#and let me share it. some of y'all like the stories about my parents especially when they're connected to stars so <3

[flowercrowngods]

i’m the anon who told you that you were warm 👋

you ARE warm. of course i’m still here. everyone, and that includes you!, deserves to have that recognition and appreciation :)

you provide such an amazing environment for me in this steddie life and beyond. i have a steddie sideblog and i love my little corner (nobody interacts with me but still)

SENDING HUGS TO YOU AND EVERYONE THAT READS THIS 🫂

let me tell you something about warmth

so last weekend my brother got married and my dad gave a little speech. he's good at that, talking in front of people without making it a big deal, drifting off and still making it seem like it's part of the speech.

and he said something that he told me a while ago already, something he would mention to me once or twice throughout all of my life. a sacred little something.

he said, "boy, this speech right here is one of three most important speeches i've held for you. you didn't hear the other two, but you can hear this one. the first was just when you were born, i was sitting on the balcony and talking to the stars, telling them about my little boy and all the things i wanted to to better than my parents did.

"the second one you didn't hear either because you were asleep and i was sat by your beside, telling you about your new baby sister (me, dio) and that you were a big brother now.

"and now, the third one, in front of all these people who love you and appreciate you. and i look into this room and feel a certain calm, knowing you have so many friends who have your back, and even more you couldn't invite, because if you were to invite everyone who loved you, we'd need a bigger room or three. and that's all a parent could want. there's barely more for me to say here, so let me say it in the words of men who are wiser than your old man.

"may the force be with you, and with your love. and may you live long and prosper, but most importantly, in love."

#that's the man who raised me #and no fight we have and no difference we have could ever erase the fact that he was sat there on the balcony and telling the stars about #his two little babies when we were born. nothing can erase that. i like to think sometimes that this is where i get my thing for the stars #it wasn't a big speech this one and it was said rather casually but it will live inside me for a while. so let me tell you about warmth. #and let me share it. some of y'all like the stories about my parents especially when they're connected to stars so <3 #i hope this makes someone smile. it makes me cry 🤍 #🤍

[auteurdelabre]

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

[jezabatlovesbats]

Like I said already, I graduated high school this year. So naturally, because I'm somehow both lazy and busy at the same time, I don't draw anything for the occasion like I wanted to until the literal DAY before I start college. (Yeah, I'm not joking- my first day of college is tomorrow.)

Just because I've come this far since I joined Wattpad as a 7th grader doesn't mean I know how I did it. Oh, wait- yes I do. I do know. I guess I don't know my own brain. Anyway, it's because I had, and still do, a burning desire to reach out to you and tell you about all the silly little stuff I had on my mind. I also wanted to get to know people all around the cyber world who liked the same stuff I liked. (I hope I can find someone who does in my art college.) I wanted y'all to know that Unikitty and Minecraft: Story Mode were (and still are) my two most favorite things ever. For months, I begged my parents for it, and I eventually got it for Christmas. Over the years, I've come to like more shows, games and movies. I even realized that I liked doing musical theater, too. Since I joined Wattpad, I've expanded my posting to DeviantArt, this site, YouTube, and more.  I've probably told you all of this many times before, but I say it for a reason.

As I also said already, high school was as fun of an experience as it was... interesting. I couldn't finish my freshman year, and I missed my entire sophomore year, and if you survived 2020, you probably know why. I still passed, though. I think that junior and senior year made up for that. I was in the school musical both of those years, I got to attend my first prom junior year, and I went to Thespian Fest senior year.

Maybe the real high school experience was the friends we made along the way, as I've joked. But I wanted to surround myself with people I could get together with. As SpongeBob said, "I only want to hang out with my friends." And I did, 'cause we made every day the best day ever, especially the night we graduated. (The trampoline park we went to afterwards had some killer chicken tenders!) I took one of my friends to see Elemental before she went out of state for her college. I still keep in touch with a lot of them. Still, I'm really gonna miss everyone, and I wish them luck in their future endeavors.

As soon as school let out, my family took me on a trip to celebrate the fact that I graduated, and I made a video about it. You can watch it on my channel if you'd like.

But, I digress! There are a bunch of people here who I've just gotta show my gratitude for. You guys are part of why I keep going in life.

For @joyseer24, @agent-egg, @sundove88, and @pinkiemeowstic89, some of the earliest people I remember interacting with me.

For @erin-the-epic and @clg-artisa, who never fail to put a smile on my face.

(Also, special thanks to all the Unikitty fans here and on YouTube who called me out on my BS back in 2021.)

To @nevaehjwilliamsvaeh, a fan of Mao Mao and Six. I always love seeing you in my notifications!

@pocketlad, thank you for being my lad.

For @federthenotsogreat. It's nice to have a fellow Mario & Luigi fan to chat with.

@generalfoxy21, thanks for liking my posts and tagging me in your picrews.

To my fellow lovers of WALL-E: @cosmo-naute, @ohthewhomanity, and @defineshitposting. Computer, define friendship- the love that we shared.

For folks like @hazed-miner, @tailsofairies, and @milliemakesmistakes. Thanks to all of you cube kids for liking my Minecraft: Story Mode stuff.

To @choupiee. Anybody who likes both Unikitty and MC:SM stuff is a friend in my book.

There are also more Unikitty fans I have to thank, including @glitzycatart, @passionatepinkkittynew, @lizatheeddsworldaddict, @theunikingdom, and @doomlordsbutfunni.

@keith-neil, thank you for your Unitober challenge! I had a great time participating!

@askthechronoverse, I've got you to thank for liking my posts, reblogging them, and asking questions on the Big Bright World blog. And, thanks for keeping the Unikitty and Lego Movie fandoms alive. It's come to the point where I consider you a true friend, Fabri.

And to all my other watchers who weren't mentioned here, thank you for watching me and sticking by me. I don't know how to end this, so I'm gonna say that life is weird. 

#thank you all #for a friend #important

[not-poignant]

Hi Pia,

Behind-the-scenes-fic-ask, number 21 and falling falling stars please ❤️

21. What is something you didn't expect people to notice or gravitate towards in this fic?

Ooooo, okay, actually quite a few things!

So the biggest one is that I just never expected to have Dr Gary be anything more than an extremely minor character that Efnisien mostly reflected on. I never planned to write whole sessions, and the first one was only a section of a chapter rather than a whole chapter, because I thought readers would hate it.

I actually really hate reading a lot of fictional therapy sessions, especially when that's not the focus of the fic. Most fictional therapy sessions read like 'therapist is narrating pop psychology and telling this character everything they want to hear and they're subbing in for a kind parental figure' at best.

There are exceptions to that, but for the most part, I find that boring - it feels like a kind of writing that is not quite lazy, but a bit 'there are other more interesting ways to share this.' Therapists don't feel like real people in those circumstances, with their own motives, thoughts, intentions and drives. They feel like an extended part of the character's brain, or they feel like an empty function.

But Dr Gary was like, was a hit. I was getting a lot of asks about him, a lot of interest about him in the comments, and in the first few chapters, me and my beta actually kind of shipped him and Efnisien together before he met Arden (that's how we ended up with Underline the Black lol).

So yeah, that's the biggest one!!! And that one is a pretty big one. :D

Otherwise, I was also surprised by (but maybe shouldn't have been) how many Kadek/Efnisien shippers there are and Kadek/Efnisien/Arden shippers. I was like...hmm...how can I put this - Kadek has darker brown skin, and in those cases some readers don't really go for that chemistry. He's also 20~ years older than Efnisien, though he doesn't act like it, lol. Like, I personally shipped them even though I wasn't going to write them into the main story, but I was very reserved/aware that people might not want that. Especially with how confrontational and sometimes even mean Kadek can be.

Honestly that was like, probably the nicest surprise. It wasn't that I expected people to be awful, often I try and go in with fairly open expectations, it was more like I was prepared for people to not feel/see what I was feeling/seeing about a character. And I was okay with that, because he's a side character. But we got way, way more scenes with Kadek because of how people responded to him.

This story really couldn't have been what it became without the readers! The best part about not planning a story is I can follow the kind of momentum of readers. I don't believe in caving to fanservicey stuff, but I do believe in 'oh you're open to this? I can give you more of this!' or 'oh you like him!!! Yay!! I do too! Let's experiment with a whole therapy session chapter and see how y'all feel about it.'

:D That's my favourite part of writing, honestly. I actually kind of feel bad for the people who don't read fics as they go like this, and just read it all when it's completed at the end. Because they miss this kind of alive creation of this ongoing story, and they miss being a part of it. And obviously they also miss the agony of waiting for chapters, but as someone who reads WIPs myself, idk there's something very cool about seeing something come to life - especially like, if say early on you are like 'I love this character so much' and then a bunch of other people say it, and then the author is like 'well this character can make the story stronger so good news everyone, I'm putting him in more because you all love him so much.'

That's... like... *chef's kiss*

~

From this meme!

#asks and answers #memey goodness #falling falling stars #dr gary konowalous #kadek setiawan #initially kadek was quite a lazy character for me in that #he was very loosely based on a good friend of mine #and then it was like oh let's... #let's really do this #efnisien would never have gotten that piano as a gift from kadek #if it wasn't for y'all and i appreciate that

[shadowcrafter-28]

About my own concept for an extended story for the unreleased short, "The Spider Within," It'll still be about Miles having to face his demons (manifestations of his anxiety) in the form of a dark figure and spiders, but they will take a sinister turn with how I'm about to tell y'all.

There are multiple ways the story can go. I'll let everyone decide which fits best. I might need someone to help me write this, if I do it, so I don't mischaracterize anyone.

Btw, this'll be inspired by some horror films such as "Insidious," "A Nightmare on Elm Street," "The Boogeyman," "Smile," and "The Conjuring." Most involve paranormal activity, nightmarish visions or dreams, demonic entities, astral projection, and of course, possession.

As for the astral projection part, I thought of Miles walking around, outside of his body, looking for his relatives in the spiritual world. We'd know if Miles did this, he'd look for Uncle Aaron. So, I'll make separate concepts where Miles can astral project and one where he doesn't but still encounters the shadow figure.

So! Miles Morales struggles with certain things in his life that impact his mental health. These things include school, being Spider-Man, being a friend, and being a son. Of course, if all of this bothers him, he'd talk to his parents about it, especially his dad. However, he doesn't discuss it with them, yet, especially since one of those struggles involves being New York's hero. The only person he shares about being Spider Man with is his friends and Uncle Aaron. (All of this happens before summer break; two weeks before school ends.)

Miles's friends, Gwen, Hobie, Pavitr, Margo, and Ganke, all encourage him to talk with them but still exclude the hero part. However, Miles believes his parents would think he's still hiding something. And even if, in Miles' head, he told his parents he were Spider Man, they wouldn't love him the same. He keeps all this in until he finds the right time and words.

His friends have struggles of their own and tell one another about them, including Miles. Their relationships between each other, like Gwen and Margo, are the typical teenage girls that tell each other girl stuff and sometimes gossip about their lovers (and yes, Margo is super supportive of Gwen and Miles' relationship). Miles and Gwen went on dates too. The gang visited Miles from time to time, especially Gwen. Her spider sense always goes off when Miles felt a deep emotion or needs help. The gang would take turns or help out as a group in their universes if something big came up.

Miles dreams about his uncle and speaks to him about his problems. He can do anything in his dream, which means he teleports himself to wherever his uncle is, which is usually his old apartment. However, the visit takes a dark turn when he discovers the shadow monster messing up his dream.

The shadow is an evil being that originated from the spirit world and reaches into his victims through the darkness of their dreams. As they progress, the more physical the entity can become in the real world. This strategy feeds off the victim's struggles and trauma that has affected them, making it worse, to the point where the victim is unable to fight and is vulnerable to possession.

(Headcanon: Anytime Miles encounters something or someone new, he'd draw them into his sketchbook so he wouldn't forget. His encounter with the shadow gave him the opportunity to include it in.)

At one point, Miles' parents take him to the doctors for a CT scan and a polysomnography. Everything seems fine, except Miles being attacked in his nightmare. His parents, including the doctors, witness him fighting something they cannot see. His parents agree to let him spend the rest of his last week at home.

Through another and last week of school, Miles faces this entity every night. This causes his sleep schedule to fall apart as he remains awake to prevent haunting. However, since the nightmares have persisted on long enough, the shadow has become more tangible, causing hallucinations, physical appearances, random whispering, and physical injuries. For example, Miles would hear a knock on a door, open it, but find no one present. Or he would see something coming into his room and try to hide under the sheets or something to avoid it. However, the shadow would still attack him but nothing would be there afterwards.

(Headcanon: Miles used to sleep walk at a young age; sometimes, he'd be invisible as he walked around.)

After a bit, the final week of school ends and Miles' condition hasn't improved. His friends take notice but Miles brushes it off (the shadows whispering would change his mind sometimes to get his friends off his back.) One night the spirit finally possesses Miles' body, which makes him fall ill (cough; nausea; vomiting; headaches; chills; stuffed nose.)

(Wanna hear the scary part? The way this happens is Miles tries to sleep but undergoes sleep paralysis, with the entity confronting him and tormenting him. Miles fights back but the entity is strong enough to make him not fight back as he strangles Miles and possesses him. Gwen's senses go off, leading her to travel to 1610 and check on him. She catches him in the air with his eyes rolled to the back of his head (white). She'd attempt to enter the room once he drops down on the ground aggressively before his dad hurries into the bedroom to see his son on the floor, unconscious. Gwen would observe from the window, waiting for both his parents to leave (Mrs. Morales would inevitably enter the room to investigate).

Miles becomes ill the next day, and his friends visit. Gwen didn't tell everyone what she saw but she told herself that she must've been seeing things. However, she still senses something wrong with him but can't figure it out. Miles' behavior changes as the days pass and his friends worry.

He has told his friends and helped him conduct some research but haven't found anything. They don't believe him until the last minute when they discover he's possessed. They find more details about something like this having happened to another family years earlier.

The shadow would find a member of a functioning family and begin to feed off their most impactful pieces of trauma and the stress they've endured. After they get to their weakest point, they become possessed and are driven to murder their family with everyone believing it never involved possession. The entities' attempts at possessing the living have failed numerous times due to their victims dying. That means the same will happen to Miles and his parents.

Miles' appearance is pretty disturbing as he has bright yellow irises, black eyes, black goo leaking from his mouth, pale skin, darkened eye bags, a distorted voice, and dark veins that cover his neck, arms, legs, and face.

Before Miles kills his father first, he is stopped by his friends who try to stop him the Spider Man way, which involves a small goose chase running on the walls and combat between each other, with Miles getting the upper hand and defeating them. Of course, the Spider Gang aren't yet defeated and embrace Miles to get him to fight the entity. As they continue this method, it gets through to him. The strength of love and comfort banish the entity.

(I'm thinking of the shadow leaving Miles' body like a dark cloud exiting out of his mouth. Hobie lit it on fire so it stayed away. (He found out evil entities aren't immune to light so he decided lighting it on fire would help. Of course, this nearly burned the building down, but it turned out that not much was affected except Miles' parents, leaving them with concern; they're more worried about their son's safety.) After all this, Miles is alright, but left weak for a bit before getting back on his feet.

Still pondering whether Miles would tell his parents he's spider man and they accept him or he discusses his issues but not reveal him to be spider man (but his parents still support him with anything.)

I'm also still wondering how the story would differ if Miles could astral project and the spirit discovering him in the spiritual world. Then his friends have to reach out to Miles, possessed by the spirit, and free his soul from its confinement in the spirit world.

At the moment, I'm sticking with this concept. I’ll probably make changes once the short is released (very soon hopefully). Anyways, hope ya'll enjoyed and leave any suggestions and opinions!

#spidergwen #spiderverse #spider man: across the spider verse #spiderman into the spiderverse #spiderman #miles morales #horror story #horror #horrorcommunity #the spider within #astv hobie #spiderman atsv #atsv spoilers #atsv miles #atsv pavitr #atsv margo #spider byte #pavitr prabhakar #hobie brown #gwen stacy #I am going to fucking lose my shit over this short I am not kidding WHERE IS IT

[elliemuze]

So I don't normally post personal stuff or opinions. At most, I'll tack on a small anecdote on an existing post, and usually just in the tags. Rarely, if ever, do I create my own. But I feel a visceral need to reinforce something important.

I grew up on early Disney movies. That's my childhood. My first VHS was Bambi, when I was too young to even comprehend what a movie was. I was also an only child, quiet, autistic, and riddled with OCD. I disappeared into movies and books, felt like I was a part of them, and to this day can experience a meltdown at the slightest indication of change.

The Little Mermaid was my favorite. I'd pretend to be a mermaid almost daily, wrapping my legs in blankets or t-shirts, singing my tiny lungs out. In the course of growing up, I'd own a walkman and eventually a CD player. Each had the OST on standby, as cassette tape and CD. I never talked on the long bus rides, just put on my headphones and let the music take me. When I discovered Limewire, the OST was one of the first things I downloaded. My first real bed after the crib era was adorned with an Ariel comforter set, and I had Flounder and Sebastian stuffed animals that never left it until probably high school. In grade school, my mom spent months making me an Ariel costume for Halloween, of which I still have the tail skirt (obviously no longer fits). I don't much care for public performances, especially when they're loud and bright, but when my family took me to Little Mermaid on Ice, I could have stayed in that auditorium forever.

We had one luxurious* family trip to Disney World when I was in 4th grade. We were in Florida for a week, and other than getting placed in a baby stroller by Captain Hook to be comically wheeled around, my highlight of the entire trip was meeting Ariel. I spent most of our time there wondering where she was and when I'd get to meet her, and then if we could go back and talk to her again - I suspect ad nauseum lol.

*Luxurious to us. My parents saved up for years, I presume, and got lucky with some once in a lifetime deals and group discounts. (This was also 20+ years ago.) We were never rich or well-off, so this was a dream come true.

With all that being said... anyone up in arms over Ariel being Black should be ashamed of themselves. Anyone complaining that Disney is just trying to be "woke" should be ashamed of themselves. As if Black people are some ancillary customization that aggrieves the societal "default." What the actual fuck is wrong with you? Sincerely? (That's a rhetorical question, by the way, I have zero interest in any excuse you might conjure from your ass. Any bullshittery will be blocked.)

I truly believe you all need to take a serious look at yourselves, the words you're saying, and do some crisis-level introspection. Because this is embarrassing. It's senseless. As someone struggling daily with adulthood and wishing she could disappear back to the ignorant bliss of childhood, y'all desperately need to grow the hell up and act like real people.

How on earth can you look at all these little Black girls being over the moon to see someone like them, and still hold such vitriol in your hearts? How can you take something so joyful and innocent, and bend over backwards to make it ugly? Most of you I've seen behaving like this are grown ass men, too - as if you'd otherwise even care about a movie whose prime demographic was young girls.

Fucksake, aren't y'all tired? It's so easy, and free, to not act this way. Like you're all competing for the title of Most Contemptible Shitstain, but no one told you it's a defunct category.

-

I know she'll never see this, but Halle Bailey, you make a spectacular Ariel. Thank you for rekindling my childhood with such grace, and all in under two minutes. That trailer left me breathtaken and feeling like I was yeeted magically back through time.

I'm so excited to share this story and experience with all of you. I know it's an obvious sentiment and shouldn't even need to be said, but in case you ever need to hear it: you deserve nice things, you deserve magic, and you deserve the world.

❤💜💚

#the little mermaid #halle bailey #personal

[lifehappeningsnioe]

life happenings of Joshie

Hello, y'all! Welcome to the domain where I share the couple of years of my life in this cruel yet beautiful world. In this blog, we'll explore and unfold the stories of my life experience - the joy and sadness and of course the sudden twist of fate that happened in my life. Get comfy in your seats as I tell a story that will make you realize how I survived this kind of life. Welcome to the Life happenings of Joshie.

I was part of HCM MVT 2018 and got injured. I fractured my right arm and got hospitalized. I constantly cried during that day because I wasted my playing year and knew I could do better. The Doctors advised me that I should rest and let my arm recover, but as the hard-headed person that I am, I still played volleyball using my left arm. After 3 months of recovery, I continued to play volleyball up to this day. Until the pandemic came that didn't stop me from playing volleyball, we constantly played volleyball, and got me nearly caught by the Baranggay officials, I luckily got escaped but some of my friends got caught.

I graduated from high school and enrolled in Davao Doctors College for my Senior High. At first, I was scared and nervous. I thought no one would like me because I had a weird and energetic personality, but my thoughts were wrong. I have many friends who helped each other with assignments, exams, and group activities even if we got separated, we still helped each other. Until we graduate and continue our lives. I am very grateful to those people because they've helped me throughout my grade 11 life. On my first day as a grade 12 student, I went early to school because I didn't want to be late on my first day, as I got in, the elevator was unavailable, and I had no choice but to use the staircase. Later on, class started and we introduced ourselves. As the days went by, we started to get comfortable with each other and became friends. We help each other to pass our assignments, quizzes, research, and group projects. I am really thankful to those people because we cherished our memories and they made sure that no one would be left behind and graduate all together on time.

College came, and I knew this time I would be serious about my academics and prioritize the important things in my life. I promised myself that I would change and make my parents proud. I knew that College was hard, but I never thought it would be this hard. Assignment after assignment, sudden announcement of quizzes, and even they'll give us a quiz on holiday! I quickly realized that College is not for the weak, especially in this course because if you rest, you feel that something's wrong, if you have complete sleep, there's something wrong, if you finish your task early, there's something wrong, and that Return demonstration that got my nerves tremble. College is a battle of skills and testing your Determination and passion. I met new friends, and I lost some of my friends, but I'm thankful to the ones who stayed and chose to continue their college journey with me. There's this one girl who I never expected to be my best friend. Her personality is quite hidden. She is quiet and shy, and she has this soft, mellow, and calming voice. She is my Foo, we had our first interaction in the laboratory on Biochem, she asked me something, and from there, our friendship blossomed. We constantly looked out for each other, sharing our thoughts, heartbreaks, and fun times, and we helped each other in our academics. I hope that our friendship will grow and we will be successful in the near future. She is one of the reasons why my College life is bearable and fun.

In a nutshell, my life is like a rollercoaster ride. Many opportunities open right on my doorstep but chose to close and decline because of some reasons. I'm always grateful to God because he has provided me a lot of things and I'm thankful to my friends because they are the ones who helped me with my dilemmas, sharing our memories from laughter to sadness. I am excited about what my life will give me, I am more than just ready and what my college life will bring me in the near future.

[madchild-dennis]

I think people have TWO big problems. They don't think before they do or not do something. They don't think beyond the NOW, if they do think.

What am I talking about?

I'm going to start with a story:

So I reset my phone for MANY reasons (including hopes to remove a hack that was done on it) and I felt for a different background picture. Then chose this:

I scrolled in my pictures or it was a Google photos recommendation. But I liked it.

So when I wanted a break from the videos & Reels on my Instagram. I thought why not that picture. But when I post it, I wanted to share a story. I knew it was taken in the hospital. But I wanted to see when. That's when I noticed it was one of my last set of photos I took there, on Dec. 24, 2021. And the next set of pictures after was on the day I left the hospital, Jan. 8, 2021.

Hence making this post:

With this caption:

Fun fact: This was taken on Dec 24, 2021: Christmas Eve.

I also did NOT know which day it was and it was the last time I had my devices (laptop, phone, and more.) This was because the Doctors took them and gave them to my parents who went for a week-long hotel stay. As I was left in the Hospital where they manipulated the Doctors, twisted and lied to paint me as mentally ill.

.

I don't remember Christmas Day. I remember other patients family coming and spending time with them. I also was heavily medicated because of my parents lies, despite having proof when in a much dire, crazier and weird situation related to the same journey. They said that I'm NOT mentally ill. That's Canadians Psychiatric Trained Physicians while under intense observation.

.

PS: My hair was way longer. Damn.

Looking at the pictures on that day, I saw a 9pm picture. So they may have taken my stuff the next morning or something. I HONESTLY DON'T REMEMBER.

But I think that's irrelevant. I posted that post as a reference and hope that this year's Christmas would be different AND BETTER. As a reference to hope or appeal for better from, I guess the attackers, liars and/or the assholes. But if not them, it will be my mission. NO ONE will fuck it up for me this year!!! #peroidt.

That's when someone comment triggered the thought of not just my parents but ALL. Especially the liars, asshole and those who KNOW I'm right and refuse to obey God. I mean when they make their decision each day, moment or more do they think before the do it. Or even think beyond now. I mean do you THINK ABOUT THE FUTURE and what History WILL say about you?

I KNEW from the start I would be viewed as crazy. I even wondered if I was mentally sound MANY time (especially, before the hospital stay in Canada) but I KNEW it was GOD. So ultimately it will not end with me deemed crazy.

So what about those who don't have that certainty. Or WORST, those who KNOWS I'm not lying.

This post is literally focused on my parents, Pastor Micheal Todd, Raheem motherfucking Fowler, The MJW/MW organizers (less on them for some reason), King Charles, Elon Musk and more. I mean do they even think: "what if she's right..." Then continue. I know these aren't people who like to be viewed as villains. I mean they HATE it. They want status, honour, praises, and viewed as good things by the masses.

But SERIOUSLY DO Y'ALL THINK????

Ok let me start with myself:

I know when I call Mr. Fucking Fowler a no balls, bitch-ass motherfucking asshole; a whole chicken ass mama's boy. I know it makes me look MEAN. I know it makes me look disgusting. I thought about it and chose to say those things so it will not just hurt him but he'll continue his fuckery. Well it wouldn't actually make a difference. Because he IS those things. I just could have been nicer. By saying he's weak, no guts, not brave, etc. Which is the other part of why I did it, I do not care, like nor love him anymore. So I have no desire to approach him with love or care nor patience. I WANT TO BE DONE WITH HIM, and moving ACCORDINGLY.

Now if God NEVER makes a replacement for him (Raheem) and for some freak-accident-type-of-thing/miracle happens and we're together. Either he prove himself none of the above or not. But it's just the MEAN truth. And I look like someone who can be VERY mean but AFTER a year plus of FUCKERY!!!

Now what about everyone else? Did they think about their actions and what history, their legacy and more will say about them. What would LITERALLY affect their children, how they live, who they become or how they're viewed. So I'll start in reverse:

Elon Musk:

Well, I think with him. It's a matter of NOT KNOWING GOD. I mean he heard about some God/gods. May have a dislike for religion especially from observation, experience or lack thereof. So he just see it all as a FairyTale. But Tech, science, logic and money is him religion or what makes sense to him. So I & God is just a joke to him. Well, I think this will not just be a punishment, but if he wants it will be a cleansing for him. But God is definitely introducing himself to Elon Musk. That NO MATTER who he thinks he is, God is GOD. One that's NOT to be messed with or trifled. God is GOD. Then he will eventually, see and surrender to the GREATEST; God. Then humble himself and do as God asks. So history will show that, which he's lucky his lack of knowledge results in that. But if he chooses NOT to humble and surrender, God doesn't care and will do what he gotta.

King Charles:

What's sad, is the need to kill me is what keeps validating me and making the inevitable as such. Making sure I am what God says. I mean, if he humbled and acknowledge that damn if it's God, try get someone of that validation to justify their Monarch. One that existed for over a millennium. They literally CLAIM to be chosen and anointed by God but NEVER anything that's God-like proof seen all over the Bible. Like burning-bush, split seas, great God guided battles. Like that of Moses. Or Special God-chosen prophets anointing Kings like Saul, David, etc. Just self-appointed "special men" that claim to be special and say God chose that family. Actually they are just those people are like Pastors. Not prophets. Theres a difference. While if they had thought of another way to stay RELEVANT. As they've been trying to do for decades. They could have tried to gain it from me.

Sadly, he will lose it. His son, Harry, is already on the right track. William, I'm not too sure about. But it's either Charles will surrender what God asks. Or (based on the June-wedding list) William will be the one who will do so. Which would keep him relevant. NOT the existence of the Monarch remaining, BUT their lives not just preserved but still relevant and useful as celebrated symbols & physical representation for Britain; Special Celebrities. But NEVER as King or monarchs. (I'd request all children and grandchildren of this King, Charges, keep/granted the Prince & Princess titles. But that's where it ends with Regal titles of that familial ENDS as their monarchial time ENDS. Just Duke, Duchess etc. Thereafter)

MJW/MW:

I NEVER had too much bad to say about them. Nor do God, insist there's anything amiss. Other than there's a LOT of excuses and FEAR of backlash. So like Monday, I was inspired to put on my pink Infinity Dress. That may have been a fear or excuse. That I wouldn't be able to keep the integrity of the organisation's image. That's just the visual aesthetic. Basically, would I even have a dress. I believe my TikToks answered that question. Which may have left them slightly saddened at letting something they thought as problem, hinder them from doing as they wanted. I honestly DON'T know but God is letting me believe ALL that. As in they are trying, the humanly best they can. So their history and future WILL be good and as such. As they continue to try and find a way to obey.

R🙄😒ler (the fucker):

Well what's sad is, once he chose to lie about the past and his feeling. He didn't try to stop or apologize. Then to be gaslighted about it:

It wasn't just him, but his mother. Acting like they didn't do shit. Asking what's my worth. Claiming to want to charge me for sexual harassment. The clip above explains how this wasn't just lying but gaslighting at its highest. I mean at no point did they come around and say, "I lied because the girl's father threatened me. I'm sorry." Or "I lied because, I couldn't face myself and what I've done or keep doing especially if it makes me look like who I NEVER and try hard not to be. So admitting it means I failed myself. I'm sorry." Or some shit like that. Which now means admitting to lying, then bringing me to understand why but NOT dismiss what pain it caused. BUT NOOOOOOOOO.

What they've done for MONTHS was to double down on their fuckery. Well HIM especially. At least the mother tried within her limited capacity. But he NEVER TRIED. Not even via text. Not even a missed call.

History will say that my mean words are TRUE. Worst if I have to be with him. In fact, people may start a rally or some shit (as they already are doing) to convince me to leave him. OR even just completely hate, ignore or detest him. Especially if he is King. They might literally boo him in his FACE. For a VERY LONG TIME. Then with time they just have a constant hate with no reason because they forgot the original reason until reminded. Because he was a abusive, uncaring and disgusting asshole to their awesome amazing QUEEN who done so much good. Especially the things she been through for her country, people, him and all. They'd say he's an ungrateful, undeserving asshole (I mean just continuing the words I said). No matter how nice he seem. Because why then, when so much money and power is accessible, is he being nice. Which means he doesn't and didn't love her. Just an opportunist who wants money and power which would make the marriage VERY contradictory (I doubt God will allow all that. Hence why I am hopeful God will soon regrets his decision and provide a replacement. God doesn't contradict himself). And all the displayed affection or whatever seen would be deemed a performance to save face.

I mean did he even REALLY sit and think about his actions. Or ALL HE HAS DONE!!! DAMN. Then think about if he loses me. Which he CANNOT fathom. So then had he even THOUGHT about what that means when that happens, after ALL he has done, allowed, ignored or neglected. NOPE. NOT AT ALL. Not many people do that; THINK!

Pastor Michael Todd:

I think he has be SOOO focused on what he think I should or should not be doing that God has being using that as my Queen training. So I don't take bullshit from NO ONE. Sadly, while he's SO focus on what I should or shouldn't be doing, he forgot to look in the mirror and self evaluate. Or when he does, get to focus on my actions the self-eval becomes useless.

The thing is. He may think what he see is someone who lacks discipline, misguided or reading God wrong. And seem to be getting WORST with each week from the inception of the journey. So he does NOT want to do what Gods asks in his self-righteousness that he'd be giving audience to someone who needs TOO MUCH work. Especially someone calling God's name. Or what it would signify. Too much validation. Which would mean agreeing to the uncouth behaviour. Sadly, while he judges. God is building the Queen he NEEDS. However, that also MEANS it's going to ultimately hurt him.

If he refuses to do as God ask. Then there will be a replacement. When the replacement GLADLY does what God as unjudgingly. The truth of who was originally chosen for the task will remain KNOWN. All that notoriety and elevation he loves, craves and feels proud of as humbly he tries to be will rapidly be removed. It is what he loves and craves to the core. People will now question him as he preaches about principles, discipline, obedient and faith...CRAZY FAITH. To then see that someone with such GREAT principles, so disciplined, almost too obedient (cause the guy-part is MESSY) and obviously on one of the CRAZIEST faith journey. Then he chooses NOT to honour nor do his part in it. They'd say, "he must not be the pastor we thought he was. Worst he obviously choosing to go against his own preaching in EVERY WAY. Where's the principle, discipline, the faith or the OBEDIENCE. Ok NOT my pastor."

It's interesting because God asked me to put their church in one of my future plans to honour their obedience, future obedience and their vow to let the Holy Spirit LEAD. But I wonder, if God will make a replacement on that too because if the Lead Pastor cannot do all that, then he would not be leading by example. Nor would that be doing as they said they would work hard in doing.

My Parents:

Let's start with, God already said that, "they'll redeem themselves through my children." Which means that they were going to keep going until it's TOO late. That they'd have absolutely NO relation with me. That is because I'd have no interest in having one. Not out of hate but out of distrust, boundaries and all the fuckery. God already knew.

Plus I'm sure they thought about the future. I'm pretty sure they look at scriptures like Matt. 10:37 that basically says do not love your parents or child more than God as justification. So much so, that IF they believe, they have to kill me or I die from whatever, to "help God" or "protect the ministry". I'm pretty sure they'd do it. As much as I saw that passage as justification to DISTANCE myself. Because they've asked me to disobey God's direct instructions. Which mean I have to choose who I prioritize. Which is obviously GOD. I am CERTAIN their view which is like the extreme/majority of adventists who's mission is to focus on heaven and remove anything fighting the ministry. Worst false preaching; ANYTHING NOT ADVENTIST. Needs to know the truth or quieted/discredited, if necessary or too loud. Hence calling me the Antichrist &/or Bipolar/mentally ill.

I'm pretty sure they believe the bible is complete and have EVERYTHING necessary to know. So anything new from anyone or even from the Holy Spirit is discredited. Plus they have their E.G. White; their modern day prophet. No need for more or any other information.

They do it ALL for the reward they'd get in the Heaven & New Earth. Maybe a new star on their crown. A special commendation from God or just knowing they did their part in the MiNiStRy of Preaching and sharing the TRUTH. So I'd say they're the ONLY ones thinking. But VERY misguided. Not thinking from love, care or such...

Meh, God allowed it, so that I receive what God said and had planned: ULTIMATE AUTHORITY. So NOT EVEN my parents have my ear or authority over me. It's ONLY GOD who has my ear!!!

At the end of the day, is NOT the NOW that matters. It's the looking back on the now that matters We can see a small sample. Just a year ago. What happened or how did you participate or how do you feel about it. So if God looks back, do you like what He'd see or say about your past. The past that you ONLY thought of yourself or what you wanted or preferred or wanted to gain. Focusing on that very MOMENT. All that will ultimately determine what he'll say.

Whether it's "come my child" or "depart from me..."

Hence why you should think forward. Not just about others opinions, but THE ULTIMATE opinion; God's. You can't live in the NOW to gain favour in God's eyes. Not even thinking about tomorrow is enough. Think about your actions (or lack thereof) through the eyes of God; think forward then look back at it.

#Instagram

[jotatetsuken]

Yellow (Jotaro Kujo x Reader)

Summary: You find out that someone who's the closest to you in your family passed away and look to Jotaro, someone who's not really good at coping, to help you cope.

Content Warnings: Reader is a Stand User, Fluff with angst, the reader has a death in the family, mentions of sicknesses and autoimmune diseases. Mentions of broken homes, PTSD, as a headcanon. Oh, and also, some people are alive in this AU. Please let me know if I’ve missed any more warnings…if it’s too dark for you, please skip #shyna angst

Writing prompt: “When you smile, it's infectious.” from @creativepromptsforwriting ^_^ @creativepromptfills

Number of words: 2250

Note: This is a story that I'm writing to help me cope with the fact that my elder sister passed away on Saturday after a battle with an autoimmune disease. Like all of you, she was an artist as well and will probably share her artwork sometime soon, but y'all can check out her work here. I miss her, but I know that she's free from pain, and this is one of the ways that I feel would help me cope. So, dearest elder sister, I miss you, and we shall meet again, someday. I thus urge you to read this even if this is not your fandom, as this is a tribute in a way to my sister. For this story, I specifically chose Jotaro for this is 'cause I'd been watching JJBA clips on repeat, his clips especially and they've been able to calm me down. The storyline is of my creation, but the characters of Jojo's Bizarre Adventure belong to Hirohiko Araki. Reblogs, likes, and comments are highly appreciated, but no copying or reposting.

Tagging: @saltyvanilla @akaashi-todorki @pencilpoked-heart @tiddieluvr @quirrrky @kagejima @ofallthingswhythis @discordkittenjoestar @i4sgwr

(finding a JoJo mutual is very very rare)

┍━━━━━━━━━✿━━━━━━━━┑

Your skin, oh yeah, your skin and bones Turn into something beautiful You know, you know I love you so You know I love you so

┕━━━━━━━━━✿━━━━━━━━┙

With your eyes closed, your ears on alert for news, and your quivering lips chanting numerous verses to call for peace within, you'd joined your hands in a prayer posture and kept breathing deep breaths to calm yourself down as you felt your body trembling, with fear and nervousness. Your sister had been one of your closest friends growing up. Regardless of the age difference, she’d been one of the biggest supporters of your dreams when everyone was apprehensive of you achieving them. Years ago, however, you learned that she was to undergo an ongoing battle with an autoimmune sickness that kept attacking her body from within for no reason.

Over the year, you'd see her once healthy body begin to deteriorate as she would writhe in a lot of pain. She would refuse to eat anything, and you would see her lose hope in finding the cure for it all, feeling unnecessarily guilty that she was hurting others just by simply existing and in deep pain. Nevertheless, you had seen her persevere and do great things. As an artist, she channeled all her feelings into art, making some of the best and most poignant artworks ever known. As a businesswoman, she started her own company while being bedridden. As a sister, you strived to never leave her side as she was going through this, despite her screaming at you. As a daughter, she felt guilty about letting her parents down with her sickness. But, you were aware of her fighting spirit and hoped that one day, she'd open her eyes, and come home.

You and your sister had various wonderful memories together, which were all coming to a standstill when she became disoriented and unresponsive on two occasions, causing you and your family to be extremely worried for her. When she was taken to the hospital, you were not able to shut your eyes to sleep as you were riddled with concern. The last thing you heard was that the infection spread internally and she was on the ventilator and the dialysis machine. Eventually, her heart had stopped beating. You were told that the doctors gave her CPR for 45 minutes.

In the meantime when you were on your knees, praying for a second chance at life for her, your phone rang. It read: Noriaki Kakyoin. Both of you, along with Jotaro Kujo were friends from high school. You also had traveled to Egypt along with the two of them to help find the cure for Jotaro's mum's sickness. Like Jotaro, you'd developed your Stand, Dangerous Woman, quite recently, creating a sense of relatability with Jotaro. While Kakyoin survived by the skin of his teeth, recovering from major injuries, Jotaro was in a bad shape mentally, causing him to have nightmares, panic attacks, and severe migraines as a result.

Throughout the trip, you were able to bond with Kakyoin, him being kind and gentlemanly, however, with Jotaro, you'd always been at loggerheads, arguing over the minute details. However, when DIO gravely injured you, putting you at risk, that's when he realized that you were important to him and he didn't want to lose you. So, he tried his hardest to protect you and Kakyoin from DIO, even being willing to sacrifice himself. After coming back from the trip, he, Kakyoin, and Holly met up with your family. The two boys were amazed at your sister's welcoming nature and they then decided to help you take care of her with all their might when they learned of her diagnosis.

This is when you realized that you'd slowly started developing feelings for Jotaro, but life was going to take both of you on different paths. Jotaro moved to America to study marine biology, Kakyoin decided to major in game theory, where you were living, and you were in the same university majoring in sound engineering. While you stayed in touch with Jotaro, you were scared of losing him per se, oblivious to Kakyoin's observations. To earn extra income, Kakyoin decided to work part-time in a hospital. The hospital where your sister was at. He saw the latest events unfurling right in front of him, especially when he noticed a flatline on the heart monitor. He then decided to call Jotaro and put you on a conference call with them. The news that Kakyoin had to share, was very gut-wrenching.

“Hello, (Y/N)?” He inquired. With your body trembling, you were amazed as to how you could pick up the phone. You then replied, "Yes, Kakyoin. tell me?" He began to stammer in fear, saying, "Your sister, she, she passed away just now. They kept on doing the CPR for..." You weren't able to hear the rest of the conversation as he kept telling all the details while Jotaro shouted at Kakyoin. The argument was of no use as the phone fell from your hands, and your body started to shiver and tremble again as tears streamed down your cheeks continuously. Jotaro, however, said nothing, except, “Okay, listen (Y/N). I’m booking my tickets and coming to see you both right away. No questions asked.” You sniffed and nodded in response.

Two days later, at the wake, Kakyoin was with your family, helping in the preparations, when Jotaro showed up at the doorstep. You were so surprised, that your body fell to the ground on your knees. The next thing that Jotaro did, however, was very uncharacteristic of his nature. Still not uttering a word, he kept his backpack near the entrance, took out his shoes, walked to you, knelt down (like in the picture), took out his cap, cupped your cheek with his hand, brought it forward, and kissed your forehead. This silent act of affection proved to you that he wasn't going to leave you hanging dry. Realizing this, you hug him tightly, crying on his shirt, to which he replied, "yare yare daze," (means good grief) and he hugs you in return.

There was no dry eye at the funeral. You were asked to give the eulogy and you suddenly felt someone squeeze your hand. To your surprise, you noticed that it was Jotaro who did so. This alone enabled you to breathe again. Kakyoin, observing this, was determined to approach Jotaro to tell him to confess to you. “Jotaro,” he called out to him, patting Jotaro’s shoulder as he was leaving for the burial ground. “What’s up, Kakyoin?” he turned around, asking with a straight face. “Jotaro, I have noticed that ever since you came back, she’s been very attached to you.” Kakyoin and Jotaro decided to walk behind you while approaching the burial ground. The red-haired boy continued, “When all of us were in Egypt, I noticed that you were protective of her, yet…”

“What are you trying to say, Kakyoin?” Jotaro scowled at him, to which Kakyoin flinched backward, brought his palms forward, and said, “Listen, calm down. I’m just saying, it’s evident that you two have feelings for each other. What’s stopping you from telling her?”Taking in a deep breath, Jotaro approaches Kakyoin and says, “it’s none of your damn business…” his voice trailing into the air as Jotaro’s distracted by your sobbing as you were walking forward. Seeing you this helpless, somehow broke Jotaro’s heart. Even after experiencing all of those nightmares, even after being tired of his mother Holly and his father Sadao going on arguing, the only one who he thought about that brought him peace was your image. This alone caused him to visit you more and more before he had to leave. He moved to America because he was scared of the feelings he was experiencing. However, this conversation and the circumstances made him realize that nothing lasts forever, so it’s best to say something now than regret it later.

Jotaro calms himself down, while a couple of tears stream down his cheek and he tells Kakyoin, “Now’s not the right time to tell her anything. I want to wait before I tell her.” Placing his hand on Jotaro's shoulder, Kakyoin replied, “it’s okay. Just tell her how you feel and give her time to think about it. It’s better to say now than regret later, right?” Losing Avdol and Iggy and almost losing Polnareff, Joseph and Kakyoin were enough. He didn’t want to lose you too. Pointing his finger at Kakyoin, Jotaro replied, “Okay. I shall tell her. It’ll be hard though, so if she rejects me, it’s on you, Kakyoin!”

A couple of days later, Jotaro approaches your parents, asks them permission, and calls out to you. “Y/N! We’re going for a small drive. You’re coming, I don’t care.” You pucker your lips at him in confusion, wondering what led him to behave in such a peculiar manner. You freshen up, get ready and leave with Jotaro. He puts you in his car, starts it, and takes off on the road. You turn towards him and ask him, “Jotaro, where are we going?” He lowers his hat and says, “shush, I'm not going to tell you anything until we reach our destination.” Scowling at him, you fold your hands and look up in the sky as you observe the stars twinkling as Jotaro turns on the music and Coldplay's Yellow plays.

You side-eye at him in confusion as you look back at the sky, leaning on the car seat and shutting your eyes, feeling the breeze kissing your cheeks. As you drift into a short slumber, with your hands now drooping on your sides, you were oblivious to Jotaro's continuous stolen glances at you as he focused on the road. In the midst of those stolen glances, with the back of his fingers, he caressed your cheek and put the same hand on your left hand, holding it tightly. He softly smiled at you, whispering, "Just wait until we reach, (Y/N)," as he let go temporarily.

Moments later, both of you arrived at Tokiwa Bridge. Jotaro stopped the car, the jerk causing you to open your eyes. “Where are we?�� You question as Jotaro lowers his hat, saying, "Tokiwa Bridge, I took you here to show you something." He opened the door of your side and put his hand forward. A tint of blush appears on your cheeks as you put your hand on his and he brings you out of the car. As you stepped out, you saw the incandescent moon reflecting her light on the clear cerulean sea. As your eyes were focused on the reflection, both of your hands were on the stone railing, as you noticed that some of the fish came out of the water and jumped into it. You stood beside the seemingly stoic man, in awe of what you saw, and just noticed that the moon shed light on him as well, revealing that he had tears in his eyes but he wasn't sobbing at all.

“Jotaro, why are we here?” You ask him, softly, placing your hand on his as the chilly wind brushes against the gap between both, causing you to lightly hiss in the cold. "When you smile, it's infectious," Jotaro recalled, causing you to look into his eyes in bewilderment. He pondered, "Do you remember quoting that for your sister in your eulogy?" You nod at him, replying, "Something like yes, why?" He took out his hand from under yours and softly caressed your cheek, saying, "I feel this way about you too."

Your eyes widen at his surprising confession. You knew that Jotaro was not someone who'd reveal his feelings to you. Yet, even that small statement caused butterflies to flutter in your stomach. Needing time to understand what was going on, your eyes look to the ground while Jotaro continued. "I know that it is not the right time to tell you this, but I..I.." You immediately look up into his eyes and call out to him, "Jotaro!" causing him to flinch a little bit. "Okay now, what is it, woman?" As if it was a reflex, you enveloped him in your arms and tell him, "I know what you're going to say. I like you too, Jotaro. I know that you feel the same way, else you wouldn't have rushed to be with me here. But..."

He sighs and strokes your hair, responding, "I know, you need time. That's totally fine. This process of grief is not easy. I, of all people, should know. But, she's with you in spirit, and you know it. While she's irreplaceable, this shouldn't stop you from pursuing what you want to achieve. As days pass, it will get easier." With his index finger, he pulls your head up so that both of you look into each other's eyes. "And whenever you're ready," he continues, bringing his face forward and pressing his forehead against yours as he kisses you for what seemed to be an eternity, but was only for a few seconds.

He then pulls away and says, "I will be here." No sooner did he say that, than tears kept rolling down your cheeks. You felt a sense of relief washing over you because someone you deeply liked, was willing to wait for you to heal, with the stars and the moon being witness to this declaration of love. You hugged him again, desperately wishing for a day when it will get easier. Your sister would've loved him, this is something that you felt tonight, and with that, you were slowly able to let go of the pain.

© Shyna 2022

If you've come till here, thank you so much. Hope you have a great weekend. Also, if you have a sibling, please cherish that relationship. Those bonds are super rare.

#Spotify #coldplay #yellow #jotaro kujo #jotaro x you #jotaro x reader #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo no kimyō na bōken #shyna angst #tribute to sibling #musings of an extrovert #jotarna

[oh-hush-its-perfect]

do you think there is any significance that alex's colour scheme is green and pink? or do you think rr went "u know what this character needs? to look like a watermelon"

((Prefacing this by saying that I'm giving RR way too much credit here, but you shouldn't take anything an author does for granted— even a serial author who often makes blunders and mistakes.))

A while ago I saw a (pretty unfair) assumption that RR made it green and pink because blue and pink would be too obvious, but that his intention was obviously to reinforce the gender binary by using two distinctly gendered colors for a character with two distinct genders. Of course, they did not phrase it so delicately. No offense to whoever made that post, but I disagree.

Although that may have had to do with it, there's other things to consider. One of them is color symbolism. And oh. OH. I ADORE symbolism— especially flower/plant symbolism (Language of the Flowers and all that jazz), seasonal symbolism (there's a reason that evermore is my second favorite Taylor Swift album), and color symbolism.

GREEN

Let's talk about green first. Green can symbolize a lot of different things, and there are a few that can be applied to Alex's character. The most obvious thing that green often represents is jealousy— hence the expression "green with envy." But envy is not really one of Alex's character traits. Feel free to argue with me if you think that Alex is significantly envious. Just because I couldn't think of substantial textual evidence for it does not mean that there isn't any.

One of the traits that Alex does have is wealth. Green is the color of American currency, and since both RR and Alex are American, it's safe to take an American lens while looking at this color. Alex's socioeconomic background effects her in a big way. I mentioned in a previous post that I think that Alex's fatal flaw is her sense of entitlement. That kind of entitlement is a quality not exclusive to but common among the upper class. However, her distance from her wealthy background enhances the sense of irony in the story, which is a VERY big thing that we NEVER talk about within the fandom.

This is kind of a little thing, but it's worth noting that when it comes to Valhalla and everything, Alex is "green"— as in new and inexperienced.

The color green also emphasizes Alex's connection with nature. This is one of the parts of Alex's character that the fandom consistently underplays, which is an absolute shame. I don't think I have to explain why the color green is associated with all things natural. Alex's association with nature provides a few key things to her character:

It makes her a more well-rounded character. Another criticism of Alex I believe is totally unfounded is that "being genderfluid is her only personality trait because it influences her philosophy on pottery, which is her only hobby." I'm probably going to make another post in, like, a few minutes about why I find that argument a little silly, but the primary problem is that pottery is not Alex's only hobby. She also loves camping, hiking, and ice wall climbing (I bet y'all forgot about that last one!)

It gives her a connection with Magnus. I mentioned in a previous post that Magnus and Alex are foils, but I neglected to bring up why that also makes for very good chemistry between them. Of course, yes, they have different goals and philosophy, which is what makes them foils in the first place. But foil relationships function best when the characters also share some traits. As it turns out, Alex and Magnus share several hobbies, and one of them is a mutual love for nature. This is a very unexplored thing in fics. Start doing it more plz.

Finally, and this one's kind of minor, but the Alex's green gives her a connection to Natalie. I know, whenever Alex and Natalie are compared, either in canon or in fandom, everybody kind goes "eww. Oedipus complex." Which is very fair and true. But they really do have a lot of similarites. The green of Alex's hair and clothes connects her to the green of Natalie's eyes. It's worth saying, too, that Alex has one amber eye— and amber is pretty close to dirty blonde, like Natalie's hair.

If I had more faith in RR, I might bring up the concept of intextuality and how Alex wearing green is an allusion to The Great Gatsby and how Alex is elusive to Magnus, just like Daisy is to Gatsby. But I don't.

PINK

To give credit to the person who wrote the post I mentioned at the beginning of this spiel, I do believe that part of the reason pink was used was to support femininity. Please keep in mind that Alex dresses in an androgynous way— not that there is an actually "gendered" way to dress, since gender as we perceive it is mostly made up. But Alex's existence as a transfemme person (which I will maintain until my dying day) means that pink has a certain significance to her. A lot of AMAB people embrace traditionally feminine things because if they don't, they will not be accepted as genuine women or genuine nonbinary folks, since masculine dress is unisex and kind of the default. So Alex wearing pink probably had something to do with her gender, yes. But that's not necessarily a bad thing, and it's certainly not an unrealistic thing.

Speaking of Alex's gender in relation to the color pink, let's talk about pink's use as a queer rights symbol. Alex was RR's first character to be introduced as a queer character from the start. This was not an insignificant thing, especially in the year of our Lord 2016 (which, despite popular belief, seriously had an entirely different landscape of queer rep. Though it's commonplace now to include genderqueer characters, it was exceptional at the time— especially by such an accomplished and mainstream children's author.).

Let's go back in time to Nazi Germany. Some of you might know this, but for those of you don't this transition must seem jarring. I swear there's a point. In addition to Jews, Romani individuals, people with disabilities, and Poles (among others), gay men were victimized by the Nazis. If you're wondering why lesbians weren't persecuted, it's because the Nazis didn't see them as a serious political threat, or as a threat to the perpetuation of the Aryan race since they assumed gay women could be forcefully impregnated if need be. Yeah, ew. Anyway, much like the Star of David being used to mark Jewish people, gay men were forced into concentration camps and forced to wear a pink triangle. Years later, after the gay population somewhat recovered, the pink triangle was reclaimed and used as a symbol for gay men. Some people who were not gay men used it, too, but that's somewhat controversial since it wasn't their symbol to reclaim. When the first pride flag was created, it had a pink stripe at the top to signify sex (this was later dropped so flags could be more easily produced). The pink triangle (inverted) was used during the AIDs epidemic with the caption "Silence=Death."

My point is that this is a very important color to queer folks. Having one of the first genderfluid characters in kid's lit wear pink...... I mean, it makes sense.

The last and final thing that pink represents, in this context and in general, is innocence. Granted, this kind of connects to feminitity since women (especially white women) are often infantalized and seen as innocent— which is another issue. In any case, the use of pink to represent innocence in Alex's dress is ironic. Alex has been robbed of her childhood innocence, first by her abusive parents, then by her life on the streets, and then by her eventual death at age sixteen. But then she actually regains her innocence. At the beginning of the—

Hold on. I just had a revelation. I'll make a post about it soon.

At the beginning of SotD, Alex is acting a little childish. The most obvious example is him jumping on Randolph's bed to "make noise." Alex's life is stable and relatively healthy for the first time in the years, and she experiences something that a lot of queer folks experience: a re-emergence of childhood at a late stage.

I imagine you didn't expect a post this long. I either make essay responses to asks or I add on one sentence and post it. Oops. Anyway, I believe the mcga fandom can be more creative than calling Alex a watermelon. Here are some other (kinda romantic) pink-and-green alternatives:

Roses

Dragonfruit

Grapefruit

Cherry blossom trees

#mcga #magnus chase #alex fierro #mcatgoa #magnus chase and the gods of asgard #sorry for the long response lol #thanks for the ask! I had a go of it!

[mirrorforevers]

here, there, and everywhere • graham coxon/reader

this fic is based on two prompts y'all sent me:

and

this fic really tested all of my blur knowledge holy Fuck. blur as talking heads au i guess. how cool would it be if they

1. had a girl bassist instead of the cheese tory dude

2. werent as unhappy as they were in the mid 90s (just a bit)

3. were just a little 🤏🏻 bit more female friendly lets just pretend this is a universe where the blurjob passes didnt exist heh

it took me everything i had to make this sound as realistic as it could be. u know these girls who think they could fix patrick bateman or don draper? perhaps y’all could fix blur

consider this a gift n not only me writing for your prompt, @nottuned! thank u so much for all your support n encouragement n for always bein so sweet 🥺 i hope u enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it!

let’s see how many references to unfortunate britpop moments y’all can find in this

also i hope i captured the silliness of the gossip and drama in that era well. if you enjoyed it, please leave an ask telling me more! ur feedback is rly important to me 😔✊🏻

tw (?) reader has shitty parents

word count: 7.938 (this one's quite long!)

smut. set in the 90s. au.

You were unlocking your door when you heard your house phone ring. The shrill sound echoed through the empty corridors as you hurriedly unwrapped your scarf, tossing your keys and backpack on nearby furniture as you ran to answer the call.

“Hello?” You answer, panting.

“Y/N?”

“Dave?” You smile, that call was a very welcome surprise. Your friend owed you an answer.

-

A few weeks ago, Dave Rowntree, your music classmate who became a close friend, told you that he had teamed up with two other proficient musicians to form a band. Dave was ecstatic, and every day he had new stories about his new friends to tell you between breakfasts and lunches that you shared between the countless hours of rehearsals. Even though you weren't part of the group, you already felt that you knew Damon and Graham like the back of your hand. Yin and Yang. One was expansive, ambitious, vain, impulsive. The other, shy, introspective, anxious and careful.

Damon Albarn wanted to be an actor, Graham Coxon had a firm foot in the visual arts. One was a fan of grand classical compositions, the other was a Beatles fan. They had been friends since they were children, in a seemingly unbreakable bond. Damon dropped out of his theater class not only because out of a sudden he had found a bigger calling in music instead of acting, but also because he couldn't stand being away from his best friend for so long. You found yourself often imagining their faces and voices while trying to make all of the wild and endearingly funny stories Dave told you more tangible in your head.

It was not long before Dave started dropping little hints that they needed someone else for their project. “It’s not that Graham isn’t good at bass,” he’d say, “but we could do better.” It wasn't at the top of your plans to be part of a band right now, especially as you were preparing intensely to join the Royal Academy of Music, and he knew it. When you mentioned the conversations you had with Dave about the boys on your family dinner, in quiet wonder and timid want of being part of something really exciting, your parents wrinkled their noses. Focus on the greater things, they’d say. Don’t let these boys distract you from your goal.

Our goal, they meant to say. Since you were born, you never knew if the things you wanted were really your will or theirs.

But anyway.

That dynamic went on for a while, until the day Dave invited you to audition for them while you shared a Diet Coke in the tube home.

“Will it take too much of my time?” You asked, coyly.

“Bold of you to assume we’ll let you in that quickly.” He chuckles, amused by your confidence. You playfully elbow him in return. He knew how good you were at what you did, though, and there’s lightness in his tone when he continues, “But no, unless you let it. You’ll probably have to stand up to Damon every once in a while.” He sips the drink, handing it over to you.

“What about Graham? How much is he determined to make it big?”

“Damon’s the one who wants it the most. Graham’s studying Fine Arts at Goldsmiths, so. There’s still cautiousness in him.”

“Huh. Okay then.” You reply, thoughts running wild. “Do we have a time and date?”

“Is tomorrow ok to you?”

“Sure. After our class?”

“Perfect.” The train reaches his station. He ruffles your hair: “See you tomorrow then.”

“See you.”

You don’t tell anything about it to your parents, you just warn them that you’ll arrive a bit later than usual. Dave’s intel was crucial to your choice of songs: knowing Graham was the beatlemaniac and also the rational brake to Damon’s tireless ambition, you knew who to please and have as an ally, so you build an innovative and fresh mashup of Paul McCartney’s greatest basslines to play for them. Of course it could backfire, but you didn’t care. You had a hell of a good ear anyway and if Damon wanted you to play anything out of the blue, you would improvise beautifully over it.

The day comes. You didn’t know why you were that nervous for an amateur audition. You weren’t even sure if it was the right path to follow, given that, depending on how focused Damon really was and how contagious his aspiration was, being part of a band could really take you out of your predestinated course. The reason why you were so nervous, now thinking a little more about it, may be because deep inside, you want your path to be a little less predictable. You didn’t want to fill your heart with hopes that you might make it big and travel all over the world because you didn’t even know them. But… what if it clicks? You knew some people in the scene whose work was getting seriously recognized out there.

Meeting them for the first time was an enigmatic experience. Damon was incredibly brash and cocky - not the first theater kid you’ve met in your life. Graham was way more approachable, though also a bit conceited when pushed just right. You wondered if you’d fit in that boys’ club, and decided you wouldn’t be an easy target for discredit or any kind of shit they might give you. “Took me a while to fully get their trust. You’ll do just fine”, Dave said, out of their earshot.

That gave you more fuel to play amazingly well. Damon definitely wasn’t one to be impressed quickly, but he was, when you finished your set. So was Graham - Graham was starry eyed with your performance, actually. Albarn showed you a song and asked you if you could improvise to it, just as you imagined. Of course you could, on the first play. You even suggested some adjustments to its structure. Your feedback was welcomed and noted.

-

Even though everything went surprisingly well, you still weren't sure if you would be a member of “Seymour”, as they called themselves. (You knew it wasn’t the best name, but you didn’t have a better suggestion at the time so you’ve kept your opinion to yourself.) Graham became eerily quiet out of a sudden and wouldn’t cross eyes with you the entire time you were there. Damon, well, was Damon. Perhaps he thought you were too ordinary and mainstream for deciding to play Beatles when he’s trying to be the new avant-garde Jesus.

But Dave's news was different than you expected. “They really, really enjoyed your audition. As I thought they would.” You can hear the smile in his voice. "When can you rehearse with us?"

-

Months after, on your first gig as a fully formed and integrated band, Damon was hit in the face by a guy twice his size, Graham vomited onstage and you and Dave had to take care of both. A beautiful way to close the already exquisite day you had, after you fought with your parents, got kicked out of your childhood home and gave up on entering the Royal Academy of Music two days after you received your acceptance letter featuring rave reviews of your entrance exam.

Dealing with these boys - no, grown-ass men - was hard, but not completely unpleasant. If it were totally unpleasant, you wouldn’t give up on your entire life to embark on such an adventure.

You - plural you - were so gifted and Damon’s compositions were so good. You could see that artsy pretentious mess of an act going somewhere. Of course, you were a bit lost in your life, but so were they, as you ran from city to city meeting new people and trying new things in your journey to fame.

Loneliness, once a close friend, became a distant acquaintance. One you didn’t know anymore.

You confess you were getting worried, though, with how much money you had left on your savings and how much you were spending lately now that your parents weren’t an active part of your life. Wanting to eat something you cannot dream of buying without that money being really useful in a much more critical situation, not having nearly enough money to replace something important that broke or got torn off was frustrating. Some basic things became luxuries out of a sudden.

One day in particular, you very briefly mentioned that you were dying to eat a slice of chocolate cake, but your voice was so small and everyone was so immersed in their duties you thought no one gave two shits to what you said. Two days later, Graham arrived late at rehearsal with a small chocolate cake in his hands, handing it over to you like it was a completely ordinary act. Nothing in the way he acted told you he expected a reward, it was so natural and… gentle. You knew no one in your band could buy a chocolate cake without it being apocalyptic to their personal finances during that time.

That day, you were assured by fate that feeling lost together was better than feeling guided alone.

-

The band finally got on track - strictly musically speaking. Personally speaking, many contemporaries who followed you at parties and other events described you as an ever-growing odd, annoying and intermittently disarming bunch - and Blur and its members became household names, at least in the UK. It became harder and harder everyday to impose yourself as an entire industry and its target public aimed to tear you down. Men couldn’t understand.

(Graham Coxon was the one who tried the hardest to.)

It was four in the morning. You’ve got used to following your bandmates to hospitals, running away from trouble or knowing when to relish in it. But it was the first time you offered yourself to clean up dried blood from one’s face, given how much you hated seeing the fluid and even fainted when younger whenever exposed to it.

You, so delicately, wipe the saline solution-soaked cotton across Graham’s face, who flinches at the cold sensation on his still sensitive skin. He stares at you with the eyes of a child, and you couldn’t help but give him a slight, warm smile in return, which he retributes. Your face conveyed gratitude and affection towards the one you were taking care of. Your hands still struggled to stay completely still after the surge of adrenaline your body received a few hours ago.

Being the only girl in a massive band, and one the music magazines and mainstream media loved sexualizing, meant having paparazzis in your window in odd hours (not that that’s acceptable in any hour, but you had to lower your standards even more these days), meant having different photographers trying to pressure you to get into all kinds of uncomfortable angles with skimpy-ass dresses and just count on the intervention of your fellow bandmates so they would stop, also having invasive male fans who would try to harass you in any way they could.

Of course the day where one of your bandmates would get into a fist fight with one of these men inserted into these categories would come. And even though they were all protective of you, each in their own peculiar, increasingly contradictory way, Graham’s dedication to it was sometimes commendable.

You were making your way through a small corridor of people on your way to the stage when a random guy cupped one of your breasts. It’s not like the venue was incredibly tight, it could not have been on accident and it made your blood boil. You turned around to scream at him, and Graham, who was just behind you, threw a punch directly towards the man’s face, without thinking twice.

And oh boy, took a lot of people and a sweet amount of time to separate the two after that.

After all was said and done, Graham had a few scratches, a black eye and a cut brow. He kept dodging your many “sorrys”, “you didn’t have to do this” and other expressions of guilt. “You have nothing to be sorry about, he deserved it”, he kept assuring you, like a mantra, just giving in to your pleas when you supplicated to take care of his wounds during intermission and after the show.

“I get why you did what you did, Gra. I hate that you took such a risk because of me, but I understand.” you say, voice cracking from not using it for a while after spending some good minutes in complete silence taking care of him. “However,” you soak another cotton ball in the saline solution a roadie got you, punctuating the word with a squeeze to the cotton to remove excess liquid. “I was worried sick about you. What if he… had a knife or something? You could’ve got seriously injured. Or killed.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m perfectly able to have a good fight,” after wincing from the contact of the cold wet cotton with his dried blood, he purses his lips in a forced, shy smile, trying to light up the mood. He notices your hands are still shaking from the adrenaline, and takes one of them in his bigger ones, trying to calm you down. The fact that he did this for you, coupled with the fear and how tired you felt of having to go through that kind of situation once again, made you cry-laugh from how overwhelmed you felt.

His expression changes to one of pure compassion in an instant. “Hey, don’t--oh my,” he gets up from his chair to embrace you as you pour your frustrations through fat tears running down his shoulder.

“It’s so exhausting,” you mumble, through sobs. “Now I’m putting you in danger too. I feel like I did and I’m still doing everything wrong. I should be the one giving you a shoulder to cry on.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong! Anything at all, I promise you,” he says, tenderly, running his hands through your hair, still holding you tight. “It was his fault! I decided it was the right thing to do. You’re worth the risk. What people have been putting you through is unacceptable.”

“I’m not worth the risk!” You break apart from his arms, trying to get your point across. “What would I do without you if someone killed you? You need to be more careful!”

The silence hangs heavy between you two thanks to the weight of your words.

“You should’ve asked me before you lunged at him, at least. I don’t know.” You wipe your many tears as you move towards the nearest bottle of water to try to calm yourself down. “It’ll never end. I’m so afraid that these situations will get even worse. That,” you motion at his wounds and dirty clothes, “is a bloody tragedy. It’s a tragedy things escalated to this point. You can’t do that forever.”

“This is just a consequence. And something I would do for you in a heartbeat whenever necessary.”

“Graham, I don’t want you to get hurt because--”

“They hurt you. I won’t let you go through that alone. Besides,” he comes closer to you again. “As I already told you, I can take care of myself, most of the time.” He takes your face in his hands, his fingers so delicately running across your cheeks to dry your tears. You knew that gesture wasn’t his way of asking you for anything you weren’t ready to give him yet. He just wanted you to feel safe. “And I want to take care of you.”

“I’m the one cleaning your wounds.”

“A great partnership, I think.” Coxon chuckles softly, and finally gets a smile out of you. As he always does. “And they make me look cool, don’t you think?”

“Shut up.” You giggle, still feeling too emotional to return to the stage. You sigh: “Thank you for being there for me. You know I’m still not very used to it. Just please be safe.”

The roadie returns, a little flustered by interrupting your little moment together. “5 minutes and you’re back, guys.”

“Okay!” You both turn to answer her.

“I’ll be. No need to thank me for anything, Y/N.” He answers, giving your forehead a little kiss. “Let’s go.”

“Give me two minutes. I’ll be right behind you.”

-

“What’s it like, being the only woman in the band?”

Four eyerolls at once don’t seem to faze the interviewer. She waits for your response.

Apparently the thousand invasive questions regarding Damon’s love life and the same bullshit treatment of women as either rare specimen or sex dolls is what pleases the audience of music TV shows these days.

“What do you think?” is what you say.

“Must be a thrill to have these beautiful boys around you all the time. And we’ve heard you never even took advantage of it!”

You don’t like where this is heading. “Is that… a bad thing? I don’t know what you mean.”

“Perhaps some of our lady viewers might think it is. No judgement though!” She raises her hands. “You do you, it’s just that it’s quite unexpected to see prudes in non-Christian bands. I mean… from what we’ve heard.”

“I’m sorry? What are you trying to say? What did you hear?”

Her tongue clicks while she stares at you with defiance and mischief on her eyes, as she goes a little further and raises her voice so it can overlay yours. “Oh love. You do know what I’m talking about. There’s no need to be ashamed of being a virgin.”

Your cheek burns intensely and the only thing you wished for was for the ground to swallow you whole. Dave and Graham are especially uncomfortable. Damon’s a bit amused. The three knew almost everything there was to know about you. The one topic that surprisingly they didn’t know about is that you’re still a virgin.

They know you’ve been single for a long time. They know that’s part of what draws so much attention and twisted lore regarding you and your past, but that’s not something they felt they needed to know about you at all, and you truly never felt the need to comment about that with any of them, and they haven’t asked. Not even Mr. “the way to be successful in this game is to make all the boys wanna be you and all the girls wanna sleep with you. In your case that’d work in reverse” Damon Albarn.

“Is that even something that should be discussed in an interview about our music? Is that what your boss told you to ask her about?” Dave answers, his tone venomous.

“Musicians are way more than just music. You’re entertainment in every sense of the word.”

“Who told you that about me?” You asked, not sure if you want to know the answer.

“A lovely elderly lady who lives in Elgin Crescent. She knows you so well.”

That’s your mum. That’s how far low your relationship has degraded. You’re not surprised. That doesn’t feel less like a punch on your gut, but you don’t feel like tumbling again. Not today.

“I know who you’re talking about. Tell her I asked her to go fuck herself and burn in hell. In that order.”

“But that’s your--”

“Yes, she is my mum!” If people are going to expose you anyway, then why don’t you do it on your terms? “We’re truly entertainment in every sense of the word, aren’t we. Not everyone’s mum’s a cunt. Some of us aren’t that lucky.”

“You want to be the next Gallagher sister with the spicy remarks?”

“Not sure. But I do want to be the last person you ever get to interview.”

-

The management of the band wasn’t at all surprised your interview became UK’s topic of the week. People were heavily divided between family is family and we shouldn’t hate our relatives and blood isn’t everything, family can be shitty too. Your bandmates were proud of you. The management was angry but tried to understand, and didn’t press you for further explanations. They suggested a two-week break from everything so Blur could rest their image and start a fresh cycle after that, and you gracefully accepted it.

The whole thing seemed so ridiculous the more you thought about it. Did your mum tell the reporter about that gratuitously? What was their conversation like? How did that even happen?

You became the butt of jokes in some places. You saw other famous people doing challenges between them, countdowns, all sorts of crude remarks. What a pathetic, sad chapter of your career.

You dial Graham, and you feel like your heart was about to burst out of your chest.

“Hey, Gra. It’s me.”

“Hey, Y/N.” He sounds pleasantly surprised. “How's it going?”

“Better, I guess. I have to take my mind off all that chaos though. Are you available right now?”

“Yeah.”

“You’ve been owing me a movie night for quite a while now and I miss spending time with you. Wanna come over?”

“Aww. Sure, I--um. Do you want me to bring anything?”

“I’m pretty sure I got everything we need here--ah… I think I don’t have any more beers.”

“I’ll buy some then. See ya in a few minutes.”

Actually, you couldn’t take all that chaos off your mind because that was the only thing in it. You’re feeling so nervous.

The main reasons sex wasn’t a priority for you until now were:

You didn’t have any real opportunities of losing your virginity in your teens. You were impossibly introspective until, like, 3, 4 years ago, and the way your family worked hasn’t really allowed you to get really close to people. Be it boyfriends, girlfriends or just friends. Anything that threatened to take time off the various tasks and classes your parents assigned to you just couldn’t be part of your life. To be honest, you still struggled a bit to form meaningful connections with people thanks to how you grew up.

The moment you stopped being shy, you noticed it was a real man’s world out there, especially in music, classical or not. You didn’t want anyone to think you fucked your way up to the top, you didn’t want any messy affairs. Also, you had yourself, and you didn’t get all of the hype regarding the concept of screwing someone. But apparently there’s a lot you’ve been missing, given the importance people seem to give to it. After that incident, even though you swore to yourself you wouldn’t give in to any kind of misogynistic pressure, that was one that really got under your skin.

You never really found someone who you felt 100% safe with in that sense until the one who’s about to arrive at your house appeared in your life. Bloody hell, and you don’t even have anything romantic going on. By the time you were a Blur member, you’ve fooled around a bit, but not all the way. You knew how to kiss, knew how to touch yourself and even brought manual satisfaction to some random fool you thought you were into one time. But perhaps this is the time to go all the way. Why not? Everyone knew how close you two were. He made you feel special. He was so kind. And gorgeous. And--

You hear a knock on your door. It’s him. Beers in hand, hair somewhat in place, twitchy as ever.

He comes inside and you feel like your legs will give up anytime. It was not the first time he visited you. It was one of many, actually, and he noticed you were acting… different.

“Y/N, are you okay?” He asks after a brief dialogue between you two, after plating some snacks for both of you.

“Graham...” You sigh, being really careful with your words. “What is your perception of me?”

“My perception of you?” He smiles. “I… think you’re great. You’re fun to be around. You’re one of the best musicians I know, if not the best. Why are you asking me that?”

“N-nothing. It’s nothing. Also, I asked the wrong question. What was your first perception of me?”

“Uh… the day of your audition?”

“Exactly. You barely talked to me that day.”

His eyes lower to his own feet. “I was really timid, actually. I wasn’t used to being near any girl, especially one who… w-would spend so much time around me if everything went well.”

You giggle. “I thought you hated me.”

“Never!” his smile turns into a full blown laughter. You melt at his confession. “Also because it seemed like you were trying to read my mind or something.”

“Of course! Because I thought you hated me!” Now that was a laughter you two shared. You do a voice: “‘Why is that pesky girl trying to get in my band?’”

“My goodness, no! I don’t even sound like that - you know what, I changed my mind. You suck. Because, besides the fact you don’t even know what I sound like, you still haven’t told me why you are asking me that in the first place.”

You couldn’t help but notice how he slightly cornered you physically in one of the kitchen corridors. Graham could be really persuasive when he wanted to.

“Okay. Right. Um. I’ve been thinking about some stuff.”

“What, exactly?”

“Everything that happened this month. The great virginity debacle,” you roll your eyes, and he scoffs.

“You don’t own anyone any information about what you do or don't do with your life. Everyone’s being so invasive. That was incredibly childish of the reporter to do, and we talked about that hundreds of times.”

“Yeah, but… you know what, forget it.”

“Tell me, Y/N. I just said that because I want you to know you were not in the wrong.”

“I know. It’s just… I’ve been thinking that maybe it’s silly for me to… keep closing myself for affection. Any kind of affection.”

“What are you talking about?” His brows furrowed in curiosity.

“I’m not sure if it’s the pressure that finally got under my skin, but… I’m willing to learn what all the fuss is about. Maybe it’s silly that I’m still a virgin.”

He bites his lips, still processing what you just said, expression unreadable. Perhaps you’ve treaded a ground you shouldn’t. You step back both literally and figuratively. “I’m sorry I even brought that up--”

“No, no, don’t be.” He assures you. “I’m just… surprised, that’s all. I swear.”

“And...” You know what. You already went too far, so why not go all the way. You’ve already gone way past the point of no return. “I was wondering if… you would… popmycherry?”

His eyes widen, yours still closed. When you finally open them, he’s closer to you again.

If his head was a machine, you’re sure it would be releasing lots of steam and shaking due to overprocessing. You felt like you just ruined everything.

“Y/N, you don’t need to do it if you don’t really want to.”

“But I want it! At first I thought I didn’t, but then I thought...”

“I don’t want to be part of that if you’re just doing it to fulfill weird expectations.”

“But it’s not that. Not just... that. I asked about your perception of me because I really like you, Gra. I think we should be more than friends and I wanted to know what you think about me. And I want to know what the fuss is about, yes, but I’m not telling you that just so I can lose my virginity to prove some point. I’m telling you that because I like you, I want to kiss you, and I think it would be a great idea if you showed me what it’s like. Y-you know, sex.”

“I-I can’t believe it. Did you even have any movie in mind?” His smile’s back, but you’re still not confident about what his answer will be.

“I didn’t. I’m sorry. You don’t have to--”

He sighs. “I was in love with you the moment I first saw you, actually.” He says it like he’s releasing a huge load out of his back, his arms crossed. Now your eyes widen, and you hold your breath without even noticing. “I didn’t want you to feel pressured. I know how you feel, or, felt about relationships, so… there wasn’t any reason for me to tell you that. And what I said about being timid was just half of the truth.”

“Huh?”

“I also was really intimidated by how pretty you looked. You can’t imagine how.”

“No way.”

“It’s true. I felt like I wasn’t even worthy of looking at you, really.”

“You’re joking. That’s mean, Gra.”

“I’m not. I’m really not.” He doesn’t look like he is joking. He looks relieved. “I’m really not. That’s why I’m so surprised by your request.”

“I’m nothing special.”

“You are everything to me. But I can’t accept your offer, not now.”

“Are you… seeing someone? Am I too late?”

“No. Definitely not. I just want you to be sure you’re not doing it because people are saying you should.”

“Graham, I’m a grown woman.”

“I know.”

Graham carefully presses his slightly chapped lips to yours, kissing you for a few precious, heart stopping seconds before pulling away; his voice is impossibly silky when he suggests, “Let’s watch a movie. How about The Godfather? I heard it’s airing tonight. Then, if in two weeks you don’t change your mind, tell me and I’ll be glad to help you with what you want. Do we have a deal?”

“That’s so unfair. I want you so bad.” You whisper.

“Tell me if you still do in two weeks.”

You sigh, defeated. “...Deal.”

-

You definitely notice the subtle shift in Graham’s personality and actions after that fateful night. If you were already close, both figuratively and literally, it now seemed like he would use any excuse to always touch you, be near you, sometimes tease you. The shift was subtle, though, don’t forget it’s still Graham Coxon we’re talking about - the constant “is it okay if”s or “is it alright if I”s were still there, as careful as ever. You don’t even talk about your deal that entire time, or even kiss again - sometimes you wondered if it was even real or just a fabrication of your mind.

The way he now caressed your hand discreetly when you listened to Damon’s ramblings, the way his hands now went directly to your waist when your games became too handsy, the way he seemed to be madly in love with everything you were and still are from the start - made you realize you were ready for this man to be a consistent part of your life.

The dust of the controversy was settled, and your own intentions were 100% clear to you now. The societal pressure has waned. The need for Graham to be your first persisted. After exactly 2 weeks have passed, you call him again, yearning to share the answer with him.

One beep.

Two beeps.

Three beeps.

Four beeps. “Hello?”

You release a sigh hidden deep inside of your lungs. “Graham, it’s Y/N.”

“Oh. It’s been two weeks.” You could hear the contemplative tone of his voice.

“...Yeah. That’s precisely the reason I’m calling you.”

“Do you still want to…?”

“...Desperately.”

“Ok.” He chuckles, flustered as hell on the other side of the phone, probably one of the prettiest sounds you’ve ever heard. “Right. Ok. Your place or mine?”

“I think there’ll be an element of mystery if I go to your place this time.” You lose some of the constraints this silly shyness has been tying you on. “Do you have everything we might need there?”

“We don’t need a dungeon, you know.”

“The basics.” You make your smile heard.

“I do have… I do have the basics.”

“See you in a few minutes then.”

“Will you want to… ease into it? Or just go straight to it?”

“God, don’t make it awkward!” Your cheeks burn, your smile turning into contagious laughter. “Maybe… I don’t know. Ease into it, I guess? A movie night… but with s-something else?”

“Okay. Sounds good.”

“Alright then. See you.”

“See you.”

-

You don’t choose any particularly fancy or sexy clothes, instead settling for a slightly oversized yellow striped shirt he gave you as a birthday present some months ago and some skirt that fit you well. He wasn’t one to lavish his loved ones with gifts all the time, but few things were as precious as the look on his face whenever he saw you wearing something he gave you or, hell, even eating something he paid for you. You’re thrilled to see it again when he opens the door for you, it easing some of your deepest doubts.

2001: A Space Odyssey is already playing on the TV when you arrive. Despite it being one of your favorite movies of all time, and his, you’re not mad it was already halfway through when you arrived. It wasn’t your main priority to rewatch it for the 17th time tonight.

He offers you some wine, which you accept to ease the nerves. You sit on his couch, and he shares the cozy space with you, now mindlessly throwing one of his arms around your shoulders. You cuddle up to him, and everything seems peaceful in the world for a while.

The tip of his fingers softly caress your lifted knee, absentmindedly. You couldn’t help but notice how well his body fits with yours, how your skin was apparently made for him to touch, and the anxiety rumbles in your stomach like a storm in a wild wavy sea. After some minutes, you raise your head, his big brown eyes meeting yours as if asking you a silent question. You leaned up a bit more to press your lips to his, in a silent answer. The sweetness in him makes this moment as precious as every other moment you ever shared with him. His hands enter your hair, making you shiver a bit from the unfamiliarity and the electricity of it all - but it doesn’t sway you from deepening the kiss, wanting more of his taste, more of this, more of him.

“Do you wanna take this to the bed?” He whispers, after noticing your moans were becoming more frequent and needy. You nod, and you are taken by surprise when he carries you bridal style to it, hiding your excited giggles in his broad shoulders.

Graham wasn’t exactly the most organized man in the world - so the fact that his bedroom was now impossibly tidy was something that positively caught your attention. He put some planning into this. He lays you down and you part your legs, beckoning him to meet you between them. He does, and you go back to the breathtaking makeout session. You notice he’s holding himself back a bit, taking his time, his warm tongue moving smoothly, not hurriedly, against yours. His self control falters a bit though, given how he can’t stop grinding against you. You follow the rhythm of his hips a bit timidly and not nearly as in sync as you’d really like, though the pressure his covered cock is creating against your core can already be felt and some particular thrusts are able to fill at least partially the aching, wet need growing within you.

“How do you feel about oral?” He asks, breath warm near your ear, his voice raspy and spent by his desire for you.

“Um… It would be my first time receiving or doing it.”

“Would you like me to go down on you?”

“Wow. I never thought I would hear you saying something like that.” You smile, still assimilating the situation you’re in, trying not to show how badly his voice is affecting you. “Sure.”

“I never thought I would get to propose this to you. Aren’t we full of surprises lately.” He smiles back, warmly. He notices your hands trembling a bit from how anxious you are while you’re taking off your underwear with his help, and as he lowers himself to where you need him most, he takes your hands in his as an act of reassurance. “Tell me what you like. Tell me if what I’m doing works for you. I want this to be a great experience.”

“You want me to get addicted to you, that’s what you want,” He chuckles, lovingly kissing your thigh as a reply. “Okay, Gra. Guess I’ll find out along the way.”

You quickly take a peak below you to see the lower half of his face disappear in the middle of your thighs. The sight alone sets your fire ablaze, as he hooks his arms around your thighs and lifts you closer to his mouth, his lips ghosting over the curls between your legs tantalizingly and his breath catching when your hips jerk forward.

As he begins his ministrations, you immediately notice it’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt. That feeling was completely alien to you. It was even wetter than you expected, and weird, but powerfully pleasant. Before this exact moment, you had a firm belief that hardly anyone else would make you feel the same way, or better, than you do yourself, but apparently you were very wrong. Thankfully you were wrong. “My god,” you gasp as the flat of his tongue drags over your folds, too much and not enough, and you jerk at the contact. “This is great. So weird, but-- great.”

He moans at your response, his movements carefully enthusiastic. He works his tongue between your folds and traces up to curl the tip of it around your clit, and it’s quite endearing and madly arousing to see how he eats out you like you’re the sweetest and tastier dessert he has ever tasted. You involuntarily buck against him with a desperate sound the moment he moves his tongue and lips in a particularly wicked way, something that definitely doesn’t go unnoticed by him, but you still feel the need to highlight in case it didn’t - “That. Keep doing that, please,”

And he does. The building of this climax is also different than the ones you already had by your own hands, and is more coy. As he sees the drops of sweat sliding along your soft skin and the expressions on your face as you get lost in this new but enchanting sensations, his hesitation and self-control fades away; there’s nothing uncertain in the way he buries his face in your cunt now, nothing restrained in the groan he lets out as he devours you and drinks you down as if you’re the first stream of water he has seen in days.

His tongue glides deeper in your folds again and again, swirling up through the wetness you’re coated with to tease at your clit while he grunts and strains closer, squeezing your thighs with both hands tight. The wave of heat inside of you is cresting so fast, you don't even know how to tell him, how to signal that you’re nearly done for and, in the end, it happens too fast to even try. He sucks at your clit, circling it with his tongue, once, twice, and then you’re crying out, shaking underneath him, trying to keep your thighs from clenching too hard around his head as he laps you through it with with urgent whimpers and moans, as if he cannot have enough of you.

You’re still trembling when he rises, the look on his face revealing to you how proud he feels by making you feel this way. It looks so good on him.

You fail miserably at the simple task of connecting words together after that, choosing instead to collect your remaining strength, prop yourself up and beckon him again to keep kissing him and learn, through his talented tongue, how you taste. He kisses the thin fabric of the shirt at your chest that covers you from view, your throat, your jaw, and before he reaches your impatient lips, he notes, sinfully, “Seems like you enjoyed yourself, love.”

“That was… unbelievable. Stars, I want to make you feel good too. Please show me how.”

“Keep kissing me,” he begs, voice still strained from how aroused he is. “I want to be inside you so bad. Let’s get you prepared.” You’re still so sensitive, you tread on overstimulation when his fingers lightly touch your clit, making you break the kiss in a hiss. He traces a line on your folds, inspecting the impact his mouth had on you. “So wet for me.”

“Bit slower, Gra,” He complies to your breathy plea, his fingers now more tame as he slowly spreads your wetness throughout your pussy. He stretches towards the nightstand to grab a bottle of lube, interrupting his contact to spread some on his fingers before unhurriedly slipping his middle finger inside of you. The coldness of the gel makes you shiver in surprise, the easiness brought by it very welcomed. Again - the sensation is odd. Completely unfamiliar. The feeling of having something inside of you for the first time, going further than you ever dared to try, probing, exploring; the coldness of the lube clashing against your burning hot cunt. But it also felt nice. The focused look on his face was adorable, he looked like he was a scientist in the middle of very complex research.

Despite the panting, the messy hair and the fire in his eyes.

Your body already has a lot of new sensations to process simultaneously, so when he asks you to take off your bra and shirt so his tongue can work on your nipples - which you gladly accept, you feel like you’re on sensual overload. His tongue, again, so talented, takes your mind off the slight burning you feel when he introduces his ring finger to your soaked, throbbing core, his focused, carefully overpowering and constant stimulation driving you insane.

“Does it feel good?” He asks, voice muffled by your breast. You nod, carried by the wave of pleasure sweeping you.

“Yes. God, yes.” You pant, tangling your fingers tightly on his thick hair as an encouragement, a desperate sound escaping from your lips the moment he reaches a certain point within you you didn’t even know existed, hot mouth continuing to lick and suck your nipple. Even though you were spent by your last orgasm, he was indeed getting you addicted to those new feelings, and even though this was heavenly, truly heavenly, you needed more. “Gra, I’m ready, I think.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. Please.”

Releasing your nipple from his lips with a sounding pop, he eagerly frees himself from his trousers - hard as a brick - and puts protection and lubrication on, swiftly positioning himself between your thighs while stroking himself to the sight in front of him. You motion to take off your skirt, and he holds your hand, not letting you. “Don’t. It’ll be really hot to fuck you in this.” He confesses, giving your forehead a kiss in a very different context than before. He aligns his forehead with yours, each of your lips just barely touching while you breathe each other’s air. He looks deep into your eyes, slowly running the tip of his cock between the slick folds of your pussy, coating himself in the remnants of your pleasure. “Do you trust me?”

You trust me to know your limits? Not to go any further if you don’t really want me to?

“Absolutely.”

The only response you get from him is a shuddering, helpless moan into your mouth and you hold him tighter to you, grinding your still sensitive cunt up against his cock while he pulls hard at the soft fur next to your head. You feel your soaking pussy lips part around the solid curve of his length and gradually coat the underside of him in slick with every gentle circle and roll your hips make, as he finally pulls away from your mouth to drop his forehead to your neck. He then, very slowly, penetrates you, stopping when he hears the noises you make indicating you’re struggling to adjust to his presence. Out of everything you’ve felt in the last minutes, this was by far the most painful sensation. “This-- is new,” you note, your face completely incapable of hiding the discomfort. He also notices that.

“Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?”

“It’s okay. I’ll get used to it.”

“It’s not supposed to be about endurance, you know.” He says, a bit breathless and worried, caressing your hair. “Tell me when it’s okay to move. Or if you feel too much pain.”

After some long seconds and some deep breaths, you say: “Okay. Go on.”

“As you wish.”

He moves inside you at a very slow pace, the lubrication clearly making it easier for you to handle it. It still hurts, significantly, but the sensation of being filled is also surprisingly arousing.

His hand moves to your sensitive clit again in small, measured circles, your little moans being a mixture of the pain of penetration and the sheer ecstasy of seeing him falling apart because of you. The way his chest heaves while the drops of sweat start pearling his fair skin, the furrowed brows and broken groans, the thickness of him as he rests heavy up against your entrance, the way his voice presses deliciously tight in his throat as he gasps out into the quiet room - everything’s making your chest burst in love and satisfaction. You tighten your grip around him and roll your hips up into his cock, letting it break you open nice and slow; it stretches you wide with a deliciously sharp fullness and pleasure rips through you, and Graham becomes even more vocal as he picks up a steady and gradually faster pace. He turned all of your keys, it’s about time you turn some of his.

“Graham, deeper,” you whimper, continuing to tighten your legs and hoist yourself up, lifting your hips to take his cock deeper inside you. His name rips itself from your throat while Coxon clenches his jaw and starts to lose himself in the pleasure, holding you down into the bed while he allows your desperation to guide him to the perfect angle and speed to sate you. He found denying you to be impossible.

He snarls and curses as he holds you down and rails you, determined to make you sing again before he finishes, and to his delight, your heightened sensitivity gives him what he wants. And this time, he couldn't hold on.

Graham kisses you one last time as he groans and gives in, head dropping to your neck again. You didn’t reach a second climax, but stars, what an experience you just had.

When he comes back to himself enough to realise he still had you practically folded in half, he carefully pulls his softening cock free, taking the condom off and taking the strands of hair out of your face as you struggle to catch your breath. You suggest a shared bath, a suggestion he gladly accepts.

Too tired and too sore for pillow talk, comfortable silence falls as your hand finds his, and you lay, listening to each other’s breathing slowly settle.

I could get used to his little snore on my chest, is the last thought that twinkles on your mind before you fall asleep snuggled with him.

#graham coxon #alex james #damon albarn #dave rowntree #blur #britpop #smut #imagine #reader insert #graham coxon x reader #graham x reader #y/n #fluff #au #fanfiction #blur band

[kyodzuken]

domestic headcanons - death the kid

aka; you move in with kid and he’s kinda ooc but also cute so let me have my fun.

- moving in with kid was literally one of the most stressful and yet rewarding parts of your life. lots of boxes falling down the stairs as you and death the kid run hastily to try and salvage your belongings, only to slip on the hardwood floors and fall on your ass.

- he wanted (needed) absolutely everything in your house to be symmetrical, and that was expected, so you left most - if not all - of the decorating to him.

- a lot of compromises,, which eventually turned to kid slowly changing everything into how he liked it

- and you didnt complain, because seeing the soft blush on his face, and a small content smile as he stared at your first house together, that was enough.

- the first week you'd moved in, kid got sick, and you'd spent the entire week locked away in your house, taking care of your boyfriend.

- and the little shit wasn't making it any easier.

- you'd make him soup and he'd refuse to eat it unless you fed it to him

- 'babe! no! i'll get sick!!' you'd whine

- '(y/n), do i look like i care? now c'mere!' he'd state, the temper tantrum breaking through his usually cool and calm tone, as he made grabby hands from the bed, his nose red and his face pouty.

- and even if death the kid was sick, didn't mean he was quiet during your movie marathons - that week settling for twilight as you were sprawled out on the couch, trying your best to avoid the warm embrace of your (sick) boyfriend.

- 'oh my god, did he SERIOUSLY name their kid RENESMEE??'

- 'kid i- bAHAHAHHA'

- his antics were one of the many reasons you fell in love with him, and you genuinely did your best to take care of the reaper boy.

- sometimes when you'd be making some soup or dinner for him, he'd sneak up behind you, before locking his hands around your waist and laying his head on your shoulder, mumbling sweet nothings as he thanked you for taking care of him.

- in the mornings you'd get up to get ready and he'd grab onto your waist and pull you back into bed with him, as you struggled to escape his grasp.

- 'kid, you may be sick but i still have school...'

- '(y/n), in case you forgot, my dad is literally lord death. you can miss a week. and a day. eight days. perfect.'

- you wouldn't even argue with him about it either, because he was just that convincing.

- once y'all had settled in, he made it a mission to cuddle and watch movies every single night.

- 'kid i have homework-'

- '...that doesn't change anything.'

- cuddling with kid is great because he insists that both of you have equal amount of blanket and pillows; for the symmetry, of course.

- he's the type to let you lay on his chest, and he'd play with your hair while you watched so-bad-it's-good romcoms; sprawled out on the couch as he fed himself (and occasionally you) some skittles or popcorn, your eyes too fixated on the tv to notice his fleeting glances at your form.

- sometimes you'd watch a horror movie, just to have the boy jump into your arms during the scary bits.

- 'you can't blame me, (y/n)! pennywise jumped out of NOWHERE! how do you expect me to notice-’

- you two have found yourselves falling asleep on your living room couch one too many times ngl, and you aren't complaining bc falling asleep with kid is when you sleep the best!!

- sometimes you'd forget to fold the toilet paper in a triangle

- you never hear the end of that one

- but you genuinely try your best, and kid sees that, and his heart swells seeing you adjust a painting to be perfecting in line, or see you buy two towels instead of one, so they'd be perfectly symmetrical.

- ngl you've tried dying kid's hair a few times

- '(y/n) i'm literally a shinigami dont you think i've tried already-'

- 'babe, it's a bONDING EXPERIENCE.'

- 'i think we can bond in other ways dont you think-'

- 'no.'

- your parents knew you'd moved houses, and it took you a lil while to tell them it was because you and kid moved in together.

- but he'd met your parents before, and they loved him.

- you were on a call with your parents - facetime to be exact, walking around as you showed them your new house, a collection of 'oohs' and 'ahhs' erupting from your mobile phone.

- that was until kid accidentally (totally not accidentally) entered the room.

- '(y/n)!! what are you cooking for dinner tonight?? also please help me unpack these boxes it's been weeks! oh-OH!'

- and your parents were literally shook

- '(y/n)... is this the roommate you were talking about...'

- you were very scared at first because you thought they'd be mad,

- but no, they literally booked a flight to death city right then and there. like literally on facetime your dad just booked a ticket

- 'mom- dad- no i-'

- yeah,,, needless to say, they're like your number one stans.

- dates are always perfectly planned

- so dinner dates and nights out are not very common.

- kid has to plan everything perfectly; he just loves you so much and would hate for you to experience anything less than perfection, and yet somehow SOMETHING goes wrong.

- like a dog will run past and splash water on your dress

- or he'll get salmonella in the middle of the date from last night's chicken (that HE COOKED LORDD)

- and you'll have to reassure him it's fine and you had a great time, as the boy nearly breaks down in the expensive restaurant he had to pull strings to get into.

- and you wouldn't have it any other way.

- the gang has come uninvited one too many times

- once you two were making out, his hands running through your hair as you shared fleeting kisses in your bedroom, until you heard the (very) familiar

- 'hELLOOO! IT'S ME, BLACK STAR! LITERALLY THE GREATEST AND BIGGEST STAR EVER I-'

- and you emerged from your shared bedroom like-

- 'PLEASE... what do you want'

- and he didn't answer your question, obv

- and your hair was all messy and some not well hidden hickies were on your neck like

- chile erm... what the hell we gon' do now...

- 'yeah sorry guys i was doing something-'

- 'is *he* something?????' soul asked, snickering whilst pointing to a certain monochromed hair boy behind you.

- who was frantically trying to fix his hair.

- you've also kicked them out one too many times.

- grocery shopping dates are always fun and unpredictable, for kid would have a whole list of what to buy and what quantity, and you'd just be running around like a little kid - eyes glistening at the wide array of candy that stocked the shelves

- '(y/n)- no, you can't ride in the cart i- goddammit.'

- mornings are a whole other story though.

- soft kisses shared as you're entangled in his embrace, the sun seeping through your blinds as you play with soft strands of black and white hair, staring at the sleeping boy infront of you.

- moments like those, where you feel as though nothing in the world matters, they're when you truly realise how whipped  you are for kid, especially when he opens his eyes to mumble a soft

- 'good morning, (y/n).'

- before placing a fluttering kiss on your forehead, as he pulled you in closer.

- once you'd come home, exhausted and on the verge of tears.

- you'd gone out on a mission and your partner had gotten incredibly injured - you genuinely weren't sure if they were going to make it, despite the constant reassurance from stein.

- and kid noticed that, his eyes following your hunched over form as you walked into the bedroom exhausted, tears threatening to spill out any second.

- so he dragged you out of the house for a drive

- which was meant to be for maybe an hour,, so you could get your mind off of things

- but you ended up wandering into the city and just driving

- eventually it was six am

- and you just got home, and immediately fell asleep on the couch

- all in all, moving in with death the kid was one of the best decisions of your life.

- mwah i hope u enjoyed xoxo

#death the kid #death the kid x reader #death the kid headcanons #soul eater imagines

[bardicious]

Are YOU Loki's Father?

(Nice hot button titling right there)

So I stumbled upon a reddit post asking fans how they would rate Loki's father figures and I didn't like any of the options, tbh. (The options being Mobius, Laufey, Odin, and Homer...). No judgment on the OP, though, I'm sure we both just see the movies way too differently.

Anyway, not asking y'all to rate anything, not even asking you to pick any real interactions or basis in the movies or shows, but I thought I'd give several of my own headcanon-y/au ones as alternatives and ones I've genuinely liked reading or making for my own fic ideas.

So here's a list of some bizarre and unexpectedly chosen fathers for our dear Loki!

Thor (If it was kid!Loki, Loki reborn and Thor learns to be more compassionate. I can see Thor making up for many past wrongs while rearing this new Loki.)

Tony Stark (Also if kid!Loki, but I can totally see Tony becoming more parental - and he's a good dad - so if Loki ever let him, he's there. I've got an AU where Tony and Loki become friends first and then Loki dies, only for him to be reborn as a baby in Tony's arms. I love these two, okay.)

Phil Coulson (I just like this dude okay? He seems real nice, I didn't actually watch Agents of Shield but I once heard that if Phil and Loki got a chance to actually know each other they'd probably be friends, and thats hella dope. I see Phil as someone who also looks after others)

Clint Barton (This ones a kid!Loki scenario too, I genuinely think they could learn to care about each other if they were in a team setting and Clint knew how similar him and Loki are, Clint also strikes me as a pretty good dad.)

Heimdallr (This one's probably especially weird? Same way I see a scenario where they can be lovers, I see one where Heimdallr is generally protective of Loki - them being two odd people in Asgard, Loki who flies unseen by so many, is constantly watched and protected by Asgard's gatekeeper!)

Odin (Only good dad!Odin fics. Canon Odin is a piece of shit, though I believe Loki still loves him so he stays on the list. Hmph)

Laufey (Only good dad!Laufey here, this one assumes that Loki was stolen as a child and Laufey did indeed love him and wanted to keep him safe - seeing as how Loki was in a goddamn temple!!! when he was left - though I don't give Laufey much credit even in my own fics I delegate Loki's birth father to someone else.)

OC/Jormungandr (Not so long ago I decided to give Loki's birth story an even more convoluted touch. Since I headcanon Loki as Hela's child, I figured why not delegate his biological father's role to another of Loki's children's namesakes, Jormungandr. In my AUs, he's Laufey's twin brother - who's also a shape shifter! :D)

I've shared mine! Now feel free to share yours!! No matter how silly, and hell, it could even be you!

#The Adventures of Loki and the Other Ones

[roadtripzine]

Lucheek's Road Trip Journal (Page 1)

Gravity Falls: Road Trip is only $6 USD away from having raised a total of $400 for HOCHTX!!

Let's keep this convoy going- download the zine here and set your own donation amount! The zine's sale period will end on September 4th!

Before the sales period ends, I'll do some little journal pages like this for fun!

This was the first zine I ( @Lucheek ) have ever organized! I'll tell you a little bit about how the zine came to be in this first Journal Page, below the cut.

Highlight:

Even if you're not a contributor to this zine, I would love to see any work you create that takes the theme- the characters of Gravity Falls at locations around the world discovering the weird and wonderful.

...

If you create anything, feel free to tag me and I'll give it a look over and a reblog.

Inspired by @project-summerhome, another wonderful Gravity Falls fan work, I was thinking of ideas for a continuation of the series. (I enjoy fan-work!!)

The show itself had always reminded me of my experiences as a child, where in the summer my parents would take us on two week long road trips across the country and pack the entire trip with multiple stops a day at places akin the Mystery Shack. My family's tradition was while we were driving, we'd practice writing by writing journal entries in a shared notebook about what we did that day on vacation. (My mother is a teacher who was always eager to find ways to educate us, as well as a scrap-booker.) I'm so glad we did, because now I can look back at these journals and remember so much.

(My favorite journal entry is from my older brother during our trip to Roswell, New Mexico. My brother had a kind of... deadpan cynical X-Files flare going on. It's a hilarious read.)

I didn't want my hypothetical fan-work to seem too similar to the original premise, I wanted to shake things up enough to be distinct, because I wanted to honor that the story had ended, but keep the heart. Now, especially with the information from Journal 3's release- that the town Gravity Falls was a magnet for weirdness- it made the show even more rooted in it's locale. A traveling theme would help create a very distinct point of view, but stay connected in the weirdness, the kitsch, and the characters.

I planned a whole AU for "Road Trip"- with a villain, plot points, original side characters, and how the canon cast had aged. I put the idea on my twitter, and a friend linked me to the "Roadside America" website. It was hugely inspiring just to see what was out there.

However, I realized that it was all... very likely not something I would ever finish. (You may not know this if you don't follow my main account, but I have way too many projects already!) I was completely enamored with the concept though, now that I was seeing so many potential "weird" stories in the locales I found. I decided to make the zine as a way to sate my own apatite to tell stories of the characters beyond the Falls, and to inspire the creation of those stories in others. (My comic in the zine actually references plot points I had in the original complete AU!)

I also thought a for-charity fan-zine would be a good way to "practice" zine organization, something I'd be interested in doing before. As with many things, I rushed in, and put together the zine's logo and this blog just a few weeks after the original idea. I thought, since I was not a "big name" in the Gravity Falls fandom, it wouldn't get much attention. I was wrong! I was blown away by the response I got, and I continue to be blown away!!

Zine organization is tough, and I wouldn't have been able to get through this without the support of the contributors- who offered guidance and moral support every step of the way. Thank y'all so much. I had... quite the year of big stressful events in 2021, so having the forgiveness of my contributors was a huge relief.

Even if you're not a contributor to this zine, I would love to see any work you create that takes the theme- the characters of Gravity Falls at locations around the world discovering the weird and wonderful. I honestly am still so hyped for the potential this concept has. If you create anything, feel free to tag me and I'll give it a look over and a reblog.

(Have you heard of the Corn Palace? How about a Corn Palace made of Human Teeth?)

#gravity falls

[caffeine-and-melatonin]

✨Bad Batch E11 Spoilers✨

AAAAAAHHHHHHHH OMG OMG OMG OMG

Ok let's get into it y'all...welcome to my brain while watching E11

- OMG RYLOTH NOW???

-CROSS! 

-SYNDULLAS!!!!!!!!!!! WHERE IS MOM???? IS CHOP WITH HER???

-Clone without helmet?  Clone I don't know? What???? We haven't seen a reg without their helmet as far as I can remember...Why do I get the feeling this guy's chip isn't 100%? Why else would they show us his face/give him some personality. Wait that's the other thing! Mans still has his armor painted and everything unlike all the other regs (not counting the Coruscant guard). Plus based on his pauldron I'm guessing he's an ARC trooper and they were more independent and creative thinkers than most of the regs........oh no Mr. Cowboy Hat Man is gonna kill him isn't he :(

- CHOPPER!!!!!! MY FAVORITE WAR CRIMINAL!!!!

- BABY HERA BABY HERA BABY HERA!!!! MOM YOU ARE SO SMALL RN AWWW I LOVE YOU

- My god there are no words to describe how happy I am to see Hera

- Ohhhhh his name is Howzer! Have we seen him before? I don't think so...I didn't forget a clone did I?!?!?!?!?!?!

-Not gonna report it? Yeah his chip isn't fully working is it. He seems nice pls don't murder him Dave. I know you will, but like don't. 

- I get what Cham is saying, but like Gobi sounds more like Cham than Cham does

- AGH CROSS YOU'RE BALD! AGH CROSS I CAN SEE YOUR CRISPY BRAINS! SIR! LIKE THERE IS A LITERAL ✨C H U N K✨ MISSING FROM YOUR SKULL!

-WAIT A SECOND!!!!!!!!! HIS BRAINS BE BURNT ON THE CHIP SIDE!!! DOES THAT MEAN??? SOON??? (if someone has an extra clown wig and red nose hand it over i have a feeling imma need it) 

- I seriously don't think there has ever been a moment when I was even remotely ok with Orn Free Taa

- Hera's mom is an absolute QUEEN! I love her already...oh no I'm getting attached I can't do that oh no stop it I can't deal with more sad

- BABY HERA FLY SHIP! Look at her go!!! Yay Mom!!!

-OMG IS HERA GONNA MEET OMEGA???

-AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH HERA AND OMEGA ARE BESTIES!!!

-Awwwww Tech's been teaching Omega about the ship! Wait does that mean he has someone who will sit and listen to him because he just wants to share his knowledge??? AWWWWW THAT'S SO SOFT I LOVE IT!!!!! I really wish they would have shown us that. Like yeah there have been some short Tech teaching Omega moments, but nothing substantial. Seriously if they showed us Tech getting all happy and excited that someone actually wanted to learn from him I think I would simply pass away from pure joy. I just want some character development and happiness for my love is that too much to ask for? 

- Hera talking about flying is so cute! Omg and Omega being so proud of her room!!!

-Lol like 0.5 sec into hearing that Omega and the Bois™ get shot at regularly, Hera's like "Are you in trouble? I will adopt you right now" (and then Omega pulled the Uno Reverse card on her and was like "sis we are literally the ones bringing you weapons"). Glad to know Hera has always been the mom friend. 

-"Did you know flying is about a feeling?" "wHaT fEeLiNg?" My dear Tech, I adore your vocal inflections so much......oh stars.....I'm freaking out over crumbs......my apologies  

- CROSS SWEETIE PLEASE STOP SHOOTING AT PEOPLE! SPECIFICALLY CHILDREN! BRO I KNOW YA CAN'T HELP IT BUT EEK MAN! 

- Ok kind of a weird statement, but am I the only one that used to get really excited when a LAAT would show up? I used to be all like "My BOYS! 🥰" and now it's more of "My BOYS! 😥". Ya know what I mean? My poor clones...I miss them.

- Oh yeah I'm 100% calling it, Howzer's chip isn't doing the thing.

- Hera's mom could run me over with a blurrg and you know what that's on me. I got in her way. I'm so sorry.

- DAMN CROSS RIGHT TO THE NOGGIN JEEZ!

- Aww Howzer really cares about Hera and her parents. This is gonna hurt like a bitch isn't it 😒

FINAL THOUGHTS

- Idk what I was expecting from this episode, but it certainly wasn’t seeing Ryloth this soon.

- MOM!!! Agh I love Hera so much

-Howzer’s pretty. Good for him. 

- So like for our clown outfits, is there color scheme or dress code or something? Because I'm really hoping that seeing Cross' ✨melted marbles✨ on the right side of his head means the chip got damaged and it's gonna stop working soon...right?

- I know both of them were only around the batch for a few minutes, but do you think Kanan and Hera ever had a moment were they were telling stories about their past and somehow connected the dots that they both knew them kinda? Idk probably not but it's fun to think about.

-So here's the thing (to finally wrap up my rambling), they were soooo close to Cross. Like I know the batch is going to have to go back to bring them more weapons, but they were sooooo close. I get it that they wouldn't have known he was there and it was interesting to see what is going on in the galaxy outside of the squad, especially with Ryloth's history of being constantly under occupation and seeing how they are dealing with the shift from the Republic to the Empire, but I need them to TALK ABOUT HIM! Like let's at least start there. Where's the energy from E3 about not leaving Cross behind? I know that getting him back is going to be really hard, really complicated, and really dangerous and that's why they haven't got him back yet, but at least try to come up with a plan. Start there boys. Please. I love you all so much. I really do. But could you just TALK TO EACH OTHER BECAUSE I KNOW IT'S BOTHERING YOU INSIDE BUT YA NEED TO BRING THOSE FEELINGS TO THE OUTSIDE!!! Ok thanks xxx

Yeah I think that's all I got for today's episode. Good night? Good morning? Whatever y'all know what I mean 😘 

#the bad batch #the bad batch spoilers #bad batch #tbb #tbb spoilers

[xpao-bearx]

Part 1 HERE

NOTE: OMG I really wasn't expecting for the previous first part of Heavenly Sins to blow up as it did, but I just wanted to give a huuuge THANK YOU to all of you amazing folks!! 🥰🥰🥰 Your support truly means so fooken much to trashy ol' meh and y'all are the reason I am writing this story series in the first place :')

I do have my ideas, but I still don't know much yet of what to do or even how long (or short) this story will get. So, if you would continue to give me your mindblowing support, it would seriously mean the W O R L D.

I do, however, very much enjoy writing Negan in particular so far. He's one of my absolute fave characters ever and JEFFREY DEAN FUCKIN' MORGAN NEED I SAY MOAR?!? 🥵💕💕

But this second part will be focusing a bit more on our beloved sheriff Ricky boi! Of course, Daryl will also get some much deserved love and attention tho I think he will appear in the story a lil later on.

Also, if you ever feel compelled, you are more than welcome to take some inspo from this story and make your own imagines and such! I'd love to see 'em, so please tag me 😁

P.S. There won't always be long ass notes like this, only if I wanna say something or bring up whatever is important. Also, if you wanna be tagged on any new/future story parts, then just tell moi and I will dedicate the latest one to the people who wanted to be tagged!

DEDICATED TO: The wonderful @buttercandy16 💖

"Heavenly Sins"

Part 2

After your little spiel, you haven't spoken to Negan since then. But on the way home after church, you passed by his house and found him tinkering away on his motorcycle (which you previously learned he interestingly named Lucille) in the garage. Not being able to help yourself, you paused in your tracks and just curiously watched him for a while.

His leather jacket was off, revealing a plain white t-shirt. The shirt was quite tight, and you noted how it perfectly hugged the taut muscles of his chest. Your eyes then slowly trailed to his toned arms, adorned by tattoos you wished you had a better look at. He stopped briefly, placing his tools down before grabbing the hem of his shirt and wiping the sweat on his forehead.

You didn't even think twice as your eyes dropped, hyperfocused on his abs. He wasn't the buffest guy out there, but he was lean and fit and--to put it bluntly--hot. A part of you screamed bloody murder to get a grip on yourself, to just turn your stiff body around and proceed on home. But another part completely squashed down those protests without even a fight; as if your pathetic excuse of a resolve wasn't even meant in the first place.

"Take a goddamn picture, darlin'. It'll last longer."

Your head snapped up, meeting the tantalizing hazel stare of Negan. His lips were curled in a smug smirk, and nevermore in your entire life have you wanted to both slap and kiss someone so badly.

But you only clicked your tongue, shooting him a sharp glare before (at last!) turning and walking away as you hid your blush. In the distance, his amused chuckle begrudgingly sounded like the sweetest fucking music to your ears.

♡♡♡

You woke up at 7:05 a.m. like you typically did the next morning, Monday. It was the dawn of a new week, and while most people dreaded it you actually didn't mind it so much. You had your job to thank for that.

Sure, it wasn't always easy, but it was worth it in the end. You loved teaching and spending time with the children, and you were even more ecstatic since you knew Judith was going to be at the daycare.

As you finished eating breakfast and preparing for the day, you grabbed your bag then went out the door. You opted to walk again today, the weather far too beautiful to miss plus the daycare really wasn't that far away.

Eventually arriving at your destination, you approached the daycare building's doors with a little spring in your step. Once inside, a young woman with her blonde hair high in a ponytail smiled and waved.

"Hi, Y/N! Goodmorning!" Beth Greene greeted energetically.

"Morning, Beth." You chuckled, the girl's radiant smile infectious. You've known Beth for some time now, especially since the Greenes were one of the oldest families in Alexandria and they were well respected. But you got along best with Beth, you thought she was the friendliest and she was also the latest hire of the daycare.

Stashing your bag away in your personal locker, you fixed yourself up a bit before getting your nametag and sticking it on your top. Looking up at the wall clock, you read that it was 7:50 a.m. Perfect, just in time for the kids' drop-offs.

You waited outside with Beth and the rest of the daycare workers, until finally the parents started rolling in. It was the usual; some of the children were wailing, snot snivelling down their nose as their embarrassed parents tried to tug them away from clinging onto their legs. You could only offer a sympathetic smile as you tried to help, while other children were much more relaxed and didn't even spare a second glance at their parents as they were dropped off.

"Well, that's about all of them." Beth piped up.

"Wait, we're still waiting for Judith." You said, searching for the toddler. "Rick said she'd be here."

Beth checked her watch, her brows creasing a little in worry. "That's odd. Sheriff Grimes is never late when he's dropping Judith off."

Just as she said that, there was a honk that disrupted the peace. You and Beth both spotted a crying Judith being held by Lori, the woman appearing utterly exhausted before her eyes locked with yours and didn't waste another second dashing towards you.

"Please don't run when you're holding Judith. Also, no honking is allowed on the premises." It was hard for you to keep the malice out of your voice, but you mentally gave yourself a pat on the back since you miraculously managed to not make it sound the worst it could get.

Lori raised a brow at you, but only handed Judith over to you. Judith immediately quieted down when she saw it was you, you cooing gently at her as she giggled and snuggled up comfortably against your chest.

"Rick will be picking her up later." Was all Lori said, pressing a quick peck on Judith's curly little head before parting ways. As Lori rushed back to the car, you saw Shane in the driver's seat shamelessly attack her neck with fervent kisses and you couldn't restrain an eyeroll.

"Fucking bitch..." You grumbled.

"Uh-oh. Bad!" Judith giggled again, clapping her hands gleefully.

"Right, right. Bad. Don't copy me, okay?" You laughed, completely forgetting about your aggravation as you rubbed your nose with Judith's and went inside.

♡♡♡

The rest of the day rolled along splendidly. No one threw a tantrum and for the most part, all the kids properly shared the wide assortment of toys and even did their activities orderly and on time. So, you decided to indulge them with a small yet much sought after reward.

Painting.

When it comes down to children, painting can be utter chaos. But you figured since they were being so good, you'd allow it. At the daycare you worked in, painting was quite a rare occurrence and that only solidified how much the kids adored it.

Once the materials were set out, it was a dizzying flurry of excited hands grabbing anything it could latch on to. As the kids went about doing their creative business, you found Judith all alone sitting in the corner playing around with some blocks.

"Whatcha doin' there, Judi?" You asked, sweetly calling out her nickname. "You don't wanna paint?"

"I wanna, but not with papers." She replied, shaking her head.

"Oh? Then where do you wanna paint?"

"I wanna paint on faces, but no one wants me to!"

"If that's the case, then I'd be more than happy to let you paint my face." You smiled.

"Really?!" Judith's whole face lit up, jumping up and wrapping her tiny arms around you as tightly as she could. "Thank youuu!"

You chuckled, ruffling her hair and watching as she happily gathered some paint and brushes.

♡♡♡

It was finally the end of a long day, and your face felt a bit itchy from the paint Judith put on you. But it didn't matter; as long as the little girl was happy, it was the best damn day ever.

You were holding Judith's hand as you waited outside for Rick to pick her up, and once he came up with his car Judith beamed.

"Daddy!"

"Hello, sweetheart. Did you have a nice day?" His face looked tired, his greying beard making him appear slightly older than he really was, but his smile was genuine as he carried Judith in his strong arms.

"The bestest! Y/N lemme paint her face!"

"She did, huh? What did you pai--oh my god."

You bursted into laughter at his reaction, flashing him a toothy grin. "In the words of Judi: You're a pretty tiger! Grr!"

"Now that you mention it, I can see it." Rick joined in your laughter, nodding his head. "Looks like we've got a talented lil artist in our hands!"

"Daddy, I wanna paint your face next! You can be daddy tiger and Y/N can be mommy!" Judith proclaimed.

You and Rick flushed pink at the same exact time, but Rick was quick to clear his throat and change the topic. "A-Anyways, Y/N, how 'bout me and the kids give you a ride? Thank you for today, by the way."

"No problem, and sure! Thanks so much."

As you settled in the passenger's seat, two hands covered your eyes from behind. "Guess who~?"

"Hmm..." You hummed, making a show of thinking. "Are you an elf?"

"No!" The hands were removed, Carl popping his head out from the backseat to look at you as he laughed. "It's me!"

"Oh, sorry! You're just so short, I thought you were an elf." You teased good naturedly.

Carl huffed, sticking his tongue out at you. "Y'know, in a few years, I'll be way taller than you!"

Once Rick was done buckling Judith into her carseat, he took his place in the driver's seat and drove out of the premises. You just talked about anything that came to mind: work, the weather, Alexandria's local shops, etc. To anyone else, maybe it seemed like regular boring conversation. But speaking with Rick was truly one of the highlights of any of your days. He was extremely easy to talk to, and he never failed to cheer you up. And it was obvious Rick was the same. He was allowed to simply be himself around you; to loosen up, momentarily forget about the stress and sometimes even the woes that came along with being the town's upstanding sheriff.

As you were nearing your home, Carl decided to cut in.

"Y/N, can we stay at your house? It's been a while since we had a sleepover." Carl asked, his baby blue eyes identical to Rick's alight with hope.

It wouldn't be the first time Rick and the kids would be staying over. You were very close to the Grimes family, sometimes even almost considering them as your own. You didn't mind it. Since you lived alone, it can get pretty lonely. And having people around surely brightened up the house and made you keep your sanity.

"I don't mind, but you gotta ask your dad." You chuckled.

Carl turned to Rick, pouting and giving his best puppy dog eyes. Rick rolled his eyes, but couldn't suppress an inkling of a smile.

"Yeah, yeah. But let me drop you and Judith off with Y/N first. I'll be back, I just need to get some extra clothes and essentials."

"YAY!" Carl cheered, Judith following suit as they both raised their arms and hollered.

"You're so whipped for them." You laughed, shaking your head as you looked at Rick.

"I ain't denying that." He sighed dramatically, grinning.

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