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eyesxxyou · 4 months

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❝ rough hands ❞ (rival bands!au)

｡ﾟ･ ¡ content. rival bands hobie x FTM!reader, conflicting emotions, a lot of sexual tension, a ton of mentions of hobie's hands, tw:pigs cops, being pinned down, fingering, handjob, a lot of bantering, generally just how I think sex withHobie would be, smut with a LOT of plot. the mary janes and the mutts have had a longstanding hatred for one another for years but you can't seem to resist the antics of hobie brown

wc: 4.3k

Fuck.

“They’re good.” Your drummer nudged as you and the rest of your band watched The Mary Janes perform on stage. They were opening for your performance and fuck if they weren't good at it. So much energy, such an art, you couldn't believe how fucking amazing he was on stage. Hobie Brown, the lead singer and guitarist. He was a force to be reckoned with.

You shrugged. “They're alright. Not better than us.” Your eyes narrow as they finish out their final song and Hobie takes a breath, thanking everyone for coming out. The crowd cheers, screams for him and you’re positive you can make them scream louder.

You and your band, The Mutts, move to the side as Hobie and his Mary Janes walk off stage. You catch his gaze, his smile so confident, cool, and carefree. You hate it, hate him. He doesn't say anything to you but you can see it in his eyes and the way he turns from you like he’s better than you. “You and your Mutts try to beat tha’”, his demeanor says as he walks away with his bandmates and you hate him for it.

It was a tough act to follow up. You know it as soon as you walk out on stage after your introduction. The air is hot where Hobie once stood, you can feel his energy still resonating there. You know he’s watching somewhere and you know you have to show him up for the sake of it. Your lips kiss the microphone Hobie once pressed his lips to and you hate that you can taste him there.

The crowd screamed along with the lyrics, music to your ears. How beautiful. Fucking beat that Hobie Brown.

You see him in the crowd with a drink in his hand, sipping away with a smirk on his face like something's fucking funny. If only you could slap it off his beautiful, smug face. You would as soon as you got off stage.

You and your bad breezed through your set. The crowd was alive in a way you’ve never seen before and it broke your heart to have to leave them. You turned your bass around behind your back and took a bow before thanking everyone for being such an amazing crowd for you. You watched Hobie turn and wade his way past people who slapped him on the back and feebly asked for an autograph to make his way backstage. He was undoubtedly coming just to taunt you.

As you and The Mutts came into the backstage lounge area, you departed with. “I’m going to my dressing room. I’ll see you guys in a minute.” Your drummer hummed with approval while your guitarist sent you off with a wave.

You made your way down the back all towards the dressing rooms. You opened the door only to find that Hobie was already there with his drink in hand and an insult already waiting on the tip of his tongue. “Ya slipped up there at the end. Was it cause o’ me? How unprofessional.”

“Hobie, you wouldn' know professionalism if it kicked you in the balls and told you your mother died at the same time. Get outta my face.” You sighed and reached into the pocket of your jacket for a loose lighter and a joint. You placed the joint between your lips, lit it, and took a drag. “You know whoever the club owner gives more money to tonight, he wants them to come back.”

Hobie scoffed. He sat on the mangy, gross couch as the door swung closed and you made your way over to the vanity to fix up your makeup. “O’ course ya only care ‘bout money, ‘ow contraire.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

“Only if yer there to kiss my arse while I do i’.”

It was usually like this. Your bands never liked each other but between them it was just glares and rough shoulder checks as the other passed. No one went at each other's throats the way you and Hobie did. You two were vicious, brutal, insults that would make the common man cry. But everyone knew better. There was a sort of camaraderie in your hatred for one another. Only you were allowed to hate him. You’d defend him with your life against someone else and in the same breath tell him his music was shit and he needed to quit.

“Either way, I’m getting that money.” Hobie settles, turning away like that’s the end of the matter. Your tongue swipes at your bottom lip before you nip it. “Says the man who plays the guitar like he can't find the clit.” You murmur and take another drag of your joint.

“Oh really?” Hobie began slowly, placing his cup down on the sticky floor before standing to his full height. He made his way over to you at the vanity, his hands grabbing the back of your chair when what he really want was to grip your shoulders, to touch you. “Would’ja like a demonstration? ‘m very good wit’ ma fingers. You know i’.” He looked at you through the mirror, leaning down so his face is next to yours.

You stare at him, search his eyes for a hint of malice or something, anything, but there's nothing but a true and genuine offer. He’d be more than happy to show exactly where your clit is.

Your lips pull into a scowl. “You’re fucking disgusting.” You say it to hide the fact that all you want is his hands on your body and those fingers to play with you the way he plays that guitar of his.

It’s the truth. You hide your burning desire for him behind your hatred, both equally as real as the other. He’s smug, shitty, sly, and sexy. You want to fuck him as much as you want to punch him, some days one more than the other.

Hobie placed his hand on your shoulders, massaging so gently. He tilted his head, placed his lips beside your ear. “Lemme know if ya ever wanna take me up on tha’ offer, dove.”

You stare at him, not sure if you want to kiss him or kill him, maybe a little bit of both. “Suck my dick, Hobie.”

“Sure, bet I can do tha’ better than ya too.”

“Get your fuckin’ hands off me and get out.”

Hobie finally relented, his hand sliding from your shoulders and back to his sides. “Fine. I’m pissin’ off. Don' forge’ ‘bout tha’ party on Saturday. Would be a damn shame if I don’ get a chance t’show ya up ‘gain.” He grabbed his drink and made his way to the door.

You couldn't stand him.

The party was already long going before you and The Mutts arrived. You were one to sniff out a good bottle of booze and went wandering to find it, your body in a perpetual state of compression by people on all sides. You wade through them with ease, leather jackets, spiked hair and all.

A proper punk party would be nothing without shitty beer and a stolen cop car to destroy.

You make your way to the center, all bats and spikes. Someone was on the hood of the car, bashing in the windshield until it completely fell through. You didn't realize it was Hobie until he hopped down from the hood and turned, grabbing the beer from your hand to take a sip. “Took ya long enough to join the party.” It seem he saw you far before you saw him.

“Can I have my shit back?” You snatched the bottle back from him. “Where the fuck did you guys get a cop car without the pigs getting on your asses?” It’s hard doing anything nowadays without the pigs sticking their ugly noses where they don't belong.

Hobie shrugged. “I ain' get i’. ‘m just here to fuck i’ up. Stop askin’ questions, are you joinin’ in or no’?”

Before either of you could do or say anything more, the car behind you was ablaze. Every window shattered, the very windshield wipers mashed through the back window, and now it was on fire. Someone had thrown a molotav cocktail inside of it and the entire thing caught on fire. Now it was a real punk party.

You figured the car would explode any time now, better to walk away before it blows and sears your eyebrows off. You take a swing from your bottle, grimacing at the bitter taste that's more akin to dog piss than anything else. Shitty bear. Proper punk.

You turn, ready to find your mates and maybe a stray joint floating around you can hog for yourself. Out in the distance you can hear the first ‘whoop’ of a police siren. You roll your eyes and finish out the rest of your beer in one gulp. “Are you fucking kidding me? I just got here.” You throw your bottle into the car fire.

The sirens come in blazing and a voice yells out that it's the cops. “Everybody scram!”

You look first for your bandmates but in a hoard like this, you’ll never find them. People are starting to run, yelling for everyone else to take off as well. They push past you while your eyes search frantically among their faces for your mates.

A hand grabs yours. You turn back to find Hobie there attempting to drag you away from where you stand in the mud. You thought he had already left, ran away with the rest of them. He was pulling you with him. “Wha’ the fuck are ya waitin’ for!?”

“My mates-”

You can see the suits approaching. They’re catching people, using batons to beat them down. They’re coming fast and you both know it. You’re panicking and Hobie’s still trying to get you to move your fucking legs.

He moves in front of you and holds your face between his large hands. “I need ya t'do me a favor and run. Ya can't help ya mates if yer dead or in a jail cell.” He pushed your shoulders, made you stumble back, snapped you out of your fixation.

You began to pick up your feet and run away. Your boots splattered in the mud, it stuck, made your feet heavier. You couldn't run as fast as normal. You’re stumbling, staggering, hands hitting the ground before pushing yourself back up. You know you’re going to get caught, it’s only a matter of time.

“I said get down!” That's all you hear before you’re tackled into the mud by an officer. He pins your arms to the Earth and you can hear the rattle of the handcuffs ready to clamp themselves down around your wrists. You try to fight but he holds just enough leverage over you that every elbow thrown was useless.

“Get the fuck off of me!” You fight because your very life depends on it. He’s smashing your face into the dirt rougher than necessary. “You’ve got nothing on me!” You writhed and kicked and screamed until suddenly the weight on you was gone and there was a thump and a grunt, a splatter in the mud.

Hobie was on top of the officer, fighting him, punching him, beating him into unconsciousness. You scrambled to your feet and watched him throw each punch with a grunt, teeth bared, eyes wild. You know if he keeps going he’ll kill the pig, not that you cared but he’d get into far more trouble than it's worth.

“Hobie, Hobie, come on.” You grabbed his hand before he could swing it down again, grabbed it besides all the blood and bruises. “They’re coming. We need to get outta here.” Your eyes plead for him to leave it alone. You couldn't care less about what happens to him, you tell yourself as much at least, but he saved you. It’s only fair and you don't like being indebted to people.

Hobie looked at you, then the cop on the ground, then back at you again. He stood and took your hand with his so gently. “Ma boat is on the dock up the way, come on.” He glanced back for a moment before the two of you began to run hand in hand. Hobie guides you out of the crowd in an entirely separate direction than everyone else. You run even though your feet ache, even though your heart is racing in your chest, even though you feel as though you can't breathe.

You only stop when you reach the dock where Hobie's boat is anchored. He leads you with bruised and battered hands to the canal boat at the end of the dock, a place where the two of you can call up your respective mates and make sure everyone is okay.

You’re covered in mud, wet, cold, shivering while you board Hobie’s boat. You wrap your arms around yourself and rock from heel to toe while Hobie shuffles about on his boat. He opens a door and looks back at you, “Ya comin’?” Your lips curled into a scowl as you let out a scoff. “I’m fine now, thanks. I can catch a cab back home.”

“Ya look like a wet dog. Come on.”

With a reluctant sigh, you follow him into his boathouse. It’s warm inside, immediately ceasing your shivering. It’s small, cozy, a bit cluttered but it’s not like your flat is any better. You hate to say that you like it but you do, you think it’s great, with his bed in front of a window that overlooks the bay.

You watch Hobie rummage about for clothes and all you can do is stare at his hands, hands that protected you, hands that fought for you, that drew blood for you. He defended you and fuck if it wasn’t hot. “I don’t need your pity.” You cover up the fact that you can feel yourself growing a little weak in the knees. If you hate him a little harder maybe it will make the feeling between your legs go away.

“No’ pity, jus’ bein’ a decent human-fuckin’-bein’,” he corrects you. “Wha’? Ya tink ‘m no’ capable of no good? I saved ya arse and ya sill bein’ a fuckin’ right cunt.” He comes close, he pokes your shoulder so hard that you move back a little, space that he closes once again.

The adrenaline is still running high. Your heart is still racing in your chest, slamming against your ribcage in a desperate attempt to claw its way out. You eat up the space between the two of you and shove him. “I only act like a cunt because you act like a dickhead!” You shove him again and he stumbles back before coming right back to you.

You breathe heavy, the both of you, staring. You keep glancing at his lips. Why do you keep glancing at his lips? Better question is why he keeps glancing at yours.

It was Hobie who leaned in and kissed you first. You could keep your dignity — keep your sanity — in knowing that you were not the one to make the first move. He kissed you hard and you kissed him back, kissed him harder. Your tongue found his lips and eagerly asked for permission for entrance. You needed him, needed his tongue against yours, need those hands that protected you against your skin.

Hobie parted his lips, let your tongue wander into his supple mouth and find his pierced tongue. It was hot, a little sloppy. You lick into his mouth and he licks into yours, your bodies pressing into the others while your slippery hands tug at each other's clothing. You swallow each breathless moan he sighs into your mouth, his hands sliding beneath your shirt. They’re cold, you shudder under his touch and he likes it. He smiled into the kiss. “Sum wrong?”

“Shut up.” You shudder out as his fingers breeze over you top surgery scars and brush your nipples that harden under his touch. His hands roam where they please, across your chest and down the curve of your back that arches with the tender touches of his fingertips. Your tongue lapped at his bottom lip, teeth nipping softly at the lip ring you spend hours staring at. “Just touch me.”

“Only touch ya?” Hobie teased with the idea. “Some heavy pettin’, yeah?”

“I’m still tryna decide if I wanna fuck you or not.”

Hobie kissed you again, tasting of piss poor beer and mint, a strange but delightful combination. “Dove, ya wanna fuck me. Ya wouldn' be here if ya didn't. Jus’ lemme treat ya good.” His hand pulled at the hem of your shirt and pulled it off of you in one swift motion. Those hands of his, they caressed your waists and hips while his lips traced a path down your neck. “Le's get rid of these clothes before ya make tha’ decision.”

You helped Hobie out of his clothes and he helped you out of yours, every piece of clothing leaving you a little hotter than the last. You trembled under his touch as he eased his hand over the band of your boxers. He slid his hand further south and cupped the mound of your pussy. “Ya ready to take me up on tha’ offer now?”

“I’ll punch you in the face.” You can’t stand his smugness but you can't say you don't like the way he pulls down your underwear then pulls down and pushes you back onto his bed. He pulls them off the rest of the way and tossed them to the side with the rest of your clothes. “Lemme give tha’ demonstration now.”

Hobie climbed onto the bed with you, on top of you. His hands protected you, his hands now tenderly caress you. His long fingers soothe down your naval and his lips kiss the curves of your scars. His body is pressed between your legs, his cock tapping your clit in just the right way to make you let out a fluttering moan.

Those hands, those hands that defended you, cupped your pussy again and his lips were on yours once more. He wanted to taste it, taste the surprise on your sweet lips when he dipped his long fingers between your supple lips and felt how wet you were. Your love let out a nice, creamy sound as he ran his fingers up and down from your wanton cunt to your aching clit.

You gasped into his mouth and Hobie took it, held it, tasted it, and loved it all in a single breath. He can't help but smile, to kiss you harder while he eased his middle finger into your lovely little cunt while his thumb rubbed circles into your firm clit. “Found ‘im, the lil shit.”

You reached between your two warm bodies, skin against skin in the best way possible, your hand sliding down his chest, his diaphragm, his naval, down to his length which rested on your belly and oozed precum onto you. You gathered up the growing little pool on your fingers and spread it across his throbbing tip, your finger circling his slit the same way he circled your rosebud.

Hobie let out something of a strangled groan into your mouth, fingers pausing for just a moment before resuming their torturous massage. “Yer sum else, y’know tha’?” He slipped his index finger in swiftly, the soft stretch making you hum sweet melodies of pleasure for him. He thumbed at your clit, swollen and pretty and begging for more, while your finger-stuffed cunt takes his fingers like it was always meant to.

You keep playing with his tip, dragging your feathery fingertips across the underside of the head, another sensitive spot that makes him react with another moan, lighter this time.

“I don't wanna have sex with you, Hobie.” You whisper like anything louder would break this precious moment. “But this isn't sex.” Not in your book.

“Hmm? Wha’cha call i’ then?”

“Heavy, heavy petting.”

Hobie can't stop himself from offering you a friendly chuckle. His fingers gently search for that sweet spot where he can get the most out of you, rubbing at your soft, gummy walls in a way that makes you arch your back and shiver. And when he finds that beautiful little spot, that spot that makes you moan his name in his ear, that makes your torture of his cock pause, he abuses it. Every thrust of his fingers, every curl, every rub targets that little soft ridge where your pleasure centers itself.

Your eyes flutter a bit. “Fuck– Hobie~ right– right there.” You tilt your hips in a way that gives him better access and it’s much appreciated. What’s even more appreciated it the way you’re softly jerking off his cockhead. The underside gently rubbing against the soft palm of your hand while your calloused fingers brush against the topside.

His hips rut. He lets out a pant, fingers still pounding away at your eager cunt. You’re both moaning into one another, soft, panting, desperate moans that feed into one another.

Hobie helped you up with a surprising amount of strength. Before you know it, your’re on top of him, his two digits still fucking your eager hole. It’s your turn to rut your hips, your legs straddling his, your hand stroking his tip so softly he might just cum right then and there.

Hobie let his free hand tenderly stroke over your soft throat, his knuckles still bruised and scabbing over. “Is this alrigh’?” The hand that nearly killed for you is so wonderfully soft for you. They rip at the guitar, they fight, they beat a man unconscious, but they’d never hurt you. You take his hand and settle it on your throat, nodding softly. You trust him, you trust him more than you like him. Punk camaraderie and all that jazz.

Hobie wraps his fingers around your neck, presses his palm against your throat gently, and kisses you again. “Ride ma fingers, yeah?” You nod again, too fucked up to come up with a witty response. You rock your hips, lifting and falling. Your hand holds his on your throat and you moan into his mouth.

Your thumb rubbed his slit and Hobie groaned. “Fuck– yeah~ jus’ like tha’. Ma good boy.” You don't even mind that he called you his because if this is what it felt like to belong to him then maybe you didn't mind it, you didn't mind it at all.

His thumb rubbed the side of your throat, his finger curled each time you fell on them, your creamy juices running down his knuckles and the defined tendons of his hands. “Fuck, messy lil ting.” His thumb rubbed your clit with vigor. You couldn't stand it. You were losing your mind.

“Please, please, please,” you babbled. “‘m gonna cum.” Your hand raced up and down the length of his cock. “You’re gonna cum with me, yeah?” You play with his tip, stroke just the head, and his cock twitches. He’s close too, you can tell.

Hobie chuckled breathlessly. “Cumming together…’ow romantic.” The baritone of his voice makes the feeling within you build. His voice, his hands, his beauty. You kissed him, suckled on his tongue before licking it. It was filthy, disgusting really and you both loved it more than either of you cared to admit.

Your body rolled with the beginnings of your climax, your pussy quivering around his lengthy digits. “Cum for me, cum for me, please.” You wanted it, needed it. Skin against skin, flesh for flesh, two pretty bodies finding the height of pleasure at the same time, together. Punk camaraderie.

Cumming at the same time was quite the intimate experience, something you’d never thought you’d share with the likes of Hobie Brown. But here he was, cumming ribbons against your chest and belly while the rest oozes down your knuckles. You're dripping down his knuckles too, only fair, just as good.

You’re seeing double, he’s seeing stars, you’re both delirious and in need of the other. Sloppy kisses and breezing sighs of relief. Wet fingers slip out of you and hold your waist while he tongues at your mouth.

Your mind felt hazy, you leaned into Hobie and let him embrace you when any other day you would have died before you let him touch you so softly. You’ve shoved each other, pinched, poked, even bit, but never embraced.

“Thank you for protecting me.” You whisper, sheepishly so. You roll off of him and onto his bed. He leaned over and laid down with you, an arm wrapped around you, his hips between your legs. “Couldn' have ya beaten or arrested now. Wha’ would tha’ make me?”

“A proper asshole.”

“A proper asshole.” He echoed. “Lemme get something to clean ya up wit’ then ya can call ya mates.” He turned your head and kissed you once again, tenderly, quickly before getting up and grabbing his underwear or was that yours? He put them on and opened a sliding door to a small bathroom.

Hobie came back, wiping his hand with a wet cloth. He used it to wipe his cum from your chest. He let you clean between your own legs, not wanting to overstep his already overstayed welcome.

“Hobie–” You began while he settled back into bed. You stood up to get whatever underwear was left and put it on. “If we’re doing…this. Let’s keep it between us. You know our mates will lose it.”

He shrugged. “Fine by me. Like ma relationships private anyway.”

“Not a relationship, dickhead.”

“Yeah yeah, whateva.” He sat up and grabbed your hand, pulling you back onto his bed with him. You land right in his hold, your flesh against his, your lips against his as well. You could do this forever.

“Stay the nigh’.” Hobie’s hand brushed your cheek. His gaze was persuasive and you were in no position to decline. You sighed, rolled away from him only to be rolled back.

“I still hate you.”

“‘m sure ya do, love. Sure ya do.”

#hobie smut #hobie x reader #hobie brown #hobie x black!reader #hobie x ftm!reader #hobie x trans!reader #hobie brown my love #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x black!reader #hobie brown x ftm!reader #hobie brown x you #hobie brown smut

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kalims · 2 years

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kiss your best friend | heartslabyul

kiss your best friend and see how they react!

parts. one, two, three, four, five, six, seven

characters. riddle, trey, cater, ace, deuce.

includes. gn reader who can be seen as either yuu or another alternative universe.

cw. kissing? mutual pining, crack.

note. those tiktoks where the bsf is straight outta wattpad /j reminder that the event poll will be closed on sunday ust+8

riddle rosehearts

expectedly turns very red.

just stares at you in the most flabbergasted way possible, looks at your lips then snaps his gaze back to your face again and again.

probably is too stunned to speak but when he swallows the bile in his throat, "what in the world are you doing?!" seriously though. he has so many questions.. why, when, what that he wants you so answer ASAP.

in complete denial that you admit to wanting to do it then apologizing if it took him by suprise.

sensing that you feel dejected by his negative reaction he's quick to assure you, in a mixture of shyness and shame he avoids your gaze. "you can't just go around kissing other people so suddenly! urgh.. atleast let me take you to dinner first.."

trey clover

blinks but looks pleased nonetheless.

well he certainly didn't expect that. in the years you've been side by side he had his suspicions that you felt the same but never acted on it.

spares you this handsome, killer smile as he leans in again. trey's quick to adjust to the indirect confession you just did so since you made the first move he supposes its his turn next.

he does applaud you for your bravery. trey doesn't know if he'd ever have the courage to do so if you didn't. "you're quite bold." he chuckles, thoroughly enjoying the tough exterior you put up despite you probably flustered inside.

"mind if I get another taste?" sir this isn't you tasting out bakery treats—

cater diamond

consider him shocked for once!

legit paused and recoiled back from your kiss, peck(?), whatever suited you best but you can't blame him! he thought it was like the "oh my god they were roommates thing"

wait a minute it feels like be just got slapped by reality. did you actually just kiss him?!

probably remembering he's still gaping at you he flashes you a rare, seemingly genuine smile. "sooo... what are we now?"

"friends with benefits?" you joke.

"oh. not what I had in mind but that's alright with me!"

"cater i was joking."

ace trapolla

visible disgust.

even goes as far as to wipe off the kiss wherever you placed your lips on it.

stares at you with a feigned weirded out look but no matter how far 'faking it till' he makes it goes' he's ultimately unable to hide the red ears from you.

if you try to point it out he'll only respond with vigorous shakes and something along the lines of feeling too good for yourself.

^ in serious denial but still wants more.

"that was disgusting.. I'm gonna be sick." ace blanches then fakes a hurl. "—do it again,"

deuce spade

shocked & flustered^tm (I'm too lazy to put the symbol bye)

slowly backs away and grips his mouth (kinda like tamaki at that once scene LOL) while slowly turning pink. not red because red is riddle's thing and no one can do riddle's thing.

is too shy and his mind is going a thousand million miles an hour <- exaggerated cause it's deuce.

the definition of "WTH OMG AKVSJABAJS" + inner crisis mode activated, I knew he was an idia kinnie somewhere deep there

pledges to you that he will be the man in the relationship, the pants, the— insert weird analogies.

loves u now and idk why he's going so fast. would probably not marry anyone else because boy is DEDICATED now.

#ㅤ◜◡◝ . . signed !#twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twst #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland imagines #riddle rosehearts x reader #riddle rosehearts #trey clover x reader #trey clover #ace trapolla x reader #ace trapolla #cater diamond #cater diamond x reader #deuce spade x reader #deuce spade #x reader #x gn reader

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peeweekey · 13 days

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cliff talk | sebastian x reader

word count: 2.1k

summary: sebastian brings you on a ride.

tags: emotional hurt/comfort, slight angst, dialogue heavy, sebastian and reader have a heart to heart

a/n: i never thought i'd be writing for the emo boy but here i am. hope you guys liked this as much as i liked writing this! :D

Like the green rain phenomenon or the cute little junimo creatures that live in the community center, there’s always something new to experience in the valley. As odd as it might be.

Hunched over, tending to your crops—is like living in wait, the calm before the storm, the thrum of anticipation as you await the next exciting thing.

Like today—now.

“Ah, there you are.”

The garden shears in your hands are dropped into the thick down crawl of growing fruit. You look up, squinting your eyes due to the warm beat of dying sunlight.

“Sebastian?” you pause, looking up at him from your spot amongst growing melon vines. Your overalls smeared with dirt and damp with sweat—this is the last state you’d want to be seen in.

“Hey farmer,” The keys dangling from his index finger jingle as he gives you a close-lipped smile. “Wanna go for a ride?”

—

The place Sebastian stops at is quiet.

But not in the way most people think—the valley is never quiet, birds chirping, the breeze singing through tall grass and the rustle of branches swaying slowly. You’re aware of the sounds in the recesses of your mind.

The view is breath-taking.

The sun set long before you arrived on Sebastian’s cliff side spot. It’s cool and grassy, ticking your ankles as you walk through the field. The air, no longer warm but a cool breeze that you greedily inhale.

You stop right before the edge, there’s a big drop that you'd rather not slip and fall into. Zuzu city lay just under the horizon, a smatter of light in the otherwise now-dark forest. A cluster of flashing lights that remind you of stars—that have fallen and gathered from the night sky.

“Amazing, I know.” Sebastian says, a few steps behind you. He’s leaning against his bike, staring at the same view as you. “Zuzu city is miles from here, but there’s so much light—you can see it even from high up.”

You fold your arms, turning your back at the view—facing him. “Well, it is nicer from afar.”

Sebastian gives you a look, then nods his head to the grassy patch behind him. “Mhm. Let’s sit?”

You settle down together, side by side. You, him, and his motorbike beside him—there’s barely any space between your legs. You feel the warmth of proximity—so close. What you’d give to bridge that gap once and for all.

“Want a drink?” he asks, pulling out a beer bottle from his hoodie pocket—your brow raises, a miracle it didn’t break on the way. “Only got one though.”

You shrug, taking the bottle. It’s warm—warmed by his body heat. “S’okay with me. We’ll just have’ta share.”

He looks at you, eyes momentarily flickering to your lips as you use your teeth to pop the bottle cap off. “I guess we do.”

—

The beer is settling warmly low in your stomach, loosening every tightly wound muscle in your body. You feel weightless, the edges of your mind made fuzzy.

“I’ve been savin’ up a lot,” he suddenly says, picking absentmindedly at the blades of grass underneath him. “Almost have enough too. Once I do, I’m skipping outta this town on my bike.”

You nod your head. “It is a pretty cool bike.”

“Mhm,” he drawls, patting the side of his motorcycle—almost lovingly. “It’s gonna take me all the way to Zuzu city.”

“Zuzu city,” you repeat slowly, feeling the sound of the words in your mouth. It’s unpleasant, Zuzu city is a place you’d rather leave behind. You look down at the view of it, squinting. “Why go there?”

He pauses, inhaling the cool night air deeply. His fingers itch—like they’re searching for the comforting hold of cigarettes he so enjoys.

A part of you wishes you didn’t ask. Difficult conversations and cliff sides don’t mesh well together, you think. You don’t dare move a muscle as you wait for him, your eyes drifting back to the glittering light-filled view of Zuzu city.

“It’s suffocating here—everything about the valley,” he replies mirthlessly. “I live in the basement of my mom’s house for fuck’s sake. I know how she looks at me, like she could’ve done so much more to make me less of a shitbag. Maybe she could’ve, I don’t care. It’s way too late now.”

A low whistle escapes past your lips. You swirl the beer bottle loosely in your grip. “I see…”

Sebastian narrows his eyes at you, scoffing. “You’re pretty shit at comforting words, y’know that?”

“Harsh,” you look at him quizzically, shoving the beer bottle into his hands. He accepts it immediately. “What do you want me to say, Seb?”

“Nothing,” he smirks, downing a generous gulp of beer, the bottle is a little less than half full now. “‘m just teasing. Don’t gimme that look. I didn’t want comfort anyway, I’ve had enough of that. I want you to tell me the stone cold truth.”

“Promise not to get pissed off?”

Sebastian clicks his tongue against his teeth, then smiles. “Depends on what you say.”

“Wow, guess I’ll have to lie.” you joke.

“Hey—”

“Kidding.” You laugh softly at his pinched expression. His eyes narrowed—lacking any real aggression—at you as you poke harmless fun.

You grin, slowly turning back to the view. “You won’t find yourself there,” you say simply, taking a slow sip of beer, the smoothness of it running smoothly down your throat. “Believe me, I’d know.”

Sebastian turns to face you, irritation spelled out in every feature of his face.

“Smartass…”

“Hey, you asked for the stone cold truth,” you lift your fingers into air quotations to emphasize your point.

“Tch. Tell me this then. If I can’t find myself there, or here in the valley. Where the hell do I go?”

You pause, clicking the bottle with your nails idly. He’s irritated obviously. But you think more frustrated and confused than anything.

You sigh, then smile. The valley hasn’t been the kindest to its resident shut-in.

“Mid-life crisis at 24,” you tease gently, poking at his side. Sebastian shoots you a heatless glare. “Don’t worry too much Seb, your hair is gonna turn gray.”

“Ha-ha,” he replies sourly. “You talk as if that isn’t the same reason you moved to the valley.”

“Hey, I gave a generous amount of my life to Joja,” you snort, shifting your feet into a better resting position. “I paid my dues over there before I found some semblance of peace here.”

“I can’t just sit around and wait my whole life.”

“Then don’t,” you reply simply. “God knows I wish I followed my dear old gramps’ footsteps sooner.”

“It isn’t that simple.”

“Yep. It isn’t. It does get easier though.”

“You say it so easily.”

“Sometimes, it just is.” you reply. “Only sometimes, though.”

For all you remember, your grandfather absolutely adored the valley, though he couldn’t convince you in the height of your angsty teenage phase to do the same. You’re long past that now, life didn’t go as planned and you ended up right where your grandfather said you would be.

Funny, how fate works so mysteriously, so weirdly.

You shake that thought away, turning to Sebastian—who has the same contemplative expression as you.

He’s silent, thinking. His fingers grasping and twirling the drawstrings of his hoodie. “You never told me the story.”

“Well,” you purse your lips, handing him the bottle. He drops the drawstrings to grab it. A wordless agreement between the two of you to share what remains of the liquid. “You n’ver asked.”

“I wanna hear it,” he says, looking at you at the corner of his glittering obsidian eyes. “please?”

“How polite,” you laugh, he lightly hits you on the back of your head with his palm. “Ouch. No need to be rough w’me, I’ll tell you.”

You clear your throat with an obnoxious ahem. “Once upon a time…”

“—C’mon farmer, stop messing around. I wanna know your story,” he interjects, and it almost sounds like a plea. “No theatrics.”

Your lips flatten into a grim line. He’s being unusually insistent on the topic. But now that you think about it, you haven’t told anyone why you moved into the farm. Not your mother, not your father, and definitely not anyone else in Pelican Town.

Sebastian may be your first, you think to yourself—innuendo unintended.

You hug your arms closer to your chest, the cool draft sliding over your skin—making you shiver. No better way to battle the uncomfortable situation with an even more uncomfortable conversation. You take a deep breath.

“I was a fresh graduate when I started working at Joja—worked my way up from customer service to marketing. Crazy, right?” you chuckle, though it sounds hollow even to you. “All the pretentious proposals I would write and those useless meetings that’d take forever. There wasn’t a day where I didn’t hate my 20 year old self for starting at Joja. 5 years down the fucking drain when I quit. Let me tell you, it’s the best decision I made in my stupid corporate slave life.”

Sebastian says nothing, he hands the bottle back to you, which you take a generous swig of. You grip the bottle tightly around its neck, the warm feeling of alcohol loosening your tongue.

You exhale deeply through your nose. “I was in my cubicle when I just ‘bout had enough—by the way, I hate that they’re called cubicles, I felt like a number in some executive’s spreadsheets instead of a living breathing person.” all that talking and your throat itches for more of the sweet burn of alcohol—you oblige it with another weighty gulp. “Grandpa left me this letter, told lil’ old me not to open it until I really, really needed to. Now that I think of it, he knew.”

Your voice cracks by the end of it. Your tongue feels way too thick for your mouth. And your eyes blur—there seems to be twice as many stars as usual.

Sebastian stays quiet, reflective even. Though his hands have stilled, and he feels closer than he was earlier. It’s warmer, you think.

If he asks, you’ve decided you’ll blame it on the alcohol.

—

You and Sebastian talk for hours after, the bottle of beer being passed between the both of you too often. You feel a tad tipsy—having drank the lion’s share of beer. Your head lolls onto your arms as you talk about everything then nothing.

There’s a fair moment of silence that blankets the two of you after—certainly not uncomfortable. You feel Sebastain knows the fact more than anyone. He seems to thrive in the quiet moments.

“I don’t think I’m leaving the valley any time soon, though,” he says softly, breaking the tranquil silence.

So he’s been thinking. “Why so?”

He shrugs his shoulders, taking the final sip of beer that finishes the bottle. “Something’s makin’ it worth staying a little longer.” His eyes meet yours, albeit for a second—before he refocuses on the cliff side view.

Ah, you understand.

Suddenly, alcohol isn’t the only thing making you feel so warm. You thank the stars for the dark, for hiding any warm pinkness in your expression. You smile, more to yourself than anything. Taking the bottle from him, brushing your fingers over his perpetually cold ones.

The bottle is lighter than it was at the beginning of the night—your shoulders too, less achy, less stiff. With all that weight off of them, you can afford to be less wound up.

You tip the bottle over the grass, nothing but a single drop comes out. You watch it fall and drop into the grass. “Good. This something thinks you’ll come to like it even.”

Sebastian tilts his head, a tentative smile playing on his lips. “That’s presumptive.”

You shrug, smirking. “I have a sense for this type of stuff.”

“Really now?”

“Mhm. I don’t just lie for no reason. And my senses are telling me you’ll be alright.”

You hear the silent hitch of his breath, the momental widening of his eyes and the tremble in his jaw. It saddens you slightly, no one has probably reassured him of it before.

God knows you needed some while working at Joja, you’re just returning your dues to the universe—and to him.

He laughs softly, and bitterly. His fingers twitch again—for that darn cigarette. “God, I sure hope so.”

Sebastian will be just fine, you know that. And it’s about time he knew it too.

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knottyk · 2 years

Text

Caught in the Act

Pairings: Eddie x Henderson!Fem!Reader

Word count: 1.3k

Summary: Eddie cancels the campaign and Dustin, along with Mike and Lucas, wants to know what is so important to tear the strict Dungeon Master away from his beloved club.

Warnings: implied sexual themes, profanity, um idk let me know if i missed anything lol

edit: crying over how sweet everyone is! And my first post to reach 1k notes accckkkkk!!

The campaign that was originally set for tonight had been pushed for whatever reason and the gang had nowhere else to go. They had already let their parents know that they’ll be out late so why waste the chance for some late night exploring?

“What if we go to The Hideout. It’s a popular hang out spot now, right?” Lucas kicked a pebble from under his sneakers.

“I bet Eddie’s there. Think of it.” Dustin nodded as he tried to convince the other two. “He never moves the meetings for anything or anyone. Gives us shit for not attending and suddenly he’s not free tonight? I call bull.”

“We’ll catch him in the act. Then he won’t have anything on us next time.” Lucas agreed as his palm met Dustin’s and they chuckled in excitement.

“And what if he’s not there?” They both turned to Mike who had his hands stuffed in his pockets, shrugging.

“Then he’s not there! We’ll just come back to your place and, I don’t know, do something. Besides, I’ll need a ride home from Y/N. She’s doing some project with Nancy.”

With a half-assed back up plan, the trio set off towards the infamous pub in their Hellfire shirts. The place was littered with people both young and old.

They walked into the place with heads held high as people they recognised from school watched them tread like they owned the place. In addition to being a school night, they were also freshmen. What better way to earn the cool points by being seen at a place as intimidating as The Hideout.

“Let’s just see if he’s here and get outta here.” Mike slightly yelled over the loud music playing in the background, lungs already clouded by the nearby smoke by several lit cigarettes.

They quickly scanned the place but it didn’t take long to spot the messy mop of hair that stood out in all of Hawkins.

“Eddie! You lying son of a bitch!” Dustin yelled as they jogged toward the bar, laughing. “We got you!”

At first, Eddie was confused as to why he’s hearing the freshman’s voice at a place he never expected to but his emotion was quickly replaced with an obvious panic as he turned to address the boys without fully turning his body away from the bar.

With a tight lipped smile, he spoke. “Henderson, what are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be in bed in like, what? Twenty minutes?”

He looked at his wristwatch as he fixed a few strands of hair stuck to his face and mouth, his bangs slightly stuck to his forehead with sweat.

“Aren’t we supposed to be doing the campaign?” They crossed their arms as they examine him with shit eating grins etched on their faces. They caught him.

“Well, things happen and you know… things happened.”

As Eddie somewhat explained, Dustin’s eyes linger on the pair of legs dangling over Eddie’s hips. He couldn’t see anything else as the person ducked behind Eddie’s broad back. He tried peering over but Eddie was quick to block him.

Though Dustin quickly realised that he didn’t need to see who it was to know. It was those pristine white sneakers he loathed seeing resting in the shoe racks by the front door. He’d always wanted to smear the underside of his shoes on your white ones just so it wasn’t so clean.

Though he knew you’d kill him because they were your favorite pair. The one you always wore with the stupidly coordinated outfits to school as his friends snickered at him about you being neat and presentable while he was the other way around.

The type to be recognised from a crowd of people. The type to be lined up with the likes of Nancy Wheeler and Chrissy Cunningham. The good, perfect girls of Hawkins High.

“Y/N?” He blurted out and despite the loud music, you heard him clearly. Mike and Lucas shifted their gaze between Dustin, Eddie and eventually, you.

Over Eddie’s shoulder, you waved. “Dustin! Funny seeing you here.”

Eddie finally parted with the bar and stepped to the side with his hand on his nape while you jump off from the counter, smoothing over your skirt that rode up your leg.

“What the hell, Y/N? Aren’t you supposed to be with Nancy?” Dustin was frantic.

Tonight was all about catching their strict dungeon master knee deep in his hypocritical bullshit but what he found was like stepping on a lego or cow shit. Either way, he was disgusted by the idea of whatever you and eddie were doing when they arrived or even before they arrived.

“Look, I think we’re all somewhere we’re not supposed be tonight.” You put a hand on his shoulder as you looked Mike and Lucas in the eye.

Their eyes darted everywhere else except yours. Maybe it was the fact that they know they’re not supposed to be in an adult-only place or the fact that your bra was peeking from your unbuttoned shirt that was now all scrunched up. Who knows?

“You’re not telling on me are you, Dusty?” You ask your brother who had is mouth agape.

“I mean, The Hideout is not really the place mom would be thrilled to see you in either. You and I would be in great trouble and you can kiss that free trip to Utah goodbye.” You nod slowly as you laid out the facts. “Think about it.”

You promised to be Dustin’s ride to Utah during the spring break in exchange for him covering for your ass from the many times he caught your bedroom empty and windows opened during unholy hours of the night. He didn’t question it then.

Dustin peered behind you and saw Eddie leaning on the bar where you sat earlier. His lips curved in what looked to be an apologetic smile. Upon seeing Dustin’s face, he let out a two finger salute.

Eddie had thought of the many ways he’d let the secret loose on your little brother but this was not one of the ideal scenarios. Somehow, he felt bad for the way it turned out but glad that the cat’s out of the bag.

Dustin sighs and nods.

“Good.” You take off his cap and shuffle his curly hair, earning a groan. “Be home by 10.”

“Eleven.” He bargained, sizing up to you.

Considering tonight’s events, you thought of letting him off easy.

“And lunch is on you for a month.”

“No.”

“Two months.”

“No.”

“A week.”

“Fine.”

With that, they hurried out of the bar, pushing one another to get out as fast as they could. You could hear them talk amongst themselves as they ran out.

“Holy shit, Eddie’s dating your sister.”

“Holy shit, Eddie’s dating my sister.”

“Wait, does that mean she’s the hot girlfriend Eddie was talking about.”

The gushing drowned out and you face Eddie who was sipping at his canned beer.

“We scarred him.” He chuckled. “I’m never gonna hear the end of this.”

“You talk about me?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know, is that bad?”

You nodded as you caged him with your arms at either side of the counter.

“Looks like you got it bad, Munson.”

You catch his lips with yours, slick with a tinge of bitterness from the beer but it drowns in the sweet taste of Eddie’s soft lips. His bottom lip caught in between your teeth as he let out a groan, hands smoothing over the arch of your back.

Like no one was watching, you guide Eddie’s hands further past what is considered appropriate in a public setting.

He jerks his hand away while looking around, checking for any watchful eyes as the scene unfolded. You cup his cheek and put his hand back on the curve of your ass, skirt starting to ride up your leg once more as you spread them slightly to make way for Eddie in between.

“I have to go back on stage in five.” He whispers, hot breath fanning your face.

“Then, I guess we’d have to be quick.”

You don’t know how you’ll face your brother over breakfast tomorrow like nothing happened the night before. But you let the thoughts of tomorrow fly over your head as you were already pulling Eddie to one of the empty bathroom stalls.

masterlist

a/n: haha omg i was washing the dishes when i thought of this. when i tell you i stopped my chores to write this asap. i'd forget in a second if i didn't <3

#eddie imagine #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie x y/n #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x henderson!reader #eddie munson x henderson!reader #eddie fluff #eddie smut #dustin henderson #dustin x sister!reader #stranger things x fem!reader #stranger things x you #stranger things x y/n

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auteurdelabre · 2 months

Text

A Little Sun Part 3.1 - Dieter!Bravo x f!Reader

part one / part two

rating: 18+ (MINORS GET OUTTA HERE OR I'M TELLIN' YOUR MAMAS)

Story Summary: As a PA to megastar and mega man-child Dieter Bravo you've had your fair share of headaches. Getting accidentally pregnant with his baby however takes the cake, especially when he offers to pay you to be his surrogate. You just weren't expecting to fall in love with him along the way.

tags: Surrogacy, Pregnancy, Body changes re: pregnancy, Mutual Pining, Idiots in love, P in V, Dirty talk, Unprotected Sex, Romance, Oral (f receiving), Cigarettes, Drugs, Mentions of Parental Death, Vulnerable Dieter, Vulnerable Reader.

a/n: y'all I'm really annoyed because tumblr won't let me post the entire chapter in one post because of whatever reason. So if you wanna read it all in one go, I'm posting it to my A03.

dividers by @silkholland

A LITTLE SUN

You burst into the house, kicking off your shoes and throwing your purse down onto the couch. Dieter looks up from his place on the chaise longue by the fireplace.

"What?"

"Some old guy in the coffee shop overheard I was pregnant and he told me that I shouldn't drink decaf coffee and then he touched my fucking stomach."

"What?" Dieter is immediately on his feet, fists curling. A strange feeling has passed over him, this protective and strangely possessive feeling. You're his. You're carrying his baby.

"Yeah and I was in such shock that I just let him. I fucking hate this," you say pressing your lips together tightly as you exhale through your nose. "As soon as your pregnant people suddenly feel like they have the right to touch you and give you unsolicited advice. It's so gross."

"I'm sorry," Dieter says, fighting the urge to touch your stomach himself.

It's barely even three months and you're not showing. He hasn't actually touched you anywhere other than your hand since that first time he cradled your stomach.

You see the way his dark eyes dart from your stomach to your face and back again. Can see the twitching in his fingertips as he thinks about it.

"You can touch it," you tell him. "You won't feel anything but you can touch it."

Dieter is immediately at your side, his wide hand going to your belly. You'd expected him to go over the shirt so when his hand slides up your t-shirt to rest over your bare skin you're surprised.

You go to say something but you still when you see his face. His eyes are closed, brows saddled in concentration. It's impossibly sweet. And there's something comforting about his warm palm on your skin, a feeling you can't quite place.

"Wish I could feel him moving."

"Won't be for a few months yet," you tell him.

Dieter gives a thoughtful hum in response. His thumb slowly drags across your skin and you feel your breathing hitch for a moment. Up close you see the length of his dark lashes, the fullness of his mouth. Has he always been this handsome? Or is it the hormones?

You pull his hand from under your shirt. "Okay that's enough."

“I said I am.”

“I never see you with it.”

“Jesus, Dieter! Do you want me to pull it out of my room?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake.”

You storm into your bedroom, grabbing the yellow object from beside your bed and bringing it back into the living room where your boss/surrogate benefactor is waiting with his arms crossed.

“I told you, I put it on my belly every night. The baby hears your fucking Bravo mix tape every goddam night.”

“Every single night?” Dieter says disbelief. “What about Friday? You came home super late from that PA after works drink thing.”

“Dieter it was eleven when I got in,” you say rolling your eyes. “Besides, I don’t think the baby will suffer if it misses one or two-“

“I KNEW IT!” Dieter shouts animatedly. “You did skip a few days!”

In all honesty you’ve skipped plenty of days. Wearing those stupid fucking headphones over your belly is uncomfortable and boring as shit. You always read when you wear them because sleeping on your back is something you want to save for when you have no other choice. But lately you’ve been more tired and reading has been swapped for more sleeping.

Dieter looks beside himself as he begins pacing up and down the hallway, muttering to himself about being lied to. You recognize the signs almost immediately, shocked you overlooked them so easily before. Dieter is anxious. While most curl into or sequester themselves away, Dieter has always been a ball of anxiety that lashes out, fixating on everything other than himself.

“Dieter.”

“What?”

“What are you anxious about?”

Dieter pauses, face contorted into a defensive pose, lower lip stuck out. You almost hear his petulant: I’m not anxious. But the longer he stares at you the longer he realizes that you know him better than most. He just shakes his head, unable to formulate what has his insides doing a tap dance.

“I know something’s wrong,” you tell him as you shuffle over to him and he’s relieved and thankful to see there’s no animosity there in the depth of your eyes. Without thinking you reach out and take one of his hands in yours and he notes your palm is freezing.

“Nothing,” he mutters to himself. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

He sees the hurt pass over your face for a fraction for a second and he’s quick to clasp your hand tightly. “Is that okay?”

“Of course,” you say, retracting your hand. “Why don’t you go in the studio and paint for a bit? Enjoy your day off.”

Dieter nods, padding off to his workspace while you give a sigh. You can tell something is up with him, even if he doesn’t want to admit it. It makes you ache for him in a way, knowing that he’s holding something so close to the chest. Normally he tells you everything.

By four months you need to fuck something.

Toys aren't cutting it. You need a good fucking. You’ve decided that Josh will be a nice choice. You two have been fooling around a bit on set when you’re not being ordered around by Dieter who suddenly seems to need you every second you’re there.

So far it’s all over the pants stuff with Josh; mostly because you’re paranoid he’ll see your bare stomach and declare you pregnant. You don’t know why this concerns you, you don’t even look pregnant. Maybe a slightly swollen quality, but only you or Dieter (or your Mom!) would know the difference.

He doesn’t like you hanging around Josh and you can only assume it’s because Dieter doesn’t like to share his toys. You’re having his baby and so in his mind he gets to dictate everything. It’s fucking driving you insane.

You decide to approach Dieter about it directly, not wanting to bother the lawyer with this sort of thing. It seems embarrassing to have to go about it in this fashion, almost as if you have to ask permission for something quite personal. But this scenario is new and you’re not exactly what’s within the realm of appropriate.

You find him painting in one of the rooms, cigarette hanging out of his mouth as he listens to some strange grunge band from Japan. You lower the volume as you enter.

"Can we talk?"

Dieter turns, brows raised. "What's up?"

You look nervous, face warm and your fingers nervously drumming at your side.

"Dieter, we uh, we never talked about one thing in the contract."

Dieter lowers the paintbrush, going to the sink to wash his hands as he waits for you to continue.

"What's that?'

Fuck you feel awkward about this. How do you mention to your boss that you wanna go get laid? Your cheeks are heating and you nudge your toe absently against the doorframe.

"Uh, if it was okay if I wanted to go out with someone?"

"You want to date someone?" Dieter looks horrified, the cigarette dropping from his gaped mouth onto the floor. He retrieves it quickly, tossing it into the sink behind him before turning back to fix you with a glare. "I've known you for two years and you've gone on maybe three dates in all that time. Now you're pregnant and suddenly you want a boyfriend?"

"Not a boyfriend," you say quietly. "Just uh... a…"

"A hook-up?"

"Yeah."

"No fucking way!" Dieter insists much too forcefully for a man who tries to continually convince himself that he doesn’t want to fuck you himself. "Too dangerous! You could end up with a creep! What about the baby?!"

You roll your eyes. "Obviously I would be careful."

"No," Dieter shakes his head. "Too risky. What if they find out you work for me and ransom you?"

“It’s some-“ you stop yourself from giving too much away. “It’s not risky. I feel safe about it.”

“Well I don’t.”

A stand off about who you can fuck. Is this a joke?

"Dieter I'm really just giving you a heads up as a courtesy," you say icily. "You don’t control what goes in my vagina.”

Dieter blinks back his surprise a moment. You’ve never spoken to him like that. He can only assume that this is pregnancy hormones so he lets it slide. However, he’s still irritated about that annoying Josh hanging all over you. You turn to walk away from him.

"Well then as your boss," Dieter bites back, "I'm telling you that you can't fuck your little PA friend."

You stop your walking, turning to face him with a face contorted in rage.

"What?"

"You think I'm blind?" Dieter scoffs as he lights a fresh cigarette. "You think I don’t see you and that PA Josh making eyes at each other?”

You hate how he says PA, like Josh is pathetic for having the very job you yourself have. Not shocking – has Dieter ever really seen you as more than an extension of himself? More than the woman who plans his days and picks up his dry cleaning? Never.

"Dieter who else is there? He's the only single, straight guy near my age in this town!”

Dieter just stares at you, the end of his cigarette a red flare in the semi darkness. You throw up your hands in irritation, giving a growl and walking into your bedroom, slamming the door behind you.

///

BabiEDucate

15 weeks

Cravings: DICK. Also pickles - Related?

Missing: SEX. GETTING FUCKED.

You try not to let the sex thing override the rest of your enjoyment of this beautiful land. Ireland is stunning from the moment you wake up until you go to bed. You’ve met the nicest people on set, you and the makeup girls go to the pub every Friday. You always order for the group and you always lie and say you’re having a rum and coke, but it’s really just a coke.

You think about inviting Josh over here tonight. So far it's been frantic kissing against pub walls and one remarkably disappointing phone sex experience that left you more frustrated than anything.

You're just so paranoid he's going to be able to tell you're pregnant that you've been holding back.

Plus there’s the whole Dieter thing.

“Mia and Dieter are working on a night scene tomorrow night,” Josh murmurs to you as you hang to the side one afternoon on set. You’re both hidden away from the actors who had broken for lunch. “Should give us plenty of time if we want to hang out.”

“Hang out?” you say with a flirtatious smirk up at him. “Is that what the kids are calling it?”

“Fucking your brains out then?” Josh huffs against your ear as goosebumps rise along your neck.

“Sounds great,” you nod.

“Let’s go to yours,” Josh suggests. “Mia and the crew are at some fancy hotel and they’ve all got big mouths. Dieter’s the big movie star with his own rental.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow at seven.”

///

Everything you own is ugly.

Plus you have a headache. Plus you look bloated and your tits fucking ache. You pull at the tights and cute babydoll dress you threw on hours ago because it was the only thing you owned that sort of hides the growing expansion of your midsection and isn’t sweatpants. You look at yourself in the bathroom mirror, applying some lip-gloss before sighing.

All this work just to get laid.

You look down at your stomach, frowning as you mutter quietly. “You’re already a pain in the ass and you’re barely bigger than a bell pepper.”

You give a roll of your eyes at yourself in the mirror before flicking off the lights and heading back out to the kitchen. Josh sits there with a beer giving you an expectant smile as you approach.

Dinner was nice enough (he brought thai food), the conversation free-flowing. You told Josh you didn’t want to drink since you had a bit of a migraine. Not a total lie. He brought you flowers, which is incredibly kind and also annoying because you’ll have to hide them in your room lest Dieter see them.

But you don’t want flowers and wine and seduction. You thought you’d already laid the groundwork for that. But here Josh is trying to ask questions about your family and life back home and all you can think about is the minutes ticking by where you’re not getting fucked.

“Let’s move to the couch,” you suggest casually. “I think I have a documentary on sharks recorded.”

“Yeah, lets,” Josh says smiling eagerly.

There we go.

Within minutes the two of you are on the couch making out. Josh has one leg between yours, his hands on either side of your face. He’s muttering something about how good you feel but you’re distracted, concerned that he can feel your stomach.

You wonder if you could suggest doggy style. That's the only position you think could work where he wouldn't see your stomach. You thought about passing it off as a food baby, but you don't want to take the chance.

He urges your hand to keep palming him through his jeans as he kisses you. He tastes like the wine he brought and the mints Dieter leaves laying around everywhere. Your hand goes there, feeling his length and sighing. You can’t wait to feel him inside you.

“You want daddy to give you more?” Josh hums against your lips before his tongue invades your mouth.

Daddy? Ugh. Mood killer.

"You gonna-"

Whatever Josh was about to say dies on his tongue as the door to the cottage opens. Dieter’s head swings around just in time to see Josh's hand covering yours on the vee of his jeans, your bodies practically melded together.

"Get out," Dieter barks, his eyes wild. He literally races over to you both on the couch, glowering over Josh like an overprotective father. “Get away from her.”

Josh pulls away from you instantly, his entire face blanching. You reach for Josh as he stands abruptly. He's all mumbling apologies, pulling on his jacket and brushing past a very confused Mia who has just come in.

"What the fuck?" You say struggling to a stand. Your belly makes you go off kilter and you shake off Dieter's hand as he steadies you.

"What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking it was my night off and I wanted to enjoy it!" You explain angrily. "And you just chased off my date!"

"Your date?" Dieter looks beside himself with agitation. "Since when? We had an agreement!"

“Agreement? You mean order!”

You throw your hands up, wanting to punch Dieter squarely in the jaw. Instead you simply shake your head and shoulder past him to go to your bedroom. He tries calling your name but you ignore him, slamming the bedroom door behind you.

Mia watches this scene, her large eyes curious. "Dieter what am I missing here?"

"Huh?" Dieter whirls around in a spin. "Nothing."

"Then why did you just scare off my assistant?"

"Because I …He … She’s not..." Dieter waves his hand in the air, trying to explain himself. "I don't want my assistant fucking around with yours."

"Why?"

"It's not professional," Dieter insists, his face gloomy. "What if it got back to set?"

"I don't think they'd care," Mia laughs softly. "Are you just perhaps a bit overprotective of her?"

"Yes."

"Because of the baby?"

"Because- wait, what?"

Mia brings her jacket off her shoulders, hanging it up. "I'm a woman, Dieter. I have sisters. I know a pregnant woman when I see it."

Dieter pauses, considering what to say. He recalls Diane's instructions before you left for Ireland.

"Yeah she's pregnant. She's religious so she's keeping it but she doesn't want anyone to know," Dieter explains.

"Oh," Mia nods.

"I just don't want her hurt." Dieter tries to look sorrowful. "I've known her for a while and yeah, I guess I don't want anyone messing with her. I don't really know Josh or his intentions. I don’t want things to get messy."

"I totally get it," Mia says placing a hand to his forearm. "That's so sweet of you to care about your staff like that."

Dieter shrugs, smiling softly.

"I'll tell Josh to back off," Mia promises.

"Thanks," Dieter says warmly. "I'd appreciate that."

“You still wanna practice those lines for tomorrow?” Mia asks gently, her eyes warm as she glances at the bottle of wine Josh brought. “I see they left some wine.”

“Yeah,” Dieter smiles. “That sounds perfect.”

Josh isn't returning your calls anymore. When you see him on set he's totally polite but there's no more flirting, no more stolen kisses. You figure after the embarrassment of the other evening he’s steering clear of getting caught up in that mess. You can’t blame him. But you miss the attention, you miss the thrill.

In a few short months you won’t be able to hide that you’re pregnant and then after you give birth you’ll need months for recovery before you’re willing to put yourself back out on the dating scene.

Not that you were that big on the dating scene to begin with. If it wasn’t school it was working for Dieter. You had a few flings, a few whirlwind romances that left your body sated but your mind craving more. You try touching yourself in the bath or in the shower, in your bed. Nothing is working. There’s something primal about another person touching you that your hormones are craving.

You and Dieter haven’t spoken about that night with Josh since it happened. You had no desire to rehash the humiliation and in all honesty, you were wrong to do it here in a home that is more Dieter’s than it is yours. You should have gone to Josh’s if you wanted privacy, but you’d been so horny you hadn’t realized that.

You’re still dutiful in his scheduling and a week later the two of you are heading into Dublin so Dieter can have an on-air interview with a popular Irish radio personality. He’s nervous about it, tapping his fingers along his bouncing knee in the back of the limo they sent.

“So steer clear of politics obviously,” you say as you tap onto the tablet reading the notes Diane sent. “Diane says that she’ll be out here next week to go over your interview strategies for Graham Norton. Apparently you’re flying over there for an overnight.”

“I assume you’ll be hanging back for that,” Dieter says flatly.

“Yeah, you don’t need both me and Diane for that one.”

Dieter doesn’t know why but the thought of you fucking Josh is stuck in his brain. Someone Dieter has seen you growing closer to during your time here in Ireland when your attention should be on him. He’s Dieter Bravo – He’s rich, famous, an Oscar winner, the father of the baby you carry! What the fuck makes Josh worth your attention? Dieter sees the secret smiles when Josh texts you, sees you distracted on set. It fucking infuriates him.

“Gives you a whole two days to fuck your little PA friend while I’m gone.”

Dieter is shooting you an open sneer and you feel your entire body heating up. That’s it. You’ve tried to be civil and even apologetic but this is getting ridiculous. You throw the tablet on the car seat between the two of you, your nostrils flaring.

“You don’t get to tell me who I go to bed with,” you growl, noting the way Dieter’s eyes widen in surprise at your tone. “I'm tired you thinking you control everything about me because I happen to be carrying your kid.”

You glance up belatedly hoping that the driver can’t hear you through the plastic divider separating the front from the back of the vehicle before your eyes are back on the increasingly red-faced Dieter.

“I’m my own person, Dieter. And yes, I will carry this child, and yes I will do so with love and care. But as for whom I fuck? That’s not your business.”

You don’t bother telling him that Josh is off the table. That you heard yesterday that he’s started seeing some girl from costumes. You don’t bother telling Dieter that there’s no one in the quiet hamlet that you actually want to fuck. He doesn’t need to know that.

Dieter continues to stare at you, shocked at the vitriol coming from you. He’s seen you irritated and even angry, but right now you seem borderline frenzied. Your cheeks are red and your eyes are bright and you’re almost snarling.

He’s turned on out of his mind.

He crosses his legs to hide his growing length, clearing his throat and praying you don’t notice the flush rising to his cheeks.

You throw yourself back into your seat, eyes out the window. You’re breathing quickly, still furious about all of this. You wish there was another man on set that you’d like to have take you to bed but there’s no attraction for anyone else. Josh was the only one who appealed to you and without him your only solution is the men down at the pub (all pensioners or gay) or your own fingers which really don’t do the job.

Dieter watches you, struck by his own increasing insecurity. He’d rather you fuck anyone else here. Someone whose texts don’t make you smile down at your phone. Someone who doesn’t distract you during movie nights with Dieter. A nobody.

"I know that what I'm asking might sound unfair," Dieter finally offers quietly. "So I'll pay someone. Someone reputable and clean from one of the services here."

It takes you a moment to realize what he's offering and when you do you turn to face him, outraged.

"I'm not sleeping with an escort! I’ve never paid for sex I’m not about to start now.”

"Fine,” Dieter shrugs. “I'll get you whatever toy you want."

"I have toys. Toys aren't doing the job," you admit with a sigh before your face flushes at the admittance. You don't tell him that you've worn out the batteries beyond charging on all. That the toys aren’t what you crave. It’s the touch of a man, his heartbeat under your palm, the sweaty tangled mess under sheets that your body craves.

But Dieter doesn’t understand this; he’s still trying to come up with a solution to your problem that won’t make him feel like shit.

"Then I'll-"

"I need sex, Dieter!" You interrupt in frustration. "All these fucking hormones are making me so... I-I just need a cock to come on!”

The minute the words escape you Dieter’s already dark eyes seem to turn black. He slowly inches over to you in that bouncing, jerky way of his, crawling over the seat until he reaches your. You don't know what he's doing, but you don't stop him when his hand comes to the curve of your belly.

You hold in a whimper at the sensation of his warm palm through the fabric of your shirt. His hands are wide but you've never noticed just how big they are. His head tilts forth, his forehead gently pressing against yours. Your eyes flutter to focus on his full mouth.

"You're taking care of my baby," Dieter offers in a husky whisper. "So I'll take care of you."

His free hand slowly moves to wrap around the back of your neck, barely touching you.

"That's a terrible idea," you breathe, your voice holding no conviction.

"We did it before," Dieter reasons.

"We don't even remember it."

"So let's make a memory," Dieter murmurs, his eyes on your mouth now.

“We’re here Mister Bravo,” comes the voice of the driver from the front of the town car.

Fuck.

The ride back from the radio interview is tense. Dieter managed to be professional, even charming with the hosts. And while he did that you managed to get a few emails checked, interviews organized and wardrobe fittings scheduled.

But the promise of what he started in the limo only hours before weighs heavily on you both. You feel it’s massively inappropriate given that he’s your boss. He’s paranoid he’s overstepped and scared you off so he doesn’t want to make another move.

So the two of you look out opposite windows, studiously ignoring one another until you return back to the rental. Dieter practically flings himself from the limo, tossing a wave at the driver over his shoulder as you roll your eyes and follow him inside.

The house is quiet, the light of the day dimming. You’re too tired for a walk today so you quickly shower and pull on your softest sleep shorts and t-shirt. You pull on your fuzzy robe and slippers and pad out to the kitchen to make yourself a tea. Dieter is already there boiling the water, his hair damp from his own shower. The two of you exchange tight smiles before you go over to the television, switching it on.

“I think there’s a doc about Patagonia,” Dieter calls over to you. “Wanna watch it together?”

“Sure.”

You hate that the thought of it makes your heart jump. The man that is usually so annoying to you is suddenly so fucking enticing you want to jump him right now. You want to fist your hand through his damp curls and ride him until he’s whimpering.

Fucking hormones.

You wonder if Dieter is good in bed. You've heard plenty of thankful refrains from his closed bedroom door but that might just be to stroke his ego.

You don’t remember your time with him and so the only context you have is when you walked in on him when you thought he was alone and you were desperate to go over some of the errands he had asked of you earlier in the week.What you'd found was Dieter lying in bed, one arm behind his head as a lithe blonde man with a scruffy beard went down on him. Dieters hand was carding through the man's hair, pulling his mouth further along his impressive cock.

"That's right," Dieter murmured, eyes closed. "Take it all like a good boy. Swallow it down."

You'd quickly closed the door shut, the man's moans echoing behind you thankful you'd not been seen. For some reason that image had stayed with you since then. You don't know if it's because it was two men or because Dieter was so commanding or because it was something you weren't supposed to see.

But when you think of Dieter and fucking him, it's this memory that floods your senses... And your panties. Like right now as you sit next to him trying to ignore the proximity of his body to yours.

“Want popcorn?”

“Nah, I’m okay.”

“Tea?”

“No I’m fine. Do you want tea?”

“No, I’m good.”

It’s like a middle school dance. The two of you sitting stiffly next to each other, both pretending to ignore the obvious desire there, both too scared of what will happen next. You’re desperate to focus on Patagonia but you can’t. Your boss smells so good and looks so good and he’s rolled up his sleeves so his forearms are bare and his hands are so fucking big. You imagine them everywhere on your body before you force yourself to find a distraction.

“I never asked you about your tattoos,” you say as your eyes runs over the inky triangle closest to you on his forearm. “Why triangles?”

“I guess I really like pizza,” Dieter smirks.

And suddenly all the tension is gone from the moment, replaced with the familiarity of his humor. You let your head tilt back as you let out a guffaw, pushing his arm affectionately. He swings it around your shoulders as he watches your eyes crinkling as you laugh loudly, feeling his chest swell. He loves it when he can make you laugh like that; unguarded.

And in that moment he knows he wants more. He wants to make you feel good. He wants to feel you and be able to remember it the next day.

As you wipe amused tears from your eyes you feel Dieter leaning towards you, his hand on your shoulder, tilting you in his direction ever so slightly.

You don’t pull away.

In fact you let the giggles ebb, but you don’t move from his nearness. Your faces are so close he can feel your warm breath huffing over his parted mouth. You smell like soap from the shower and earl grey tea. He watches your eyes go to his mouth and then slowly move back to meet his gaze.

Why isn’t he kissing me?

You want him to kiss you.

But he’s just sitting there, arms around you; face so close you can see the density of his eyelashes. The two of you sit there breathing slowly into one anothers mouths and it dawns on you that Dieter is waiting for you. Impossibly erratic, impulsive Dieter Bravo is waiting to see if this is truly what you want.

You need to make the first move.

For some reason that's what prompts your head to tilt towards him, your mouth gently landing against his. Your hands go to his shoulder, holding tightly.

He kisses you gently at first, head spinning at how good it feels. He doesn't know if it's because this is the longest he's been sober in years or because it's you. Whatever the reason, it makes him wrap his arms around your waist, licking into your mouth as you whimper.

Fuck he kisses well.

"This is a terrible idea," you tell him even as you begin to pull at the drawstring of his sweatpants.

"Completely," he says, running his palms along your upper arms.

"Need you to fuck me hard, Bravo."

"Anything you want."

"This is just a way to g-get some release," you tell him as his mouth goes to your neck and you groan.

"Mhmmm."

You try to remember what you were going to say but his tongue is slowly dragging along your jaw before he's planting sloppy kisses down your neck.

"J-just this one time," you groan when his hands come to cup your breasts, thumbs rolling over the stiffened peaks of your breasts overtop your nightclothes.

"You sure? What about if you need it again?" Dieter hums, hands sliding up under your sleep shirt to find your breasts warm and heavy in his hands. He makes a soft sound of pleasure as he kneads them.

"We c-can't," you whimper, eyes closing. His mouth is so soft and warm and it leaves every piece of your body it touches electric.

"Sure we can," he murmurs. "We make the rules."

"The contract," you offer weakly as his fingers gently pinch each nipple tightly until you gasp. Dieter can’t look away from your saddled brows and the way you arch into him.

"Didn't say anything about this," Dieter whispers against your mouth. You kiss him now, urgent and needy and he groans as he licks into your mouth.

"I want you to enjoy this," Dieter purrs.

"I'll enjoy it," you tell him, hands still fumbling with the drawstring of his sweatpants.

You'll enjoy any sex at this point. You just need a quick, hard, fuck and you'll be back to your normal focused self (well, plus pregnant). You're startled when Dieter takes your wrists, pulling them from his waist. You frown up at him.

"What're you-"

Dieter gives you a playful smirk and drops to his knees beside the sofa and between your legs. Your eyes blow open in shock as he tugs your sleep shorts down from under your sleep shirt and tosses them over his shoulder. They land somewhere on the floor, forgotten. You don't even have time to be embarrassed at being half naked in front of him, your boss, because he immediately drags one thigh over his broad shoulder.

"Amazing," he murmurs, eyes fixed on your glistening sex.

"You don't have to-"

"Don't have to make you feel good?" Dieter scoffs up at you. "No wonder you weren't in a rush to fuck. All your other boyfriends must have been pitiful in bed."

You're about to answer sharply when Dieters mouth descends. His hands grip the back of your thighs and you feel him lick a stripe up the seam of your drenched cunt.

"Fuck!"

Dieter grins against your pussy at the sound. He looks up to see your eyes wide and fixed on him kneeling there between your legs. You’re slumped on the sofa, looking at him with flushed cheeks and heavy eyes and Dieter feels himself groan at the sight.

You try to distract yourself from the burning in your thighs and the sudden nakedness you feel when you see the moonlight is shining on Dieter’s mouth between your legs.

“Dieter anyone could see.”

“We’re a million miles away from anyone else,” he tells you, voice muffled. But he stops when he senses that you’re suddenly no longer interested in this, at least not in out here while the TV plays a documentary on Patagonia in the background. He leans forward,pressing glossy kisses up your belly until he’s caged you in with his arms against the sofa. He sees the pupils blown wide in your eyes and he can’t help himself from kissing you senseless. You taste yourself on him and it makes your ardor grow.

With a patience he didn't even know he truly possessed, Dieter leads you to his bedroom by the hand, weaving through the furniture in the semi darkness. He’s so hard he’s fucking throbbing, the scent of you clinging to his face and driving him wild.

He watches you clamor onto his bed, eyes watching his face in anticipation. Despite the fact that you run most of his life, tonight it’s Dieter that will be taking the lead. To his surprise you submit, watching him with a nervous look as he crawls onto the bed next to you, still wearing his threadbare t-shirt and soft sweatpants.

You wait for him to start roughly, to take what he wants. You think of his hands on the back of that man’s head, the way he’d thrust lazily into his mouth. You wait for Dieter to take take take as he always does in all things.

But he’s not rushing, he’s watching you closely.

Because he's sober during sex for the first time in years and he's so aware of how this potentially changes things between the two of you. His hands are trembling when he reaches for you. For you this is release, Dieter is a human sex toy for you to derive pleasure from. Dieter knows and accepts this.

But you're not that to him.

And even though he can't recall that night the two of your shared that created the life you now carry, he knows that he never treated you like it. He’s never thought of you as just sexual release, not then, not now, not ever.

He watches you on the bed, hands reaching for him. “Dieter please.”

He moves towards the mattress, knees hitting the edge before his large hands come to slide your sleep shirt up your belly, notching it just under your breasts when he sees your concern at it rising higher.

"Lean back baby mama," Dieter grins down at you as he kisses his way down your swelled stomach, his mouth soft and wet. "Gonna make you feel so good."

"We don't have to- I just wanna get fucked," you explain, still feeling awkward at the thought of your boss going down on you.

"Without being warmed up?" Dieter squints at you in confusion before placing a kiss to the soft of your pussy. "That's not how I do things. You need to come before you get this cock."

You hate how those words from him are enough to have you whimpering.

You watch him with eyes heavy lidded as he spreads your thighs widely for him, hooking them over his broad shoulders. Only now that you're opened so fully to him does he look at your sex and give a tortured moan.

"Such a pretty pussy," he breathes, nose nudging your clit as he begins to give your cunt a sloppy kiss. "So wet already baby. This all for me?"

You don't reply to him and he doesn't wait for your response. But the answer is clear when arousal continues as his tongue begins to delve deeply between your folds. His tongue and mouth immediately begin working at a frantic pace between your legs as he holds you against his face. It isn't long before you're arching into him, holding him by his wild curls.

His wide hands hold your thighs to his shoulders, pinning you open so he can taste you. You hear murmurs of "so fucking sweet" and "so good for me, baby" and each rasping word hits you directly below your navel.

When his tongue flicks your clit and then he begins sucking it's game over. You feel it building in your core and you let out a gentle whimper. Dieter’s eyes fly open at the sound, gaze fixed on your pleasured face contoured in pleasure at your approaching climax.

Your hands are twisted in the sheets and he can see how every muscle in your body is tightened. You’re in awe at how wrong your initial assessment of his sexual prowess was. Dieter Bravo is not a selfish lover.

He's fucking insatiable.

"C'mon, baby," Dieters voice is low and syrupy between his licks and kisses. "Let go for me."

You weren't expecting it to feel this good. Weren't expecting Dieters voice to go that low and raspy. Weren't expecting that just his tongue and fingers could hit so deep, so well.

"I need you to come on my tongue."

There's something in the almost way he says it that has your thighs tightening around his ears, back arching violently off the bed.

"I'm... I'm-c-coming!"

You dissolve underneath his tongue, pelvis thrusting harshly against his greedy mouth. You cry out his name over and over, eyes damp with relieved tears at the tension that is slowly leaving your body.

When you come, Dieter looks up the length of your body, taking in your glassy eyes and flushed cheeks as you float down from your high. You give a soft sigh that ends in a groan. You want more.

"I knew it," he groans, eyes shuttering as he watches you shatter. "I fucking knew it."

You lay quaking in the aftershocks as Dieter crawls up the length of your body, dragging a loving palm over your belly as he does. You're not even sure he realizes he's doing it.

"What did you know?" You pant, hands clutching the sheets as you come down from your pleasured high. His face is inches from yours, dark eyes glittering.

"The face you make when you come," Dieter rasps, eyes mapping your flushed face. "I knew it was gonna ruin me."

His mouth crashes into yours before you can reply and despite your insistence to yourself that this remain platonic, your arms are already snaking around his neck. You're dropping your jaw open so he can lick into your mouth and you hear your own desperate moans echoing against his in the quiet room.

"Fuck me," you croak against his mouth. "Hard."

He pulls back eagerly, stumbling to a stand beside the bed and nearly tripping in his rush to take off his pants and shirt. Finally he stands curls askew from taking off his t-shirt in a rush.

He places his knee on the bed and you can't help but be impressed with the size of him. No wonder he has so many repeat bedroom visitors. Between that and his tongue is a marvel he has time to leave his bed at all.

"You ready?"

"Yes," you pant, hating how desperate you sound as your hands reach for him, eagerly shifting your hips and smiling at him. He lays himself next to you on his side.

“Oh shit, a condom-“ Dieter starts with a frown. “I think I have some-“

"You're clean?"

"Yeah,” Dieter says with quirked brows. “Haven't fucked anyone since you."

You're shocked by this announcement. “Mia?”

Dieter shakes his head, cheeks pinking. You sense the moment slipping from you and you shake off the voice that tells you the lines are blurring. Right now all you want is to feel Dieter inside of you.

“Fuck me bare,” you tell him, mouth on his.

“Really?”

“S’not like I can get more pregnant.”

Dieter chuckles gently, his hand coming to cup your cheek as his tongue slips into your mouth. You taste him, every crevice as he does the same to you, needing to feel every piece of you that you keep hidden. As he does he trails a finger lazily against your inner thigh, knuckles brushing against the warmth of your core.

"You still want this?" he murmurs pulling back to see your eyes.

"Yeah," you nod eagerly, already missing the sensation of his lips on yours. You curl into him. He still stares at you, only now he looks nervous.

"You want me?"

There's something in the way Dieter's voice catches at that last word. Almost as if it's fighting to get out of his throat. Your eyes latch to his and you see the vulnerability there, the way he looks so unsure even as you hold to him.

"Yeah, Dieter," you finally say quietly. "I want you."

The relief is so clear as his mouth finds yours again. He kisses you deeply, tongues dabbing at one another as he urges you onto your back.

"Fuck, I can't believe we're finally doing this," he rasps against your jaw, pressing damp kisses there. "Gonna make you feel so good."

His fingers trail at the seam of your cunt, teasing but you bat them away. He gives you a confused look.

"I need your cock," you tell him breathlessly, hitching your thighs around his hips and urging his cock to your entrance.

This isn't what he normally does. He likes his female partners to be multiple orgasms deep before he fucks them. He's large and he doesn't want to hurt you.

"Please," you whisper and now you're cunt is shifting towards the head of his cock, urging him inside.

He gives a small groan and before he can second guess you request he's slowly sliding into you to the hilt. The feeling of Dieter entering you is exquisite, the stretch not too bad because he's already made you come.

Your entire body arches under him at the divine sensation, the way he fills you so achingly full. You hiss in pleasure, gripping his shoulders so tightly you leave half moon crests temporarily tattooed on them.

Dieter stares at you as he enters you, his mouth hanging open as the delicious sensation of your cunt envelops him. Warm and slick and so fucking good. You wrap around him like you were made for him, like you were both built to fit perfectly together. It makes him give out a strangled gurgle when he sheaths himself to the hilt.

"Holy fuck."

"So good," you moan without thought. You're normally not a vocal lover, but no one has made you feel this good just at entering you.

"Yeah?" Dieter asks you with a proud grin as his hips begin to rock into you. "You like feeling me deep, huh?"

"Yes," you nod, biting your lower lip. "Want you even deeper."

Your thighs drop open further and now you're hands slither down his side until you’re gripping his ass, urging him to fuck harder and deeper.

"So eager," Dieter rasps not even bothering to hide his delight. You're eager for him. He nuzzles your cheek, grazing a kiss there. "You’re trembling, baby. You needed this didn't you? Needed my cock so badly."

"Uh huh."

Fuck you're so pliant, so goddam agreeable right now under him that it makes Dieter heady. You're never so soft with him in real life. You'd never admit to needing him outside this moment. Dieter realizes right then and there that being inside you bare is better than any drug, any drink.

"You like fucking an Oscar winner, sweet thing?"

You momentarily break from your pleasured haze to give him a look that clearly reads your disdain for this particular dirty talk. In all the bliss you've been experiencing with him, you'd momentarily forgotten who Dieter Bravo is.

Dieter is an ego maniac, a man who loves to talk about himself, an actor who gets told how amazing he is by everyone, so you really shouldn't be that surprised that he'd bring up his accolades during sex. However that's about the least sexy thing about him right now

"Does that usually work?"

"Huh?" Dieter's eyes are glassy as his cock saws in and out of you. "Does what work?"

"Reminding your bed partners that you're an Oscar winner?"

He looks at the derision in your gaze and swallows embarrassed. "Sometimes."

You see the sheepish look cross his features.

"Why say it?"

"I guess…to impress them." Dieter gives a crooked grin. "To seduce them... Or whatever .."

"You don't need to impress me or seduce me," you tell him firmly, your hips jutting as you increase his pace. "This is a transaction, Dieter. All I need from you is your cock and for you to fuck me deep."

Dieter grins weakly again and watches as your eyes shut, hands moving to either side of your head against the pillow and he begins thrusting anew. Dieter loves that he doesn't have to wear a condom with you. He's rarely gone bareback - always paranoid about accidental pregnancy or a lying partner. The sweet clench on his bare cock has his brain fuzzy.

Dieter can't fight the need to inhale you at that moment. Your soap, your perfume, your skin. Everything tantalizes him, making his mouth water. His nose buries itself in the hair at your temple and he breathes deeply. Coconut. Vanilla. And something something uniquely you that he can't quite place.

Having you like this is a dream, one he didn't realize he's been harboring for much longer than when you first slept together.

"Need to hear those noises again," Dieter groans against your temple. "Need to feel your cunt squeeze me when you come."

His mouth is filthy and you're shocked at how much it turns you on to hear it. His voice is so low, so gravely is almost a purr.

"You gonna soak my cock, baby?"

"Yes," you mewl, eyes tightly shut as your bodies rock against one another.

"Yeah you are," he says with affection.

He wants so desperately to push your t-shirt up and see the rest of you naked and bouncing. But he'll take what you offer without complaint. His hips shift forward again and again, your thighs spread wide for him so he can access you as deeply as possible.

"Harder," you beg brokenly. "Please… fuck me harder."

He acquiesces immediately with a grunt, hands coming to pin your wrists to the mattress above your head as he fucks into you, hips moving brutally against yours. He can see the swell of your breasts bouncing under the soft cotton of your t-shirt, watches the way your eyes roll back and hears the strange throaty babbling that emerges from you.

"So fu ... So dee.. Fuck... Good.... Don't st... Gonna... Gonna..."

Each word is punched out with every thrust from Dieter. He feels sweat beginning to bead at his temples but nothing distracts him from his pursuits.

You're close, he knows by the way your own hips begin to circle his and then finally they still as you begin pulsing around his length.

At the first sound of your cry and the feeling of your cunt milking him, Dieter feels his own release erupt from him.

“You’re so good, so fucking good,” he groans before he grunts out your name as he gives one final thrust and then stills. He groans as he spends himself deep within you before he collapses on top of you, head against your shoulder.

"Fuck." Dieter says slowly. "That was....that was good right?"

"More than good," you say honestly before brushing back your sweaty hair from your forehead. "Thank you."

You go to sit up and leave but Dieter is already pulling you towards him, wedging a leg between yours and nestling his face in the crook of your neck.

“Just stay a moment.”

You want to extricate yourself, to remind him that this was all just for release. But he’s so warm and he smells so good and you feel so good and the room is so warm . . .

You wake up a few hours later to Dieter’s hand gently rubbing your stomach over your sleep shirt. You give a soft yawn and he looks your face on the pillow next to his. He wonders if all men feel like this when they’ve gotten a woman pregnant. This fierce protectiveness, this open desire that makes him want to hold you and never let go.

You look beautiful right now, sleepy and sensual as you give a soft stretch. He feels your torso shift and thinks about the miracle under his fingertips. Creating life.

"He's gonna be a Saggitarius."

"Huh?"

"My son," Dieter tells you. "Doctor says he'll be born December twelfth, remember? That makes him a Saggitarius."

"So?"

"So that's good because I'm a Libra. So we're a good personality match. He's gonna be independent though. Wonder if he'll go into the family business," Dieter muses looking at your belly. "What are you?"

"A woman who doesn't think that star placements affect my future," you say with your eyes closed, mouth curled into a bemused smirk.

"He'll be here just in time for Christmas," Dieter says dreamily. "Can you imagine how cute he'll be in front of the Christmas tree?"

"Not really," you say briskly. "I'll be recovering from pushing a watermelon-sized being out of my body. I'm thinking a beach somewhere with lots of alcohol."

"You're not going to be here?" Dieter says, feeling a strange panic bubbling inside him. "Not even for the first few days?"

"You paid me to be your surrogate, Dieter," you tell him flatly. "Not your nanny."

"I just figured you'd stick around for a bit," Dieter mutters.

“I'm gonna go to an all inclusive somewhere. Just relax for two weeks in the sunshine, get hammered, ho-."

You stop. You'd been about to say "hook up" but something makes you pause. When you'd first thought about life post birth you'd kinda just assumed that it would be running away to an island to celebrate the whole thing being behind you. But now, thoughts of some warm vacation away from Dieter and your baby seems... Hollow.

Not your baby. Stop thinking like that.

You glance over to see Dieter, his face impassive. You think that maybe, just maybe you could stay a few days. Just to get the baby settled. That would be kind of you. Yes, that works.

"I guess I could stay the first week it comes home- er to your home," you tell him.

Dieter nearly jumps off the bed in excitement. "Really?"

You shrug. "Won't be able to move much anyway."

Dieter can't help himself, his hands go to your neck, holding you before his lips come crashing into yours. You hate how you don't even pause before returning the kiss with cheeks flushed as he takes them in his hands, his eyes soft on yours.

When he kisses you again it feels slower, deeper. And when you urge him on top of you again, your thighs parting automatically, he slides into you like he just kissed you. Slow and deep until the two of you are shuddering against one another, your dual moans a symphony in the quiet house.

Cravings

bananas

pizza

pretzels

independence from boss who will not stop sending insane baby related texts at all hours of the day

Missing

personal space

sushi

not barfing

Baby is size of turnip.

Dieter’s mood continues to vacillate in the coming weeks. Some days he’s bouncing up and down, cooing at your belly behind closed doors and talking about the future. Other days he’s withdrawn, spending hours in his art room or running through his lines alone in his bedroom.

You wonder if it’s the withdrawal from drugs. You haven’t seen your employer indulging in anything more than red wine at dinner and you wonder if it’s taking its toll on him. You decide he needs a distraction, something fun. You also sort of want to pay him back for… well… helping you out.

You take a look at his schedule and after a few phone calls you go to his art room on morning he has off, giving a soft knock. His voice is muffled but irritable through the closed door. He’s blasting music that he turns down.

“What?”

“I have a surprise for you,” you tell him grinning through the door. Almost immediately you hear the padding of socked feet and he pulls the door open, a cigarette hanging loosely from his mouth, his eyes wide like a child’s.

“A surprise?”

“Yep,” you nod with a smile. “A special treat.”

He wastes no time in running a comb through his hair (at your insistence), popping a piece of gum in his mouth and pulling on his oversized jacket before following you out of the house and into the waiting town car.

“What’s the treat?” he asks the second the vehicle begins to move.

“Be patient,” you say with a teasing grin. “It’s about a two hour drive to Dublin.”

“Two hours?” Dieter throws himself back in his seat as if this is the cruellest form of punishment. “Do I get a hint?”

You mull this over as the green outside the window sails by. “Mmm… Green.”

“Green?”

“Yep.”

“The fuck?”

“That’s all you get.”

“What kind of clue is ‘green’ when we’re in fucking Ireland?”

“Guess you’ll have to wait and see,” you tell him. “Now I have some work I have to do, why don’t you go on your phone or take a nap or something.”

“You sure you’ve never had kids?” Dieter muses sarcastically. “Sure sound like one.”

You give him a warning look before going back to responding to emails about a photo shoot happening next month. You pull into Dublin a few hours later, glancing sideways when Dieter shifts and begins speaking.

"I miss going to the movies as a regular person," Dieter tells you, eyes hidden behind sunglasses as you drive by the theatre. "Used to be the only place that made me happy."

Dieter tells you a lot, but his childhood is a topic he usually stays away from. You lower your phone, giving him your full attention. "Really?"

"Yeah," he nods. "When I was a kid we didn't have a ton of money. But my mom always saved up enough for me to go to see a movie."

He misses his Mom a lot. It’s clear in the wistful way he talks about her. It reminds you that the two of you share a connection, one you both wish you didn’t. Parents gone too soon, taken, ripped from your families but never your hearts.

You don’t have to lower his sunglasses to know his eyes are misty as he thinks of her. You reach across the seat and wrap your fingers around his wide hand. You want this day to be a good one for him, you want him to be happy.

“What’s your favorite drink in the whole world?”

Dieter comes back to himself, glancing at you over his sunglasses. “Easy, whiskey.”

“Exactly,” you say smiling. “And what kind?”

“Jameson.”

You nod, watching the green building slowly coming into view. You motion to it out the window with a soft "voila" grinning as Dieters eyes grow wide.

"Jameson distillery...Private tour for one Dieter Bravo," you tell him proudly. "Turns out the owner is a big Cliff Beasts fan."

Dieter is leaning over your lap to see more of the building, his warm chest on your thighs.

"Are you serious?"

He's looking at the logo glowing on the sign, eyes taking in the double doors before smiling in shock at you.

"Yep. Now be on your best behavior," you tell him bringing out the phone. "I'll be back in three hours-"

"Fuck that," Dieter scoffs. "You're coming with me. This'll be way more fun with someone else."

"Dieter, I can't even drink."

"I'll drink enough for the two of u-"

"Incorrect," you cut him off officiously. "You promised Diane you weren’t getting wasted anymore. So today you can to enjoy the tour and the whiskey tasting, maybe buy a hat, but that's it."

"But-"

"Don't make me regret doing something nice, Bravo," you warn him and a warm smile crosses his face as he nods.

"Yes ma'am."

"Alright, let's go in." You shuffle on your seat to the door. “Now we only have three hours inside so make sure you don’t wander off, got it?”

“Got it.” Dieter is squirming excitedly so much he reminds you of a puppy, all big eyes and wagging tail. You roll your eyes in amusement before you duck out of the car with him, telling the driver to please return in three hours.

“Sunglasses,” you murmur, handing them to him. He slips them on, tugging up the hood of his jacket. Without warning he takes your hand in his, clasping tightly. “Don’t wanna get separated,” he explains. You don’t fight him on it, instead you grip him back and nod.

Dieter doesn't let go of your hand until you're both inside staring up at the chandelier made of whisky bottles. The place is busy, but its midday and most are so distracted by their own adventure that they don't even notice Dieter as you two walk in.

"Holy shit," Dieter says and even though you can't see his eyes you know they're wide with excitement.

The wraparound bar has descriptive titles like floral, vanilla, smooth above empty shot glasses begging to be filled. Dieter reads the board talking about the various things to see.

"I wanna do the cask drawing," he says, rocking back in his shoes excitedly. "And the blending class."

"We can do it all," you promise him, absently tapping his elbow to keep him moving. "C'mon, we're looking for a Peter Connor."

You sail past a group just starting their tour, your feet slapping the slate floor. Dieter is awestruck, looking at everything like a wondrous child until you come upon what looks to be the owner, a grey haired man with big ears.

"Peter Connor?" You ask, pulling out the email correspondence between the two of you. "I'm the one who-"

"Mister Bravo?" Peter says with his Irish lilt the second he sees him, his eyes wide. "I was just sayin' to me wife that it was a feckin' miracle you bein' in Dublin since we just finished yer latest Cliff Beast film. Is there any hope of an autograph for the wife an' me?"

Dieter is all charm and smiles, shaking the man's hand and chatting back and forth before signing autographs and you taking a few photos of them.

"I didn't know you were married," Peter says, shaking you hand warmly before you realize what he's said.

"Oh no," you say quickly. "Just his PA."

"My mistake," Peter says ducking his head. "Well if you'll be followin' me I've got a special tour planned. Your assistant here told me how much ye love Jameson, Mister Bravo."

"I do," Dieter says grinning. It's the only whisky I drink."

"Aye, as it should be."

The private tour goes off without a hitch and you find yourself fascinated by the varied history of Jameson whiskey.

When it comes to the tasting Peter your tour guide goes to pass you your flight but you stop him.

"None for me, thanks."

"Ye can't be comin' through Jameson and not tryin' a drop," he cajoles. Normally you'd come up with a lie or laugh along with him. But you're tired from the drive and walking while pregnant so you just shrug.

"Unless medical advice has changed in the last fifty years I don't think introducing my unborn child to whiskey in the womb is exactly wise."

Peter is immediately all smiles, looking at your stomach.

"Are ye' in the family way then?" He smiles. "What a blessin'. Is this yer first?"

And last.

"Yeah," you nod, not wanting more attention than necessary. Dieter is watching all of this at your elbow, eyes on your face.

"I wish ye and yer little one nothin' but blue skies and long healthy days and that you'll both be rich in blessins."

"Thank you."

Dieter sees it before you do, Peter's hand reaching forward to gently pat your stomach. He remembers the horror you feel at strangers grabbing your body and he quickly wraps his arm around your waist, guiding you towards the next flight of whiskey being brought out.

When a young couple comes up and quietly requests a photo Dieter accepts and it’s you who offers to take it, asking them to be subtle and not post it until Dieter has left. They agree, their hands hovering around Dieter’s broad shoulders. You hand them back their phone and move on, rolling your eyes at their backs.

Refreshing.

That's the word that comes to mind with Dieter about you. You're refreshing. Like an iced cold glass of water on a hot day. A welcome reprieve from the relentless heat. He's never had a someone close to him who didn't want their five minutes of fame. But you? You hate being seen, hate the idea of someone taking your photo. You want to exist, but you don't want celebrity, that's never been what you crave. And Dieter thinks that might be one of the nicest things about you.

You do the cask drawing, the whisky tasting, the black barrel blending class and by the end of the experience Dieter is visibly relaxed, wearing his newly acquired green Jameson t-shirt, beanie, hipflask and a bag full of no less than a metric fuck-ton of booze.

"Did you really need sixteen bottles D?"

"This is 12 distillery Reserve," Dieter says aghast at your question. "You can only get it in Dublin. So its one for each month plus a few extra for gifts."

You shake your head in faux exasperation as you both get into the car that's arrived for you along the curb. And just in time, you hear a few voices starting to murmur Dieters name as you close the door behind you both.

Settled inside Dieter produces a key chain in the shape of a whisky bottle, it glints in the low dimming lights of the city.

"For you," he says handing you the key chain as you laugh. "Since you didn't get to drink anything."

"Thanks," you say with a short laugh, taking the key chain from him. You look it over, gently rubbing at the raised enamel. The car begins to drive and you feel your eyelids start to lower.

"Thanks for the treat," comes Dieters whisky-tinged breath huffing at your temple. “Even if you didn’t get to drink.”

You try to hold in the shiver that accompanies his husky order in your ear. Fucking hormones. You swallow, eyes blinking open but you don't dare look over at the chuckling Dieter leaning back into his seat.

“Can we make one stop?” Dieter calls to the driver before the partition closes.

“Where?”

“I ordered something a few weeks back that I wanted to pick up.”

The car takes you to a small row of pale colored storefronts. Dieter mutters that he’ll be right back. You watch him exit and he takes off down one of the narrow alleys, his shoulders hunched.

Your stomach drops because this is all too familiar. This is a fix.

He’s going to buy drugs.

When he returns minutes later with no parcel and his hands shoved into his pockets you know that you’re right. The disappointment that floods you almost takes your breath away. Dieter clamors into the vehicle and the driver informs you that you’ll make good time heading back to the rental.

You are positively fuming and despite his several attempts at getting you to talk, you force your ear buds into your ears and ignore Dieter for the entire drive home.

You throw the door open when you finally arrive back, waiting for town car to leave the drive before you turn on Dieter, your voice low and growled as he makes his way to the kitchen.

“You are unbelievable.”

He slowly lowers his bags and bags of booze before taking in how furious you look.

“Huh? Why?”

“After all that trouble I went to because I wanted to give you a nice afternoon, you go and stop to get drugs?” You head shakes almost violently, moving to the kitchen to give space between the two of you because right now you want to throttle him. “So what is it this week? Cocaine? Heroin? I thought you wanted to be a responsible p-“

“Woah woah,” Dieter says raising his hands in supplication. “Chill out. I didn’t buy any fucking drugs and just so you know, I haven’t even done heroin in years. Believe it or not, some things in rehab stuck.”

“Oh no?” You scoff, throwing your purse to the floor. “Empty your pockets then.”

Dieter stands stiffly staring at you, a frown crossing his features.

“No.”

“Dieter.”

“I don’t want to.”

The two of you stare at one another a moment in a silent standoff. It’s you who fires the first shot as you reach into your coat pocket for your cellphone.

“I’m calling Diane,” you say briskly, “you can lie to me all you want, but-“

“I’m not lying to you,” Dieter insists and irritation is crowding his features now. The back of his neck is growing warm, a classic sign of frustration in him. He wishes you’d stop being so cold to him, so accusatory.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Why?”

“Because I know you.”

“Well you don’t know me that well!” Dieter all but shouts. He reaches into his pocket now and pulls out a small box, slamming it onto the kitchen counter between you both. You stare at it confused before looking back up at him.

“What is this?”

“A present for you,” he bites off, his cheeks pink with irritation. “One I was hoping to save until the end of filming.”

The shame that takes you over is almost debilitating in its acuity. You feel your entire body grow warm with humiliation at your accusation. All your desire for a pleasant day for Dieter has been ruined by you of all people.

“Oh.”

“Well you might as well open it now,” Dieter shrugs. “Cats out of the bag.”

You grimace as you open the box, feeling shame growing in your cheeks as you view what’s inside.

It’s a ring.

Your eyes widen as you look inside the box, your fingers pulling the ring out to inspect it. It's the same one you saw weeks ago, the hands holding the heart. Only this beautifully carved one has hands holding a sparking green emerald heart instead. You swallow your suddenly very dry mouth, glancing up at him.

"You bought me a ring?"

Dieter shrugs as if this is something he does every day.

“Why?”

"Heard you talking about it with Fia at the shop so I got one sent from Galway." He sees the look on your face and his brows furrow. "What? You don't like it?"

"I do," you promise him, putting the ring on your right hand, the heart facing out. You both smile when you hold it up to the light. "I love it actually. But I don't want you feeling like you have to get my gifts, Dieter. You're already paying me a lot."

Dieters smile flickers briefly.

"Yeah well this was... This wasn't a baby thing. It was a... I dunno, friend thing. A PA thing. You do a lot for me and just a thank you."

You stare at Dieter in shock, unable to formulate a reply a moment. You look at the ring and the hurt look on Dieter’s face and you feel shame suffuse you. He’d gone and done a sweet thing and you’d thought the worst of him.

“I’m sorry, Dieter.”

He nods and then walks past you, his face solemn as he walks into his bedroom and quietly closes the door shut.

///

19 weeks personal diary entry [D.Bravo]

Baby Name Ideas

Alex

Victor

Francisca

Penelope

Javiera

Should I include Mom’s name as middle name? She wouldn’t want that anyway.

The thing about working on a smaller film set is that it can feel like a family. You're already friends with many of the other PA's, the wardrobe department, hair and makeup, the catering and much more.

Most are older than you by a bit, not uncommon in this part of Ireland and its union. They are all perfectly kind to you, the food is always great and because of that you find yourself going to set more than you have in past productions.

Back in America you used to sit in Dieters trailer on set days with your laptop and phone busily organizing his days. But here his days aren't spent partying and because of the baby on the way you find him hanging around his rental most evenings. It makes your job easier and you find yourself with more free time.

You're also fascinated by how Dieter transforms himself into someone entirely different for this role. It's amazing how he goes from slob in his hole-filled robe and Crocs to a dashing leading man with his hair slicked back and his beard trimmed.

You're also amazed by Mia. You've been on plenty of sets and seen Dieter act opposite many beautiful leading ladies. But Mia is a supreme talent, the kind of woman who people whisper about and stare at. During their scenes together your eyes volley between the two of them completely enraptured in their acting and their undeniable chemistry.

You watch one day as a scene is filmed. Your perched on the chair marked Dieter Bravo, legs crossed and eyes stuck on him on set. It's a night scene and they are both in a library un-chaperoned.

"Why are you here?" Mia asks silhouetted against the window.

"You know why," he says with a throaty rasp coming up behind a quivering Mia.

He completely changes himself for each character down to the way he holds his shoulders back, making him look even broader.

It's hard not to find him attractive like that. Especially now that you know... What you know. The feel of his tongue between your thighs, the rasp of his beard against your cheek. The way his voice goes honeyed when he urges you to come.

You gonna soak my cock, baby?

You watch as Dieter cages Mia in against the wall. "You know what you do to me," he murmurs.

Mia stares up at him, her wide eyes unblinking. You swear you could see adoration in her gaze. It makes you hold your breath.

"Cut."

You watch the two of them break into easy smiles before Dieters large hand sails to the small of Mia's back. He leans over and whispers something into her ear and she tilts towards him, grabbing his bicep as she trills a laugh.

She likes him. You'd long suspected given her gazes that first night at the award show. But the worst part is that Dieter is feeding her obvious crush. His dark eyes crinkle at the sides when she says something only he can hear.

You find yourself cringing at their exchange, your eyes dropping to your phone. Diane has sent you a few emails about a kids awards show that they want to honor Dieter at. Plus a few branding commercials you have to run by him.

You head back to his trailer, needing to focus on your work. It’s a few hours later when you hear the crunch of his boots on the gravel and then the shift of the trailer as he enters, seeing the lights are on and inhaling that familiar aroma of coconuts and vanilla. You give a short hello, not even looking up from your laptop.

"It's lunch," he informs you, watching you hurriedly type at the table.

"Uh huh."

"Have you eaten?"

"I will later."

You don't even notice that he's left until twenty minutes later when a container of salad, bread and lasagna is pushed in front of you. You glance up with a quirked brow to see Dieter staring down at you.

"Eat."

Normally this would annoy you. You hate being told what to do and you hate being babied.

But there's something about the sight of him in that costume, the stern look on his face and the rasped command that has your pupils blowing wide. Your hormones begin thrumming and you feel arousal pooling in your lower belly. You barely feel in control of yourself as you close the lid of your laptop.

“I-I’m going on a walk,” you tell him before sliding out of the seat.

“But lunch –“

“I’ll eat when I get back. I promise.”

You hear a knock on his trailer door.

"Mister Bravo? Your needed on set."

"Coming Simon," Dieter calls out. Then he looks back at you with a serious look on his handsome face.

“Cmon,” Dieter pleads, his large eyes round. “Eat quick and then come to set? I want your advice on some lines.”

“Sure.”

He smiles and heads out of the trailer. The second the door is closed you’ve taken off to the daybed at the back of his trailer. You hate yourself for what you’re about to do, but it doesn’t stop you from shucking down your jeans and thrusting your hands under your panties.

The daybed smells like the cologne he wears, the organic soap he uses. Your close your eyes and inhale deeply before you bring yourself off in record time at the thought of Dieter in that regency outfit, of his dark eyes burning coals into yours as he takes you murmuring filth in that deep rasp of his.

When you come down you give a breathless laugh at how fast that happened before cleaning yourself up in the bathroom. You return to have a few bites of your lasagna before grabbing a banana from this morning's forgotten breakfast and heading to set.

You take your spot on Dieters chair as you arrive, your cheeks heating when he comes over to you. He looks nervous as he holds out the script to you.

"Run these with me?"

"Of course."

Dieter nods and you watch him transform into character. He runs a hand through his hair, making it more dishevelled. His face is a glower, his dark eyes narrowed.

“I need you,” Dieter growls. “So much I can barely breathe. You see what you do to me?”

Fuck.

You’re turned on and Dieter can see it plain as day. He sensed it back in the trailer, but now it’s so fucking obvious he could laugh, your pupils blown wide in your eyes as you watch him finish the scene.

“U-uh that was good,” you stammer, flustered. He wants to kiss you so badly right now, the smirk threatening to turn into a full-blown smile as he watches his normally composed assistant turn pink in the face, stuttering.

“No feedback?”

"Hmmm, maybe try loosening this," you tell him, hooking a finger into his cravat and tugging gently, feeling breathless as you do. "Like you're so overwhelmed by her nearness that you can't breathe."

"Oh shit, that's good," Dieter says with a broad smile. 'I'm gonna use that. Thanks."

"No problem," you answer honestly, eyes moving from his neck to his face. "I actually enjoy this part of the job."

"Yeah?" Dieter’s voice drops a bit as his head tilts to yours. "S'that all you enjoy about working for me?"

Memories of your times together flood your senses and your traitorous gaze immediately falls to his full mouth. You realize your finger is still hooked in his collar. You remove it slowly, letting it drag along his neck.

"Be honest," he purrs quietly against your temple. “I saw how you were looking at me earlier. This costume do it for you, baby mama? Should I bring it back with me later?”

Yes, fuck yes please.

You feel his mouth at your cheek as his hand rises to hover over your belly.

You go white in the face, pressing him back from you and glancing around, thankful no one is watching.

"What the fuck are you doing?" You hiss quietly. "Are you insane?"

Dieter seems to come back to himself and stands abruptly. His eyes are wide, realizing what he almost did.

"Fuck, I didn't-"

"Talent to set."

Dieter goes to say something else but instead just shakes his head and strides from you.

You can't even look at him right now you're so angry. He's going to blow this entire fucking thing with his recklessness. You want to leave but they're about to start rolling and you’re a professional.

"Alright," the director says as the makeup woman brushes Dieters face to take away any shine. "From the top of the page."

"You want me throwing with right or left?"

"Can you do left?"

"Yep."

"Excellent. For the chair, both like in rehearsal." The director slides back into his chair watching the monitor. "Camera? Rolling... Action."

You watch as Dieter grabs a glass of prop wine, throwing it back and tossing the glass into the fireplace furiously.

"She won't even look at me," he growls to himself, shrugging the coat angrily from his shoulders to reveal a starched lawn shirt underneath. "Acts as if she doesn't want me."

He tugs at the cravat around his neck before pouring another glass. He drinks this one quickly murmuring about how the woman he loves has become a stranger to him.

"He's magnificent," a voice whispers beside you. Its Mia dressed in a robe, holding a cup of tea. She's staring at Dieter with stars in her eyes.

The director calls for a cut to reset, something about the lighting. Mia smiles over at you, taking the seat with her name on it as Dieter stands with the director talking quietly. You notice his eyes swinging in your direction and so you focus on Mia next to you.

"I've watched him since I was a teenager," she admits with a soft blush. "He was my first celeb crush."

"Really?"

Mia giggles and nods before taking a sip of her tea. Her large eyes trail over to Dieter once more.

"Is he single?"

You blink. "I think so, yeah."

"Do you think I'm his type?"

You want to laugh. "You're young, beautiful, talented and you're a fan of his. Trust me, you're his type."

"But?"

"Honestly?" You grimace at the concern in her features. "Dieter is a lot of fun. Not really serious, not really...."

You trail off thoughtfully a moment.

"Your star is on the rise, Mia. And from what I've seen of this industry that can be easily tarnished by being seen with the wrong person."

"You make it seem like he's a murderer."

"No, murder is too much work for Dieter," you say with false musing. "I'm sure he'd just get me to do it for him."

Mia hides another giggle behind her hand. You grin at her before growing somber.

"Honestly Mia, Dieter is a great person. He's got a great heart. I just don't think his reputation would be great for you. He's got a laundry list of drug use, saying pretty outrageous stuff on the red carpet," you swallow. "I would just hate for your reputation to suffer because you wanted to date your celebrity crush."

Mia nods thoughtfully, draining the rest of her tea. You feel bad, but at the same time you know what you're talking about. You've seen the hypocrisy of Hollywood taking down women for entering into high profile relationships with notorious bad boys. Mia is too talented to have that happen to her.

While she doesn’t say anything further, you don’t miss the way she continues to stare at Dieter.

Ireland is gorgeous. You've rented a car so the time not spent working on Dieter work is spent exploring the Emerald Isle. You love the verdant surroundings, the amazing locals, the landscapes that take your breath away.

You meet so many kind people, many of them tourists. When they hear your accent they want to take you for a pint and a chat but you always decline. You don't want to have to explain why you don't drink.

Most evenings are spent going over lines with Dieter for the next day’s shooting. Otherwise it's scheduling his meetings, checking in with Diane about his sponsorship posts. And while you grow happier by the day out here, Dieter is quite the opposite.

After the first week you noticed him looking a little down in the mouth. You told yourself it was just a bad mood. But now almost two months in he's become unbearable. Snapping at you, spending a lot of time in his art room. He doesn't want to run lines with you anymore, he hires an acting coach that arrives looking frazzled and they seclude themselves in the office for hours.

At first you assumed they were fucking, but the few times you've passed by to get to your bedroom you can hear them running lines. Dieter always sounds so frustrated, near his breaking point.

You wonder why he stopped running them with you. Was it the sex? It was just a one-time thing.

Dieter continues growing worse, now more snappy and irritable than usual. His morning mediation has ceased entirely. He smokes cigarettes in the garden outside, even in the drizzly afternoon weather.

It all comes to a head when you're woken from a dead sleep to the sound of the front door being slapped and your name being called.

"I wanna fuck again," Dieter tells you, his mouth tainted with whisky when you open the door. He pulls up your shirt, kissing your belly sloppily. "Take off your shirt this time, I wanna see your tits."

You're in no mood. You shove him off of you angrily because you know this horny, loud, rapidly moving Dieter. He's very familiar.

"You're on something."

Dieter shrugs, his eyes on your expanded chest. He wants to see your tits so fucking badly he can't stand it. His hands go to cup them, his mouth parted. “Did a bump with some of the crew. No biggie.”

“Dieter!”

“What?” he challenges. “Just being the guy you always think I am. Some addict loser.”

You feel your face fall at this admission. You think back to how you accused him of buying drugs that day. The hurt look that had crossed his features.

"You can't do this Dieter," you tell him as you jerk back away from his outstretched fingers. "You promised."

"Don't nag me," he scowls when he can see you're keeping your clothes on.

"I'm telling you the facts," you reply. "You promised Diane! And even if you didn't, you told me you wanted this kid."

"I do!"

"Then what the fuck are you doing? You want this kid to end up with some junkie for a father?" You're practically hissing. "Late to set, doing hard drugs, what is going on?"

Dieter tries to turn from you but you grip his shoulder, spinning him.

"Tell me!"

"They don't like me here," Dieter barks out at you, causing you to recoil from him. "They don't think I'm good enough to be in this movie. I can see it in their eyes!"

Animosity drops from your shoulders like an unwelcome jacket. Immediately you soften.

"Dieter," your tone is gentle. "Why would they have hired you if you weren't talented enough?"

"I do action movies, not this Jane Austen shit," Dieter moans, throwing himself into the couch. "I'm no good."

Suddenly the agitation, the long hours spent with his acting coach all makes sense to you.

"I've seen your stuff Dieter," you tell him. "It's great when you really put your heart and soul into it."

His large eyes are so hopeful staring up at you.

"I mean it," you say, your hand reaching out instinctively towards him. He takes it, pressing his cheek into your touch and letting his eyes fall shut.

His stubbled cheek nuzzles against your palm, like an eager cat desperate to lay claim. Suddenly it's too familiar, too domestic and you whip your hand back from him. His dark eyes dart open with a snap.

"You're just saying that," Dieter says, feeling rejected as you pull back from him. "Just saying it to make your job easier."

He pushes himself from the couch, ignoring your calls for him to stop and come back, to talk this out. He slams the door to his bedroom and you can only assume he's locking himself up to do more of whatever he bought.

Fuck what am I gonna do?!

You can't call Diane, it's far too late back in the US and even if you did what can she do?

You scroll through the list of names in your phone. You don't want to get Dieter in trouble with the director or the-

Your thumb hovers over the name MIA ROWE/JOSH in your contact list. You type hurriedly.

[6:55pm] Is there any chance Mia could come by to talk Dieter off a ledge? He's panicking about the movie and I'm outta options.

[6:55 pm] JOSH:One sec. I'll ask.

[6:58 pm] JOSH:Yep. Now good?

When Mia arrives shortly after looking glamorous even in her jeans and sweater, you thank her profusely.

"I don't know how much you know about Dieter and his drug use-" you start, stopping when she raises a wavering hand.

"I know enough," she promises you. "My dad was an addict."

Oh. You worry now that this is far too much for her.

"He's been acting weird the last few days," she confides hanging up her jacket. "I suspected. Honestly I'm relieved that you called."

Relief floods you. "He's in his bedroom, do you want me to-"

"No no, you relax," she says giving you a wink. "I've got it from here."

Dieter is lying on his side when the knock comes to his door. His coke is gone and so is the elated feeling that goes along with it. Now he feels snippy and angry. Your disappointed face flashes in his mind and he winces.

"Go away."

"Dieter?"

That's not your voice. He twists to look over his shoulder at Mia slowly cracking the door open.

"Can I come in?"

What the hell.

"Yeah. Sure."

He forces himself to a sitting position, his head hung to the side as she sits next to him on his bed.

"Your PA told me you're upset about filming and-"

"That I'm the worst fucking actor on set? Yeah."

Dieter throws himself dramatically back onto the bed.

"You're not."

Mia smiles gently at him, her blonde locks falling into her eyes. She takes his hand gently in hers, rubbing his tattoo softly. He softens, raising himself to a sitting position again.

"I'm just as nervous as you are," she confides, her hand over his. "Every day I go to set I'm terrified they'll tell me I'm bad or that they're going to replace me."

"You?" Dieter says in shock. "Yeah right."

"I'm serious," Mia insists. "You're so good, Dieter! Better than I thought you were."

It's been so long since he heard these words from a colleague. It makes him feel good, makes him feel in control. She's smiling at him and she's so pretty.

"I was so excited to work with you on this," she confides. "And I promise you've exceeded everyone's expectations. Everyone talks about how good you are in this."

"Really?"

"Really."

Dieter is like any actor, he's all ego and hearing her say these sweet, wonderful things is warming him.

Her hand goes to his curls, gently carding her fingers through his hair. Her intention is very clear, she didn't just come here to comfort him. She wants him. It feels like so long since he's been wanted like this.

He's been good. No parties and until tonight no drugs. No women or men. He's been like a fucking saint. You yourself don't count. You pretty much told him that when he fucked you. So what's the harm in a little playing behind closed doors?

His mouth crashes into Mia's, hands around her back in an instant. She welcomes the kiss with a whimper, her hands circling his waist as he deepens the kiss.

This feels really good. Mia is beautiful and so gentle. She accepts his touches, enjoys how he wraps himself around her. She doesn't pull away like you do.

He pulls her onto his lap, letting her grind against his already aching erection as they continue to kiss. She's got her hands in his hair, gripping and tugging as they kiss. It drives him fucking wild.

His hands go to the button of her jeans but before they can do more, Mia gives a soft laugh, pecking him on the cheek and standing.

"Got carried away."

"I liked it."

"I'll like it more when I know it's not the coke," she tells him honestly.

"It's not."

"Guess we'll find out," she says smiling as she heads for his bedroom door. "I'll see you on set tomorrow then."

"Yeah," Dieter smiles dreamily. "You will."

You don't know what Mia said to Dieter but he's a changed man. For the rest of the month he is on time, professional and sober. Most nights he's over at Mia's rental having dinner (and you assume fucking). He's been very covert, never spending the night, never touching her on set in a way that's not professional.

Last week he began wearing cologne and you notice his customary Crocs are traded in for dress shoes.

"Mia's taking me to this Thai place," Dieter tells you with a smile one evening as you finish up your debrief about the intimacy coordinator scenes next week. "Then we're running lines at her place."

"But that's-" our thing your mind finishes for you. You hold in the frown and just nod, telling him to have a good night as he waves goodbye.

And that's when it starts. This feeling of being left behind.

It's what you wanted.

Yes, you wanted Dieter to stop treating you like a delicate thing. Wanted him to stop smothering you with attention. You wanted him out of your hair so you could stop having to sneak around with Josh.

Except now you sort of miss Dieter.

You miss his annoying way of chewing gum, making it crack against his molars. You miss how he leans over the back of the couch when he walks by and catches you watching something that interests him. You miss how he asks how you're feeling and the delicate way he cups you tummy when you let him.

You even miss the cigarette smell that occasionally clings to his favorite cardigans (although that changes when it begins to make you sick).

You think about inviting Josh over here tonight. So far it's been frantic kissing against pub walls and one remarkably disappointing phone sex experience that left you more frustrated than anything.

You're just so paranoid he's going to be able to tell you're pregnant that you've been holding back.

You walk to the bathroom, having to pee again. For the first time in a while you take a look at yourself. Your clothes are so very baggy and you go to great lengths not to look at your naked body. So when you pull up the t-shirt and stand to the side you're shocked at the difference.

You look pregnant.

Your stomach is pronounced. You can definitely see it swell and the sight takes your breath away. You touch your belly, rolling your hands over it and giggling nervously as you stare at your reflection.

Holy shit. There's a baby in there.

For a while it just looked like you were permanently bloated. But now at five months you can definitely tell this is not a food baby.

You look at yourself a moment longer before pulling out your phone. You rest a hand over your belly, and take a photo of you in the mirror's reflection. You smile serenely, shocked at how natural you look in this pose.

You consider keeping it for yourself but this is a nice memory to share on the app. Dieter loves shit like this and he's been making your life easier as of late. Besides you won't keep this memory. It will be scrubbed from your mind the second the kid is born. No mementos needed. But Dieter deserves them.

You walk back to the main room, hands absently rolling over your stomach. You're asleep on the couch when Dieter arrives shortly thereafter. You feel his hands on your arm, gently nudging you awake. You blink, rubbing the sleep from your eyes to see him standing above you next to the couch. You glance at the clock on the wall.

"Why are you home so early?"

"I saw the app alert," Dieter says breathlessly as if he’s run the entire way home. "I can't believe - can I see? Touch it? Please?"

He came all this way, leaving Mia's early just to see your belly?

You nod with a yawn, lifting the shirt up over your belly. As Dieter takes in the swell of your stomach his eyes blow wide. He drops to his knees beside you on the couch, large hands roving over your expanded flesh.

"Fuck, he's really in there."

"Ultrasound wasn't proof enough?" You tease stretching.

"Photo is one thing but actually seeing this? Feeling it?" He marvels, shaking his head. "Just makes it so real. My baby is in there."

You nod, swallowing. "How was your night?"

"Good," Dieter answers before looking dreamy. "Mia's amazing."

"Mmm."

You watch as he presses an ear to your belly, his eyes closed as he listens. He's listening to the sound of your pregnant belly. Before you can stop him he's turned his head and pressed a soft, tender kiss to the side of your abdomen.

"I love you," he murmurs to your belly, eyes closed. "I love you my little baby. And when I finally meet you I'm gonna spoil you and take you and over the world."

Your heart goes to your throat as you blink back tears.

"You're never gonna go without," he promises quietly. "We're gonna be so happy."

For the first time since this all began you start to imagine Dieter holding his child. A tiny thing with curly hair that gurgles up at him. A mixture of you and the sweet man cradling your belly like its spun glass.

"Are you okay?" Dieter asks, large eyes concerned.

"Yeah, why?"

"You just look upset.”

“Just tired you lie, rubbing at your blotchy face. “Anyway. How was dinner? Must be good since you’ve been hanging with Mia a lot lately.”

“Yeah,” Dieter breathes with a wide grin. “She’s really great.”

“Mmm,” you nod, your attention on the muted television.

"She likes kids," Dieter adds.

"Oh good," you nod, shuffling your foot anxiously against the coffee table. "That's great, Dieter."

"What do you think of the name Karl-Jose if it's a boy or Mila-Ana if it's a girl?" Dieter asks, his eyes trained on your stomach. "You know, to honor my German and Latin roots."

"You can name it Lemon-Pillow Bravo for all I care," you answer honestly. You continue looking at the muted TV not really taking in anything, but desperate not to fall into the endless warmth of his eyes.

As far as you're concerned this kid growing inside you is a job. You're not getting attached.

"What’s your background?" Dieter asks curiously, his hand still resting on your belly. "That can factor into-"

"Why would it?" You ask frowning. "I'm not any part of this child's life remember?"

Dieter’s face which had been full of such joy moments earlier quickly sobers.

"Right."

The hand slips from your belly and you watch as he stands, moving to his art room, leaving you in silence as you bite back tears.

"It's TikTok live," you explain for the twentieth time in the last hour as Dieter’ hair stylist heads out the door. "Its promotion for the comedy you filmed last year, remember? Ninja cowboy?"

Dieter winces as he recalls that drunken nightmare. A job for a friend that went way over budget and way over filming schedule. He knows it's going to be shit which is why he's using Dieter to gain favorable press before the release.

You glance over to see you employer looking pensively at his breakfast. He's dressed with the clothes his stylist sent over and thanks to his grooming team her in Ireland he looks good in his charcoal sweater and curls brushed back and defined with gel.

"I hate this stuff," Dieter announces as he takes a bite of toast. "Can't you just do it for me?"

He's tired bags under his eyes that the makeup artist who just left tried to cover to the best of her abilities.

Dieter was at Mia's late last night going over lines and making out heavily. He's trying to take things slow with her but it’s hard. She's so eager to be with him, never shying from his touches. It feels so good to be wanted.

"That's not how it...works," you say wincing and putting a hand over your sternum.

Dieter notices immediately, almost choking on his dry toast in his effort to get to you. His hands fly to your clavicle.

"You okay?"

"Calm down," you say pushing him gently back away from you. "It's just heartburn."

"I was just trying to help," Dieter mumbles, throwing himself back into his chair.

It's so frustrating with you sometimes; you blow so hot and cold. It makes him feel unsure and anxious (when he's not turned on out of his mind.) Mia is so much easier and she's so warm all the time. She can also be a bit naive because at her age she doesn't have much life experience.

Mia loves to hear all about Dieter though, loves to talk about the movies of his she loved watching growing up. Mia hangs on his every word and Dieter can't deny that he loves it. It feels good to be adored.

So then why does he still crave your attention? Why does he flush when your eyes linger on his face? Is it really just that you're carrying his baby or is it something more?

Even now he feels his heart pick up as you come up sit next to him at the table.

"If you really wanted to help, you'd focus and get ready because you're going live on the MGM account in like three minutes," you say with frustration, your mouth in a curl of frustration. The baby has been keeping you up lately and its making you feel irritable.

That and you desperately want Dieter to take you to bed again.

But that can’t happen. The lines are getting too blurred for him, you can see that. Plus you’re pretty sure he’s with Mia and she’s been really good for him over here. You don’t want to screw that up.

"People will ask you questions here," you say pointing to the phone screen you've set up on the tripod in front of him. "Make sure at least every fourth question ties in to the movie. Release date, co-stars, that kind of stuff. Just don’t Rampart it."

You notice Dieter nodding at you in the phones display along with the large smear of grape jelly at the corner of his mouth.

"Come there," you say with a roll of your eyes as you turn to him.

In habit you grab his face, thumb coming to rest on his lower lip to swipe the jelly there as you smile at him in mock exasperation.

Dieter leans forward; eyes never breaking from yours before his mouth comes crashing into yours. His hands are on either side of your neck, pulling you to him.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he rasps against your mouth before pressing his lips to yours more fully once more. This is when you would have pushed from him. But instead your lips parted so he could lick into your mouth, making you whimper.

At the sound Dieter groans and you realize your hand is carding through his curls, messing them up.

The beep of your phone alarm goes off startling you both into breaking apart. Dieter pulls back, his dark eyes scanning your wide-eyed gaze.

"Dieter what-"

Fuck. He read that wrong. He fucking overstepped. Fuck.

"I'm sorry," Dieter says quickly. "I just thought-"

"-I was getting the jelly off your mouth before the live."

He snatches his hands back as if he's been burnt.

"That's good. That's great," Dieter stammers before wiping at his mouth with the back of his sleeve. "Better?"

"Yeah, totally," you stammer as you look back at the phone. "Okay, it's starting in two minutes. I'm gonna sit off to the side here in case you get desperate. But for the most part pretend that I'm not here okay?"

Dieter hates doing press, especially when he's somewhere without the guidance of an interviewer. He's so easily distracted, so prone to saying the wrong thing. His PR guy spent the last hour going over his talking points and what to avoid but this just makes Dieter more stressed, convicted he's going to fuck up.

Dieter nods, sitting facing the phone before swallowing and wincing. "Fuck why is my throat so dry?"

"I'll get you some tea," you offer before you go to the kitchen and start the kettle. You try not to think about how your lips are tingling from the kiss.

Things are getting complicated. This was just supposed to be a release based thing. Nothing about that kiss felt impersonal; in fact it felt decidedly intimate. Your second alarm goes off, it’s about to go live. You cross the kitchen to stand beside him.

"Ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

You step out of frame before pressing the red button on the phone and motioning to Dieter.

"Okay, go."

You walk back to pour the water over the teabag and you can hear Dieter behind you greeting everyone and thanking them for attending.

You come back to the table with the teacup to see Dieter shooting the phone and then you a stricken look.

"Jesus," Dieter mutters as streams of text scroll by. "What the... what the fuck do I -"

You roll your eyes off-screen, trying to speak softly to him. You mouth the words exasperatedly.

"Don’t swear! Just take a deep breath, look at the questions and answer them."

Dieter feels panic overtaking him. There's so many questions, so many names. He feels his heart starting to hammer anxiously.

"You've got this," you whisper.

Dieter looks at you and he feels his heartbeat returning to normal. There's something grounding in your expression, the same thing he sees you every time you hold his gaze. That steady, calming presence that tells him he'll be okay. You're the only person who gets to him like that.

"Okay," he says after a beat and you watch as he transforms into the confident, brash Dieter you've always known.

"Let's do this shit." He gives a broad, crooked grin to the phone and picks one of the questions at random. "Okay Pdcv2344 asks 'did I enjoy my nude scene in the Colossal Indemnify flick I made."

Dieter lifts a brow and shoots the camera a sardonic look.

"It was a nude scene with Gal Gadot pretending to ride me. What do you think?"

You roll your eyes and hold in a laugh from where you sit opposite him at the table. He goes on like this several more questions before he clears his throat. You remember the tea steeping at your elbow and fish the bag from the mug.

You hand him the mug, only your hand showing briefly in the screen. Dieter shoots you a grateful look as he takes it from you.

"Thanks baby," Dieter murmurs with a smile at you before his attention is drawn back to the scrolling messages. "No, I didn't wear a eyeliner in Cliff Beasts 2."

You feel your face twist into a grimace at the term of endearment used so publicly. You can only hope no one observes or brings it up. Dieter doesn't seem to notice the misstep. He's sipping his tea and answering questions. He seems to be enjoying himself until somewhere in the fifteen minute mark.

"What the fuck?"

You look up from your phone to see Dieter squinting into the phone. He's confused because digital sunglasses keep whipping over his eyes.

You raise your brows at him.

"These sunglasses keep going on my face when I'm trying to talk," Dieter says pointing at the camera. "Is that me? Am I doing that?"

"Those are gifts," you tell him with a smirk. "They're sending you gifts."

"Huh? How are fake sunglasses a gift?"

You hold in a giggle at this. Sometimes he really does amuse you.

"I thought you used TikTok all the time?"

"Not the lives. Are they using their own money for these gifts? Like real money?"

"Yeah."

"Fuck no!" Dieter frowns at the camera. "Don't send me gifts you guys. I have money. Don't waste yours.”

Dieter frowns when glasses and now a cowboy hat keep appearing digitally.

"Fuck, now there's a cowboy hat!"

"Okay well you can turn the gift option off," you tell him trying not to laugh at how stressed he seems. "Just press-"

"Can't you just do it?" Dieter asks, his baleful eyes pleading at you off-screen. "Please? You're so much faster."

You cringe at the thought of being seen but you nod, swinging around into the chair beside him. Dieter glances at you in the reflection of the camera and smiles.

"Hey everyone, this is my assistant," Dieter tells the crowd introducing and pointing at you as you give an awkward wave. "Best one around. I can't do anything without her."

"It's true," you chirp with a laugh. "I'll be one sec folks; just here for some technical difficulties then you can get back to asking Dieter questions."

You take a moment to press the buttons disabling the gifts option. Dieter watches you, amused at the flush on your cheeks. You hate being in front of the camera.

"There you go, no more cowboy hats or sunglasses," you murmur with a soft smile at him that he returns. His eyes drop to your mouth a moment before he nods.

"Thanks," Dieter murmurs with a smile, watching you slide back to the opposite side of the table, sure not to let anyone see your belly.

Dieter drags his eyes away from you to look back at the questions.

"Hey, Granguy66 wants to know if you're single," Dieter says with a waggle of his brows in your direction. "What should I say?"

You swallow, feeling suddenly strange. You know it's a joke, a laugh. But you feel odd replying in earnest. You decide on your response and deliver it with a grin.

"Say that Ninja Cowboy is coming to theatres this Friday so they better buy their tickets now."

[2:44 pm] JOSH: Thought you'd want to see this. Mia said to send it to you.

It's a photo of the cast of the film smooshed in the back of a carriage. Everyone is laughing. Dieter's hair is brushed and he's got a grinning Mia Rowe tightly against him, leaning over his lap to make sure the photographer can see her.

Dieter looks happy and relaxed and the sight of it makes you smile at the photograph. But at the same time it makes your stomach twist uncomfortably.

[2:45 pm] Thanks for sending this. Glad to see he's doing well.

[3:11 pm] Mia says that she and D are going to dinner tonight. He wanted me to tell you he forgot his phone and can you charge it?

[3:14pm] Of course he did. Yeah, I’ll charge it and have it ready for him before dinner. Can you tell him?

[3:14 pm] He’s asking if the rental needs more Bubble bath?? Wtf?

You smirk to yourself. Your check in code.

[3:14pm] Dieter just really loves baths. Tell him we’re all good here. All stocked up.

You glance down at your silenced phone and frown when you realize you've missed a call from your mother back home and guilt goes through you. You've been going all over Ireland, having amazing sex with Dieter and being distracted. You just send her texts and photos and the occasional email.

Your mother picks up on the second ring.

"Hi honey."

"Hey mom," you bite the inside of your cheek. "Sorry I haven't called lately."

"Oh that's no problem," your mom assures you. "I know you're busy. I just wanted to know if you're doing okay today."

Something in her tone stops your feet. The way she says ‘today.’

"Why wouldn't I be?"

There's a heavy pause then your mother's soft voice. "It's your father's birthday."

A feeling like a punch to the gut makes you wince. You erased it from your calendar, not wanting the reminder. But of course she hasn’t forgotten, wants you to remember them. You worked so hard not to think about these milestones with your dad gone but your mom seems to fixate on them.

"Right."

"Are you lighting a candle?"

"I will tonight."

"Good."

Your mother is big on lighting candles for those you've lost. She started with your grandparents and now your dad. It makes you sick looking at those flickering flames. Tears are starting at the corner of your eyes and a few PA's walk by giving you a friendly wave that you mirror weakly.

"Mom I have to go. I'm needed on set."

You hang up before she can say more but instead of the set you head for the shuttle. You don't want to be here anymore. You don’t want to think.

You want to forget. You want to pretend that you're fine. You want a distraction.

You push into the rental a short while later, your back and feet aching, your eyes swollen from suppressing tears into the cuff of your jacket. You need to just relax and forget about the world a moment, feel comforted.

You run yourself a bath, the scent of coconut bubbles filling the room. You strip down and slip into the bath, relishing in the warm water that surrounds you. You inhale deeply, cherishing the comfort of the coconut scent and gently lapping water. You turn the faucet off when it reaches just below your collarbone.

Your mind is busy though, despite the serene surroundings. You grab your phone next to the tub on the counter and settle back into the bubbles. You should be productive since you’re still technically on the clock.

For some reason the photo of Dieter and Mia is playing in your mind over and over. You click on instagram, searching up Mia's name and finding it there with its blue checkmark. She posts the normal things young women her age do; her doing yoga, shots of her at sunset, coffee drinking with friends, her dressed up for the Oscars. You're about to close out of the account before you see that she's posted something to her story. You click on it, feeling your breath leave you.

Her blonde head is on his shoulder and he's making one of his classic weird smirks at the camera she's holding up in front of them. She's written "This guy just makes me laugh all day" and tagged his account that he hasn't updated in months.

They look so... close.

You don't want to look at it anymore. You close out of the app and open up Reddit instead. You scroll into the Dieter Bravo subreddit. A habit you haven't indulged in for weeks due to distraction. The top post however has your eyes flying open.

Dieter Bravo secret affair? 5K upvotes, 4.8 replies.

Fuck have they learned about Mia’s crush on Dieter? Or is this all speculation like it was when Dieter was photographed with Bad Bunny? You click on the link, reading the paragraph starting the discussion and feel your heart clench.

Dieter Bravo is totally in love with his assistant. Look at these screenshots from his live.

One is you in the frame, focused on getting Dieter to understand the mechanics of the live gift feature before you're turning it off and one is when you just finished explaining gifts to him. He's got his

You can't help but feel your cheeks heating at the sight. While you were busy trying to help Dieter with his phone it seems he was busy staring at you.

And then there's the screenshot of your hand in frame handing Dieter his teacup. And the subtitle underneath: thanks baby.

You sort the comments by top, eyes scanning the thousands of comments in the discussion.

Holy shit the way he looks at her.

I heard he's dating some guy in Germany

How old is she?

My friend signed an NDA but she told me that Dieter totally fucked her in his hotel room after doing coke off her tits.

You can't tell me he's not smitten

He’s not the type to settle down so I hope she doesn’t fall too hard

He looks so hawt there

It's giving soulmates

She's cute! I hope they're happy together.

She's his employee!!!!! Stop being gross and assuming based on nothing!!!

Get urself a guy who looks at you like that

He called her baby. BABY. I'm fucking feral.

I love him your honor.

They're clearly fucking

She dresses like shit

This is how my husband looked at me during our first date. Fifty two years and three kids later he still looks at me that way.

For some reason this is the comment that stills your fingers.

You re-read it and your pathetic hormone-filled mind creates a tapestry of a future you’ll never have. One of you and Dieter older, watching your child playing in the pool. Dieter is looking at you with adoration as you press a kiss to his waiting mouth.

Stop it stop it stop it.

You need to forget this. You turn on your music, finding a blasting piece by NIN and let it overwhelm your brain. Your head tilts back against the tub, your eyes falling shut. In this moment you feel your mind fixed on the music, you feel your muscles releasing. You just want to stay in this moment forever…

“Hey you in there?”

Your eyes jolt open to see that the sky outside the small window is dark and the water you sit in is tepid. How long were you out for? You glance at the door with blurry eyes, hearing the gentle knock turning urgent and Dieter fumbling with the knob.

“Hey are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you call out, scrambling out of the tub and tugging on a robe. “Sorry, yeah I fell asleep.”

You twist the knob open and look at him towering over you in the doorframe, his dark eyes heavy with worry.

“What’s going on? You okay?”

“Just tired,” you say about to say more when your eyes fly open in realization.

“Shit! I forgot to plug your phone in!” you say, moving past him to plug it in now in the kitchen where he left it. He inhales the scent of coconut from your skin as you sail by and feels his stomach twist pleasurably.

He watches you fumbling to plug the charger in and it flashes green, showing its charging. It’ll be a bit before it’s finished though. Fuck, you only have the one job here in Ireland; be Dieter’s assistant. You fought so hard to keep your job and you’re completely fucking it up these days.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“Hey hey,” Dieter grabs your elbow, noting the sheen to your eyes. “What’s going on?”

“Just a shitty day,” you say sighing heavily. “I’m really sorry about the phone.”

“Fuck the phone,” Dieter says with a shrug. His dark eyes are scanning your face. He can see that you’re upset. “I wanna know what has you so upset.”

He sounds so earnest, like he actually cares. Sometimes it’s hard to forget that he’s a really good actor.

“Nothing,” you insist with a false smile. “I got some of your dress shirts sent back from the cleaners. They’re hung in your closet in case you want to change. And uh-“

Your words falter as you look up into Dieter’s face to see him staring at you with an unfocussed look in his eyes. He’s staring at your chest and you glance down to see the deep vee of the robe has exposed much of your cleavage.

The realization should embarrass you, but if anything it makes your breathing come out shallow. The familiar thrumming is back between your legs, making you press your thighs together tightly. Dieter observes this, eyes moving shrewdly from your hips back to your face.

"You need some help," Dieter says huskily and it isn't a question. His hands are already at your waist, thumbs hovering over the sash of your plush robe.

"No...I...."

"I told you if you need release you come to me," Dieter murmurs. "Anytime you need it."

"But your dinner with Mia," you tell him worriedly.

"You come first," he says without thinking. His hands have already begun untying your robe. His eyes dart to your face. "If you want it."

"Yeah," you nod, feeling overcome. "Yeah, I want it."

The second the words leave your mouth he's tugging your robe open

You easily succumb to Dieter's mouth and hands and it's not long before he has you beneath him in his large bed, both of you naked and writhing in the expensive sheets. He's already made you come with his mouth and now his cock hits deliciously deep.

"I can't.... You're so fucking wet," he breathes into your mouth, eyes fixed on yours as you gaze up at him. "So fucking tight."

"Dieter," you groan, allowing him to suck your tongue into his mouth. He kisses as deeply as he fucks before pulling back and brushing the hair from your face looking at your kiss-swollen lips and heavy lidded eyes.

"You're so gorgeous when you let go," he murmurs gently, his hips moving lazily over yours.

You don't want to look in his eyes for too long. It makes it too intimate so you touch your forehead to his. The two of you watch where he enters you, soaked in your arousal. Your belly protrudes deliciously and Dieter realizes that this may be the last time he can fuck you in this position.

"We look so good," Dieter groans, brows saddling. You can't reply, your eyes are cheating to the back of your head now because the pleasure is building.

He fucks you hard into the mattress moaning into the crook of your neck all manner of vulgarities. You cling to him; arms wrapped so tightly around his neck you worry you're suffocating him. But he's not complaining, he's kissing your neck, hips rolling against yours.

The only sound in the room is your combined panting and the sound of his flesh hitting yours as he withdraws and sheaths himself completely over and over and when he comes he does so holding your body tightly to his.

"You didn't come," he pants with a frown. He can tell. He didn't feel that sweet fluttering and clench around his cock. He wants it.

"I didn't care about that," you tell him, kissing him gently. "I just wanted... I just wanted to feel you."

You can't explain it better than that but Dieter doesn't press you. He looks at you with a serious look before nodding and withdrawing from you. You go to leave the bed and go to your room but Dieter holds you to him.

"Stay here a little longer,” he huffs gently against your earlobe.

In this bed you won't be alone. You won't have to distract yourself in your room. You won’t have to think about the bad things.

"Okay."

You’ve forgotten about his date with Mia. Forgotten about everything awful with your Dad. All you feel and think right now is about Dieter and how good he smells and feels wrapped around you.

Dieter feels how you relax into his arms, something you’ve never really done. Just laying with you here in his bed, in sheets that will now smell of you has his heart aching instead of his cock. He could do this for hours, just holding you.

“Would it really be insane?” Dieter asks before he can stop himself, his voice huffing along the back of your neck. “I mean, you’re carrying my kid. Would us being together-“

Panic overtakes you. What the fuck is he suggesting? This is exactly why you didn’t want this to happen. Dieter is such a romantic at heart, so easily swayed if he’s fucked someone. He doesn’t know what he’s saying. And you refuse to be another phase for Dieter, even if he doesn’t know that’s what he is going through.

“Dieter I’m your employee,” you snap, interrupting him. “And after this baby is out of me I won’t even be in the same city as you.”

Dieter feels his body go tense. “Since when?”

“Since I agreed to do this for three hundred thousand dollars,” you inform him. You can practically hear the wheels turning in Dieter’s head as you say this.

“What does that matter?”

“I’m going to pay off my mom’s mortgage and I’m going back to school in Sacramento.”

“Wait, what the fuck? Sacramento? Since when?”

Suddenly the bed feels oppressive and Dieter’s arms feel constricting. You pull away from him, going to grab your robe. He watches your body move from the bed, a vessel of fertility and beauty and mystifying frustration.

“Wait, can’t we talk about this?”

“No,” you say sharply, tying the sash around your waist. “Dieter we talked about this being a release-based system. Not a romantic relationship.”

Dieter feels as if he’s been slapped.

“What about Mia? She’s waiting for you at some restaurant right now.” You glance at the clock before crossing your arms over your chest. “If you leave here now you can still make dessert.”

“You want me to go?”

“You should.”

A coldness enters Dieter’s eyes at that bitten off reply and he nods before pulling himself from the warmth of the bed. You watch him move through the room in his boxers, closing the door behind him with a firm finality.

[Personal Diary D. Bravo – 21 weeks]

Places I want to take Baby Bravo

Chile (show him where I grew up)

Disneyland (when he’s old enough)

London: maybe he’ll get an accent

Fiji – mini island (no paps)

Places I want to take her

Chile

Hawaii –

Buenos Aires (teach her tango)

Italy (she loves pizza)

Anywhere she wants

Today Dieter is filming in Powerscourt.

You are pacing outside the set; far away enough that you won't disturb filming as you finish up a phone call with Diane back home, setting up a sponsorship meeting that Dieter is in the running for. You hang up the phone just as you wander around the back garden of the palatial estate they’ve rented for this scene.

You’re about to turn back and head inside, your feet are getting swollen these days. But movement catches your eyes and you pause.

Two figures are tucked away behind the building; Mia leaning back against the wall, eyes tilted up coquettishly as she takes a puff of the cigarette. Dieter has one palm flat against the wall above her shoulder, angling himself towards her.

You can't hear what they're saying to one another but you watch them both laugh passing the cigarette between themselves. It reminds you of the teens in high school who would sneak off at lunch, sharing smokes in secrecy.

It feels intimate, like something you shouldn't see. You watch him smile at her, his dark eyes soft as he moves his lips to hers and you hold your breath as she meets him halfway, mouth pressing against his.

You know what that mouth feels like. Soft and strong. Tasting of whiskey or cigarettes or that mint gum he's always chewing. You feel a longing sigh escape you.

You feel something in your gut twisting and you realize it must be the baby. You turn away before you have to watch anymore of this, your face in a grim line. You take a seat back inside on the set, wincing as the staff go to retrieve Dieter and Mia from outside.

The two of them come back onto the set with secret smiles on their faces.

“Hey,” Dieter says coming to squeeze your shoulder gently. “Did you get a hold of Diane?”

“Yep,” you force a smile on your face. “She wants us all to face time later tonight.”

“I might have plans,” Dieter murmurs, his eyes sailing to Mia getting her lipstick touched up. She feels his gaze on her and casts a small smile in his direction.

You feel a sickening sensation in your gut and you clear your throat, trying to come off as casual. You twist the ring on your finger, the one he gave you, and try not to look upset.

“We’ll work around your schedule.”

The scene begins as Mia wanders into the library to see Dieter in a drunken rage before he grabs a chair and throws it brutally through a mirror. You watched that scene being filmed a few weeks ago, but this is the second part.

You watch the power in his shoulders and muscles twisting under his lawn shirt as he throws the chair off-screen. He spins back around; dark eyes fixed on a cowering Mia dressed in a flimsy nightdress who backs enticingly against a bookcase.

“And now,” Dieter drawls, his voice husky. “I get what’s mine.”

He goes to Mia, gripping her by the back of the neck and kissing her fiercely. Mia feigns horror, trying to back away from him, but all too soon her arms are coming to wrap around his neck as he grips her thigh, urging it around his waist.

You can’t watch this.

You slide off the chair and head to the shuttle, needing to go back to the rental.

When the director calls cut shortly after and Dieter’s eyes rise to where you were sitting, he's deflated to see the chair empty.

#dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo #dieter x reader #dieter bravo smut #pedro pascal dieter #fanfics #pedro pascal fanfiction

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milequaritchsslut · 10 months

Text

Chapter Two—Never Enough

Chapter Summary: Miguel comes back into your life, leaving you no choice but to except your fate with him.

Pairing: Ex Boyfriend Stalker!Miguel x Fem!Reader

Warnings: blackmail, dark themes, forced relationship (?), yelling, pet names, teasing, non-consensual photographs/ videos, mentions of stalking and watching, itsy bitsy mention of masturbating, one sided attraction kinda,

Series Masterlist

“Don’t give me those eyes mami” a smirk dancing onto his lips, walking past you and into your living room. He had a large black backpack on him, dirt covering the sides. He looked different then the last time you saw him, he looked bigger, his muscles showing through his baggy hoodie and his hair seemed longer.

You were speechless, just letting him walk in. You turned around and blinked your eyes in disbelief as you stared at him, trying to figure out of this was happening or not. But you quickly snapped out of it and stormed towards him, glaring up at his tall form.

“Get out Miguel” you hissed, eyes narrowing as your hands found their way to your hips.

“Aw c’mon don’t be so cold mami” he teased, before throwing his backpack on the couch. He snaked his hands around your waist and smirked down at you, canines showing through his plush lips.

“I know you missed me princesa” admiring your eyes as they stared up into his. He missed being so close to you, having his arms wrapped around you like this. He missed your soft skin, the goosebumps that grew on your skin when he got close to you just proved his point.

You hadn’t heard that name in awhile, nobody else had called you that in months. You forced yourself to hide your smile and blush, he just had this way with words that got under your skin. You rolled your eyes, your lour growing brighter as you had that cute little nose scrunch.

“Did you not hear me? I said move, get outta here! Scram!” You yelled, scowling at him. He shook his head and smiled at you. Like he knew this was going to happen. He walked over to the couch and grabbed his bag, placing it on the kitchen table and motioned you to come close to him.

“Come here pretty girl” he chuckled, opening his bag and spread thousands of pictures on the table. Pictures of you. You gasped as your eyes widened at the display in front of you. There were so many, pictures of you walking to work, brushing your teeth, even one of you sleeping. But your attention stayed on the naked pictures of you, bare with nothing on. A blush grew on your face, your expression turning embarrassed right away.

“I never really left ya know, you just couldn’t see me” he smirked out, satisfied with your reaction and expressions. You didn’t say anything, going through all the photos he had. Blinking and trying to comprehend that you had a stalker for the last 3 months. He handed you his unlocked phone, opened in the photos app. He played a video of you showering, and one of you doing well ya know. Your gasp became louder at the sight, the volume being turned on all the way.

“Turn that off!” You shouted, pushing the video away and hiding your blushing face as you tried to catch your breath. He smiled and did as you asked, putting his phone back into his pants. He watched you the whole time, proud of his months of work and effort. He waited a few minutes before he spoke again.

“So, im gonna need something from you baby. A very very small agreement from you. That ok?” He asked sarcastically as his leer grew more and more by every word. You turned your attention to him finally, and gave him the nastiest glare.

“Get out of my house right now!” You screamed anger rising at the situation and him.

“If you don’t accept my offer I might just have to send these to your work, and maybe even” he got close to your ear and smirked. “Your family” your eyes practically burst out of your sockets at his words, mouth hanging open as he backed away and stared down at you.

You couldn’t believe he was actually blackmailing you right now, or all people you hadn’t expected your ex boyfriend to be blackmailing you. You didn’t really have a choice, you pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed, trying to weigh out your options. After a moment or two you finally looked up at him and rolled your eyes.

“What’s the offer?” You sighed, arms crossing with an obvious annoyed expression forming on your features.

“You get back with me, follow my rules like you were supposed to before we broke up. And in turn these photos and videos wont ever see the light of day” hands coming to place the pictures back into his bag.

You just glared at him, giving him the nastiest look as you stared him down. You were so done with him, and his bullshit. He was really getting on your nerves and now he’s blackmailing you.

“Be so fr rn Miguel” he groaned, rolling your eyes as you stared at him, leaning onto your hand placed on the table.

“I don’t lie to you mami” he chuckled throwing his bag to the ground and snaking his hands around your waist again.

“C’mon I know you missed me baby, I heard you that night when you-“

“Shut it” you scolded, letting out a hard sigh as you rolled your eyes. Your annoyance levels were rising higher and higher by him just being here.

“Is that a yes?” He teased, his fondness of your little attitude growing bigger the longer he admired you. He genuinely missed you so much, his nights were long, he only saw you through his camera or in his dreams. You were an angel to this man, a being sent from the heavens above. He would do anything and everything in his power to have you, you could call it obsession or love, nonetheless he would do anything for the woman in front of him. He would beg and get on his knees for you, he would tear the sun itself from the sky if you asked him to. He was head over heels for you, though you would never know just how much he loved you, he showed it in the only way he could.

You stared at the ground as your tongue poked through your cheek in thought. You finally looked up at him and let out a frustrated sigh. A small and quiet yes fell from your lips as you rolled your eyes.

He smirked down at you, cupping your cheek knowing he won this time. He kissed your lips gently, his lips were surprisingly soft and the passion in it was half expected. As he pulled away he pulled you into him and hugged you tightly, holding his soulmate as close as he possibly could.

“I love you mami”

Taglist: @lavender-223 @pix-stuff @theandromedastar @blank33 @all4koo @22carolina08 @ionly-luvhim @ghost1yd3mon @clzt4 @uziasiwa @asrt5 @2cciberrylee @tena17 @myartistrash02 @urmotherswhor3 i @day-dreams-posts @hayley1623 @gl0r10us @mx-mekla @bratty-b1tch @iytatsworld @imaginarydreams @tobanditto @elizabeth-von-winken-universe @rin-matsuoka345-blog @keenzinemugstudent @downbadforurmom @khamanix @simp-legend @dragid0ll @ehminitia @sikrettt @insanely-creative-things @brypp @charlie-xo @amb3rrz @simpingforsero @loveamongstmortals @dorypaxx @spicymochiroll @aaicaa@steevengrant@foxymask001@insanelycrazyanddelusional @sapphire-and-ruby-shipper-blog @selenenyx0124 @gejo333 @sakunasenpaisupremacy @quemirasboboandapaya@silassinclair @cecespizza01 @namjooningera @risinglightmoon @syd-vixious

#miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara angst #miguel o’hara imagines #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel o’hara fic #miguel spiderman #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you

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sharpedgedfool · 5 months

Text

Might post some of these separate without the bells and whistles so people can see them properly haha, extra lore under the cut!

Omega's my favourite outta the bunch here, he's made outta barrels and cannons, I gave him a life ring, some old Viking shields and his 'omega' symbol is an old horseshoe. Robots in this world are more ghosts possessing metal bodies? So Eggman's been creating a small army of undead pirates to do his bidding. Omega was a barbarian type, filled with too much rage to listen to a 'Captain' so he nearly blew up the ship before falling overboard, being dredged up by Hope later.

Hope has a sort of (slightly one-sided) rivalry with Eggman here, technology's scarce here so his automated canons are quite formidable and Hope's determined to catch up to his level. She's from a noble family and quite educated, but she's inexperienced with being on water - she's got terrible sea legs.

Hope fixed Omega up, and she reverse-engineered him to create Belle. Hope and Omega are both quite headstrong, but Belle prefers to avoid violence, her ghost wasn't a fighter at all. She's a hard worker on a ship though - and almost always the voice of reason between them all.

Rouge is a Pirate without a crew normally, she's sort of fallen into this one by circumstance and while she'll probably go off on her own later she's warming up to these guys more than she thought she would. She's a self proclaimed 'Queen' wearing a stolen crown and a ton of mis-matched jewellery and textiles from all over. She doesn't have her own ship, instead she sneaks aboard other ships and swipes their valuables before hopping onto another (although some crews swear they've woken up to find their whole boat missing from the harbour). She has a hide-out in some dangerous cliffs that's too narrow for ships, but she can fly right through. Her dream is to bring all the seven hearts-of-the-seas brought together in one place, Shadow seems to be her key in doing so.

Shadow's the big doozy here so bare with me lmao. Shadow used to be a pawn of "D'thuluh" (Doom = C'thulhu and Chaos = Leviathan). He was like a scout of sorts, sent before him to pave the way for Doom to enter the world, but Shadow turned on him and sided with Chaos. He's now working as Chaos's servant instead, so he has a particular control over the water. He's an urban legend of sorts, called the 'Shadow Captain' because they see his shadow moving beneath the waves.

Him and Sonic have clashed a few times (Shadow representing both water and lighting, and Sonic representing the wind) so they create quite the storm when they finally work together.

#oriontag #pirate au

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evermourning · 5 months

Text

𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 - han jisung

pairing: han jisung x reader, lovertober entry viii

genre: fluff, comfort, non!idol au

wc: 8.9k

warnings: brother's best friend!han, language, mentions of alcohol, reader is OBLIVIOUS and jisung is WHIPPED, making out, gets very suggestive, getting caught, starts really fucking slow.

a/n: daylight. lover's final track. what a fitting way to end lovertober. thank you all so much for the immense support i received with this series...can't wait to see you for my next one!

p.s., i'm sorry about the length (i got carried away </3) and the delay (i have been so so so busy), please enjoy!

you'd known han jisung for a very, very long time.

you were ten years old. it was a sunny september afternoon, and you were sitting on the brick stairs of your childhood home, watching with annoyance as your stupid brother and his stupid friends played football in the front yard.

your brother minho, ever the athlete, was the quarterback, of course. he was yelling terms that were so foreign they sounded like another language as the scrimmage commenced. you were bored out of your mind.

that is, until one of his friends sat down beside you.

"hi. you're min's little sibling, right?" he asked. his knees were covered with scrapes and cuts, a bandage places hastily over his left one. he had fluffy black hair and two dark eyes you could get lost in if you looked for too long. he gave you an awkwardly adorable smile.

you nodded skeptically. minho's friends were usually up to no good.

"yeah. why?" you asked, and he giggled. it was cute.

"i always see you hanging around whenever i come over, so i just wanted to know. why do you sit on the step watching if you never play?" he asked, genuinely wanting to learn more about you.

"my mom wants us to get our exercise in, so she basically kicks us outta the house until it's dinnertime." you explained quietly. a little "oh" formed on the boy's lips. "what's your name, by the way?"

"jisung." he said playfully, extending a hand out to shake yours. "and you're yn, right? minho's always talking about you." as if he'd been listening in, minho appeared behind him in an instant.

"jisung, we're down a player. you can't just be chatting up yn like that." he rolled his eyes. after jisung muttered a string of insults beneath his breath, minho crouched down to your level. "if he starts nagging you again, come get me, okay? i'm your big brother. i've got to be looking out for you."

"he wasn't nagging me, though?" you said, confused. "we were just talking." minho sighed.

"okay...but i'm gonna keep an eye on him. i don't care if he's my best friend. he hurts you and he dies. violently."

being friends with lee minho meant ground rules were established. they were short and to the point, usually things about privacy and things people say and whatnot, but there was one main one, one he enforced the most.

yn is off limits. no exceptions.

to minho, the idea of any of his friends dating one of his family members was just so weird. he didn't really want any of them to hurt you and have to cut off a valuable friendship. so, he made it very clear to them that they frankly did not have a chance with you.

jisung was sure he did, though.

he knew his feelings for you were so wrong, and that minho would most likely gut him if he ever told him, so he bottled them up. for years and years. fighting urges to kiss you silly when he saw your outfit for prom, when he saw you in a swimsuit, anything. once he went away to college, however, he hoped that his feelings would simply melt away and he could move on from you.

how terribly wrong he was.

fast-forward to a decade later, he was now standing outside your front door, inhaling deeply. he knocked once or twice before minho excitedly opened the door.

"hey, jisung." he stepped aside so jisung could enter, smiling widely. "how's college going?"

your final years of high school were peaceful, yet lonely. minho and his friends had ventured off to different universities, leaving you to fend for yourself. jisung, namely going to some fine arts school where he was pursuing a career in music production.

jisung caught minho up on how life was going, expressing his dismay about being dumped as he slipped into the kitchen to grab a drink.

"i didn't think you'd be drinking this early, ji." minho teased. jisung laughed, taking a swig before offering it up to him. when minho shook his head, jisung chugged the rest of it with a chuckle. "oh, by the way, i've got something to tell you. don't be weird, but yn's coming home too. i think they'll be home...in an hour or so?"

jisung choked on his drink. so much for not being weird.

"there's no way." he muttered, resulting in minho raising an eyebrow. "i haven't seen yn in what- two years? three years? how...are they?"

minho smiled, almost slyly, checking his phone.

"you're about to see."

the front door opened, and you came in frantically, your face lighting up as you saw your older brother. you rushed over to him to give him a tight hug. when you turned your head slightly to see jisung, your face lighting up into a dazzling smile, jisung swore actual butterflies were flying around in his stomach.

you had gotten fucking hot.

somewhere along the line, you'd had some glow-up that turned you into something akin to a fallen angel. (actually, you'd always been gorgeous to jisung, he'd just noticed it more now).

"as i live and breathe, han jisung!" you beamed, hugging him tightly. jisung swore his cheeks were blooming red. you smelled like lavender and chamomile and he wanted to wake up and smell that every single day of his goddamn life. "you're so different, oh my gosh. you look amazing."

your jaw was honestly dropped at his transformation. he was lean, yet muscular, his body toned and tan. his hair was curly, a chocolatey brown color that complimented his eyes and skin tone so well. and when he looked at you, smiling, god...

"tell me all about it!" jisung said a bit too eagerly, leading you to the sofa to sit down with you. "how is university? have you made a lot of friends? what are you studying?"

his question made you remember a necessity.

"wait! thank you so much for reminding me, ji. i've gotta text my boyfriend and tell him i've gotten here safe." you smiled cheekily.

jisung saw red.

"i didn't realize...you were in a relationship." he said with gritted teeth. you nodded, a bit confused as to why the mood suddenly changed to something much tenser.

"yeah, um, it's not a super serious one, we've really only been together for like five months tops, but he's sweet." you said awkwardly. something about how jisung was staring so intently at you made you feel like you had to explain yourself.

"what's he like?" jisung asked indignantly. "uh, y'know, just in case i meet him...so i can...get along with him better."

he was not slick. how the hell did you not pick up on it?

he didn't know, because he breathed a raggedly sigh of relief as you laughed and began vividly describing your boyfriend, eliciting a grimace from jisung. god, this guy sounded fucking annoying.

"let's see...he's absolutely my type. he's adorable, kind, funny, caring, and hella talented. he's a great singer." jisung was a greater singer too. probably even better than this guy. he would crush him in karaoke. "but i wish he could play the guitar...that would make him so much more desirable to me."

jisung had a guitar in his trunk he was fighting demons not to go grab. it was the way your boyfriend sounded like a carbon copy of him that had him fuming. for fuck's sake, he was right here!

it was unfair, in jisung's eyes. once you'd admitted that your boyfriend had a very short temper and could be very controlling, he'd whipped his head around so his eyes could meet minho's. minho simply shook his head.

knock it off, he was saying.

how the fuck was this absolute douchebag able to date you but jisung wasn't? it was so fucking rigged.

your boyfriend wasn't even that handsome, either. he looked like any average twenty-something year-old guy. if anything, he had absolutely fucking nothing on jisung. jisung was the hottest guy he knew. a solid twelve out of ten. this guy was a four or less on a good day.

he reassured himself, remembering he had so many fucking weeks with you, without your boyfriend. his only problem, however, was not you or that guy you were fawning over. it was lee fucking minho.

twelve years and not a single ground rule changed. jisung was still not allowed to make any advances on you. therefore, he had to get better at being sneaky.

his first (and only) attempt to get you to break up with your boyfriend was on a wednesday. it was rainy, diminishing the possible activities you could do, so you opted to watch a movie with minho, jisung, and one of their other friends, chan.

it was some horror movie you couldn't stand one bit, jumpscares at every turn. you were flinching and hiding your face in jisung's shoulder. he wrapped a strong, comforting arm around you, to which minho gave him a look.

"hey, i got you. it's just a movie." he murmured softly into your ear. you giggled.

"ji, stop it. you're so cuddly, i have a boyfriend." you whispered, not to interrupt the movie. the words stabbed him in the throat.

"i know." he said quietly, drawing his hands back slightly. "but he's not here right now. you don't need to talk about him. you were talking just yesterday about how you were worried he didn't care for you. why are you still with him?"

"well...my friends are his friends...and we have so many memories that i'd hate to lose..." it was excuse after excuse. god. this guy had really fucked with you bad. maybe if your boyfriend ended things with you, you could learn to truly love someone, namely a super sexy and talented guy named han jisung.

"that's no reason to still be dating him. you could always try and end things on good terms and then-"

"jisung, enough." your voice was firm, implying this was the final time this conversation would be held. so much for trying. eh. he'd never been much of a negotiator in the first place, anyways. now, he just had to hope and pray and pray and pray for some amazing miracle.

four days later, it happened.

minho called jisung over to hang out. the day was rooted into his mind. they were laying on the sofa, one of the cats on minho and another in between jisung's legs, scrolling through social media. you were off in your room, on the phone with your boyfriend. the walls weren't super thin, so he couldn't really hear your conversation.

until the volume raised. louder and louder until you were full on yelling and jisung could hear every single sentence. every single word. every single vowel and consonant that left your lips. you were furious.

judging by the bits and pieces he was straining to hear as he acted disinterested, your boyfriend was pissed that being back in your hometown with all of your brother's friends meant that you were fucking them behind his back or something. you were on your last straw with his controlling attitude and you lost it.

"i'm so sick of you! we're done. don't fucking text me or call me." you snapped, hanging up and flinging your phone (jisung knew this because it made a loud crash, tumbling to the floor).

minho stood up awkwardly.

"i'm gonna, um, go check on them." jisung stumbled to his feet, scaring off the cats.

"i'll come with you, min. yn's close with me, too." minho wanted to say something, it was so obvious. but his mouth remained shut as they walked towards your room.

you were laying on your bed, crying. your eyes were red and the mountain of crumpled tissues upon your nightstand progressively grew and grew.

"honey," minho began, his voice soft. he only ever referred to you that way, gentle and caring. this, jisung knew all too well, was the very reason minho was so protective of you. minho had loved and cherished you since the day you were born, fighting off the monsters in the dark just to see you smile. it wasn't that minho wouldn't be able to forgive anyone who hurt you, he'd never be able to forgive himself.

and that in itself was his biggest fear. jisung was minho's closest friend and confidant. minho trusted jisung with his life. however, this also meant that accidentally hurting you would be seen as the greatest betrayal of his life.

you flopped over, staring at minho with red-rimmed eyes. he sighed, a sweet smile upon his seemingly cold features. you really brought out the best in him.

"i'm sorry about what happened. do you need me and ji to get you anything? something to eat or drink, a blanket, more tissues...or if you want to talk, i'll stay and listen." he sat down on the bed, and you sat up to scoot over and lean into minho, fitting with him like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.

"is it raining outside? i wanna look at the stars. me and him used to do that and i want solace." you mumbled as minho rubbed your back. he turned to jisung, thinking for a split second.

"i'm going to start making you some dinner. a good meal will get your mind off of this. the hill outside is perfect for stargazing. jisung can go with you. come back when you're feeling hungry, okay?"

you nodded. jisung's heart skipped a beat. this would be his first time alone with you all break! a win was still a win, regardless of whether or not the situation was ideal.

and now, here he was, laying in the cool grass alongside you. you were moping.

"there are clouds everywhere! it's not worth it. of course the universe fucks with me on a day like today." you whined. jisung gave you a hug, cursing himself when you flinched. was he coming off too strong?

you were right, though. a thick layer of clouds completely covered the stars, painting the sky a drab dark gray. the only thing that could be seen was the bright reflection of the moon, shaped into a mere crescent.

you clung to him, creating a damp spot on his shirt with your tears. he wrapped his arms around you, letting you cry into his shoulder.

"it fucking sucks, ji. i'll never get to go on all the dates i planned with him. i-" your voice broke. he patted your back. "i had a list. a list of all the things i was gonna do with him. now who can i do them with?"

"you can do them with me!" he interjected, a bit too frantic for his own liking. when you looked at him weird, he had to come up with some quick excuse he'd pray you'd believe blindly. "not in any romantic sort of way, but if you want to do them, i'm right here. we have all the time in the world."

you really didn't.

you gave him a tired smile before hugging him tighter.

"you really would? that's so sweet. you're such a gentleman, jisung."

that night, he died and came back to life. and so, the most important mission of his life began.

mission: make yn fall in love with me and do it all without minho finding out was officially a go.

he was snapped out of his daze when minho opened the door to the back porch, signaling that dinner was ready. like the perfect brother he was, he'd cooked up three plates of your favorite meal. your eyes lit up at the plates neatly made and you finished it almost instantly. minho and jisung watched you as you slid the fork between your lips for two very different reasons.

the way minho looked at you was almost motherly, like he wanted to hide you under his wing and keep you safe, to protect you every step of the way. his heart was absolutely shattered seeing you so beaten up over your now ex-boyfriend. he should've known, he told himself again and again as he sliced the vegetables, he should've known that guy was bad news. he wanted to wrap you in a bone-crushing hug and spill words of remorse and sorrow from his heart-shaped lips, to apologize for not being there for you.

jisung wanted to kiss you until you were a flustered mess beneath him. he wanted to run his fingers through your hair and caress your soft cheeks. he would have to shake these thoughts off for his next week, a week filled with definitely-not-dates with you.

monday

you stared at yourself in the mirror, spinning a bit to see all of the angles of your outfit. you'd just recently bought this top and you were a little unsure about it.

ending things with your boyfriend had completely thrown off your schedule for your break. and here you were now, getting ready to go to an aquarium with someone you hadn't seen in years. a knock sounded on your door. it was soft, as if the echo was a question.

"come in," you said, a tinge of unsureness upon your tongue. the door slid open to reveal jisung, wearing a cute crewneck and baggy jeans. he began smiling widely once he saw your outfit.

"you look stunning. i- i don't even have any words to describe you, you look so lovely. like the first warm day of spring." you felt your cheeks heat up at his words. for somebody so energetic and funny, he certainly was eloquent. it was as if he had some magical control over words and syllables, combining and separating them until he'd made the perfect match.

"thank you so much, ji! you look amazing too." his outfit was simple yet stylish, the color palette blending incredibly with yours. jisung never went out of his way to put this much effort into an outfit. was there any reason? (spoiler alert: there was)

his cheeks flushed pink at your words, and he outstretched one hand for you to take.

"shall we go?"

you'd never really noticed his hands before. you'd never really needed to in the first place. but they were soft, as opposed to the small callous on his index finger, probably from writing lyrics and schoolwork all the time. his hands weren't huge, but they were larger than minho's. his nails were painted expertly and delicately in hues of navy blue.

"i didn't realize you still painted your nails." you murmured, and he looked up, laughing sheepishly. "i remember being so jealous that i could never paint mine like you did. that's why i always asked you to do mine for me."

"practice makes perfect, i'm afraid. but you can ask me anytime, and i'd drop whatever i'm doing to help you. just say the word and i'll be there in the blink of an eye." his declaration seemed a bit off for just helping you with your nails, but everybody expressed emotions differently, so you shrugged it off.

his hand was still outstretched, never once faltering, as if he knew at some point, no matter the journey, you'd take it. and you did.

the aquarium was somewhere you'd always wanted to go with your boyfriend. it held such nostalgia and beauty that you'd been dreaming of the day you could go there with someone you'd enjoy it with. you were happy it was the first idea on your bucket list, something to get your mind off of the miserable day before.

you honestly still couldn't believe you were doing this with han jisung himself, anyways. he was your brother's best friend, and he was way too cool for you. he'd seen you as a little sister his entire life. this idea of his was out of the care and concern of his heart in the utmost platonic way possible.

jisung, on the other hand, was trying not to trip over his own two feet as he held your hand, seeing the awe in your eyes. he squeezed your hand with excitement, hoping his hand wasn't sweaty or anything. oh god...what if it was? he told you he needed to "readjust" his hand before profusely wiping it on his jeans until he was certain it was drier than the gobi desert.

the aquarium was absolutely beautiful, in shades of blues and greens. all sorts of aquatic creatures reside behind walls of glass, swimming around without a care in the world. it was divine. you walked around with jisung, hand in hand, pointing out various sea creatures. he seemed especially taken by the sharks, excitedly swiveling his head between you and the tank whenever they swam by.

eventually, you made your way to a room in the back of the aquarium, a large rounded glass tank in front of you. the lights had been dimmed to a midnight blue, letting the pale moon jellies show themselves. they languidly floated around, a dazzling sight. they were like clouds of the sea.

a wooden bench with a black leather cushion was positioned next to one of the tanks, and you and jisung sat down to rest your feet, weary from all the standing. he was looking through his camera roll at the photos he took.

you smiled at the little things he does. you'd been noticing them much more recently. the way his lips stretched into a crooked grin when he saw something he liked, the way he pouted if a picture came out bad or too blurry. it was endearing.

but it was also odd. the last time you'd been able to identify such minuscule details about jisung was when you were fourteen years old and had the fattest crush on him known to man.

you pined over him for a good seven months, making all sorts of excuses to hang out with minho and his group of friends. most of the time, his answer was a solid no. but sometimes, when he'd sigh and say "yes, but be good", you'd try and have all sorts of conversations with him. you loved his enthusiasm and interest as you spoke, as if he was hanging onto every word.

eventually, you came to the conclusion that he saw only ever you as minho's annoying kid sibling and was only being nice to humor you. you'd laid in bed, crying into your pillow, face warm from guilt and humiliation. from that day forward, you were always wary of men. you were scared that they wouldn't like you if you were too forward.

it was incredibly foolish, you realized. you'd based this claim off of absolutely nothing at all. you'd assumed jisung didn't like you. but there was no way he did, you were a hyper and silly kid and he was a teenager focusing on sports and whatever guys did.

"hey," he said, snapping you out of your walk down memory lane. a small smile graced his pretty face. "wanna take a picture with me and the jellyfish? we can make them into matching polaroids. i know you wanted to take polaroids with your boyfriend as a like- a couple idea, so we could be killing two birds with one stone?"

it was a great idea. you scooted closer to him, and he leaned in. jisung wrapped an arm around your waist, and you softly gasped at his gentle contact.

"say cheese!" he smiled brightly and you did along with him. you didn't think you'd be smiling like this the day after ending a months-long relationship. and yet, it felt like some enormous weight was lifted off your heart. you felt...free. and happy. really happy that you were experiencing this with han jisung, out of anyone.

you were so caught up in this inexplicable feeling of joy you didn't notice the pretty pink colour on jisung's round cheeks, or how he was staring at you the entire time.

tuesday

"have you seriously never been to a drive-in movie? not once in your life?" jisung asked in shock, from where he was leaning against your doorframe. he held your list in his hand, scanning it up and down. "they're holding one tonight. guess what they're playing?"

you thought to yourself.

"hmm...some cheesy-ass movie from the 80s?" you guessed, eliciting a chuckle from jisung's lips. you'd spent the entirety of your time "sleeping" and thinking about them. he'd been plaguing your mind all day- not that you minded, though.

"close enough. they're playing grease. that's from...1978, i think?"

you sighed, getting up to run a hairbrush through your messy hair. you couldn't go out looking like shit. that would be horrid.

"is it really?" at his nod, you giggled. "damn. i thought it was the 80s. i can't really make that assumption, though. i've never seen it in my life."

the way jisung's jaw dropped to the floor was so comical it was almost cartoonlike.

"what the actual hell. you've never seen grease?" his expression was stony, and for a second you were scared you offended him. then, you remembered it was jisung, who was rarely ever serious. "get your things and get in my car. we're going right now. you cannot go another second without seeing grease."

so here you were, in the passenger seat of jisung's sleek black convertible. he was driving well, focused on the road. at one point, his hand absentmindedly drifted over to rest upon your thigh. you felt your cheeks begin to heat up. when jisung became aware of the placement of his hand, he retracted his hand in a flash, apologizing profusely. his face was beet red. it was adorable. you grabbed his hand and put it back on your thigh, much to his astonishment.

"it's okay. i don't mind." you murmured softly. "you're not hurting anyone with your hand there. and the physical contact feels nice. the warmth of your palm on my freezing leg is enough for me. makes me feel human."

jisung absolutely melted at your soft words. now this, this funny feeling in his stomach which only surfaced around you, that he yearned for day after day while he was away at university, was exactly what he craved.

if he really did succeed in making you fall for him, how would it go? he'd done some digging, and your university was only a half an hour or so away from his. he could imagine it now, so vividly it was almost a film playing in his brain on repeat. he could text you sweet messages like "good luck!" or "how was your day?" and if he felt like it, he could come see you.

he would be the best boyfriend ever. way better than that dickhead guy.

he pulled into the drive-in theater, where an assorted group of cars where already there. various people had already settled in and were watching the beginning of the movie. few families were there, but most of them were people on dates.

"do you want to get out of the car? i have a picnic blanket my roommate from university lent to me that i'll gladly lay out on the grass, if that's what makes you comfortable." jisung suggested, pulling out a patterned grey blanket from the back seat. "i'm okay with whatever you want."

"let's sit on the grass. we're on a hilly area, so we'll still have a good vantage point. and besides, from up here, you can sing your heart out."

"we can sing our hearts out." he corrected. "don't think you're getting out of this one easy, hun. be happy i'm not forcing you to learn the entire 'greased lightning' dance."

you'd always liked funny guys.

the movie began, the plot exactly how you imagined it. however, it was actually really good, with fun choreography and surprisingly good songs. jisung knew every word, an imaginary microphone magically appearing in his hand the minute he heard the first few beats of a song.

it was so fun. he'd pass the "microphone" to you, staring at you in awe when your lips parted and you began singing the melody, soft and sheepish from embarrassment. your voice was heavenly. like the song of a siren, the way you hit every note with talent and poise and then proceeded to giggle it off saying "you weren't as good as him" was absolutely insane.

at some point, you had become so incredibly engrossed in the movie. rizzo was walking through the school, singing her heart out and it was so powerful you didn't even notice the wide expanse of goosebumps covering your body.

"oh my goodness, you're shivering." jisung noticed with urgency, and you peeled your eyes away from the screen. now that your focus was no longer on the movie, you felt the chill begin to overtake you. you snuggled into jisung, trying to capitalize on the heat leaving his body.

"you're right, i didn't even notice..." you gasped slightly, your teeth chattering. jisung pulled off his coat and gave it to you.

"here, put that on." he said, getting up to grab something else from his car. what was he hiding in there?

"won't you be cold without your coat, ji?" you asked with concern. he was wearing grey sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt that wasn't made of any warm material in the slightest. he grinned, pulling out a fluffier blanket and wrapping it around the both of you.

"not anymore." he moved in closer until you felt your body against his. it was almost therapeutic. your head fell onto his shoulder, eliciting a tiny gasp from jisung's adorable lips.

the drive home was anything but silent as you excitedly rambled about the movie, explaining your favorite parts to a quietly satisfied jisung. he loved listening to you talk about things that made you happy. the way your hands moved to match your words with fluidity, the way your voice became higher with some foreign excitement. it was just like how you were when you were little.

"what are you smiling about?" you teased, noticing his adorably rosy cheeks in the pale moonlight.

"i'm sorry...i just absolutely adore listening to you talk about things you're passionate about. it's so endearing." he admitted, immediately focusing his eyesight towards the road ahead as to not see a reaction he'd be disappointed by.

if he'd just looked with his periphery, he would've noticed the flustered mess you'd become with a single response.

that night, you laid in bed, thinking long and hard about your relationship. these endeavors with jisung were exactly what you'd wished for time after time with your ex, only for him to fall short.

wait.

now that you were spending time with him again, you'd come to a conclusion. han jisung and your ex-boyfriend were uncomfortably similar, with their clothing and hair styles, their mannerisms, and their personalities. it didn't give you uncomfortable flashbacks in the slightest. in fact, you came to a massive conclusion.

you'd never gotten over jisung.

that was why you'd dated someone so similar. and you were still just as hopelessly in love with him as you were when you were a teenager.

oh shit.

saturday

you were in too deep.

every single date with jisung, you fell more and more in love with him. with his smile, his laugh, his gorgeous eyes, his caring nature, every single thing about him.

with every touch he placed on your skin, light as a feather, you felt yourself tread further and further past the point of no return. you couldn't stand it. you were running out of opportunities to confess.

what if you never saw him again after this? the next time you'd see him would probably be his graduation, and by then he might be in a relationship with someone. not a good one, because you'd come to the conclusion that nobody loved jisung like you did. even when you felt like you didn't, some core part of you kept that.

you loved passionately, most of the time confidentially. you kept your crushes to yourself. but if you had determined that you quite literally could not live without him, now that you'd grown so accustomed to seeing him every day.

you were in your sleep clothes, an oversized hoodie that was a hand-me-down from minho and flannel pajama pants when minho knocked on your door.

"good morning." he said softly, smiling at you. he held dori in his arms. "i made us breakfast. care to join me?" you loved weekends when you were with your brother.

your parents were always busy, so you'd really been raised by minho. he worked as a dance teacher outside of his studies, working late nights at the studio just to provide for the two of you. you loved your brother, to the moon and back.

you sat at the table, eating breakfast, contentedly listening to him talk about how his students were progressing nicely. you were so busy trying to get a piece of a scrambled egg onto your fork you almost didn't hear him pop the big question.

"so, um...jisung has been coming over a lot recently. care to enlighten me as to why?" he asked, almost nervously. "he's my best friend, yet he's coming over for you, and you're hanging out with him what- every night? i'm not mad at you or anything. i just wanna know the truth."

you sighed. you were much too embarrassed to admit you had any sort of feelings for jisung. it wouldn't hurt if you didn't lie...rather...skirted around the central idea, would it?

"he's been helping me cope with my breakup. i love you and i know i can tell you literally anything, but there's just something different about telling your story to a friend. you already know it, min."

minho probably did not believe your sob story one bit. however, if he didn't, he clearly didn't show it, because his lips parted to release a soft "ohhh."

"i get it. thanks for being honest." his words sent a pang directly to your heart. you hated lying to your brother. but, you were going over to jisung's house tonight and you had to make sure there was no suspicion on minho's part.

after a strenuous hour of getting ready, you were finally prepared. you took a deep breath, knocking on jisung's door. his family home was in your neighborhood, luckily, so you could just walk.

he opened the door, his eyes warmed at the sight of you.

"you've done it this time. you're the most gorgeous person i know. there's no competition. i know you're just in casual clothes, but damn." his mouth was agape, and he looked you up and down. you laughed at his words, trying to avoid the fact that your face was burning from his simple compliments. "i'm rambling, oh my god. let's go inside."

he stepped aside so you could enter. you'd always loved his house. his parents were very fond of interior design, so it was so architecturally beautiful it made you smile. the couches, walls, paintings, and doors were all color coordinated. once jisung led you through the door to his room, your lips stretched into an even wider grin.

it was so...him. rock band posters were plastered everywhere, and it was organized and minimalistic. he had a computer and some producer supplies, and in the corner of the room sat a gorgeous acoustic guitar.

"wow, it's so beautiful!" you said in awe, running a hand down the smooth wood. "i've always wanted to learn how to play. can you play some songs for me?"

he nodded, pulling the guitar off its stand.

"let me tune it real quick, and then we're good to go. any song recommendations?" he asked as he began tuning the instrument. his fingers moved swiftly, expertly. he bit his lip in concentration. "sad songs? love songs?"

"a love song would be nice. you can choose one." you responded, coming over to sit beside him. he thought for a bit, before beginning to strum a lovely chord progression. the song was on the tip of your tongue, and once he started singing, you were in for it.

i found a love, for me...darling just dive right in, and follow my lead

it was perfect. of course it fucking was. you felt your stomach flip with delight, playing into some hopeless fantasy that he was singing it for you. that he was playing the guitar so beautifully, trying to convey a message.

i found a girl, beautiful and sweet...oh, i never knew you were the someone waiting for me

you inched closer. his eyes were focused on yours, and he sang with a smile, never missing a beat.

'cause we were just kids when we fell in love, not knowing what it was

was he singing it to you? was he telling you to your face that he loved you, or were you just delusional?

but darling just kiss me slow, your heart is all i own, and in your eyes, you're holding mine

you couldn't do it anymore. he had to know. you couldn't hide it anymore.

"jisung, stop." you said shakily, and he obliged.

"what is it?" he asked, concerned. had he done something wrong? he would admit, he was carried away with his serenade because all of his feelings were so fucking real, but if he was making you uncomfortable, he'd stop instantly.

better now than never.

"um, this is gonna sound really weird, and you have every right to say no or tell me to get out..." you were rambling, and jisung was silent with an unreadable expression. "i have, like, really strong feelings for you. and it didn't just happen. i loved you when i was little and i love you now, i just stuffed these thoughts away to the back of my mind. if you think about it, my ex was just a cheap copy of you."

jisung wasn't talking. he was just staring at you with his jaw dropped.

oh shit. you fucked everything up. over a decade of friendship. ruined.

"it's okay, i'll just go, i'm so sorry...it's obvious you don't like me back." you said, humiliated. as you went to leave, you felt jisung's hand wrap around your wrist.

"did you just say i don't like you back?" jisung murmured in disbelief, shaking his head. "oh my god. you are so fucking oblivious."

you cocked your head.

"what?"

he led you to sit on the bed next to him, his skin flush against yours.

"how have you not realized i've been head over heels in love with you since we were in grade school?" he sighed. "i never pursued you because min doesn't let any of his friends date you. but i thought of you every day while i was at university. i dreamed of you when my brain was too tired to think. i dated here and there but i was a horrible, horrible boyfriend because i never wanted them. i wanted you. but you never noticed me pining over you. does that make sense?"

you nodded, fighting the tears of joy threatening to fall from your eyes. you reached a gentle hand towards jisung's, and he enveloped your hand in his, holding it tightly.

"can i...kiss you?" he asked softly, waiting for your permission. you nodded, your heart racing as he leaned in. his thumb brushed against your cheek as his lips met yours in a gentle kiss ten years overdue.

it was sweet, laced with a quiet passion that grew as he kissed you again and again. it was so lovely, almost as if fireworks were shooting off in the distance.

when he finally pulled away, his hand rested on your hip and he was breathing a little heavier, staring at you with a twinkle in his molten chocolate eyes.

"will you grant me the immeasurable honor of being mine? no lies and no miscommunication this time. i promise." he held out his pinkie, and you giggled as you curled yours around his.

"you've got yourself a promise, ji." you replied, bursting with delight.

a realization dawned on jisung. he hadn't even brought minho into the equation.

"one problem. minho wouldn't be happy with me if he found out about this. he's told his friends and i it for years- you're off-limits. but now...i just broke his rule. we're gonna have to sneak around behind his back..."

you patted your boyfriend's shoulder. god, it felt divine being able to say that.

"it's okay. he won't catch us." you laughed softly, giving jisung a hug, solidifying your love in stone.

thursday

you'd almost been dating jisung for two weeks! this was an achievement for you, because every single day you were with him felt like you were drifting away on a fluffy cloud of ecstasy. he made you unfathomably happy.

so far, hiding your relationship from minho was going surprisingly well. to try and throw him off of your trail, the three of you started going out more when minho didn't have work. you'd also convinced jisung to prioritize minho's texts and hangouts for the time being.

it was a lot easier said than done, though. minho was observant and cautious, picking up on any unusual signs and forcing you to come up with lies on the spot. he'd look skeptical, but not push the question, thankfully. however, some gut feeling told you he'd find out any day now.

how would he find out? you asked yourself. would he see you two in public from a distance? would a friend inform him? would he find out accidentally? it was a scary thought.

one night, you were laying on your bed, reading some book your mother had recommended to you. it was an amazing book, filled with intrigue and plot twists that left you reeling and begging for more. in between your legs, resting his head on your chest, was jisung.

you'd learned from him being your boyfriend that he was a total sucker for physical touch. like a koala, he was always clinging to you by any means possible.

"baby..." he whined, flipping over to rest his chin on your tummy. "what's in that book that could possibly be more important than me?"

"someone just got murdered, ji. they're trying to figure it out." you replied ignorantly, eliciting a whine from jisung. you giggled, reaching a hand down to entangle your fingers in his dark curls. he sighed dreamily as you massaged his scalp.

"boring, boring, boring." he muttered, grabbing your book out of your hands and placing it neatly onto the nightstand. "shit. how should i save your page?"

"there's a bookmark in the book! use it! han jisung, if you doggy-ear that page, i will fuck you up." you laughed loudly.

thankfully, tonight you had zero worries about minho catching you and jisung. he was working out with chan and then he had an hour and a half teaching private lessons for one of his students. he wouldn't be home until at least 8:45pm, and since it was like 6:30 you could probably sneak jisung out by 8:20pm and get a twenty-five minute grace period to make it look like nobody had been over. life was good.

all of a sudden, jisung gave you a devilish grin, and positioned himself so he could easily climb on top of you.

"ji, what are you doing?" you asked with a chuckle, reaching up to caress his soft face.

"givin' you lots of kisses, duh." he leaned down to brush his soft lips against yours, and you wrapped your arms around his neck. the kiss grew more and more heated in a blink of an eye. it happened so fast. one second he was giving you gentle kisses, like the touch of a fairy, and the next his tongue was in your mouth dancing with yours.

he pulled away after a very long makeout session, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his raw, swollen ones. he licked them with a smile, and shifted a bit so he could lean down and press wet, open-mouthed kisses along your neck, shoulders, and collarbone. you almost groaned at the sensation, but covered your mouth with one hand. jisung giggled at this.

"you don't need to hide those pretty noises, babe. nobody can hear us. we're alone." he snickered, before resuming his work kissing and sucking on your neck until your skin was littered with baby bruises the color of cherries. thankfully, jisung wasn't an idiot, so he only left marks in places you could easily cover with concealer or hide with your shirt.

to him, you were ethereal in this position, pressed into your bed. lips raw and parted in an "o" shape, hair splayed out in a halo around you, your chest heaving.

"you look debauched in the loveliest way possible, gorgeous." he grinned, his fingers now reaching down to the buttons of your shirt. "don't you feel embarrassed at all? i'm literally going down on you on your childhood bed."

you laughed breathily.

"shut up and kiss me again."

your response was cut short. you would have said something more, something almost provocative, if your door didn't open abruptly.

"hi, honey. i'm home early. my student was sick, so i'm gonna get started on dinner-" the scene was almost comical. you and jisung both turned your heads in slow motion to see minho standing there, a grocery bag in his hand and shock upon his face. "jisung. get the fuck off of them or i'll snap your neck."

jisung shot upright, cheeks beet red as he helped you up. minho noticed the marks on your skin instantly. he looked furious. you'd never seen your brother this way, ever.

"we have been friends for what- fourteen years? and what has been the recurring thing i have told you, time and time again?" minho hissed. jisung hung his head in shame.

"you said yn is off limits." he murmured. he slowly lifted his head to meet minho's eyes, searching for the tiniest speck of sympathy, but there was none there. "look- i can explain."

"what is there to explain, jisung?" minho snapped. "'oh, i always want what i can't have, so i'm gonna defile my best friend's sibling behind his back.'"

"min, that's not what happened." you tried. no luck. "i confessed to him first. if anything, it was me. not him. don't take this out on him just because you won't take it out on me."

"don't even say anything. i don't want to hear a single word out of you. everything i do is to protect you! i've looked out for you our entire lives. i...i love you immensely and endlessly, yn. that much is true. but i can't allow this. i wouldn't want to lose jisung because of something you did or something he did to you. and i wouldn't want to lose you because you're so hurt by someone like him." minho's voice broke. he was done. he sighed, and stormed off.

you turned to stare at jisung.

"i, um, think you should go." you murmured, wrapping your arms around him and kissing his cheek. his toned arms made their way around your waist, and he hugged you tightly.

"okay. text or call me if you need anything. let's figure this out tomorrow."

you were with jisung. you loved him so much. but what was the cost of loving him?

friday

minho wouldn't speak to you.

he left for chan's before you woke up, sending you a brief text telling you where he was. you opened the fridge to see a plate stowed aside for you, a sticky note with your name on it on top. huh. even though he was mad, he still went out of his way to make breakfast for you.

you knew you were in the wrong. it wasn't okay of you to sneak around behind minho's back, but if he was too petty to talk to you, then it'd be hopeless.

after eating, you called jisung. he picked up on the first ring, like he always did whenever you called.

"minho won't text me back. he's leaving me on read. god, he's petty when he's mad." his voice sounded a bit gravelly, meaning he'd probably just woken up. you hoped your call didn't serve as an alarm for him.

"i feel bad, ji." you murmured, flopping down onto the couch. the cats sensed your discomfort and padded over to you, rubbing against your legs and purring to try and get you to relax. "i know he would've been mad either way, but do you think he would've been less of a dickhead if we'd just been up front about it?"

"i guess. i'm embarrassed i suggested we keep it a secret. but what's past is past. now, we've got to figure something out. i love you, but he's my best friend of fourteen years. and i love him, but i've been madly in love with you since i was a kid. i don't want to lose either of you."

you smiled fondly at his sweet words. sometimes, he always knew the right thing to say to put you at ease.

"when he gets home, i'm going to talk to him. i'll text you how it goes." as you were saying this, the front door opened and he stood there, looking at you with a cold expression. you wanted to cry. "speak of the devil, he just got home. i love you, bye." you hung up, feeling absolutely powerless. but you weren't defeated yet. you still had your words.

"min," you began. "now that we've blown off some steam since last night, can we talk? jisung and i care so much about you, and neither of us want to lose you."

you followed him to his room, where you sat down on the bed beside him. he was not too enthusiastic.

"well, you shouldn't have jeopardized that by fucking my best friend." minho replied solemnly. you were infuriated.

"i haven't fucked him at all, min. don't jump to conclusions. besides, we haven't even been dating for two weeks. see, the reason we were hanging out so much is because he was helping me with a this sort of- bucket list that i had, of date ideas. and i didn't get the chance to do them with my ex, so i did them with him." you explained. minho was listening, thankfully. "and then, i realized i had feelings deep down for him i'd been harboring since i was younger. and i couldn't keep them in anymore, so i told him. and he told me he'd been in love with me since i met him."

minho nodded, his eyes still untrustworthy.

"okay. how much do you love him?" he asked.

"i love him so much it hurts to see this happening. you're his best friend and he's suffering without you. he was texting me, complaining all night. and no, i know what you're going to ask. i don't love him more than you. romantic love and familial love are on two very different ends of the spectrum."

minho was silent for a moment, reaching out to take your hand.

"i'm sorry for acting this way. i'm sorry for punishing you with silence. i've watched you grow up from a little kid with big round cheeks to the successful, loving person you are today. when you broke up with your last boyfriend, it took everything in me not to go fucking kill the guy for breaking your heart. but this, this is different. jisung is my best friend. i love him so much, and i don't know what i'd do with myself if he ever hurt you. if anybody i cared about hurt you." you gave your brother a tight hug, and he wrapped you in his arms.

"i understand. but we both know jisung isn't that kind of person."

"and you," minho whispered, and you barely caught it. "will you promise not to break his heart? i'll...i'll think about getting behind this if you do."

"i promise. i swear on my life."

that night, you lay in the grass once more with jisung, staring up at the stars. his arm was wrapped tightly around you as you pointed out various constellations with a jubilant look upon your face. god, you were adorable. he rolled you over slightly so he could press a loving kiss to your lips.

the sky was clear, the clouds pushed away to reveal an angelic array of twinkling lights, set against an ebony blackdrop.

"you can see the stars tonight." you whispered gleefully. jisung laughed.

"you can, can't you? they're really beautiful. just like you said. just being here with you brings me eternal solace." he brought your hand to his lips and softly kissed each of your knuckles. "i love you, to the moon and to saturn."

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