarning that it could have been. He was swimming in those thoughts, even when he watched you and Baji plow down the street happily.

Was he seriously falling in love with his Boss’s crush?

[gaiathemexicanbeauty]

it only takes a taste | mike schmidt x reader

word count: 1.6k

warnings: none! this is just pure fluff and maybe kind of slowburnish lol

this was loosely based off of it only takes a taste from the waitress musical! :3

idk i just really like the idea of late nights with mike even if he's too tired to even think straight lmao

also don't ask what time period this takes place in, i was born in 2004 and know like 2 things about the 70s-90s or whenever the movie takes place bc its never explicitly mentioned

i also do not regularly bake or cook so do not be afraid to go to my comment section and tell me if something sounds off

i love this man ok, i have said it 1000 times already but i've been in love with him ever since i first saw him when i was like 12 or 13 and was even more so obsessed with rebornica's mike design for YEARS. 12 year old me would have an aneurism if she knew about the fnaf movie

you let out a long yawn, one hand reaching up cover your mouth so as not to potentially ruin the mood of any customers around; granted, there was only two and they were graveyard shifters from somewhere outside of town but customers are customers. you'd been working at sparky's for a couple of months now, figuring it was an easy way to make some cash and keep food on the table. of course, you hadn't accounted for the very long hours that passed where you half debated trying to sneak away since no was around from 2-4:00 am: your boss would kill you, though, and you wanted to stay employed.

soft oldies music plays in the background as you glance over at the clock ticking away on the wall. just as you move to grab a rag to clean the counters for the 5th time during your shift, you hear the bell above the entrance jingle and don't even have to look up to know who it is.

mike wasn't a regular at first, just someone who popped in at random and very quietly asked for a coffee. after a while of starting a new job, he started coming in at almost 11:00 pm everyday and always asking for the same thing: just a plain, black coffee. "seriously?" you had said with a smirk the first time he said his order to you, your eyes widening at the attitude you had just given a customer. fortunately, mike was quick to respond with a tired but good natured laugh, his hands folded in front of him. "i'm all ears if you have other recommendations." he mumbled with a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, giving you instant relief.

now, it was just clockwork. "hey." mike sighs with a soft sigh, rubbing a hand over his eyes as he takes a seat at a chair by the counter you were standing behind. "coffee machine is kind of acting up tonight, you're gonna have to give it a minute. want anything else while you wait?" you say as you approach the counter, giving him a quick smile. mike is about to decline your offer, his lips parting to say something before his eyes land on something on the farther end of the counter. "what about that? still good?" "you're just in time. i was going to take the rest of it home." you say with a smile, walking over to the cake stand holding an apple pie with only 3 slices left of it. you take the lid off to plate it, handing it over to mike with a hum before bringing him utensils. you don't even get the chance to bring up to him that the slices have been sitting there for a couple of hours, blinking in shock at the way he's quick to start eating.

you turn your back to start taking down the chalkboard advertising the special from the day before, giving mike his one moment of quiet you were sure he needed. you start to think about what your day will consist of once you're done with your shift, dreading having to clean your room before you can actually sleep. "did you make this?" "yeah. why, is it bad?" you say with a chuckle, turning to look at mike again; your eyes widen a bit at the way mike is looking at you, his own eyes looking at you like he can't believe what he just put it in his mouth. "no, no, it's..it's really good, like. really good." your cheeks redden a bit at the sudden compliment, pushing a piece of hair behind your ear as you occasionally glance at him enjoying the pie you'd made; you wouldn't say you were amazing at cooking but you definitely knew enough to make a meal that would do more than just feed you.

it also didn't help that you'd been harboring a crush on mike for the past month. that you were aware of, he didn't have a partner of any kind but that might have been more to do with the fact he didn't have time for one than anything else. you at first brushed it off as just not having contact with anyone your age that late at night, just enjoying his company when nights got lonely. but you couldn't deny the way you would style your hair a bit differently or try a new perfume in the hopes of getting a compliment from mike; to your absolute pleasure, he almost always pointed it out. now to hear this sudden praise for your cooking took you out of your element.

"thanks, really, but i make it all the time. i can make thousands like it and they'll all be the same." you say with a light chuckle, crossing your arms against your chest as you look over at the cake stand sheepishly. "then maybe you should consider getting a day job making these instead." mike says between bites, giving you a playful smile. you can't help but scoff despite the smile on your face, looking over at mike again. "well, if it's that easy, maybe YOU should quit your job and come and join me. keep me company." the two of you have a quiet laugh, your cheeks reddening at the indirect compliment you had paid him. once his plate is empty, you take it away from him just to have an excuse to do something with your hands (also to get away from the almost fond look that mike was giving you right now, definitely not on par for him). there's a tense silence between the two of you before mike speaks up, clearing his throat when he speaks. "uh, i tried making that at home. the pie, i mean. i don't remember what kind it was right now, but it definitely didn't end as well as that." he says with a nervous laugh, hands folded in front of him again as you hear the coffee machine start to pour out his drink.

"well, what exactly did you do wrong?" with surprisingly no hesitance, mike goes on to tell the story of how sure he was about this recipe he'd seen in a catalogue, going above and beyond to make sure this "stupid thing" (his words) came out right. little did he know leaving his creation unattended for even a second would result in smoke pouring out of the oven and having to throw out a charred-black pastry; "and then abby went and acted like we could just go and do it all over again and.." mike starts, hands waving around uncharacteristically as he finished off his story. he caught the way you were trying to hold back a laugh, fingers pressed to your lips that were etched into a small smile. "it's ok, you can laugh all you want. i never tried doing it again." you can't help the laugh that leaves you once he gives you his full permission, still trying to keep your voice down. "i-i'm sorry, really.." you giggle once you've calmed down, rubbing your hands over your face before you start to walk around the counter to where mike is sitting. "but that's not how making a pie works. you can't just leave it like that or give up on the process that easily."

mike makes a face that says 'i'm listening', shrugging his shoulders when you sit on the stool next to him. "making a pie is like.." you start with a sigh, hands propping up your chin in thought as you look up at the clock. "you just know when some things feel right. if something is too much or too little, whether you need to start again or not. lord knows i've had to redo entire pies because the crust wasn't flaky enough or the filling didn't taste like apples enough." you say, chuckling a bit as you remember all the times you'd slaved away for almost entire days trying to nail down the perfect home recipe. you take a minute to think again, sitting back a bit as you smooth down your apron tied around your waist. "and it also doesn't help if you make something just to make something. when you bake or just cook a plain old steak, you have to make it like you're crafting a story or making a song. all of my best meals were made with someone or something in mind."

your cheeks go red again when you realize the very unprompted ramble you went on, a nervous laugh leaving you as you look down at your lap. "sorry, you totally don't have to-" "no, no, i-" the two of you jump a bit at the way you both try to speak first, sheepish smiles tugging at your lips before you go quiet again. the bell above the door jingles and you don't have to look up to know the two of you are alone now. "i like hearing about that sort of stuff. i really only hear about it when i'm here with you and it's..nice. different." your heart soars and you can only hope that mike can't somehow feel or hear it, trying to give him a warm smile without saying something you'll regret. you get up from your seat with a when he checks his watch, knowing that's code for 'i need to go' even before he stands. you're almost sure he'll leave without saying anything which you are simultaneously grateful for and hoped he wouldn't do, already busying yourself with some other menial task. "hey."

you look up almost as soon as he speaks, seeing the smile tugging at his lips and not able to contain your own. "save those leftovers for me. i hope it still tastes like you were trying to make it for me when i get back." he says, a smug look in his eyes as your lips part a bit in shock. you try to call out to him before he jogs out to his car, taking off accordingly.

-> ta da its done! :D &lt;-

this was honestly less romantic than i wanted it to be but i promise that my brain is racked with thoughts of him literally EVERY DAY so mayhaps i can write something else that's more up to par one of these days

but thank yall for reading! :D i haven't been able to pump out a oneshot like this for a while and it felt good to write something longer than a couple of paragraphs, i have missed this account sm 🐺💗 love yall and i hope that you all are having a fantastic day!

[wen-kexing-apologist]

Bengiyo's Queer Cinema Syllabus

For those of you who don’t know, I decided to run the gauntlet of @bengiyo’s queer cinema syllabus, which is comprised of 9 units. I have completed four of the units (here is my queer cinema syllabus round up post with all the films I’ve watched and written about so far). It is time for me to make my way through Unit 5- Lesbians, which includes the following films: The Incredibly True Adventure of Two Girls in Love (1995), Bound (1996), Water Lilies (2007), Saving Face (2004), D.E.B.S. (2004), Set It Off (1996), The Handmaiden (2016), Carol (2015), Imagine Me and You (2005), Two of Us (2019), Rafiki (2018), and The Color Purple (1985). 

Today I will be talking about 

The Incredibly True Adventure of Two Girls in Love (1995) dir. Maria Maggenti

[Runtime: 1:34 , Watched on: Netflix, Language: English]

Summary: Randy cuts class to run her aunt’s gas station. Evie’s the popular girl at school. When the two meet, they discover love, trouble- and themselves. 

Cast: - Laurel Holloman as Randy Dean - Nicole Ari Parker as Evie Roy

__

Well, the Lesbians unit is already off to a great start with this film. Watching this movie was oh so very much fun and I am very happy that we were getting movies with this many sapphics in it, it’s a rare treat, at least on my end. 

It was a very interesting piece of media to start with after Heartbreak Alley because nothing too terrible happens in the movie itself, but the film is not a bubble type of film where homophobia and the consequences of being queer don’t exist. Randy and her family were especially impacted by it, we are just tuning in to a time in their life where they’ve come out the other end of the truly terrible life moments. 

So when Evie shows up, wealthy, sheltered (at least from the consequences of being queer), and initially unaware of her own sexuality we get to see all the ways in which Evie can be brave because she doesn’t know any better and Randy can be brave because she does know what can happen and tries anyway. It’s taking me back through the Race, Class, and Disability unit a little bit in the way the movie shows all the freedoms and restraints that come with Evie and Randy’s respective positionalities in the world.

Evie isn’t scared of holding Randy’s hand at the diner because she doesn’t believe that someone would beat them up for it. Randy has just gotten over the initial fear of holding hands with a girl she likes in public when the waitress comes over and interrupts the moment and Evie has to be the one to make the second attempt at holding hands in public at the diner. 

I love the little nods towards that line, the way that Randy wears her Act Up shirts to school and people are able to clock her, but she still tells Evie that she was seeing a married woman, and Randy sees that as coming out to someone (which it is) and Randy tells her aunts that she came out to someone at school and is congratulated for it because you never really stop coming out and it can be a big deal or a small one every single time. 

Randy’s only friend is Frank, another queer kid at school, and Evie’s got three friends we see her with most of the time who are all straight women generally uncomfortable with Randy as a person and especially grossed out by the thought of Evie and Randy hanging out, much less dating/being in love with each other. I was definitely worried initially when Evie’s friends started talking about Randy that she would get quiet, or relent, or play along with her friend group. I have to say that was probably one of my most favorite parts of the film, that Evie didn’t do that. Evie spoke up against her friends, she defended Randy time and time again, and maybe it’s the sheltered aspects of her life that allow her to just come right out and tell her friends, after they were already being so homophobic, that she was in love with Randy and they could simply stop being friends with her if they had a problem with that. 

And in fact, Evie’s friends do walk away, and Evie is left alone in a diner because she told her friends she loved a woman. And she’s allowed to be upset about that, and Randy is also allowed to be like “yeah, I could have told you that” about it because, again, she knows all that there is to lose by being out and clockable. 

You can see it in the way she handles conflict, that Ari presses her against the wall, and grabs her by the scruff of her shirt, and threatens to kill her for seeing his wife, and while it is hilarious that Regina is just standing there unfazed, hitting him with a fly swatter until he lets go, Randy just standing there with her neck red from being assaulted, holds popsicles to her neck and immediately lies to Evie about what she just experienced. In fact, if I recall correctly, Randy never once breathes a word of that encounter to Evie, even though they are a couple, and Evie cares about Randy. But why would you tell the freshly minted queer you were preoccupied with being threatened for your entanglement with another man’s wife?

There were lots of little things that I loved about this movie, especially as they related to the home. That Evie is there in a big house, with just her mother, refusing to talk about her feelings around her father in a relatively silent house cutting straight to the cramped, overcrowded kitchen with four lesbians wriggling around each other trying to get dinner on the table. I love the camera work around Lena when the camera pans slowly down her entire body, when the only thing in frame is essentially just Lena’s tits bouncing around as she does boxing moves. And my absolute favorite, the tops of heads we see passing back and forth and back and forth while Randy and Evie stand perfectly still, holding hands, and talking to Randy’s family the first time that Evie meets them. 

gif by @roseillith

I love that they let Randy’s aunts argue about a very present concern (their differing feelings about having Lena in their house) and that that argument is not the be-all-end-all of their relationship. I love that Randy’s biggest issue is not that she is queer, but that she likely will not be able to graduate highschool. I love that Evie’s biggest issue is also not that she is queer, she does not struggle at all with her queer awakening, and that the biggest problem her mother seems to be having is that she left the house a mess when unsupervised for a few days. Which is not to say that her mother will not struggle with the sexuality aspect of it, but that I don’t get a sense that Evie will be kicked out of the house or need to flee it the way that Randy absolutely did when she came to live with her aunt. 

Their issues feel very high school, and their romance, and all the drama around it feels very high school, and I think the movie did a good job conveying the messy, shitty, dramatic bullshit we put our families through as teenagers. 

Favorite Moment

My absolute favorite moment, hands down, by miles in the film is the fight between Randy��s aunts. And this may end up resulting in essentially two favorite quotes being put down in this post, but I just have to talk about the conversation that Rebecca and Vicky have over an ex-girlfriend that has been staying with them after breaking up with her boyfriend. 

I love that this fight has a number of layers to it: one, that Lena is an ex-girlfriend of one part of the lesbian couple and that can definitely wear down some patience from the current partner; two, that they are raising a child that isn’t their own and are adding an additional stressor on top; three, that they do not have the money to really swing another long-term guest; and four, the difference in their life history as queer people is majorly informing the perception of how this is going. 

We don’t have only messy lesbians, we have a long-term, established relationship between two people who are doing the thing where they make continuous and active choices to stay together and are talking about the things that are causing tension in their household to try to reach some level of compromise. They are allowed to fight without me having to worry that they are going to try to throw some break up between the adults in Randy’s life into the mix. 

This film came out before gay marriage was legal in the United States, but I love that we can understand the depth of the commitment Rebecca and Vicky made to one another, in whatever version of a partnership they have created for themselves with one of the most incredible lines of the film: 

Rebecca: “I made a vow that my house would always be open to the people I love. You and I both took that vow when we moved in together. I needed it when I was young. Randy needed it when she moved in with us. Even you needed that once.” Vicky:  “No I didn’t.”  Rebecca: “No, I guess you didn’t.” 

I love the quote because it does speak to the queer experience, my housemate and I are both queer, and we have tried our hardest to make sure that our other queer friends know that our door is open if they need it. We know Randy has been disowned by her mother, we know her aunt must have been raised in some level of similar environment, and it is understandable from Rebecca’s point of view that she and Vicky remain a support and safe haven for wayward queers forever. And how that viewpoint builds on Vicky’s problems with Lena staying with them instead of Lena going home to her mother to get over the break-up.  Because if Vicky never had the experiences that Rebecca and Randy had of having nowhere else to go, then I can totally see how it might be harder for her to understand why Lena is staying with them and has been staying for so long. 

And I like that Lena is still there at the end of the movie, which indicates to me that Rebecca won that argument and Vicky is at least continuing to tolerate the newest addition to their little queer family. 

Favorite Quote

“I don’t want to shock you or anything but I really wanna hold your hand right now. I’ve wanted to hold your hand all day.” // “I’ve held hands with a girl before.” // “Girls like me?” // “I guess not. But what could happen?” // “We’d get the shit beat out of us, that’s all.” // “Just for holding hands? I don’t believe that.” // “God Evie, you are so sheltered.” // “Unshelter me.”

I like that Evie can be brave in this moment expressly because she does not understand what she is putting on the line by being queer in public. But she is turning 18 soon, and she is heading off to college, and she cannot be protected forever, especially not if she wants to be herself, and if she understands her queerness and wants that to be an active part of her life that she doesn’t have to hide, she will learn eventually. And she does, she tells her friends if they have a problem with her being in love with Randy that they can leave. And they do. And if you ask me there is a part of Evie that is saying that only because she doesn’t think they actually will, and that she is surprised when they actually do get up and go. But she pays the price and she is sad about it, but not remorseful. Never remorseful about being open with the people that she cares about and losing them as a result. 

Score

8/10. I was not a huge fan of the acting in a lot of this, and the script was not the strongest. But there were some really great moments that felt so true to form and I am endlessly glad that this film exists. 

[the-offside-rule]

The Rom-Com Matserlist ♡

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In which, your faves star in the lead romantic leads in iconic rom-com scenarios

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The WAG au Masterlist ☆

The College/Work au ◇

Rules to requesting

Feel free to request x

Set It Up (2019) - Rodrigo Riquelme (Atletico Madrid)

Set It Up romantic comedy about two overworked assistants, who try to set up their demanding bosses in hopes of getting a break from their stressful jobs. As their matchmaking schemes unfold, the pair grow closer, leading to unexpected romantic sparks between them.

How To Lose A Guy In Ten Days (2003) - Lando Norris (McLaren)

How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days is a rom-com about a magazine writer tasked with driving a man away in ten days for an article, and an advertising executive who bets he can make any woman fall in love with him within the same timeframe. As they each try to achieve their conflicting goals, their tactics lead to humorous misunderstandings and unexpected chemistry, complicating their plans.

She's All That (1999) - Hector Fort (FCBarcelona)

She’s All That is a teen romantic comedy about high schooler who, after being dumped by his popular girlfriend, makes a bet that he can turn any girl into the next prom queen. He chooses the shy and artistic student, as his target. As he helps transform her appearance, he begins to genuinely fall for her, realizing there’s more to her than he initially saw.

A Cinderella Story (2004) - Alejandro Garnacho (Manchester United)

A Cinderella Story is a modern retelling of the classic fairy tale, following a high school student mistreated by her stepmother and stepsisters after her father’s death. Secretly, she exchanges messages online with a mysterious boy who turns out to be the school’s popular quarterback. When they arrange to meet at a Halloween dance, her identity is hidden by a mask, and she flees before he discovers who she is. As he tries to find his Cinderella, she learns to stand up for herself and fight for her own happy ending.

Bridget Jones Diary (2001) - Francisco Trincão (Sporting Club de Portugal) & João Félix (Chelsea)

Bridget Jones’s Diary follows the life of a single, self-conscious woman who decides to take control of her life by starting a diary to document her goals and misadventures. Juggling her crush on her charming but unreliable boss, and her growing attraction to the seemingly aloof yet kind man whom she apparently knew when she was a child, she finds herself caught in a humorous and heartfelt love triangle. Through ups and downs, she learns to embrace her imperfections and discover what she truly wants. [Please request two athletes for this, as I need a Mark Darcy and Daniel Cleaver]

10 Things I Hate About You (1999) - Franco Colapinto

10 Things I Hate About You is a teen romantic comedy inspired by Shakespeare’s The Taming of the Shrew. It follows an outspoken and independent girl who has little interest in dating, and her younger sister, who can only date if her older sister does. To solve this dilemma, a boy who likes the younger suster pays the rebellious troublemaker to whoo the elder of the sister. As their relationship grows, real feelings emerge, complicating their plans.

50 First Dates (2004) - Marc Casado (FCBarcelona)

50 First Dates is a romantic comedy about a regular man who falls for a special woman with short-term memory loss that causes her to forget each day by the next morning. To win her heart, he must make her fall in love with him anew every day, devising creative ways to remind her of their connection. As his dedication grows, he learns the importance of patience, resilience, and unconditional love.

The Wedding Singer (1998)

The Wedding Singer is a romantic comedy set in the 1980s, centered on a charming wedding singer who’s heartbroken after being left at the altar. While struggling to move on, he meets a kind waitress engaged to an unfaithful fiancé. As he helps her to plan her wedding, the two grow close and develop feelings for each other. [Please request two athletes as I need one as the main love interest and the fiancee]

Pretty Woman (1990) - Carlos Sainz (Williams)

Pretty Woman is a romantic comedy about a kind-hearted Hollywood sex worker, and a wealthy but emotionally distant businessman. When he hires her to accompany him to high-society events for a week, they develop an unexpected bond that challenges both of their worlds. As they spend time together, she inspires him to see life differently, while he helps her envision a new future for herself.

When Harry Met Sally (1989) - Lance Stroll (Astok Martin)

When Harry Met Sally is a romantic comedy that explores the evolving friendship over several years. After a contentious car ride from Chicago to New York, they meet again and debate whether men and women can be just friends. As they navigate relationships and personal growth, their bond deepens, leading to a heartfelt realization about love.

Anyone But You (2023) - Max Verstappen (Red Bull Racing)

*Anyone But You* is a romantic comedy about two hopeless romantics, whose initial spark quickly fizzles after a disastrous first date. However, they later find themselves attending the same destination wedding in Australia. Despite their mutual distaste, they agree to fake a romantic relationship for the sake of appearances, leading to unexpected comedic situations and revealing new dimensions in their connection.

The Notebook (2004) - Anthony Gordon (Newcastle)

The Notebook follows Noah and Allie, two young lovers from different social backgrounds who meet one summer in the 1940s. Despite obstacles from her wealthy family, their deep bond endures across years of separation and personal growth. Told through him as an elderly man reading their story to his wife who he fell in love with, who suffers from dementia, the story captures themes of enduring love and memory.

Something From Tiffany's (2022) - Leandro Trossard (Arsenal)

In Something from Tiffany's, a mix-up at Tiffany’s leads to unexpected romance and self-discovery. Rachel, a bakery owner, mistakenly receives an engagement ring that Ethan meant for his girlfriend, Vanessa. As Rachel and Ethan’s paths continue to cross, they begin to question their current relationships. Eventually, the romantic mix-up becomes a catalyst for both characters to find what they truly want, bringing them closer together in an unexpected, holiday-themed love story filled with warmth and charm【18†source】【19†source】.

Notting Hill (1999) - Pablo Gavi (FCBarcelona)

Notting Hill centers on a humble London bookstore owner, whose life is upended when he falls for a famous actress. Their romance faces challenges from her fame and the pressures of the public eye, yet their connection deepens as they navigate misunderstandings, insecurities, and moments of humor in the quaint London neighborhood of Notting Hill.

*Once the movie is gone, so is the athlete with it*

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

maggie any movie suggestions that give off vibes of your hotd stories? desperately need to fill the hole before you drop another banger!! 😤😤😤😤

Oh, interesting!!! I do actually have some movies/shows that I associate with my fics, I'll share them below 🥰

Martyrs: Civil War (2024), Dawn Of The Dead (2004), The Walking Dead (Seasons 1-3)

1968: Mad Men (Seasons 6-7), Rosemary's Baby (1968), Walk The Line (2005)

Napoleonville: Waitress (2007), The Crown (Season 4), You've Got Mail (1998), Ferris Bueller's Day Off (1986)

WTWICD: Seven Pounds (2008), The Dark Knight (2008), Gladiator (2000), Me Before You (2016)

Comet: One Direction: This Is Us (2013), Interstellar (2014)

NICIY: The Tudors (Season 1), The White Queen

NTTF: Good Will Hunting (1997), Snow Dogs (2002), I've been told that this fic is Grey's Anatomy coded and I guess I kind of see it?? (Seasons 1-2)

HYNITYID: I truly don't have any, I was possessed by a demon when I wrote this

And as a little bonus, here are some movies/shows I associate with my 💎 Mysterious New Fic 💎: The Knick (Season 1), Crimson Peak (2015), Titanic (1997), Sleeping With The Enemy (1991)

Thank you for already assuming it will be a banger 🥹🥰

[unknown171204]

Starmania 1979

The French singer, author and composer Michel Berger one day heard about a surprising news item . Patricia Campbell Hearst, the daughter of a billionaire, kidnapped by terrorists ended up joining their movement out of love for one of her kidnappers !

This true story will fascinate him, to the point of starting an album inspired by this story :

This will be the “Angelina Dumas” project .

Ultimately the album never saw the light of day and only one song that remained of Berger's work remained that he recorded as a duet with his wife France Gall :

Frustrated by what he considers to be a failure, Michel will not let go of what he thinks (rightly) is a good artistic vein

thanks to his wife who will make him meet the Canadian singer Diane Dufresne, Michel will work with his lyricist Luc Plamondon with whom he created the most famous rock opera in France :

The story takes place in an undated future (despite a now outdated reference to the year 2000 and the 80s) Humans now live in underground galleries redeveloped into a huge city called Monopolis. The only mirage of happiness for ordinary citizens is the number 1 television show "Starmania" where everyone can become a star for one night .

We simultaneously follow the lives and actions of several characters :

Johnny Rockfort : A young anarchist leader of the terrorist group " les étoiles noires " ( the black stars )

Sadia : A transvestite student co-creator of " les étoiles noires "

Marie Jeanne : The depressed waitress who works at the " Underground café "

Ziggy : A mythomaniac and ambitious homosexual record store owner

Cristal : The host of Starmania

Stella Spotlight : A sex symbol on the decline

Zéro Janvier : An extremist politician running for became president

Gourou Marabout : An extremist politician also competing in the presidential election

Roger-Roger : the TV presenter

Brilliantly the duo Berger / Plamondon went out of their way to organize the broadcast of a special television program in 1978 in order to present the songs to as many people as possible :

The show was performed for a short month for 33 performances at the Palais des Congrès , but it is considered one of the greatest French musicals

DISTRIBUTION :

Daniel Balavoine : Johnny Rockfort

France Gall : Cristal

Fabienne Thibeault : Marie-Jeanne

Étienne Chicot : Zéro Janvier

Diane Dufresne : Stella Spotlight

Grégory Ken : Ziggy

Nanette Workman : Sadia

Roddy Julienne : le Gourou

René Joly : Roger-Roger

Due to his short presence on stage, the show did not have the right to a complete recording (it is today considered a highly sought after lost media) but fortunately the audio of the show has available in its entirety !

To get an idea of ​​the visual identity of the show I had to dig into the TV archives :

The repetitions :

Full live audio of the show :

한국어 자막과 함께 :

Single :

Monopolis / Quand on arrive en ville / Le blues du business man / La complainte de la serveuse automate / Ziggy / Le monde est stone

But the most memorable song is " SOS d'un terrien en détresse "

A song renowned for its difficulty and which launched the career of Daniel Balavoine then, years later, that of Star Academy 2004 winner Grégory Lemarchal :

ANECDOTES :

The original album contains two songs missing from the final show :

Petite Musique terrienne Part 2

L'air de l'extraterrestre

This extraterrestrial is a deleted character who only appeared physically in two production ( Francis Martin in 1980 and Marc Gabriel in 1986 , in this last version we discovered that Roger-Roger was in reality an alien ) the song, or rather its theme, will be recycled in several subsequent versions .

The show also contains several unreleased and missing songs from the album that will never be reused !!

La serveuse et les clients

Jingle de Stella

Sex shops , cinéma porno

Les parents de Cristal

Le tango de l'amour et de la mort

...

Claude Dubois (the original voice of Zéro Janvier) is the only one of the singers present on the album who did not reprise the role on stage, unfortunately it was because of his drug addiction, he took his revenge in 1989 when he replaced Richard Groulx on stage ( thanks to miss-starmania for the archive picture and additional information )

...

Michel Berger abandons his role of Grand Gourou to Roddy Julienne without any explanation ?!

...

In this version, in addition to randomly attacking wealthy people in the street, scratching their cars and raping girls in parking lots, les étoiles noires of 79 are a bit more extreme than in the other versions … Roger Roger specifies that the terrorists deliberately disconnected the oxygen ventilation of an entire neighborhood, killing all the residents ! This free murder will be deleted from other versions

...

The name Johnnie Rockfort (a complicated pun to translate which can mean "strong rock'n'roll " or just the cheese of the same name ? ) is perhaps not a coincidence , the producer of the show Roland Hubert, not being convinced by Balavoine, completely unknown at the time, he fought (in vain) with Berger so that the role was offered to the rocker Johnny Halliday

...

According to the memories of France Gall, during one of the performances a disgruntled spectator had fun whistling throughout the show exhausting Daniel Balavoine who patiently waited for the curtain call to jump into the audience to beat him up while he was still wearing his bulky costume ( the one below )

...

France Gall speaks about the show :

For more Starmania or to discover other French musicals I invite you to follow the path of my main masterlist to learn more about French musicals and their stories :

[absurdthirst]

Christmas For Hire {Dieter Bravo x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 22k

Warnings: Drug usage, strip clubs (we respect sex workers in this house), alcohol, lewd comments, oral sex (female receiving), protected sex, breeding kink (just talk), lactation kink (just talk), fantasy, Dieter being needy, angst, miscommunication

Comments: Alone and lonely for the holidays, Dieter finds himself in your place of work. Drunk and high, he offers you the deal of lifetime, $20k to pretend to be his girlfriend and give him a Christmas to remember. It might just be the best thing he's ever done.

A/N: Based off this GIF right here from Closer (2004)

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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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.

The Christmas lights and ornaments that the owners strung up along the stage and the VIP booths seem to clash with the darkness that seems to shroud most clubs. Allowing the light from the stage to be the focus, and give the patrons some sense of privacy as they watch the lewd displays of skin as dancers twirl on the poles and create dance routines around surprisingly peppy Christmas music. Serving tray filled, you adjust your Santa hat and wink at the burly bartender before you set off to deliver the drinks. 

Working as a cocktail waitress at a strip club was good money, you can’t deny that. Although some of the patrons never seem to understand that you aren’t a dancer. That no matter how many bills they stuff in your costumes, you will not grind on their laps or take them back into the Champagne Room. You just serve the champagne. “Double vodka with peach schnapps and soda.” You drop a drink off with a smile before moving on to deposit three beers and two tequila shots off to a group of military men who are watching Kandy before making your way back to the last booth in your section. The high roller booth. “Bottle of Dom and one glass.” You check the order even though you know it by heart. “And a Four Horsemen eggnog.” You give the man at the table a smile as you try not to fangirl over the fact that you are serving Dieter Bravo.

You walk off and Dieter can’t help but admire your ass. He smirks, glancing back at Kandy Kane dressed in a red and white outfit, her tits on display, but she’s not his type. Dieter crosses his arms, glancing around the room at the creepy men leering and he realizes he isn’t any better than them, spending the day before Christmas Eve loitering in a strip club. His family is gone; either dead or doesn’t speak to him. His friends only want him when he has drugs or money and he doesn’t want to indulge their bullshit so here he is, alone and watching titties while sipping a fucking eggnog. When you come back, he smiles in thanks. “Can you come sit with me?” He asks.

You see the glassy edge to his eyes, his pupils look like some kind of anime character, nearly blown out to where you can’t tell he has brown eyes. He’s high off his ass, something you have plenty of experience with in your job. Dancers or customers, all looking to forget for a while and even if you don’t do it yourself, you try not to judge. “Sure.” It would be nice to take a minute off your heels and take a small break. You had just made the rounds so you can spare a moment. You flop down into the booth and hum. “What brings you out tonight?” You ask, not mentioning you know who he is.

Dieter shrugs, “I haven’t got any Christmas plans so here I am. Looking at titties and drinking champagne.” He chuckles humorlessly. He knows his plans are pathetic but it’s all he has unless he decides to drink himself stupid through the holiday. “Sorry. You don’t want to listen to my shit.” He reaches for the money he has bundled up and hands you a hundred bucks. “Merry Christmas.”

You bite your lip before you fold the bill up and tuck it into your pocket. “Thank you.” Sliding towards the edge of the booth, you send him a searching look. “Can I get you some food? The burgers are horrible but the fries and hot wings are good.”

Dieter shakes his head, “no thanks. I am vegan right now….according to my agent.” Dieter winks and hands you another hundred dollars. “Get me some chicken wings, sweetheart. No one needs to know.” He picks up the glass of champagne, looking forward to some wings.

“Absolutely.” You grin and send him a conspiratorial wink of your own before you turn around to hurry towards the kitchen. You know that you shouldn’t flirt, it always turns out badly here, but it’s Dieter Bravo. The worst you think could happen is that he turns out to be an asshole and an asshole wouldn’t just give you a quarter of your rent in ten minutes.

Dieter watches you walk off, hips swaying and for a moment he wonders what you’d be like dancing on the stage. When you return with his plate, he groans at the sight of the wings. He hadn’t been able to eat meat due to the press being on his ass and he has missed it. “So what are you doing for Christmas Day?” Dieter asks you, curious to hear your plans and long for his own.

You shrug slightly watching him pick up a wing and smell it. He groans and his eyes flutter before he takes a bite and it’s kind of fascinating to see how eager he is for a chicken wing. “The usual.” You glance around to make sure the boss isn’t signaling or no one else needs anything. As much as you feel Dieter needs entertainment, you do have to serve others. “Probably lay around in my pajamas watching Christmas movies on Hallmark and baking some cookies.” Just a small batch, but nothing sounded better. Maybe sleeping in a little.

"No family?" Dieter asks with intrigue. You look like the kind of girl who has a boyfriend at home, parents, a dog. The whole shebang. You shake your head, "they live across the country and I can't afford to go home this year." You admit and Dieter frowns, hating to hear that. "I'm sorry. I'm alone too. My Christmas Day usually consists of too much booze and watching shit TV." He snorts, sipping the champagne after setting a bony chicken wing down.

You tilt your head, confused as to why someone famous like Dieter would spend the holidays alone. “Why don’t you have some kind of party? Hang out with friends?” You ask, not knowing much about Hollywood and actors. “Surely you don’t have to be alone if you don’t want to be. You’re- you know, Dieter Bravo.”

Dieter scoffs, “because I’m sick of the insincerity. The lack of authenticity around the holidays is disgusting. I want - I want something real. I want to bake cookies and watch shitty movies. I want to just be with someone and it be real.” He admits, sighs as he wipes his hands and turns to look at you. “God, you’re fucking gorgeous.” He groans, staring at you. You are prettier than the dancers, sexier for sure and he is still high when he blurts out “what does your cunt taste like?”

You don’t let things that come out of men’s mouths shock you anymore. If you did, you would be walking around with the surprised Picakchu face all the time, so you just lean in and give him a faint smile. “Heaven.” You promise silkily, watching his eyes widen when more as they flick down to your covered crotch. Now comes the moment where Dieter Bravo offers you more of those hundred dollar bills to find out and he goes from decent to asshole in your book. Which will be sad because you loved Hunger Strike. 

Dieter swallows, knowing that you are what he has been looking for. “Come stay with me.” He demands and you shake your head. 

“I’m sorry. I don’t sleep with-” 

Dieter waves his hands, “no. I don’t want sex.” He shocks even himself with that statement, “I want to spend Christmas with you. I want to bake cookies. I want to watch movies. I want to decorate a tree. All the holiday shit. You come to my house. I want…I want you to pretend to be my spouse. No sex.” He promises, “just - I want to be normal. I want - I want to spend Christmas with you and I’ll pay you.”

It’s probably the most bizarre request you’ve ever had and that’s saying something considering one guy wanted to do a shot of Jack out of your asshole. You frown, hating that your immediate response is to ask how much but a girl has to pay her bills. “This isn’t some trick to get me to your house and pull some Armie Hammer shit, is it?” You ask suspiciously.

Dieter shakes his head, “fuck no. I like being tied up though.” He winks and you roll your eyes. “Seriously though, I don’t want sex. I just want company. It’s like…it’s like Pretty Woman. I just want a companion over the holidays and I like you. I’ll pay you…twenty thousand for two days. Until the day after Christmas.”

“Twe-twenty- thou-thousand?” You gasp out, eyes nearly popping out of your head as you try to imagine having that much money. “You want to pay me twenty thousand dollars to pretend to be your wife and do Christmas shit with you for two days? No sex? No funny stuff? I sleep alone?”

“You will have your own room. I just - I know it’s weird but I want you to pretend we are married and do traditional Christmas stuff with me. I, um, I have never really experienced it since my parents got divorced before I was three so I want to experience a real family Christmas. Just do the things most families do together.”

It’s crazy to consider it, you know it. Every bit of advice you give to dancers runs through your head; ‘don’t go home with that man’, ‘if it’s too good to be true, it is’. Still….twenty thousand dollars to bake cookies and watch movies sounds amazing. “Half upfront.” You demand, arching a brow in challenge.

Dieter grins, pleased you’ve agreed. “Deal.” He holds his hand out and you shake it, making him giggle with excitement. “I’ll have a car come pick you up in the morning. I’ll have my assistant get us everything we need for the holiday and I will have my assistant bring you the check for ten thousand in the morning. Unless you want me to transfer it now?” Dieter grabs the phone he hates carrying around.

“No, uh, in the morning is fine.” You bite your lip. “No, wait-  yeah, a transfer would be okay.” You don’t trust checks because he could stop payment or it be bad. You don’t think he would scam you, but twenty thousand is so much money to you.

Dieter nods, “you have your phone? We can do it now.” He is desperate to have a proper Christmas, one like the stupid movies he watches and cries at when he’s alone. He watches you grab your phone from your apron and he smiles when you pull up your banking info. “Type it in sweetheart.” He hands You his phone for you to copy the information. For some reason, he trusts you. He’s in a strip club two days before Christmas but he just trusts you implicitly.

Dieter presses the transfer button, sending ten thousand to your account. It’s worth it. Every penny will be worth it if he can experience a picturesque Christmas. “Give me your address and my assistant will come and pick you up tomorrow.” He says, handing you back his phone so you can put your number in it.

Your eyes widen when you check your own phone and see an extra ten thousand in your account. “Uh, sure.” You bite your lip and open up your contact card to give him your full name, phone number and address. “Just, uh, if you change your mind about this, let me know and I’ll transfer the money back.” You promise, not believing that it would be right to keep it if he woke up tomorrow and realized he had made a mistake.

Dieter shakes his head, “I won’t.” He pulls another couple of hundred dollar bills and hands one to you, “for the wings. See you tomorrow, wifey, for our Hallmark Christmas.” He winks and stands, walking over to the stage to toss the other bill to Kandy Kane before he sways slightly as he walks out of the club, still high as a kite but he’s already dialing his assistant to get everything ready for you.

****

Normally you sleep until noon in the afternoon when you work because of the hours - not closing until three or four and then getting home. This morning, however, you were wide awake at 9, showering and trying to decide what to pack for two days at Dieter’s house. Where does he live? You don’t have a clue, but it has to be better than the cramped apartment you share with your roommate in a rundown area. It could be worse, but it could also be a lot better but it’s what you can afford while you work your ass off to better yourself. Deciding to have a few things to change into, you put on leggings and your most festive Christmas sweaters. Wondering if this is really happening as you nervously watch the clock.

Dieter is brushing his hair, almost treating this like a role as he styles his usually messy hair into a gelled back comb. His sweater is expensive and rarely worn except for press events but it helps him get into character and he smiles, excited to spend Christmas with someone. He had a tree delivered this morning and his assistant laid out the decorations for you and him to decorate the tree. There’s ingredients for dinners and hot chocolate and cookies. The kitchen is almost overflowing and Nat King Cole’s smooth voice is already flowing through the house.

A driver…a fucking driver comes to pick you up from your apartment. Dressed in a suit and driving the cleanest SUV you’ve ever seen in your life. On the backseat, there is a package for you, presumably from his assistant and you open it up to find an NDA ready to be signed and a list of activities and foods that they have prepared. “Jesus, money really does buy what you want.” You mutter as you sign the papers and stuff them back inside. You don’t care about not being able to talk about this with anyone, who would believe you? You look out the window and feel like a tourist as the driver takes you to the Sherman Oaks area.

Dieter struggles to contain himself when he gets the text that you are on your way. His assistant had you send a photo of the NDA and so Dieter is confident that he can make this an amazing time...you are going to give him what he wants: a proper holiday. He paces, shoving his hands in his pants as he waits for you to arrive at his home.

You are nervous when you stop in front of a gorgeous house. It’s large, a little bit more traditional than you were expecting, but it screams that this person has money. Lord knows you would never live somewhere like this. You wait until the driver opens the door and slide out, shouldering your purse and biting your lip as you try to gather your nerves. He just wants a Christmas experience and you had decided to shove a small present and some wrapping paper in your bag, something ridiculous, but what do you buy a movie star who wants you to act like his wife for Christmas? “Here we go.” You mutter to yourself, the driver getting your bag as you walk up the path to the front door.

When the doorbell rings, Dieter brushes his hair back and rushes to open the door. Grinning when he sees you, he steps ahead to let you in. "Come in. Come in." He gestures with his hands too, excitement making him like an over eager puppy. He has the music playing and he is ready to get the holiday season started.

You don’t exactly know what you were expecting, but you weren’t expecting Dieter to look so….put together. He looks like he’s attending a Christmas movie premier, and his eyes are bright and excited. “Hi.” You step into the house and look around, not surprised that it’s clean since you’re sure he has a maid or housekeeper or something. “Hope you weren’t waiting too long.” You offer.

Dieter shakes his head, admiring you. You look just as beautiful as you did last night except you're wearing leggings and a Christmas sweater so it's his fucking dream come true. He smiles, watching you for a moment. "Not at all. Come in. I'll show you to your room." He says, reaching out to take your bags from the driver before the driver shuts the door and leaves you alone with the actor.

“This house is gorgeous.” You gush, looking around at the obvious designer decor. It looks very un-lived in, but maybe he liked it that way. “It’s going to look amazing after we decorate it for Christmas.”

Dieter grins, "absolutely! I have so much I want to do. I want to have eggnog and make hot chocolate. I want to bake sugar cookies and decorate them and I want to decorate the tree and watch movies and - shit. We need to get started." He rushes out, carrying your bags and he sets your bags down in the beautiful guest room.

You can’t help but laugh at the enthusiasm, it is a far cry from most men at the holidays. You hum, delighted at the bedroom and you know you won’t have any problem staying here for two days. “So, how about we turn on a Christmas movie while we get started on the cookies and we can decorate the tree while they are baking?” You suggest. “While drinking hot chocolate. We’ll save the eggnog for when we are snuggled in watching movies tonight.” You send him a small wink. “Boozy eggnog is my favorite.”

Dieter groans at the thought. God, this was his best idea ever. “I love that. Let’s do it!” He’s practically bouncing as he watches you open your bag. “Come on baby. We haven’t got all day. Let’s get started!” He whines a little, wanting you to hurry up so the festivities can begin.

His giddiness is almost infectious and you put down your toiletry case. “Okay.” You kick off your shoes and grin at him. “Let’s go make sure we’ve got everything we need.”

Dieter practically giggles as he takes your hand and guides you through the house to the kitchen, proudly displaying everything his assistant had purchased for your Christmas spectacular. “Sugar cookies.” Dieter says as he walks over to the section labeled “cookie making.” His assistant laid everything out for what he declared he wanted to do.

“Wow.” You whistle under your breath and look over all the ingredients happily. “Do you want to have some hot chocolate while we mix up cookie dough or do you want to save that for decorating the tree?” The open concept kitchen and living area was perfect for seeing the large 85 inch TV and the 12 foot Christmas tree from the island.

Dieter shakes his head, "let's have it later." He reaches out to touch your arm, "thank you for coming here sweetheart. I- I haven't ever experienced a proper Christmas. My parents...they got divorced when I was a kid but they - they were always arguing during the holidays." He rolls his eyes and walks over to the oven, biting his lip. "Um, do you know how this works?"

It’s sad that he’s not had a proper Christmas, that the people who had made him couldn’t put aside their differences to give their child good memories. “I do.” You are intrigued by the idea that he doesn't know how to use his own stove. “I typed up my favorite recipes on my phone.” You announce, swiping it open and grinning. “We need to preheat the oven to 375.”

Dieter bites his lip, “could you- I don’t know how to use this. I don’t really, um, I don’t really cook. Ever.” He admits with flushed cheeks, feeling a little useless. He should know this basic shit but his parents never taught him.

“No worries!” You wave away his embarrassment as if it’s nothing. “One apartment I lived in only had two burners that worked and the oven only heated up to a certain temp.” You tell him as you walk over and examine the knobs. “Every one of them is different.” You press the button and turn the temperature knob, smirking when the LED screen for the oven lights up. “Perfect!”

Dieter smiles, watching you, and he is glad you are here. He made a good choice with you. You’re patient and kind already. Perfect for Christmas. He watches you set the oven and he bites his lip, wondering what to do next. “I haven’t made cookies either.” He confesses feeling so stupid.

“Best part about cookies is eating the dough.” You promise him before grabbing the very Christmasy aprons his assistant has bought. “Okay, cover that very sexy sweater so we don’t get flour on it and we are going to make the perfect sugar cookies for tonight!” The Christmas music is playing through the subtle spears in the house and you just feel good right now. Wanting to make this special for him.

He can’t help but smirk at you, “you think this sweater is sexy?” You playfully roll your eyes, making him chuckle, and he winks at you while he ties the apron around his waist. You quickly get to work, showing him what to measure for the ingredients and soon enough, he’s using the cookie cutter for the dough. “I’m doing it.” He says more to himself, a wide grin on his face as he admires the Christmas tree shaped cookie.

“Here, try some.” You pinch a small ball of dough in your fingers and offer it to him. You had expected him to take from you with his hand, but Dieter leans down and eats the cookie dough from your fingers, his tongue brushing over your skin and making you giggle slightly.

He groans as the sweetness hits his tongue and he swallows the bite. “Shit that’s good stuff. Almost like crack…and I should know.” He teases, winking at you and he continues cutting out the cookies. “So…are you from L.A?” He asks, wanting to know more about you.

You want to give him a few details, but you also want to keep this magical for him. Looking over his shoulder, you supervise his cookie cutting and hum. “Oh you know, same old story as everyone else. The glamor of L.A. was exciting and then I realized it’s not that great.” You shrug slightly, moving over to a saucepan to start measuring out ingredients for some hot chocolate to cook while the cookies are baking. “But my favorite story is how we met.” You tell him, sending him back a playful wink when he looks at you confused. “Who knew my runaway dog from my dog walking job would lead to being married to Dieter Bravo.”

Dieter grins when he picks up your storyline, and he walks over to you, placing his floured hands on your hips. “Is this okay?” He asks and you nod. “I thought you were the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. Flustered with those dogs but still so gorgeous.” He smiles at you.

“Please.” You roll your eyes and stir the simmering chocolate on the stove. “I was a mess and the hottest guy who I’ve ever seen catches the little terror and is calmly feeding him the beef jerky he was eating.”

Dieter smirks, “beef jerky? I’m supposed to be vegan. Polls well among my fans. Weed and vegetables. No jerky.” He teases, internally puffing his chest at you calling him the hottest guy you’ve ever seen but he knows you are just playing along. “Then we went for coffee and we just hit it off. Who knew you’d have been my future wife?”

“Well since you are vegan, I guess I better change my plans from the beef wellington I was planning to make for Christmas dinner.” You tease, watching his eyes widen slightly. “Maybe some mushroom steaks instead? Hubby?” You wink again, enjoying the sense of teasing and playfulness, something you think he doesn’t do with a lot of people. 

Dieter shakes his head, eyes horrified. “Absolutely not. You have to make it. No one will know.” He pleads, voice taking on a whining quality as his grip on your hips tightens slightly. “Please baby. Can you please make beef wellington?”

You smirk and lean back against him. “Of course, honey.” You purr. “We are going to have a perfect Christmas dinner followed up by way too many cookies for dessert.” The timer you set goes off and you hum. “First batch needs to come out to cool before we decorate them.”

Dieter grins with excitement, letting go of you so you can take the cookies out of the oven. He leans over, admiring his handiwork and he beams, excited that he actually makes something edible. He makes some more cookies with the cutters, glancing at you constantly, and he is reminded once more of what a good idea this was of his. To have you in his home, indulging in his fantasy of a perfect Christmas.

Once more cookies are in the oven and the hot chocolate is poured up into large mugs, you motion towards the large Christmas tree that is standing bare next to a gorgeous picture window that spans from floor to ceiling and gives immaculate views of the city. “Do you want to start putting the lights and ornaments on the tree?” You ask, noticing that everything looks brand new, like it was just purchased. 

“Yeah.” Dieter shuffles slightly, embarrassed. “My assistant went and got all this today, I didn’t have any decorations.” He admits. 

“That’s okay.” You don’t want to judge him, not when he’s so happy about all of this. “They look like they will be gorgeous and you can always pick out a few more to add every year. You know, make it a tradition.”

Dieter is buzzing as you start to put lights around the tree, helping you and when you’re on the ladder to finish the top part, he can’t help but admire your ass. You are gorgeous, he can’t help noticing that, but the way you are making him feel is engineered by the holiday spirit. It’s not real, even if he’s desperately pretending it is.

“All that is left is the star.” You announce, looking back down at him and choosing to ignore the way that he was staring at your ass. “Honey, you would do the honors and put it on?” You ask, holding it out to him as you climb back down. “I think it should be you to do it.”

Dieter flusters but agrees, smiling at you as he replaces you on the ladder and proudly places the star on top of the tree. Pride of place and looking so beautiful. The tree looks like something from a fairy tale and Dieter cannot be happier. He steps off of the ladder and wraps his arm around your waist, “thank you.” He leans in to kiss your cheek before he looks back at the tree to admire it.

“It looks amazing.” You grab your phone and take a quick selfie with Dieter in front of the tree. It won’t be something you show to anyone but you deserve a memento of your hard work and beautiful decorating together. “The cookies should be ready to decorate if you want to do that.” You offer, knowing he wants to pack as much Christmas spirit as he can into the two days.

Dieter nods, so grateful that you are going along with this like you actually are his wife. He smiles, “that sounds amazing baby.” He doesn’t even think about not calling you baby but he likes the way it sounds when he talks to you. He smiles, playfully rubbing your back as he guides you into the kitchen and admires the Christmas tree from its place across the room.

The last batch of cookies come out of the oven to cook while you arrange all the decorative frostings and sprinkles. “So I have a friend who makes those really fancy cookies, and she made ones that look like gray sweatpants, complete with a package impression.” You give a dirty little laugh as you outline the star cookie you’re decorating in red frosting. “Love those damn cookies.”

Dieter raises his eyebrow, surprised at you but he equally loves that you’re a little dirty. He smirks, watching you, and he snorts when you wink at him. “They taste good?” He asks, picking up the white icing and he growls in frustration when he fucks it up immediately.

“Honey, don’t worry.” You reach over and pick up a toothpick to smooth out the mistake. “See? Anything you don’t like, over it in sprinkles or the colored sugar. Imperfect cookies are the best tasting ones.”

Dieter hates that it isn’t perfect but he lets it go, swallowing harshly as he starts to put sprinkles on the cookie. You calling him honey has his stomach twisting and he bites his lip, trying to concentrate on the next cookie he is decorating.

“This is a lot of fun.” You admit, giving him a smile as the decorated cookies pile up. “I love making cookies. Always dreamed of being like those movies where you exchange cookies with your neighbors every holiday.”

Dieter grins, “I wish it was like that but L.A isn’t exactly a picturesque holiday scene. It’s too hot, and palm trees don’t really scream Christmas. Plus…my neighbors are assholes.” He snorts, shaking his head as you both finish up the last of the cookies. He’s gotten better at decorating.

You wonder how much the neighbors are really assholes and how much of it is just being done with Dieter’s antics, imagining him to be a handful as a neighbor. Instead of asking, you just send him a warm grin. “Well that just means more cookies for us.”

Dieter grins, “I like the way you think, baby.” He finishes up the last cookie with flare, sprinkling the edible glitter over it with a flourish. “They look delicious. Can we - do you want to watch a movie and have a few cookies?” He asks, not even thinking about the mess in the kitchen.

“We have to.” You whirl around the open the fridge and pull out some milk. “Why don’t we turn on the Hallmark channel? They always have great, cheerful, romantic movies. Or we can find some classics?”

Dieter bites his lip, “my favorite movie is It’s a Wonderful Life. Can we watch that?” He asks, knowing it’s a classic but it’s not exactly cheery like Elf. That’s probably why he likes it. A bit of misery mixed with the joy makes it more relatable.

You immediately melt, giving a sappy sigh. “I love It’s a Wonderful Life.” You admit breathlessly. “For me, it’s a must watch every single year.” You start poking around in his cabinets to look for glasses and luck upon them when you open the first door. “Why don’t you go turn it on and I’ll bring in the milk?���

He beams, so excited that you want to watch the movie he so dearly loves and has watched since he was a kid. He kisses your cheek before he rushes into the living room, grabbing the remote to turn on his ridiculously big TV. He works fast to find the movie in his library and puts it on, the music starting just as you sit down with the tray of cookies and milk.

“I love Jimmy Stewart movies.” You reach over to hand Dieter a tall glass of milk. “I remember watching Mr. Smith Goes to Washington in school when I was younger and it made me want to make movies back then.” You chuckle at your younger wide eyed dreams and lean back against his expensive couch with one of the obviously new Christmas blankets to pull over your lap. “What made you want to act, honey?”

Dieter bites his lip, “I, uh, I didn’t really want to be an actor. My mom…she decided to take me for a kids casting call for a commercial when I was four and I’ve been in the business ever since. Got cast in a movie when I was ten and I’ve had roles ever since. During the lockdown, I was crawling out of my skin so I took Cliff Beasts 6 to get out of my house. Acting is all I’ve ever known.”

You feel horrible for him, wondering if he would have chosen something else if he had the opportunity to. “Well, you’re an amazing actor.” You promise him, reaching over and laying your hand on his leg. “Hunger Strike is great, but my favorite one was the little Indy movie you did a couple of years ago, Horizon? It just- I loved it. You should have won another Oscar.”

Dieter grins, reaching for your hand. “I loved that movie so much. As soon as I read the script, I knew I had to be in it. My agent didn’t think it was high profile enough but I didn’t care. It was a passion project.” He confesses, blushing a little since you have watched his movies.

“You should do more of them.” You insist, squeezing his hand. “Doesn’t matter if they are high profile or not, your fans will love it and who knows? You can shine a spotlight on some small, just getting started directors, give them a boost up.”

Dieter nods, “I have a few scripts that I’ve been sent that I need to read from new writers and new directors. Do you, uh, do you have a dream? Other than working at the club?” He asks, keeping his hand in yours.

“Honestly?” You give a small shrug. “I would love to write.” You admit, almost bashfully. You’ve never told many people about it and you hope he’s not the type to think it’s stupid. “Books.”

Dieter’s eyes widen, “you write? What do you write about? Do you have any excerpts? I fucking love reading. Wish I had more time for it honestly. Tell me more.” He demands, eyes wide and eager.

The movie plays in the background but neither one of you is paying attention. You squirm slightly and give a small, embarrassed shrug. “I’m sure that it’s not something you want to read.” You say breezily, sure that he will roll his eyes. “I write- I like writing romance, but like- science fiction romance?”

Dieter snorts and you instantly deflate but he shakes his head. “Baby girl, I read fucking Twilight. I love romance. I love sci-fi. Tell me what your idea is.”

It makes you feel a little better but you still chew on your lip. “I want to write a series where the main character is a hunter, her family was destroyed by vampires when she was little and so it’s her mission to kill them. She gets bitten by a werewolf along the way.” You grin. “I also want to add the element of soulmates so it ends up that the latest vampire she is chasing would have been hers as a human and he hates werewolves.”

Dieter contemplates your idea for a few moments, making you squirm, until he grins. “That sounds fucking incredible!” He says in awe of your imagination. “Have you started writing this?”

“A little.” You huff. “It's hard to write with the schedule I work, or I’m just emotionally worn out by the way I’m constantly fending off sleazeballs at the club.” You snort. “They don’t seem to understand that I serve drinks, not handjobs.”

Shaking his head, Dieter squeezes your hand. “Assholes. Respect and consent are fucking important and necessary. If I go to a club, I always make sure I ask if I can touch. Not that I- I don’t want a happy ending.” He flusters, “I can get laid in a heartbeat without paying but I- I want something that actually means something.”

“Of course you can.” You don’t doubt that. He’s Dieter Bravo. “You’re hot, first and foremost, but you’re also famous.” Being hot is more important to you, it doesn’t matter that he’s famous, or rich.

Dieter shakes his head, "see? I don't want someone to want me simply because I'm Dieter Bravo. I want someone to want me because they want me. Who I truly am. The real Dieter but...I don't even know if I know who I truly am anymore." He confesses, biting his lip.

You snort, shaking your head. “I wasn’t saying that being famous is the most important part. You’re genuinely hot.” You huff at him. “You don’t realize that? I’m sure that someone who isn’t vapid would soak up the real you. Come on, you obviously want love and happiness. Maybe you would even do less drugs.”

Dieter chuckles, “I wish. It’s a fucking expensive addiction to have. Do you - are you - do you take any drugs?” He swears he can’t speak around you. You get him tongue tied because you’re so goddamn beautiful, especially sitting there wearing the Christmas sweater and that sparkle in your eye. He won’t push for more, that’s not what this is about and he didn’t pay money for sex, he wants the fantasy of Christmas he’s always longed for.

“No, I’ve been lucky. Been offered them plenty of times but beyond smoking some weed every now and again, I don’t do anything.” You know Dieter has, you watched him OD on camera during the behind the scenes thing for Cliff Beasts. “Most I do is drink.”

Dieter nods, “I can respect that. Drugs…it numbs the loneliness. I guess I thought by now I’d have a wife and my own family to look after, enjoy the holidays with. I haven’t been so lucky.” He sighs, keeping your hand in his. “Anyway, let’s rewind the movie and watch it.” He says, reaching for the remote to deflect off of him.

You let the conversation die, not wanting him to be mired in misery. Your job here is to make him feel like he’s having a proper Christmas. “Let’s turn on your fireplace.” You suggest, knowing that it’s not cold enough, but it would be a pretty aesthetic. “Turn off the lights and have the tree lit up. I know it’s still light outside but it’s the atmosphere that makes it, right?”

Dieter nods, almost making himself dizzy and he grabs the remote for the fireplace. “It’s fake.” He chuckles, making you snort, and he turns the fireplace on while you turn on the Christmas tree. It’s picture perfect and when you settle on the sofa, he restarts the movie. He smiles at you and shifts to lay down, resting his head in your lap.

You melt a little at how desperate Dieter is for affection. Your fingers tangle into his hair and you play with it while you watch the movie. You hum as Jimmy’s character talks about Mary wanting the moon and how he will get it for her. It’s something that you want, but you don’t think anyone will ever be that for you. To care about what you want and try to make you happy. You want a mutual relationship, where someone cares for you as much as you care for them.

Dieter groans as your fingers card through his hair. It’s intoxicating and he almost closes his eyes as he struggles to concentrate on the movie. It’s been so long since someone touched him like this. He nuzzles his cheek into your thigh, just breathing you in as the faux fire crackles and the Christmas lights twinkle. This is what he’s yearned for. “That feels so good, baby.” He hums, keeping his eyes on the screen.

“Just relax and enjoy it.” You murmur softly. It’s nothing for you to play with his hair and you have him almost purring. It’s fun, curling your finger around the small curls and every now and again you scratch his scalp, knowing how much you would love it.

Dieter can’t help but twitch in his pants at the feel of you scratching his scalp. He fucking loves it. With a groan, he tries to discreetly reach down and adjust himself, watching the movie and you from the corner of his eye to see if you notice.

You smirk to yourself when you see him adjust himself, continuing to scratch his head. You just pretend like you don’t know what it's doing to him. So he’s getting turned on by having his head scratched? You’ve been turned on by things that catch you off guard. “Does that feel good, honey?” You ask softly, looking back at the tv.

Dieter is flustered by what you’re doing to him. He never usually gets hard from this kind of thing. He’s had men and women expose every part of themselves and he’s twitched but not gotten hard. This intimacy, the atmosphere has him hard and aching for you but that’s not what he paid you for. He doesn’t want to take advantage and ruin this. This is about the holiday, not sex. The movie is coming to an end and Dieter’s cock is still hard but he has tears in his eyes as he watches Jimmy on screen. So many emotions that he identifies with and yet so many he doesn’t truly understand despite acting them out.

“It always makes me cry.” You sniffle slightly, blinking back tears when you hear them singing at the end. “It’s just so- wonderful.” You laugh at yourself for being such a sap, and sigh, stroking Dieter’s hair one last time before you have to stop touching him.

Dieter sighs in both contentment and a little upset you’ve stopped running your fingers through his hair. “Can we watch something else? Maybe, um, maybe Love Actually? It’s another one of my favorites.” He confesses with a blush as he looks up at you.

You smile at the idea that this man who has so many wild antics in Hollywood has a secret affinity for Love Actually. “We can do that, although we should probably eat more than cookies right? What do you want to eat, honey?”

Dieter bites his lip, “my assistant gets my groceries so I don’t…I don’t really know what I have in the fridge.” He confesses, feeling stupid for not knowing. “But…I wouldn’t mind grilled cheese and tomato soup.” He tilts his head at you.

“That honestly sounds like a perfect meal.” You admit, your own stomach agreeing happily. “Why don’t you come with me and we can make it together?” You suggest. “It’ll be fun. We can use the cookie cutters and make Christmas grilled cheese sandwiches.”

Dieter practically cheers as he shuffles off of the sofa. “Hell yes. I love the way you think, baby!” He grins as he rushes to the kitchen to get started on the dinner with you. This is more than he could’ve ever wanted. You are indulging his every fantasy…well, most of them.

You love the idea that the dinner you are making isn’t something fancy or involved. Simple comfort food that always hits the spot and makes you feel cozy. There is canned soup in his pantry, which is amazingly large and you can just dream of having one day, and there are different cheeses and bread to make the perfect sandwiches. “I love your kitchen.” You gush as you get everything out. “Soooo much.”

Dieter grins, pleased that you like his home. “I didn’t design it. I just bought this home. It used to belong to Brad Pitt.” He snorts, “good thing it wasn’t in the divorce settlement. At least I haven’t been married.” He shrugs, a little upset by that fact but marriages in Hollywood are destined for failure. There are too many temptations and offers.

“What kind of wedding would you want?” You ask curiously as you open the cans and dump them into a pan to warm up the soup. He’s got everything you could want in a kitchen but he obviously doesn’t use it. If you had this kitchen you would cook every day. “Big, small? Lavish, courthouse?”

Dieter leans against the counter and watches you, “I would want a small wedding. Just me and my partner. I don’t have any family and my friends…they aren’t real. Just fake friends who want whatever I can give them.” He sighs, rubbing his cheek, “I’d want a beach wedding. Just me and my partner and no distractions or press.”

“That sounds really nice.” You smile at the thought, imagining Dieter in some white Hawaiian shirt and linen pants, barefoot and grinning happily. “I could see that. Something towards sunset, warm and intimate.” You imagine it for yourself for a moment before dismissing it as stupid. Dieter asked you to spend Christmas with him, not the rest of your life and you know that he could be fickle from what the magazines report. “I hope you get that.” 

Scratching his cheek, Dieter sighs. “I guess we will see. Doesn’t look like it’s on the cards for me but who knows? Maybe one day.” He offers you a weak smile and turns towards the bread. “Do you want me to do anything?”

“Do you want to butter the bread and decide how cheesy you want the sandwiches to be?” You ask as you open the cabinets to see about finding the spices. Canned soup is always better when you add spices. 

Dieter nods, excited to be doing something like this after so long of depending on others to just look after him. He’s hungry today. Probably because he hasn’t gotten high enough to tune out the hunger like he does on days when he’s feeling self conscious. “So what about your dating life? Anyone on your mind?” Dieter asks as he butters the bread.

You snort and shake your head. “Yeah, let me tell you, my dating options are fantastic.” You huff. “Anyone I tell where I work automatically assumes I’m a dancer or that I’m a prostitute.” You roll your eyes. “Or that I’m easy and want to be their doormat. So I just….don’t date.” 

Dieter shakes his head, “people can be fucking idiots. You are doing your job. You’re a cocktail waitress. You aren’t paid to take your clothes off and if you do, you discuss that with your partner and ensure you have proper communication. I have been naked for movie scenes and I’ve talked to my partner about it beforehand to make sure they understand it’s just acting. Also, it’s insane you don’t date. No matter what you do for work, you’re fucking gorgeous and anyone with eyes would be dumb to let your job be a deal breaker.”

“Men can be very weird about things like that.” You give a small shrug and bite back the comment that you are well aware of his nude scenes. It’s always been one of those things that you thought ridiculous where you see everything on a woman and you only see the man’s ass on tv. Although Dieter does have a nice, albeit tiny, ass. “But thank you. I’ve also been told I have high standards for wanting a man to not cheat on me. Apparently being okay with looking but not touching isn’t enough.”

Dieter snorts, “I’m all for free love. If my partner is happy with it. I’ve had threesomes, foursomes, orgies. But never, ever, without the implicit consent of my partner. Most of those times I’ve been single though. Cheating is just fucked up. Just don’t be with someone if you’re gonna cheat on them.” He rolls his eyes, “that’s just wrong. I don’t agree with that shit. When you’re with someone, you’re with them. If not, just break up. Don’t cheat. It’s cruel.” He shakes his head.

You are so surprised at his view on things, although you really appreciate it. “Thank you!” You point the spoon at him. “Exactly. Just be single. Don’t fucking try to justify it by ‘oh I know you’re sleeping with dudes at work’ or ‘well you don’t give me seven blowjobs a week’. Just admit you aren’t made for a monogamous relationship and find something that works for you. Don’t be shitty and lie.”

Dieter nods, “precisely. Just be honest about what you want instead of selling the house and 2.5 kids then go and stick your dick in everything with a pulse. If you wanna do that, find a partner who can accept that. Me…I’ve kinda had my fill of orgies.” He admits seriously, “I’m tired of emotionless sex.”

“I’ve honestly never been into orgies.” You admit. “I’m selfish, I don’t want to share.” You’ve had your experiences and decided it wasn’t for you. “Besides, I’ve found most threesomes are about a guy wanting two girls but being insulted when you want another guy and pitching a fit.”

“Idiots.” Dieter rolls his eyes again, “you’ll find someone who will appreciate you and adore you without needing any of that extra shit.” He promises you, offering you a soft smile. “You’re a beautiful woman, inside and out, and you’ll find the right person.”

“Thank you.” It’s incredibly sweet of him to say that, and you give him a smile of gratitude. “You will find the same thing. Someone who just wants to take care of you and shower you in love and affection.”

Dieter’s heart thumps and he walks over to you at the stove, kissing your cheek. “Thank you, baby.” He knows this doesn’t exactly play into his fantasy but he likes talking to you about your realities. It gives him perspective and he is excited to spend Christmas with you.

Finishing dinner is relatively simple and soon you have another tray of food to bring out to the living room. “This is going to be a great holiday.” You murmur as the sun starts to set and the lights from the Christmas tree appear brighter.

Dieter beams as you tell him it’s going to be a wonderful holiday. He agrees and if so excited to be spending the holiday exactly as he’s always dreamed. He just wishes it was with his family, his children and you as his wife. It’s too easy to imagine when you sit down next to him.

The movie starts and you hand Dieter his bowl of soup and the star shaped grilled cheese slices. “So, when you have babies, how many do you want?” You ask him, really unable to see him with a baby. Maybe like that guy from The Hangover with the kid strapped to his chest.

Dieter dips the sandwich into the soup, chewing as he considers it. “I want at least three.” Your eyes widen and he shrugs, “I have enough money to care for twenty kids. I have the home for them, I have the staff. I just need a woman to have them.”

You snort, imagining him offering money to women to have babies with him. “Okay, Nick Canon, slow the baby gravy train down.” You joke before you take a bite of your own soup.

Dieter playfully rolls his eyes, “I said three. Not twelve. Besides, I don’t want multiple women. I want one. One that I- that I love. It’s just, it’s hard to find because I’m not easy to live with, easy to handle.”

“What are you talking about?” You huff and roll your eyes at his ridiculous comment. “You aren’t difficult to handle. Look at us. Last night you were asking how my cunt tastes and you are perfectly respectful and not acting like a jerk. You are thankful for what I’m doing for you and you are eager to be involved.”

He blushes at your kind words, knowing that he isn’t easy to handle, but you seem to be able to take him in your stride. Reminded of him asking you what your cunt tastes like has him blushing even more. “I, uh, I’m sorry about the, um, the cunt comment. Although I’m sure it does taste like heaven. I was high and I tend to just blurt things out.”

You laugh. “I thought it was funny, at least you were respectful about it, even then.” You don’t want him to beat himself up over it. “You seem like you are respectful of boundaries when they are pointed out. So, please don’t worry about it. At least I have an amazing story. Dieter Bravo asked how I taste.” You laugh again and wink at him playfully.

Dieter chuckles before he takes another bite of the grilled cheese. “You’d be the perfect wife though. You are gorgeous, kind, you can cook, you - any guy would be lucky to have you.” He tells you with a soft smile before he sips on his soup. He knows it’s just a fantasy but it’s too easy to see you in his life.

Your stomach flips and you manage a grin. “Well, when you find someone who wants me, let me know.” You joke, wishing that you didn’t feel vulnerable, like it was never going to happen for you. “Or I’ll just, you know, come spend Christmas with you until you find that perfect wife to give you three babies.”

Dieter grins, “I wouldn’t object to that. Maybe we could just spend the rest of our Christmases together.” He says without truly considering it, just imagining every Christmas like this but with kids running around. It’s a heavy thought but it doesn’t scare him. You seem to put him at ease. “So, um, do you have any plans to have kids in the future?”

“I want them.” You admit, with a small shrug. “But I have to find the guy and a better job. One where I wouldn’t be working at night or worrying about guys hitting on me more because I’m pregnant.” You roll your eyes, remembering how some of them went crazy for one of the dancers when she had been pregnant.

Dieter understands, knowing how guys can act around a pregnant woman. “You’d be a beautiful pregnant woman. I understand why you’d be hit on and I- I know why you’d want a different job.” He doesn’t judge you for your job but he knows why you’d want to change it if you were pregnant.” He wants to tell you he’d provide for you but he knows he can’t be that forward. He barely knows you. “Men can be creeps.” He scoffs, knowing how his sex can be.

“Besides….” You shake your head. “I’m never going to get what I really want.” You sigh. 

“What’s that?” Dieter asks and you bite your lip. “I’d love to be able to get to a point where I could be home with the baby, at least until they are in school. But I would need to become successful first to afford that.”

Dieter sets his now empty plate down and takes your hand in his. “So you become a writer…become successful…and then you’re able to stay at home and look after a baby. Well, shit. We can make that happen. I’m sure my agent has contacts. Do you have any pages written for your idea?”

You’re surprised that he wants to help you out, but you nod, knowing you’ve got at least three chapters down. “I can send you the document if you want to read it.”

“Hell yes. Please baby. Send it to me. I want to read it. See how good you are and maybe I can have my agent send some pages to a publisher so we can get you someone early.” Dieter nods and looks eager to help. 

You blink, surprised that he would be willing to use his connections to help someone else. You don’t know how many articles call Dieter selfish and spoiled, maybe catered to was more accurate, but this was kinder than anyone else has ever been about your writing before. “Thank you.” You gush out, leaning over and kissing his cheek softly.

Dieter’s heart thumps as you kiss his cheek and he flusters, shaking his head. “It’s nothing. It’s, uh, the least I can do. Everyone deserves a chance in this hell hole of a town. Everyone deserves a shot at their dreams.” He declares and then looks back at the movie, “oh this is my favorite part.” He points at the screen as Hugh Grant dances around on the screen.

You look back at the movie and giggle at him gyrating his hips on camera. “He’s a better dancer than you are.” You tease, having seen him dance on the behind the scenes they had put out on the disastrous Cliff Beasts saga.

“Hey!” Dieter pouts at you, “don’t be mean.” He winks at you after a moment, “to be fair, I was high for 99% of that movie and was high when I was dancing so I didn’t really get a chance to be a good dancer.” He chuckles, nudging you gently.

“Oh really?” You grin and put your plate down. Leaping to your feet, you grab his hand. “So come on, show me.” You demand, pausing the movie. “Turn on some music and dance with me. Show me those moves.”

"Oh shit." Dieter grins and shakes his head as he lets you drag him up. He bites his lip, making his way over to the stereo system he owns, complete with huge speakers and a turntable. He's never been a streaming music kind of guy. He loves the feel of vinyl, the sound, it reminds him of his childhood. He picks up a Christmas album while you pause the movie and he grins as the song starts to play through the speakers, reaching for your hand.

Dieter pulls you towards him and you try to ignore the way that your heart races. This isn’t real and he shouldn’t be making you imagine this is everyday, dancing together in the home you share together. “Your assistant bought this today, didn’t she?” You ask with a grin as the words to Jingle Bell Rock pours out of the speakers and both of you start to move to the beat.

Dieter shakes his head, “no. I’ve had my vinyls since I was a kid. I collect them. Nothing like music. I fucking love it, especially on vinyl. Streaming just isn’t the same sound.” Dieter spins you around and he pulls you back into his chest, his hands gripping your waist.

Your grin turns into a delighted laugh and you love how naturally the two of you seem to move together. “What does your collection look like?” You ask, not seeing a bookshelf of vinyls in his living room.

“It’s too big to fit in this room.” He confesses with a blush, “I keep some records out here but switch them out. My main collection is in the movie room.” He has always had a love of movies so naturally, he needed to have a movie room to watch them as well as his living room. “Maybe we can watch something in there later. I wouldn’t mind watching more movies.” He sways you as the music continues.

“That sounds good.” You don’t mind watching movies with him or just going through his records. But he is paying you for the experience that he wants. “Whatever you want to do.” You promise. “Although we do need to maybe go see some Christmas lights?”

Dieter nods, “yes! Let’s take a drive around the neighborhoods to see the lights, we can take some hot chocolate to go and just watch the world pass by.” He sighs, almost romantically, and pulls you close once more.

“That sounds perfect.” You want to tell him that he should decorate his own house, but you don’t. Imagining putting up decorations on the outside of the house as well. It’s not like this is going to last beyond the day after Christmas. You lean in and lay your head on his shoulder as he leads you through the song.

The song comes to an end and Dieter leans back to kiss your cheek. “Thank you for being here baby.” He says even though he knows he’s paying for you to be here. He just indulges in the fact that you are here for him because you want to be. The next song plays but Dieter doesn’t rush to pull back, content to just hold you. It’s been so long since he had this kind of intimacy without expectations.

Somehow, the two of you dance until the record ends, making you whine softly when you have to pull away from Dieter. He was actually a good dancer and warm and comforting. It felt good in his arms. “Should we get ready to go look at Christmas lights?” You offer quietly.

Dieter nods, knowing he can’t exactly wear a sweater and coat in L.A December weather but he’s excited to head out and see the lights in his shorts. “Come on baby!” He calls you from the garage while you get the flask of hot chocolate and marshmallows. He is practically buzzing as you turn on Christmas music for you to cruise through the neighborhood, enjoying the spectacular lights his rich neighbors no doubt paid someone to put up.

“Wow.” Dieter pulls the car to a stop and you both let down the windows to hear the music that is synchronized with the lights for a dazzling show. “I would love to do something like that.” You murmur to yourself, in awe of the time, effort and money it took to do something like that just for the hell of it. “I bet the sound and lights guys for movies have the best setups.” You joke.

Dieter chuckles, “I know a few that live around here. Let’s go see.” He pulls away from the curb, heading towards the guy who did the sound for the Jurassic World movies that lives in the neighborhood. “If his yard isn’t Christmas dinosaur themed, he’s doing it wrong.” Dieter says after he explains who the guy is.

“Ohhhh, I saw a triceratops inflatable for Christmas at the store!” You laugh. “I can imagine doing that or Star Wars themed for kids when I have them. Mickey and Santa are overdone. Find a niche.”

Dieter chuckles, “maybe that Mandalorian dude. People thought I was playing him until he took the helmet off. He looks nothing like me.” He snorts, turning into the street and already the house is impressively decorated.

You snicker and sneak a glance over at him. “Maybe a little.” You tease. “Looks like you two have a similar nose. But your lips are different.” You may or may not have spent a little bit of him staring at his lips during his movies. They are so cute and you love the little crease on his bottom lip.

Dieter smirks, not missing a beat. “You've been looking at my lips, wifey?” He teases, winking at you. You fluster and he loves it. He loves how he seems to affect you.

“You know you’re attractive.” You huff, slightly embarrassed, even though you know you shouldn’t be. Dieter seems to soak up this kind of attention so you don’t mind it too much. “You are on the Sexist People list nearly every year. Although you should have won over Chris Evans.” You snort and bite your own lip.

Dieter wrinkles his nose, “people only see the photo shoots with makeup and hair and stylists. They don’t see trash panda Bravo, which is who I am most days. I don’t tend to bother shaving or dressing in anything other than comfy clothes. If it is any consolation, you’re fucking hot. I haven’t been able to stop looking at your lips either baby. Fucking kissable but I - I didn’t pay you to be my - to be here for that. I paid you to be company and that was our agreement.

That statement should not be that hot to you. It shouldn’t make you want to unbuckle your seatbelt and crush your lips to his. But it does. For all the bullshit antics Dieter Bravo may pull, he genuinely believes in consent and that’s fucking sexy. You had seen the clips where he was asking anyone and everyone to sleep with him during the Cliff Beasts production, and being totally chill when they turned him down. The spoiled actor ego doesn’t extend to the bedroom and that was something that should be appreciated. You cover his hand on the gear knob with your own. “I thought you were hot in a sloppy way when you came in last night.” You promise him with a smirk. “And of course your lips are fucking kissable. You make me want to plant some of my chapstick on your lips.”

Dieter’s eyes widen in a comical way at your words and it soon turns into an undeniably sexy smirk. “Baby…can I fucking kiss you?” He asks, almost whining as he leans a little closer over the console when he’s stopped outside of the home that has a myriad of dinosaur inflatables - including some moving dinosaurs like the damn movie. It’s impressive but Dieter is more interested in you.

Your breath catches when he asks, the flood of arousal undeniable at the way Dieter Bravo is looking at you like he wants to make you Christmas dinner. Your eyes flicker down to his lips and you nod. “Yes.” You are breathless when you give him permission and nervous.

Dieter licks his lips, setting them, before he leans in to softly press his lips to yours. He groans at the first taste of that chapstick you mentioned and he reaches up to cup the back of your head, deepening the kiss. His tongue dips into your mouth and he groans when you open eagerly, allowing him to explore your mouth.

No fucking wonder he could get away with basically having two women on a red carpet event. There’s a small whimper in the back of your throat as your hand comes to curl around the back of his neck, pulling him closer while his tongue slides against yours and his own moan is breathed into your mouth like he is just as affected.

Dieter is in no rush to end this kiss, happily molding his lips to yours while his tongue slides against your teeth before tangling with yours. He caresses your neck while he kisses you until he pulls back after a moment to look at you in surprise. His heart is pounding and he hasn’t been this turned on in a long time. You’ve not even done anything but kiss but it has his heart racing.

You blink for a moment, quiet as you try to comprehend what the hell just happens at your phone dings, making you jump and breaking the spell over the moment. You look down and your heart is pounding. “Oh, there’s a little Christmas thing nearby.” You tell Dieter. “Spiced cider and hot chocolate, hay rides through a Christmas light thing.”

“Yeah? You wanna go babe?” Dieter asks, reaching for your free hand and acting like what just happened wasn’t as big a deal as his heart is making it out to be. His heart is thumping in his chest but he doesn’t let that show as he asks you to give him directions to this Christmas thing.

The two of you are quiet until you pull up into the busy parking lot. Kids and parents everywhere and you grin to yourself as you get out of the car. “They even have a little snow area!” You exclaim, pointing out the area where they were making snow for the kids to play in. It was melting quickly but the kids didn’t care, making snow angels. “One year I want to be snowed into a cabin for  Christmas.” You sigh wistfully.

“Oooh, that sounds like a dream. Snow falling. Fire going. Maybe one day we could do that.” Dieter is eager, parking the car and he gets out and comes around to open your door, holding his hand out for you. “Come on, let’s go.”

There is traditional Christmas music geared towards kids playing and the entire atmosphere is one of magic and joy. Even a sigh to visit Santa Claus for a last minute sit on his lap. Your hand in his feels just right and you squeeze his hand. “What do you want to do first?” You ask. “Oh! They have roasted chestnuts! I’ve always wanted to try them!”

Dieter grins, guiding you towards the chestnuts. “Come on baby, let’s get you some nuts.” He winks, making you roll your eyes, and he chuckles when you end up giggling at his dumb joke. He buys you a bag of roasted chestnuts, “here you go wifey.”

You pop one of the roasted nuts into your mouth and moan in pleasure and surprise at the taste. “Honey, you have to try this.” Your fingers immediately dive into the bag to pluck another and hold it up to his lips. “Please hubby?” You bat your eyes at him playfully.

He smirks, taking the nut from your grip and he wraps his lips around your fingers as he takes the nut into his mouth. He closes his eyes and pulls back, chewing on the roasted chestnut and he hums at the taste. “That’s fucking delicious.” He says after he swallows, his hand finding your waist and he squeezes your hip.

You can’t help yourself, not when he looks so cute and thrilled to be right here with you. Leaning in, you press your lips to his in a kid-friendly kiss that still has your heart pounding in your chest as you rock back on your heels and grin at him. “I’m paying for the spiced cider.” You promise. “My portion of our Christmas date.”

Dieter’s heart thumps at the kiss you offer him and he shakes his head at your offer to pay for the cider. “No. No. I’m paying for it.” He insists, “especially if this is a date night.” He continues the ruse, honestly wanting to believe it, it would be easy to imagine you as his wife. “I’m not letting my wife pay for anything.” He shakes his head, leaning in to kiss your cheek.

You roll your eyes playfully and huff at his inability to let you pay. “Fine.” You pout and sigh dramatically. “I’ll let my husband spoil me.” You reach for his hand and lace your fingers with his. “Let’s get our cider and get in line for the hayride.”

It’s too easy to be with you like this but Dieter knows that it’s end come the day after Christmas. He’s going to enjoy every second of your company. After paying for the cider, you wait in line for the hayride and Dieter notices a woman talking to her husband, both of them staring at Dieter. He sighs, knowing they recognize him despite his genius disguise of a baseball cap and plain t-shirt. He just hopes no one gets photos…for your sake.

“It’s cool, isn’t it?” You lean around Dieter and speak to the woman. “Seeing him in public.” You grin and put your fingers up to your lips. “Don’t tell anyone, since he’s trying to be incognito, but I can take a quick pic of you with him if you want. As long as you don’t post it tonight. Let him enjoy the Christmas Eve festivities.” You look back at Dieter to see if he’s okay with that.

Dieter nods, smiling at your genius way of getting the woman to keep his presence a secret. He quickly saddles up beside her after she hands you her phone and he grins as you take the photo, winking at you as he steps back beside you and kisses your cheek, “thank you baby. You should be my new PR manager.” He teases, taking his drink back from you after the woman thanks him.

Preening slightly at the compliment, you take a sip of your cider. “People are in awe when they see famous people being just like them.” You give him a small shrug and shuffle closer to him, enjoying the coziness of the atmosphere. “Let them think they are the only ones that figured it out, and they don’t spill the beans.”

Dieter rubs your arm, “you’re right but now, let’s hope we don’t get any more fuss about me being here. I want us to have privacy without people swarming. I hate that shit.” He leans in to press a kiss to your neck. He is grateful you agreed to spend this time with him. When you are called to get on the hayride, Dieter tosses your finished cider cups away and helps you up, his hand close to your ass.

The two of you are huddled together on the ride, not because the temperature calls for it, but the moment does. Leaning into him and holding his hand is natural, and you tuck your face against his neck with your other arm around his back. “Are you enjoying yourself, honey?” You whisper, wanting to make sure he’s not suddenly feeling anxious about being out with you. You’re a nobody and you can’t imagine that would be good for his reputation.

“I am. It’s perfect.” Dieter grins, cheeks almost hurting with how perfect today has been. You are worth every single penny he spent for your company. That reminds him that he paid for your company, you’re here for the money, not for him, and that makes him stiffen a little beside you.

When Dieter stiffens, you think there’s something that he doesn’t like so you rub his back more, looking around to see if you can spot anyone staring or taking pictures. You can’t even imagine how difficult it has to be sometimes. “Hey, when we go back to your house, do you want to change into pajamas and watch another movie?” You ask, wanting him to focus on something to look forward to. “Maybe make some popcorn and make out?” You take a risk and kiss his jaw, wanting to kiss him again.

Dieter hums, deep in thought about why you want to make out. Perhaps you pity him so much you think he’d want that. Or maybe you genuinely want to kiss him? He doesn’t know and he’s confused right now so he doesn’t say anything. Just waits until the ride is over to help you down and finally, he says “why do you want to make out with me?”

“Oh.” Your cheeks burn and you look away, mortified that you had read him wrong. “I- it was really nice kissing you. I’m sorry- I shouldn’t have- we don’t have to, I promise.” You rush out. “I’m not going to pout or throw myself at you.” You promise him, sure that he thinks if you like one of those fans who would tear his clothes off just to say they slept with Dieter Bravo.

Dieter notices how mortified you are and it hits him that you aren’t trying to please him, you want to kiss him. That makes his stomach twist and his heart thumping so hard he swears you can hear it. He surges forward to press his lips to yours, “it was really nice to kiss you too.” He murmurs as he pulls away from the quick peck.

Giggling in relief, you can’t help but grin. “I’m sorry, I know I must seem like an idiot, I just- you’re really nice and this has been a good day.” You huff, a little self conscious before you lean in and kiss him again.

Dieter pouts and shakes his head, cupping your cheeks, “not at all, baby. You have made this a perfect day. I want to go home, change into pajamas and make out.” He playfully nips your lower lip, “you ready to go?”

“Yes.” You’re a little breathless and beam at him, feeling your stomach flutter and you wonder why he seems to affect you so much. You’ve been hit on by men but he seems to just make you feel like a schoolgirl with a crush

Dieter is soon guiding you back to his car, eager to get home, and he opens the door to help you in before he rushes around to get in the car. “Let’s go home, baby.” He says as he pulls out of the parking lot, eager to get home and kiss you again.

The drive back to Dieter’s house is a lot quicker, both of you quiet as you watch the houses pass by. Biting your lip when you pull into the driveway, you look over at Dieter. “So I’ll change and meet you back downstairs?”

“Sounds like a plan, baby.” He grins, “go get changed.” He gets out of the car and quickly unlocks his house, eager to change into his own pajamas and settle on the sofa with you. He’s already half hard at the thought of kissing you, touching you.

You go back to the room that he had shown you to and change into your pajamas. You had packed some Christmas pajamas that would be perfect tonight, and you very purposefully take your bra off before you leave the bedroom and head towards the living room to meet Dieter there.

Dieter sits down on the sofa, eagerly waiting for you, and when you arrive in the festive pajamas, his breath is taken away. Shit, you look sexy even in those pajamas. “Come on baby, sit down. I thought we could watch Home Alone.” He pats the space beside him, eager to have you close.

“Home Alone is life.” You eagerly plop down next to him and throw your legs over his like you’ve done it a million times. “Always disappointed no one ever broke in at Christmas so I could wreck havoc. And that my parents weren’t rich enough to go to Paris.”

“What the fuck did his dad do to be able to afford to take all those people to Paris? Fuck, even I wouldn’t be that generous.” Dieter snorts and rubs your calves as the movie starts.

You bite back a moan at the way his fingers dig into the meat and muscle of your calves. “I don’t know, you’re pretty generous.” You compliment him, knowing that he’s been very generous with you.

“I guess I gotta get myself four kids to take on vacation to Paris and accidentally leave one behind.” He jokes, squeezing your calf and he can’t help but let his hand ride higher up, over your knee to your thigh.

“Four kids!” Your dramatic, wide eyed expression is absolutely to make him laugh and the warmth of it rolls over you when he does. “Good luck finding someone to have four kids. What happened to three? I think two would be my max.”

Dieter chuckles, “not if you get addicted to the sex.” He jokes, squeezing your thigh, “my oral can be very persuasive.” He sticks his tongue out and leans in to lick your neck, making your squeal and he chuckles against your skin until he stops, kissing your neck.

You have to remind yourself that this is a little scene for Dieter, he doesn’t really want you to have his kids. That would be crazy. Instead of lamenting that fact, you turn your head so your nose brushes his. “Hi.” You whisper with a grin.

Dieter grins, pulling back to look into your eyes, “hi.” He nudges his nose with yours. “Wanna make out?” He whispers and when you nod, he gently presses his lips to yours despite wanting to make out. He’s slow, cupping your cheek, and sliding his tongue into your mouth.

It’s juvenile to make out on a couch while a movie plays, but you love it. Moaning into his mouth softly while your tongues explore and you feel the familiar heat of arousal starting to burn in your core. Somehow, the two of you manage to end up horizontal on the sofa, you on top of Dieter surprisingly, and you are subtly rocking against him as you kiss.

Dieter caresses your back, his tongue moving with yours and his hands slide down to your ass, squeezing and pulling you closer to him, grinding you against him. He groans into your mouth, enjoying the feel of you above him, and he lets you lead this, not wanting to go too far.

You whine, feeling the hardening bulge under you and pull away, gasping for air while you look down at him. “I- I don’t want this to- I want to have sex with you.”  You admit. “Not because I’m- but because I want you.”

Dieter grins, “yeah? You want me to fuck you baby?” He asks, kissing your jaw and down to your neck. “You want me to make you cum?” He questions, squeezing your ass again. He’s eager to get you naked, hear you moan his name.

“Yes.” You whimper, grinding down on his cock and rolling your hips. Just because you didn’t dance at the club didn’t mean that you couldn’t. You press your lips to his gently. “Take me to bed, Dieter.”

Dieter nods, playfully smacking your ass, and he lets you shift off of him. He doesn’t care about the movie playing as he guides you to his bedroom. It’s a huge en-suite with a king sized bed and he turns to you as he stands in front of it. “Let me fuck you.” He requests, his hands caressing your waist.

You smirk and start to lift your shirt over your head. “First I want you to find out what my cunt tastes like.” You demand, exposing your tits to his eyes and tossing the shirt down. “And I want to see if the cock shown in Blue Hypnosis was actually yours or a body double.”

Dieter smirks, stepping away from you and his eyes are fixed on your breasts. “Shit. I wanna-” He can’t help himself, surging forward and ducking down to suck on your nipple, biting and licking over the hardening bud and groaning as you reach down to cup him through his sweats.

“Fuck!” You hiss, loving the pain and pleasure from his tongue, feeling how eagerly he is sucking on your nipple. Like he is trying to feed from you. His cock twitches against your palm and you curl your fingers around him through the material. “Fuck baby, you’re hung.”

He grins against your breast, pulling back after a moment to look at you, “oh I know.” He winks and shifts to kneel down, hooking his fingers in your shorts. He pulls them down and groans at the sight of your lack of underwear and the curls at the apex of your thighs. “Shit, you’re gorgeous.” Helping you step out of the shorts, he kisses your thighs before he stands up, “want you spread out on my bed.”

Rushing over to the bed, you lay down and spread your legs wide to let him see your already wet cunt. “Strip for me, Dieter.” You demand, loving the idea of watching him take off his clothes. “I want to see you.”

Dieter nods, shuffling back to pull his shirt off and he shoves his sweats down, exposing his thick cock, bobbing with heaviness and a bead of precum threatening to fall off of the tip. He’s cut and just long enough that you know you will feel him in your gut without it hurting. “Like the movie?” He teases, standing there in a pose.

You grin at the cockiness of the stance and have to admit he has a reason to be cocky. “I don’t know.” You tease, tilting your head. “It looks like you’re bigger than the cock in the movie.”

Dieter chuckles and winks at you, “glad to hear it. It’s yours baby.” He tells you as he kneels on the bed and he shifts into his stomach, kissing along your calf. He licks the space behind your knee as he shifts further up your body until he is sliding his tongue between your folds.

The gasp you give out is loud, even to your own ears. It’s been a long time since someone has licked your pussy and Dieter is unusually enthusiastic about it. Most men were very humdrum about it, viewing it as a chore or something to complete as quickly as possible. Not him, he spreads your legs wide and seems to settle down to explore with his tongue.

Dieter groans at the taste of you, his tongue diving deep and his fingers dig into your thighs as he pushes them back so he can get even deeper inside of you. He loves eating pussy, one of his favorite pastimes if he’s honest, and he flicks his tongue over your clit.

“Oh fuck.” Your eyes flutter closed as you try to ground yourself. You hadn’t expected this but you aren’t complaining. Not at all. Reaching down, your fingers tangle through his curls and fisting into his hair. “Oh fuck baby, it’s so good.”

Groaning when you tug on his hair, making him nuzzle his face further into your cunt, and he sucks on your clit…hard. His hands slide under your ass, tilting your hips more so he can slide his tongue deeper inside of you, his nose pressed against your clit.

“Shit.” Your choked out cry is nearly strangled. You’ve never had a man who wanted to push his tongue inside you. Always saying that your clit it where he needed to be. “Oh dear God, how - how do you not do porn? You should.”

Dieter chuckles, pulling back for a moment to look up at you. “I nearly did before I got my big break as an adult. Nearly needed the money.” He spits, letting his saliva dribble onto your clit, and he lathes his tongue over your folds to spread his spit. He is desperate for you to cum, wanting you to moan his name loud and clear as he pushes his tongue back inside of you.

Shuddering at the fact that Dieter just spit on your cunt, you bite your lip and your hips jerk down roughly. You’re a little desperate at the way his tongue is curling and twisting inside you. “Fuck, oh fuck.” Your fingers tug on his hair as the knot of pleasure pulls tight inside you. “I’m gonna cum baby. Oh fuuuuuuuck!” You squeal, overwhelmed with how quickly it slams into you.

Dieter keeps his tongue buried deep as you clamp down around it, soaking his mouth and chin with your cum. He fucking loves it, lapping deep for get every drop while his nose continues to press against your clit. He works you through it, wanting to prolong your orgasm despite his cock throbbing and trapped against the mattress.

It seems to drag out forever. Wave after wave of pleasure making your thighs shake around his ears. Pressing them tight against his head until his groan vibrates through you.

Dieter works you through it, moaning when you tug on his hair to pull him away when it gets too much, and he kisses your clit one last time before he shifts to kiss your thighs as you relax them. “Can I fuck you?” He asks, needing to be inside of you. He is aching, leaking onto his sheets as he waits for you to tell him he can slide inside of you.

You nod, blissed out and you frown slightly when you remember one very important thing. “I- we need a condom.” You don’t trust anyone without a condom, the fact that you take birth control is not even factored in. It’s more about sexual health and preventing any STDs. 

Dieter nods. “I have one.” That makes you feel better because you didn’t bring any despite wondering if you should. You honestly hadn’t anticipated sleeping with him so you had left them at home.

Dieter shifts to hover over you, reaching into his nightstand to grab a condom, and he leans back on his haunches while he opens the foil packet and rolls the rubber down his cock. He pumps himself a few times, looking down at you. “Fuck, you’re so gorgeous.” He murmurs, caressing your thigh with his other hand. 

“Fuck me.” You beg and he smirks, shifting to notch his cock at your entrance. Slowly pushing into you, he groans at the way your walls are already squeezing him.

Your mouth opens on a long moan, head tilting back as he fills you. So much thicker and deeper than his tongue, you love that he is slowly sliding into you inch by inch until his pubic hair is grinding against your clit.

“Shit baby. You feel - shit you’re so tight.” Dieter hisses through his teeth, unable to believe how good you feel around him, squeezing him. He swallows harshly before he leans down to press his lips to yours, his tongue sliding against yours when he begins to rock his hips.

Caressing his shoulder, you kiss him back eagerly, lifting a leg and wrapping it around his hip. Opening yourself up even more so he can work his way deeper into your cunt. “It’s- it’s because you have such a big- big dick.” You whimper, biting his chin when you pull away to speak.

Dieter grins, waggling his eyebrows as he looks down at you. “Glad you approve, baby girl.” He pecks your lips, pushing deep with slow, precise thrusts that make you give him the sweetest moans. He’s in no rush despite how horny he’s been for you, but he doesn’t want to rush this. He wants you to cum a couple of times before he does.

The rhythm is easy, no punishing pace that has you struggling to keep up. His strokes are sure and deep, but he isn’t chasing his own orgasm. Another surprise that has you rocking your hips up, enjoying the drag of his length against your walls and his lips against yours.

His hands squeeze your tits and he pinches your nipples, loving the way you gasp against his chin. “So fucking beautiful, wifey.” He teases, nipping your jaw and he kisses down your neck. Licking and sucking until he is taking your nipple into his mouth, biting down.

Walls clenching down around him, you moan again. Loving that he’s paying attention to your tits and mixing pain and pleasure together. He sucks harshly again and you hum. “Only for you honey.” You promise, playing along. “Need you to make me cum like only you can.”

Dieter loves how you play along, making him shudder as he rocks into you and he kisses along your sternum until he can press his lips to yours once more. He tilts his hips, trying to find the perfect spot to make you squeal.

Everything thrust pushes you up the bed slightly, making you bite your lip until that certain spot is hit with devastating accuracy. Making you cry out and sob his name when he pushes against it again.

“There it is.” He drawls, smiling as he focuses to hit that spot again. Your hand pressed against the headboard to stop your head from hitting it, and Dieter grabs your waist to keep you still. On his knees, he puts his force behind his thrusts as he focuses on that spot, needing you to cum for him.

Your other leg wraps around him and your hips and ass are lifted up off the bed as he fucks you. Every slam of his hips making you cry out, toes curling behind his back. It feels like he’s hammering into you with a battering ram and you fucking love it, your nails dragging down his arms and leaving red welts. “Fuck!” You squeal, body locking up and your vision going blurry as you soak him in your pleasure.

The way you clamp down on his cock has him groaning your name but he doesn’t cum. He grunts, caressing your hips, and he works you through it, not relenting his pace as he pushes you through it onto another orgasm. He is desperate to feel you cum again, desperate to make you stay here in his bed. “Shit. So fucking tight.” He hisses, working you through it.

His name becomes like a chant, a prayer dripping from your lips while his cock drills into you again and again. You hadn’t expected his stamina to last but you are thanking God or whoever is out there that it does. It’s wet, squelching, and you would be embarrassed of the fact that your pussy is being audaciously loud except for the fact that Dieter is loving it. Groaning and hissing as he rocks above you, saying ‘yes’ every time he hears it.

Dieter hisses, jaw clenched and he pulls out of you, making you whine. He flips you onto your stomach, straddling your thighs and he grips his wet cock, pushing back into you from behind and his eyes roll into his head at how tight you feel around him.

“That’s it. That’s fucking it, baby.” He groans, loving the way you cry out beneath him. He rocks into you, sweat beading on his forehead as he works himself deep into your cunt, hitting that spot over and over again. “Such a good girl. So good for me. Wifey. My wifey gripping my fucking cock. Want her to cum again.” He smacks your ass, squeezing it before he smacks it again.

You whine, trying to push back against him. You know that he’s wearing a condom, you watched him roll it on, but you pretend he’s not wearing it. “Fill me up, baby.” You beg hun. “Want to feel it. Want my hubby to- to fill me up.” You don’t know if he would like that, but you’ll see.

Your words make Dieter whine but he desperately wants you to cum one more time. “Shit. You want me to paint your tight walls? Fill you up with my cum?” He plays along, “knock my wifey up?” He has always had a little breeding kink but he’s always been worried that one woman would take it seriously and he’d have a love child. He’s always been so careful but you make him want to throw everything out the window.

“Fuck yes!” Your own breeding kink roars to life. Any boyfriends you had thought it was weird since you didn’t actually want to get pregnant. They didn’t understand that the idea was hot, but you didn’t want kids with them. This was safe. “God Dieter, put your baby in me. Fuck, please, please, I want it.”

He growls, loving how you feed into his kink with your own desires. “Gonna do it. Just need you to cum. Cum for your husband. Cum for me and I’ll fill you up.” He promises, rocking into you hard and fast and he smacks your ass before he shoves his hand beneath you to rub your clit.

That rub against your clit pushes you over the edge. Turning your head, you press your mouth to his sheets and muffle your cry, even then it’s loud. Walls locking down around him and another hot rush of your cum coating him while every nerve in your body lights up and explodes in pleasure.

The way you clamp down on him has him wishing he could feel how wet you are as you cum but he is soon focusing on his own orgasm. He groans, rocking a few times into you, and he hisses, “gonna cum. Gonna fill you up. Gonna knock you up.” He moans your name as he stills, burying his cock deep inside of you and filling the condom with his seed.

You whine when you feel him push deep, throbbing inside you although you don’t get the warmth that you would if he was actually filling you up. This is as good as it will get and it’s for the best. “So good baby, it’s so good.” Your eyes flutter closer and you smile when you lay your cheek against the sheet. “Fill me up, baby. Put that baby in my belly.”

Dieter pants, shifting so his body covers yours, and he groans your name as he twitches inside of you. “Fuck. You’re so good.” He groans, kissing your neck as he relaxes over you, keeping you pressed into the mattress.

“Hmmm.” You smile lazily, not minding the weight of him on top of you as you catch your breath. “I think I should be saying that to you.” You praise him. “Don’t think I’ve cum that many times in one go in a long time.”

Dieter grins, proud to hear you say that. “Gotta take care of my wifey.” He pulls out of you, gripping the condom, and he quickly removes it, tying it off and tossing it onto the nightstand before he lays down beside you, looking at your beautiful, blissed out face. He grins, happy to have this moment with you. “This is the best Christmas Eve I’ve ever had.”

You send him a smile with your eyes cracked open. His fingers stroke up and down your spine and you are about to start purring like a cat. “I’m glad honey.” You honestly are. “I am having a great time too.”

Dieter smiles, continuing to caress your spine, and when you hum and snuggle closer to him, he kisses you. Slow and soft, unhurried and he just enjoys being beside you. He is soon falling asleep - always does after an orgasm - and keeps you in his arms until after the clock strikes midnight. "Merry Christmas." You whisper to a sleeping Dieter.

****

Waking before he does, you slip silently out of the bed. Needing to pee but you don’t go to his bathroom, instead you make your way down to the guest bedroom you hadn’t slept in to do that and wrap his present before throwing on some clothes so you can get started cleaning up the kitchen from the night before and start making breakfast for you and Dieter.

Dieter wakes up to the scent of bacon and he groans, patting the bed but the spot you occupied is cold. He grunts and opens one eye, realizing it’s Christmas morning. “It’s Christmas.” He whispers to himself with excitement, looking forward to giving you the gift he had his assistant buy for you. He had picked it out, of course. After peeing and brushing his teeth, he pulls on a pair of boxers and makes his way into the kitchen to find you cooking. “Morning wifey.” He coos, stepping behind you to kiss your neck, “merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, honey.” You turn in his arms and kiss his lips before you turn back towards the bacon so it doesn’t burn. “I hope you don’t mind, I wanted to cook you breakfast so we could eat it in front of the Christmas tree.”

Dieter caresses your hips, “mind? Baby, it’s perfect.” He promises, kissing your neck when you turn back to the stove. “This is everything I’ve ever dreamed of.” He murmurs, knowing he’s paying you for this but he desperately wants you to be real, this to be real. He sighs, “I have a present for you too.”

“Dieter.” You tut and look over your shoulder to pout at him. “You shouldn’t have gotten me anything.” Even though you have a present for him under the tree, he has done way too much for you already. “I have a present for you too.”

Dieter grins, “you didn’t have to do that baby.” He tuts and kisses your neck again. He steps back away from you and lets you finish cooking while he watches, wanting this situation every weekend. He wants you. “You’re too good to me, baby.” He groans when you set the breakfast down in front of him.

You move back over to his kitchen counter to pour up two cups of coffee. Not sure how he liked his coffee, you had made mocha with some of the peppermint chocolate that you had from baking cookies. You had melted the bits and put it in the sugar and creamer. “I enjoy doing things like that, but you are more than welcome.” You wink and drop a kiss on his lips before you sit down opposite him. “Merry Christmas.” 

Dieter grins as you sit down and he holds his mug up towards you, “Merry Christmas, baby girl.” He winks and takes a sip of the coffee, groaning at the taste. “Shit, you’re too good at treating me.” He gestures to the breakfast and he knows it’s gonna be hard to go back to being alone.

“The day’s not over yet.” You remind him playfully. “We still have dinner tonight, beef wellington of course, and whatever else you want to do.” Most of the Christmasy activities you had managed to get packed into last night, so you could honestly do whatever. You just want him to have the experience he wants, not just for the money now.

Dieter smiles, “that sounds perfect. I want us to have a relaxing day. Maybe we can watch some more movies and…and I wouldn’t mind, uh, having you for dessert at some point today. If you’re not sore.” He adds, not wanting to push you. He only wants you if you want him.

You smirk, the soreness between your thighs just telling you that you had been fucked right the the night before. “Pillow fort on the floor in the movie room?” You ask with a wink. “We could do naked Christmas.”

Dieter smirks back at you, “I like the way you think.” He digs into the breakfast, moaning and groaning at the taste, and he doesn’t speak as he appreciates your cooking. “Best Christmas morning meal ever.” He compliments you when his plate is cleared.

“Thank you.” You don’t know exactly what he normally does for meals, but you just wanted him to enjoy his time and eat well while you are together. It doesn’t hurt that you love his kitchen and would spend all your time in there if you could. “I’m just going to clean this up if you want to get started on setting up the movie room? Then we’ll open presents? Or do you want to do that now?”

“I want to do it now. Leave the dishes. We can get to them later.” He tells you, reaching for your hand. “Get the presents, baby.” He gestures to the two presents under the tree. He can’t wait to give you the present he had purchased for you, excited to see the look on your face when you open it.

“I hope you know you didn’t have to do anything.” You feel bad, especially since he is paying you to be here. Although you think you’re going to tell him not to pay you the other ten thousand. It wouldn’t be right since you’ve slept together. The paper is beautiful and you pick it up and grin at him as you shake it slightly like a child.

Dieter chuckles, watching you as you carefully open the present to reveal the red box inside. “I- I wanted to get you something to remember me after we - after the holiday ends.” He confesses, reluctant to let you go but he knows you wouldn’t want to stay here with him after you get the money. You recognize the red box with gold etching and your hand shakes a little as you open it to reveal the bracelet inside. “I, uh, I had it engraved too.”

“Dieter- it’s too much.” You gasp, fingers brushing over the beautiful bracelet and you look up at him in awe. He can’t return it, it’s custom and you are blown away at the thoughtfulness of the gift. “It’s not.” He insists and you lean forward and press your lips to his. “Put it on me.” You demand, overwhelmed at his generosity.

Grinning, Dieter carefully takes the bracelet and opens it using the screwdriver, fastening it onto your wrist so it can’t be taken off. “It’s yours. No matter what, you are keeping this.” Dieter insists, kissing the back of your hand after the bracelet is secure on your wrist.

“Too kind.” You huff, kissing him again before you pick up the wrapped present you had decided on for him. It’s definitely not near as luxurious as his gift and you wonder if he will be disappointed in it. But what do you get a man who has what Dieter does?

He carefully takes the present, following your example as he carefully opens the paper. He takes the box and opens the lid, eyes widening at the sight of the book. He grins, “A Christmas Carol?” He takes the book out and opens the first page, seeing your writing, and he murmurs as he reads it, “to the best Christmas I’ve ever had with an amazing man.” You signed it and dated it and even though it’s simple, it’s the best thing he’s ever gotten for Christmas. “Thank you so much baby.” He surges forward to press his lips to yours.

You sigh in relief that he does hate it, grinning against his lips. “Now that we’ve opened presents, let’s get ready to spend the rest of the day indulging in whatever we want.” You pull back and give him a dirty wink. “Be a good boy and I’ll even wash the dishes naked.” You tease, unable to resist kissing him again.

His cock twitches at your words and Dieter smirks at you, “oh I can be a good boy, sweetheart.” He chuckles and shifts to sit on the sofa, patting his lap for you to sit with him. “Come on, want a Christmas kiss from my girl.” He tells you, pouting his lips slightly.

There is something inherently vulnerable in the way that Dieter looks at you. Like he is halfway expecting rejection and seems surprised and pleased when you don’t do that. Instead you straddle his waist and grin as you wrap your arms around his neck. “Christmas kiss, huh?” You tease. “I guess it better be good.”

Dieter beams at the way you straddle him and he eagerly presses his lips to yours, his tongue sliding along your bottom lip before his hands squeeze your ass while you leisurely kiss him. There’s no rush, just enjoyment as you relish a Christmas kiss.

Humming, you could live in this kiss. Wanting to just swim in it forever. His earring is stupid and his hair unfairly soft, and you love the dumb tattoos on his arms, even more the ones on his thighs. Today you are going to explore them, do what you want to him this time.

Dieter kisses you several times, his hands rubbing your body, and he is content to just be in this moment with you. He loves how you feel, he loves how you sound, how you taste. Shit. He presses his lips to yours again, wanting to distract himself from his own thoughts.

There’s a change in the way that he kisses you. It becomes a little more desperate, needy and you wonder if he’s thought of something he doesn’t like. Especially the way that he’s not gripping you any tighter or trying to take it farther than the kiss. Instead of pulling away, you sink your fingers into his hair and scratch his scalp. “How about a Christmas soak in a tub before pillow forts and movies?”

“Sounds good baby. I have some bath bombs we can use.” He kisses along your jaw while you scratch his scalp and he groans at the feeling of your nails on his head. He reluctantly pulls back from you, smacking your ass. “Let’s get that bath ready.”

You give a small giggle and shake your head as you stand up. “I hope you have an amazing bathtub.” You grab his hand and help pull him up with a small grunt. “Want to luxuriate in a bath and maybe ride you if you want.”

“Jesus, you know how to spoil me baby.” He chuckles, guiding you into his room and through to the master bathroom so he can get the bath running. After setting the temperature, he searches for the bath bombs and throws a couple in, excited to get in there with you and see you naked again. You lean against the counter and he just stares, thinking that you’re fucking gorgeous.

Smirking, you see the way that his eyes are trailing up and down your body, seeming peering under your pajamas. “Someone wants a little strip show?” You tease, rolling your hips as you reach for the bottom of your shirt to pull it up to just under your breasts.

His eyes widen slightly and he nods, almost fast enough to make himself dizzy. “Please baby. Let me see you. I want to see you.” He is already hardening in his shorts just from the thought of touching you again.

You’ve stripped for exactly one other man. A boyfriend for a year that you found out was seeing your ex-best friend behind your back. You had seen the text messages between them and knew how they viewed you for working in a strip club so you had never done it again. But now, you feel good as you watch him nearly drool as you lift your shirt up to show him one breast.

“Don’t tease.” Dieter whines, “come on baby. Let me see you. Want to suck on your tits. Want to make you cum.” He says, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms while he waits for you to put on a show.

Biting your lip, you chuckle and slowly pull your shirt up over your head and whip it around your hand before you throw it towards Dieter. Cupping your tits and winking at him while you turn around and look over your shoulder, shaking your ass at him.

His chuckle turns into a groan as you put on a show, tossing the shirt he caught down on the counter behind him. “You’re so sexy. I’d say you’ve been wasted as a cocktail waitress but I would be lying because I’m happy only I’ve had the chance to see this, to see you like this.”

“You like this?” You coo, smirking at him and hooking your fingers under your pajamas pants and sashay your hips down and then back up. Teasing as you start to push them down slowly, almost a fraction of an inch at a time.

“Like it? Baby I love it.” Dieter watches you expose your ass to his eager eyes and he fucking loves it. Groaning your name, he watches you visually tease him and he reaches down to squeeze his hard cock through his pants.

It makes you feel incredibly powerful. This man, this Oscar winning actor could have models or starlets in his bed and he wants you, his cock is hard for you. You start twerking slightly as you bend over and let him see more, including where you are already soaked at the thought of fucking him again.

“Fuck.” He hisses, watching you with rapture, and he squeezes himself again, “you’re already wet.” He can’t believe how gorgeous you are, how sexy you are, and you’re wet for him. The bath is nearly run and he reluctantly pushes off of the counter so he can turn off the water, testing it with his hand.

“Of course I am.” You shake your head and pout at him. “You fucked me really good last night. Was it a fluke? Or because you were still a little high?” You notice that his eyes are dilated today and he’s sober. “How will it be today?”

Dieter shakes his head, pulling you close and his hands caress your waist. “I will make you cum. I - I am human so I’m not perfect every time but I’m sober today. I don’t want to be high because - because you alone make me happy. I want to feel you, I want to - to be in this moment with you.” He leans in to kiss your jaw.

“I like that.” You close your eyes and tilt your head back and wrap your arms around him again. “I’ve been enjoying this entire thing. All of it. You’ve been wonderful.”

Dieter kisses along your neck, “this is the best Christmas I’ve ever had. I don’t want you to leave.” He murmurs against your skin, his hands squeezing your ass as he pulls you even closer to his body until his hard cock is pressed into your hip. “Let me fuck you in the bath baby.”

“Un uh.” You shake your head and grin as you bite his chin. “I’m going to fuck you in the bath. Be a good boy and strip off and get in the water. I want to sit on your hard cock.”

Groaning, Dieter nods and shifts to step away from you. Putting on his own show as he reaches for the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head and he tosses it down before shoving his shorts and boxers down in one move, his hard cock bouncing free. “Want you to fuck me.” He says, stepping into the large tub and groaning at the hot water.

Biting your lip, you remember the condom and look around. “Do you have a condom in here, baby?” You wish that you felt comfortable enough to go without, but you don’t know when the last time he got tested was. Especially since this wasn’t a permanent thing.

“Shit. Uh, yeah, in the third drawer down. We don’t have to have sex. I wouldn’t mind just making out if you aren’t comfortable.” He tells you, not wanting you to be pressured if you aren’t comfortable with fucking him in the bath.

“Not comfortable?” You frown, shaking your head and digging through the drawer to find the condoms. “Baby, the only thing that I wish is that you had a recent STD test so I could feel you bare. I want to fuck you and that amazing cock of yours.” It’s a surprising thought for you since you never do unprotected sex, but you want it with him.

Dieter’s eyes widen, “wait. I had one a couple of weeks ago and I haven’t slept with anyone since because I’ve been filming. It’s on my phone.” He completely forgot about it, “we can still use a condom but I did have a test done. Just to assure you I’m clean.”

You bite your lip, gauging his honesty and deciding that you are going to take a risk. “I haven’t - I’m clean. It’s been a long time since I was with someone else.” You promise him. “And I’m on birth control.” You hold the condom up that you found and cock your head slightly. “Do you want to use it, or do you want to risk it? I want to- to risk it.”

Dieter stares at you, surprised that you are completely trusting him. He wouldn’t lie to you but some people would take advantage of your trust. You trust him. He would never betray that. “It’s not a risk when I trust you. I swear I’m clean. Get my phone and I’ll show you but I - I want to feel you. I want to cum inside of you.” The memory of last night with your breeding kink has him twitching under the water.

“I trust you. You’re trusting me too.” You remind him, sure that plenty of beautiful women have told him that they are on birth control and they aren’t, looking for an 18 year payout in child support. You toss the condom down and stride over to the tub to step in and sink down to your knees to straddle him in the large vessel. “You want to fill me up, baby?” You coo. “Plant your baby inside me for Christmas?”

Dieter groans, reaching out to grip your waist, and he loves that you are playing into the kink already. “Absolutely. Fuck, this time next year we could have a kid. You’d be pregnant for most of next year. Round and gorgeous.” He groans, watching your tits as you reach between you to grip his cock. “You need me to stretch that pussy out first?” He asks, caressing your hips.

“No.” You’re a little breathless, imagining that for real even though you know this is just role play. You two are not together and that is way too much responsibility for right now. “I want it to pinch.” You lift your hips up and notch him at your entrance. “I want to feel it sting.”

He hisses at your words, cock twitching in your grip, and he watches your face as you start to sink down onto his cock. “Fuck baby. Your cunt is so tight.” He closes his eyes for just a second before opening them so he can watch you. “Ride my cock. Make me fill you up so it takes.” He orders, his hands squeezing your ass once you’re fully seated on his length.

You whine softly at his words, grinding down and enjoying the way it feels like he’s deep in your guts. “Going to.” You promise, bracing your hands on the sides of the tub as you start to lift yourself off of him. “Gonna cum all over your cock first.”

Dieter groans, leaning forward to take one of your nipples into his mouth with his hands sliding up your back until one hand is squeezing your tit that his mouth isn’t attached to. “Gonna drink milk from these.” He tells you with a groan, “gonna - gonna watch them swell with milk.”

It’s embarrassing how sexy that sounds and you moan loudly. Biting your lip and tangling your fingers into his hair while you start to bounce on his cock. Every time his teeth scrap your nipple, your walls clench around him. “Yeah? You want to- to have me as your milk cow? Have fresh milk from- from the source?”

“Fuckkkkkk yessssss.” He hisses, “want to drink from you. Suck on your tits.” He thrusts up into you, making the water splash and he switches to your other breast, moaning at the feel of your tight cunt around his cock.

“Bad boy.” You gasp out, head tilted back in pleasure. “You- you’re supposed to let me ride you.” You remind him, even though you don’t mind it at all. It’s fun, this teasing and light banter during sex. A complete change up from normal sexual encounters.

Dieter loves you calling him a bad boy. “Damn. I know. I’ll be good.” He promises, “I’ll be a good boy for you, baby.” He vows, keeping his hips still as he kisses along your chest and neck.

You chuckle quietly, loving how desperate he kisses you and how he sounds. The thick drag of his cock inside you feels even better without the protective latex and you gasp loudly when he twitches inside you. “Oh fuck baby, look at that big dick inside me, feels so good. Only you can feel this good inside me. That big dick’s gonna fill me up, huh?”

“Fuck me.” Dieter groans at your dirty words, “fuck you are so good. So damn good to me. Feel incredible. Shit. This tight pussy feels so good without latex. So tight, hot and wet. Unbelievable. So Damn good. Want you to cum for me.”

“I’m going to, baby. Gonna scream so loud that the neighbors will hear.” Water is sloshing onto the floor but you don’t care, chasing that extreme rush that you get when you cum. Lifting yourself up to slam back down on his cock like you are riding a bucking Bronco. “Fuck baby, gonna cum!” You squeal.

Dieter watches you, your tits bouncing, and he is groaning your name. “Do it. Cum for me. Cum for me baby girl.” He demands, reaching between you to rub your clit.

Throwing yourself forward, your lips slot against his desperately while you come apart. Moaning his name against his mouth as your walls clamp down on his cock and the harsh bouncing turns into desperate grinding.

Working you through it with his hand trapped between you, and he kisses you. Tongue sliding against yours and he’s not ready to cum yet. He waits until you have stopped shaking and he caresses your back, “good baby?”

“Yes.” You whisper, closing your eyes and smiling against his lips. “God, I don’t see how you are single.” You are so drunk on pleasure, you don’t even have a filter. “I’d refuse to let go of this if I had it. Not the money or whatever, but the sex. The way you make me feel.”

“Jesus. Me too. You feel so good. How - how are you single? You’re incredible. Perfect fucking wifey. Beautiful, sexy, kind. Cooks - cooks a mean fucking breakfast. Pussy tastes amazing. Jesus, those assholes who couldn’t accept your job are fools. You’re amazing.” He is also drunk on pleasure and he hasn’t even cum yet.

It almost hurts to start moving again, the head of his cock speared up against the most wonderful little spot inside you that there is a rush of liquid coating him when you move. “Shit!” You gasp out, eyes wide and you freeze, sure that he will think you just peed on him.

“Did you - shit - did you just squirt?” He asks, eyes wide and his cock twitches inside of you. “Fuck baby. Tell me.” He demands, his voice raspy as he leans back to look at you.

“I-I-“ you shake your head, unsure of yourself since you’ve never done that before. “I think? I didn’t- I know I didn’t pee.” You promise, feeling your face flame up, despite the fact that he is wide eyed. You aren’t sure of what he will say.

“Fuck thats so hot. Let’s try it again.” He grabs your hips, rocking you in his cock. “Tell me when we find it again.” He orders, thrusting up into you in different angles until you cry out his name.

It’s so sexy that he likes that. “Never- never don’t that before.” You gasp out, clinging to him as he frantically tries to recreate that moment. “Just with you, baby.”

He fucking loves hearing that, keeping his cock pressing against that spot again and again as he rocks you on his cock. “Want you to cum like that again. Want you to soak my cock, squirt on it, want you to squeeze it. Can you do that for me baby?”

“Yes.” You moan, leaning back and whine in pleasure when his tongue slides around your nipple again before he sucks it into his mouth. “Fuck, do anything for you, just keep touching me.”

Dieter doesn’t stop, keeping his tongue on your nipple, flicking over and over again and he thrusts up into you, desperate for you to cum again, to squirt again.

When he hits that spot again, the twist of pleasure makes you scream. Soaking him again while your thighs spasm around his hips and your walls squeeze his cock so hard you swear your will hurt him.

Groaning as you squeeze his cock hard, soaking him, and he throws his head back at the way you grip his cock. “Holy fucking shit. That’s so hot.” He gasps out, rocking up into you as much as he can and he hisses as he cums, unable to stop himself as he fills you up with his seed.

Now you feel it. The flood of warmth from his cum filling you and making you whine as he pumps you full. “Oh fuck, oh fuck Dieter.” You stroke his chest and collapse against it, kissing his neck softly.

“God, I hope it takes.” Dieter murmurs, stroking your back as you lean against him. His cock twitches inside of you as he rides out his orgasm, lost in the haze of pleasure as you slump against him. “Fuck, I want it to take.”

It’s just role play. You remind yourself of that as you kiss his jaw up to his lips again. He is just feeding into the fantasy of this weekend. Sighing softly, you smirk as you lean back. “That was an even better Christmas present than my bracelet.”

Dieter chuckles, “yeah? My cock beats a Cartier bracelet?” He is pleased and amused to hear that. “You being here is the best Christmas present I’ve ever had.” He tells you, swallowing harshly and he dreads the moment you leave his house. He doesn’t care about the money, he cares about being alone again, about being lonely without you here. “Stay. Stay until the new year. I’ll triple the money.” He offers.

Your eyes nearly pop out of your head, they get so wide and you immediately shake your head. “No- Dieter, I can’t- holy shit.” You whisper. “I can’t take sixty thousand dollars from you.” You blow out a small sigh. “I- I can’t even take the other ten thousand.”

Dieter frowns, leaning back from you. “Why not?” He is hurt, upset that you don’t want to stay with him, even for the money. Have you truly hated being with him? Have you really despised him that much? Are you a better actor than him? All those insecurities threaten to drown him and he pushes you off of him, his cock falling from inside of you. “Fine. You don’t have to stay. You can leave now if you want.” He offers coolly, stepping out of the bath and he doesn’t even grab a towel as he walks into his bedroom to grab some clothes. He needs to get out of here, he can’t be around you if you’re just gonna leave him like everyone else.

You stare at the empty door for a moment, thoroughly confused by what the hell just happened. You were trying to tell him that you didn’t want money for spending time with him. You really loved being with him just because. Confused, you stand up and let the water out of the tub and wrap an oversized towel around your body before you leave to find Dieter.

Dieter is pulling on sweatpants when you enter the bedroom, making him freeze. “I’m going out. You can get your stuff and go. I’ll wire the money. I won’t break my word.” He promises you as he pulls on a t-shirt, his heart breaking that you want to leave.

“Dieter stop, please stop.” You reach out and touch his arm but he just jerks away from you like you disgust him. “Fine.” He obviously doesn’t want to talk. “I’ll leave, but I don’t want your fucking money.” You spit. “I’m going to wire the ten thousand back to you. I’ve done nothing to deserve it. Especially when I’ve loved every second of being here.” You turn around and walk out of his bedroom, biting your lip to keep from crying as you hurry down to the room he had set up for you.

Dieter pauses when you hurry down the hall and he frowns, wondering what you mean by that. Wanting to find out, he stomps down the hall and slams your door open. “What the fuck do you mean? You hated being here? That’s why you won’t stay, why you won’t take the money.” He explains what he is thinking and he hates how his eyes prick with tears of betrayal.

“What?” You’ve managed to get your leggings and bra on, tears on your cheeks obvious and you shake your head. “What are you talking about? I can’t take your money because it would be wrong. I am not letting you pay me sixty thousand dollars for doing something I would do for free.”

“Why the fuck would you do it for free? No one wants to be around me for nothing. No one wants me for me. I know it’s the money. Everyone wants a piece of me. I want to pay you to spend time with me. I don’t want you to leave. No one has ever made me feel like you do. I don’t even want you to go but I know you’ll get tired of me like everyone else does.” Dieter rages.

Your heart completely breaks for him, the defiant and confused expression on his face reminds you of a puppy who is left behind at a kennel, overlooked by potential families. Fuck, you always said you wouldn’t take on a fix’er upper and here you are. You shake your head and take a step closer, “Dieter, I don’t want your money. I promise you. I don’t want a piece of you, I just want to spend time with you.”

“Why?” Dieter chokes, a tear escaping his eye and he stubbornly wipes the tear from his cheek. “Why would - no one wants to just spend time with me. I’m not easy to deal with.”

“No you’re not.” You scoff. “You have not been rude or demanding once. You’ve asked permission to do anything and you are so grateful for anything that I do for you. That’s not difficult.” You step up to him and caress his cheek. “Could you be difficult? Sure, but so can I. I think you being in that club was the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time.”

Dieter melts under your touch, “are you - seriously?” He asks and you nod, smiling at you. “I think you’re the best thing that’s happened to me in - in my entire life. I don’t want to give you up. I know you’re not mine but I want to see what happens. I just - you’re so beautiful and kind and you make me feel like a normal person, you make me feel like a normal man, not just an actor. I could easily fall in love with you.”

“Dieter, I wasn’t telling you that I didn’t want to stay.” You promise him. “I just don’t want you to pay me. I’ll stay here with you until the New Year like you want. I have to work but I will come back here after? If that’s okay?”

Dieter reaches out to cup your cheeks, “you want to stay?” He asks and you nod. He grins, unable to believe that you want to stay with him. “I don’t want you to go. You can work - I wouldn’t stop that - but I don’t want you to leave me. I don’t mind paying you but I want you to know that I haven’t felt like this before.”

“Are you- are you asking me to move in?” You ask, confused by what exactly he is wanting. Does he want you to stay for another week or forever? “I just want you to clarify.”

Dieter is confused by his own feelings, knowing that he is asking a lot of you. “I want you to stay until the New Year and if you want to stay, I’d like you to move in. I - I want to explore this - us - without the outside world ruining it. My fans, the internet…I want us to figure it out before I expose you to that bullshit. I think I could fall for you so stay…don’t go.” He pleads.

You bite your lip, frowning slightly. “You know that it will come out that I am a cocktail waitress at a strip club.” You feel that it’s only right to warn him but Dieter just scoffs and rolls his eyes. 

“Yeah and I’ll tell them that’s where I met you.” 

You don’t know if you would want him to do that, but you do want to stay. “I’ll stay. We’ll figure out what we want to do. Together.”

Dieter surges forward to press his lips to yours, so pleased you are staying until the new year and you’re going to stay so you can figure out what you feel for each other. “Together.” He murmurs against your mouth. “Merry Christmas baby.” He sighs, pulling you close and he knows this has been the best Christmas he’s ever had. He knows that he’ll likely be in love with you by the new year and he desperately wants you to stay with him, be in his life. 

“Merry Christmas.” You tell him and he smiles, “best Christmas ever.”

[rosebarry16]

Saira Wright's childhood

Warning : strong language, Mention of light gore, Mention of depression and insecurities

☆☆☆

Saira wright was born in Hong Kong, Japan, on 5th of March 1999 in Queen mary Hospital. Aiko wright the mother gave birth to saira at the age of 19 years old. Her mother at the time has severe depression for almost her teenage years not finding the beauty of life often, however saira fixed her problem and promised her daughter that she'll always be with her every step of the way...for now. Mikai wright, her father loves saira since the day Aiko announced her pregnancy and happy to have a daughter.

In 2003, saira is always exposed to her Japanese culture and always curious and playful. Her love for butterflies and stuffed animals were endless, especially mister hops her stuffed bunny and Mr cookies her teddy. Aiko would be busy with saira teaching her basics of life and best education.

In 2004 when saira turned 5 years old, she loves to play pretend alot and sometimes she plays it with Mikai, the most pretend she played as is a scecertary. She always would talk to her stuffed animals, dolls, Does a waiting room and an office. One day kenji wright, her uncle. Came to his brother's home to seek safe place from yakuza, coming back with his pinky finger cut. Saying he left yakuza. Mikai didn't want to participate but he had to so he let kenji stay.

Kenji and saira's bond are Huge. They would act like twins and kenji always treats saira was respect and like his daughter. His love for is unspeakable.

In 2005 mikai decided to teach saira the importance of work at 6 and asked kenji to hire her in his restaurant. Kenji agreed, she was a waitress but he realized that she was good at making appointments, calls, writing and talking. He switched her position to scertery until the age of 8. She got kicked out due to her moving to the uk

In 2007 she moved in uk and later got the nationality, she grew her English and British accent into a better level. When she turned 10 she had a part time job in a candy shop...the owner was Japanese too! Mikai even recognized him. He was one of his friends from high school

In 2012 entering her puberty, saira grew with more interests such as makeup, boys, books, katanas and mostly socials. She would go out with her girlfriends to malls, do makeup and girly stuff more likely. In that age insecurities can affect her but not until her dad's friend's daughter came into the picture and mikai stopped supporting saira but aiko still by her side and accepted everything about her.

Saira and mikai's relationship began to fell day after day due to him foucing on his friend's daughter who was smart, young, beautiful and talented. Saira's heart shattered

In 2013 Saira then started to be rude to her father and always fight with him to get her way, he would complain everything about her and everytime they argue mikai would always brings his friend's daughter into the picture

"Why can't you be like her??"

Saira gets more rude when he talks about her and preferred her more than his own daughter. Until one day they got into a heated fight.

"You always disrespect me!"

"You never pay attention to me!"

"Saira you better behave! Why can't you just like her?? You put too much makeup, your too disrespectful, you never have talents"

"I'm not a bitch like her!"

"Don't talk about her like that"

"She's not perfect! And if you love her so much then why don't you make her your daughter?! I can survive without you!"

"Really? And go where exactly? To your little friends house?"

"To Russia!"

"Russia?? Your not gonna survive there!"

"Well as long as they don't have you I'm fine"

"Then get out of my house"

"I FUCKING HATE YOU!"

Saira shouted at him in a broke hearted voice and packed her things, she took the piggy bank with her and left the house, tears were falling fastly and she made her way to the airport.

Saira had this piggy bank when she was a baby, the purpose was to put money in it until she was collage and saira always dreamed of traveling to russia, she read alots of books and articles about russia. She paid for a ticket and went there, meanwhile aiko went home and saw saira was missing and learned the information that her daughter was kicked out of the house due to makeup and attitude, aiko couldn't stop crying while kenji spent all day yelling at his brother

"What the fuck were you thinking?! She's 14 and you kicked her out and she went to russia?! Do you have any idea how russia is dangerous and reckless you are?! She's your daughter for God's sake!!!"

Half of her family from Japan were mad at mikai for the decision.

Saira reached sixth day in russia, looking for a job in Saint Petersburg. It was a snowy day and no shop accepted her due to her being 14. She sighed and kept on walking until she bumped into a man

"Watch where you going"

He said in his thick russian accent looking at her

"I'm sorry"

"What are you doing here at this late hour? You shouldn't be here alone especially if your a little girl"

"I'm looking for a job..I have no one but myself.."

He stayed silent for a few moments.

"What's your name?"

"Saira Wright...what about you?"

"Vladimir...Vladimir Makarov"

...

Hey guys! This was hard for me to write and calculated some years so I could get it right but I hope you like it!!💖

I tag : @alypink and @piouswolf

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"After beverage rooms opened in Ontario in 1934, the Board followed up with the further regulatory conditions concerning dancing and "ladies nights." The "ladies and escorts" sections "typically took up half of the beverage-room area, had their own entrances and washroooms,  and were heavily patronized from the beginning."

Even so, the very presence of women within drinking establishments in combination with unmarried men prompted a moral outcry against the potential impropriety inspired by this mixed drinking  within the male beverage rooms. In response in 1937 the LCBO drafted beverage regulations requiring licensed establishments to have "two separate and distinct beverage rooms one for men only, and the other solely for women, except where attended by bona fide escorts.” (Globe and Mail, 1937)

This regulation also applied to female servers, who contested their restriction from serving liquor within the "men only" beverage room. In repeated communications the Board stressed its strong opposition against women servers, denying women the right to work within these establishments even if they owned them or were wives of the owners. In 1944 the Board partially yielded on the matter, explaining to authority holders that they could "make use of females as waitresses in the Ladies' and Escorts' beverage room ONLY" (LCBO 1944). LCBO policy required that "authority holders desiring this privilege" within the Ladies and Escorts room to have female servers working "must make application to the Board as well as submit a medical certificate covering the proposed employee and indicating that she is free from disease" (ibid.). Having these women in male beverage rooms apparently "raised fears about prostitution, immorality and venereal disease" within anti-beverage room discourses (Marquis 2004:316; Globe 1934b; Ontario Provincial Council of Women 1944). Male servers, in contrast, were not held to this medical standard. The transfer of principle, then, was based not on exclusion, but instead on inclusionary segmentation of the space in which alcohol circulated. It continued in Ontario until the responsibility of controlling these establishments was shifted away from the LCBO and the opening of mixed "Cocktail Lounges" targeted a more temperate middle-class clientele in 1947 (Marquis 2004: 317).

Women could, of course, drink within their homes. Yet in the Board's early years even there some female drinkers who were the subject of gossip and public criticism, On the LCBO's opening day in 1927 the Globe reported on women purchasers as if they were spectacles for public consumption. Articles were critical of women who "wheeled baby carriages" when making their purchases, or of women who were assertive of their right to drink openly and questioning their ability to both drink and be effective mothers (Globe 1927h). Moreover, discourses surrounding alcoholism and motherhood in the late 1930s expressed fears over a scientifically underdeveloped and fear-based understanding of what would later become known as fetal alcohol syndrome. At a WCTU convention in 1937 a speaker expressed “science claims that alcoholic mothers give to the world either a prostitute or a delinquent, when she does not give an epileptic, an idiot or a lunatic.”

During the Board's early years many women also avoided taking out a permit of their own for fear of being stigmatized - a tendency that again increased the degree to which female gender performances concerning alcohol were mediated by male figures within their lives. When it came to Board policy, the identity of women's husbands or fathers was integrated into the purchase process: the occupations and sometimes names of these men were included on female permits, acting as the lenses through which cases of misspending and overindulgence were viewed.

Unlike men's clubs and legions, which had no trouble obtaining licenses and served as a means by which men could resist Board control over their drinking spaces, women's clubs were denied this privilege…this "issue blew up first in 1935 when the Germaine Club, which had always had a mixed membership, was ordered to stop serving beer to women." The Board held firm to its decision. It disallowed not only women in uniform from drinking but also the gender-exclusive woman's auxiliary equivalents of male clubs."

- Gary Genosko and Scott Thompson, Punched Drunk: Alcohol, Surveillance and the LCBO 1927–1975. Winnipeg and Halifax: Fernwood Press, 2009. p. 152-153

[earnmysong]

@goddesspharo and @somethingaboutsewing hit me up to list my nine favorite first watch movies of last year. thankssssss, darlings! in turn, if they wish, i pass the baton to: @scarletslippers, @ericsariels, @cashewdani, @hondagirll, or anyone else who feels inclined!

nine favorite first watches of 2023:

Are You There, God? It's Me, Margaret

Theater Camp

Barbie

Sitting in Bars with Cake

Waitress: The Musical

Elemental

Shazam!: Fury of the Gods

David Holmes: The Boy Who Lived

Friday Night Lights (2004)