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tkaulitzlvr · 7 months

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hii, hope you’re doing well :) love your stories <3

ofc you absolutely don’t have to write this one if you don’t want to!

just had a lil thought of some form of enemies to lovers with tom (2009-11) where reader travels with the band on tour & etc & one night while they stay at a hotel somewhere reader is in the pool at night (in like a bikini or some form of swimwear) for like a midnight swim but at some point tom gets in as-well & it’s just them (they can have some bickering or whatever) but it would eventually result in them doing it in the pool 🤭

again you don’t have to do this one if you don’t want to buy i just thought i would ask :)

ty for reading!!

LATE NIGHT - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: you and tom had never got on well, some unresolved tension meaning the two of you always clashed. so, when you decide to go for a late night swim alone, what will happen when tom has the exact same idea?

content: angst & smut

a/n: omggg this might be my fav request i’ve ever gotten so thank u sm anon, literally screamed when it came thru this whole scenario is so perfect, as u can imagine i enjoyed every second of writing this, hope u enjoy!!

the night is warm, this totally expected for august in southern spain, where tokio hotel were for this part of their world tour. adjusting to the different climates that i experience around the world is something i am yet to get used to, even after coming with the band since they had started accumulating the fans to warrant travelling from country to country to perform. one day, i would be in somewhere in russia, completely submerged in blankets and still cold, then the next, i would be met with the sweltering warmth of southern europe, overheating despite my clear lack of clothing, only my bra and panties covering me. but tonight, the heat was unbearable, my body sweating no matter what position i tried to fall asleep in.

the rhythmic ticking of the small clock situated on the wall in front of me didn’t help - the sound seeming to get louder each time, the time that it displays reminding me that i should be sleeping. but, i know that it isn’t going to happen anytime soon, sitting up frustratedly with a loud sigh.

i stand up, walking toward the large glass doors leading to my balcony, pushing one open slightly so that i can squeeze through. it is even hotter outside, my body being hit by an intense surge of heat as i step onto the balcony, nearing the edge. my arms rest on the railing, eyes taking in the view in front of me - thousands of lights in each direction from the city ahead. however this doesn’t catch my attention as my eyes fall to the large pool below, a decent sized jacuzzi built into it. it is empty, the body of water completely still, small lights around it’s exterior giving away its tranquility. it could cool me down - there’s no way i’m falling asleep with my body this hot.

my feet turn on their heels, stepping back inside my room, closing the glass door behind me as i head to the small walk in closet in the corner. my hands fumble around, fingers finally touching the small bikini that i am looking for. i take it out, stripping from my clothes, before slipping on the skimpy red bikini, tying my hair in a loose bun. i take a towel from the bathroom, sliding on the first pair of sandals i see, before quietly exiting my hotel room and walking to the elevator, entering it as it is expectedly empty.

the elevator doors slide open as i am met with the empty lobby, the receptionist being the only person in sight. i give her a small nod, walking outside to the pool area. as i near closer, i sigh in relief, seeing that it is still empty, placing my towel on a random lounger. i slide my shoes off beside it, walking towards the pool. testing the temperature, i dip my toes in, shivering slightly at the coldness, the feeling relieving me as i already feel myself cool down. deciding that it is fine to get in, i allow my whole body to slip into the water, my head staying above as i begin to swim over to the shallow end, finally stopping once i reach the edge.

my eyes glance over to the jacuzzi just a few metres away, contemplating whether it would be a better option than the pool. it would certainly make me sleepier, and, reminding myself of how late it is, i decide to get in, quickly stepping out of the pool and climbing into the jacuzzi. the water is much warmer, bubbles emerging from beneath as i take a seat, my entire body relaxing. i feel myself becoming tired as i spread out, laying my head backwards and resting it on the edge. my eyes gaze aimlessly at the stars above, feeling completely content, the water removing any tension in my body as i continue to watch the sky.

but, it only takes a few minutes for my head to whip upwards, becoming quickly alert as i hear footsteps nearing the pool, wondering who else would want to be here this late into the night.

i squint a little, trying to make out the silhouette , an audible groan escaping my lips once it enters the light, letting me work out who it is. broad shoulders, slim yet muscular frame, lips adorned with a single metal piercing - i could recognise him from anywhere. the familiar jet black braids move toward me, a confused expression taking over his face once he spots me.

“the fuck are you doing here?” he asks, setting his towel down and pulling his t-shirt off, revealing his perfectly formed abs, muscles in his biceps flexing as he does so. he was hot, but i hated him, his attractiveness only making me despise him more. after my gaze lingers on his torso for a couple seconds, i look upwards, seeing that he is still focused on me, waiting for a response as he walks towards the jacuzzi.

i roll my eyes, beginning to get up, not willing to engage in any conversation with him right now, especially one in which no one else is involved, the atmosphere already tense.

“doesn’t matter. i’ll go.” i say, standing up, water dripping from my body. his eyes scan my figure, tongue poking from his lips slightly as he messes with his lip piercing, drinking in every curve, my boobs admittedly almost spilling out of my bikini top. yet i didn’t care when i had put it on, not expecting to see anyone else at the pool, let alone tom. his eyes still glued to my cleavage, i scoff, putting one foot out of the jacuzzi.

“my eyes are up here, perv.” i remark as he finally removes his gaze from my chest, a small laugh leaving his lips.

“don’t flatter yourself sweetheart.” he states, stepping into the jacuzzi, sitting down as the water covers most of his body, the top of his chest still on show. he stretches his arms out to the side of him, resting them on the edge, tilting his head to the side before continuing. “why are you leaving?”

“cause i know you’ll piss me off. you already are.” i respond, standing beside the water, preparing to walk away.

“really? don’t be so dramatic. get in.” he says, lifting one hand up and motioning to the empty space in the jacuzzi opposite him, his eyes not leaving mine.

“i’ll pass. have fun tom.” i say sarcastically, finding my towel on the lounger, wrapping it around my small frame, now shivering from the lack of warmth the water had brought me.

“you know, to say you’re the most stubborn person i know.” he starts, his tongue running across his bottom lip. “you’re leaving pretty fast. how come you’re letting me win so easily?”

i stop in my tracks, turning around to face him, wondering why he is so eager for me to stay.

“why do you care?” i question, my expression turning sour.

“i don’t.” he shrugs. “just don’t understand why you’re in a rush to leave. you’re not scared of me, are you?”

i scoff at his question, noting the way he is trying to get under my skin, and, much to my frustration, it is working. i know that if i leave, that means i have let him win. and, he is right. i am stubborn. it is this fact that prompts me to turn around, throwing the towel off of my body as i walk towards the jacuzzi, hesitantly getting back into it as a satisfied grin spreads across tom’s face.

“scared my ass.” i mutter, shaking my head as i fold my arms, irritated by his ability to anger me from the smallest of words.

“hm? sorry, didn’t catch that. you gotta speak up.” he taunts, tilting his head as he raises his eyebrows, a knowing smirk tugging on his lips. he stretches his arms out further as they rest against the stone decorating the edge of the water, adjusting his position and getting comfy, awaiting my response.

“just shut up. jesus fucking christ.” i scold, facing away from him, tempted to get up and leave once again. but i can’t give him that satisfaction, so i stay put, a tense silence between us as he surprisingly listens to me.

my body jolts upwards in shock, feeling his foot brush against mine from underneath the water as he sinks further into it. i make eye contact, scowling at him as he holds his hands up in defense.

“sorry.” he mumbles, his body slowly drifting closer towards mine. i ignore it, letting my head fall backwards, attempting to relax, figuring that if i am stuck here with him, i may as well try to make the experience as comfortable as it can be.

but the second his leg brushes against mine, with too much force to be unintentional, it is clear that his previous movement was definitely not an accident. i look at him, seeing that he has moved much closer, now to the left of me, instead of directly opposite me as he previously was. i stay quiet, trying to pay no attention to his presence despite the noticeable feeling of his eyes burning into my figure.

“red looks good on you.” he says into the silence, my eyebrows furrowing in disbelief, unable to fall for his attempt at complimenting me.

“what?” i ask, now turning to face him, his eyes dark.

“you know what i said.” he states confidently, gaze never leaving mine as his teeth momentarily sink into his bottom lip.

his body inches closer to mine as my own is frozen in place, unable to move or even comprehend what is happening. his finger grazes the knot of my costume from beneath the water, slipping underneath the material briefly before playing with the hem of my bikini bottoms, my hips jolting a little at his touch. he smirks at my reaction, removing his fingers and watching the way my face drops, partly in disappointment.

he sees the desperation in my eyes, dipping his head downwards so that his lips are just below my ear.

“you know you don’t hate me at much as you let out.” he whispers, his breath tickling my neck as i feel him smile against it, goosebumps beginning to form over the skin.

my mouth parts open, no sound escaping from it as my chest rises and falls at a faster pace, completely flustered by his words. he can clearly see this, humming lowly as his face remains inches away from my neck, his slow breathing fanning over it.

“in fact…” he begins, his lips brushing over the skin as he dips his head further downwards. “i don’t think you hate me at all, do you?”

i say nothing, breath hitching once his lips finally make contact with my neck, planting slow, open-mouthed kisses over it. my hands find the back of his head, fingers playing with his dreads as i push him further into me, his kisses become sloppy, his teeth grazing over the skin.

“knew you always had something for me, sweetheart.” he teases, hands grabbing the flesh of my thighs as he uses them to guide my body, placing me on his lap. my chest is now out of the water, lower half completely submerged as it sits on top of him, faces inches apart.

he takes my lack of response as an invitation to continue, attaching his lips to mine in a rough and sloppy kiss. i waste no time in kissing back, overcome with an unforeseen desperation, my hatred for him fuelling desire from within me that had never been ignited - not like this. but i used my anger towards him, keeping it as a motive to kiss him harder, pressing my lips harsher into his. he groans into my mouth, his hands finding my ass as he kneads the flesh, using it to push my hips against his, my lips faltering against him.

the heat around me from the warmth of the night is now nothing compared to the one spreading between my legs, my need for tom only growing as i begin to create my own slow rhythm on his lap, grinding so that his clothed dick, which i can feel hardening beneath me, hits my clit perfectly.

my head falls backwards, unable to kiss back as my hips continue to work against his. his lips find my chest, biting and sucking on the parts of my breasts exposed, my nipples hardening under the fabric of my bikini. he sees this, his fingers running over them as i shudder. his hands reach to undo the knot holding my bikini in place, about to tug on it before i protest.

“you can’t…” i breathe out, not slowing my movements. “someone could see.”

“but they won’t.” he states, keeping his head against my chest, hands staying on my back. “you just have to stay close to me, yeah?”

he tugs on the material, watching as the top half of my bikini falls off, revealing my chest to him. a smirk spreads across his face as he takes it all in, hands cupping my boobs as he squeezes them a little, a low whine falling from my lips in response.

“so fucking hot.” he breathes out, detaching his hands from my breasts, moving them to my back and pulling my chest so it is flush against his. “see? no one but me gets to see. exactly how it should be.”

he whispers the last part as i roll my eyes, becoming visibly impatient. he picks up on this, bucking his hips as i rest my hands on his chest, lifting myself off of him as he takes off his trunks, letting them rest at his knees, not bothering to remove them fully. he moves my panties to the side, the water rushing to my heat as i shudder a little.

he strokes himself a few times, positioning himself at my entrance. “you sure?”

his hands rest on my lower back, looking upwards at me, his expression strangely concerned, my consent mattering to him way more than i had first anticipated. i nod my head, letting out a confident ‘yes’.

that is enough for him as he slowly pushes inside of me, the water giving a foreign feeling as my thighs clench. he lets out a long groan, watching the way my mouth falls open, eyes screwing shut. i feel his tip bottom out inside of me, my walls stretched out further than they ever had been, none of the guys that i had been with being as big as tom. though the discomfort soon subsides, my face twisting in pressure as i nod slowly, giving him the green light as he begins to thrust upwards into me at a steady pace.

“where did the stubbornness go, hm?” he teases, knowing that my entire body is there for him to ruin, long past the point when i would argue with him. “thought i pissed you off, doesn’t look like it right now.”

i let out a loud moan, that the only sound i am able to make as he is hitting angles that have never been felt before, no one ever able to make me feel like this. hell, if i had known his dick was this good, i would’ve stopped hating him years ago. his tip brushes against my sensitive spot, my walls clenching around him as i squeeze my lips shut, trying to stay quiet as i silently remind myself of where we are - anyone able to catch us right now.

“you like that, huh?” he asks, repeatedly hitting the spot over and over as i bury my face into his shoulder, biting it roughly to keep the moans at bay, feeling them dangerously close in the back of my throat. “don’t hide those pretty moans, wanna hear them baby.”

his hands push me away from his shoulder, my head now upright as i can no longer contain my moans, letting them pour from my lips, tom nodding his head slowly.

desperate to reach my climax, i meet his thrusts, hips rotating in an attempt to increase the friction. this clearly has as much of an effect on tom as it does me, his head tilting backwards as he lets out a low groan.

“just like that baby. fuck- yeah, keep going.” he praises, this only fuelling my stamina, his thrusts becoming slow and weak as he lets me do most of the work.

the knot in my stomach tightens, so much that i know i cannot hold on any longer. tom’s hands squeeze my waist, fingers and nails digging in, the slight pain mixed with pleasure turning me on even more.

“getting close.” i manage to say, bringing my lips to messily collide with his, my movements sloppy and uneven. he kisses back, groaning into my mouth as he slips his tongue in. he starts thrusting upwards at a rapid pace, my ability to kiss back faltering as i feel him twitch inside of me.

“me too. cum with me, yeah?” he says against my lips, one harsh thrust into me all it takes for me to come undone, feeling him shoot his load into me. he moves in and out slowly, fucking it into me, his teeth firmly sinking into his lip as his eyebrows knit together. i collapse into his chest, breathing fast and shallow as my entire body shakes, his thrusts coming to a stop, yet he remains inside of me. his lips lazily kiss my shoulder, hands rubbing my back.

“why didn’t we do that sooner, hm?”

requests are open! please keep sending them in!!

#tom kaulitz #kaulitz #kaulitz twins #tokiohotel #tom kaulitz x reader #tomkaulitz #tom kaulitz angst #bill kaulitz #tom kaulitz smut #tom kaulitz fluff

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zvaigzdelasas · 4 months

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[BBC is UK State Media]

More than 1,400 Finnish music industry professionals have signed a petition urging a ban on Israel from Eurovision over alleged "war crimes" in Gaza.

If Israel is not excluded from the competition, they want public broadcaster Yle to withdraw Finland's entry from the competition.[...]

Last month, Icelandic musicians made similar demands to broadcaster Rúv.[...]

They accuse Yle of double standards, saying the broadcaster was among the first to demand a ban on Russia from the 2022 contest, "and we expect the same active defending of values from Yle now as well".

A day after Russia launched its full-scale invasion of Ukraine in 2022, Yle representative Ville Vilén said Moscow's attack was "contrary to all the values that Yle and other European broadcasters represent".

The EBU [European Broadcasting Union, the organiser of the contest] soon after banned Russia from participating.

Mr Vilén said the situation in Israel and Gaza was "not quite the same".

"As gruesome as it is, it is not a war of inter-state aggression like between Russia and Ukraine," he told Finnish tabloid Ilta-Sanomat last month.[...]

In December the EBU released a statement saying that Eurovision was "for broadcasters - not for governments" and Israel had taken part for 50 years.

It said member organisations had agreed that Israel's public broadcaster Kan "complies with all competition rules" and insisted the contest was a "non-political event".

10 Jan 24

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jadiealissia · 22 days

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Worldbuilding Countries (Part 1)

I've lived in and visited a few countries in my life, which gave me a lot of inspiration for my fantasy novel. I'm not an expert, but I thought I'd share what I learned!

Climate

The climate will most likely come up at some point. Do you mention the cool breeze, or the orange leaves on the trees? All those nice weather descriptions will depend on the climate!

If you have a couple of different countries, it may be a little weird if they all have the same climate (especially if they are far away from each other), so there's a few things you can consider to make them a bit more specific.

Climate is of course a very complicated topic, so I will simplify it a bit.

Temperature

I like to pick a real country/city and look at its temperature graphs on Wikipedia. One important thing to note is that countries aren't simply colder/warmer than one another. I know a lot of people think that a country like Russia is cold all year round, but it is actually quite warm in summer. Some areas have a larger variation between temperature throughout the year than others (normally, the closer to the equator a country is, the less variation there is. They also tend to be warmer).

Look at Singapore:

The temperatures are basically stable all year round (the letters up top are the months). The numbers are the average minimum and maximum daily temperatures. You can see that on average the variation every day is less than 10°C.

Here is Moscow:

The temperature changes quite a lot throughout the year. Note that the maximum temperatures (summer) will occur at the opposite times of the year in the Southern Hemisphere.

You can see this demonstrated in Copiapo (Chile):

This city is in the Southern hemisphere, so their coldest months are June and July :)

One thing you may have noticed is that the bars here are taller, which means that the variation for the daily min and max are higher too. Why is that? I'm simplifying it a bit, but generally, the dryer a place is, the more variation you will get in daily temperature. Which brings us to the next thing to consider:

Humidity/Precipitation

There are a few things to consider:

Rainfall. This can vary month-by-month, and due to some complicated factors, some countries have more rain in their colder months, some have more rain in their warmer months. Some places don't follow a neat pattern or stay consistent throughout the year. Have a look at climate pages on Wikipedia to get some ideas! Even just this page on Chile has a lot of cool examples. Each city is quite different!

Although of course the "wetness" of a country related to rainfall (e.g. you'd expect greener grass somewhere with more rainfall, brownish dry grass or a desert somewhere with less rainfall), it's not that simple. UK is a wet country, right? And if you've heard of Gold Coast (Australia) it seems pretty dry, right? Well, actually the Gold Coast gets twice as much precipitation (rain) as London!

To demonstrate, I took a screenshot (randomly selected street in each city) from Google Streetview.

Why this difference? I suspect it's because the Gold Coast is much hotter. Living in Australia, puddles are normally gone by the next day (often the rain even evaporates as it hits the ground!), but in UK, the puddles would always stay around for a while.

The UK is always mossy, often the clouds hang in the sky for ages. It can look quite grey. When it rains in the Gold Coast in summer, the raindrops evaporate as soon as they hit the pavement, which makes the air feel very humid and smell strongly of rain. You can use these sorts of sensory details in your stories :)

Also, one thing I noticed, is that in hotter weather, rain can be much more heavy than in colder weather. In Australia we often get heavy rain that causes flooding. In UK the rain usually dribbles all day but doesn't get heavy. In a place like the Gold Coast you can get rain that last 10 minutes but soaks you all the way through and floods the street.

The rainfall may also vary year-by-year. Australia goes through periods of floods and droughts that last a couple of years. The mechanism is a bit complicated so I won't go through it now, but it gives you something to google!

Humidity: Deserts have low humidity, which means that you can cool off more easily in the shade and the nights are colder. The breeze feels more refreshing at low humidity as your sweat evaporates.

High humidity (like Singapore) will feel much hotter at the same temperatures and it is normally still quite hot in the shade. High humidity feels really muggy, the air feels thick. The sweat doesn't evaporate as much, so you are left all wet and sticky. The breeze can feel much less refreshing because of this.

When the temperature is below freezing, the humidity gets very low, so your skin may need more moisturiser or your lips may crack.

Those are just some things to consider while describing your weather!

Generally, closer to the sea will be wetter, further inland is dryer. Have a look at some climate maps on Wikipedia, you will learn a lot! Climate is quite complicated since there are so many factors, so there's a lot you can do with it.

UV: This is one thing that people often forget about when they think about weather. In the UK, even on a very hot and sunny day, you are unlikely to get sunburnt (unless you are very pale). In Australia, you can get sunburnt very easily in even Tasmania, which is our coldest state, even when the temperatures are chilly.

You can't actually feel being sunburnt, which I fully understood when I visited Tasmania. I was freezing, but the whole time I was being sunburnt.

Normally, UV index is higher closer to the equator, which is why people who live closer to the equator tend to have darker skin. The melanin acts as protection against the sun. Still, this protection isn't perfect, so in the real world people in Africa used different methods to protect their skin, such as using clay as a "sunscreen".

Australia has the highest rate of skin cancer in the world. This is partially because most people in Australia have pale skin (originally from the UK), but the UV index is high.

This is something to consider in your story, since it can play a bigger role in behaviour than you'd expect if you live in a cold climate. In Australia, they recommend staying indoors between certain hours of the day to avoid sunburn, and if you do go out you should wear clothes that cover your skin, a wide-brimmed hat and sunscreen. Someone with very pale skin can get sunburnt in minutes. Wide-brimmed hats are compulsory at schools in Australia - you are not allowed to play if you forget your hat.

In low-UV areas, there is the opposite issue. People with darker skin can have problems getting vitamin D. Same goes for people who cover their skin with clothing (e.g. for religious reasons). However, this is a bit simpler to fix with some vitamin D supplements.

How do I use this for worldbuilding?

If you have a map of your countries, you may want to keep their location in mind when deciding on the climate :)

I like to draw up some graphs with the temperatures throughout the year for each country and some quick notes on the humidity, rainfall and UV.

You can also add some other elements to your story. Is it a fantasy? Maybe magic affects the weather! Sci-fi? You can play with the distance of the planet from the sun, axial tilt, sun size etc. (I won't go into that since it's a whole another topic and really complicated as well)

You probably don't need to know the exact details of the climate for most stories, but having a general idea will allow you to consistently describe what sorts of clothing your characters wear, the weather etc. Those are the sorts of things that comes up in almost every story (if it's long enough).

If you read this and found this useful, please reblog so I know that it was helpful. If it seems like people enjoyed this post, I will make more (I was going to talk about so much more, but this is already too long).

#writeblr #writeblr community #creative writing #world building #writing tips #writing resources #writing advice #how to write #fantasy #science fiction #climate #writing #novel writing #comic writing #worldbuilding #fantasy worldbuilding #fantasy world #writing community #writer stuff

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auteurdelabre · 4 months

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A Little Sun pt 1 DieterBravo x f!Reader

rating: 18+ (future chapters)

Pairings: Dieter Bravo x f! Reader (no detailed physical descriptions, no use of y/n)

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. (plot prompt inspired by 'Daddy Dieter' by @absurdthirst on Ao3 - read their story, its really wonderful!)

warnings/tags: Unplanned Pregnancy, Surrogacy, Family Issues, Sweet!Dieter, Drugs, Alcohol, Getting Drunk, Boss/Employee Relationship,

a/n: I am actively tryin' to make everyone a Dieter Bravo stan. He is slept on in this fandom istg.

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Part 1: First Trimester

"With every newborn baby, a little sun rises." - Irmgard Erath

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Being actor Dieter Bravo's assistant comes with many boons. You get to hob-knob with celebrities, attend galas and parties, get to travel the world and you get paid decently. The downside?

You have to work for Dieter man-child Bravo.

He's an impossibly immature, inconsiderate man who's flakier than your mother's pie dough.

When he isn't being a walking hypocrite who won't eat processed foods but has no problem taking copious amounts of coke, he's making your life a living hell. He loves to party and experiment with whatever drug is in vogue. Too often you're scraping him off a club floor and dragging him home.

One memorable experience was flying by private jet over to Moscow to bring him home for the Academy Awards (which he fucking won because some people have all the luck) after he'd followed some hot Russian male model there and Dieter was convinced he was going to give up his citizenship and stay in Russia forever.

Your mother cannot stand him. She reads about his exploits in the tabloids. She thinks your job is a waste of your talents.

She's not wrong.

But this will all be worth it when you have enough to pay off the mortgage on your family home. As soon as you can your mother can stop working herself into an early grave pulling double shifts at the hospital.

You'll be able to move out into your own place and then you'll be able to finally go back to school and finish your Masters program. The one you had to quit so you could help support your mom after your father unexpectedly died.

You'd been lucky to land the gig with Bravo. Plucked from the group of giggling models who whispered how excited they were to have Dieter Bravo as their boss. You held your resume and reference letters tightly, your mind focused on the salary listed.

When you walked into the office to be interviewed with your long sleeves, high neckline and impressive resume his manager had been intrigued. When she asked what your favorite Dieter Bravo movie was and you had replied "Uh, I don't think I've seen many of his movies" she had given a wry smile and declared you a perfect fit for the job and hired you on the spot.

Dieter had been disappointed. You remember the way his eyes roved over your body in your frumpy clothes and your serious face. He had been looking for fun. You weren't fun.

You were a planner. You were someone who liked doing her job well. And your job was him. Getting him to set on time, organizing his appointments, dropping him with his publicist Diane so she could stop him from saying dumb shit to the tabloids when they cornered him and asked about his ex boyfriend or girlfriend.

You put up with a lot of his shit.

You also listen to a lot of the shit he says. The theories he has about the Hollywood elite, the creative outlets he wants to pursue, the scripts he has to read. You've learned to tune out his really stupid ideas.

The idea of fatherhood comes to Dieter after his latest relationship crashes and burns. In typical Bravo fashion it's a spur of the moment event. A decision with no forethought. He mentions it casually over breakfast as you run through his schedule for the day.

"I'm gonna be a dad."

"Oh yeah? Who's the lucky lady?" you reply drolly, bringing up his schedule on the tablet in your hand.

"Dunno. Haven't decided yet." He leans back in his chair, serene smile on his face.

You keep in the eye roll and go over what he's doing that day. He continues looking dreamily off into the distance, not paying attention.

You assume that this baby thing is similar to the goat therapy sanctuary: an amusing idea that strikes him as fun and that will exit as quickly and quietly as it arrived in his brain.

But a month later Dieter comes home in a foul mood slamming the door to his large home behind him.

"I thought you women wanted commitment!"

You look up from your desk. You've been busy all morning managing his socials. "Huh?"

"You remember my ex? Annika?"

"Yeah."

"We broke up because she wanted kids and I didn't," Dieter says throwing himself dramatically into the chair opposite you. "So I figure she's perfect for this! I went to see her and told her I wanted to settle down and have a baby."

"And what did she say?"

"To leave her dentist's office and never contact her again."

"Wait," you lower your phone. "You went to her dentist's office?"

"That's where her fiancé said she was and I couldn't wait!"

"Her fiancé told you that?"

"Yeah," Dieter groans, not seeing how it was inappropriate. "I'm getting older by the second. I don't wanna be too old to be a dad."

You hold in a sigh, seeing that he's beside himself. Dieter is a successful actor, this is true. But he's just as famous for his hard-partying and wild sex-capades. No woman in her right mind would willingly have a child with such a man.

"If you're that desperate to be a dad then adopt," you say trying to hold in your disdain. You don't think Dieter Bravo should be anywhere near anything to do with a child. And you know he won't be approved for adoption so there's no harm in suggesting it.

"No. I want to pass on my genes."

You give him a raised brow in return. The same genetics that give him his impossibly luscious hair and beautiful brown eyes are also responsible for his love for drugs and spontaneous decision making.

"What did your friend Becky do again?" Dieter asks sitting cross-legged in his chair. "The one who couldn't get pregnant with her husband?"

You're shocked he remembers this tidbit of your life at all. You kind of just assume he's not listening all that closely when you talk about a topic that doesn't directly involve him.

"Surrogacy. She paid someone else to carry her kid."

"Amazing," Dieter says slapping the desk in delight. "That's what I'll do! Obviously I want them to have all my hot characteristics. But I need the ying to my yang so the kid's balanced ya know?"

You don't mention that this is dangerously close to playing with eugenics. Instead you just nod, reading your work phone and then typing in more info onto the tablet.

This is a Bravo phase. It'll pass.

He gets like this about projects that initially interest him, but sooner or later he'll be pulled back into the lure of partying and drugs and easy men and women to warm his bed.

Dieter is watching you, studying you as you work. You've been his assistant for a year and you're good at what you do, despite your personality clashes. He drums his fingers on the desk, eyes narrowing on you.

"I need someone educated."

"Mhmmm." You're really only half listening at this point.

"Where did you go to school again?"

"Stanford."

Dieter nods, bringing a knee to his chest and balancing against it. He reminds you of a bored child.

"Right, that's what I thought," Dieter nods, watching you type quickly away on the keyboard.

You're very good at your job, very organized, very sharp. When he arrives at galas you're always there at his elbow to remind him of everyone's name in a whisper. You've never let him down.

You're good looking, even if you try to hide it under ugly clothes and hair you don't give a second thought to. He tilts back, trying to imagine you pregnant. Would your tits get bigger? The thought is very enticing.

"Cancer or heart disease run in your family?"

This draws your attention up from your phone which you now lower to the table and fix him with a dark look.

"If you're suggesting what I think you are, you can stop right there."

"Why?" Dieter asks, eyes wide and pleading. "Our baby would be perfect! My looks, your brains!"

"Or your brains and my looks," you scoff, although you don't think you're that bad looking. "Besides, I have no interest in having children."

Especially with you.

You've never understood the appeal of children, especially babies. But if you were to be fooled into thinking that it was a wise venture the last person on the face of the planet you would do so with would be the man seated across from you.

"I'll pay you!"

You lower the cell phone to the desk, trying not to come off too judgmental. He is your boss after all and you need the work.

"You really think you're ready for fatherhood, Dieter?"

He looks affronted. "Of course I am."

"You think doing coke, partying and jetting off to different sets to film all over the world is really the best thing for a child?"

"Lots of actors have kids and-"

"You think a man who relies on his staff to keep him fed and his house clean could really understand the responsibility that comes along with raising a child?" You scoff. "Have you ever even changed a diaper?"

"I wasn't born into this life," Dieter says between clenched teeth. "I know how to make a fucking bed and change a diaper. I've changed diapers before. Remember that Mister Mom reboot I did?"

You do all you can not to burst out laughing at that. He's talking about the "parent boot camp" he and his co-star on the film had to go through in order to play parents convincingly. It included a two-day workshop on diaper changing, bottle feeding and basic child development.

Apparently it had been a little too convincing because after that movie his female co-star had claimed to have no interest in having children ever.

"You think a man who has to have a full time personal assistant and two publicists just to keep his image decent Is the kind of person who should be bringing a child into the world?" You scoff. "You think-"

"I get it!" Dieter erupts, throwing himself from his chair. "You think I'm a piece of shit that should never have children! Thanks. Message received."

You watch him stalk off, a pit in your stomach.

///

Another month rolls by, one marked by strain on your end. Ever since you're heavy chat with Dieter he's been a little colder to you, a little more withdrawn.

At least once a week before his outburst Dieter would insist you stay for dinner to run lines with him. He doesn't do that anymore. Before your fight he'd order your favorite meal from the Pad Thai place nearby and you'd spend a few hours going through the lines with him.

You liked having a front row seat to the Dieter Bravo show because he's a good actor. He likes red wine when he's running lines. He always offers you a glass and you always decline because it's unprofessional to drink on the job.

On those evenings you find it easier to chat with Dieter about life. Those evenings you don't have to worry about getting him to interviews or fetching him coffee.

He asks you about your friends and family and you tell him surface level things. He doesn't know about your mom's long hours and a mortgage you can barely afford. He doesn't need to know.

You never realized how much you enjoyed those nights until they stopped

///

You're in his town car driving with him to a Vanity Fair interview the following month. One where they hook him up to a lie detector. You're very thankful that you're not his publicist on days like this because you can only imagine what they'll be asking him and what his answers will be.

Today will be spent grabbing him coffees and making sure he doesn't pass out in the green room. For his last BuzzFeed interview he'd been so out of it you'd had to pretend he had a dental emergency and cancel at the last second.

"Okay so after this then you're meeting that French director about the Regency piece," you tell him as you check his schedule. It's packed full of things he needs to accomplish.

"Mhmmm."

Dieter has his sunglasses on despite it being overcast today in LA. He's got his black crocs on underneath striped socks and he taps them gently as he stares out the window at the passing LA landscape.

"And then we need to go for your tux fitting for the-"

"I know you think it's a terrible idea," Dieter interrupts sullenly. "But I found someone to have my baby."

You pause what you were about to say, glancing over to him in interest. He's staring at you, sunglasses tipped down his nose so he can fix you with an intense stare.

"She's a model," he tells you like a petulant child. "Stunning. My child will be beautiful."

"Congratulations," you say after a beat. Dieter gives a scoff.

"That's all you have to say?"

"Do you want me to organize a flash mob?" You say with a curl of your lip. "I hope she signed an NDA."

"Of course she did," Dieter sneers. "And since I'm paying her $75,000 for it she won't say a damn thing."

"Well then, good luck," you say with as much enthusiasm as you can muster. "I hope you and your future child are very happy."

"We will be. I'm going to love that kid to death," he tells you ardently. "My kid is never going to go without."

You can see Dieter narrow his eyes before pushing his sunglasses back up the bridge of his nose. He leans back in his seat, looking sour.

Despite everything you feel a stab of regret go through you. There are plenty of worse people in the world that have children. Because yes, Dieter is immature and yes he has his vices, but you've seen him with his young fans. He's a natural, more at ease with them than the adults who try to get too close for photos.

"I'm genuinely happy for you," you tell him. "Your child will be very lucky to have a father that loves them so much."

It never takes much to thaw the ice from Dieter Bravo. He likes being liked too much. He flashes you his megawatt smile that you return before turning back to his schedule.

"Alright so, after the tux fitting..."

///

You give a sigh, shrugging off your jacket and padding to your kitchen later that evening. Your mom is there, sipping her nightly tea. She looks more tired than you, despite you working a fifteen hour day.

She gives your forehead a kiss, telling you there's leftovers waiting for you in the fridge before brushing the hair from your eyes.

"You're home late."

"Busy day," you yawn, grabbing dinner leftovers from the fridge and nuking them in the microwave. "He had a bunch of meetings, fittings, had to run through his script a few times."

You sit down with your dinner, taking a forkful and eating quickly. You're exhausted and tomorrow will be much of the same. It's always like this around award season.

"Shocked he didn't get you to read him a bedtime story too," your mother scowls. She's never hidden her disdain for Dieter.

You smile, thinking that if Dieter knew a bedtime story was an option he would probably take it. You know he hates being alone.

The ping from your phone draws your attention. You have an alert set to Dieter’s name, just in case you and Diane need to work overtime on a Bravo-related catastrophe. But when you click on the link it goes to a Reddit thread from the Dieter Bravo subreddit. You glance and see its just one of the run-of-the-mill tabloid photos.

Every so often you're caught in them, listed as "Bravo employee". The first time it had happened you'd been mortified by the unflattering photo of you reading out Dieters schedule as he smoked a cigarette, looking off into the distance.

In these photos today much like the others you're on your phone mid-sentence. Dieter is smiling at you, hand holding his coffee by the top. It's fairly innocuous as far as photos go but the comments are anything but.

Do u think he's hooking up with his PA? Look at these photos.

It's called a job people! She has to be with him all the time.

He looks so fucking hot

Gross no.

I think he's hooking up with Luke Evans??

I will now be identifying as a coffee cup

She's literally looking at her phone. How is this anything?

It's giving secret romance look at their body language

Omg his hands are so big.

I bet he's crazy in bed.

They've totally hooked up

He's so into her look at how he's looking at her!

You roll your eyes and try not to laugh out loud. Your mother glances over at you and shakes her head.

"When are you going to quit working for that loser and go back to school?"

Your mom doesn't really understand why you quit school. She would feel like a burden if she did. But every month you pay off more and more of her mortgage, the better and freer you feel. It’ll be a few years more, but you can manage.

"Soon," you tell your mother with a small smile. “Soon.”

///

"Fuck I hate these things," Dieter says in the back of a limo a few weeks later. You're all headed to a film and theatre awards show.

"Since when?"

"Since I have to present an award and I'm sober."

“You are?”

This surprises you. Rarely has Dieter Bravo ever been sober during awards season. Even the year he won his Oscar he'd been flying high before his name was even engraved on the statuette.

You go to grab your second phone, wanting to check something about scheduling when you realize your purse is back at Dieters. Fuck. You'll have to stop there on your way back tonight.

"You look nice," he tells you offhandedly as he tugs at his bow tie. He usually sees you in jeans and a t-shirt. Tonight your hair is sleek, your makeup glamorous and your dress feminine and lacy.

"Yeah well I heard Robert Pattinson will be there tonight," you say with a small smile. "Gonna shoot my shot."

Dieter rolls his eyes dramatically at this before his publicist Diane draws his attention to some talking points.

"You need to return the watch before you hit up the after parties," she says, motioning to his wrist where he wears a diamond encrusted timepiece from Cartier.

"Aye aye captain."

When the limo pulls up to the red carpet surrounded on both sides by groups of screaming fans you see Dieter swallow.

He loves a lot about acting, but this? The rabid fans, the constant screaming of his name? It stresses him out. He's told you this many times before.

Despite your irritation with Dieter most days, there is a part of you that genuinely enjoys his company. He's creative and funny and blunt in a way that you appreciate.

"You've got this Bravo," you tell him, squeezing his hand reassuringly before pulling back. He smiles at you, slipping on his sunglasses and taking a deep breath.

You and Diane exit out the left side doors as Dieter exits out the right onto the red carpet. Screams at ear -splitting volumes begin the second his boot hits the carpet.

"I LOVE YOU DIETER!'

"OMG ITS HIM!"

"He's so hot!"

"Do you think he's gonna do something weird?"

"DIETER SIGN MY BOOBS!"

Dieter waves and smiles, ignoring the more bizarre requests. His publicist warned him if he is serious about having a kid he needs to work on his image. You wonder how long this will last.

"Dieter Bravo have my baby!" One woman of about fifty shouts holding a hand towards him in desperation. Dieter waves at her and she looks as if she might faint.

"There you go," you whisper to his back as he moves to the next photographer. "If the model doesn't work out at least you have options."

He smirks at you before going to pose for the litany of flash bulbs and photographers.

Inside the auditorium you and Diane guide Dieter behind the stage. He's paired up to present with an up and coming actress who makes moon eyes up at him. Her name is Mia Rowe and she's as gorgeous in real life as she is talented.

"Hi Mr. Bravo," she says batting her eyes up at him.

"Hi beautiful," Dieter purrs. You hold in an eye roll, sure to take note of this woman. Odds are you'll be calling her a cab from Dieter's place later this evening.

"Bravo! I was hoping you'd be here!"

A tall blonde man with perfect teeth walks over, dressed in a form fitting tux. It makes Dieters bright pink checkered tux look cartoonish, but that's kinda what you liked about it.

Corey Brigham, the UK's answer to what would happen if you created the most handsome yet unlike-able person on the planet. He and Dieter go way back, both big in the party and drug scene.

"Was hoping you'd be here," Corey says with a wink, tapping his breast pocket. "I was just heading to the bathroom if you'd care to join."

"I'm not uh, doing that tonight," Dieter says to his friend. "Just sticking to booze."

You overhear this, surprised. You wonder if this is to do with his desire for fatherhood. If so you're a little impressed. Mia looks up at Dieter with a curious expression. As if she's impressed as well, or perhaps that she's surprised Dieter isn't what she expected.

The alcohol is flowing backstage and since you're a lightweight it takes very little to have you giggling behind your hand.

You never drink at these things, but once Dieter is done presenting your off for the night. You can enjoy yourself a little bit, especially when the booze is high end and free.

When Dieter presents the award with Mia you're very proud to see him sticking to his lines and being professional.

"Fuck, I have to go," Diane announces to you midway through the show, clutching her cellphone. "My kids in the hospital, the nanny just texted."

"Oh my gosh," your hand goes to hers. "Is everything okay?"

"He's had an allergic reaction," Diane says, her eyes wet. "I'm supposed to make sure Dieter returns the watch-"

"Go!" You insist, pushing her gently. "I'll make sure he returns it."

"I couldn't-"

"Go!"

Diane shoots you a grateful smile before tucking herself when you to her purse and making a mad dash for the exit. You watch from behind the curtain as the awards ceremony starts.

You decline further drinks after the midpoint, but you're still more than a little tipsy when you walk over to wrangle Dieter at the end of the show. He usually loves to hit up the after parties and you need to make sure he returns the Cartier watch before he goes.

You tap him on his broad shoulder, interrupting what seems to be a very intense (flirtatious) conversation with a redhead with the best pair of fake tits you've ever seen.

He turns irritated at first but his face quickly blooms into amusement as you stare up at him wavering slightly on your feet.

"Well, well, well," Dieter says smugly. "Miss Professional is drunk."

"I am not!" You insist, trying as hard as you can to keep the slur from your voice. "I'm just... I just had a little."

"You're slurring."

"Am not."

"Sure," Dieter laughs. "I bet you can't even walk in a straight line."

You immediately put one foot in front of the other, making a straight line from one side of the hallway floor to the other. You shoot him a victorious smile as he claps.

"My mistake," he drawls. "You’re obviously sober. I must have just overlooked that you always walk around with your eyes half open."

The redhead, irritated at being ignored gives a small sigh through her nose before bidding Dieter a sharp goodbye. You watch her walk off and grimace.

"Well you just cost me a date for the after party," Dieter laughs, slinging an arm around your shoulders and walking towards the entrance where photographers have gathered.

"Don't do that," you grumble. "Someone'll take a photo and get the wrong idea."

Dieter straightens immediately, but the amusement is still there in his features.

"So I guess you're gonna have to be my date," he teases, knowing full well how much you hate parties and that you'd never be invited in.

"Yeah right," you sneer. "I'd rather slide down a banister of razors into a pool of lemon juice."

"Guess I'll just have to find someone to keep me company then," Dieter says before winking at you. "I'll be at the Chateau Marmont if you change your mind."

He's out the door and in his limo before you remember why you needed to talk to him.

The fucking watch!

Cartier will have a fit if it's not returned this evening and Diane will be so disappointed in you on top of a very stressful night for her.

You have to run about three blocks in your heels to find a taxi to drive you. Traffic is majorly backed up thanks to the award ceremony and it takes you over an hour to get to Chateau Marmont.

At first the front desk won't let you past the entryway even when you tell them who you work for. You collapse onto a chair and try in vain to call Dieter. Not shockingly he doesn't pick up.

It's not until Mia Rowe arrives amidst screaming paparazzi and sees you near tears that she takes your hand and cites that you're with her. You thank her profusely and make a mental note to see every one of her movies in theaters for the rest of your life.

She's walks with you into the bustling party before releasing your hand and wishing you good luck. It doesn't take long to find Dieter in the crowd, you simply have to go to where there's the most noise.

He's in the middle of the group regaling them with one of his stories about the horrors of filming cliff beasts 5. He's got his arm around a young, very good looking Latin man you think is a singer. You watch as Dieter breaks off from what he was saying to kiss the young man thoroughly, tongues dueling as the music pulse around you.

Shit that's hot.

You don’t often see Dieter in the throes of passion but you’ve walked in on Dieter with his fair share of men and women waking up after a rowdy party or two. Seeing him here though with the club music like a heartbeat in your abdomen and his full mouth pressed to the handsome man’s makes you feel… something.

The two break apart and Dieter is about to say something more to the group when his eyes land on you.

"You made it!" Dieter slurs happily when you make your way towards him. "Take a shot!"

The crowd around him cheers as he produces a shot glass for you. Everyone is either coked out of their minds or massively drunk. It makes you jealous that your job has no glamour whatsoever.

"Here! Take a shot!" Dieter insists. "It's called the Bravo because uh... I forgot. But it’s good!"

You stumble over to him, not wanting to draw too much attention to the million dollar piece he's currently wearing on his wrist. Your mouth goes to his earlobe, lower lip catching the cool metal of his earring and the young man at his left shoots daggers at you.

"Dieter no, I need to return the-"

"The watch, I know," Dieter says with a smirk, his whisky tainted breath huffing along your cheeks. "I knew you'd have to come here to get it."

That asshole.

"You think I have nothing better to do than chase you all over this fucking city?" you shout, barely heard over the thrumming music.

Dieter just looks down at you amused and drunk. "Oh loosen up. I'll give you the watch."

"Good." You hold out your hand which he promptly places a shot glass into.

"As soon as you have a drink with me."

"I can't-"

You want to deny him this, to just get the watch and go to Cartier. But you're still tipsy and you're at a Hollywood after party and wait-

"Is that Robert Pattinson?" You croak pointing to a handsome figure entering the room. Dieter squints over before nodding and smiling crookedly.

"Twilight himself."

Holy shit.

"Okay," you say, smoothing your hair back. "One drink."

///

You're both absolutely obliterated by the time you head to Dieters limo and you're not sure who is worse.

You think you must be decently in control of your faculties because at least you remember to tell the limo to stop at Cartier where a very angry employee is waiting.

"So sorry," you slur at him as you pass him the watch in its box over the counter sheepishly. He makes you sign something before you clamor back into the limo next to Dieter who is drinking straight out of a whisky bottle.

He offers you the bottle and you take a sip. Just to be polite.

Then another sip to be extra polite.

"Robert Pattinson was so nice," you tell Dieter for the third time since you left the party. "And so handsome."

"He's not that handsome," Dieter says, sounding like he's underwater. "Where d'you live?"

"Over there," you say pointing in the general direction of your house. Dieter nods, telling the impossibly patient driver to go left.

"Wait my keys are at your house," you slur, eyes only half open. "How m'I gonna get in my house?"

"You need your keys," Dieter says loudly. "Less'go! My house!"

You're both barely able to walk when you come back to Dieter's place, dropped off by his limo. Like two chums you wrap your arms around each other's shoulders and trudge up his steps.

He drops his keys twice before opening the door with a groan.

"I hate wearing this stuff," he complains, pulling at the bow tie. You want to tell him that he looks nice but your mouth doesn't seem to be keeping up with your brain.

Dieter pulls off his bowtie, letting it drop to the floor. You do the same with your shoes, hating how they feel after hours on end.

"Want a drink?"

"Yes!"

"Me too!"

You both look at each other, waiting for the other person to pour the drink before collapsing into giggles. When you finally stop Dieter trips over to his bar and pours two shots of expensive vodka, spilling all over the bar top. You clink glasses and throw the shots back.

In habit Dieter turns the sprawling television on. The first thing that pops up is the discovery Channel and a documentary on giraffes. You both make a cooing sound when the camera pans to an unsteady baby giraffe just starting to walk.

"Awww I love baby animals," you say feeling oddly emotional at the tiny creature.

"I want one so bad," Dieter hiccups beside you.

"A giraffe?"

"No a baby-baby," Dieter pouts. "Want to give it everything I didn't have as a kid."

You've never really understood why Dieter wanted a baby until recently and in this moment you find his reasoning to be impossibly sweet.

"That's so nice!" You enthuse, finding it hard not to shout. The liquor is soaring through your veins. "You're so nice!"

Dieter smiles crookedly at you. "You think so?"

"Yeah!"

"Then why are you so mad at me all the time?" Dieter sways on his feet. "I'm so nice to you."

"You are not," you say plainly. "You're obnoxious. You do drugs so often you forget you have obligations. So then I have to babysit you so you don't get sued. You make my job stressful!"

"Oh."

Dieters head pitches forward and you can see that his eyes are closed. You've hurt him. That makes your drunken brain panic.

"But you're also really nice," you slur, gripping him by the forearm and shaking. "'Member you got me that really nice painting for my birthday?"

Dieter nods. The painting in question is of a beautiful woman overlooking the sea from behind, her stance filled with determination and her hair drifting in the breeze. It's as beautiful as it is vibrant and you'd been shocked when it arrived on your doorstep the morning of your birthday. Diane had mailed it, you recognized her handwriting.

Your mom had been amazed at it when you brought it in and opened it, citing that you needed to hang it somewhere you could look at it all day. So you had, hanging it on the wall opposite your bed. It's the first and last thing you look at every day. The woman in the portrait

"That was so nice!" You pause as your fuzzy brain tries to recall. "Did I ever thank you for that?"

"You gave me a thank you card and then told me to get ready for my BuzzFeed interview," Dieter shrugs, but that's your answer right there. He pours you both another shot of vodka which you both drink quickly.

"I have it hung up in my house," you tell him honestly. "It's in my room. I look at it every day. It's so beautiful. And nice of you!"

Nice is the only adjective that your addled brain can come up with tonight. Dieter smiles at you, a sweet little smile that has you smiling back at him. But then his handsome face crumples.

"If I'm so nice why does no one want to make a baby with me? Why do I have to pay that model?"

"I dunno," you answer honestly because right now in your drunken haze you don't really get why Dieter is single. He's handsome, rich and talented. Sure he likes cocaine and partying but there are worse things, surely!

"I know why," he says in a sad rasp. "S'cuz I'm unlovable."

"That's not true," you interject with a gasp before throwing your arms around his neck. "You're wonderful!"

You've never embraced Dieter before in all the time you've worked for him. The most you've ever done is gripped his hand in yours as you guided him through a bustling club to get to an interview he was late for or squeezed his hand like in the limo.

He's warm and he smells really good like expensive cologne. He'd dressed up well for the party tonight and you can't help but nuzzle your nose into his neck. You're both so drunk you lean against each other, not noticing when Dieter's nose glides along your neck as well.

"I think it's true," he whispers softly.

You feel impossibly sad for your boss because Dieter is so nice! The painting! You wish you'd been kinder to him. Wish you'd thanked him properly.

But wait, maybe you can?

"Dieter! I'll make a baby with you!"

You can hear Dieter's heartbeat pickup under your ear pressed against his chest.

"Really?" Dieter says, swaying. "That's what I was trying to ask before but you were so mad remember? You're always so mad at me!"

"I wasn't!" You reply sulkily, pulling back from him. You don't like being told that. You cross your arms, irritably.

"Yeah you get this lil' line between your brows when you get mad at me," Dieter says, clumsily pulling off his jacket and dropping it on the ground. "It's so cute and oh- yeah just like that!"

He's pointing at your frowning face.

"I wasn't mad," you insist, feeling the need to defend yourself. "I was just..."

You trail off as Dieter grabs you by the hips and pulls them to his. He looks down at you through his thick lashes.

"You're really pretty," he tells you through a whisky-laced hiccup. "I always thought so but I couldn't tell you."

"How come?"

"You're intimidating."

You giggle because you've never seen his face this close up and his mouth is so pouty. His eyelashes are so long you've never noticed.

"You're pretty too."

He kisses you then, his full mouth warm against yours. You kiss him back, making little whimpers when he licks into your welcome mouth.

"You kiss good!" You tell him in shock when you eventually pull back.

He smiles broadly, proud of himself. You can see the dimple in his cheek poke out. You decide that this is as good a time as any to get started. Your hands go to his belt.

"Let's make the baby now."

"Okay."

///

When you wake up the next morning hung-over and still dressed in Dieter Bravo's bed you don't automatically assume the worst. His arms are around you and he's snoring against your neck and if you weren't feeling so wretched you might have enjoyed how his warm body felt wrapped around yours.

It's not until you pad to the bathroom and begin to retch in his fancy toilet that you realize your panties are gone.

Having heard the noise Dieter stumbles into the bathroom, shocked to see his normally composed assistant kneeling over his porcelain toilet.

He leaves a few moments as you continue emptying your stomachs of its contents. When he returns he's holding two cups of what look like a disgusting green concoction. You take one from him, leaning against the counter.

"Do you remember anything?"

"Uh, I remember dropping the watch at Cartier," you say before dropping your mouth under the sink to swish some water into your dry mouth before spitting. "I remember we came here to get my keys I think? That's when it all gets blurry."

"Did we see giraffes?" Dieter asks, blinking through puffy eyes. "I feel like I remember giraffes."

You groan at your aching head before you remember your missing underwear. You glance to see Dieter is wearing his ratty green bathrobe cinched at the waist and from what you can see nothing underneath. His bulge is prominent under his bathrobe, you can't help but notice.

Dieter is staring at you, looking concerned.

"Last night... Did we?" He makes a circle with his thumb and pointer finger before making thrusting motions into it with his free forefinger.

"I...I don't remember," you croak, eyes blinking against the light streaming in from his bathroom window. You sip the green drink slowly, surprised that it doesn't taste as disgusting as it looks.

"Me neither."

"I need a Plan B just in case," you murmur, splashing cold water on your face. "You have a lot of guests stay the night... Any chance you have a box lying around?"

When he doesn't answer right away you glance over your shoulder to see Dieter has a funny look on his face. He's staring at you, blinking.

"What?"

"What if you are pregnant?" He asks quietly. "Would you consider keeping it?"

You laugh out loud. "Of course not!"

"Not even if I paid you?" Dieter asks, his voice hinting at desperation. "I'll pay you double - no, triple what I was going to pay the model surrogate."

You're about to loudly deny this request when you remember what he was offering that model: $75,000. Triple that is over $200,000. Yeah your life will be hell for nine months but then you'll be able to start a new one debt free. Your mom will be able to retire. You'll be able to go back to school.

And it's not like you ever wanted kids in the first place so you wouldn't even get attached. All that money for an inconvenience. A blip.

You can see the hunger in Dieter's eyes, the desperation, the deep need.

He does feel an aching need for this. Because drugs are awesome, making movies is fun, the money is amazing but with no one to share it with he feels lost. It feels pointless. He's fucked his way through the Hollywood elite: men and women alike. It's boring.

He tried making a real go of it with Annika but he'd fumbled it poorly and now she hated him and moved on. She was with her old co-worker and she was happy.

In truth Dieter is terrified that he cannot make another person happy. But a miniature version of himself? He could do that.

"Three hundred thousand," you say, not thinking he'll accept it.

"Deal."

Fuck why didn't I go higher?

Dieter sees you thinking, his mouth hitching into an excited grin. "So it's yes?"

"IF I agreed to the higher price point you'd be willing to honor the agreement if I got pregnant?" You venture. "The same one you were giving to that model? The one about covering all medical expenses and taking over sole custody and all that?"

"Yes."

"And I'd get the money when?"

"As soon as the baby is born. Just like the contract states."

"And the baby would never know I was its mother?"

"Never."

You pause, blinking rapidly. This all sounds too good to be true. And in all honesty, if Dieter takes this baby and forgets it on a park bench, that's none of your business or your responsibility. As far as you're concerned, this baby is a job. A very well-paying job.

"Okay fine," you say with a shaking breath. "I'll have your baby, Bravo."

///

You can't be pregnant from one night of drunken sex you both can't remember, right? Surely not. People try months if not years to get pregnant. Just look at Becky! Plus, you're not even sure you even had sex! Sure you'd woken up feeling a bit weird, but that could have been because you were waking up next to your boss.

You're thankful your mom works erratic hours at the hospital and didn't notice your late arrival this morning. You spend most of that day pacing around your house, doing laundry but mostly just feeling fuzzy. Not hung-over fuzzy (although that's part of it). It's an overwhelmed fuzzy that makes your head feel like cotton.

Your day feels impossibly long and short all at once. You want it to hurry up so you can go to bed but at the same time you want it to stretch ad finitum because you dread seeing Dieter tomorrow.

You'd left in such a rush that morning, not taking him up on his offer of breakfast. You needed to get away from him and that bed and that house. Needed to think about your next steps.

When you mom arrives home later that night you've made dinner that you both eat in front of the TV. Your mom chooses some bad hallmark romance movie that makes you want to throw a brick through the screen.

As you sit there bored your mind can't help but begin drifting back to Dieter and that night. You wonder what the sex was like if you actually did it. Was he tender? No, you think he'd be like a jackhammer. Despite his reputation for marathon sessions you think they Dieter would be a selfish lover.

"Mom what was it like being pregnant with me?"

Your mom raises her head curiously from her palm braced against the couch arm.

"Why do you ask honey?"

"I dunno, I guess after Becky did that whole surrogate thing it made me wonder why people go through it," you lie. "It seems like so much effort for so little pay off."

"You think you were little pay off?" You mom asks with a sleepy smile. "I disagree."

"I think kids are really hard," you smile back. "And I don't really get it."

"Well you've said you're not having kids so I don't think you need to worry about it," your mom says kindly.

You know as an only child there's a lot of pressure on you to have kids. You know your mom is aching to be a grandparent, especially after your dad's death.

But she's never pressured you. When you told her you had no intention of having kids even if you found the greatest spouse she had simply hugged you and said she respected your choice.

But you don't miss how she eagerly listens to stories about Becky's babies or asks to see photos. You don't miss how her eyes linger in the baby section at Wal-Mart. You don't miss the way she smiles at the trick or treat-ers that crowd your doorway on Halloween.

"I felt wonderful being pregnant," she says suddenly. "Loved every second. Felt like a fertile goddess."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

A ping sounds on your phone and a headline from a tabloid catches your eyes as you swipe up.

Dieter Bravo signs on for period piece alongside Hollywood darling Mia Rowe.

"Oh good he booked it," you murmur to yourself. He'd been beside himself working on his British accent, desperate to land this role that would take him from goofy villain to serious, romantic leading man.

"What was that honey?" Your mom asks, now slumped over sleepily on the couch.

"Just Dieter stuff," you explain. "I have an alert set to his name."

She grunts a reply before turning back to the television.

You read the rest of the article delighted that his co-star is Mia Rowe. That's amazing news! You love her! You only hope he can keep it in his pants long enough to keep production from falling apart. You can't help but smile as you send him a text.

[10:44pm] Congrats! I just heard about the Regency drama. You must be so excited! 🎉

You rest your phone in your lap before second guessing and placing it on the couch arm next to you. You look at your stomach, amazed that you of all people could potentially be carrying life.

[10:44pm] D: I am thank u. Do u feel pregnant?

You roll your eyes so hard you're convinced you can see your brain. Is he fucking serious? Does he really not have any clue about how pregnancy works? Is he not aware that Google is free?

[10:45pm] I won't know for weeks.

[10:45pm] D: I thought women knew early?? That's what Magda says.

Magda is his ancient housekeeper. A woman who has worked for Dieter since he hit it big. She does a terrible job keeping his house tidy but there's no way he'll ever fire her.

You turn your phone off irritated. You'd been trying to be kind and supportive and he managed to overlook it entirely.

You watch your mother fall asleep on the couch, her head tilted in her hand. And for a fleeting moment you do hope that you're pregnant. You want to give this woman everything.

$300,000 would change both of your lives and it seems insane that Dieter won't even miss that amount from his bank account. It'll be a drop in the ocean for him. It makes you feel prickly and resentful by the time his next text message comes through.

[11:02pm] D: Are ur breasts tender?

[11:02pm] Fuck off.

///

Living in the fantasy of having all that money had been fun. But a large part of you hadn't really believed that you'd be pregnant.

So when the two pink lines show up on the pregnancy test that Dieter has bought you three weeks later, you shake your head and take another one.

"Well?"

Dieters muffled voice calls to you through the bathroom door. He's been sitting outside the door leaning against it for the last ten minutes.

"Gimme a second!" You bark out over your shoulder.

You take another test.

And another one.

Pregnant.

Yep. You're fucking pregnant.

You are carrying Dieter Bravo's child in you at this very second.

You pull up your t-shirt, standing and looking in the mirrors reflection. Your stomach looks exactly the same. Nothing has changed.

And yet everything has changed.

Dieter is waiting for you outside his office bathroom pacing back and forth. When he sees your wide eyes his own go owlish in his face.

You swallow before thrusting the three tests into his hands. He looks at all three, delight blooming over his face.

He falls to his knees, raising his hands in victory over his head before bellowing.

"We're having a fucking baby!"

///

After a multitude of tests by Dieter's private doctor the next week, the confirmation comes through.

You're six weeks along.

Dieter jumps on the couch, shouting excitedly as the news is announced. You simply sit stiffly in your chair as the doctor smiles at you and offers you congratulations.

"It's still early," he warns you both and that causes Dieter to stop jumping on furniture.

There's a lot of paperwork to go over that following week. Dieter has brought in his lawyer and on top of the additional NDA there's also a mountain of certain clauses, exceptions etc. Dieter offers to pay for a lawyer for you but you deny him.

You take the paperwork to a cheap lawyer in town who gives it back a week later citing that "it's thorough but fair."

No one besides you, Dieter, his manager Mark and his publicist Diane can know. Diane is handling the roll out of the birth nine months from now, laying the groundwork for a successful launch.

She talks about your future child like a product or commodity. It makes both you and Dieter wince.

"No hard drugs Dieter, I'm serious," Diane warns him over coffee in his living room. She's got a checklist to go through with him and you.

"I've been off 'em for weeks," he assures her. "Just stickin' to weed."

"No big parties, no orgies," she says checking notes off her phone. "No ridiculous ranting on the red carpet."

"Fine." Dieter nods although you can see that he's going to miss those. He's always enjoyed the attention that goes along with a good party... Or a good orgy... Or rant.

"And you," Diane says turning to face you seated beside Dieter in his living room. "Obviously you signed an NDA so if people ask, you got pregnant from a one night stand and due to religious reasons you're keeping the pregnancy and giving the kid up for adoption."

Partially accurate.

"Won't it look kinda suspicious for his PA to be pregnant and then him suddenly have a baby?" you ask, suddenly concerned.

"You won't be his PA after this conversation," Diane informs you. "It would be a massive conflict of interest."

You feel your heart lurch. "Wait, I'm fired?"

"Not at all," Diane explains patiently. "You're on paid leave. You'll be given your weekly paychecks as usual."

The thought of nine months stuck at home for your mother to fret over (or worse once she finds out the dad is Dieter) makes you wince. Dieter squirms in his seat next to you, scratching absently at his ankle. A trait he does when he's agitated.

You've been his PA the longest he's ever maintained one. Usually he sleeps with them or burdens them into quitting. He feels safe with you, you're good at your job and you make him feel stable. Plus you’re carrying his fucking child. He doesn’t want you gone.

"No," Dieter finally insists, his voice strong. "I need her. I'm going to film in Ireland and I need her with me."

"Dieter-"

"She can wear baggy clothes when she starts to show," he reasons. "And when she gets too big she can do office work."

"Dieter-"

"No negotiating," Dieter insists. "I want her to work for me as long as she wants to." He turns to you at this point, brow raised. "Only if you do."

You smile brightly at him. "I do."

"So do I."

"Great," Diane says rolling her eyes. "I now pronounce you both totally fucked."

///

When you finally hand your completed contract over to Dieter and his lawyers that following week his smile is so wide you think that his face will split.

Immediately his broad hand goes to rest against your belly, eyes wide with anticipation.

"Hello little thing, I'm your daddy," he tells your stomach.

"Okay rule one," you tell him, pushing him off of you with a look of disgust. "No touching me without permission. I am not going to be one of those pregnant women that let strangers touch her belly."

"We're not strangers," Dieter pouts.

"Besides all your touching right now is my stomach fat," you say flatly. "The baby is the size of a poppy seed."

Dieter looks amazed. "How do you know that?"

You show him the app you've downloaded to your phone to track everything from fetal development to dietary suggestions. It's called BabiEDucate.

"You can make an account too," you tell him. "Parents can link up and access the same files."

Dieter is already downloading it before the sentence leaves your mouth. Parents. He's going to be a parent. He's going to be a dad! He's fucking giddy.

"I'll make sure I update it with everything," you promise. "Photos, cravings. It'll keep you involved even when you're working."

"Oh right," Dieter says, deflating. In all his excitement he'd forgotten the film. Several months of filming a period piece over in Ireland. "You're still coming right?"

"I'm still your PA aren't I?" you say bringing out the schedule. Ireland is only a few weeks away and you wonder if you'll be showing.

The nice thing about being a nobody in the world of celebrity is that no one will think it's strange if you suddenly start to show. You're Dieter's PA, not his friend or co-star. Your pregnancy won't be fodder for tabloid headlines or the rumor mill.

"When we're in public I'm still your employee," you remind him. "So no talking to my stomach or talking about the pregnancy."

Dieter looks thoughtful before snapping his fingers, inspired.

"We'll have a code word! How about... Broccoli."

"No."

"Lube?"

"Dieter-"

"Bubble? that's even a fun word to say!"

"Fine," you say with an eye roll. "Bubble it is."

///

By the end of your second month you feel like absolute shit. Morning sickness has hit you bad. Your mom is usually out of the house before you in the mornings but she catches you hovering over the toilet one morning and you have to pass it off as food poisoning.

You're thankful that filming will take you over to Ireland for a few months. That's a few months that you can put off telling her that you're carrying your boss's child.

Dieter has been as annoying as he is helpful in that regard. When you're with him at his place or driving to an event he's his usual self. Well, except all he wants to do is talk about the baby. But at least he does his job and can be redirected.

When you're not with him though? It's another story.

[2:06pm] D: you didn't upload to the app today. 🍼🍼🍼

[2:07pm] Too busy puking.

[2:07pm] D: I saw an article that says ginger tea helps.

[2:08pm] 👍

When you come out of the bathroom wiping at your washed mouth an hour later you're surprised to hear knocking.

You open it to find Dieter standing at your door with a cardboard box.

"What are you doing here?" You ask, eyes blown wide. "It's my day off and you're supposed to be at a promo photoshoot for-."

"I know," Dieter interrupts before placing the package into your arms. You glance inside to see heaps of ginger products: tea, honey, biscuits, candies.

"What’s all this?"

"For your morning sickness," he says glancing down at your stomach as if he's expecting you to have magically popped since he saw you yesterday. He's disappointed that you still look the same.

He gives you a quick smile and wave as he heads back down your driveway towards the waiting cab.

"Don't forget to update the app!'

#dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo smut #dieter bravo #dieter x reader #pedro pascal dieter #The Bubble #pedro pascal smut #Pedro Pascal #fanfic #fanfiction #smut #eventual smut #romance #love #pregnancy

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hikarry · 3 months

Text

Girl, sit down. I'm about to slap you with another imagine

*claps hands*

Ready?

Imagine: 1802, Russia. Czar Alexander I in power

Crowley infiltrated the palace as a war General.

A maid just handed him an envelope while he was walking around the gardens, and he was quick to open it with his finger. It was Aziraphale's, from Soho, London. A long one, as they usually were.

He scanned it quickly, just taking the general idea - he would read more calmly when he was home, by himself, and not feeling like he was being watched.

At the end of the second page, finally, something actually caught his attention. Aziraphale was going to Krasnaya Polyana, around a day away from Moscow. Apparently, there had been a spike of demonic activity there, and Heaven had sent him to investigate. He was asking if Crowley had anything to do with it, but he clearly didn't. He had been stuck in Moscow for 7 months now. But, alas, he also had no idea who it could be. He was not informed that another demon was topside in this region. And, for some reason, the angel going to the encounter of an unknown demon was not sitting well with him. He folded the letter and hid it in his jacket's pocket.

Aziraphale was a big angel. He could look out for himself... yet that did not mean Crowley couldn't try and find out who was causing mayhem in Krasnaya Polyana, did it?

As soon as Crowley got home that night, he wrote a quick note to one of his contacts in Hell, asking for information and readied himself to wait for at least 3 days before he got an answer. Surprisingly, it took only a night. When he woke up, there was a small note on his bedside table. He picked it up and turned it around, reading quickly. He sucked in a sharp breath before re-reading the note, just to make sure he was understanding correctly.

Asmodeus was topside. Along with Vine. A Prince and a Duke of Hell, and Aziraphale was walking right to the lion's mouth by himself.

Right. Okay.

Crowley read it one last time before burning it in his hands.

He had to find an excuse to get himself sent to Krasnaya Polyana as soon as possible, preferably before Asmodeus and Vine caught Aziraphale's scent around. The angel might be an ex-cherubim, but Satan knew what a real Prince of Hell could do to him and Crowley was surely not going to sit in the sidelines to find out.

A week and a half later - way way later than he expected - he got himself in Krasnaya Polyana. As soon as he got out of the train, he was hit with the smell of sulfur and a heavy feeling of evil all around.

With no bags to carry or to worry about, he just closed his eyes and reached out for Aziraphale's essence. He could feel it, barely. If his senses weren't mistaken, he was somewhere in the mountain.

Could Crowley help it, he wanted to avoid meeting both the Prince and the Duke. He only hoped Aziraphale was still off their tracks.

It was snowing heavily. The mountain was covered in ice, and the wind was frigid and white, somehow. It made it very, very hard to see or even focus enough to grasp Aziraphale's essence and keep following it.

His boots sank in the snow, and it didn't take long for his legs to start hurting and his insides to feel raw from the cold.

At the peripheral of his vision, he could also feel two very distinguishable demonic essences. The stronger one was in the city, which Crowley had already left behind, and the other was barely visible, somewhere on the top of the mountain, but considerably far away from Aziraphale.

The angel was alright. Probably he was in one of those ski places slightly up the mountain. And, confident in that thought, Crowley forced himself to stop and enter a bar nearby. Exhausting himself would not help the angel, so he needed a little break to recover and be able to continue to climb the bloody mountain.

He was sitting at a table, half full glass of vodka between his hands, when a loud groan was heard outside and the whole building shook, all the lights going out. People around him gasped and yelled, holding themselves to the furniture and each other until the tremor stopped.

"Oh goodness, what was that?" A woman asked near the bar with a very heavy French accent, both her arms around a man that held her just as close.

"An avalanche." The bartender answered, walking around to light up some candles. "And a strong one at that. There might be replicas, so everyone should stay put for at least an hour or-"

Yeah...so, Crowley didn't exactly hear the rest. He just tossed the vodka down in a single swing and got up from his seat, slithering around the people in the bar until he reached the door. He felt a hand on his arm, trying to pull him back when he reached for the doorknob, but he shook it away, finally getting outside.

The layer of snow outside was so thick now that his boots didn't dig into it. So he ran. Which didn't help with his respiratory system and, consequently, the rest of his body feeling raw and frozen all at the same time in less than few seconds. It took longer for his legs to get tired, but he was already tired, regardless. Still, he soldiered on, all riding on adrenaline and low-key panic.

"Aziraphale!" When Crowley started feeling his essence more clearly he started calling out for him, trying to see through the fog and the snow still falling. Not even his demonic eyes were helping on that task.

Eventually, he got to a spot where he could feel the essence so strongly that he actually felt its warmth, so he stopped and looked around, his heart hammering against his chest and his breath rasp and heavy.

"Aziraphale?" He turned on himself. There was no sign of Aziraphale anywhere... but he could swear the angel should be right here... and suddenly, it clicked. "No..." He was under the snow, wasn't he? "Fuck. Aziraphale!"

Crowley took a few steps to the left and fell to his knees, his trousers getting ice cold soaked as he dig the snow as fast as he could. He had no idea how much time had passed, but finally, he found some cream fabric under the snow.

"No, no, no, no. For fucks sake, Aziraphale!" Still digging, he started talking to himself, mainly not to let the panic spiral and keep himself grounded. "Why is it always you?! Don't those wanker archangels have any other angel to throw into a frozen nightmare after their bloody death?!"

From there, it was rather easy to dig his torso and his face from under the snow.

Aziraphale was frozen to the touch, his lips were an awful shade of bluish-purple and his corporation was not breathing.

Okay. Crowley. Just. Don't. Panic.

He held Aziraphale by the shoulders and pulled him the rest of the way out of the snow.

"Angel?" At some point he had thrown his gloves to the side to make digging easier, so now he placed his equally frozen, wet and trembling hands on Aziraphale's cheeks. With his demonic essence, he tried to reach out for Aziraphale's and the angel's essence reached back instantly like a cougar attacking its unattentive prey, surprising the demon, who staggered back, hands away from the angel, snapping his essence back inside his own corporation.

Alright. Aziraphale was quite clearly still here, and he was either so out of his mind he pounced on Crowley with the default intent to smite him, or he was just plainly terrified.

Carefully, both his hands once again on the angel's face, he slowly reached out, this time more prepared for when Aziraphale's essence jumped on him.

Aziraphale wasn't trying to smite him. He was reaching for warmth.

Crowley's corporation shallowed as he sat back and pulled Aziraphale to his lap, upping his body heat as much as he possibly could. It didn't feel great. In fact, it felt like he was having a very bad fever, and his mind swam a bit with the sudden difference in temperature, but he had to try and keep the angel warm. On a metaphysical level, Crowley's True Form surrounded Aziraphale's, as tight as metaphysically possible, trying to keep him stable. Keep him here. His essence was flickering a bit, and Crowley wasn't having any of it.

"Don't you dare discorporate, you bastard."

Crowley looked around. There was nowhere warm where he could take the angel close enough. Try as he might, this was only a temporary solution. One that wasn't doing much at that.

Suddenly, his head snapped back to attention as he felt a demonic presence getting closer.

Fucking Heavens, that was exactly the last thing he needed right now. There was nowhere to hide, and even if he found some place, the Duke would feel Aziraphale's essence and hunt like a starved dog.

Right. Think. Preferably before Aziraphale fucking discoporates in your arms.

The only idea that came to mind was miracling a small cabin or whatnot into existence right then and there. It would be a big ass miracle, and he would be exhausted afterward, but his priority was keeping Aziraphale here. So he took a long breath and snapped his fingers, a small wooden cabin showing up right behind them.

Gently, Crowley got up and took Aziraphale in his arms, walking them both into the cabin. At least inside there was no more wind or snow, and whatever body heat his body produced would remain trapped between the four walls.

Sitting Aziraphale on the floor with his back against the wall, Crowley detached his cape from his shoulders and wrapped it around the angel before turning his attention to the door.

Vine would find a cabin in the middle of a bloody mountain suspicious, as he should.

Crowley was tired, both physically, mentally and metaphysically, and his miracle reservoir was quite affected by that and the big ass miracle he just performed, but he had to put up wards around this place that not only masked the cabin, but both his and Aziraphale's essences from the Duke's radar. It was easier said than done, but he had no time to dilly dally. With each snap, he felt his mind go foggy, and his vision tilt to the side. Yet, he kept going until everything was more or less in place. All he could do for now was pray. Or not pray. He was a demon. Demons didn't pray

He sat on the floor next to Aziraphale and pulled him into his lap, hugging him against his chest and upping his body temperature once again. This time, he was invaded by a sudden nausea, and his eyes unfocused, but he kept it up, trapping Aziraphale's True Form with his own once again.

"Stay with me, angel." It was more a wordless request than a whisper.

There they stayed, Crowley with his head leaned against the wall and Aziraphale unconscious on his arms.

Slowly but surely, Aziraphale's skin started warming up, and his lips changed to a very pale pink, but pink nonetheless.

Crowley was exhausted. Part of him was begging him to close his eyes and sleep, but if he did his body temperature would go back down to normal and his essence would spring back to his corporation, letting go of Aziraphale and that wasn't an option. Not until he was concious.

In the back of his mind, he noticed when the demonic presence got dangerously close to where they were. Instinctively, he hugged Aziraphale more tightly, holding his breath. He felt truly frozen in place while the Duke slowly walked by them and only allowed himself to somewhat relax again when he was far away enough. Yet, he didn't put down the wards. They were consuming a lot of his energy, and his body was growing somewhat numb, but he refused to let go.

Aziraphale's corporation took a deep breath and slowly started shaking.

Good. That was good. He was coming back to himself.

It was a slow process, but when the night fell outside, Aziraphale finally stirred, opening his eyes with quite the effort.

"Crowley...?" His voice was sluggish, but Satan was it good to hear it. The demon was too weak to answer with words, so he only hummed, gripping him more strongly. "What happened...?"

Gradually, Crowley let his body heat fall to its normal temperature, and he let the ward hidding the cabin fall. It was like someone had taken a boulder off his chest, but his mind was still somewhat slow. He looked down at Aziraphale, his sunglasses lost somewhere in the snow outside while he had been digging.

"There's was an avalanche. You got trapped in it. Buried yourself 7 feet under a block of ice."

Aziraphale moved slightly on his lap, straightening himself up so he was actually sitting.

"You're supposed to be in Moscow."

"Observant."

"What are you even doing here, Crowley?"

He thought about dropping his arms from around Aziraphale, but he wasn't ready for that. Not yet.

"Saving your arse once again, obviously. If I had stayed in Moscow, right now your corporation would be a popsicle and you would be upstairs getting an earful from Gabriel or that wanker Michael. So, you're welcome."

The angel didn't say anything else. Instead, he let his head fall on Crowley's shoulder, and both of them stayed in silence, only their ragged breathes and the wind outside making themselves heard.

"You need to leave Russia. Or, at least, Krasnaya Polyana."

"I can't." His hand was gripping the front of Crowley's jacket, the demon wasn't sure he was aware of that. "I have an assignment to complete."

"It's completed." Aziraphale's head snapped up, looking the demon in the eye. "You came here to figure out why there was a spike of demonic energy here, yes? There's a Prince and a Duke of Hell. Asmodeus and Vine. That's why."

"I can't just leave these people in the hands of two demons! I have to find out whatever it is they are trying to do!"

"That's not part of your assignment. You had to know the cause, now you know. You will write your report as soon as you can and get the heavens out of here before they sniff you out."

"Crowley, you're being ridic-"

"You are leaving, Aziraphale." Now it was his turn to look the angel in the eye, his voice as cold as the ice outside. "You've never dealt with a Duke of Hell, much less a Prince. You've mainly dealt with me and, let's be honest with ourselves, I give you little to no trouble. You are not prepared to face either of them. Asmodeus could easily discorporate you on sight. Or kill you. Actually kill you. Destroy your essence. They are not some random demons you can waltz to and have a polite conversation with." Aziraphale stayed quiet, unmoving. "You are leaving and that's final."

"You can't order me around."

"I'm trying to save your bloody life, Aziraphale!" His arms let go of the angel, and his hands came up to grab his shoulders, shaking him slightly. "This is not a joke. They will not stop by to have tea and biscuits and discuss the weather while you convince them to leave. Stop being fucking stubborn for once in your damn life! You did what you came to do. Just tell Gabriel that they are here and leave." Aziraphale looks down to his hands. "I'm serious, angel." He held the angel's chin, pushing him to look up at him again. "I'm not leaving you here with them. You either come with me to Moscow or go straight back to London to the bookshop."

Crowley feels the vibrations of Aziraphale humming on his fingers.

"Very well, my dear. Whatever you say." The angel got up from his lap and the demon followed him, swaying on his feet. Aziraphale held his arm, stabilizing him. "Are you quite alright?"

He kept his eyes closed for a few moments until his mind stopped feeling sluggish. Probably because he took too long answer, Crowley felt Aziraphale's fingers brushing his. He finally let down the two last wards and took the deepest breath.

"I'm fine. Just. A lot of big miracles. And you grabbing at my essence and True Form like a dehydrated man in the desert." Aziraphale's hand flinched away and he was about to open his mouth to say something, but Crowley cut it, holding his hand, squeezing it. "I said I'm fine. Let's go back to civilization, shall we?"

They did go back to civilization. To Moscow in the first train out from Krasnaya Polyana, to be more precise.

Aziraphale stayed with Crowley in his flat at the capital for 3 days. He wrote the report as soon as they arrived, and both waited to hear something from Gabriel in the next few days, but silence was all they got. On the 3rd day, when Aziraphale had his train back to Paris and then to London, Crowley insisted on seeing him out, so he had to leave the palace in quite the hurry, with no chance to switch out his uniform.

"Thank you for seeing me out, dear. Or should I say..." Aziraphale tapped Crowley's hat. ", General?"

Crowley rolled his eyes fondly, smiling in response.

"Shut up."

"I'm not jesting. You've always looked rather... fetching in a uniform. When was the last time you wore one? American Revolution?"

"I believe so."

Aziraphale hummed, fixing Crowley's left shoulder pad.

"You always wore them much better than I did."

"Usually you are at the hospitals saving lives, angel. Not in the battlefield."

The angel snorted.

"Not like you are in the battlefield actually fighting yourself."

"Oi! I have fought!"

"Mmh. I've never seen you holding a gun. And the last time I saw you brandishing a sword was back in the Gallic Wars, back in 58 BCE."

"Ngk."

Aziraphale chuckled, taking a step back, grabbing his suitcase.

"Will you be back in London?"

"Myeah. Should be done here in another year or so."

"Shall I keep watering your plants?"

"You've got the key, don't you?"

"Indeed." They heard the train making the last call and both looked towards the noise before looking back at each other. "Do try to not get yourself discorporated."

"Likewise. I'll see you in a year, angel."

Aziraphale nodded and started walking away, dragging his suitcase behind him. Before stepping through the train's entrance, he looked back, spotting the demon exactly where he left him, still watching him. Crowley winked and saluted him, pulling a chuckle out of Aziraphale's throat.

Crowley was ridiculous.

And so the angel went back to London. Alive. And out of the rather of any demonic entity, apart from the one he wanted to stay in the radar of.

#yes i was watching Anastasia and this got stuck in my head. i had to offer yall my little vision #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #anthony j crowley

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strangersteddierthings · 6 months

Text

No Regrets - Part Three

This one got longer than I expected, so it's only about Spring Break. We return to the apocalypse next part.

Part One🦇 Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five🦇Part Six

"-eve?"

Waking up again is disorienting. His head aches like the beginning of a migraine. There was something he was thinking about but it's fading quickly. A conversation in a boathouse...? That's not right. The boathouse was empty. The police had beat them there.

"Steve?"

No. No conversation in a boathouse. But there was a phone call. He knows he remembers that. Joyce had called last night. Her and Murray sharing a phone between them as Steve- Oh! Right. Steve told them he knew about Hopper in Russia.

"You have to go, though. Hopper is alive and waiting. And there's a demogorgon. Demodogs, too. You have to kill them all. Any connection to the Upside Down left alive helps Vecna. It's like having a tether to here makes him stronger."

"I can't just abandon El," Joyce sounds conflicted, and Steve gets it. He does.

"You aren't. You're going to be giving her back her dad. She's got Jonathan and Will and Mike. Argyle, too, if he wants to be there. Just. Just get them on the road and back here as soon as you can. If they don't leave soon than Brenner will-"

"Brenner? What do you mean Brenner? He's dead. Right? He's supposed to be dead."

"Yeah, well, he's not. He- I don't know the full details, just. I was just given an overview because, y'know, other shit was going down. But he makes El relive a lot of traumatic shit from her past and yeah, it gets her back her powers, but she's just a kid. She's just a kid."

"Her abilities, they aren't gone?" It's Murray who asks.

"No. She's just traumatized, in a different way. It was... it was Jonathan who said this, actually, to me. I mean, he hasn't said it yet, and if everything goes the way I want, he won't need to say it ever, but that's- sorry, that's not important. He said he thinks El blocked her abilities because she lost Hopper. An internal block, you know? 'Cause she couldn't save him with them, so what was the point of having them?"

"And you think bringing Hopper back will free her of that block?" Murray asks.

Steve can't help it. He laughs. "Hell no. I think years of therapy might, but having her dad will help. There's no way it hurts, right? Also, uh, you're the parent here, Joyce, so I'll let you decide what to tell her, but the big, awful thing that Brenner made her relive? It was a massacre. At the lab, when she was there. Another guy, another number, killed a bunch of the people there. It was El who saved the remainder. She stopped him from killing anyone else by opening the first gate to the Upside Down. She tossed him in and closed it. She's not a monster. Oh, that part you have to tell her. She's not a monster."

"Steve!"

There's more to the phone call, Steve knows he knows that but there's yelling and it's distracting.

"Steve!!"

"What?" Steve snaps, both with his shout and back into himself. He's sitting at the picnic in Forest Hills. Everyone is looking at him with varying degrees of concern.

"You okay?" Robin asks, "we've been trying to get your attention for a while now."

"What? Yeah, sorry," Steve says, distracted, standing up and looking around. Eddie's trailer is right there, and Wayne's truck is parked in front. He knows Wayne. Knew Wayne? He's in charge of the gardens at home base. A real green thumb, not that you can tell by looking at the trailer now. "You think that with Fred's death, they'll stop suspecting Eddie?"

"What? We don't know that they suspect Eddie," Dustin is quick to say, "I know he didn't do it, and so do you so-"

"Yeah, I know! I do know that, but Chrissy died in his home and then he ran. Of course, he's a suspect. But he was in jail last night. So. They can't suspect him still, right?"

Nancy purses her lips, giving Steve a look he knows isn't good. "Well, it will depend on when they apprehended Eddie, which we don't even know they did. How do you know he was in jail last night?"

"Good point. I don't, not for sure. But Wayne might," Steve says as he starts walking away. He can hear everyone at the picnic table shouting for him and scrambling to follow. Steve picks up speed, dashing up the steps and pounding on the door before anyone catches up.

"Steve, what are you doing," Max hisses, because she's the fastest and therefore the closest.

"I just gotta-"

"Can I help you?" Wayne Munson greets, voice even. Steve watches as his eyes sweep the group, pausing on Nancy before coming back to Steve.

"Hopefully. Uh, I'm a friend of- well, no that's a lie. I don't want to lie to you. I'm not Eddie's friend, but I want to be, and Dustin here is, so we just wanted to know if you could tell us if Eddie's okay?" Steve says. "You already talked to Nancy yesterday, but she didn't know that we, like, knew him. Have you heard from Eddie?"

Wayne eyes him with suspicion, which is fair, "I ain't heard from him."

"Please," Steve says, because he's got to try one more time. Either Wayne doesn't know for real, or he's lying because he doesn't trust Steve. He's not sure he'll be able to tell which is which, but he has to ask again, "I swear that we just want to help Eddie. Whatever happened to Chrissy wasn't his fault, I know that. I just need. I need to know he's not- not out there, alone and scared. Please."

Wayne stares him down and Steve refuses to look away. Wayne's eyes flick away from him to the single police cruiser still stationed nearby, then back. "Get in here."

He doesn't need told twice. Wayne retreats into the trailer and Steve follows. Immediately his eyes jump to where the gate will form. Currently it just looks like water damage on the ceiling, but Steve knows. No gate yet, but it'll be there tomorrow. Probably fully formed by the time Vecna tries to take Max.

Robin, the last one in, shuts the door behind her gently.

"I told her yesterday that Eddie didn't do this," Wayne nods his head towards Nancy but he never takes his eyes off Steve. "Didn't stop them from arresting him."

"Thank God," Steve breaths out, which is the wrong thing to say, given how quickly Wayne's face morphs to anger, so he quickly adds, "shit, I mean, that means, he was in police custody when they found another victim last night, right? That'll prove he's innocent."

Wayne doesn't respond right away. Instead, he takes his time looking at each and every one of them, lingering on Nancy before settling on Max. "You live 'cross the way, don't ya?"

Max looks surprised to be recognized. "Yeah."

"Did you see anything?"

"I saw..." she trails off, brows furrowing as she thinks. She looks from Wayne to Steve. He doesn't know what she sees on his face, but he watches as she steels herself, a decidion made, before looking back to Wayne and saying, "What I saw is whatever I'll need to have seen to help Eddie."

"You'd lie to the police for Eddie?"

Max and Wayne have a silent conversation following the question, judging by their stare down and raising and following brow lines. When Max does speak, she says, "I've lied to police for worse people."

"Huh," is all Wayne says as he settles back against the counter behind him.

"Thank you," Steve says, even as his mind starts to calculate. They'll probably keep him the full 48 hours, since there isn't evidence enough to charge him. Right? There isn't really any evidence. Except, perhaps, what Eddie might have told them. Shit. Would Eddie say anything? "Can you let me know when they release him? Whatever happened, whatever he saw, probably freaked him out. I don't want him to feel alone. I mean, we don't."

Dustin is looking at him now like he's grown a second head but Wayne. Wayne is looking at him like he's made a realization. Drawn some unknown conclusion that he must approve of because he nods. "Sure, son."

"You got pen and paper? I'll write down my number."

The silence from his friends is deafening and does not bode well for Steve. He just knows they're going to bombard him as soon as they leave the trailer.

Which is exactly what happens. They wait until they're back by their cars before starting in, though.

"Steve, what the fuck was that?" Dustin says.

"How did you know he got arrested?" Max demands.

"Steve, you are acting so strange right now," Robin says, worry painted across her face.

"Explain," is all Nancy says, crossing her arms.

Should he? Does he even know what's happening? No. Not really. He's got memories of a future that's bleak and dark and terrible and he doesn't want it to come true. Are they even memories? Did those events even happen? He doesn't know for sure. All he does know if he wants to do everything in his power to prevent it from happening though. He doesn't want to have regrets about.... about something.

"We don't win," he says. "We don't win this one. Or, we didn't? We might now. Things are different this time."

"What?" Robin asks.

Steve ignores the question, giving instead more of the information he knows, "Hopper's alive. Joyce and Murray are on their way to Russia to save him."

"WHAT?" he's not sure who asked. Maybe all of them.

"And El is- I don't know. On her way, I hope. But she won't have her powers when she gets here. Or maybe she will? If she believes she's not a monster and really is the hero."

"Steve, you are not making any sense!"

"I know!" Steve shouts and drops into a squat. "I know! I'm not the- the figure it out guy, or the plans guy, or whatever. I'm just the guy who knows things he shouldn't, and I can't tell if it's because I actually lived it, or if I was just given knowledge about it somehow. I know the Upside Down has a red storm that never ends, more democreatures that just gorgons or dogs, and that Vecna slash Henry slash One is a goddamn monster who opens a giant hell gate and causes the apocalypse."

"Whoa, whoa," Dustin sooths, and when Steve looks up, Dustin's got both hands up and approaching like Steve's a wild animal. He kind of feels like one right now. "Slow down and explain."

There's a lot Steve could say. Should say. Steve is kind and soft, even in the face of the end of the world, but he's also learning that he's a little ruthless. Not heartless, but enough that he can see where they are, where they need to be, and how to get there in the easiest way possible. His eyes flick to Max. "Chrissy and Fred. They were both seeing the guidance counselor. You've seen them both there, right Max?"

"I- yeah. Yeah, I have."

"And Nancy, you've got a hunch, right? You need to go to the library to check it out?"

She narrows her eyes at him but nods.

"Okay. So, uh, let's use that as proof. You and Robin go check out your hunch, and I'll stick with Dustin and Max. Take Max to see Ms. Kelley and see if she'll tell Max anything that connects them?"

"You already know what we'll find, don't you?" Nancy asks, and Steve shrugs. "You're right. I won't believe you. Not without this proof. So, we'll go, Robin and me. And when we meet up, I expect you to tell me what we learned."

Max is completely silent the entire drive, an exact opposite of Dustin who shoots off so many questions in a row that Steve can barely remember the first by the time he's onto the next. Not that it would matter, because Dustin doesn't pause between any of his questions or comments to let Steve answer anyway.

Max launches herself from car almost as soon as Steve pulls up to the curb with a loudly groaned, "finally" before she slams the door and bounds across the street.

"Steve! Are you even listening to me!?" Dustin has finally lost steam or ran out of breath or something.

"Are you done yelling at me?" Steve retorts.

Dustin lets out a really big sigh then says, "For now. I just- Let's start with this. How do you know that Hopper's alive?"

"Joyce and Murray confirmed it when I talked to them on the phone. They're supposed to be getting El and crew heading back this way while they go to rescue him, but I don't really know how that's going."

Dustin squints at him. "I thought you could see the future now."

"No. I saw the future, so like, lived it or something. And it's like... You watch Back to the Future yet?"

"Yes."

"Okay, so like, the part where his family starts to vanish from the picture? Because he made his mom want to bang him-?"

"That is a disgusting oversimplification of the plotline, Steve."

"-it's like that. Except I want to change the events because we definitely end up in the bad timeline."

"Okay. Say I believe you. You said we don't win this time. Explain that."

Steve sighs. "Can that wait for like, everyone? Explain it all at once?"

"What made it so bad you have to alter the course of all of human existence?" Dustin demands.

"The Upside Down breaks through, man," Steve says, "Like, toxic air and no more sunlight or blue skies kinda bad. Full on, end of the world apocalypse type shit."

"Shit. We, like, lose lose," Dustin says in a small voice Steve doesn't think he's ever heard Dustin use before he huffs and falls out of view with a click and the sound of squeaking leather. Steve watches as Dustin reclines his seat back so he can stare up at the ceiling of the BMW.

"Yeah," Steve says before they fall into silence until Max sprints back, screaming for him to drive before she's even got the door closed behind her and certainly isn't wearing her seatbelt yet.

They all converge at the school, and Steve tells them what Nancy and Robin learned at the library, then Max puts together the thread that connected Chrissy and Fred, and he has to watch, again, as she accepts she's going to die. She even looks to him, as if he'll confirm that with a shake of his head or a nod.

He just blinks back at her until she looks away.

They want answers he isn't ready to give. Not until tomorrow, after Vecna tries to take Max. Given how today has gone, tomorrow shouldn't be much of a change. Nancy and Robin will still go the Pennhurst, and Steve will take Max everywhere she wants to go, but this time he'll be ready. It's not too late, so the little music store down from Melvald's will still be open. Hopefully they have Kate Bush handy. He'll make sure Lucas has a backup cassette player and-

"Wait. Lucas should be told. He should be here. Why isn't he..." Steve trails off, trying to remember why Lucas would be here. He went to party with the basketball team and- and what? There's something he's missing. Something changed. His head hurts and the white noise is back, and it hits him so suddenly he sways and stumbles backwards until he hits a wall.

"Steve!" Robin gasps his name and rushes to hold him up. Dustin is at his other side just as quick.

"I'm ok," Steve says with eyes closed. He can't explain it, but he's changed something. He knows he has. Lucas is with them tomorrow, he remembers that, and there's this feeling that he should be here now. That he should have shown up at the school, but the reason eludes him. Slips from his grasp like he's trying to hold water. "It's- there was something that was supposed to happen. Something that made Lucas find us here at the school. I remember that. I- I almost hit him with a lamp. But he's not here. He didn't- something's changed. Whatever happened before didn't happen again."

"What, like, you changed the past?" Dustin asks.

The laugh Steve lets out is manic, even to his own ears. "I don't know! I can't remember! It's there, the why, but I can't reach it. It's faded, man, like the picture. It's faded."

"Okay, I think it's time we get some rest," Nancy says. "Dustin, you'll radio Lucas tonight and fill him in. Tell him Steve or I will pick him up tomorrow morning to join us. Let's go everyone, before someone does show up."

Nancy takes Dustin and Max, and Robin sticks with Steve. She doesn't even question his detour to the music store, just helps him find the Kate Bush tape. Doesn't even raise an eyebrow when he buys two cassette players, five blank tapes, and a tape recorder.

"Who is the mix tape for?" Robin asks him only once they're at Steve's house and settled in for the night in front of the fancy stereo in Steve's living room. Robin's called her parents already and told them she was staying with a friend, and they had leftovers for dinner from.

"Just in case. Now, shh," Steve says, and once Robin has properly quieted, he pressed record on the tape recorder and play on the stereo. He's already found the track he wants, so it's just a matter of waiting the song out, pausing the tape recorder quickly, then rewinding the tape. He goes too far back, so his finger just hovers over the record button until Running Up That Hill comes back on, and he repeats the process. Over and over again, until the hour long tape is filled with nothing but one song.

Robin watches him do it in complete silence. She doesn't move or shuffle until after he's paused the recording, stilling again once he hits record. He knows she doesn't understand why, but also that she doesn't need to understand. He knows that she knows he'll explain as soon as he's able.

He's just afraid to say too much right now. He can remember tomorrow; the Pennhurst plan, how it is supposed to go based on what remembers Nancy and Robin saying. Max will bully him into driving her around, and they'll end up at Billy's grave. He'll be ready this time, he already knows the answers they're seeking but he doesn't want to risk too much.

He has a plan. And it'll work. It has too.

Because he can't remember what happens after. Patrick dies, and there's... water? A lake? But why is Patrick at a lake in the dark? He isn't, is the thing. It's like there are two memories overlapping in Steve's mind and he doesn't know which is real. Or if either of them are.

There's a memory of... of Eddie? Eddie talking about Patrick floating but there's also a memory of hearing it on the news, Patrick found dead in his room, murdered the same way as Chrissy and Fred with no sign of forced entry in his house. Both memories feel real, but Steve doesn't know, can't tell, which is.

Robin and he falls sleep wrapped around each other that night.

@i-less-than-three-you @nburkhardt @afewproblems @skepsiss @apomaro-mellow @eddie-munsons-lunchbox @sirsnacksalot @livelifeliketheresnotomorrow @sageclipse @schnukiputz @mbloggotdeletedsothisismybackup @lumoschildextra @juleswashere3 @yet-still-more-banched @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @yearningagain @starlight-archer @chaosgremlinmunson @aol19 @goodolefashionedloverboi @gutterflower77 @moomkin77 @wonderland-girl143-blog @krazyperson @sevenmerrymagpies

#steddie #my fic #time travel au #apocalypse au #butterfly effect au #what was the conclusion wayne came to i hear you ask?#he can see how desperate steve is to help eddie and maybe thinks steves got a crush on his nephew #also where is lucas you might also be asking #Jason cant go on a dangerous manhunt if the man hes hunting is already caged so Lucas doesnt get roped into that #also i see yall questioning the steddie and trust me that it is. will be #just hes in yknow jail for now so steve can't exactly be climbing him like a tree yet. in the spring break parts.#next part however? well. youll see how the end of the world is going

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desi2go · 28 days

Text

Date on ice

pairing: Chan x reader

Warnings: fluff

Author's note: I know it's already warmer (well, here it is!), but I saw a cute video of Chan and Jeongin skating on ice and the way they both skated gave me the idea for this fic! Unfortunately I can't find it anymore, otherwise I would link it here.

The winter in Seoul is cold. The wind from Russia brings coldness, especially around January and February. That time is filled with hot chocolates and marshmallows

You love the winter. It seems that the nature is sleeping and finds strength for the next summer. You loved the snow that sparkles in the cold winter sun like fairy dust, that covers everything like a white protective blanket.

And you liked to spend your day inside on your couch with a hot chocolate with marshmallows in one hand and your favourite book in the other.

Chan on the other hand is more the summer person. He spend his childhood in Australia, at the ocean. He just doesn't like wearing big jackets and the coldness outside. It makes him missing his home even more.

You loved standing on the ice. Since you were a little girl, barely walking, your parents took you to a ice skating rink. It was your family activity each winter. While you grew up, the small amount of time that you spend on ice grew and soon, you took some lessons. You loved skating over the ice and with the training you danced, literally floated over the frozen water.

The winter activity turned into a hobby, a passion. You went on tournaments and due to your ambition, you were often gifted with medals. You knew that it wasn't your hobby anymore, it was something that you wanted to do after college. You wanted to reach the olympics, international tournaments.

You trained and trained but your left knee couldn't stand the permanent strain. That's why you choose to let your dream of being a professional ice skater slip and now worked in a restaurant.

There you had met Chan, your boyfriend. Your relationship was fragile at first due to the busy idol life. But you managed to go through that difficult phase and learned that he has a lot to do.

You both tried to have dates at least every two weeks.

This Saturday, you had agreed to go ice skating. You had told him about your past with the ice skating and due to your work, you didn't go skating anymore. But you were happy to finally go again and take your boyfriend with you.

With your bag with ice skates in one hand and your boyfriends in the other, you entered your favourite place. When Chan had some skates too, you changed into your skating outfit. Chan chuckled as soon as he saw your white cuffs that you pulled over the laces of the skates.

When you looked over, you saw your boyfriend moving his skates, still not tied. Full of expectations, he watched you fiddling with your own. You noticed his stare.

"What? Should I tie them for you?" A big smile spread over his face and a small blush crept up his cheeks.

Fast, you had tied them and you could feel Chan's hot stare as he watched your skilfull hands.

"Alright bub. Let's hit the ice" You didn't even wait, you jumped on the ice in a swift motion while Chan held the border firm and placed a foot on the slippery ice while the other was still on the ground. You already made circles around the whole arena while he was still glued to the safe border.

You looked so majestic, like that was your home. You knew the ice better than anyone else. With long precise steps you navigated through the other people and appeared next to him.

"Everything alright?" You asked and took his hand into yours. "Yes. How can you be so fast? I'm glued to the border and I'm not even five metres away from the entrance!" He pouted and you pulled him away from the edge. He yelped and his grip reinforced as he waddled to you.

"Come, let's walk a bit" You turned around so that you skated in front of him and pulled him with you. He was stunned that you could navigate over the ice backwards. He couldn't even skate forward appropriately. You were a queen on the ice. His queen.

His waddling grew steadier and he finally had fun without being afraid of falling. You let one hand go and skated side by side with him. His hands was clothed in a glove while yours were bare and still radiated a comforting warmth. You were used to the cold after so many hours of training.

You looked so relaxed, like coming home and he was happy to create some memories here. Even though he was much better at swimming, in the water in general, he wouldn't mind to spend more time on the water just to see that smile when you teach him some techniques and tricks.

For two hours you two skated. From time to time you would let go of his hand to do spins and jumps that seems so effortless and feather light. Your movements were precise and fast. Then you would take your place at Chan's side again.

Giggling, he tried to impress you with a small spin. Suddenly, he slipped on the ice, rowing with his arms to try to get balance. But he still landed on his bum. Shocked you skated to him and helped him up as he rubbed his bottom.

"Everything alright?" You asked and couldn't hold in the big smile.

" Yeah, but I think I need to work on my spin" he answered.

For sure, his ass will hurt in the next days and he will definitely get a bruise but making you laugh was worth it.

#stray kids x reader #skz imagines #skz x reader #stray kids fluff #bang chan x reader #bang chan #skz headcanons #skz fluff #skz #stray kids

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atom-writings · 11 months

Note

Nice blog! You wouldn't mind if I took a little chomp out of it yeah? :D

Mmmmm can I request France,Germany,England, Prussia and Russia with an s/o who really likes there accent and voice. S/o would listen to them talk all day just to hear there voice/accent? There just mesmerized by it.

Much appreciated partner and have a great day🙏🙏‼️‼️🔥🔥⁉️⁉️🪑🪑🪑🪑

(France, Germany, England, Prussia & Russia x Reader) S/O that loves their accent!

(Gender Neutral) Headcanons ~ A/N have fun eating my blog but beware. Theres poison sometimes :)

Trigger Warning: None, just fluff!

Oh, you do not need to tell him that. He knows. And he adores how obsessed you are with just his voice. Don’t worry, he won’t tease you too bad

But expect to be woken up a couple of times by him reading you love poems in French. Actually, he’s doing that all the time. Anytime that he can speak to you in French, he’s doing it.

“My beautiful language for a beautiful person, no?”

It’s also pretty obvious that he exaggerates his accent for you. Sure, he’s been speaking English for centuries, but you’d never guess that from how he talks to you. It’s a little childish, but he just can’t get enough of your face whenever he says anything even remotely romantic in that silky voice of his.

Whenever he catches you staring, he can’t do anything but grin, promising himself that he’ll spoil you sometime soon for being so cute.

Ludwig has never really liked his own voice that much, so at least someone does for him. He always complains it’s too harsh and too loud. And years of people judging him for his accent didn’t help that…

But he trusts you completely. If you say you want to hear him, he’ll talk as much as you want. But since you’re not giving him a prompt, you’re hearing about 1870s train logistics. He doesn’t make the rules.

He would try to be all affectionate and sweet like you want him to… but that is really not his forte. He tries! But you’ll just both end up blushing and stuttering and getting nothing done then. If it’s just his handsome accent you want though, you’re all good. He can make a manual on building an IKEA chair sound hot.

He’d rather hear YOU ramble than do so himself. Even if he does love how adorable you are when you’re so infatuated with him.

No surprise there. You’re not the first partner of his to love his voice, and you won’t be the last. Luckily that means he’s got a whole lot of experience, so he knows exactly what to say to melt your heart.

“Come on, Darling, don’t look at me like that. Why don’t we get out of here, just me and you? How about that, Love?”

He’s not much for rambling, much less talking about himself, but he can absolutely fulfil your need for his voice elsewhere. A lot of your nights spent together will be him reading some ancient novel to you, his voice soothing as ever, until you inevitably fall asleep cuddled up next to him.

He must admit, he loves having that power over you. Being able to make you fall in love with him using nothing but his words? You’re just so cute, he can’t resist flustering you on purpose.

Well, of course you do! He’s spent centuries making sure he sounds hot as hell! But… you’re being serious right? You aren’t annoyed by how high-pitched he can get? Ok, thank god.

He is so excited once you tell him that. It’s hard to stop himself from immediately teasing you about it. After all, there isn’t a single sight that’s cuter to him than your pretty face all lost in love for him.

If you’re ever feeling down, he tries to distract you by simply telling you a long, overly complicated story from his past. Which, with those purple eyes fixed on you and a goofy smile plastered across his face, all the while his voice drips with accent, it’s hard to not get distracted.

He loves talking about himself anyway. It’s a good thing you like hearing him. Most people don’t. But that’s just what makes you two meant to be <3

Oh, you like his voice? He’s confused. You’re being serious? … why?

The poor guy is really insecure about his voice. He worries his accent is too strong, too ugly, and his voice is way too high-pitched. It seems like no one likes when he talks… they say he’s rude and weird. So… your adoration for him and how he speaks is a real shock.

Whenever you ask him to talk more, he gets all embarrassed and doesn’t know what to say! Especially if you compliment his accent, then he just freezes up and dismisses you. Anywhere you are, he’ll start talking all quietly and cover his face with his hands. But you can still see him blushing underneath them…

But once he’s used to it, he loves just narrating the things he’s doing. Sometimes you’ll wake up and come downstairs to see him coming up with some silly song about the breakfast he’s cooking you. Learning that you like hearing him has definitely made him include stuff like that in his daily routine.

Plus, now when he wants a reaction out of you… he’ll lean into it. Rolling his r’s dramatically, whispering to you in Russian… when he wants to be, he’s quite a tease.

#hetalia imagines #heta tag #hetalia x reader #ivan tag <3 #arthur tag #ludwig tag #aph russia x reader #hws russia x reader #aph france x reader #aph england x reader #aph germany x reader #aph prussia x reader #hws england x reader #hws france x reader #hws germany x reader #hws prussia x reader #gilbert tag #francis tag

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tide-ways · 8 months

Text

Ghost of a Memory [part I]

I have finished part 1! This is more of an introductory chapter, and is much shorter than the others will be. Once I have part 2 finished, it will be posted. I will keep the same taglist, unless you ask me to remove you. I will also add people onto the taglist for the next part, just leave a comment :>

𝑴𝑨𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻

𝑭𝑨𝑵𝑫𝑶𝑴: COD

𝑷𝑨𝑰𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑮: Ghost x m!reader

𝑮𝑬𝑵𝑹𝑬 & 𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮𝑺: hurt/comfort; male reader; violence, guns, death (not in this part), allusions to torture,

𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑫𝑺: 1.7k

You could feel the quick rotations of the helicopter blades as you flew over the English countryside, bringing you to your new base. You were hardly expecting to stay long, you had a poor track record with that ever since you had become a soldier. Few places but the SAS would willingly take you because of your aggressive and destructive fighting style. Really, it was a miracle you were still a part of the army, and had even managed to stay in the special forces.

You’d used to be a part of the SRR – they did all of the reconnaissance and it was work that fit you well – but you ended up being transferred to the SAS after ‘The Incident’, at your request. Regaining your footing after all that had happened was… difficult, but you managed. You always managed.

You had been transferred to 19 Troop, specializing in mountain operations. You were usually away, helping international troops with their own missions. You spent a good amount of your time in Russia and Canada, before you were abruptly called back at the end of your mission. As soon as the helicopter had touched back down on the ground, you were sent to your Captain’s office. You knew your captain quite well as you saw him quite often.

“(l/n).” He called out seriously, looking at you with disappointment. You were a bit worried for a moment. Was this finally the point that the Special Forces would boot you out? You snapped out of your thoughts when he spoke again. “An international task force has heard about your skills and is looking to recruit you.”

That was… surprising. Your captain could clearly tell, because he took one look at you and spoke again. “I’ll give you until after dinner to think about it. It’s relatively urgent.”

You nodded strictly, saluting to him before turning and leaving the room. It wasn’t the first time you had been invited to join an international force, but they very rarely kept you around. Said you were too much of a liability. You wondered if it was even worth the effort. You were happy enough with what you were doing in 19 Troop, and the SAS was good to you. Then again, there wasn’t really anywhere to go from there if you wanted to stay on the field. You could become an officer, but that would defeat the point of you joining the SAS.

You didn’t want to think about it too hard, though. You did still have until dinner, and you wanted to make good use of that time. Your exit from Canada had been abrupt and disruptive. You weren’t exactly in the middle of an operation with the crew, but you were starting to plan for one. You had been a vital part of their plans, and you felt guilty for leaving them with an empty space. You hoped what you had trained them would help them through it, though you knew the Canadian Special Forces would be able to manage.

You took your time sorting through the belongings you had brought back, taking care to choose what you really needed to keep. You had spent more time with the Canadian soldiers than you thought you would, and they made a good impression on you. As much as you hated to admit it, you would miss them. You weren’t one for sentimentality, though, not after what had happened what seemed like so long ago.

You were snapped out of your memories when you felt the helicopter starting to descend. This was it, then. You mentally steeled yourself to meet your new team, a team you would only end up leaving after they remove you.

It was still a bit of a wait after the helicopter started its descent and eventually landed, though, and you had some time to yourself. You hated when that happened. It always led to thoughts about what happened that night. That night, you had seen unforgivable horrors. Atrocities, carnal sin. It made you want to purge the world of that evil yourself.

You ripped yourself from your thoughts, tearing a hole in the horrible memories before you were consumed entirely by them. It was a fight to get yourself back into service after what happened. Lucky you were a good actor.

You forced yourself to think of the only thing that could distract you from your memories: something worse. The force you were joining was infamous, though very little information was released about it. Task Force 141. You felt sweat gather in your palms as the helicopter approached their main base. You didn’t think you were particularly special yourself, and you wondered why you had been picked to join some of the best special OPs in the world. Apparently there was another SAS operative, maybe you'd be able to get along with him.

You sucked in a breath as the helicopter landed on the soft pad, grabbing the duffel bag you’d brought with you and standing up from the seat. It wasn’t a very comfortable seat, and your legs rejoiced to finally get up after the two-something-hours that you’d been sitting down.

The doors on the sides of the helicopter opened and you let yourself fall out, comfortably landing on your feet. You’d gotten very used to getting out of the helicopters easily, and the motion had become very slick. You still carried yourself like an SRR operative, despite your transfer. It was a habit you’d never broken.

As you walked towards the large concrete building, you saw a man standing there. You figured he was the captain of the task force. If you remembered correctly, he was called Captain Price. You switched your trajectory to him, walking with firm steps as you breezed through the air.

As you approached him, you stopped stiffly and saluted. In a loud voice, you announced “Sergeant (l/n), sir!”

You heard the man chuckle, and you almost felt self conscious until he spoke casually. “At ease, soldier. I’m Captain Price, I’m the captain of Task Force 141.” He announced, speaking in a calm voice. “I’m the one who requested you be transferred here. Thank you for coming.”

You nodded, letting your hand fall from its position at your forehead. You looked around, expecting to see some of your superior officers and other soldiers, but there was no one there. You frowned, wondering why, and the captain seemed to pick up on your confusion.

“I wanted to go over a few of the things in your file. Privately.” He said firmly, looking you in the eye before smiling gently. Those words sent chills down your spine. You didn’t want to have to act more, but it seemed you would have no choice, so you just nodded agreeably as he turned around and started to walk to the building beside you.

You made your way through the twisting halls of the base, looking at the room numbers, though they didn’t suggest much. You had passed by a few busy gyms, and a canteen. It seemed surprisingly busy for a task force. Busier than you were used to. You weren’t a huge fan of working in large teams.

You were eventually brought to a large meeting room with a table and a plethora of empty chairs. At one end of the table, there was a large screen. You took a seat, having another look around the room but finding nothing of note. Finally, the captain spoke up. You had been preparing for this.

“So, soldier, I want to make sure that you’re the right fit for this team. I don’t want any disasters happening because of your trauma.” He said sternly, getting straight into it. At least he didn’t bother with small talk.

“You don’t need to worry about that.” You said coldly, looking him in the eye as you answered. “I’ve already had a psychological evaluation done by a psychiatrist, and she said I was fine to go back out in the field.”

Price shot back almost immediately, like he had dealt with others like you. Maybe this team wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows.

“That doesn’t mean you’re fine to go back out into this field. I’m sure you’ve been briefed on what Task Force 141 covers.”

“I have, and it’s nothing I’ve not done before.” You explained coldly, going back through the motions. It had been a while since you had to put on this act. Before Price could get another word in, you spoke up.

“Trust me, Captain. A little bit of torture isn’t gonna do much to an agent of the SRR. I’ve been trained for much worse.”

The man looked like he wanted to fight back, say something to make you break, but you were completely right. SRR operatives had the most interrogation training out of all the other corps in the British Armed Forces.

“Alright. If you say so. If you’re struggling, though, there’s another guy who’s been through the same thing as you. He can help you.” The man said, though you couldn’t tell if it was more for his own peace of mind or yours. You only scoffed.

“I’ll be sure to stay away from him, then.” You mumbled, rolling your eyes when the captain looked at you with confusion. “People who have been through that aren’t usually very fun to be around. And anyways, no one can help me except for the Rileys, and they’re all dead.”

That shocked Price. He knew Simon Riley was famous as a cold blooded murderer, but as someone who offered help? He almost wanted to say you were too far gone then and there, but there was an edge to your voice he’d rarely seen before.

You didn’t want to stay much longer. The room was plain and the conversation brought up bad memories. You were great at hiding things, but not so much hiding from things. That’s why, instead of hiding from your past, you were hunting its ghosts. Hunting for the last traces of that damned Riley family. Hunting for salvation.

Salvation came at a great price. A price that had already been long since paid.

@imasimpsowhat06

Here is Part II

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daughterofcain-67 · 3 months

Text

𝙾𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝙾𝚞𝚛 𝚃𝚒𝚖𝚎 (𝚙𝚝4) (Edited)

(Soldier Boy x Female Reader)

(masterlist)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: While waiting on Butcher to find the location of the TNT Twins, Hughie starts to get to know Soldier Boy a little bit more. You, however, are still unsure how you even let Ben convince you to be a part of his revenge plot. Hesitant on even going along with him to visit the twins, Butcher finally finds their location.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: mentions of herogasm, threatening Butcher, slightly argumentative reader, I think that might be it?

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫‘𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: Hello everyone! Sorry I haven’t been active this past week. Life has been busy and hectic this past week and a half but I will be posting more parts this week! This is more so a filler chapter than anything but things will be picking up in part 5 which will be out very soon! Thank you all for your patience and support with this story!

This was nuts. Why the hell you let Ben convince you to come along with Butcher and Hughie was beyond you.

Evidently it was just Buther and Hughie. You didn’t know why their friends parted ways but you didn’t ask either - it wasn’t exactly your business and you didn’t really care about the drama that must’ve happened within the group. All you wanted was for Ben to get his revenge over with so they could move on to whatever favor Butcher needed from Ben, no matter how bad of an idea it could have been.

You were sitting at the desk in the hotel room you were sharing with Ben, reading a book you managed to grab from your house. You didn’t know how long you would be away after all so you grabbed some clothes, a few books, and your chest of letters hidden in the trunk of your car. Unfortunately for you, you were finding out that you haven’t been able to focus on the chapters you were reading for the past couple of pages. Well, more than a couple of pages, maybe a couple dozen. So you closed the book and set it on the desk before going to look out of the window.

When you lifted your hands to look through the blinds, you could hear Ben’s voice breaking the silence between the two of you.

“What’s got you so antsy?”

“Everything.”

You heard him let out a hum but then you felt his presence behind you followed by his hands on your hips, “Care to expand on that a little? I’m not a mind reader.”

You rolled your eyes a little as you let your hand go from the blinds.

“I wish you didn’t hold such a nasty grudge against your team. And I wish you weren’t so eager to help someone like Butcher.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean? Darlin, you can’t expect me to let my teammates live after what they’ve done. As far as Butcher, Homelander is just another name on the list I’ve got.”

You turned to him and you looked up at him, “They’re treating you like a mindless killing machine! They’re using the anger you’ve got against your team and using it to their advantage.”

“Sweetheart, I know what I’m doing and what I’m capable of.”

“Do you? You just got these abilities from the Russians and you’re the one that blew up that building! You killed nineteen people Ben! Nineteen!”

Ben took his hands off you and his brows narrowed as he took a step back, “You know I didn’t mean to hurt those people, Y/N. When I killed Countess, that was direct. Other people were there and they didn’t suffer.”

“But you still don’t know how you lost control on that building Ben. What if someone from Vought catches you? What if someone from Butcher’s team turns on you? What if things go south and you get sent back to Russia?” You questioned, trying to see the reality of different outcomes.

“You know damned well I can take care of myself.”

“But you didn’t in Nicaragua.”

You saw a change in Ben’s eyes when he looked at you. Some sort of betrayal or some sort of hurt that came to his ego. You weren’t a fool, you knew his pride was definitely one of his many problems. But it still hurt you to have him look at you like that.

“You know what, I don’t need you to doubt my capabilities. If you really have a problem with this whole thing then I don’t see why you agreed to come along.”

You watched as Ben sat down at the table to eat some of the food Butcher and Hughie got them earlier. You frowned before you walked behind him and carefully placed your hands on his shoulders.

“I don’t doubt your capabilities. You’re the strongest man I know, and you’ve accomplished so much in your lifetime. What I am doubting is your experience with this new power specifically. And I’m only saying what I am to help you keep everything in mind, to help look out for you.”

He let out a sigh and looked down at his hands and you could feel his shoulders get a little less tense as you spoke again, “I just don’t want anyone to take you away again.”

“You don’t know that they can even do that again now that I’m capable of that kind of destruction.”

“You’re right, I don’t know that. But still… if it were up to me, I’d say kill Payback on your own. Let Homelander be their problem.”

“They’re useful to us, Y/N. They can lead us to where the remaining members of Payback are. Then I can kill them off. They won’t do that for free. Help always comes at a price.”

“That doesn’t sound like you at all. You never needed a team even if you were a part of one. What makes you say they can be useful?”

“Come on, Y/N. You know the runt called me out, asking me if I knew what the fuck a GPS. And what the hell is an internet or a Bluetooth? I still say he made that shit up until you showed me what the damned thing was. How the hell am I supposed to work one of those?”

You sighed a little before you let go of his shoulders and sat back down at the desk to pick up that book you were attempting to focus on beforehand.

Ben looked over at you, and he knew you were frustrated with him on this whole thing. There was just some things you didn’t understand. You weren’t there when they put all of that radiation into his body, you didn’t know the kind of pain he went through while the Russians experimented on him.

So this was his choice, and his alone. As much as he loved you, he didn’t need your input. Not on this.

When the door opened, Ben looked up and noticed it was Butcher and the runt.

“Hey. You two bring the good stuff?” Ben asked, Butcher handed him a bag that had a pill bottle and some whisky. As he poured a couple of the pills on the table, he noticed from the corner of his eye you rolled your eyes and buried yourself deeper into your little book.

Now wasn’t really the time to focus on your disapproval of the methods he had, he had bigger fish to fry and the sooner he killed his teammates, the sooner he could get this Homelander thing over with and he could finally move on and find somewhere else to stay with you.

“Have either of you found those damned twins?”

“Excuse me…” You got up and left and walked out of the hotel room. Where you were going, Hell if Ben knew. But he let out a sigh and he looked back at the two who were trying to help him.

“Not yet. My sources aren’t as fast as I’m hoping they’d be. I’m just dropping the lad off and gathering more info where I can.” Butcher said and he opened the door once more.

“I’ll be back when I’ve got some news for ya, Mate. Won’t be too much longer now.”

Ben watched Butcher shut the door, leaving Hughie there. Probably to supervise him so he wouldn’t blow up the damned hotel. Those assholes must’ve failed to realize Ben was a hero back in the day and he didn’t need to be babysat. It was ridiculous. But then Ben looked over at Hughie.

“Are you sure all of that new bullshit techno-crap will help us find the rest of my team?” He asked skeptically as Hughie broke out some laptop.

“Well, it did help us find Crimson Countess for you.” The runt reminded and Ben rolled his eyes, but he noticed Hughie looked over at Ben.

“What was it like? Being a soldier I mean.”

“Ahh you don’t really want to know. It’s not like you would have lasted that long in any war anyway.” Ben said and he got up from the table so he could watch some television. He ended up finding one of his movies was on so he figured he’d leave the channel there.

“Please, Soldier Boy? I know I’m not much, Hell I’m still trying to prove to Butcher I can at least do one or two things right but I’m failing miserably.”

Ben sighed a little, growing a little frustrated by the boy’s neediness. It was honestly a little pathetic. But alas, he caved and started to speak, “Bein’ on the field is a Hell all it’s own, Kid. These little movies here? That’s not what it’s like at all.”

“Then why film them if that’s not really what it’s like?”

“I was involved with Vought, why do you think they wanted me to do these damned movies with a bunch of unprofessionals like those idiot twins?”

“Money..”

“Bingo. Anyway… I lead the hundred-sixteenth on the Omaha Beach, the Eagle’s Nest… Hell I was even in Afghanistan before we ended up with out asses in the air. Fighting isn’t easy, and you see a lot of shit you don’t want to. People get killed and there have even been times where I have wondered if it was all worth it. It really tests how much of a man a person can be when he’s face to face with death and Hell itself.” Ben said as he poured himself a glass of whisky in one of those silly cups that had some supes on it.

“What’s worse is when people forget about you… I fought for this damned country and all I got was left to rot by my own fucking team, forgotten in the end.”

“Y/N never forgot about you.” Hughie said, “In fact, right after Vought announced your supposed death, there were a lot of people who were in denial. In the beginning there were a lot of conspiracies and Y/N was a part of it. She wasn’t the face of it, but Starlight found some records of her involved with some protests saying Vought had something to do with your disappearance.”

Ben looked over at Hughie and listened, “Even when those protests dwindled down over the decades, there’s rumors of Y/N working on articles under some pseudonym asking for the proof of whatever weapon could have killed you when the world knew you were immune to practically everything. No one knows if those articles were ever published or if Vought took them down before she had the chance to get them out into the world. But for a really long time, Y/N always had a hope you were still around.”

Ben couldn’t help but smile to himself. He always wondered if there was a point where you had given up on him, but the confirmation from the runt made something swell in his chest. A part of him still couldn’t believe that you agreed to go with him despite you opposing everything about his mission.

“She’s always been one to combat Vought even before she retired. She never wanted to be a part of Payback when a position was offered to her. But I think it was mostly because they thought I could keep her in line with their expectations. A little spitfire.”

“She means a lot to you… doesn’t she? She told us her relationship with you was a complicated one.” Hughie commented and Ben looked over at the kid yet again before he took a sip of his whisky.

“She wasn’t wrong when she said things were complicated. I knew her before Payback was even a thought.” He admitted.

1945

Ben had just finished up a speech at a banquet for Vought. They were through in a celebration now that the war was over and since he as the one that went into the Eagle’s Nest and helped the war finally meet its demise, Edgar thought it was necessary for him to give a speech. Naturally Ben didn’t really like the wording of any of it but Edgar wasn’t one to hear his complaints.

As Ben finished up and the crowd applauded, he noticed near the back of the crowd, there was a beautiful woman there standing with some average looking loser. You looked like you weren’t exactly happy to be there since your arms were crossed and he wondered what your problem was.

After the applause died down and he left the stage, he walked over to you and the man beside you, “Hey, you two. I don’t think I’ve met either of you before.”

“Oh Soldier Boy. It’s an honor to meet you, Sir. That was a wonderful speech you gave. Thank you for all that you’ve done for this country. We would truly be at a loss without you.” The man said and Ben could see you rolling your eyes at the way the man seemed to be sucking up to him.

“Um, thanks. It’s an honor but the real heroes are the ones that are on the field seeing combat.” Soldier Boy insisted.

“Yes, Sir. Anyway, my name is Oliver Anderson. This is my fiancé Y/N L/N. Mr. Edgar and Liberty asked us to be here. Liberty told Mr. Edgar about Y/N’s abilities and we were told to come tonight with some record of her abilities.” Oliver explained.

“Oh? And what abilities might those be?”

“She has the ability to manipulate the earth at her will. She can cause earthquakes, cause cities to fall, open gaps in the earth, pull up boulders from the ground like mini islands and cause a lot of damage. She’s really something.” Oliver said and Ben chuckled.

“A sweet little angel like you moving pebbles around? That’s sweet.” Ben said, unable to believe that sort of power.

“Another ability I’ve got is to grin and bear arrogant bullshit like that speech of yours.” You finally spoke and Ben was a little stunned at the attitude you gave.

“A little spitfire, aren’t you?”

“Oh Soldier Boy! I see you’ve met Y/N.” Liberty said with a wide smile on her face.

“Isn’t she swell? I think that she could be really great for us if we can just get her to be a part of the agency.” Liberty said and Ben lifted a brow.

“I suppose she could do well enough if she learned to watch her tone. Good luck convincing Edgar to let you in with the attitude issues.”

“Yeah and with the amount of arrogance you’ve got and that big ego, you’re bound to be compensating for something that won’t last that long.”

“Shit… So she wasn’t exactly fond of you, huh?” Hughie asked and Ben shook his head a little, finding it funny if he were completely honest.

“No. But I wasn’t too fond of her either. She acted like she had too much of an issue with Vought’s authority, and my authority. But we were both young and over time things got better and we were more civil. But later on, she seemed to hold me accountable in a way that Countess never did. Now I know why Countess didn’t care. I guess she was adding up the reasons to help them get rid of me in the end.” Ben said.

“So if she wasn’t a part of Payback, how did you get to interact with Quake?”

“Her fiancé wanted her to be a part of the agency, so did Edgar and Liberty. But Quake didn’t want to be in the public eye all the time. So Oliver, the fiancé, settled for some publicity to get her out there because he was out there for the fame and she got a fraction of what Liberty and I made since. Too many conditions and fine print from the negotiation and I don’t really know all the details.”

“What happened to the fiancé? I didn’t hear anything about her getting married.”

“Died three years after Quake started her career as one of Vought’s supes.”

“So what made her hate you a little less?”

Ben tried to think of anything that would have made you change your mind about him. But he knew that he hadn’t changed too much in the time you knew him, so it was hard to tell. “That may be something you ask her yourself kid.”

You went out to your car that you had taken from the house and you grabbed a sweater before you threw it over your head. You hadn’t realized Butcher had exited the hotel room until you heard him walking down the stairs. Just as he was walking to his van, you raised your hand and suddenly, both of his feet were trapped as the asphalt from the road beneath him trapped his feet firmly. He wouldn’t be going anywhere unless you released your grip.

“Oy! What’s the big idea?!”

You walked over to him while he was struggling to break free and you stood right in front of him.

“What’s the deal here, Love? Don’t want me finding those twins for your lover boy?”

You turned your hand up again and the ground that was wrapped around his feet and ankles suddenly released only for a gap to fall in the ground. Butcher fell into the hole and the ground nearly swallowed him up and the only thing left visibly was from his neck up, so you could speak to him.

You squatted down and looked down at him.

“If you, the kid, or any of your little friends try anything funny with Soldier Boy… if any of you even whisper a word about betraying him or take him away again, Homelander will be the very least of your concerns.” You said, voice calm yet cold while your hand slowly formed into a fist as the ground started to squeeze his body.

“Are we clear?”

Butcher was struggling to breathe and it felt like his lungs would be crushed if he didn’t give some kind of response. He wasn’t expecting this on his way out of the hotel. But he nodded nonetheless, “Like crystal.”

With that, you released your grip and the ground spit him up so he could make his way back to the van. Although you could see in his eyes that he knew you were serious. You just hoped Butcher would heed your warning, and that his friends would have better sense than to try anything. You watched him get up and dust himself off as if he were trying to act like nothing happened while he walked over to the van to get in contact with whoever was tracking down the TNT Twins.

Then you decided to go upstairs once more. When you entered the hotel room, you saw Ben watching his old movies on the TV in the middle of some rent about how Bing Crosby was America’s dad. If only he knew… then again, he still had a lot of catching up to do. But when you shut the door, you saw Ben look up at you.

“Where’d you run off to?”

“I was grabbing something from the car.” You said plainly, still a little frustrated about this entire endeavor.

About an hour later, Butcher finally came back.

“Got ‘em. They’re in Vermont.” Butcher said and he held up a GPS, “Got their location right here.”

“Alright! Finally we’ve got some progress.” Ben said and he looked at you, “You ready to suit up?”

You looked up at him and you saw that he really wanted you to come along with him on this. You wished you could support him completely on this trip. You supported Ben wanting his revenge, that was reasonable. You just didn’t want this to be another step towards Butcher and Hughie getting their goal as they treated Soldier Boy just as some sort of weapon for their own advantage against Homelander.

You looked away and at the TV, “I’m retired, remember?”

You figured Ben was rolling his eyes and when you looked over at Butcher and Hughie, they were getting out some vials of green liquid. You lifted a brow and wondered what that could have been but it didn’t really matter much to you. However, while you watched them, you felt a hand on your shoulder and when you looked up, you saw Ben standing there.

“Look, I know you’re retired. I know you hate this whole thing. I’m not asking you to hurt anybody. Just want you to be a part of it with me.” He said in sort of a hushed tone while the other two men were shooting up whatever it was into their bloodstreams.

Letting out a sigh, you let your muscles relax. You thought about it for a moment before finally nodding, “Fine. I’ll go along for the ride. But I’m not getting involved. Especially since we both know what time of year it is.”

“Wait, what time of year is it?” Hughie asked, you hated how curious the kid was about some things, especially the things he shouldn’t know about.

“Herogasm. Those twins picked it up after Soldier Boy was presumed dead. It’s honestly really disgusting.”

“Hey! A little fun never hurt anyone.” Ben tried to defend himself since he was the founder.

“Uh huh… well my point still stands, I’m not going in that building while that mess is going on.” You stated before you picked up Ben’s folded uniform and handed it to him.

“Go suit up.”

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