#Christoph waltz x reader

[keravnous]

wanna go where the girls are young and dumb? ; christoph waltz x fem!reader (smut, 18+)

being c. waltz's sugarbaby - the playlist

Your mother dragged you along to southern France for the summertime. Thus, you are forced to spend your spring break with your stepdad.

warnings: stepdad!christoph, lowkey sugardaddy!christoph, age gap (the reader is in her early 20s, christoph is in his 50s), finally putting my native language to good use, daddy kink, light choking, power play, riding/reverse cowgirl, fingering, pet names, name calling, unprotected sex, slight cumplay and breeding, multiple orgasms, viagra (unrealistic effects), controlling/possessive!christoph, bratty!reader, christoph's a little dark in this so heed the warning, he really just wants to wreck you he's been waiting long enough

translations: Liebes - love; Na, sieh mal einer an wer uns heute noch mit ihrer Anwesenheit beehrt - Well, someone's seen fit to grace us with their presence; Oh, das machen wir aber nicht - Oh, we won't do that, won't we

word count: 11,4k

choosing a gif for this was really just playing what's my favourite waltz era

the title is from the song young & dumb by cigarettes after sex

thank you v for not giving up on me <3

"Na, sieh mal einer an, wer uns heute noch mit ihrer Anwesenheit beehrt. Where have you been?", your stepdad's voice is hard enough to cut steel and you freeze dead in your tracks, white heels dangling from your hand. Well, fuck - so much for sneaking back in quietly.

The huge wooden doors to the living room are opened - and you can see Christoph sitting on the sofa facing the lobby, in the shadows of the room, dimly lit by candles. Your feet are pressing against the polished marble, warm skin on cool stone. It's still hot outside, only a small breeze ruffling the leaves of the trees and rolling in through the opened windows, toying gently with the hem of your nearly see-through, white linen dress.

This place could easily be heaven on earth - the old, 18th century countryside bastide with its lush citrus and olive trees, near a cliff at the water and a sleepy, small town nearby - weren't it for the devil himself.

Your vision zeroes in on him - your mother's boyfriend and soon to be husband - and you try your best to glare into the dim abyss of the barely lit living room.

"Why do you care?", you spit, ready to storm upstairs. You just want some peaceful silence, not whatever the fuck he's on about.

And, like he can sense what you are about to do, like he sees the way your calf-muscles twitch, he says softly: "Don't you dare moving an inch, Liebes." His velvety voice drips with acid honey; a threat in candy-wrappers. A frost descends with his voice, making you shiver.

"I am not -"

"Where have you been?", Christoph asks again, voice menacingly calm. He sounds like he knows.

Like he knows, that you have been out to get laid.

You had met a pretty, young man and shared a few flirtatious looks with him at the farmer's market just yesterday. Your French was sufficient to get the necessities across and thus, he was quick to grasp that you wanted to fuck. Sneaking out of the house around 10 you rode your bike to his place, only to find out that what he had to offer in looks - long, dark, and curly hair and eyes like the ocean - he lacked in experience. He had been clumsy and after he tried to finger you for what seemed to be an eternity of aimless thrusting and unpassionate rubbing, you had told him to fuck off and drove back home. You just want to go upstairs, get yourself off, shower and go to sleep.

But you can't just say that, can you? And thus, you blink, unnerved, hissing: "You are not my fucking father."

You wish you could see his face, see his reaction, but it is hidden by flickering shadows. You decide that tonight's not the night to be the pawn in one of his strange games. Thus, you suck in a deep breath, before eventually sighing: "I am going upstairs. Good night."

"Ah ah ah", he scolds and you can see him taking a drag of his cigarette, the tip of it gleaming before he is exhaling smoke that curls into the air, the thick mist illuminated by the flickering glow of the candles, "Is that a way to speak to the man who keeps you in college?"

"I am not having this conversation right now."

"But I will", he raises his eyebrows and you feel glued to the spot, helpless.

Something prevents you from just leaving. You do not know what it is, but you recall a few encounters in which he had a similar effect on you - where he intimidated you into submission. Another shiver crawls up your spine at the thought.

"Step inside here for a moment, please", and as you don't move, his voice turns cold - like you are in real fucking trouble, "I won't be asking you again."

Making a great show out of your reluctant-ness, you groan, rolling your eyes, before you unwillingly drop your shoes onto the marble. Entering the living room, you sigh audibly, throwing your head back a little in exasperation, coming to a halt only a few steps into the room.

Christoph seems bored by your behaviour, deliberately stomps his cigarette out in the antique ashtray before crossing his arms. He's wearing linen, too - in a fruitless attempt to combat the heat - the first few buttons of his shirt opened. You can see the greying chest hair peeking through from where you are standing, dusted on his skin like silver threads.

You are annoyed - annoyed by the pretty young Frenchman who turned out to be an absolute disastrous disappointment, annoyed by being stuck here in the middle of nowhere, annoyed by the heat, annoyed by Christoph looking at you the way he does, annoyed by the way his strict gaze has your stomach tingling.

Annoyed by how pretty he looks in the golden candle light.

The thought hits you like a chair to the head and you sway a little, hands gripping the edges of the armchair in front of you. You swallow, trying to fight the thought. The light toys with his features, has his eyes gleaming and the grey hair on his temples looking like fluid silver.

You can feel his gaze roaming your body, burning and heavy, as his eyes wander up and down - taking in both, your curves, and your underwear visible through the white linen.

"Come closer."

You do not want to. You want to hide behind the chair, safe from the confusing mind games he likes to play.

But you don't. Instead, like a puppet on his strings, you take two steps forward and into the room, standing there uselessly. Disarmed, your only weapon left is your tongue.

"What the fuck do you want?", it comes out rude, brash. Christoph chuckles, unimpressed. For a second, you two just stare each other - a silent battle of authority and obstreperousness.

"Closer", is all he says, with the steadiness of a victory.

"I don't have time for this", your voice breaks, irritated and a little unsteady around the edges. Christoph looks at you, unfazed but something small changes. It's in his eyes, something that grows stern and unrelenting. If your little display of brattiness a few minutes earlier was a joke to him, your behaviour now was an insult.

And thus, a little intimidated by him, you comply, carefully taking a few steps forward until only a couple long strides part the two of you.

It does not seem to satisfy him.

"Closer."

You furrow your brows and close the gap, mere inches between your and his knee. He looks up at you, eyes cold.

"That's it. Sit", you blink dumbly as Christoph pats his thigh, his tone light in an odd, uncanny contrast to the way he looks at you.

Alright, no. Absolutely not.

You aren't sure if he's joking. It must be a sick joke. Maybe he finds it funny: his adult stepdaughter sitting on his lap. You do not move.

You are certain, he will break any second - for Christ's sake, he's an actor - he's just joking. He will break. His lips will curl up any second now --

Looking at his serious face, stern gaze boring deep deep into your soul, you grow certain that he is indeed serious. Very serious.

You gulp. "I am not doing this. This is so fucking inappropriate."

"And I am not discussing this. Sit."

God knows, Christoph isn't - never was - very patient. And you can feel it, too; he oozes with it, the way his gaze grows cold as ice and you nearly stumble over your own feet as your body gives in. He is fucking intimidating, especially when the façade of the European gentleman crumbles, drops, like it does right now - leaves you wondering, what he is capable of. And you do not want to find out. Thus, your brain barely has enough time to fight it or to reason with you, you step closer and sink down on his lap. You legs dangle over his left knee while you avoid his gaze.

Let's get this fucking over with then.

"There you go, that wasn't so hard, now, was it?"

"N-no", you shake your head, feeling the heat of his body radiating through both of your linen clothes. It should feel odd, and maybe it does just a little, sitting on your fucking stepfather's lap like this, but -- it also doesn't feel that bad. It is strangely comforting, with his rich, warm scent now wrapping you in. You have always liked his perfume - a subtle wooden scent, of vetiver and a subtle splash of mint. Sublime, sophisticated.

One of his slender, large hands wraps around your hips, holds you in place, the other gently takes your hand, fingers brushing over yours.

"I -- where's my mother?", you hold onto it like a lifeline.

"Asleep." And there it goes - the lifeline slips out of your hands and you drown in the dark, deep sea that is his presence, all light out of reach as you sink deeper, nothing else remaining but him. Still, you can't help but notice that his voice sounds cold, distant, and you wonder why.

You recall something your mother had told you just days before the flight to southern France. Her voice echoes in your skull as you remember sitting in her spacious living room, picking out a few dresses for her to wear on vacation. "He's not even touching me anymore, honey, I don't know -" - "Ew, Mom! I don't wanna know, my god!"

You wonder, if their little paradise is already crumbling, turning ugly around the edges, and a part of you wishes for it to be true. You want him gone. But there's also a small voice in the back of your head that panics at the thought. You like your life like this - you can't deny the fact that he keeps you afloat financially, that whatever you want or need - you don't even have to ask for it, he just buys it. Like it's nothing. It's comfortable and easy and you would most likely miss it.

No - you are certain you would. Life's never been that easy for you.

It's fucked up, really. You still remember meeting him, and in the beginning, you got along just fine. Blimey, even.

Getting to know him started off well. Your mother had met him at the theatre while he had been working there and despite her being shy around him, he quickly convinced her to Just try it. The first time you had met Christoph in person was at a dinner at your mother's place during Christmas break and he had been so charming, so soft and well-spoken that he had made you feel right at ease, even though you were sitting across someone so familiar with the limelight and the high society of Hollywood.

It had been nice. You found out that he was recently divorced, with children around your age. You told him about college and your future goals. It had been homely and down to earth, just nice.

And thus, you didn't think much of it as last year's spring break rolled around, returning to your childhood and now their part time-shared Los Angeles home, as he was knocking on the door of your old teenage bedroom. "It's just a little something I got you - a special gift for my new stepdaughter, perhaps? The sale's lady said it would be - quite fitting - for a young woman your age." And Christoph had been so so charming that you didn't think much of it, as you unwrapped the large box.

Inside had been a set of lingerie, made of fine, white lace with frills. The soft fabric had felt and looked expensive and you had gasped - the set so pretty that for a short while, you had forgotten how inappropriate it was for him to gift you such things.

As you finally, after returning to your dorm and showing the gift to your roommate ("Girl, that's just creepy."), came to realize just how wrong it was, a sleek beige box awaited you on your bed one night in the dorm as you returned from your classes. Inside had been a Chanel dress, all pale-pink, flowers and bows ("Shit, that one's kind of pretty").

Christoph had kept sending you gifts: jewellery, dresses, lingerie. You dutifully called every single time and thanked him and he usually only chuckled, stating that it was nothing. You know you should have told your mother. It felt off and you knew that it was, too.

But you just didn't.

Unbeknownst to you, he was testing the waters. Every time you'd see him from then on, he would put you through agonizingly long inquiries about what you did on campus, who you were seeing. He would make it painfully obvious that he was checking your credit card billings and whenever there was something out of the ordinary, he would bring it up casually in the following conversation.

You remember going out with some guy from your lecture, meeting at a place you had never been at before. The date had gone horrible and to not lead him on, you had paid for yourself - even though he insisted otherwise. Christoph had enjoyed seeing you squirm, bathed in your shame and uneasiness, as he asked you if the drinks were as horrible as he believed them to be.

That's when the tables kind of turned. You figured that he was just a rich and controlling asshole that had barged into your life, had belittled you and had ruined your fucking peace. Maybe he was an award-winning actor but to you, that didn't matter.

You were fucking glad, that he kept the relationship to you mother out of the public eye. You didn't even want to imagine the media attention. You didn't even want to imagine what he had to say about you - "My stepdaughter? Oh, she's just whoring about, that unthankful little girl, don't you worry about her."

His mellow voice rips you out of your memory. "So, what are we doing about you breaking my rules tonight?"

You nearly burst out a laugh - you are in your twenties; you are allowed to do whatever the fuck you want. His made up, bullshit rules do not apply to you - quite frankly, up until now, they did not even fucking exist to you. He never told you there were any in the first place.

Not that you would have cared, anyways.

"You have no authority over me", you say, but doesn't come out half as cool as you wanted it to. Christoph's lips curls into a smile, gaze wandering over your face. His fingers brush over yours and then he leans in, voice low:

"We both know, that is not what this is about."

Something in your stomach tingles and you want to rip it out with both hands. "What-", you whisper, seriously confused.

"I have seen what little - well, shall we call them movies, darling? - you watch when you're alone", he purrs and then smiles, all dimples and small lines around his eyes, flashes his white teeth at you. A shiver runs down your spine.

You blink dumbly. What? Jesus Christ, please no - oh no. Oh shit.

Mortification burns high on your cheeks; your skin grows warm and red with it. You immediately know what he's talking about and his invasion of your privacy has your head swimming.

"You checked my fucking browser history?", you blurt out.

"Checked", he huffs, seemingly amused, "If you leave your phone laying around unlocked--" Christoph shrugs, gestures helplessly as if he's trying to justify eating ownerless chocolates.

You can feel your gut sinking. "Y-you--", you can't help but wonder how much he's seen, what exactly he's seen. You can't help your mind from wandering there - wandering to what he thought, if he liked what he saw. Stop it, fucking stop it.

"I--?", Christoph smiles smugly, raising an eyebrow.

You wonder if he saw the countless videos of older men fucking younger women, making them beg and cry, teaching them manners. You remember one porn you have watched plenty of times - the one of a greying man tossing a young woman around, ripping her underwear apart, slapping her face and tits and railing her until she was crying, gripping her hair and spitting in her face.

You remember how deep you had plunged your fingers into your tight cunt, squeezing around them at the thought of an eloquent and handsome older man railing you until you couldn't walk, having his way with you for his pleasure, and his alone. Every single time you watched that one porn you came hard, harder than the time before, draining your sheets with your squirt until it ran down your legs. As fucked up as it is, just the memory of it has your pussy aching right in this moment, wetness pooling between your legs.

Shame crawls up your spine at the thought that he knows - that he has seen the frequency of it popping up in your browsing history. Maybe he had even clicked on it, watched it a little, indulged in your secret little fantasy. The thought has your cheeks burning red with humiliation, but there's also something else, something primal clawing at your insides, making your lower stomach tingle.

"This is none of your business", your voice is small and quiet, your eyes avoiding his drilling gaze.

"Oh, but what if it is?", Christoph's eyes gleam mischievously.

"Excuse me?", you blurt out, heart racing in your chest.

"Mh well", he weighs his head from one side to the other a little, as if he's carefully considering a thought, "You know, if you wanted what you saw in those little movies you could've just asked me?"

He says it so nonchalantly, as if he's talking about buying some milk. You blink, completely speechless.

"Do you want to know why? Why you could've just asked me?", and you nod, head swimming a little, "Because I do not want some dirt-poor, hicktown-boy touching what is mine."

Your breath hitches, and he shrugs. "There's no need for you to compensate your fantasies elsewhere any longer, Liebes, hm?", his voice is soft, dark and deep, like soft silk wrapping you in, "I can give you exactly what you crave."

It feels like your brain has just blown a fuse, blinking at him dumbly. His lips tilt up, one of his hands brushing over your knee. "You just have to say it, darling. Just say the word", and you feel like drowning in the grey sky of his eyes, loins tingling, "I can make you feel good, better than the young men can."

You swallow, excitement bubbling up in your stomach, hitching your breath. It's not like you haven't thought about it, about him - the memory buried deep, deep in the darkest corner of your brain.

You should say no. This is not okay, it will hurt your mother. It's not right. It is inappropriate, at best.

But you are also so fucking horny still, your whole body aching for a touch and the way he looks at you - your fucking stepdad who's a full-blown, silvery 30 years older than you - has tingles spreading through your limbs, fire spreading in your loins. Fuck it.

"Y-yes", you whisper instead of doing the right thing - the spirit willing but the flesh weak -,"Yes, please."

And then, he leans in.

Christoph's kiss is soft and firm, and goosebumps roll over your skin at the thought that it doesn't feel foreign or odd, like if it isn't the first time, he kissed you. It feels a lot like coming home, returning to a familiar touch - it's the way he grabs your waist, mostly, like he just knows how to touch you.

His hand brushes over the small of your back, tips gently stroking your warm skin through your dress, before snaking around your waist and pulling you closer - just as his tongue brushes over your lower lip. The other crawls up your leg, grabs the flesh of your thigh, gropes you and feels you up.

You part your lips obediently, letting Christoph's tongue slip past, brushing over yours. He tastes like cigarettes and liquor and you inhale deeply through your nose - his scent wafting around you, rich, and deep, and sophisticated.

One of your hands comes up, cups his cheek, and pulls him closer. You have never been kissed like this before, never with so much verve, so much lust. He kisses like only a man his age does, like he has tasted a hundred women, but decided you tasted best.

The hand on your leg sneaks higher, and you spread your legs needily, allowing it to slip past and between your thighs. Christoph wastes no time, his index-finger pressing against your pussy, gently rubbing it along your panty-clad folds. You are wet already; the fabric damp and you can feel your loins going up in flames as he rubs you through the thin lace.

Christoph eventually breaks the kiss, has you panting against his mouth, his lips curl up in a smug smile. His fingers dance of your cunt, gently circling your clit through your lace string. "Those boys never treat you right, do they?", he is right, he always is, has you gasping quietly, rocking your hips against his digits, "Only I get to touch you, from now on. Do you understand?"

And you nod, mind already a little hazy, nothing more important than the pulling in your stomach and the wetness between your legs. "Yes", you sigh, leaning into his touch.

"Yes --? You will address me properly", his other hand grabs your chin, "That's certainly not hard to do, now, is it?"

You swallow, your cheeks turning red once more as he digs deep into your fantasies. "Yes, Daddy", you say quietly, the word heavy on your tongue, fresh arousal flooding your cunt.

Christoph hums, visibly satisfied, thumb caressing your jaw and a soft gaze wandering over your face, takes you in, before it grows cold again, as he pulls his hands away.

"Let Daddy see what's his, then", and you follow his stern command.

Hooking your legs over his thighs you practically present yourself to him, the soft velvet cushions pressing against your calves as your back sinks against his chest - the soft material of your dress pooling between your spread legs. Christoph's hands roam over your body - from your hips up up up, brush over your stomach and then cup your tits through your flowy linen dress. His grip is firm and he squeezes them a little, making them spill out of your bra.

You gasp, looking down at his hands and watching the way they fondle your tits, pulling the hem of your dress down and hooks the fabric underneath your breasts. Being so lewdly exposed to him, reduced to being a pretty object to admire and to fondle with, has your head swimming, sparks shooting down your thighs.

"I'll show you off, hm, my pretty little girl? What do you think?", he whispers, one of his slender, large hands cupping your left tit and twisting your nipple between his fingers, "Taking you with me everywhere, let everyone see just how beautiful you are." You gasp, nodding frantically at the thought of being his pretty and expensive little arm-candy - all dolled up and looking pretty for him on the red carpet, adorned in shining jewellery and flowing dresses.

"Let's take this off, shall we?", Christoph tugs at the linen dress and helps you out of it, tosses it to the ground carelessly. You can feel his gaze roaming over your body as he looks over your shoulder, feel heat creeping up your cheeks as you suddenly realize that you wearing one of the lingerie sets, he had gifted you a couple of weeks ago.

A low growl leaves his throat, has the hairs on your arms standing up. "Have you been wearing this for him?", he sing-songs catatonically, his index finger hooks underneath the strap of your string, lets it snap back against your skin.

You have, but it makes you feel stupid now. Childish. Like you have done something laughable. Shame bubbles in your stomach and you feel the urgent need to explain yourself to him: "Y-yes, but--"

"Sh, be quiet", Christoph says softly, his hands casually making quick work of your bra, unclasping it, pulling the strings down your arms, and tossing it into the darkness of the room, "It's fine. You didn't know any better, did you, Liebes?"

"N-no, I didn't", you squeal, the cool air brushing over your hardened nipples, making you shiver while his hands run down your body.

"And do you think, it's fair that he gets to see you all dolled-up like this? In something I have bought you?"

Your teeth catch your lower lip as you shake your head. "Right", his thumb brushes over the strap of your lace string, "And why is that?"

You swallow. You know what Christoph wants to hear and you might just be very willing to give it to him. "Because I belong to you", you say quietly, your stomach fluttering after the words left your mouth.

"That's right", his thumb toys with the lace trimming of the string, "You always have, haven't you?"

You blink. "Huh?"

"Don't be stupid, now."

"I -- I don't-", and he tsks at your aimless stuttering.

"My pretty little airhead", Christoph coos, "Why do you think I bagged your mother?", and suddenly - it clicks. Like a heavy lock falling shut.

You remember the first day of rehearsal at the theatre. It had been his first day there and you had driven your mother, who was responsible for the stage designs, to work since she still had a broken thumb from working on the furniture and was pumped up on painkillers. Saying your goodbyes, you had been seeing him standing a few feet away, smiling at the two of you. You had paid it no mind - especially later, since he ended up going out with your mother. But he hadn't been smiling over the situation, he had been smiling at you. You. Not your mom.

The realization hits you like a freight train, leaves you breathless. "I always get what I want."

"Oh", you make dumbly, mouth agape a little, while his fingers dance over your panty-clad pussy.

"You are just a dumb little baby, aren't you?", for a split second his hand leaves you, only to come down rather hard, as he gives your cunt a firm slap, "I think, I might have to fuck some sense into you."

You squeal, a sharp gasp escaping your lips but you can't help it, as you feel fresh wetness pooling between your legs, rocking your hips against the palm of his hand. "Yeah, I thought so", he sounds rather pleased, lips brushing over the shell of your ear, "Nothing more on your dumb little brain than getting off, hm?"

"Y-yes", you croak, flinching as he strikes your aching cunt another time, moaning sweetly, "Daddy - fuck - p-please!"

"I know just how you feel", his other hand grabs your tit roughly, gropes you, pinching your nipple, "You made Daddy jack off to you so often, princess. Can't wait to see if you're really that tight."

And with that, he unceremoniously pulls your string to the side and you sigh, as your plush and hot skin gets exposed to the cool air.

One of his fingers immediately brushes over your slick folds, and you can hear him hum, a low sound that ignites your lust, has you gasping softly.

"Mh, so wet already, aren't you?", you are, you can hear it. You can hear your juices squelching as his finger runs up and down your cunt, circling your hole and giving your clit the slightest bit of stimulation. Your whole body tingles with it, and you look down, watch him exploring your wet pussy. And maybe, just maybe, you have thought about this, too - with your vibrator pressed snugly against your clit and fingers plunged deep in your cunt - maybe, the thought of him had been flashing through your mind, made you cum at least once.

Christoph's lips brush over your neck, goosebumps spreading over your skin, his free hand wrapping around one of yours. "C'mere, let me show you how wet you are for your Daddy, princess."

And you moan quietly, as he guides your hand between your legs, runs your fingers through your folds. You are incredibly wet, wetter than you have ever been and you gasp at the sensation as his hand guides your fingers through your slick. It's thick and watery and warm and your mouth falls agape at just how much there is of it. It drips down your cojoined fingers, that glide along your folds easily, runs over the palm of Christoph's hand and over his wrist.

"I have never seen a cunt wetter than yours", he whispers and you mewl, gaze dropping down between your legs, watching him guiding your fingers over your pussy. The grip on your fingers is firm and his movements come to a halt, as your digits brush right over your clit. Your breath audibly hatches and you mewl, the slightest bit of stimulation already having you begging for more.

Christoph grins against your warm skin, teeth brushing over the soft flesh. He knows that you had had sex before - he has seen the messages you sent to your roommate about the boys from class, about the one with the pretty blonde hair - but he can't help but notice how you turn into puddy in his hands, like you have never been touched before. Like a fucking virgin. It makes his blood boil, dick straining against his trousers, wanting to see you come apart under the touch of his hands. He wants to see you go insane on his cock, until there is nothing else left but him - all your flings from college washed from your mind - a clean slate for him to claim, ruin.

"Are you always that needy? I don't even want to think about how poorly he must've touched you", Christoph mumbles against your neck, tongue darting out, licking a wet stripe over your warm skin before moving his fingers along with yours, rubbing slow and wide circles over your clit, "I bet it was downright pathetic."

Your hips buck and you gasp, eyelids fluttering. "Oh god, yes", you breathe, feeling your own wetness beneath your fingertips, and the lust sparking in your loins like a wildfire, "Yes, it was."

The way Christoph touches you is just so so different from what you experienced earlier - his slender fingers move yours skilfully, rubbing your clit like he just knows how you like it, like he's done it a hundred times before. You sink back against him, and he gently removes your hand from your cunt, places it onto your thigh instead - lips brushing and sucking on the back of your neck. "Let me show you how good I can make you feel, darling", he hums, "Let me show you how a real man can make you feel."

And with that, he unceremoniously pulls the lace of your string apart, riiips it cleanly in two, lets the fabric fall to the floor, before spreading your legs further. His fingers dance over your cunt, gliding through your slick, before two of them dive back in on your clit. Rubbing wide, slow circles he has you gasping within seconds, watching his digits working you with your mouth agape - your hole clenches around nothing, hips bucking.

"Does that feel good, princess?", he sounds so so smug, like he knows that it does. You can feel your loins catching fire, slowly rolling your hips against his fingers.

"Y-yes, fuck yes", you huff, moaning quietly.

Christoph's finger delves deeper and circles your hole, has it fluttering under his touch, before he carefully pushes it in. You gasp, and he chuckles, feels the way your walls clench around him.

"You're so tight, princess", he pushes his finger in completely, curls it a little and you moan as it brushes over the spot that usually has you seeing stars - before he starts to move it slowly, agonizingly even, rubs your walls and feels you squeezing him.

Christoph can't wait to fuck you, to get his dick wet, feels himself growing even harder in his slacks at the thought. He has been thinking about it for so long, that touching you makes him a little dizzy, and it needs a whole lot of willpower not to throw you off his lap and push you into the cushions, ass up, pounding into you until you're a drooling, crying mess.

He really wants - needs - to take it slow, get a taste of every single second, make it last as long as he possibly can. He will make you beg for it, drunk with it; drunk with the way he is going to fuck you until you see stars, until there is nothing left on your mind but him and his dick pounding into you, his hands on your body. He had already made you dependant on him financially, and now, finally, he will own your body and its countless pleasures, too.

Christoph smiles to himself, all crinkled crow's feet, and white teeth, as you roll your hips against his finger, desperately adding some more friction. He loves giving it to you: pulls his finger out of you, only to push two back in, stretching your hole out a little. You are so fucking tight around his digits; he can feel the ring of muscles clutching and straining against his fingers. "No one's ever fucked you real good, Liebes, I can tell."

He shoves his fingers deeply into your cunt, gives you a short moment to assess to the feeling, before moving them slowly, fucking your slick in and out of you. First, your hips tremble and then you squirt, moaning deeply, wetness splashing against the palm of Christoph's hand. Gasping, you watch his other hand crawling between your legs, his index-finger slowly circling your clit.

Pleasure shoots through your body and you moan, goosebumps spreading over your body, your heartbeat rattling with lust. "Fuck", you gasp, head lolling back onto his shoulder.

With his lips ghosting over your strained neck, Christoph gently speeds up, harvests the desperate whines and gasps falling from your lips as he pushes his fingers in and out of you.

You feel like you do not even have to tell him what you want, what you like - it is like he hasn't only dug deep into your browser history, but also your brain - like he just knows which switch to flip, how to touch you and how to rile you up with a deadly precision. It also feels oddly familiar - his touch, his smell, your body pressing against his with lust and a thin layer of sweat - like he has known your body for years, like he had fingered and touched you a hundred times before.

And thus, you do not even have to vocalize it, that you need more, need it harder - he just knows, reads you like an opened book or a fucking road sign. Christoph starts to fuck you quickly, his fingers pushing your cream in and out of you, pussy gushing around his digits. Your hand flies to his wrist, clutches it tightly, as you moan and sigh, desperate of any sort of leverage.

The way he fingers you feels so fucking good and you wish it would never end, but you can already feel your muscles clenching and then his other hand starts to rub your clit hard, two slender fingers circling it quickly and you gasp, mewl.

"D-daddy", you shriek, walls clutching around his fingers rapidly as you feel your orgasm approaching quicker than any time before, "I-- I'm gonna-"

"Go ahead", he sounds amused, and the humiliation that floods you at his tone has your orgasm rolling over you, coming loose around his fingers on his command.

Shudders roll over your body as you cum, pathetic whimpers leaving your mouth while Christoph fucks you through your climax, fingers circling your clit and making you squirt against his digits. You are slowly coming back down to earth, a soft smile tugging at the corners of your mouth, before you moan, throwing your head back while you rock down on his long fingers, riding out your orgasm. Your juices squelch around his fingers as he rubs them along your walls, your squirt wet the sofa's cushions beneath. You can feel your slick running down your legs, and you gasp.

"There you go", Christoph coos, lips brushing over your exposed shoulder, his other hand still on your throat, thumb brushing over your jaw, "Doesn't that just feel wonderful, angel?"

You nod, a breathless Yes, Daddy escaping your lips - and you are just so turned on, fire in your loins and fresh wetness pooling between your legs, that you can't help it. You continue to roll your hips onto his fingers despite the last remains of your orgasm still rolling over you, gently and slowly rocking down, meeting the equally gentle thrusts of his fingers. Your cunt squelches as you squirt against the palm of his hand.

Christoph whistles lowly, pulls his fingers out of you - leaving you a whimpering mess - takes a good, long look at them in the dim, golden candle light. They glisten with your juices and he considers shoving them into your mouth for a moment, but the way you roll your hips onto him with your ass rubbing over his bulge, is fucking distracting, has him stalling.

"Oh fuck", you gasp, your head falling back on his shoulder, "Oh god, please, 'stoph, please please -"

"Oho", he chuckles smugly, "Still needy, little girl?"

You are. Your cunt aches, like you haven't just cum and made a mess out of the sofa beneath, but you feel so so empty. You need more. You need -

"N-need your cock, please! Daddy, please--", you roll your hips on his crotch, feeling his hard dick pressing against the soft linen, hot and heavy. He feels big against your wet and aching cunt, leaving stains on his expensive slacks, and you can't fucking wait to feel it inside of you.

Christoph grabs your hips hard, stalling your movement and pressing your slick pussy against his bulge. You can feel his hard cock twitching while you stain and wet the fabric and you moan, needily, while his tongue and lips graze over your shoulder, lapping at the soft skin.

And then, he suddenly buries his teeth in your shoulder - gentle but still hard enough to leave a mark - makes you gasp and sob, before he is licking over the bruised and red skin. Christoph's lips move up up up, over your neck, sucking and kissing. His tongue dances over the shell of your ear, his voice nothing but a deep rumble: "I can't wait to fuck you, darling. Been thinking about it a lot, I just can't get enough of you."

Your breath hitches, and you look over your shoulder, your gaze meeting his unrelenting one. "Please", you say quietly, his grey eyes boring into you, "Do it."

And then Christoph leans in, locks his lips with yours once more, licking into your mouth, while one of his hands wanders down, opens the fly of his pants. He is getting impatient now and you are, too, one of your hands joining his and pulling the hem of his boxers down. He is panting into your mouth, against your lips and your hand wraps around his cock, all hot and hard, gives it a few experimental strokes.

You wonder if he will fuck you like he kisses you; like he is going to swallow you whole, like he is never going to let you go again, with the way his nose digs into your cheek and his hands hold you close while his tongue explores your mouth in between open-mouthed kisses full of panting and groaning, leaving your lips plump and plush. You want him to fuck you like that - until there is nothing left but him.

His dick is bigger than you thought, long and just the right girth and you have trouble closing your hand around it fully. The way you stroke him, despite the angle being a little clumsy with your body in the way, has Christoph groaning into your mouth, licking your tongue, and gripping your waist, his other hand dipping back between your legs.

Your pussy is soaked, and he spreads your slick over the hot, plush skin - so responsive from your previous orgasm, that you gasp and moan against his lips, and he catches your lower lip, gently bites, and nibbles at it. Your hand massages his dick, your thumb occasionally flicking over its tip, smearing the drops of precum pooling beneath your digits. Eventually, Christoph is parting from you, cheeks blushed a little and pupils blown wide, swats your hands away. His voice is deep and dark, nothing but a low and soft whisper, that has the hairs on your body standing up as he addresses you again: "You fucking slut."

And that, that has you moaning. You never thought you'd hear such things from him, but the way his eyes grow dark and his voice rumbles in his chest you are certain, that something primal has kicked in his inner doors and makes itself comfortable. "First, you dress up like a whore for a hicktown-boy and now, all I have to do is to give you a cock and you're gone so quickly you won't even let go of it, eh?"

"It's jus'so big, Daddy, feels so good", you slur, already a little gone, trying to get your hands onto him once more. He tuts at you, shakes his head a little. "You'll get it back, sunshine, don't you worry."

Christoph grabs his dick with one hand - the other arm wraps around your frame and adjusts you in his lap, your naked, shivering body resting against his expensive linen - and presses it against your seeping hot cunt. The feeling alone makes your loins tingle, has you spreading your legs further.

You gasp, needy for him to finally fuck you, finally shove his cock into you. "Please, Daddy--", you whine, rolling your hips against his dick, wetting it with your juices.

"Been teasing me for so long", he sounds unnerved while thinking about it, his cock twitches against your hot cunt, "Did that get you off?"

"N-no", you mewl honestly, because you didn't, you did not know what you were doing to him. You feel guilty, wanting to make it right - to finally be good for him.

"Bet it did", he hums, not listening to you, "I will have to teach you some manners, one day."

Shivers tingle on your arms, run down your body and you nod, the promise of a punishment lingering in the air, your hole clenching around nothing at the mere thought of it. You need him - now. Need him to stuff your cunt, fuck you until you are a drooling mess, not a single thought remaining. "Daddy, please, just-"

"You know, I have kids your age", Christoph is slowly rubbing his cock along your cunt, the tip of it nudging against your clit, making you shiver and whimper. The complete and utter filth that leaves his mouth has you squirming on his lap, his tone - smug and calculating - makes him sound nearly proud that he's bagging someone as young and pretty like you. You can feel some fresh wetness spreading between your folds, warm and sticky, as he rubs his precum through them, eventually presses the thick tip against your waiting hole.

Christoph knows that you usually only let someone fuck you with a condom on, he has seen your contraception laying around in your room but he will make sure that tonight's a little different - he'll claim you, pump you full of his cum and make you remember the way it will mingle with your own juices.

Expecting you to protest as he finally pushes in without one on, he is genuinely surprised as you don't; instead, your hole flutters open, invites him in deeply, accompanied by the sweetest, softest, high-pitched moan he may have ever heard. The second your hot walls close around his dick, squeezing him tightly with your hole stretching around his thick cock, his face comes loose.

You can hear Christoph exhale deeply, a pleased and satisfied sound, his eyes falling shut and face growing soft as he relishes in the feeling of your throbbing, wet cunt. His dick isn't only bigger than you thought, it fucking feels like it, too. The thick head presses snugly against your cervix, while your hole stretches around its base, walls pressed against it, feeling his cock throb.

"Ah, that's it", he sighs quietly, hands gently rubbing your hips.

"'S good?", you slur, already a little out of it but wanting to be good for him, good for your Daddy.

"Better than I have ever dared to dream, darling", one of his hands brushes over your thigh, caresses the warm skin.

You sigh with the praise, hole clenching around the thick base of his cock while it stretches you out. "Y'feel so good, Daddy", you mumble, looking down to where his dick vanishes inside of you, has your cunt spread on it.

"That's my polite little girl", Christoph's hand brushes over your stomach, up up up and cups your right tit, gives it a firm squeeze.

"Why don't you start moving, sunshine? Make sure it will keep feeling good for me, hm?", he suggests, silky voice dripping with honey, and he lets go of a ragged breath as you do. Rolling your hips experimentally once, feeling his cock moving inside of you, and you quiver. It gently prods against your cervix with every moment, making you mewl and gasp.

Starting off slowly, you raise your hips and then move them back down carefully, feeling Christoph's cock stretching you out, rubbing along your walls. His hands brush over your thighs, your waist. "There you go, darling", he croons, lips brushing over your shoulders, "Keep going, make me feel good."

And you really want to - thus, you grow braver, lifting your hips and sinking back down quicker, rolling them on his cock. He groans, throaty and deep, hands digging into your thighs. You start to ride his dick, fucking yourself back onto him quickly, hands darting out to his knees, desperate for any sort of leverage as you lift your hips and sink back down.

Moaning, you throw your head back as your body sacks forward a little, back arched and Christoph gives your exposed ass a firm slap, before his hand snakes around your body, closes in around your throat. "Upright, girl", he scolds, has you gasping and straightening back up immediately. The hand does not vanish, instead, it adds pressure to your delicate neck, pressing your windpipe shut. Your hips stutter and your eyes widen, right before pleasure shoots through your body, hot waves of lust making you squirt against his cock. Your thighs clench, knees darting together. "Keep them open for me, baby girl", he huffs, his free hand darting between your thighs, grabbing your left and forcefully spreading your legs in the process.

Christoph's hand lets go of your throat, now laying gently against your soft skin instead and thus, keeping your upright on his lap, back arched. "Oh", you gasp, so fucking turned on, you might combust on the spot, "Oh, fuck -- Daddy!"

The hand on your thigh gropes you lightly, thumb brushing over your skin gently. You move up and down on his cock, cunt throbbing and walls squeezing him occasionally, while the tip of his dick prods against your cervix. The way Christoph's cock splits you open, rubs along your walls is delicious, has you gasping and whining.

"Mhm, don't you just look pretty, bouncing on your Daddy's cock like that?", the hand around your throat clutches once more and you moan, high pitched and whiny, hips bucking.

The lack of oxygen has your walls clenching around his dick as you rock down on it, hands desperately grabbing the linen of his slacks. The stretch in your back is deliciously painful, the hand on your throat adding to it.

Feeling your orgasm approaching slowly, you speed up a little more, the sounds of your slick skin hitting his cock filling your room, mingling with his groans and your whines. "There you go, sunshine", Christoph's praise is sweet and soft as you speed up a little more, rolling your hips up and down up and down, hands clutching the linen of his slacks, while you fuck yourself back onto his dick. You can feel your heart pounding in your throat, you can taste your arousal on the tip of your tongue, hear your blood singing with it.

With your cunt squeezing him, practically milking his cock as you rock down it, Christoph can't help but wanting more. The hand on your thigh sneaks between your legs, and he feels you shivering in his lap as his index-finger brushes against your clit. Your gasps are sweet and turn into dirty, wanton moans quickly as he starts to circle your clit with it and Jesus fucking Christ - he wishes he could hear it every day, when he wakes up, when he goes to bed, wishes he could just do nothing all day, only play with you, and make you cum over and over and over again. The way you roll your hips and fuck yourself onto his dick becomes more erratic, desperate and a little clumsy and his lips curl up - he just knows you're close.

"That's a good girl", Christoph coos, voice rough and deep, "Cum on my cock. Be a good girl and cum for me."

Adding pressure to your windpipe once more, he presses the hand around your throat down hard. Your hips buck wildly at the sudden lack of oxygen, lust shooting through your veins, while his finger rubs over your clit fast, in rhythm with the thrusts of your hips. You can feel your walls clenching heavily around his dick and then you cum, your orgasm hitting you with such force, that all you can do is gasp loudly. Any sound and thought is wiped from your body as your cunt squeezes his cock, pussy clenching and legs trembling, hips stuttering as you squirt and squirt, your cream gushing against his dick.

Christoph continues to fuck you through it, moaning quietly while you milk his cock, one arm wrapping around your waist and keeping you in place, the other slooowly letting go of your throat. You suck in desperate breaths, your senses slowly returning and you moan, high-pitched and sweetly, as you feel his dick pulsating inside of you.

"Yeah, just like that, sunshine", he groans, while he fucks you through your orgasm, cock twitching inside of you and shooting hot ropes of cum into your hole, painting your walls white, "Such a good girl, taking it all."

Humming with his praise, you spread your legs wide over his lap, letting his dick in a little deeper, welcoming his cum home. His free hand roams your inner thigh, gropes you gently, while he huffs and groans into your ear - the low sound making you shiver. You relish in the feeling of his warm body beneath you, feeling pumped full by his cum and his hands all over you, while your body grows a little sore, your pussy becoming plush and plump.

His dick is still buried inside of you, hard and hot and heavy. You feel so so full, with his cock preventing his cum from leaking out, only a few drops run out of your hole lazily, drip down his balls and onto the sofa. His cock doesn't seem to go noticeably flaccid, having you gasp and moan with the sensation, relishing in the feeling of him filling you up to the brim. You want to ask why he's still hard, but the question becomes obsolete as your gaze flickers to the coffee table. There's a blister of pills there, one cavity empty. The pills are blue.

Christoph's thumb rubs along your chin, catches on your lower lip. "Surprised, angel?", and you nod, only a dumb Uh-huh leaving your throat and he snickers at the sound, pushes his thumb into your mouth. Immediately, like you are fucking programmed to, you start sucking on it, pussy clenching around his hardening cock.

"Oh, my pretty baby, fucked your brains out already? And I am not even done yet", he sounds genuinely amused while his other hand brushes over your inner thigh and your skin and the nerves below are so so responsive to his touch, has you squirming in his lap and on his cock, mewling. It makes him groan, a low sound, vibrating deep in his throat.

"I have been waiting so long for this", he husks, "I didn't want for it to end too quickly, hm?"

You can feel him growing back to full size inside of you, within mere minutes. It feels nice, nice being so full and you are so far gone in that thickly sweet daze that you don't even think once, as you roll your hips lazily - once, twice - while his hands roam over your body, your lower belly, your waist, groping your tits.

Christoph touches you with a righteousness, like you belong to him, like he owns you. Like there's no one else but you.

But you know that's not true. You know that upstairs your mother is fast asleep, and that on her nightstand lays an expensive engagement ring with a huge-ass diamond. If you weren't so fucked out of your mind, you'd care and you'd wonder if this is a one-time thing.

As if he can read your thoughts, he says: "Don't you worry your pretty little head, princess. I won't marry her anymore - it's only you darling, always been."

And you sigh, his sweet talk wrapping you in as he pushes his hips upwards once, buries himself deep into your cunt, hits your cervix. You look over your shoulder, and your gazes meet.

One of his hands comes up, rests on your cheek while he starts to fuck you slowly, softly pants with the way his dick slips in and out of you. "Oh, my sweet baby", Christoph coos while you are hissing quietly as his cock brushes over your overstimulated walls, spreads your tight and aching hole, your hand clutching his wrist.

"Daddy, i-it's too much", you mewl and he pouts at you playfully, shakes his head.

"No, it isn't, is it? You can take it", his thumb caresses your cheek, gives you a sweet peck on the lips, "Be a good girl and take it. You can give me one more."

But you physically can't, and neither does your pussy, walls tightening around him, pushing against his hard dick. "Oh, das machen wir aber nicht, hm?", Christoph scolds, his other hand diving back between your spread legs, two fingers gently circling your clit. You hum, body immediately relaxing, and within a few moments the dull pain of him assaulting your used hole vanishes in thin air, sharp gasps escaping your parted lips, your juices running down your cunt.

"There we are. I knew you could take it", his grin is nothing but devilish, peppers your cheek with soft kisses, "I'm so proud of you, sunshine, hm? Taking it so much better than your mom. I knew you'd be the one."

Stretching your already used cunt further, he nestles back in fully, sighs deeply. "Like you were made for me, angel."

"Yes", you sigh sweetly, because you sure feel like it. Gently, careful even, Christoph continues to circle your clit, pinching and rubbing it. Your body slowly, slowly sinks away from you, growing light and all that is left is the feeling of his hands touching you, his cock buried deep inside of you. Every nerve-ending tingles with it, your brain only focussed on him and the way he feels, the way he smells, the way he sounds. The only thing left is him.

Your body goes limp, arms dangling at your sides as Christoph grabs your hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh, and thrusts you onto his cock - once, twice. Deep thrusts, that make your blood sing.

"O-oh, oh Daddy", you gasp, eyes rolling back. Your body practically goes up in hot, burning flames of lust, sparks tingling in your thighs and your chest and you want him to run his hands all over you and feel you up, but you also don't want him to stop manhandling you like he does - all his pent up energy coming lose, practically giving you taste of how long and cruel his wait had been. If you weren't so fucked out of your mind, everything a little hazy already, you would touch yourself, but you just can't - all you can do is spread your legs wider, mouth agape while you pant and moan, relishing in the delicious feeling of his dick fucking you into oblivion.

Your jaw goes slack with it, head lolling back onto his shoulder as he uses you, hammers you down on his dick like a fleshlight. Christoph's grip on your waist and hips is hard enough to leave bruises and tomorrow morning you will be able to see them, an angry red, count the ways he marked you as his.

The thought of you being nothing more to Christoph than his pretty little cocksleeve - young and attractive - that he can take anywhere and fuck whenever he pleases, makes your head swim. You think about him dragging you along to some award-show, showing you off on the carpet and then bending you over the sink in one of the bathrooms because another actor looked at you for a second too long, fucking you until you can't really walk anymore - only to later sit in the award ceremony and feeling his cum leaking out of you. You think of him taking you out for dinner to a fancy restaurant - maybe even with some of his Hollywood-friends - playing with your pussy at the dinner table, whispering sweet nothings in your ear - just because he can, because who would even dare to stop him? You think about visiting him on set, waiting for him in his hotel room - adorned in the jewellery he has gifted you, nothing on but a revealing set of lingerie - waiting for him to take his stress out on you.

It makes you fucking wet, squirt gushing from your cunt, that runs down your folds and that he pumps back into your wanton hole. "Jesus, fuck", you whine, starting to roll your hips with the way he thrusts you down on his dick, feeling him deep deep inside of your pussy, thick head brushing over and hitting your cervix. Hearing him moan with it nearly makes you lose your mind.

You cry out - overstimulated, but so so horny - with his cum squelching out of you with every single thrust, mingling with your juices and dripping, squirting onto the sofa. There are pleas falling from your lips as you yell out with lust and Christoph's quick to clasp one hand around your mouth, your cries and deep moans muffled by the palm of his hand. Your eyelids flutter as you fuck yourself back against his thrusts, his cock hitting your cervix and pain and lust ignite your body, making you want to curl up and just take take take what he gives you.

You feel like you are on fire, your whole body responding to his touch and his thrusts, every single nerve in your body on high alert, as you feel your orgasm coming closer.

Looking down, you can see how he is still thrusting your body down on his dick and you watch, panting. Seeing just how he is using you, like you are nothing but a delicate toy --

It's what tips you over.

A high-pitched scream escapes your mouth as you cum, muffled by his hand pressing against your mouth - before he pulls away, allows you to suck in a few deep breaths through your opened mouth.

Your body practically convulses on his cock, shakes rattling your frame as your third orgasm rolls over you, creaming and squirting against his dick, making a pretty mess of his linen slacks and the sofa beneath. You have left quite a few nasty stains tonight, and your cheeks will turn red in a few days, when your mother spots them and Christoph lies to her face.

Your cunt squeezes his dick and you can feel it twitch heavily inside of you, once, twice, and then he cums too, shoots hot ropes of cum inside of your pussy once more. You feel so fucking full, like you are about to burst, as you roll your hips against his, cunt gushing around his cock.

"Oh fuck", you moan sweetly, sacking back against him. You can hear him pant, one hand on your waist coming lose and resting gently on your stomach, rubbing loose circles over your warm skin.

"What a good girl, huh", he whispers, coarse and exhausted. His words barely reach you through the thick cloud, everything turns white and a soft numbness embraces you, makes you feel featherlight, like you are flying. Christoph's arms wrap you in gently, pulling your naked form close to his, the soft linen crinkling and pressing against your naked back.

You stay like this for a while, with his large and soft hands caressing your skin - rubbing your stomach and gently stroking your thigh - until your breath becomes deeper again, your limbs start to feel heavier, more connected to your body once more. "Oh God", you sigh, feeling his cock still plugging your hole up. It grows flaccid slowly, a few drops of his cum already leaking out of you.

Christoph's lips dance along your shoulder, your neck, kissing and pressing down onto the warm skin. His hands grip your hips tightly. "Ready?", and he sounds so so playful, like he is really enjoying this - taking some depraved satisfaction from it - and you can't help but nod, readying for him to pull out.

He lifts your hips, watches how his dick slips out of your hole easily, hears you hiss with it, and then it trickles down. Thick drops, streaks of white cum flush from your used cunt, and he's quick to swipe his fingers along your folds - spreads your pussy and his cum, collects it with his fingers.

They enter your vision and without thinking, like you're still far gone - despite the fact that you aren't - he shoves them between your obediently opened, waiting lips. You close them around his fingers, while the remains of his cum drip out of you still, and start to clean them up, sucking on them, tongue swirling around his digits.

"That's a good girl", his praise has your blood singing, and you whine in protest as Christoph pulls his fingers from your mouth, "So, tell me - where do you go the next time you want a good fuck?"

"To you, Daddy", you say softly, earning you a warm chuckle and a pat on the thigh.

***

Your legs are still wobbly as you make your way downstairs in the morning and out onto the terrace. Your mother and Christoph are sitting in the sun, a light breeze rolling around the terrace, making the seam of the table cloth sway gently.

Your mother is silently eating her breakfast while Christoph rustles with his French newspaper. He appears to be interested in the Feuilleton but you notice how his gaze flickers to you as soon as you're approaching the table, remains glued to your figure, small lines forming around his eyes.

"Oh, honey!", your mother gets up, happy that you are awake, and gives you a featherlight kiss on the cheek, "Oh god, you look horrible, darling! Did you sleep unwell?"

Christoph snorts, but your mother ignores it - holds you at arm length, iron grip around your arms as she assesses your timid frame.

"Yeah, 's just the heat", you mutter, freeing yourself from her death grip and sit down, flinching a little. You're so fucking sore, legs still heavy and hole aching, pussy begging for another touch through the slight pain. Christoph deliberately puts down the newspaper, a smug smile toying at the corners of his lips. It grows rather surprised than complacent as he takes you in fully.

You are wearing one of the dresses he had bought you. You also draped a silk scarf around your shoulders, hiding the viciously glowing bitemark he gave you. His face is expressionless as he looks at you, his cold stare boring into you. For a moment you think, he might rat you out - tell your mother that you snuck out last night.

But he doesn't. Instead, he wordlessly pours you a glass of freshly pressed orange juice, hands it over to you. Your fingers brush over his, goosebumps spreading over your skin at the thought that just a couple of hours, they had been in you, fucking you to hell and back.

You can still feel them inside of you, growing wet at the thought, squirming a little in your chair. If it weren't for your mom sitting right next to you, you'd get up and beg him to fuck you. Your pussy aches at the imagery that your brain conjures up; tits bouncing, one leg hooked over his shoulder, the expensive dress pooling around your waist, glasses on the table clinking with each thrust.

Your mother - oblivious to what is happening in front of her - brabbles on about her plans for the day, while Christoph's gaze is chained to yours.

It feels like his eyes are undressing you, a shadow dances over his greyish eyes, turning them into a darkened sky. Your hand grips the glass tightly, thighs rubbing together. You really wish you could just --

"Careful", he says quietly, pointing at your hand clutching your glass so hard your knuckles start to turn white, and you let go of it, like you just burned yourself. The glass nearly topples over on the white table cloth, the juice trickles down the insides of it lazily, silent testimony to an accident prevented. He's right - it might've burst.

Thank you for taking care of me, Daddy. You want to get up and thank him properly, unzip his pants and --

"Don't you think, that'd be nice, honey?", your mother chimes, still busy with her avocado, and pulls you out of your daydream - you on your knees with Christoph rubbing his cock and balls across your face and making you look like a cheap whore, before he slips it between your plush, waiting lips with their red lipstick smudged - you barely manage not to moan aloud, quickly turning your head her way.

"Huh?", you blink dumbly.

"Honey", she scoffs, "I said - Do you wanna go to the beach today?"

You rather wouldn't. Especially not with your mother around, gushing about the man who fucked you senseless last night. You would rather spend the day with him alone.

Thus, your gaze flickers back to Christoph quicker than you can think about it, quicker than you can stop yourself from doing it. He gives you the slightest nod, that goes completely unnoticed by your mother and rearranges his reading glasses.

Thank you for thinking for me, Daddy.

"Sure, why not?", you can hear yourself say. Christoph rustles with his newspaper and somewhere, in the trees, a bird chimes.

[filmscruise]

i'm working on a whole fanfiction of christoph, i'm inspired

[mlmxreader]

Family | King Schultz x m!reader

@margheeeeritii asked: hello it's me again, i hope your'e having a nice day :)

i wnated to request an M!readerxKing Schultz whit the prompt "You didn't tell them we're married?" were Django comes to visit his old friend only to find out he's married now and settled down.

thank you very much!

summary: a visit from Django and Broomhilde gets Schultz both excited and anxious.

tws: swearing, smoking

support your fanfic writers by reblogging what you read & enjoy

Django and Broomhilde were in town for a week, which was fine and dandy by all accounts, and although you were excited to meet them, to meet your son-in-law and his wife, you could see that King was more than nervous about it; pottering around the house to make sure that everything looked perfect for them, tearing his hair out to make family dishes just the way his Mutter and his Vater used to.

He wanted it to be special, and although he was in agony doing it, you could tell that the only way be would calm down would be when Django and Broomhilde walked through the door.

You had heard many stories about Django, of course, of what he and King did during their time together as bounty hunters, and you couldn't deny that you were absolutely looking forward to meeting the man, the myth, the very legend himself; even if your husband was in agony over it, wanting everything to be perfect, wanting everything to be just right.

When you heard the sound of horses approaching, you looked out the window, and smiled when you saw two people; it couldn't be anyone else, as nobody ever came too close to the house for fear that the big guard dog, an old greyhound called Moritz, would tear them limb from limb. Even the postman would abandon letters and parcels at the very edge of the property.

But as the two riders came closer, Moritz didn't stir. Still sound asleep in his basket beside your desk. It wasn't until the riders had dismounted, left their horses with Fritz, and knocked on the door that the big dog dared to open an eye; he huffed, and raised his head, following after you when you went to answer.

"Uhm, pardon me," the man took his hat off, and looked at you with raised brows. "But you ain't seen King Schultz, have you?"

"Yeah, he's in the kitchen," you nodded. "You're Django, right?"

"Right," he smiled, clearing his throat and gesturing to the lady beside him. "This is Broomhilde."

"Hilde," she corrected, shaking your hand. "And you are?"

"(y/n)," you smiled at them, gesturing for them to come inside. "(y/n) Schultz... and that supposed guard dog is Moritz."

"Moritz," Broomhilde smiled, dropping to her knees so that she could pet the dog as he wagged his tail.

Django looked around, noticing the various little trinkets and keepsakes that littered the house, but when he noticed a particular photograph, he paused, and gestured for you to come over. "That's you and King, ain't it?"

"Yeah," you shrugged. "We took that when we were visiting Vienna together."

"Huh," Django nodded. "What was it like?"

"Oh, absolutely lovely," you grinned, fond rememberance in your eyes. "We went to this little saloon not far from where we were staying, and the whisky was dirt cheap... but the food was even better, if I'm honest."

Django hummed, not thinking very much of it. "Where's he now?"

"In the kitchen," you told him, patting his arm gently. "Make yourselves comfortable, I'll go get him."

You left Broomhilde and Django to look around, to get comfortable, heading to the kitchen; Schultz was smoking a cigarette as he leaned against the counter, a pot on the stove as he sighed.

"Everything alright, Hase?"

Schultz nodded, scratching his beard as he grumbled ever so softly. "This is taking far longer than it should, mein Mann."

You smiled, shaking your head as you came to stand beside him, your arm going around his waist. "Django and Hilde are here... Moritz didn't even fucking stir until I opened the door."

"Of course he didn't," Schultz laughed softly. "He's a guard dog, he won't protect us from family."

You dared to chuckle, but then you frowned a little as you thought about how Django had not even recognised your name. "King, by any chance, did you forget something?"

He fell silent, thinking about it for a moment. "Actually, I did."

"What did you forget?"

"I forgot to mention that I had a loving husband," he admitted, like he was ashamed at his own momentary forgetfulness. "Didn't I?"

"You didn't tell them we're married? What next, you'll forget our anniversary?" You joked softly, making him laugh as he tried not to grumble at you. "It's fine, I'm sure they'll figure it out - they're smart."

He was relieved, to say the least, that you weren't angry at him for forgetting to mention that he had settled down and had a stunning husband who he hoped to spend the rest of his days with; but he did still feel quite guilty about it.

"If it helps, we've got your favourite for dinner."

"Yeah?" You asked with a soft hum. "Is it your Vater's recipe, or mine?"

"It's a mix of both," he admitted. "Aber... it'll be gut, trust me."

"I dunno about trusting you," you teased. "You did forget to tell Django and Hilde that you have a husband."

"Es tut mir leid," Schultz sighed. "Vergib mir... bitte, mein geliebter?"

You kissed his cheek, gently padding his chest as you pulled away and nodded. "I'll forgive you, Doctor."

He was still nervous, especially when he brought out dinner as everyone sat at the table, and still felt guilty for forgetting his marital status, but once everyone was eating, Schultz finally started to relax; a mix of small talk and roaring laughter started to fill the house, scatterings of in depth intellectual conversation and retellings of the good old days. It felt more like home than it had ever done before.

A family, sitting at the dinner table and eating together - laughing, swapping stories, having real conversations together. It felt more like home with Django and Broomhilde there with you.

"So, come on," Broomhilde set her fork down, a mostly empty plate resting between her elbows on the table as she looked at you with slightly raised brows. "When did you and the Doctor marry?"

"Ooh, uh..." you rubbed the back of your neck as you tried to think about it. "Our ketubah was signed nearly... two, three years ago."

"Three years," Schultz started, "two months, one week and fourteen hours."

You stared at him for a second, a grin coming to your lips as you dared to reach for his hand. "You kept time?"

"I kept time," he agreed.

"That's really sweet," Django nodded. "Y'know... Hilde and I were talking while you was in the kitchen."

"Yeah?" You hummed.

"D'ya think, maybe, we could stay here, with you, while we're in town?" He asked.

There was a moment of silence, but the Schultz looked at you, and then he looked back at Django as a grin came to his lips. "Natürlich, mein Sohn!"

A family, under the same roof.

[purplelupins]

Rapture

Part IV

Summery: A call from a friend needing a favour would turn into the biggest opportunity of your life. You can’t help but hand on for dear life along the way, but the held you get from a new acquaintance serves to pull you through it.

Pairing: Christoph Waltz x fem!reader

Warnings: Reader has anxiety, suggestive and sexual conversations DNI if you are a minor!

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

This was the first time you had been apart from Christoph since reuniting for the press tour, and you found yourself aching for his protective presence next to you. He was taken to the airport in a separate car, much to his displeasure, and you hoped the timing of your drivers was in sync enough that you would both arrive at the airport at the same time to at least board the plane together.

However, when you arrived at the massive London Heathrow airport, when you expected to be taken to the front lobby, your driver had continued past the turn. You kept quiet, and watched as he took you roughly one kilometre away from the front of the airport, to a much smaller entrance to the large building. There were a few expensive vehicles pulled up the the private curb, and you noticed a much higher level of security.

While you wanted to ask what was happening, you followed your driver, Dan, and hopped out of the car when he opened the door for you, and took your luggage. You thanked the man for his kindness during your time in the country, and slipped him an extra tip. Ever since you had received your generous paycheck, you had taken it upon yourself to spread as much kindness and gratitude as you could with the small amount of wealth you had been given.

The tinted glass doors stared back at you, and you suddenly felt as if you didn’t belong. But you had a flight to catch, and you were damn well not going to miss it because of your sweaty hands and restless mind. You squared your shoulders and took the few steps up to the door before it slid open automatically. There was a small, beautiful reception area that opened up, and a woman with a friendly smile behind the counter in uniform.

“Good morning miss.” She greeted you as you strode up to her. “Checking in?” Her manners were well practiced.

“Yes, thank you.” You said, handing her your ticket and passport for confirmation. She took it with ease and looked it over carefully- you assumed this was definitely some kind of VIP boarding lounge, so they couldn’t just let anyone inside. Either that or a very elaborate trafficking scheme.

“Thank you miss l/n,” she said, returning the papers, “If you would like to leave your suitcase here, you may proceed into the security check just beyond those doors,” she gestured to the other end of the lobby, “Where you will then find the lounge were you will wait for your boarding time.”

You blinked, and nodded, “Oh, perfect. Thank you very much.” You said.

She gave you another polite smile and nodded. “Of course. Have a safe flight.”

With your suitcase discarded, you adjusted the strap of your purse and walked through the set of doors. You swore everything was soundproofed- there was virtually no noise at all in the suite.

Sure enough, you found yourself walking up to a much smaller security check, with workers in much sharper attire than you were used to. When you had flown to London, you were just flown out like an average person- no special checks or anything. But now, you thought, people knew your face. You had been on a mahout television network with a major actor. You were no secret, so your agent must have arranged to have this done.

“Hello.” You said, approaching the staff who watched you with practiced composure.

“Good morning, ma’am.” They replied. You knew the drill, and wanted to make their lives as easy as possible, so you quickly opened up your bag, and took out anything that needed inspecting; next you slipped off your coat, and it’s contents, along with your loafers- which you were thankful to have worn due to their easiness to get off and on. Then you stepped through the metal detector, and was checked over one more time with the handheld scanner before the guard nodded and said, “All done. Thank you for your patience.”

You smiled and went to the bins containing your belongings, and made quick work of re-dressing yourself. “Thank you so much, don’t work too hard!” You called over your shoulder as you continued to the main waiting area down another hall. You swore you had gotten in your exercise for the day by the time you passed yet another set of doors. This time, however, you were greeted with a very welcomed sight.

Christoph was sat in a far more comfortable lounge seat than the average airport seating, with his nose in a book. You wondered how he always looked so perfectly at ease, yet classy at all times; from his crisp, white button-up with the first few buttons undone, to his ironed charcoal slacks down to his brown boots.

You made note of several other faces in the lounge; some familiar and some only just nagging the back of your mind where you swore you knew them from somewhere. The tinted windows cast a gentle light inside, and you had to keep from sighing at how it seemed to illuminate the Viennese man.

The longer you stared at him, you found that you were suddenly bombarded with the memory of him being inside you just hours ago, and an unwanted blush spread across your cheeks. With your heart beating harshly, you let a grin spread across your fresh face as you walked up to the older man. Your steps finally caught his attention, and Christoph looked up; you noticed his double-take, and smiled when he slowly put his book down and grinned.

“Guten Morgen.(good morning)” You said as you approached. Christoph blinked, stood, and extended a hand to take your bag without waiting for you to answer his silent request.

“Guten Morgan mein liebe(good morning my love).” He murmured, and held his arms out to pull you in for a hug.

Normally you would have been concerned about privacy, but in the exclusive suite so one seemed to pay too much attention to each other.

The older man’s arms wrapped around you and you suddenly felt like you were home. His scent calmed you, and his warmth made you feel safe; any shaking in your hands, or butterflies in your gut settled.

“Wie bist du, mein Schatz?( how are you, my darling?)” He asked as you sat next to one another.

“ Gut(good)…I won’t lie though, I really thought I was being kidnapped or something when I was dropped off here.” You said, looking around at the lavish interior. Christoph’s brows pinched for a moment in confusion, but his face relaxed when he realized that you meant you hadn’t seen this side of fame yet.

“I must admit I do miss the anonymity…” he murmured, nodding, “I hate this little circus.” He gestured to the room. Always a man of privacy.

“You don’t ever fly economy anymore?” You asked.

“When I am not promoting something I do prefer a ‘normal’ flying experience… to be as inconspicuous and integrated as possible…” he said, putting air quotes around ‘normal’. You smiled at him, and settled into your seat; the two of you lapsed into comfortable quiet . Just as you went to slip on your headphones to disappear into some music, Christoph leaned over ever so slightly to you and whispered, “Nice sweater.” With the tiniest of smirks on his face, knowing very well that it was his, and that he had slipped it over your head that same morning himself as you both got ready.

Your cheeks burned when your mind remembered his hands on your waist as he had pulled you against him to kiss you. How he had pulled away sharply when you had moaned softly into his mouth, and you had seen that devious spark in his bright eyes. How he had lifted your thigh up onto his hip-

Christoph needed no response from you- your inability to look at him and your unmoving hands were enough of an indicator that he had fluster you. You did your best to relax yourself as you awaited the flight time to approach; it seemed however, that no matter what you tried to occupy yourself with, your eyes glazed over and your memory of the man beside you played in a reel behind your irises.

“Good afternoon passengers, this is your captain speaking. We have a clear sky set out ahead of us this fine February day. Please fasten your seatbelts….” The generic speech made by the captain through the speakers was practically a buzz in your ear as you took in the extravagant part of the plane. It was advertised as business class, but with what you were used to it seemed more like you were royalty.

The sheer amount of leg room you had almost made you cry with happiness alone.

“…y/n?”

You finally tore your eyes from a woman just a few rows down from you who you could have sworn was Gal Gadot, and looked to your side. Christoph was watching you with amusement in his eyes and a raised brow.

“While I am certain you are enjoying this new experience, I am sure you would enjoy it far more if you clipped that belt on before we get told off by the frightening stewardess.” He said quickly as the woman in question was walking up your aisle. You clicked the seatbelt on, and did your best to relax. Taking off was always one of the worst part; of course it was exhilarating and beautiful once the plane breaks through the clouds, but you never seemed to quite calm your nerves. Your hands had a slight tremor to them, and your eyes began to dart around once you felt the plane pull away down the runway.

Without a word, you saw Christoph place his hand palm up on the arm rest between you. You looked down at it, then up to him, and he only watched you calmly. After a moment, you placed your hand in his, and felt his fingers interlock with yours. A wave of calm washed over you, and your shoulders relaxed.

The plane sped down the runway, and finally lifted into the air. Your stomach flopped and you clenched your jaw in an attempt to ground yourself.

For the first hour of the flight, you listened to music to distract yourself. You let your mind wander in an attempt to forget that you were hundreds of thousands of feet in the air. Every once and a while, you would look over at your companion, and watch him as he continued his book. Christoph would look up occasionally, and ended up catching you with a small smile of his before returning to the words on the page as if nothing had happened.

Your fingers tapped on your thigh to the rhythm of the piece of music flooding your ears. It was only when you felt a hand on your arm that you snapped out of your trance and looked over at the older man. He pointed to your headphones, and you removed them to hear him.

“What are you listening to?” Christoph murmured, nodding to your phone.

“Oh- Ave Maria.” You said, holding your phone screen for him to see.

The older man’s brows rose up in surprise, then nodded, and thought for a moment, “May I?” He asked, holding his hand out.

You nodded happily and handed him the wireless headphones, which he slipped over his ears. You lowered the volume to be careful of his hearing-aids, and hit play. Over the course of your friendship with Christoph, you had shared your music with one another often; it still made you a little giddy when he asked so politely.

After learning more about him, you knew very well that opera and music in general was a huge part of his life, and had been since he was a boy. Watching Christoph experience the piece of music was almost like watching a performance in itself. His eyes would crinkle at the side when a part came that he liked, and he ran his index finger along his lower lip in thought.

Once the four minutes had passed, you could see a small smile on the older man’s face, and you found yourself comparing him to a small boy who had been given candy. Christoph slipped the headphones off and handed them back to you.

“Beautiful.” He said gently.

“It is.” You agreed. You looked down at your hands, biting the siding of your cheek, let glanced up at Christoph who was already watching you tenderly. He seemed to have a permanent softness to his usually intense features when he gazed at you; you had thought it was nothing up until last night. But oh how wrong you were.

Your comfortable moment was interrupted when one of the stewardesses approached the two of you, and leaned down. “Good afternoon. May I interest either of you in a drink or lunch.” She said politely.

You had jumped at her sudden appearance beside you. Your stomach growled, but you shook your head. “I’m good, thank you.”

And to your surprise, you heard Christoph say, “May I request a blanket for my companion and I, please?”

The woman’s eyes flicked between the two of you for a fraction of a second before she nodded and smiled, “Of course, sir.” She said.

The stewardess left to finish her rounds, and while you wanted to ask Christoph why he had requested a blanket, you found your answer yourself. On your arm where your sleeve had ridden up were goosebumps.

Your heart nearly exploded right there with the thought that Christoph had noticed before even you had.

“You’re not hungry, mein Schatz?” He murmured as he tucked away his book.

“I am…but I’ve never been a fan of plane food. And I would rather not have an upset stomach while being interview by James Cordon.” You said with a little laugh.

He nodded in understanding. If there was anyone who would share your sentiments on pre-prepared food, it was Christoph Waltz. There was a reason why he was so healthy, and his aversion to food like that of a plane’s was one of them.

The stewardess returned a few minutes later with a very plush, large blanket, and handed it to Christoph; he laid the blanket over you and and him. It was only then that you realized how cold you were in the air conditioning. Your cheeks joined your warming limbs when the older man took your hand in his under the fabric and rubbed his thumb against your skin. You smiled gently.

To your surprise, Christoph released you and leaned over to the far side of his seat, and opened the compartment under his chair. When he sat back up, he was holding his bag, and placed it in his lap. You watched him as he unzipped it, and looked around quickly as if he was hiding a huge secret. Your brows pinched together, but you almost kissed him when you saw him produce three containers of packed food.

You almost laughed when he raised his index finger to his lips as if to say “shh.” Then he nodded to the stewardess who was on the next isle over.

You bit the inside of your lip to keep from laughing, and nodded. His serious expression didn’t help your efforts though. Christoph quickly and efficiently opened the containers, and you found that it was definitely some very well made food from the hotel. He handed you one of them, and kept one for himself before quickly bringing the blanket over the container and nodded at you to do the same. Not a moment later, the stewardess came by your seat, and paused for a moment.

“Are you both warming up?“ she asked, though her eyes flicked to both of your laps.

“Much better, thank you.” You said innocently.

You knew she knew. You could see it in her eyes. But she gave you a tight smile before going back to her station at the front of the business class section.

You both look at each other, and could not help but giggle. Christoph chuckled and shook his head before removing the blanket and began to eat carefully. You joined him. You moaned when the delicious food began to fill your empty stomach, and visibly saw Christoph pause at the sound.

You felt your cheeks warm when you realized he must have been thinking of the two of you the night before.

You finished half of the food, then snapped the lid back on and handed it to Christoph when he was done. Another two hours dragged by and you felt your eyes become heavy. You looked over at Christoph, and studied his face. The slope of his nose, and his defined chin. Before you knew it, your head had fallen onto his shoulder and you drifted off to sleep with his hand cradling yours.

Christoph smiled down at you, and after a glance around the aisles, brushed some of your hair from your eyes, and could barely concentrate on the words in his book.

Landing in Los Angeles was far more stressful than you had anticipated. A group of inconspicuous guards greeted both you and Christoph, and began to guide the two of you to another large black vehicle. Outside the airport, you noticed a spattering of photographers and reporters looking for a celebrity to bother. To your horror, a group of them spotted you, and your ears were flooded with the sound of clicking cameras, and a onslaught of questions- some interesting and many invasive.

You kept your head down, and tried to focus on Christoph and the sound of your suitcase behind you. A few of the paparazzi were pushed away by the guards, but many of them persisted all the way up until the car pulled away.

You let out a long sigh, and felt Christoph grasp your hand again.

“I see what you mean about missing the anonymity.” You joked, and he breathed out a laugh.

You had barely had a moment to settle into your hotel before you were carted off to the tv studio. All you had had time for was to wash off the grime of the airport from your skin, freshen your face with some makeup and slip on your dress. You had been given a far too beautiful dress by Oscar de la Renta to wear, and you found yourself not quite feeling comfortable in it. You still felt like you didn’t deserve it all.

Your apprehension must have shown as your nails began to dig into your hand. Christoph looked over to you from beside you in the backseat, and took note of your hands.

“You look wonderful, my dear.” He whispered to you.

You looked over to the older man, and found him staring right back at you as the car pulled up to the studio. He grasped your hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze, before stepped out of the car. You took an extra second to prepare yourself and went to open the door, but was beaten to it when the Viennese man held it open for you.

“Such a gentleman.” You teased him. He only shrugged slightly and placed a hand on the small of your back to guide you.

The two of you were taken into the massive building, and guided down a series of halls until the staff member opened a door to a dressing room. Everything still felt so surreal as you stood there, and looked around. You knew that countless celebrities had stood exactly where you were. You remained standing for a moment in order to get some water, and Christoph took a seat on the couch; you almost wanted to take the time to curl up into his side, but you knew that not only were there cameras, there was a high chance of someone walking in, and you weren’t about to go against Christoph’s preference for privacy.

“ You look very handsome.” You commented, looking at him shyly across the room. Christoph tore his eyes from a poster on the wall, and smiled at you; he held his hand out to bring you closer. A smile faced your face to match his, and you sat yourself next to him and played with the water bottle in your hand.

“Is James nice?” You asked finally.

Christoph shrugged and said, “What I can tell you is that I do not entirely want to walk off the studio when I am here.”

You laughed softly at that. “So he’s no Jimmy Fallon?”

Christoph chuckled and shook his head, “Not quite.”

Before you knew it, there was a knock on the door, and a head poked in. “They’re just about ready for you both. If you’ll come with me?” The woman said. You recognized her from watching previous interviews, and almost got a strange sense of deja vu.

You stood, and Christoph gestured for you to walk ahead of him. You focused on your breathing, and tried to replace the nerves you felt with excitement.

Just like with Graham, you listened to the tail end of the monologue that was beginning to introduce you.

“…from Inglorious Bastards and Spectre, but this time he is joined by the newest addition to the Tarantino family in this years Rapture. Please welcome Christoph Waltz and Y/n L/n!”

Just like before, your ears rang when the audience clapped and cheered. If you had had it your way, you would have followed behind Christoph, but he was having none of that; he remained behind you with his hands folded behind his back.

You pushed your shoulders back and you were blinded for a moment when the curtain was pulled back, and the audience roared on either side of the aisle leading down the stairs. You plastered a smile on your face, and waved as you took the lead and descended the stairs. You shook hands and high-fived a few people as they reached out for you. As a viewer, it was quite endearing to see, but to actually experience it was a little intimidating. You hoped against hope that you didn’t accidentally hit someone in the face, or tip down the stairs; to your luck, your feet finally found flat ground, and you made eye contact with James Corden as you walked up the steps to the stage.

Fan or not, you were a little nervous. Just like you had been with Graham, this was someone you had watched countless interviews of over the years. The band was even riffing an improved song to welcome you and Christoph like you had seen them do for names far bigger than yours.

James clapped and extended his hand to you as you approached, which you shook enthusiastically.

“Welcome, welcome to the show!” He smiled and said over the crowd’s clapping.

You smiled back and nodded, “Thank you so much. It’s wonderful to be here.” You managed to say.

He released your hand and you took a seat on the grey couch, thanking god that this one had a back to lean against. You watched Christoph take the steps up to the main stage, and lost yourself in watching his mesmerising charm. You still didn’t understand how people thought of him as rude or unfriendly- he was far from either of those.

Christoph quickly joined you on the couch after being embraced by James; his warmth next to you calmed your nerves instantly. Then, like a tonne of bricks, you remembered the running joke that Christoph was in love with the bassist on the show, Hagar, and your stomach grew steely almost instantly. Yes, you had watched many of his interviews, and that particular one had always made you feel something. You hoped that your sudden change in mood didn’t show.

Why am I jealous?

You fought with yourself to remain calm and remind yourself that he was a person and allowed to flirt with people…besides he didn’t even know you the last time he was on the show. Your existential crisis carried on silently behind your grin for 10 seconds as you dreaded his going and saying hello to her. But to your surprise, he only gave the woman a little wave- a stark contrast to the detour and handshake had given her the last time he had been on the show.

Your thoughts were cut off, however, when James began the interview.

“Now Christoph I must address the elephant in the room here.” James said, looking at the Viennese man in a chiding way, but Christoph only clasped his hand in his lap and looked at him calmly, “Our dear Hagar was snubbed by your arrival this evening!”

The audience laughed.

“Not at all, I waved.” Christoph said simply, demonstrating the action.

James laughed and in a fake serious tone said, “ Is there someone else?”

And to his shock, Christoph smiled and shrugged.

There was a slight “Ooh” that echoed through the crowd, and you were so thankful that no one would feel how warm your cheeks were. James did a double take, and stared at the older man with his mouth open, not expecting that answer.

“Who? Who is it? I won’t tell anyone I swear-“ the room laughed, “This is totally a secret…only the entire world will know.” He tried to keep his laugh in.

You smiled and laughed along as if it wasn’t you that had been pinned beneath the older man with his cock bruising your cervix and had a hickey from him on your breast. You squeezed your thighs at the memory of it, and to your horror, you saw Christoph catch the tiny movement.

The men continued to stare at one another for a moment in a game of chicken. Finally, James broke and laughed it off.

“Well now I have to ask you, y/n, how on earth did you handle meeting Christoph at first? I understand that you were sort of…thrust into this role. No offence but he’s not exactly a teddy bear.”

“Like you, you mean?” You teased back, and James let out an unexpected laugh along with the audience. You continued, “Well if I’m honest, Mr. Waltz is very different behind the scenes. He’s actually very kind to those he likes.”

James looked between the two of you and got that you were implying that he didn’t like him. “Ah. I see.” He said in faux dejection and inspected his cards.

“If I may be quite honest,” you looked to the older man next to you who was watching you intently, “ I was so nervous when I found out I would be working near Mr. Waltz, and my anxiety was off the charts- the rest of the cast didn’t help at all,” you laughed good-natredly, “And my hands were shaking and I swore I developed asthma within two minutes because lungs were definitely not working…but everyone was so so kind and welcoming. I still have nightmares over all my first meetings with everyone, but I don’t think I could have asked for a more grounded cast to work with.” The audience awe’d and clapped, and you smiled. “I swear after every take where things got physical, someone would come up to me and ask if I was alright.” You laughed again.

“Hey now…no one does that here!” James gasped, looking out at his team, “Must be nice to have people who care about you.” He raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips as he gave his team a cold shoulder.

“Now, Christoph this is now the third Tarantino film you have done, is that right?” He asked, moving the conversation along.

“It is, and I hope not the last.” He said, casually adjusting himself in his seat, and placing an arm around the back of the couch by your shoulders.

James noted the action instantly, “What would you say is the biggest difference between this role and the other two you have played?”

Christoph sucked in a breath at the silly question.

“This one was quite a departure from the usual characters I have portrayed in the past with Quinton…not that any of them have truly been similar. I would say that the only shared trait would be the fact that each of them…” he waved his hand, “…do away with people for a living in some way.”

“That’s very true,” James gasped in realization, “Hans Landa the Nazi was…well a Nazi, and King Schultz was a bounty hunter, correct?” Christoph nodded along and you could see him remembering the roles with fondness, “And now your character in Rapture is named Maximillian, and he is…some sort of hit man? Is there something you’re trying to tell us?” James laughed.

“Not at the moment.” Christoph quipped. You grinned and listened along politely, enjoying their banter, though you could tell that Christoph was not as at ease here as he had been in London.

“Well…someone keep an eye on him, yes? Is he always like this?” James held his cards to the side of his mouth to pretend whisper to you.

To humour him, you leaned forward as well, “Always. It’s great- a nice departure from the usual conversations.” You said looking over at Christoph tenderly. He held your gaze a little longer then he should have, and something in James clicked. He leaned back and stared at the two of you comically then out at the audience who was clearly picking up on his message. They began to laugh softly.

“Should- should we all leave?” He asked looking around.

“Hm? No, why?” You asked innocently, leaning into Christoph’s arm just to mess with him.

James stared at the both of you, but you both maintained a stoic, innocent face and shrugged when he widened his eyes at you as if to try and drive his point home. The audience’s laughter only grew and you joined.

“Right,” he said unconvinced, “Well I do have something to show the two of you. Last night, the two of you were on another show, and y/n you sang a frankly beautiful version of Vienna, correct?” James asked.

You narrowed your eyes at him, dreading what was in store. “ Correct.”

“Well it seems that the clip has gone quite viral, and fans have lost their minds over the two of you, and have been editing the song Vienna over clips of you two in the film, Rapture, take a look.” James said, and pointed to the screen off stage.

Your hands went ice cold as a series of short fan edited videos played on the small screen just off the stage. You did your best to remain calm, but you were in complete shock at the detail the creators had put into the videos. Some even took clips from the interview and captured little looks you had given each other and hadn’t even noticed. What you had thought was just a little cheeky gesture to humour a host, now felt like a huge mistake. You were worried that Christoph would break things off out of fear of being plagued by the media; honestly you wouldn’t blame him if he did. Having a relationship in the spotlight was almost impossible.

You chanced a glance at the older man, and he was watching the screen with a little, amused smile. Just as you went to look away, Christoph caught your head turning and looked over at you. He gazed at you softly for just a moment, and you felt the hand behind you stroke your shoulder; it was so quick that if you had blinked, you would have missed it entirely.

Suddenly, the audience began to clap, and all attention was on the both of you. “Look at that, wow.” James shook his head, “The two of you broke the internet overnight- do you understand how big that is?” He gushed.

Christoph gestured with his hands as if to say, “It’s not a big deal.”

You laughed along with James and the audience, “It’ll be one hell of an opening night on Friday that’s for sure…just a heads up though, it’s not just Mr. Waltz and I in the film.” You said as if you had no clue what he was referring to.

James pursed his lips and looked unimpressed at the camera like you had seen in sitcoms. But his good-natured smile returned quickly as he shook his head.

“Well I can’t say your wrong- they’ll be selling off tickets on Ebay! Y/n, Christoph it’s been a pleading to have you here. That’s all we have time for tonight, go see these two in Rapture on Friday night, don’t miss it! We’ll be right back after the break.” He said in true talk-show host fashion. You and Christoph waved and smiled as the cameras panned across you both, until the producer at the front gave you all the sign that the broadcast had ended.

“And we’re out!”

You breathed out a sigh of relief and went to thank James for his time, but he beat you two it.

“You two are a menace and I will get to the bottom of this.” He said with a small smile.

“James did you hit your head today?” Christoph asked innocently.

James looked at him, ready for a deflection, “No…not today.” He hid his smile. You could tell he appreciated the older man’s humour.

“I only ask because it seems you are imagining things.” Christoph said and squeezed your shoulder visibly, making James glance at the motion and roll his eyes.

“Right, Right. You two keep your secrets.” He joked, “It was lovely to see you again Christoph, take care. And y/n welcome to the industry, and good luck with this one.” He pointed with his cards to the older man beside you.

You laughed gently and nodded and stood with Christoph, “Thank you so much. It was a pleasure.” You both shook his hand, and let a staff member guide you from the stage, back to the dressing room.

You waited patiently as they unclipped your mic and guided you both down the hall to your waiting car outside. You found it calming to stay quiet after an interview, letting your nerves to calm down. You slid into the plush backseat first, and Christoph slipped in next to you.

As soon as the door shut and the driver turned on the radio, you sucked in a breath.

“Christoph if that bothered you, I understand…” you murmured, not looking at him.

He shrugged, “No one can prove a single thing…I am not terribly concerned.” He sighed. You went to speak again, but his firm hand slipping under the skirt of your dress and onto your thigh made any words in your mouth die on your tongue. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Christoph smirk, and lean over to you in the dim backseat.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice your predicament, mein Schatz.” He purred in your ear, “Would you like me to help?” His hand moved a little higher, and you could only nod.

“Gut(good).” He released you just as quickly as he had touched you, and you let out the breath you had been holding. This man was going to be the death of you- your were certain of it.

That night, after you had been sufficiently exhausted by the older man, you laid your head on his chest and traced circles on his chest as you thought lazily.

You didn’t remember falling asleep. But Christoph watched every moment of you drifting off. He watched as your finger on his skin slowed and how your soft breath grew heavier; how your muscles relaxed and you let your walls down. He kissed your head and cradled you in his arms.

And there he stayed.

In a state of pure rapture.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

@purplelupins @funandfancyfree

[dolphinsapphire28]

Gimme your love feat. Christoph Waltz (Fan Video) by Kati McFly

Fan video made by Kati McFly (YouTube)

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCpQi8uqxDeD9pm-nbkqx0wQ

Featured song: “Gimme Your Love” by Morcheeba (album: Head Up High)

Featured movie clips:

Water for Elephants

Jennerwein

Das merkwuerdige Verhalten geschlechtsreifer Großstaedter...

Das Geheimnis im Wald

The Zero Theorem

Der Tourist (Der Postkartenmoerder)

Dienstreise - Was für eine Nacht

Die Zuercher Verlobung

Das Juengste Gericht

Man(n) sucht Frau

Kati McFly, if you’re anywhere here on Tumblr, I salute and thank you for this wonderful gem!!! I lost count to how many times I replayed it.

[stupidfuckingwindow]

[allloudontheeasternfront]

Everything at Once Part 5

Dieter Hellstrom x Original Fem Character

Btw this is very short! (Part 6 will be up soon as well!!!)

Sorry that this is later and shittier than expected. I had some personal issues to take care of and I kind of straight up procrastinated lmao. Hopefully y'all like it :)))

Warnings: antisemitism, cursing, some implied angst and smut, Dieter is a sad boi, Hans is meanie lol. Again, I do not support Nazis in any shape or form. This is just for the Inglourious Basterds fandom stuff.

.

A few days past and Camille still hasn't heard from Dieter.

Did he forget about her?

Was he hurt?

Did he leave her?

Awful and heartwrenching thoughts clouded Camille's brain. She sat on her rocking chair with a book in her hand, and a self-crocheted blanket on her lap.

Fuck... she thought. Why do I keep thinking about him?

Her mind was flooded with the passion he shared the other night. What would happen if he kept going? Would he be nice?

Her mind then went to the emblems and symbols that scattered that man's uniform. What if he found out? What would he do?

The thought of what Nazis were capable of made her world stop.

Her throat went as dry as sand and tears prickled in her eyes.

Feeling worthless and hopeless, she curled herself in a ball on the chair and weeped.

Why does my first love have to my enemy? She thought.

Eventually the sun would set, people would sleep peacefully and the world would stop turning.

The same evening, Dieter was sat in his god forsaken Gestapo office, going over all the shitty personnel paperwork Hans has so gratefully gifted him.

Asshole.

The personnel paperwork included the Jews and Communists living in the arrondissement in the last ten years that Dieter needs to find and eventually arrest.

Angrily, Dieter flipped over one person's file so roughly it cut the middle of his thumb and index finger.

"Shittttt!" Dieter exclaimed putting the wound to his mouth.

His eyes fell to the paperwork.

The face seemed familiar.

Though in black and white, the long curly hair was a lighter shade, the skin pale, dark lips, light eyes...light doe eyes...

His mind panicked.

Riddled with anxiety, he looked at the person's name...

No.

It cant be.

Robichaux. Camille.

Age 21.

Hair- blonde

Eyes- blue

le septième, Paris.

Owner of Boulangerie François

Jew.

No communist allegations to date.

Father- in custody

Mother- deceased

Unknown family members - possible hiding/ deceased

Other information unavailable.

Dieter's heart was beating out of his chest at a rapid speed. If it was possible, his skin became paler. Nausea and anxiety filled his body.

His thin fingers traced the picture of the young baker... tears threatening to spill.

Stupid waitress...

A part of him wanted to prove himself to Landa. To prove he isnt some dickhead officer who is capable of being promoted. To prove he isnt some desk jockey.

But a very real part of him sunk heavily in his heart, wanted to hide Camille..to shield her from world. Make her safe.

He looked at the giant swatiska flag in the corner of the room. It mocked him. It displayed nothing but hatred and cowardness.

What can I do to protect her?

I am nothing but a uniform controlled by a pompous asshole.

Footsteps woke Dieter out of his saddened daydream. He stood up straight with his arm raised in a salute welcoming his higher up.

Landa...

"So...how is paperwork going along, Dieter old boy?" Hans asked smarmy. "Dont tell you fell asleep again?"

It was one time...

"Negative sir. The missing citizens have been traced." Dieter replied emotionless.

Hans walked over slowly to his desk and saw Camille's documents on full display. He picked it up and sighed.

"Our little baker girl, eh? Who knew he was a dirty jew? Her cafe was so clean." Hans said condescendingly.

Dieter tried to swallow the lump in his throat.

Hans looked at him dead in the face.

"Find her tomorrow."

"But Sir..."

"Do not undermine my authority Hellstrom. I gave you an order."

Dieter sighed...

"Do you understand?" The evil stone cold look on Hans's face was chilling.

"Ja, Standartenführer."

"Gut. Keep working. You're not off until you're done." Hand left the room.

Dieter collapsed in his chair with a loud sigh escaping his lips.

He took Camille's documents in his hands and scared at her face. Studying it.

"I'm sorry..."

He downed his glass of whiskey in one go.

He drifted off to the night were Camille was under him, completely submitted. Dirty thoughts clouded his brain space. Her quiet sighs, her soft skin below his fingers, her eyes looking into his...his uniform pants got tight all of a sudden.

He looked at the documents once more. His eyebrows furrowed in frustration.

What if I lie to Landa...everyone lies to the prick so why cant I?

A plan was now in progress for Hellstrom.

He folded up Camilles paper and secretly stuck them in this coat pocket. He grabbed the main "Jew" paper and found her name.

After rummaging through his drawers he found white ink. Carefully and surely erasing Camilles name until there was nothing but a clear white line above the black ink. He blew on the paper to dry for safe measurement. Dieter smiled at himself, feeling accomplished.

But a real feel of crippling guilt creeped in him...

To be continued...

@whore4waltz @rurivu @xoxocillian @fridaycanbesadsometimes @racheljo47 @whitechoc135 @officerh4t @blueberrypancakesworld @hanslandasstrudel @gentlemenashortviewbacktothepast

(Lemme know if u wanna be tagged.)

[yagirlsanauthor]

Regus Patoff Taking An Interest in You Would Include...

AN: Okay you guys. Everyone knows the drill by now. Once again I have yet to find any x reader content for our zaddy Regus Patoff (even though the show came out like a week ago...shut up). Plus, I saw a few posts complaining about the lack of content. So, I have decided to take it upon myself to see if I can write a little somethin' somethin' for all you mfs out there thirsting for this guy. Enjoy :))

P.S. This is soooo fucking long omg. I'm so sorry.

Word Count: 2,332

Pairing: Regus Patoff x GN!Reader

Warnings: Spoilers for The Consultant!! Slight NSFW 18+ Below the Cut!!

--------------------------------------------------------------

~ You had worked at Compware for a little over 5 months before the untimely death of your boss, and were an intern and somewhat personal assistant for Sang-Woo.

~ When Sang was still alive, your main job was to deal with whatever he needed. Fetching him coffee, lunch, a document he's misplaced, help arrange meetings, and generally do any other necessary things for him and any of the more important guests that met with Mr. Sang. That's how you met him.

~ One day, you were putzing along, cleaning up and organizing a few files that your boss had needed for tomorrows meeting, when you had been called up to his office.

~ He didn't clarify if he needed anything, or what he needed from you, he just sounded tense and it sounded urgent, so you quickly made your way to his office.

~ As you came around to the main door of Sang's office, you could hear an unknown voice with a strange, what sounded to be, vague European accent, speaking with Sang.

~ And as you pushed open the last door, your are met with the sight of a very sharply dressed, and quite handsome, older gentleman.

~ The air seems to shift as you enter the room, and though you struggle to take your eyes off of this intriguing new man, you force your gaze settle back onto the man who called you here in the first place, Sang.

~ He quickly asks you to give the man across from him a brief tour as well as show him his way out. He looked pale and sweaty and sounded extremely shaky, almost like he just ran a marathon and was fighting to catch his breath. His eyes were also shifting all around the room, landing everywhere else except on him.

~ You quickly nodded your head and opened the office door, beckoning this stranger to follow you out.

~ Sang and his guest shook hands before he turned and followed suit.

~ During the tour, he wasn't very chatty. You provided a bit of information about the employees and what everyone did there, but he hardly seemed interested, in fact he didn't seem like he was listening at all. He asked a few simple questions about the building itself but nothing about what you actually did there, or what the company was even about.

~ As the tour came to an end, you eventually walked him out, and assumed you'd never really have to see him or speak with him again, as you never typically have had any reoccurring interactions with any of Sang's collaborators in the past.

~ But, as days pass, and Sang's unfortunate death pops up, your eyes land on a vaguely familiar face in the office.

~ This time, however, he actually introduced himself.

~ For some reason, it's like time had slowed and the world was now running at half speed.

~ He looks up at you as you approach him, and he cracks a growing smile. He stretches out his hand toward you, and with that oh-so-familiar European tone, lets his name fall from his mouth. "Regus Patoff."

~ After exchanging pleasantries, he puts you to work. Something along the lines of "Whatever you did for Mr. Sang, while he was alive, you'll do for me..."

~ You didn't think much of him at first, only that he was a bit of an enigma and very eccentric, but beyond that, all you really had to do for him was bring him a coffee or grab some food if he'd ask. A far less demanding job than when Sang was in charge.

~ It wasn't until about a few weeks or so after he had assumed the role of "boss" that things started to get more intense around the office.

~ With the rise of the new up and coming mobile game, Jungle Odyssey, he had asked you to sit in on a brainstorming meeting and take notes.

~ As the meeting progressed, he had passed around a timer and everyone had a short amount of time to pitch their ideas to him. As it reached the last person, he let out a disgruntled sigh, letting everyone else in the room know that he was not pleased with any of the ideas he heard.

~ Without thinking, you let one of your own ideas slip from your mouth.

~ He slowly turned to you with an unreadable expression, and in that moment you were sure you were either going to be severely told off or fired for your interruption.

~ It wasn't until you saw a mischievous glint in his eyes and a small smirk grace his lips that you realized he was intrigued by what you had said.

~ From then on his behavior toward you became a lot more...friendly?

~ Typically, when you would bring him something, he'd let out a quiet and monotone 'thank you' and would pay no attention to anything else you'd have to say, solely keeping his gaze down and focused on the work in front of him.

~ However, as of late, he's started asking you a bit more personal questions.

~ At first, he had asked you questions like where your favorite place was to eat. Or if there were any good clubs around. You had originally thought that he was asking simply because he was new to the area and was looking for a bite to eat. But then the questions began to shift into something more.

~ Now, whenever you brought him a coffee or a print copy of a file he needed, he would actually stop what he was doing and ask about your day, or what kind of body mist you were wearing, what shampoo and conditioner you use, what was your shoe size, or what did you eat for breakfast that morning.

~ He started initiating physical contact as well.

~ A man such as Regus Patoff seems (and most often is) untouchable. The first and, what you thought would be, only time you had come into physical contact with him was when you had first shook his hand. But now, it seems like you're constantly running into situations where your hands brush as you hand him his tablet, or he lightly grazes your arm as you lean over to place his lunch down in front of him. Once, he even placed his palm on your lower back to gently move you out of the way.

~ Gestures like this would be quite ordinary from anyone else, but from him, it was so out of character that you couldn't help but begin to pick up on it.

~ This continued for days until, one night, around three in the morning, you receive a call from Mr. Patoff himself, asking you to come in to the office.

~ This wasn't anything new really. When you worked for Sang, he would often text you or call you late at night, asking you to pick up something from the office that he forgot to grab, and needed you to then deliver it to his place. So you threw on your most work appropriate sweats and raced back over to the office.

~ Once you arrived at work, you let yourself in and made your way up to his office.

~ As you walk in, you notice he looks a lot less tidy than he did during the day. His blazer was off and resting on the back of his chair, his tie was undone as well, lying loosely around his shoulders, and the first few buttons of his shirt were undone, letting a bit of chest hair peak out from underneath.

~ He doesn't say much other than a gentle 'ah, you made it' and a 'come here' while he quirks his index finger in the air to beckon you closer.

~ As you slowly walk over to his desk, prepared to take a seat in the chair across from him, he lets out a sort of tsk sound and pats the spot on his desk right in front of him.

~ When you move to take a timid seat on the surface of his desk, he quickly reaches for your hands and pulls them toward himself, ultimately pulling you down along with them.

~ Your eyes were still trained on his hands connecting with yours until he began to speak. And it wasn't until you looked up had you noticed just how close your faces had been.

~ "Do you know why I called you here tonight?"

~ You shook your head unsurely. From what you've heard from your coworkers, this man could be ruthless and had been known to strike when they least expected it. So, you braced yourself for the worst.

~ "You've peaked my interest. And I am very hard man to impress."

~ He goes on to commend you for the work that you do for him and the ideas you've shared in the past regarding a few company products.

~ With the close proximity and the seemingly endless words of praise sent your way, you can feel a heat rushing up your neck and to your cheeks.

~ Sang had hardly ever acknowledged your existence if it didn't benefit him, let alone call you into his office, hold your hands in his lap, and compliment you.

~ Too lost in your train of thought, you hardly notice the warm hand that comes up and cups your cheek.

~ Again, you look up and gaze into his hazel eyes.

~ After a long while of just looking at one another, immersed in the quiet of his office, you begin to open your mouth the break the silence, but right before you can do so, he stands up from his seat, now towering over you ask you're still seated on his desk.

~ From this lower angle, he looks menacing, like a predator eyeing down his prey.

~ He remains still, holding your gaze until he, himself breaks the contact and makes his way over to a cabinet in the corner of the room opens it up. He pulls out what looks to be two glasses in his right hand and walks back over with a bottle of dark liquor in his left.

~ He places them down onto the desk beside you and begins to pour a generous amount of alcohol into both of your glasses.

~ Without saying a word, he picks up both glasses, offering one to you, and keeping the other with him as he settles himself back into his chair.

~ You both make a silent gesture of 'cheers' before knocking the mystery liquid back.

~ It burns as it goes down, and it tastes like sweet medicine.

~ While you're busy grimacing, you hear a small chuckle to your left and look over to see your superior giggling at your animated show of disgust.

~ "Not a big whiskey fan I presume?" he says with a grin.

~ You shake your head and let out a lighthearted, "no."

~ After sharing a few more drinks, and loosening up a bit more, you find that you both exchanging laughs and are seemingly lost in meaningless conversations about anything and everything, ranging from work talk to chatting about your biggest pet peeves, or guilty pleasures.

~ The air within the office had changed from a stiff and stale cell to the warmest, coziest place on earth. The right company had aided that too of course ;)

~ Boundaries had lost all sense of meaning that night, as you began to run your hands along his arm and had quickly found your fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck as you rested your arm across his shoulders. He too became a lot more touchy and began rubbing circles into your inner thigh with his thumbs, slowly creeping higher and higher causing a very different heat to pool within you.

~ You weren't sure if it was the alcohol throwing you off balance, or if it was just the raw gravitational pull from someone as charming as Regus Patoff, but you were slowly inching your self further and further toward him, almost to the point that you were sharing the same breath.

~ If it wasn't for one of the whiskey glasses, that he had placed beside you earlier, diverting your attention by falling and shattering onto the floor from your movement, you most likely would have ended up in his lap.

~ Soon though, you had to come back down to reality as the affects of the alcohol began to wear off. Plus, the sound of the glass shattering had you far more alert and sobered up than you thought.

~ A little embarrassed and overly apologetic, you slowly started peeling yourself off of him, realizing just how touchy you had been for the past few hours.

~ "I should probably head back home for tonight, if, of course, you don't need anything else that is, sir?" you finally said after a moment of silence.

~ He looked almost...disappointed by what you said. And looked as though he was going to ask you something.

~ His brows knit together in an earnest fashion and he opened his mouth, only to quickly shut it.

~ Across his face appears a light smile that doesn't seem to quite reach his eyes.

~ He helps you gather your things and leads you out of his office.

~ He walks you to the top of the stairs and bids you an adieu. But, before you begin your descent, he reaches for your hand, pulls it to his lips and places a gentle kiss to the back, never breaking his intense gaze.

~ He let out a final "goodnight" as you said your goodbyes as well and made your way down the glass steps.

~ He had watched you the entire way as you left the building, and only when you had finally made it outside and out of his sight did you let out a breath that you didn't even know you were holding in.

~ As you walk to your car, you find the fresh cool air of the night has you sobering up. Though, not from the alcohol you had, but from the hypnotizing aura that is Regus Patoff.

[puppymlovemail]

♫ baby steps!

word count: 5k overall, roughly 700 per member

pairings: OT8! x fem reader

warnings: mentions of cutting fruit in changbins, brief mentions of work/working late/work related stress, CHILDREN/PARENTING!

summary: stray kids as parents. or just in a more domestic familial setting.

sorry some of these are RUSHED i just really wanted these blurbs out of my drafts! these are fresh off the printer so if u see any typos no u don’t. don’t even worry about it.

in other other news, i finally fixed the issue w my ask box so. it should be in my bio now! feel free to request something! or just pester me :)

Christopher Bang

To say your date night did not go to plan would be an understatement. You and your husband had gotten all dolled up to go to a red carpet event with the band, Chan even helped you zip up your velvet red dress and you helped him adjust his tie. Everything was going to plan until you were putting on your stilettos when Chan walked into the bedroom, caution written all over his face. “Sana just called. She can’t make it tonight, her car broke down on the way here.” He said, his right arm finding solace on your shoulder, his thumb rubbing small circles into your collarbone reassuringly. “How will the boys accept the award without their leader? You should go! I’ll stay and watch the kids.” You sighed, taking off your shoes and running a hand through your recently styled hair. He squeezed your shoulder to get your attention again, your gaze immediately turning back to his. “Absolutely not. Jeongin can make the acceptance speech, he’s the leader after all.” He teased, opting to sit next to you on your shared bed. “The boys understand that we’re parents now. So does the press. It’ll be alright if I miss one award show for the Bangs.” He leaned in and left a sweet kiss to your red lips. You cupped his face, fingers treading through the hair at the nape of his neck.

The moment was quickly cut when your three year old waddled into the room. “Mama!” She whinnied, immediately catching your and Chans attention. “Bath time!” She said, smile gracing her features, her eyes sparkling just like your husbands when he smiles. “And story time!” Her brother chimed, as he waltzed into the room, probably in search of his twin. Chans hand left your shoulder and squeezed your thigh quickly before clapping his hands together and standing up. “Bath first, story time second, you know this Tae.” He stated. “I thought Auntie Sana sleeping over tonight?” Tae inquired before whispering under his breath. Probably something about Sana letting his have story time first. “We decided we’d miss you way too much!” Chan then leaned down and grabbed his mini me. You giggled watching Tae try to squirm away playfully from his dad. Your daughter walked over to you, placing her hands on your knees to keep herself stable. “Up!” She chided, making grabby hands with her tiny little fingers. How could you say no?

That’s how you and Chan found yourself on your knees on the bathroom floor, situated in front of the master bathtub. “No more bubbles, Aera! Your brothers gonna drown in them darling.” You scolded, taking the soap away from her greedy hands. After that, the twins started conversing with each other, sharing a splash here and there and sharing their bath toys.

Chan leaned over and kissed your cheek, pulling away and interlocking his fingers with yours. “I love this. I love getting to do this with you.” He whispers. His words immediately make your cheeks tint. “I wouldn’t trade it for the world. You and them. Not even for a silly award.” You smiled, letting the warmth from the bath and from his words take over your being. “Best bath time ever, right guys?” You teased, directing the question to your children. “Would’ve been the bestest best if Auntie Sana was here.” Tae said, and his sister chimed in, “Yeah! Auntie Sana doesn’t hold hands with anyone but us!” She says, point at your hand interlocked with your husbands, your wedding ring on full display. “Bestest isn’t even a word, Tae!” Chan stated right before playfully splashing them with some of the bubbly water, their laughter filling the air with such love and joy. Your kids may be giant jokesters, but you know they get it from their dad and because of that you, as well, wouldn’t trade this for anything in the world.

Not even a silly award.

Lee Minho

Your husband had decided to take your son outside to look at the fresh snow from the most recent snowfall last night. It’s freezing fucking cold out so you couldn’t even begin to conjure up a reason for why they’d be gone for longer than 15 minutes. Little did you know your son had stumbled across a kitten, no older than four weeks at most. The cat had crawled right up to your son, and laid down on his mitten covered hands. He looked up at your husband with most love struck face imaginable. “He’s purring Dad! Must mean he likes me…” He hummed, moving one of his hands to very gently scratch behind the grey kittens ear. “Or it could just mean you’re warm and it’s well below freezing out here.” He stated, sending your son a knowing glance. “Pleaseeeeee! Dori would love to have another girl in the house!” He whined, very carefully cradling the kitten in his arms. “And your mother would not.” But after those words left his lips Minho got a good look at the feline. The poor thing was shivering and mewling, no doubt hungry and cold. A stray. His big hand reached out to very lightly stroke the kitten, whose tiny glazed eyes sparkled with the snow littered across her fur. He let a sigh escape him. “We’ll have to take her home to get her warm, but after that we have to call someone and see if they’ll take her, alright bud?”

At that your son practically jumped out of his skin with excitement as he started speed walking straight to your front door, his father in tow, shaking his head, a smile smile gracing his face.

That’s how you ended up here. A few years later. Sprawled out on the couch, your back against your husbands chest. Doongie situated to his left, Dori at his right. Soongie was sat loafed in your lap. The kitten? A grown adult cat by now, also laid across your sons lap, fast asleep. Your son? Also asleep, and a teenager at this point. Getting to watch your son grow up with his kitten was well worth the battle keeping the cat costed the family. You could remember to this day when your little boy all but ran into the house with the kitten mewling in his grasps as he held her out to you, snow dripping down his winter coat and puddling onto the wooden floors. “We’re keeping her.” And then Minho came through the door, closing it before exclaiming “No we’re not!” You couldn’t help my smile at the fondness of the memory.

“What’s going on in that head of yours, hm?” Minho whispered, leaving a fleeting kiss to the top of your ear from behind you. You leaned further into his chest, allowing the warmth of him and the cats and the family all situated on this couch take over your senses. “Would you believe me if I said my undying love for you?” You teased. “Absolutely not.” He chuckled, as his hands roamed your hair, lazily braiding strands together out of boredom. “I’m just thinking about our son and that damned cat.” You started, “Remember how mad I was when you finally told me you were thinking of keeping her?” You peered over your shoulder to look at him, his honey eyes meeting yours. “What can I say. She grew on me.” You scoffed, leaning your head back against him, breaking eye contact. “Either that or you just love the idea of this little family of 7. Whether you care to admit it.”

“Well technically speaking 7 isn’t little.”

You grinned, smacking him lightly on the thigh in retort. “Oh shut up!”

Seo Changbin

You rubbed your eyes for the tenth time in the last three minutes. Waking up at 6am every Saturday to ensure your boys had lunches packed for their little league games was becoming a usual routine in your house, however it did not mean you enjoyed it.

Your husband was stood next you at the kitchen island, helping you cut up the fresh honey apples you both harvested from your garden a hour ago. Of course, only after having woken up the boys and telling them to get dressed and packed for the busy day ahead. Changbin turned to you, apple slice in his left hand as his right went underneath it, as it it were going to leave crumbs. “Open wide.” He instructed, flashing you a smile, his dimples on display. You fall more and more in love with him everyday, you think. You both certainly didn’t think you’d be here 10 years ago, but you wouldn’t trade it for the world. You open your mouth willingly and let him guide the bite sized slice into you mouth. “How is it?” He asks, his eyes glowing as he locks them with yours. “Tasty.” You hum, before redirecting your eyes back to the task and closing the tupperware on your finished slices.

Just as Changbin was about to close his two sets of tupperware, a cry sounded over the baby monitor placed on the kitchen table. Worry rushed onto your face as you grabbed the monitor without hesitation. Before you could utter a word your husband wrapped his arms around you, and let his face rest on your shoulder. “‘S okay! I’ll get him. It’s about time he got up anyway. You finish up here.” He stated, leaving a lingering kiss to your neck before pulling away and nodding his head to you reassuringly as he headed up the stairs. He knew how stressed everything has been making you lately, especially with your youngest just turning one. You smiled to yourself as you placed the monitor aside and finished putting snacks in the kids rightful lunchboxes. All of a sudden the monitor next to you lit up, detecting movement and your eyes darted to it once again. The quality had increased substantially since Changbin opened the blinds, it would seemed. “Hey kiddo! You ready to see your brothers play some ball?” He questioned, as he carefully reached into the crib to cradle the fussy baby. “Nah I think you’re more interested in seeing Momma, huh?” He hummed, leaving a kiss to his sons head. The toddler immediately rested his head against your husbands chest, finding comfort in his touch. His little thumb sucked in between his teeth. Trying to pry him off pacifiers wasn’t working very well, obviously. The moment left an unspoken feeling in your heart. Your thoughts were quickly cut short when you heard padded footsteps speed down the stairs to reveal your second child slide into the kitchen; heading straight for you.

“Momma! Are you ready to see me hit a home gun!” He giggled as he wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his head against your stomach. “It’s called a home run, Jun.” You teased as your reached down and ruffled his hair. He turned his attention to you and peered upwards. His eyes mirrored his dads almost perfectly. “Whatever!” He smiled, as he grabbed the lunchbox laid in front of you with his initials embroidered onto the center of it. Then it hit you. You and Changbin had only managed to make time for packing lunches this morning, you didn’t even check to see if the mini van had the kids gear.

“Hey! Iseul, do you have your baseball glove? Or is it in the car?” You shouted from the base of the first floor kitchen, only to get no response from your eldest upstairs. Tweens. You open your mouth again, preparing to scream a bit louder when you see your husband approach you, with your youngest in his arm, situated on his hip. He places his free hand on your shoulder and leaves a kiss to your cheek, making you complete forget why you had your mouth open in the first place. “Iseul left his glove at practice remember? We have to stop there before the game.” You rolled your eyes. Of course he left his glove at practice. At this rate, you were all going to be late to the game. As if Changbin could read your mind, his hand traveled to cup your cheek and redirect your gaze to him.

“Hey, we’re leaving early, alright? We’ll get there in one piece, don’t worry.” You leaned in and left a chaste kiss on his lips.

“How the Seo family makes it to every event unscathed boggles my mind every time.”

Hwang Hyunjin

Work these days was wearing you out. Your boss had insisted you put in extra hours considering you took two weeks off a few months ago to celebrate your husbands birthday, which just so conveniently was followed by your anniversary AND your daughters birthday the following week. If you had to guess you’d just assume your boss hated people with happy families because he’s been working you like a dog with extra paperwork. When you do get home, which hasn’t been till roughly 9 pm every night now, you felt utterly and completely exhausted and guilty. Not only were you missing your daughters childhood but you were causing Hyunjin to stay home more often, or get off work earlier so he could watch your daughter.

Today was no different. You put the key in the front door and after 5 unsuccessful tries you finally got the door to unlock. You walked in and noticed the living room TV didn’t happen to have a K-Drama on. Maybe Hyunjin put Yujun to bed early? You’ll probably find him in bed hogging all the blankets, you’re sure his day hasn’t been very easy either. You sighed as you kicked off your shoes and hung up your coat and purse. “Jinnie?” You whispered through the hallway, only to get no response. That was until you stopped in front of your daughters room, her door left ajar just by an inch.

“Oh but you must try the tea! Mr. Rabbit made it all by himself!” You heard your daughters voice ring, there she was, sat at her pink table dressed in her matching hot pink Disney princess dress. “Well if he made it all by himself…” That’s when your eyes drifted to your husband. You couldn’t decide if you should burst into laughter or coo at the sight. There he was, sitting crisscross applesauce in front of the table with an Elsa dress on. Most definitely Felix’s from Halloween, you could tell by how it was slightly too short on him considering his stature, which his daughter inherited quite the same, one of these days you’re going to have to get her a bigger table, as she was already towering over it.

His pinky lifted off the teacup as he brought it to his lips and took a sip. A grimace met his face as he lowered his cup back to the saucer on the table. “W-Wow! Mr. Rabbit has exquisite taste.” Hyunjin said, very obviously struggling to gag on the tea that was probably a mix of various liquids in your fridge.

It was then that you couldn’t help but laugh as you pushed the door open all the way. Your daughters eyes lit up the minute she saw you, a smile eating half her face as she ran towards you, almost toppling you over in an attempt to hug you. “Momma! You’re here just in time for the main course!” Hyunjin joined her side, patting her head, standing before you in his glittery blue dress. “Oh also this is Princess Elsa.” She stated, gesturing to Hyunjin. You leaned in to kiss him on the lips. “Welcome home, Y/N.” He whispered, chasing your lips for another kiss. “Leave that out of the castle! No Mom and Dad kissing allowed! Now go get a dress Momma! You have to join us!” Your daughter stated before trying to push you back out the door to make you retrieve a dress. “Let me go with her my queen! I have to make sure she picks out the best dress!” Hyunjin chimed, stepping into the doorway before wrapping an arm around your waist and leading you down the hallway to the master bedroom. You heard your daughter say something about setting an alarm and you better not take too long on your way into your room.

“Sorry for leaving you here to fend for yourself for so long Jinnie. I promise that today should be my last late d-“ and with that you were cut off by your husbands lips on yours, his mouth dancing gracefully with your own. His favorite way to express his love for you was always through kisses. He pulled away and held your face between his hands, as if he had the whole world in his palms. “Don’t apologize! I love being your husband just as much as I love being a father for our daughter, honey.” You all but melted at his words as you held him against you just a little tighter. “Plus, she hosts the best tea parties in all of land, if you must know.” He whispers, letting his fingers drum against your cheekbone as he takes in your features. “She loves you.” You hum, getting lost in his eyes. “She loves us.” He reassures, leaving one last kiss to your lips before you’re interrupted by a voice in your doorway. “That doesn’t look like picking out a dress to me!” Yunjun exclaims, causing all three of you giggle.

Nights like these reminded you why you go to work everyday. No matter how relentless it may be, at least you could guarantee you always had a fairytale to come home to.

Han Jisung

Your husband had proclaimed today as take your daughter to work day. This was in no way, shape or form a real thing. If JYP found out Jisung had snuck his four year into the company studio he might be found dead. But you? Oh you wouldn’t miss this for the world. You and Changbin had already laid a bet down for what you think would be broke in that studio before the end of the day. He argues it’ll be the mics, you argued it’d be the soundboard. As you neared the building you sent Jisung a text, letting him know you were close, as you made it to the front desk and through security, verifying you were here for your husband and no other sneaky business. You made it upstairs and into the studio hallways, your feet already knowing the way to your husbands by heart. Was it really your husbands? No. But Chans room was everybody’s room. That is until something ends up broken today. Then it’s definitely just his room. Your hand finally greets the handle and you push the door open, completely forgetting to knock once your heard Jisungs voice.

“Yeah and if you push that red button righhtttt- yep! Right there, it’ll start recording. See that blinking light up on the monitor? It’s recording everything we’re saying right now.” He instructed. His daughter held tightly against him as he leans her over the soundboard. She claps her hands together in enthusiasm. “I did it!” She giggles before he places her down onto the chair behind him and that’s when he notices you in the doorway. “Well hello gorgeous. Come round here often?” He remarks before pressing his fingers to the soundboard again and turning off the recording. “Only for super cool all rounder Han Jisung of hit boy band Stray Kids. See him anywhere?” You tease before closing the door heading towards him, he pulls you in close and you hug him tightly, your head finding comfort in his shoulder. “Lucky for you you’re lowkey married to him. No big deal or anything.” You giggle at his antics before snuggling deeper into his shoulder, your nose pressed against his neck. “How’s the piece going?”

“It’s going. Our daughters got some fire rhymes. I taught her to say swag on the mic.”

You rolled your eyes as you grinned and pulled back, placing a kiss to his forehead before peering over at the chair beside you. Your daughter was not sat there anymore. You knew it was strangely quiet. “Speaking of said daughter.” You said, resting your hand on his cheek as you redirected his gaze to the chair. “She was just there!” He stated exasperatedly. His expression was then met with a loud thud in the sound booth. You both peered over, your daughter hanging onto the mic stand which had now just unbolted from the wall. “Swag!” She giggled before puckering her lips and throwing you both a peace sign.

Needless to say that was the last take your daughter to work day that ever took place in Chans room. You were now 30 dollars shorter. Changbin? 30 dollars richer. But all that mattered to you was that your daughter never lost her quirkiness, and with her father wrapped around her finger, you know there’s no doubt she’ll ever be able to.

Felix Lee

Waking up in the middle of the night was never fun, especially with the lack of sleep you already got due to your work schedule. What didn’t help was the way your 5 year old daughter was also trying to get used to a new schedule. That schedule being kindergarten. So either way, having no sleep was becoming something you were trying to get accustomed to.

You squint your eyes open and glance at the alarm clock across the room on your shared dresser. 2:34 AM. You groan, and roll over, hoping that snuggling into your husband might make this sleeping task less daunting, but as your reach out to feel for his waist you’re met with nothing but cold sheets. Worry instantly dawns on you, sitting straight up in bed you bring your clammy hands to your eyes and begin to rub them awake.

“Felix?” You announce loudly into the dark space of the master bedroom you both share, expecting him to be in the in suite bathroom. You’re met with radio silence. Your feet find comfort in Felix’s slippers, which happened to be so conveniently placed at the end of the bed. You trudge your way down the hallway, already knowing where your feet will take you.

Leaning against the door, hand grasping the doorknob, you gently push your daughters bedroom door open and it’s then that you’re met with a sight that melts your heart.

There he is. Felix, in his 5’7 glory, situated on a toddler bed half his size. Your gaze shifts to the right and you find your daughter pressed snuggly into his chest, his right arm wrapped around her, keeping her safe even whilst they were both unconscious. As you carefully walk closer to them you notice a worn book in your husbands left hand, which was already dangling off the pretty purple and gold princess bed. Le Petit Prince.

You carefully place said book on the floor, removing it from his grasp as you place his arm back onto the bed, by his side. Felix will always be your daughters favorite comfort, and just because it’s your two favorite people in the world, you reckon sleeping alone tonight won’t be so bad, if it means she can wake up well rested with her knight in shinning arm by her side.

Kim Seungmin

You woke up to the sound of a slam, and instead of getting up to investigate it, you rolled over in your shared king bed, undoing your husbands hands around your waist in the process. “Min.” You whispered, leaning in and kissing his nose. No response. You could tell by the way his ears tinted pink he was definitely awake, so you kissed his nose again until you heard a throaty mhm? His eyelashes fluttered open slowly, puppy eyes locking with yours. He was unamused by you demanding him to be awake with you in misery, as he knew what you were about to ask. “Mini Min is in the kitchen, i’m almost certain.” You stated, dramatically throwing your right arm over your eyes. “Someone should definitely put her back to bed…” He blinked at you, but after a long ten seconds passed in silence, he knew arguing was fruitless. He sighed and rolled his eyes as he pulled himself off the bed. “You owe me.” He called out as he shrugged on the silk blue robe situated on the vanity near your bedroom door. If there was one thing Seungmin mastered over the past 7 years with your daughter, it was definitely Dad Fashion.

He shuffled into the kitchen and his eyes could already faintly make out the silhouette of his daughter in the dark, before an open overhead cabinet. “If you fall off that counter I am not going to catch you.” he grumbled, leaning against the archway in the kitchen and flicking on the light switch to reveal her hand in the candy cabinet. Little Mins head snapped to look at who caught her red handed. Whilst turning her head around so quickly, she started to stumble. Despite telling himself to stand still to prove his point, he sped over to the marble counter and put a hand behind her back to prevent her from falling backwards. “Thought you wouldn't catch me?” her voice chimed childishly with her hushed dove-like voice.

She sounded like the perfect mix of you and him. You’d tell him all the time that he better watch out because she’d make a perfect singer. You’d both have to agree that she resembled him to an uncanny degree physically, with her honey brown eyes and shoulder length soft black hair. It was hard to stay mad at her for long though, since her behavior was always so reminiscent of you both. "You better have a good reason for being out of bed." Seungmin said, rubbing his eyes as he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her off the counter, opting to rest her on his hip instead. She clang to his robe immediately as he quickly closed the cabinet he found her rustling in. "What were you doing?"

Minnie looked away from him shyly before muttering "Nothing… just wanted some of Uncle Lixies brownies." Seungmin laughed as he casually started heading back down the hallway towards his shared bedroom with you, turning off the kitchen light in the process. “We ate the rest of those last week puppy.” He chimed, stopping in front of the bedroom door, fingers digging into her sides as he tickled her “You’re gonna have to sleep with Mama and Daddy tonight, so we can keep your crimes at bay.” The air filled with her breathy laughter, her head leaning backwards as she smiled in joy. “Whatever you say, Daddy.”

Yang Jeongin

You sighed for the millionth time in the last hour. This car ride was pure and utter torture. “Hey! How about we play an awesome new game called stop kicking Dads seat, mhm?” Jeongin quipped, shooting a narrowed glare to your son in the backseat and flashing his effervescent smile to him. The 5 year old swiftly ignored him and continued his temper tantrum. You and your husband were bound to have migraines at this point. However, you had to give your son the benefit of the doubt, you were driving him to his first day of kindergarten, his first day all by himself.

In protest, you placed a finger on the volume dial on the SUVs dashboard, turning up the music loud enough to crack glass. Jeongin glanced at you before redirecting his eyes back to road, faking a wince as he giggled in fits as you began to sing (if you could even call it that) Can’t Stop. After a long ride filled with endless Jeongin song covers on the car speakers, your husband turned into the parent drop off line, hopping out of the car and opening his sons door. His protests died down once he got to listen to his fathers singing. It’s always worked wonders on him, ever since he was a newborn.

Jeongin quickly unbuckled him from his car seat before lifting him and placing him on the floor. You followed in suit by meeting him on the other side of the car and placing his bookbag on his shoulder. You crouched down to his height, hand reaching for his cheek. “Hey, baby. You’re gonna do great. Your teachers will contact me or Daddy if you need anything at all. We love you, and we’re super proud of you being such a big boy today!” You stated, locking eyes with his the whole time before leaning forward to leave a kiss on his bang-covered forehead. Jeongin watched you both interact with hearts in his eyes before he mirrored you and crouched parallel to you, taking his sons little hand in his big one. “Mamas right. Despite your tantrum on the way here, we will always love you. You didn’t hear it from me but I think piano class may be your first subject today….” He trailed, winking at your son. He smiled back at his Dad and you, his expression mirroring his fathers perfectly. “No way! I have to get to the piano room first!” He exclaimed, kissing your husband on his cheek and then kissing you as well before sprinting to the doors of the school, his teacher meeting him at the double doors. With one glance back to you both, with a big toothy grin, he walked into the building, likely bolting to get to the best piano in the music classroom. His teacher waved at you both from afar before following him in. You sighed once more, right arm wrapping around your husbands waist as you leaned up against him.

“He’s all grown up, Jeongin.” You all but whispered, glancing upward to steal a peek at your husband, but his eyes were already scanning your face. He leaned forward and kissed you sweetly for a second before pulling away. “He’s gonna be such nerd because of your scholar brain.” He teased before undoing your arm and heading to his drivers side door, and hopping back into the car. What a loser, you thought, as you rolled your eyes and hopped into the passenger seat. You can bet the car ride home consisted of Stray Kids songs being sung as duets between you two, and endless teasing was surely endured as well.

[starry-eyesanddaydreams]

December 24: Christmas Party

Colonel Brandon x Reader

Last entry for @deepperplexity 's Rickmas2023!!! The second part of "Snow Prints". Not my best but I wanted to get this finished before new years, lol. I hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas and that the New Year brings you wonderful things.

It was the night of the Christmas party Christopher was hosting. You watched Delaford house from the carriage window. The beautiful house was brightly lit and the warm glow from the windows cast across the surrounding snow, making it look like a chandelier in the night. You were wearing the finest dress you owned, wine red with gold embroidery. You had a very special reason to be excited for tonight and to want to look your best. A few days ago, Colonel Christopher Brandon had come to your house and asked permission to court you. Your aunt and uncle had happily granted their consent and you’d felt like you were walking on clouds ever since. Christopher met you as the carriage with you and your aunt and uncle arrived at door. By the look on his face when he helped you down from the carriage, the lengths you had gone to in your appearance were appreciated and you felt your cheeks heat in a blush under his gaze.

It was a wonderful party. The house was beautifully decorated with garlands and candles, music and chatter filled the air and everyone was in a jovial, festive mood, fuelled by fine food and Christmas punch. As the night went on, he spent as much time as he could by your side. As much as his duties as host would allow him. Young Margaret Dashwood had secured a dance with Christopher at one point and the sight of him dancing happily with the child endeared him to you even more. Since your first meeting where he had rescued you from your long walk through the snow, you had seen each other many times and written often. You knew you were easily and quickly falling in love with him. And while exchanged letters and time spent in the company of your family warmed your heart, you also longed to be close to him again. The feeling of being held close to him as you’d ridden double across the fields that day had stayed with you and you needed to feel that closeness again.

You had danced together several times tonight, happily becoming lost in the music. After a while, when you said you could use a rest from dancing and the crowded room, Christopher offered to show you some more of the house. You walked together and ended up in a picture gallery, lined with beautiful paintings. “Are you enjoying the party?” He asked. “Very much. It’s a wonderful evening. I’ve enjoyed dancing with you.” “I’m glad. You dance beautifully. But I’m afraid most of the popular dances are a bit fast for my meagre skill.” “I think you’re a very fine dancer. You have travelled a great deal, do you know of other dances.” “Well, these is one I like, called the waltz, but I fear it may cause a scandal when it reaches England.” You were intrigued now, “What would make this waltz so scandalous? Please, tell me.” Christopher took your right hand in his, the warmth of it soaking through your glove as his large hand wrapped around yours. “It’s danced between two people, and you must hold each other quite close.” “Show me.” You almost whispered. Christopher took a breath before answering, “You place your left hand on my shoulder”. You did as he said and almost gasped as his right hand settled on your waist and pulled you closer.

Your face was mere inches from his. Your softness under his hands was entrancing and Christopher wanted nothing more in that moment than to abandon all propriety, to wrap you up in his arms and kiss you. You felt yourself leaning closer towards him, drawn to him as if by an invisible spring. Softly, sweetly, your lips met his arms wrapped firmly around your waist as you clung to his shoulders. It was an intoxicating mix, the feeling of warmth and safety you felt in his embrace mixed with the dizzying thrill of his kiss.

A burst of chatter from the nearby doorway startled you both away from each other. Christopher’s expression was hard to read, “I’m…”he stumbled over his words, “I’m so sorry. Please…forgive my transgression.” “There’s nothing to forgive.” You said softly, “I was hoping you would kiss me. I’ve wanted to be held by you again since the day we met. Is that to forward of me?” Suddenly feeling vulnerable at your confession. Christopher took both your hands in his, “No. You are wonderous.” He wanted to kiss you again, but he couldn’t risk your reputation. Thinking clearly now, anyone could have walked passed and seen your passionate embrace. “We should so back before we’re missed.” He said. You nodded, still a bit breathless. And he linked his arm with yours and you headed back to the party, where you found some of the guests had started a game of Snapdragon. As you and Christoper watched the game, amused at the players antics, you thought to yourself how you didn’t need any game of Snapdragon to tell you that you would marry your true love soon. _____________________________________________________

Hope everyone who reads this enjoys it. (Snapdragon was an old party game where you'd light a bowl of brandy-soaked raisins on fire and try to grab them out of the bowl. The one who gets the most was said to marry their true love within a year) Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!!!!!

[keravnous]

oh y'know, just spending the summer with cristoph.

feat.: Lana del Rey, Charles Aznavour, The Weeknd, Prince, Fleetwood Mac, MARINA, Rihanna, Zella Day, Harry Styles, Melanie Martinez, Etta James ...

listen here

[stellarsturns]

Twisted Hate

part 2

pairing: dom!chris x reader, enemies to lovers.

summary; you and you’re enemy chris, are forced to go on a vacation. Yet, you both don’t hate each other as much as you think.

warnings: Swearing and angst.

authors note: Hi y’all ! i kinda hate this!! But whateverrrr

** Beep Beep **

I look at my phone which is ringing, I see the name. In bold print it says “Alex.” Which is my ex boyfriend.

I pick up the call, Chris starring at me. “Hello?” I state into the phone.

Alex : Hi, we haven’t spoken in awhile. How are you.

“I’m good! How are you?” I state. Chris starring at me as I make this phone call.

Alex: Im great, we definitely have to see each other again.

“You are so right Alex!! We gotta meet up again.” I state, a smile growing on my face. Out of all my exes, Alex is my favorite. He’s really nice.

Chris’s Pov:

I glanced at her, was she seriously talking to her ex? Like Alex? I thought she hated him..

I began to stare at her watching the conversation play out. Once the call ended I immediately felt my anger growing.

Y/N’s Pov:

After a few minutes I ended the call with Alex. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Chris starring at me, once I notice him he looks away.

After a few moments in silence the brunette boy speaks up. “What the fuck was that.” He states angrily.

I look at him confused, “Chris what the fuck do you mean?” He glares at me, “I thought you hated Alex. You always talk so much shit about him.” He states.

“Oh, uh-“ I begin to speak but I am immediately cut off by him. “This isn’t a joke, you are such a two-faced bitch. No wonder why he broke up with you.”

I glare at Chris, growing angry by the second. “What the fuck did you just call me?” I state. He looks at me, “Called you a bitch.” Before I know it my actions take over and I slap Chris across the face.

“Don’t fucking put your hands on me again.” He states, aggression filling his voice. I looked at him, “You deserved it, now i’m grabbing dinner with Nick, stay here by yourself.” I state, walking away.

** TIME SKIP **

I come back into the room to see all my clothes I had put away thrown everywhere in the room, and no Chris.

I looked down at the mess on the floor, everything including my bras and undies were sprawled around on the floor.

He thinks he’s so funny for doing this, I told

myself. I sigh before I begin to clean up. Organizing and folding everything on the floor neatly.

By the time I am finished the food I hate brought back was now cold. I approach the microwave, placing the food in there and letting it cook so it’s not cold anymore.

Immediately once the microwave dings, Chris waltz through the door, this time stumbling around.

I look at him, “Are you okay.” I ask, not like I care. He smiles and giggles, “I am like soooooo fine.” He slurs, giggling at every little thing.

I roll my eyes, and sit down to finish the small slab of food I have from dinner. Chris took a shower whilst I ate. At least he was productive i say to myself.

Once I am changed and ready for bed, I turn the lights off hoping into the bed. Chris then hops into the bed getting under the covers. He quietly says, “Goodnight Y/N.” I blush a little bit, “Goodnight Christopher.”

I turn on my side, attempting to get comfortable before two familiar hands wrap around my waist.

@hysteria-things big thank you to Haleigh for helping with my writing block💋💋

[mlmxreader]

Like the Cowboys | Dr. King Schultz x m!reader

Anonymous asked: Can you write something whit a m!reader and Dr. King Schultz whit the prompt " "It fucking hurts, okay?" Were they get In a fight because King refuses to be more careful while working and the m!reader is angry at him for being so careless?

Also maybe an accidental love confession? 👀

Thank u -🪴

summary: it’s hard enough to worry about your friend being a bounty hunter, but when you fall in love with his partner, that worry gets to be too much. 

tws: swearing, mentions of violence

word count: 1237

From what Django was telling you, King was going back to his old ways, being more and more reckless, and although you didn’t think anything of it at first - as he had Django with him, and if there was anyone you trusted the most with anything and everything, with anyone and everyone, it was him - you started to realise that King was indeed putting his fucking neck in the noose; he was being an idiot, if you were honest, and he was refusing to take your advice when you told him to start being a little bit more careful, to start thinking twice about what he was doing and when he was doing it. Outside of Django, King was the only person you deeply cared about; although the love that you held for the two of them was very different, Django was your best friend, King was… something else that a man like you wasn’t allowed to admit to in certain territories. You didn’t want either of them to be hurt, but King worried you; his recklessness and his boldness would get the better of him one day, and that was something you dreaded to think. That was something that left a hollow feeling in your chest when you thought about it. It made you swallow thickly when you met up with them, it made your hands tremble when you found your trail was the same as theirs. 

So, naturally, you decided that you would confront King about it, but you had to wait for the right time, as you didn’t want Django to hear or see what was going on; you waited until you were at a local saloon, and while Django was distracted by making friends with a trapper, you pulled King outside and sighed heavily, running your hand down your face, glaring at him. 

“Are you a fucking idiot?”

King raised a brow. “Not as far as I know, why?”

“What the fuck do you mean why?” You hissed. “You’ve been so goddamn reckless and stupid lately, I’m actually fucking surprised you haven’t had your brains blown out!” 

He scoffed, folding his arms across his chest as he leaned against the wall and shook his head. “Mister (y/l/n), you’re a wildlife painter, I don’t think-”

“I think you ought to shut your fucking mouth,” you growled. “Do you wanna die?”

“No,” he said calmly. 

“Then why the fuck are you being such a fool?” The way you glared at him, the way you were speaking, King would have to have been ignoring you to miss the pain, the agony, in your eyes and voice. 

He hung his head, licking his lips as he sighed. “Why do you care so much?”

“Because it fucking hurts, okay?” You snarled, breathing heavily. “It fucking hurts to think that you could have your fucking brains all over a curtain! And I’d…” 

“You’d what?” King questioned, looking up at you as he raised his brows, expecting an answer. “You’d move on again? You’d simply continue going around the country painting animals for little cigarette cards?” 

“No,” you said flatly. 

“Because you’re not there,” he continued, “you aren’t there when Django and I are getting shot at. You don’t work in the same field that we do.” 

“So that means I don’t get to say that I’m worried?” You spat. 

“Not particularly, no.” 

“Real nice,” you huffed, shaking your head. “Real, real fucking nice.” 

“Well, what do you want me to say?” He shrugged. “That I worry about you when I have no right to? That I know the kind of bastards that are out there, who would just love to steal an innocent man’s horse and rob him blind before killing him and stealing his paintings, too?” 

“It’s a bit fucking different when that shit could happen by pure chance,” you started, “but when it fucking comes to you, you’re out there every goddamn day! And you’re not even using a rifle, which would be a lot fucking safer than using that sleeve gun you got!” 

“But at least if it happens to me it wouldn’t be for no reason,” he growled. “If it happened to you, there would be no reason behind it. No morality, or any sort of justification. If it happened to you, there’d… it would be easier that it happened to me, not to you.” 

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean, King?” You huffed. “That, that you’d rather you died if it meant that there was one less fucker likely to rob me?”

“More or less, yes,” he stated with a curt nod. “I care about you, (y/n), I don’t… the thought of something happening to you pains me just as much as the thought of something happening to me pains you.” 

“I highly doubt that,” you told him. “I highly fucking doubt that.” 

“Oh, really?” He took a step forward, and the next thing you knew, he had you pinned against the wall he had been leaning up against. “Do you doubt that if you died, I would blame myself? Because I wasn’t around to make sure nothing happened to you.” 

“And, what, you doubt that I don’t fucking worry every day?” You asked. “You doubt that I wished, so fucking badly, that we could just settle some place out west and mind our own goddamn businesses? You, me, Django, Hildi? You doubt I want that? For all of us to be safe?”

“You’re a fool,” King sighed heavily. “You are an absolute fool… I worry, because I want that for us - I want me and you to find a place out west and to settle down. We could be… we could be like the cowboys.” 

“Then why did you say that I have no right to worry over you?” You questioned, shaking your head. “You can’t… you can’t have it both ways, King.” 

“So I can love you and be in love with you, but not worry about you?” He scoffed. “You tell me off for being reckless, but you could get robbed, mauled, shot, trampled, bitten, you could be-” 

“Did you just tell me you love me in the middle of a fucking argument?” You asked, all anger leaving you as you dared to laugh a little. “Seriously?”

“Not on purpose but, ja, I did… but-” 

“You fucking idiot,” you breathed out, cupping his cheeks and giving him a quick kiss. “Why the fuck do you think I’m so worried? Huh?”

King smiled when he noticed your little spark of joy, a faint blush coming to his features as he sighed. “Because you love me?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “You idiot.” 

“Mein maler,” he whispered, licking his lips as he swallowed thickly. “Maybe we can compromise? Me and Django travel the country, I don’t doubt that we’ll inevitably see some wildlife that you can paint. And you may even find some… what are they called? The big mean looking ones with red, orange, black and yellow.” 

“Bull snakes?” You asked, and when he nodded, you shrugged. “Maybe… in certain areas.” 

“Will you think about it?” He pleaded. “And if I’m still reckless and careless, you can tell me off.” 

You couldn’t help but to laugh as you nodded, letting out a sigh. “Sure, I’ll… I’ll think about it, I’ll let you know by morning.” 

“Bitte,” gently, he took your hand as he cleared his throat. “Like the cowboys?”

if you liked this fic, REBLOG IT - you SHOULD reblog it; if you don't wanna reblog, then you'll get blocked; reblogging is the BARE MINIMUM. don't just "like", REBLOG

[whatstruthgottodowithit]

Why You Gotta Be Like That?

Fandom: RPF, American Actor, 

Pairing: Chris Evans x Female Reader

Characters: Chris Evans, Female Reader, Dodger Evans

Word Count: 1146

Rating: Teen & Up

Summary:  When we walk in and it's past ten, I'ma tell 'em it's your fault

Tags/ Warnings: My Writing, Halloween Challenge, Writing Challenge, Songfics, Kissing, Flirting, Established Relationship, Anxiety, Love, Fluff, Parties, Mild Arguing, Dodger is V Upset About Being Left Alone, Songfic, Lyric Insert Chronically Late, if youre someone whos always late just know me and u arent friends, Why You Gotta Be Like That? // Scotty McCreery

Notes:  This is part of my writing Challenge for Halloween 2022. All fics are based off of songs I love. The aim is to write one fic a day for 15 days straight. I’m doing a similar thing for Christmas but they will all be headcanons [requests welcome for that] Enjoy x  

15 DAYS OF SONGFICS FOR HALLOWEEN (OCT 15TH - OCT 31ST)

7:53.

Chris sighed as he looked at his watch. They were supposed to be at this party at eight and he was currently sitting on his couch drink in hand waiting for Y/N to waltz down the stairs. Chris hated being late. His anxiety never let him be late for anything. He always knew the best route to get to where he was going, he even scoped out parking beforehand most of the time. He’d give himself ample time to get ready and would be waiting to leave at the time he’d planned.

Then he met Y/N. It wasn’t that she was out to annoy him, she wasn’t even planning to be late. It was just that she seemed to misjudge. If they had an appointment she’d ‘just need a shower’ before they left. If they were going on vacation they’d ‘just have to swing by her mom’s for her passport’. Every table reservation he made he always told her it was a half hour before to get a shot at being on time.  He loved her to death but she didn’t half stress him out whenever they needed to be somewhere.

He took a sip of his whiskey and checked his watch again. It hadn’t moved, but Chris couldn’t sit there any longer. He got up and grabbed his keys off the sideboard and started pacing at the bottom of the stairs. Dodger looked up from his bed as he moved but seeing Chris holding the car keys he put his head back down moping at being left out from wherever they were going. Then she appeared at the top of the stairs before she walked down them at an agonisingly casual pace whilst Chris watched her. As she hit the bottom step he looked at her, his eyebrows raised expectantly.

‘What?’ she said with a wry smile. ‘You realise we’ve gotta be across town in 6 minutes,’ he said checking his watch again. She looked at him with a smile and placed a hand on his chest before saying, ‘Christopher, Christopher, Christopher, it’s called being fashionably late.’

As she walked away from him towards the sideboard so she could look in the mirror Chris took her in. If he wanted to argue with her or complain he couldn’t. The wind was knocked out of him. Her outfit wasn’t outlandish, after all, they were only going to a friend’s house for drinks. It was a simple pair of jeans and a white tank top but it was enough to get Chris’ motor running. She wasn’t paying attention to him. She was putting her lipstick on in the mirror as Chris watched her. Her hair fell down her back as she angled her ass towards him which was clad in tight jeans that hugged her frame. And up top, she had a simple tank top which as she bent over Chris could see her cleavage heaving in the mirror’s reflection. 

She caught him watching her and smiled.

‘What?’ she giggled turning around as he came behind her, his hands caressing her waist as he spun her around. Chris sighed with a smile as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

‘You’re so predictable you know that?’ he giggled. ‘I’m the predictable one huh?’ she said as she traced her finger down his jaw and to his chest where her hand stopped and rested against him. She could feel his heart thumping away underneath it. ‘Definitely,’ he said leaning down to kiss her but she pulled away smirking. ‘And how am I so predictable Mr Evans?’ ‘Dressing like that because you know-’ ‘I know that you’re gonna be down here pacing like a tiger,’ she smirked. ‘Because I hate being late,’ he said. ‘I know, I know,’ she said, ‘but you know I’m never on time I don’t know why it surprises you.’ ‘Oh it doesn’t,’ he said, ‘like you wearing that little number doesn’t surprise me. Trying to get on my good side. See, predictable.’ ‘If I’m predictable,’ she whispered leaning in close, ‘then how come I knew that this would get you all hot and bothered huh?’

Chris went to say something but he stopped at a loss for words. She was right. His heart was racing and his trousers felt incredibly tight and all she had to do was flaunt in front of him for a couple of minutes.

‘See…predictable,’ she said sultrily, leaning in dangerously close to him that he could smell her perfume. Chris ran his tongue along his teeth and then in a flash, he bent down, grabbed her by the legs and threw her over his shoulder. She giggled as he did it beating weakly on his back.

‘Chris!’ she giggled, ‘what are you doing.’ ‘I’m showing you how predictable I am,’ he said heading for the stairs she had come down not five minutes ago. ‘And the party?’ she asked giving up fighting and resting against him instead. ‘Oh by the time I’m done with you it’ll be 10 o'clock,’ he said smugly. They were in the bedroom now and he had thrown her down on her bed, coming to hover over her. Her hair was splayed around her and she was resting on her elbows, her chest heaving from laughing at him.

‘And what do you suppose we tell them?’ she giggled as he leant down and kissed her neck. ‘We could tell them the truth,’ he said, each word punctuated by a kiss. ‘Or?’ ‘Or something more believable,’ he said simply, ‘you made us late.’ ‘Oh really?’ she giggled though it was finished by a moan as he sucked gently on a delicate spot by her collarbone. ‘Like they wouldn’t believe that,’ he chuckled. ‘Guess it’s a good job we’re both so predictable then,’ she giggled.

I set down my whiskey and you kiss me, You lean your back against the wall, When we walk in and it’s past ten, I'ma tell 'em it’s your fault.

[lostinanatom]

Alright alright, I know The Consultant JUST came out, but…cmon y’all. I need my Christoph Waltz fanfic writers to start makin some juicy Regus Patoff x reader content!! MAMAS THIRSTY PLZ 😫

[rumple04]

Alchemy & Late Shows

OS Reader x Christoph Waltz

(Only fluff, no smut)

Inspired by “Emotional Interview” by @headoverhiddles

You are late to the studios of Jimmy Kimmel's Late Show. The traffic jams on the streets of New York got the better of your organization. You hate arriving late, especially when you are not responsible for it. Hair in the wind you hurry to join your dressing room so that the make-up artists try to hide your drawn features due to fatigue. Tonight, like every past and upcoming nights this week, you have to promote a film in which you shot. Yesterday you were alone against David Letterman, tonight at Jimmy Kimmel's and tomorrow at Jimmy Fallon's. Fortunately, tonight and tomorrow you are not alone since you are accompanied by your co-star Christoph Waltz. It is also the moment you come out of your dressing room perfectly prepared with a bun that you see it waiting in the backstage, tapping from the heel.

- Hi Christoph, you say as you approached to kiss him.

- Hi y/n, how are you?

- I was stuck in traffic jams at the height of Grande Avenue, I thought I would never arrive on time ! And you?

- I would rather be everywhere else than here, in fact. But I'm glad to see you.

You blush at these last words. You've been blushing for months at every sweet attention of your co-star. And, in fact - you've been trying for months to hide what you feel deep inside.

- Everywhere else, are you sure? Even in the burger restaurant where Joe (Whrite, the director of the film you just shot) brought us to last week?

- ... don't say that. But really, Kimmel's interviews...

- I know... Get ready, tomorrow is Fallon’s one.

- Dear me...

You know how much, Christoph hates these big Late Show, you don't like them so much either. Like him, promoting your work is not what you like to do the most, but you can't help but have a certain enthusiasm for sharing these shows with him. A man approaches to hang the microphones on your clothes. Christoph is always perfectly dressed. You think that you haven't seen him a single day badly dressed since you worked with him. Perfectly ironed shirt, perfectly cut pants, well-cut suit shirt. You're not bad either with your fitted blouse and your long high-waisted skirt. Without consulting you before, your outfits are in the same shade of color. Another man signals us not to speak anymore because our microphones are activated, and in the same movement we are invited to move forward. You hear Kimmel announce:

- And now, I know that you expect them as much as I do. They are featured in the new drama period by Joe Whrite: Pride and Prejudice. A thunder of cheers for y/n and Christoph Waltz!

You walk on the stage, a polite smile for Christoph, a shy smile for you. Christoph signals you to sit down first, to which you answer a complicit smile towards the audience with a hand wave to mimic a fan.

- Ah Christoph, always so polite! I must tell you that I’m really happy to receive you tonight, says Kimmel when the public stopped the applause.

- And we are delighted to be there, you hasten to reply.

-Yes, we will say that, adds Christoph, winning the laughter of the public.

- But I hope you are happy to be there! This is not the first time you have come Christoph since I had the pleasure of welcoming you a few months ago for the release of Django Unchained, and you there some time ago for the release of Sense and Sensibility.

- Indeed, you answer.

- I saw your film, of course, and what a pleasure to see you both shoot together! What an alchemy! Did you like to play together?

- No, really not. I can't stand the presence of y/n. Ironizes Christoph, still winning the laughter of the public.

- Really? Ask for dazed Kimmel.

- Stupid question, stupid answer, adds Christoph, crossing his legs.

You smile at him timidly and look at yourself a few seconds before you decide to add:

- No, you’re right. We really enjoyed working on this project.

- And it shows, precisely we have a small excerpt to show you! Answer Kimmel by turning to the camera.

The screen above us then shows the first images that your production communicated for the promotion.

"You appear reading letters in an Old England-style living room. You hear ringing and get up. A maid opens the door and reveals Christoph who seems confused, stressed and eager.

- Forgive me. I hope you are better, he says, walking mechanically towards the fireplace with the missing air.

- I'm better, thank you. Aren't you going to sit down? Answer by sitting near the living room table.

He doesn't answer you and an embarrassing silence takes place. He remains standing as stressed as ever. He looks in turn at the emptiness and your eyes, then he takes the hundred steps. His discomfort is really palpable and you look at him not knowing what to say. He wants to say something but seems sick at the idea of opening his mouth. He sits down not letting go of your eyes. Then gets up. Finally, after a fierce internal struggle, he declares:

- In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.

You remain speechless for several seconds in silence. He adds:

- By declaring myself in this way, I am fully aware of speaking against the judgment of my family, my friends, and I must say it - of my own judgment. The respective situations of our families are such that an alliance between you and me could only be perceived as highly reprehensible by society. My reason dictates me to consider it as such but I don't bring myself to it. No sooner had I met you than I felt an admiration and a passionate inclination for you that, despite my efforts - defeated any rational objection. I therefore beg you fervently to put an end to my suffering by agreeing to become my wife.

Eyes full of tears, you don't answer right away. Christoph is standing in front of you, in faith relieved to have delivered his burdens but at the same time anxious to see you not answer him right away. You finally answer:

- In such circumstances, I think it is customary to express gratitude, to feel gratitude. But I can't.

Christoph's shoulders sag slightly. He is hanging from your lips and it seems that this last sentence surprises and hurts him deeply. You add:

- I have never desired your affection and it is even reluctantly that you give it to me. I regret having caused you trouble but I did it unintentionally and I hope it will be short-lived, you add.

A heavy silence takes place in the room. He turns his back on you and joins the chimney on which he leans for a few seconds. Then straightens up. He is upset by your answer and turns to you.

- So this is the whole answer I would have the honor to receive. Can I at least know why I am repulsed with so little politeness?

- And can I know why with the obvious intention of offending me, insulting me you come to tell me that you love me against your will, against the concern of your reputation? ».

The screen turns off and you are covered with applauds from the public and Kimmel.

- Wow! It's breathtaking. What is the effect of dismiss Christoph?

You laugh and seem embarrassed. Christoph smiles gently and says nothing.

- This is only possible because it is written on the script, in fact ! You say by not daring to turn to your co-star.

- And you Christoph, how does it feel to be put back in place by y/n?

- My heart was just as broken as Mr. Darcy's, he replied to the heated applause of the public.

You laugh to hide the embarrassment you feel. You know that Christoph is joking, he always does it, but deep down you would like him to be simply delivering the bottom of his thought. Kimmel then adds to close the show:

- I am really delighted to discover you together in this new adaptation of Pride and Prejudice and I hope it marks the first collaboration in a long series. Ladies and gentlemen, y/n and Christoph Waltz!

You leave the stage and Christoph hastens to get rid of his microphone. You go side by side to your respective dressing rooms and he declares:

- Frankly, what did this interview bring? No relevant questions.

- It's true... you know that's what the public is always looking for. Showmen simply respond to the demand.

- You're right...

It stops at the height of your dressing room and you look at yourself for a few seconds. He adds:

- I would have invited you to eat somewhere but tomorrow is as busy for you as it is for me.

- Yes, unfortunately I think it would be wiser for us to go to bed early enough tonight. But we can see it at the end of the week, it would be a pleasure.

He doesn't answer, just smiles at you. He takes your hand and puts a kiss on it.

- See you tomorrow y/n.

———

Indeed, the day that awaits you is not easy. Each on your side has several trays to turn for the promo. It is only in the evening that you finally find yourself in Jimmy Fallon's studios. This is the last interview you have to give on your program. Unlike the day before you arrive early on site and while you are heading to your dressing room, some members of the technical team stop you to ask you for autographs and selfies.

- I'm really a fan of what you do. I love Jane Austen's adaptations and I find that your work really pays tribute to her, throws you a woman of engineer.

- Thank you very much, it's really nice!

- Can I ask you something?

- Yes, of course.

- Is... Christoph Waltz as grumpy as he lets it seem?

You can't help but let out a laugh. It's true that Christoph gives this impression. Moreover, he gives a lot of his person to always seem grumpy and sarcastic. However, this is not the attitude you know him on the set and behind the scenes. You don't want to undermine all the hard work of your co-star and you answer:

- He is adorable, but yes he is often grumpy!

The whole team laughs and with these words you enter your dressing room. It is only several minutes later, and after an intense makeup session that someone knocks on your door.

- Come in!

- So like that I'm grumpy? Announce Christoph by theatrically entering your dressing room.

- Wow, definitely the information circulates well here!

- Am I grumpy?

- I also said you were adorable!

- I hope so!

He smiles maliciously and comes to put a kiss on your forehead.

- We have to go, the team is waiting for us to put on the microphones, he says kindly.

You finish hanging your earring, you get up and you follow him. The team puts the microphones on you and just before he turns them on you touch Christoph's arm by whispering to him:

- Come on, it's the last one!

He smiles at you gently by placing his hand on yours. You don't have time to feel your heart beating the chamade you hear Jimmy Fallon announce to you.

- You loved him in Inglorious Basterds, and you loved her in Sense and Sensibility! They form an iconic couple in Joe Whrite's new adaptation of Pride and Prejudice! Ladies and gentlemen, I have the pleasure to welcome y/n and Christoph Waltz!

As the day before you enter the stage under a thunder of applaud and as the day before Christoph shows gallantry by letting you sit first. You find your colleague more relaxed than the day before.

- Wow! You are both beautiful, begins Fallon with a glittering smile. I'm really delighted to see you here!

- Same! You answer with a polite smile.

- You are definitely subscribed to the roles of the drama periods, aren't you?

- Maybe well, indeed. I'm not going to complain about it, it's an area that I really like both in audiovisual and literature.

- You Christoph, it's the first time we have seen you in this register. How does it feel to have played the legendary Mr. Darcy?

- It's...somewhat unexpected. I did not expect to one day be led to play such a "British" role as this one.

- And yet! You are brilliant in this role. Would you be interested in continuing to shoot films in this same register?

- I didn't know how to oppose it. What interests me is the story that a director has to tell. As long as I like the script and is good, I'm always in.

- The alchemy between the two of you is powerful. Did it feel on the set ?

Christoph lets you answer, his head slightly bent and a shy smile digging the wrinkle of his cheek.

- Uh... I think so. In any case, it's true that I had never felt such complicity on a set, you answer timidly.

The audience whistles at this statement and the musical group on the set plays some sexy notes. Fallon reacts:

- Wouuu! It's hot this way! Have you seen what is being said on social medias about you?

- Dear lords, answers Christoph. I don't have social medias and it's very good for me.

The audience laughs for several seconds after which you add.

- I'm on Twitter, but I was careful not to show him what is said there, you reply laughing behind your hand, timidly.

- It's very good because I have here some incredible tweets that concern you both.

- My god... answer Christoph by collapsing on his chair.

- Come on, I'm starting!

On the screen above them displays a screen of tweets :

"Who would have thought that an adaptation of Pride and Prejudice would be as hot as that of @y/n and Christoph Waltz?! ”

"Thank you @JoeWhrite for bringing us together @y/n and Christoph Waltz on a set! I don't know if I ship more Elizabeth Bennet and Darcy or literally the two actors! ”

"Joe Whrite: You're going to play the mythical couple of Elizabeth Bennet and Fitzwilliam Darcy!

Literally Y/n & Christoph Waltz being the hottest couple of Jane Austen's universe. ”

You couldn't be more red and more delighted than right now. You turn - enthusiastic - to Christoph who against all odds wears a small satisfied smile. Jimmy Fallon notices it and adds on top of the enthusiastic applause of the audience:

- You see, there are not only bad things on social medias!

- I’m certainly satisfied to have done my job correctly, he answers a little timidly.

- You are incorrigible! But you are not as reserved on other TV sets. Replica Fallon bursting with laughter. I have a small excerpt to refresh your memory.

"On the same screen appears an excerpt from Christoph on Ellen DeGeneres' set. The latter declares:

- You have great complicity with y/n, it's quite striking on the screen. Did you feel it on the set?

- Yes, in fact I must admit that I even have a big crush on her...

Christoph smiles slightly and Ellen opens her mouth wide laughing to the applause of an amused audience. ”

- What do you have to declare in your defense, applies Jimmy Fallon?

- Absolutely nothing, answers Christoph with a smile.

- And you there y/n?

- You will never be able to laugh at Christoph, you say, turning to him.

He looks at you with great complicity and puts his hand on yours. Fallon does not pay attention to it and starts the end of the interview.

- You can find these two lovebirds on the bill of Joe Whrite's latest film Pride and Prejudice of which here is a short trailer. Thank you for coming tonight!

Under the applause you get up and go behind the scenes. You do not dare to speak while you reach your dressing rooms. As you approach yours, Christoph approaches you and asks you:

- Do you feel like coming to dinner with me tonight?

- With pleasure, Christoph...

You find him disturbed, and gently you put your hand on his arm:

- Is everything all right?

He looks at your hand on his arm and in the same movement grabs it and kisses you tenderly. You feel all your muscles relax one after the other. You realize that for several months now, your whole body has been tense and was only waiting for that. He barely detaches himself from you and whispers:

-I'm sorry... I've wanted to do this for a while.

- Don't apologize, I've been dreaming about it for months.