#pst go follow him

[cnrohicallydumb]

I was showing my friend a screenshot of levitating yaldy and he made this comparison so I plagiarised him. Thank you winter :3

[bisexualadamparrish]

having the worst fucking 24 hours 🤪

[doe-eyed-fool]

Lucifer X Reader oneshot where the reader snorts when she laughs. Like between bursts of giggles and cackles there’s a short or drawn snort that follows. And since there’s some peeps that hate fun, reader’s gotten comments about her loud ‘obnoxious’ laugh so she tries to keep a lid on her laughter. Maybe Luci notices that she tends to cover and muffle her laughter when he’s telling her a funny story or joke and he pulls out all the stops to get a laugh out of her. Maybe telling her an embarrassing story or tickling her and when he succeeds she’s so flustered but can’t stop and is just laughing and snorting while turning bright red.

Lovely

Lucifer x Reader

Warning(s): Slight Angst, Fluffy Ending

(Pst! I love your pfp btw! I hope you enjoy~)

Dating Lucifer couldn’t have been more easy. Lucifer had to be the kindest, loving, and sweetest demon in all of Hell. Which, considering he is the literal king of Hell, that was saying quite a bit.

You couldn’t have asked for a better partner. Lucifer was very attentive when it came to you. He always wanted to make sure you were happy. And how else to make someone happy, than to tell some funny terrible jokes?

However, you hated your laugh more than anything. And so did others, at least, the people you’ve met in the past did. Your friends now had never heard you laugh, like, truly laugh.

Sure, you’d giggle every now and then. But never really laugh. And for good reason.

But there was no hiding things from Lucifer.

“Hey sweetie?” Lucifer joins you on the couch, you look up from your phone. “Yes?” You hum. “What has webbed feet and fangs?” He asks. You furrow your brows in confusion. “Uh, what?”

“Count Duck-ula!” Lucifer exclaims as he holds up a vampire themed rubber duck. You blinked before a light chuckle leaves you. “Oh? You like that one?” Lucifer raises an eyebrow. “Then…”

“Where do suck ducks go?” Lucifer pauses. “The duck-tor!”

Turn away from Lucifer and making a shooing motion with your hand as your chuckle turned into a fit of giggles.

“Come on, you never let me hear your laugh.” Lucifer inches closer to you. “Don’t tell me I’ll have to force it out of you?” He says teasingly. “N-No!” You squeak. “It’s awful!”

“Awful? I doubt it. There’s nothing awful about you, my love.” Lucifer says, placing his hand on your shoulder gently. You couldn’t help but smile, but your grin dropped after a second.

His words were kind, but you knew better. Your laugh really was awful. It’s best he didn’t hear it at all.

“And I’ll prove it.”

Wait. What?

Out of nowhere, you felt Lucifer’s fingers at your sides. You yelped in surprise, before laughter followed. You tried to get away, but he kept his hold on you tight.

“Luci! Stop! Ahahaha! No! Sto-Hahaha!!!” Your laughter grew the more he tickled you. Then suddenly, a loud snort left you.

You went dead silent after Lucifer’s tickling came to a halt.

Damn it.

You couldn’t even bring yourself to look at him, as your face became heated. The silence between you two made you want to die.

Then. Lucifer spoke.

“That…was so adorable!”

You quickly turn your head to face him, giving him the most confused look. What did he just say?

“A-Adorable?” You repeat.

“Yes! And here I thought you couldn’t get any cuter!” Lucifer coos. You blinked, unable to comprehend what he was saying. There was no way he could find your laugh adorable.

“But…so many people get annoyed by it. It’s…it’s obnoxious, and loud. I snorted for fucks sake Luci!”

“And?”

And!? And???

“And! It’s terrible!”

Lucifer chuckles before pulling in close. “My love, when I said I love everything about you, I meant it. Including, your cute laugh.”

You felt your face heat up again. But not from embarrassment.

“Y-You mean that?”

“Of course I mean it.” Lucifer says as he kisses your temple. “Don’t hide your laugh from me again, please? It’s lovely.”

You smile warmly before snuggling into Lucifer further. “Thank you Luci.”

“Also. If I hear anyone saying your laugh is annoying or obnoxious, I’ll tear them apart.” Lucifer says with a happy grin.

You laugh before kissing his cheek. “Good to know.”

[axelsagewrites]

Roy Kent*Future Mrs Gramma

Pairing: roy x f!reader, bestie!jamie x platonic reader

Word count: 1240

Warnings: drinking, angry roy, swearing

Masterlist Here

You and Jamie were the type of friends that wouldn’t see ach other for weeks, months even, then as soon as the other came into sight you were barrelling into their arms for a hug and to jump right back into your last conversation. So, when Jamie found out you were moving to London, only a ten-minute drive from his work no less, he was ecstatic to say the least.

As much as you loved Jamie you never particularly cared about football which weirdly made your friendship better but after Jamie had come round for drinks at your new flat in your drunken haze you decided it was a great idea to go down to Richmond to continue the celebrations. It only took 20 quid and a questionable grounds keeper to get in and soon you were drinking in the stands with your best friend.

“I’m on top of the world!” Jamie half screamed, standing on top of the seat beside where you sat.

You giggled as you hauled yourself up to stand on the seat next to him, “Woohoo!”

-

The sun light pierced your skull as your eyes slowly began to drag themselves open. The piercing ring of a whistle burned your ear as you pulled yourself up. Looking around you remembered where you were. Fuck. You and Jamie must’ve fallen asleep last night lying on the ground in a row of seats at least 15 rows back. On the upside this meant the footballers on the pitch couldn’t see you as they practised but, on the downside, they were already here!?

“Pst, Jamie,” you whispered as you shoved at the lump whose head had been lying opposite of yours. Jamie just mumbled something as he rolled on his side. Almost as if fate you could hear a very deep, and very angry voice yell “where the fuck is Tartt?”

“Get up,” you gritted your teeth, holding back gagging as you tried to both nurse your hangover and wake up the log beside you. you sighed before pinching his nose.

Jamie began to flap, swatting at your hands, before managing to sit up and out of your grip, “What the fuck man?” he yelled before his eyes fell to the pitch, “Fuck,” he mumbled as you face palmed.

“Tartt!” the voice screamed, heavy footsteps following.

Thank god you were at the furthest away seats. “It was nice knowing you Jamie,” you sighed, patting his shoulder.

“You’re fucked if he catches you too, ya know?”

“Fuck,” you looked up over the seat to see a relatively built man in his 30s thundering over to the section you were in.

“Who the hell is there?” the gruff voice called out as he climbed into the stands.

It was now or never. thank god your parents forced you to do track you thought as you pulled yourself to your feet and began to book it. you heard Jamies cheers as you began to essentially jump down the rows over the seats, all while trying not to spew. The man trying to catch you paused, debating which person to chase first as Jamie took off running the other way.

Sadly, he chose you. however luckily for you he tried to chase you into the seats, and you were, somehow, faster than him despite him being a professional footballer. The number of times you and Jamie had to run away from the people he’d mouthed off to had apparently came in handy as you jumped out the stands, onto the pitch, and began to sprint.

You could hear the man start to chase you but refused to turn around, instead heading straight to the exit, screaming, “I fucking hate you Jamie!” as you ran. Somehow you made it to the parking lot with the worst stitch of your life and a snapchat from Jamie keeled over laughing at the side of the pitch.

-

You swore from then on to avoid Richmond like the plague. That was until Jamie texted you saying he needed a lift cause his car had a flat tire. as you sat in the parking lot, tapping on your steering wheel bored out your nut you heard the metal door clang as it slammed open. You looked up, half expecting to see Jamie, and instead finally seeing those angry eyes up close. “Oh fuck,”

“You!” you could see him mouth, his finger jabbing at you as you locked the car doors. He stormed over, tapping on your window.

You let it down ever so slightly, “Hello,” you said, as if nothing had happened.

“Hi,”

“Can I help you?”

“Can you fucking-I-how-I mean-you run fucking fast!” he eventually managed out prompting you to raise an eyebrow, “Aren’t you gonna roll your window down all the way?”

“Last time I saw you, you were chasing me,”

“That’s cause you and your prick boyfriend broke into the stadium,”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you said, and a strange look washed over his face you couldn't quite read, “Besides he said you made him run 30 laps hungover. I think we’re even,”

This time he squinted, his weird look vanishing, “Maybe I should make you run 30 laps,”

You couldn’t help but snort at his words, “Id like to see you fucking try,” you said as a few other footballers began to walk out, all looking away when he glared at them, “Roy, right?”

“Yeah, who are you?” he asked. You figured with witnesses now he couldn’t murder you so rolled the window down all the way and stuck your hand out to introduce yourself. His shake was firm, his skin rough as sandpaper, but for some reason you were sad to let go, “Id like to say it was nice to meet you,”

“Don’t worry,” you said, turning the car on when you saw Jamie finally sauntering out, “feelings mutual,” you said before beeping your horn and leaning out the window, “Get a fucking move on mate,” you called at Jamie before ducking back into the car. “And don’t worry, I’ve learned my lesson. I hate running,”

“Me too,”

You tilted your head in confusion, a trait Roy found oddly endearing, “You’re a footballer?”

“I know,” he said as if talking to a small child making you roll your eyes, “What can I say? I’m a fucking idiot,”

“Alright grampa don’t be too hard on yourself,” Jamie grinned as he climbed into the passenger seat. You however turned around and smacked his arm, “Eh! What’s that for?”

“You told me three. Its fucking almost four you twat,”

“Practise ran over! blame him,” he said, pointing at Roy who was already rolling his eyes.

“Call us even then?” you sighed, turning to Roy. He nodded and started to walk away as you put the car into first gear only to be interrupted by Roy walking back over, “You, okay?”

“Yeah, just wondering,” he paused for a second, “You gonna be at the next game?”

You glanced at Jamie whose eyes were bulging out his sockets before laughing. “Dunno, should I be?”

“Wouldn’t mind it if you were,”

“Might just come then,” you grinned, “See you around Roy,” you said but all he did was nod and step away so you could finally drive off.

Jamie groaned as you drove out the parking lot, “Oh god you’re gonna fuck a grampa,”

“Not just any grampa,” you laughed at him, “I’m gonna be your step gramma.”

Ted Lasso Taglist: @gee72sstuff

General Taglist: @obx-josie18 @ravenmoore14 @tessakate

[owliellder]

The Finer Details

Post DI! Leon Kennedy x f! Painter Reader

MDNI 18+

(Session 1, Session 2, Session 3, Session 4, Session 5, The Reveal)

Description: Leon realizes that retirement is in his best interest now that he's getting older. All of his accomplishments as an agent mean he's truly earned a painting to commemorate..

Warnings: Not Proofread, Age gap! (reader is anywhere between mid-late 20's and Leon is 40), Porn w/ Plot, Use of she/her pronouns, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Alcoholism, mentions of trauma/PTSD/depression, P in V smut (wrap it NEOW), Leon cries during sex 💔

Tags: Older Leon Kennedy, Younger afab!Reader, Leon is SAD but he is your muse, Crying, mentions of Leon masturbating, starts off with Dom! Leon and Sub! Reader, falls into switch territory because that man needs some serious TLC, Praise kink, Hickeys, Handjob, Nipple play, Oral sex (m! and f! receiving), and a heavy dose of Aftercare

Author Note: I wanna say there's some pretty descriptive talk about depression in this chapter, just as a heads up. Anyways, it's my weekend and I'm going to be absolutely zooted every single day so the next chapter will most likely be out Monday morning PST lol.

Cross-posted on AO3

Session 3: Blocking In Color

It was nearly three weeks until you saw Leon again.

You tried to call him a couple days after he'd left that day, a few more times over the following week, but to no avail. The man was unreachable.

Even though you did your best to convince yourself that you just wanted to get his painting started, "It was an important one", you knew that you were really just worried about him.

You've seen this kind of dismay with the other retired agents that've had a portrait painted in the past, but they at least recognized what they'd been through.

Leon hasn't. You could just tell.

Looking over the sketches you made of his face, you couldn't help but wonder what exactly he'd been thinking about the last time he was here. He seemed so bothered, acting like he was hiding it so well, too.

Then again, you did drop a rather large bombshell on the guy while he was in a pretty vulnerable state, but you thought he knew what the portrait he was going to receive was suppose to mean. Again, most of the retired agents you'd seen were similar to Leon in that regard and even they at least had a basic grasp on the finality of it all. So why didn't he?

You nursed your bottom lip, still staring at the sketches laying in front of you while you sat at one of your desks in the corner. You normally don't come to your workspace unless you're actively painting, yet you'd shown up everyday in hopes Leon would randomly pop in. He seemed like the kind of guy to just kind of show up, anyways...

If you had just gotten a picture that day you've could've at least started working out the positioning for his portrait. Unfortunately, he wasn't in any position mentally to put up with anymore of your shenanigans at the time, it seemed.

You really did try your best to get ahold of Leon, eventually giving up a few days ago. You'd already emailed the President, who had been the one to personally commission you unlike with previous ex-agents, letting him know that it's going to be longer than expected. Thankfully he was understanding, knowing rather well how much the whole retirement thing was weighing on Leon.

You'll come back tomorrow and try again. Even the next day, and the day after that if you have to, and so on and so forth.

Guilty. That's all Leon felt right now.

He's been shelled up in his house since the moment he got home after leaving your building, withering away by the minute.

He hadn't showered, barely eaten, only ever really pulling himself from what little comfort his room offered to grab whatever bottle he touched first in the cabinet. Leon didn't care, just as long as it was something.

Chris had been over a couple times after he stopped responding to his messages, doing his best to get him out of the house. Claire had been over a few times more than her brother had, bringing groceries once she'd heard about the sad state Leon was keeping himself in.

It broke both their hearts, but they could only do so much for him. Leon was stubborn, head strong, he wasn't the kind to sway to many forces. He had somehow gaslit himself into thinking he was doing well. "Just peachy", even.

Clearly that wasn't the case, both Chris and Claire could see that. They'd have to be blind not to.

Having been in contact with Leon's government-assigned therapist, Chris tried to set up an at-home meeting for him one day. That turned out to be a disaster seeing as Leon was bordering on blackout drunk and could barely keep his eyes open. Not to mention the vomiting.

Claire even tried to bathe Leon. She only got far enough to wash his hair in his kitchen sink, using his vomit-covered mouth as an excuse to keep him over the sink long enough to shampoo his greasy, stringy hair.

All of it was weighing on him too much. He felt so guilty for making his friends feel like they had to babysit him, ignoring everyone's calls and messages, your calls and messages. That kind of thought process quickly spiraled into him reliving the worst days of his life, having to through suffer so many flashbacks and nightmares, not sleeping because of it. He rarely ever felt safe enough to get under the covers on his bed.

None of this is what he wanted. If it were up to him, he'd start all over; be twenty-one again, work as a cop, maybe get promoted a few times, find a girlfriend, start a family, have a normal life. Why couldn't he have that?

Staying awake night after night, Leon would stare at the ceiling in his bedroom and fantasize about the wonderful life he could've had, the happy memories he could've made. It would make him weep, longing for something that never could've been.

Instead, Leon was stuck with endless images of horror, death, and gore every time he blinked, and oh was he bitter about it all. So bitter, so angry, so...

Feeling sorry for himself was all he could do now. Sure, he killed all those monsters and zombies, saved all those people, not once did he think about himself through the years. Now he had all the time in the world to question and wonder, and having to think about himself and what he wanted most made him feel like a needy, greedy bastard.

But wasn't he allowed to be greedy, if only just a little? He had wants, needs, and though he wanted so desperately to change his past, he knew he couldn't. So, what did he want now? That, he didn't know.

Guilty for feeling this way, guilty for wanting different, guilty for wanting anything good for himself.

It took the better part of those two weeks for Leon to finally muster up some form of energy to stumble into his bathroom and shower one afternoon, dizzy and nauseous. The light emanating from the rest of his house was blinding, not having even bothered to close the shades he had on any of his windows. His room was kept a cave and that's where he stayed.

Leon now found himself sitting down in the shower just like before he'd decided to retire, only this time it was mostly to keep from slipping and dying. The last thing he needed anyone to see was him naked and dead in the shower. Embarrassing.

His thoughts at the moment were shallow, still pretty drunk from his bender, head lulling back and forth a bit as his vision spun. He was finally hungry again, the heat from the shower making that all the more obvious as he grew lightheaded, but he didn't know what he wanted.

After managing to actually crawl his way out of the shower, he dug through the pile of dirty laundry at the end of his bed, finding a pair of boxers that didn't smell too terrible to put on.

Leon used the wall heavily for support to walk out into his kitchen, muttering curses under his breath at just how bright it was. Opening his freezer, he stared at the meal prep containers left by Claire, grabbing one to attempt and read what she'd wrote on the sticky note attached to the lid.

That's right... She made him little meals, even putting them in the freezer so they didn't go bad as fast. All he had to do was put it in the microwave.

Simple enough, he could do that.

The one he chose was meatloaf and mashed potatoes. Just the sound of it had his stomach rumbling and his mind craving the comforting taste of a home cooked meal.

The first few bites in made Leon feel nauseous again, but once those bites hit his stomach the feeling immediately gave way to just how hungry he actually was.

He tried to pace himself, he really did try, yet he managed to devour the food in front of him in a matter of minutes, only pausing every few seconds to breathe. It felt so good, something warm in his stomach. Filling in all the right ways. Once he finished, he pushed the empty container away and just laid his head down sideways on the cool countertop, closing his eyes as he let the food settle.

As much as he wanted to degrade himself for acting this way, reducing himself to such a weird and pathetic state, Leon didn't have the mind to. All he knew right now was that the warmth that the meal Claire made him. Not to sound cliche, but he genuinely believed he could taste the love cooked into it.

For the first time in what was now two and a half weeks, Leon was awake and alert when Chris and Claire came over again. He'd eaten everything Claire made, holding all the now cleaned containers out to her. It was a silent plea for more, and lucky for Leon, she had just made another grocery trip for him.

Unbeknownst to him, Claire had been cooking here at his house. This entire time he thought she'd been bringing the meals over, assumed to be leftovers from cooking for her family. She did confess to hoping the smell of the food cooking would pull him from his room. It didn't, much to her dismay, but now she was just glad he was up and eating again.

As soon as Leon tried to apologize for dragging her away from her family, she was quick to shut him down with that mom stare she'd developed after having her kids. It worked, especially on him.

Chris was busy chatting up Leon while Claire cooked him another set of meals for the next week. It was hard to converse, but Leon did manage to nod and him as the other man talked about some random encounter he had the other day while out driving.

It was strange to feel so lively again. Those thoughts still clung to the back of his mind, though all he could focus on were his friends taking care of him like one of their own. Leon feels like he's been a terrible friend lately, seems as though the siblings standing in his kitchen didn't feel the same. He wasn't showing it, but Leon was definitely holding back a smile.

A couple hours had past, Chris opting to stay with Leon and eat lunch since Claire had to head back and help her husband with something.

The hug Claire gave Leon was phenomenal. After the hug he shared with you he's been craving that physical contact more than ever, so finally getting another good squeeze from a friend was boosting his mood.

Chris and him sat, ate, and talked about whatever came to mind, eventually asking about you.

"How's the painting coming along? Do you like the painter?" He smiled, looking at Leon with wide, curious eyes. That man always had a smile gracing his features.

Leon shrugged, taking a sip from the water he poured himself not too long ago. He was pretty dehydrated after solely drinking alcohol for the past couple weeks. "She's alright. Haven't started the painting yet."

Chris raised an eyebrow, placing his arms on the counter and crossed them as he leaned forward slightly. "Just 'alright'?" he emphasized the word "alright" with air quotes, which caused Leon to scoff.

"What else do you want me to say? I've seen her twice so far and its been fine." Leon lifted his hands up in confusion, palms facing the ceiling as he watched the man sitting next to him rolled his eyes dramatically. "C'mon, she was amazing for Claire and I- Okay, how about this..."

Chris repositioned himself so his entire upper body was facing him now, leaning in a little closer to ask another question. "Do you like the room she works in? Cause I thought it was pretty comfy. When she was focusing on Claire's part of the portrait, I took a nap over on that rug she had. All those pillows mixed with the classical music knocked me the fuck out."

He laughed, shaking his head at memory before looking over at Leon again. "So...? And don't lie to me, I saw that pillow on your couch."

Leon sucked on his teeth and hummed, glancing over his shoulder at his couch. "It's cozy, yeah." He brought his head back forward, patting his hands gently against the counter.

The two chatted for awhile longer before Chris eventually had to leave, giving Leon a firm pat on the shoulder while shaking him a bit. After he left, Leon was left to sit alone and think again, only difference now is he felt better. He was crazy tired, his social battery quickly drained from having his friends around, but he felt good nonetheless.

He wasn't ready at the time, yet after a sober night with solid sleep, Leon woke up the next morning and decided to just text you, hoping you weren't mad at him. Calling would've been too much at that moment, not even have listened to the voicemails you left, or anyone's, for that matter.

His chest felt tight after sending the text, but it was quickly eased about ten minutes later when you responded with nothing but enthusiasm. The smiley face you added at the end of your message made him smile, quickly wiping it away with his hand.

Your next session was arranged two days ahead of time in the late afternoon. Leon wanted to give himself enough time to recollect since he needed to look his best the following weeks. You told him it was time to start with the main painting, which you still needed a picture for.

During that time he finally shaved his stubble, went out and got his hair trimmed, tackled all the laundry he'd neglected, and got his best suit dry cleaned. All thoughts aside, he felt good and wanted to stay this way.

Needless to say, Leon was jittery when he pulled up to your workplace again. He was finally letting himself feel excited again about this painting. If it's anything close to what Chris and Claire's portrait is, then that excitement will only continue to grow the further along you get.

You were already there waiting for him at the door, a gentle smile on your face. That wonderful soft perfume that he missed reaching his nose once more as you lead him up the stairs and through the other door. Chris was right, if he had the opportunity, he'd take a nap on your rug. It looked mighty comfy.

Leon was thankful you didn't ask any questions on his whereabouts, he wasn't ready to talk. You were just as excited as he was about getting the painting started, if not more. Watching you eagerly move back and forth between the larger easel and your desks was a refreshing sight to the man.

You stood at your easel for a couple minutes, just silently looking from the blank canvas to where he was sat. You told him to get into a comfortable position, prompting him rest his right leg on his left knee, leaning back and to the side so he was sitting at a slight angle, arms resting on the chair's armrests.

You stared at him for a few seconds, tilting your head side to side with your eyes squinted. "Let me just-" you spoke in a hushed voice, walking over to Leon before cautiously reaching out to rest one hand on the underside on his chin while the other hovered over the side of his face.

You weren't an idiot, you knew what his absence was from. So you made sure to be careful with him, knowing he was probably still pretty fragile. Only gentle and cautious touches for Mr. Kennedy.

So close yet so far. His skin tingled in your hands wake, and god he hoped you couldn't notice his blush.

You could, but you wouldn't say anything. Besides, you weren't faring well yourself, hands a little shaky as you touched his face.

Leon just let you move his head to whatever position you wanted, his eyes now half-lidded as you had walked back a couple times to get just the right angle. You pulled away for a final time with a small "aha!" and he wished you would hold his head for just a little longer.

The floor where your easel sat was marked with an 'X' made with painter's tape, making it easy for you to stay in the right spot for the photo once you pushed the easel out of the way.

"Don't move." You held your hands up after analyzing his position, quickly hurrying over the corner opposite of your desks to grab a bulky camera that sat atop a tall tripod. You worked as fast as you could, knowing as long as you had a picture with him in this position then this whole process would go so much smoother.

You didn't even have to ask Leon to smile or look up at the camera since he was sitting there with a rather dopey smile, his eyes remaining trained right on yours. Nice and natural. He looked relaxed which is exactly what you wanted.

Just as a precaution, you took multiple pictures, giving him a thumbs up once you figured you'd gotten enough. His head back to rest on the chair at the okay, listening to the sound of you walk over to your laptop after untwisting the camera from the tripod. You printed out 3 copies of the photograph and taped one to a stand you had brought over to sit next to the easel, making sure it sat eye level to you.

The ball was finally rolling, now having what you needed to start with the main sketch. When Leon lifted his head up, he noticed that you were ready, sucking in a sharp breath through his nose while he shifted a little to get back in just the right position.

You twirled your pencil between your fingers before beginning to roughly sketch out the chair, eyebrows furrowing as you focused. Leon could see your expression, how intensely you zoned into your work. It was incredibly admirable and he found himself fully content in just watching you do your thing.

It didn't take long before you had sketched out his general shapes, now walking over to take the sketches you made of his face out of your sketchbook to clip up right next to the reference photo. The more finer details would be added later, but you wanted to get just the basic shapes of his face.

That didn't take long either, because before Leon knew it, you were telling him it was okay to talk. He was pretty animated with his hands when he talked, so you kept him quiet until now.

"Am I easy to draw?" Leon spoke with an almost sultry tone after a few seconds of you telling him he could speak. It threw you off only a bit, carding your fingers through your hair as you took one step back to look at what you had so far.

"I wanna say yes and no." You responded, catching his questioning look from the corner of your eye. "You're easy to sketch out, yes, but your hair is giving me trouble." You could hear a low chuckle rumble from his chest as you stepped back forward. "Hey, you asked." You laughed back.

"I know, I know." He shook his head with a poorly hidden grin, tilting his head down to try and hide it a little better. You immediately pointed your pencil at him, not taking your eyes off the canvas. "I said you could talk, not move." Your sarcastic tone made him chuckle again, slowly lifting his head back up with a sigh.

"Yes, ma'am." You could just hear the smirk in his words, causing you to let out a sigh of your own.

By the time the sun had started to set, you had blocked out all the simple colors for the painting. Right now, it just looked like a very bland and abstract painting. It'll come together, slowly but surely. Trust the process, as people say.

Leon was in awe already, having stood up to look at your progress as you washed your hands over in the small bathroom. Oil paints smeared something fierce and as much as you loved your job, you did not want feel oily at home.

"It already looks stunning." You heard the man say from where he stood in front of the easel. It wasn't quite registering in his brain that it was him on that canvas just yet, but hopefully soon it would.

He wanted to recognize himself in something as wonderful as your art.

[suhnshinehaos]

" at every table, i'll save you a seat. "

synopsis : like the title suggests, the five times you and joshua hong save each other a seat pairings : joshua hong x gn!reader genre/s : non-idol au, university au, college sweetheart!joshua, pure fluff contains : food + alcohol consumption featuring ! seungcheol and jeonghan wc : ~1.4k

01.

joshua first spots you in a crowded library and well, you didn’t quite look your best.

to be honest, neither did he with the bags under his eyes, the bedhead he couldn’t be bothered to fix, and the fact that he came to campus in the same clothes he slept in. but finals week had just begun and most everyone looked like him, including you. with your books clutched to your chest, looking around the room for a free table you could study in. 

but there were none, and you realized it too. in seeing the disappointment in your eyes and your shoulders slouching forward, joshua makes a split-second decision to move his bag on the chair opposite him and place it just by his feet. luckily, you weren’t too far so all he has to do is make a quiet cough to get your attention.

“you can take that seat, if you want. i’m not waiting for anyone.” joshua nods towards the chair opposite him, offering you a seat and a small, yet kind smile.

when he sees the grateful grin that slowly spread across your face, hears the several thank yous that left your lips, he’s glad he didn’t take up seungcheol’s offer for a group study at his apartment. he can’t help but laugh and shake his head, telling you that you don’t have to thank him so much. 

the rest of your first meeting was spent in silence, coupled with a quiet thank you from you and a no problem from him when you decided you had enough studying for the day. and though he looked up at your furrowed brows and your lips mouthing the words to whatever passage you were reading every few minutes, joshua hong did not ask for your number.   

02.

you see him again in the campus’ most famous cafe, and he looked just about ready to leave as soon as he walked in.

finals week had just ended and most of the student population decided to crowd all the cafes and restaurants in and around campus. you always liked a seat by the window and near the entrance, where the warm sunlight streamed in, and just before he could walk in, you thought about the kind guy who offered you a chair in the library. part of you regrets not making conversation with him, he was cute. even with the bedhead. then again, you had an exam to pass and making conversation was not on the agenda, no matter how kind or cute you thought he was. 

as cheesy as it sounded, you often like to thank whatever higher being in the universe who decided to intervene and brought him back to you.      

the bell that signalled the arrival of a new customer rings and you couldn’t help but think aw, who’s the poor soul who’s going to end up walking out after seeing the place full. you’ve already seen a couple of people leave, so it had become a habit.

of course, your eyes widened at the sight of him and you didn’t know what you were thinking when you decided to raise your hand to catch his attention. when that didn’t work, you’re grateful neither of you were not at the library anymore and you had the luxury of being loud.

“hey! pst! you! guy in the plaid button-down!”

he follows your voice and looks at you in shock, pointing to himself to make sure that you were actually referring to him. you nod and wave him over, when he was close enough to be able to hear your normal speaking voice, you gestured to the empty seat in front of you.

“you can sit here, i’m not waiting for anyone.” 

without any finals to worry about, the two of you were actually able to talk to each other. you listened to him rant about how this is the third cafe he’s been to because the previous two were full. he listened to you talk about how one of your professors had it out for you with the exam you just finished.

and when you asked for his number, his face lit up and your heart skipped a beat. his did too.   

03. 

within three months of knowing you, joshua hong invited you to beer night with his closest friends, seungcheol and jeonghan.

he never actually planned on inviting you, but jeonghan insisted because quote shua, you literally can’t stop talking about this yn and i’m curious to meet the kind of person that turned you into the type to giggle like a schoolgirl while texting someone. he turned to seungcheol for help, but all he could do was shrug his shoulders and smirk, “sorry, i’m with han on this one.”

your part-time job had the tendency of keeping you around their office for much longer than you would like, which meant you were running late to beer night at seungcheol’s too. 

“yn’s on their way, they said we could start drinking-” joshua reads your text out loud, but he stops himself when he spots seungcheol about to take the unoccupied seat next to him, “don’t you usually sit in front of me? next to han?”

seungcheol raises an eyebrow, but does move to take the seat next to jeonghan, “can’t believe i’m being ordered around under my own roof.”

when you finally burst through the door, after spurting out a string of apologies for being late, you take the only empty seat. the one next to joshua.

“it’s okay, we don’t mind waiting.” he smiles at you as soon as you take a seat, raising his glass to his lips.

that was the same night he confessed to you, cheeks flushed red and a slight slur in his voice. never have you been more grateful for an early morning lecture, it meant that you didn’t drink a drop of alcohol and you could remember every word he let out.    

04. 

you asked him out on a date the following morning, which he agreed to with the largest grin you’ve ever seen come from a person and a joking you beat me to it! i planned on asking you out. 

but it seemed like your job had other plans for you that night. though you texted joshua about the     possibility of rescheduling, alongside several apologies and capitalized keyboard smashes and frustrated phrases on cursing your job and your boss, he insisted that he doesn’t mind waiting and you could take as much time as you need.

you refused to believe it, surely no one in the world is actually this kind and understanding? on your cab ride to the fancy restaurant you spent several weeks calling up to try and get a reservation to, you were mentally preparing yourself to not see joshua there. though it would break your heart to see an empty table, you also knew you couldn’t blame it against him as you were a little over an hour late.

“why are you still here?” you don’t even bother to hide the gasp that escaped your lips at the sight of him. though your heart skipped a beat at the sight of joshua all dressed up in a nice suit with his hair slicked back, it picked up at the pace at the sight of him smiling and gesturing to the empty seat opposite of his own.

“where else would i be?”      

05.

on the night you first moved in together, you and joshua had no furniture in your brand new apartment except for a quaint little two-seat dining set. 

but he didn’t mind. not when it’s him you’re coming home to every single day.

“i saved you a seat,” he says as soon as you walk in the front door, smile on his face and take out in hand.

you can’t help but throw your head back in laughter as you sit on one of the chairs, “can’t believe all our furniture delivery got delayed except for this one. you do realize we’re sleeping on the floor tonight, right?”

“i do.” joshua shakes his head, takes the seat opposite you, and reaches a hand out across the table for you to hold. “but i don’t mind waiting for everything to get here as long as i’m with you.”   

from reese, with love <3

it's physically impossible for me to listen to the song lover by taylor swift without thinking of joshua hong so here we are. also, this was supposed to be a quick little think but college sweetheart!shua has a chokehold on me >_< i'd love to know what you think! thank you for reading :>

[slayfics]

PST. PST! Over here! I need a cockwarming sesh with hitoshi 🥺❤️ like they're having a movie night with guys or just us two and he whispers "just the tip"... Which we both know won't happen so when the guys leave after the movie ends (cockwarming the entire time) does he fuck you stupid 🤤🤤

Movie night with Hitoshi.

Warnings: Hitoshi aged up | NSFW

1,200 words~

"Ok, so we're totally binge-watching all of the new season, right?" Denki asked, entering Hitoshi's dorm with Eijiro.

"Yeah man, we have to! I have to know what happens!" Eijiro responded enthusiastically making his way to sit next to you and Hitoshi on the bed facing the TV.

"Yup, we agreed to watch as much as we could tonight," Hitoshi said.

"Aw man- I don't want to sit on the floor," Denki complained looking at the now full bed.

"I can make some room," You offered and climbed up to sit on Hitoshi's lap. Hitoshi's face pinkened at the feel of you in his lap.

""Ohhh~," Denki sang teasing you both.

"Shut up!" You retorted, smacking his arm playfully.

"Ok ok, I'll leave you two love birds alone," he said, moving to the newly opened-up spot on the bed.

Hitoshi cleared his throat trying to stay oriented to the situation. He knew he was around friends but- the sensation of you on top of him was making his mind wander.

"Everyone ready for me to start the show?" He asked.

Everyone nodded in agreement and Hitoshi pressed play. As much as he was excited to finally watch the new season of the show, he found himself unable to focus at all. He might as well have been blind to everything else except the stimulation he felt from you on his lap.

It didn't help that you'd laugh at the show occasionally or adjust to get more comfortable, rubbing up even more against him.

"Wait man pause it!" Eijiro spoke.

"What's wrong?" Hitoshi asked, pausing the show.

"We should have brought up snacks!" Eijiro answered.

"I was just thinking the same thing! You guys want to head downstairs real quick?" Denki suggested.

"No- you two go," Hitoshi answered quickly.

"Sure, but want us to bring you two back anything?" Denki asked.

"Popcorn please," You smiled at him.

"You got it! Be right back," Denki spoke, as he and Eijiro exited the room.

As soon as the door shut, Hitoshi rested his head on top of yours and wrapped his arms around your waist pushing you tighter onto him, a small groan escaping him.

"You're enjoying this too much, aren't you? I can feel your excitement," You teased him.

"Mmm," He nodded, nuzzling more into your hair and slightly pressing his hips up to grind even more into you. "Popcorn takes a while to make you know?" He said suggestively.

"What are you trying to hint at Shinso?" You giggled.

Hitoshi moved to press a kiss on your cheek before whispering, "I have time to feel you real quick, just the tip." He proposed.

"They are going to be back any moment," you said, but couldn't deny the rush of adrenaline you felt at his words.

"Hmm- I'll be fast," he pledged.

You didn't answer in words but worked to pull down your panties under your skirt. Following your lead Hitoshi undid his belt and pulled out his cock eagerly.

Hitoshi placed a hand on either of your hips as he guided you to sit back down- sliding himself inside you.

A moan escaped him as you slowly sank down taking all of him inside.

"Fuck- that feels good," he groaned.

"Mpf-," You squeaked out in agreement.

Just as you were about to suggest getting decent before your friends came back- the door flew open.

Denki's back was to the door and as he hip-checked it open, hands full of snacks. Hitoshi quickly grabbed the blanket beside you and threw it over you both- hiding the cockwarming situation you both now found yourself in.

"Alright, let's get this show started again!" Denki said, sitting back in his spot.

"Oh, here is your popcorn!" Eijiro said placing the popcorn just a bit out of reach from you.

"Oh... thanks Kirishima," you said eyeing the popcorn, unsure how to reach for it without removing the blanket, and exposing that Hitoshi was inside you.

"Uhh, you ok?" Eijiro asked, eyeing you confused.

"Yeah! I'm fine," you said and slowly began to reach for the popcorn. Hitoshi understanding, held the blanket carefully in place as you moved. You stretch to grab the popcorn causing his cock to slide back out, just the tip now resting inside.

Getting a grip on the popcorn you paused, aware that once you adjusted to sit back down, you'd be taking in his full length again. "Um... Shinso you- mm- ready for some popcorn," You asked subtly, hoping to prepare him for you to slide back down on his cock.

"Fuck yes," he said too enthusiastically.

"Man, you're really excited for popcorn," Eijiro laughed, tearing open a bag of chips.

You slid back down onto Hitoshi's lap, his cock sliding back inside you simultaneously.

"Mhmmm~" Hitoshi groaned.

You let out a deep sigh trying to bite back a moan that threatened to escape you.

"Alright well press play already," Denki said.

"Right," Hitoshi blinked hard trying to focus as he started up the show again.

Hitoshi paid no attention to the show- how could he while his throbbing cock rested inside you. To make it worse- every so often you'd tease him by adjusting your hips slightly or pretending to reposition yourself on his lap.

Hitoshi bit his lip so hard it broke skin- but he didn't have a choice. If he didn't surely a moan would break loose and expose you both. He couldn't remember ever being so aroused and tortured at the same time.

Finally, to his relief, the episode ended.

"Start the next one!" Denki suggested.

"I'm actually feeling pretty exhausted," Hitoshi said.

"WHAT!?" Eijiro exclaimed. "I thought we were binging this today??"

"I know I'm sorry- tomorrow we can watch more," Hitoshi suggested.

Denki eyed him suspiciously, then snapped his eyes to you on his lap, giving out a chuckle. "Yeah, sureeee~," he said with a wink. "Come on Kirishima, I think that was a nice way to say they want to be alone," Denki said teasingly, pulling his friend off the bed.

"Oh-," Eijiro blushed as they both swiftly excited.

"Fuck~" Hitoshi groaned out as soon as the door closed, wasting no time he thrust into you grabbing your waist for support.

A mewl escaped your lips at the sudden movement.

"Down," he said, pushing you forward, and changing your position. Your face now resting against the sheets- ass exposed to him. "I'm going to have to repay you for that torture you put me through for the last hour," he said devilishly.

"Awe~ don't pretend you didn't like i-" You spoke but your sentence was halted at the hard thrusts from Hitoshi. Giving you no time to speak or catch your breath, he slid himself in and out at full force. Moaning at finally being able to feel your walls slide around him.

Your face buried deeper into the sheets with each hard thrust- and your brain turned to mush at the intense pleasure.

"Shit-" Hitoshi groaned out of frustration. He wanted to punish you longer- but his end was already coming. After being teased for so long he couldn't hold himself back. Losing himself in one final thrust- Hitoshi pulled out and painted the sheets next to you.

"Well, that repayment didn't last very long~," You teased, coming back to your senses.

A devilish laugh erupted from Hitoshi, " Maybe not- but we're not done. Now it's your turn," he said, a smirk on his lips.

Oh my I felt so dirty writing this haha. I hope you enjoy this! Thank you for the request~

Tags: @unofficialmuilover @maddietries @fiannee

[bearhugsandshrugs]

+++CLOSED+++

It's my birthday week, so I'm doing a another giveaway! Like last time, you can get a oneshot of 2-3k words (maybe more, if inspiration grabs me).

Rules:

Followers only (new + existing, I won't check)

Reblog or reply to this to enter

Give away closes Saturday Feb 10th, 6pm CET / Noon EST / 9am PST

I'll assign everyone a number and will draw the winner through a random number calculator

Winner has 48 hours after notification to claim with a short prompt and pairing, or I'll redraw

Fic will go up here and on AO3 once I'm done

For the fic:

NSFW/Smut, other prompts I might veto, depends! Let's chat

Kinks: I write almost everything including dubcon/noncon, feel free to check my AO3, but reserving the right to veto

Characters: strongly prefer Gortash, Rugan, Raphael, Haarlep, The Emperor; while I will write most other characters, I might veto them if I don't believe I'll do them justice.

Prefer Tav but can also write Reader and Durge, female/gn please

I will not write Astarion. Writing him gives me headaches because I struggle with him

Have your prompts ready please in case you win!

–Em

Find the previous winner here.

[webslingingslasher]

let 🥡 smash ethan keznek 2023

— 🥡

that moment when you hook peter's best friend up w someone -tbh this could be an intro to more ethan works. this was me testing the waters.

peter told you not to get involved; too bad you don’t need permission.

however, you didn’t want to get scolded before necessary, so, you creeped out of peter's bed one early morning, gently removing his arm from your waist, sending him to roll over on his stomach with a harsh snore.

walking on tip toes before slowly opening his bedroom door, closing it by turning the doorknob all the way for a silent latch. keeping the same stealth for ethan’s door.

he's still sleeping and doesn't falter for even a second after you click the door shut.

his room was much brighter than peter’s. you had no idea how he could sleep in it. for the third year, he’s refused to get curtains. “why would i waste my money? think about it, when you go to bed it’s dark, so what’s it matter?”

ethan’s nuzzled into a pillow, his mouth open as he breathes harshly. you look behind you, paranoid peter's followed you into the room, about to catch you with your hand in the cookie jar, but you’re shut in alone.

poking at his shoulder his body slumps more to the side, you poke again. he stops breathing for a second, then takes a large inhale, smacking his lips and raising the sheets up to his chin.

“pst.... ethan,” you poke several times.

“ethan!” a whisper means nothing, you shake his arm hard. it sends him flying up, nearly smacking your forehead with his, his eyes not caught up to who woke him, about to shout, you cover his mouth with your hand.

“we have to be quiet, peter can’t know.”

he's awake in a second, alarm bells ringing in his head.

his body flies backwards, his back hitting the wall his bed’s against. you wince at the collison, his voice pitched.

“no. no way, man. i’m not doing that to him. parker’s all about you, i can’t do that.”

you sit on the edge of his bed and crawl until your knees are brushing against his shins.

“shhh! don't worry about it, he doesn't have to find out, you know? we can keep it between us. just be quiet, okay?"

ethan's shaking his head in a fury, "no, i can't. we can't. this isn't you, if you leave now i'll... i'll keep it between us."

"c'mon it's not the first time i've kept a secret from peter."

his voice tilted, "you've done this before?"

"well... i try not to make it a habit or anything. but, he doesn't need to know everything does he?"

ethan looks away from you, his figure deflated. "ah, trouble. that's... that's not cool. he really, really loves you. like, more than he's loved anyone. this is gonna break his heart."

you furrow your eyebrows and reach out to pat his arm, he rips it away from you. "ethan, it's not that serious. he'll be annoyed but he's not gonna hate me."

"no, this is gonna fucking ruin him. you don't understand what he's done to become the person you deserve. or, i guess now it's the person he thought he deserved."

you want to throw a tantrum, "why are you being so mean? you're not mean to me, ever. that's why i like you."

ethan sits up, "mean? i'm being mean? you're the one trying to fuck your boyfriends best friend and i'm the one being targeted?"

it takes a second, but your eyes go wide and you gasp.

"oh no! no, no. that's not what's happening right now, ethan. i see-" you clear your throat and look away from him for a second, slightly embarrassed. "i see how you could think that, i was being a little cryptic."

"uh huh."

you feel offended, "woah, okay, don't act like i'm switching stories because you rejected me. cause that's not what's happening."

ethan narrows his eyes, "uh. huh."

"don't think so low of me, that hurts! i was trying to- alright fine, hold on, let me start over."

you shake your shoulders out and take a deep breath, "technically, you're like... half right. i am trying to get you laid, but like... not.. with me?"

he’s weary, “uh huh. and parker can’t know?”

you shake your head, “okay, see, the funny this is, i told him to tell you and he said no, so i said i’d tell you, and he told me not to get involved. but, i mean, i have a good feeling about this!”

it goes quiet for a moment, you can almost hear him thinking about your words. scratching at his head, hair sticking straight up. ethan rubs his nose before shaking his head with the new information.

“okay, hold on,” he hold his hand up, “you want me get me laid, but not with you, and also, parker can’t know you want to get me laid, but not with you?”

you nod, “yes, exactly.”

ethan hasn’t bought a word of your shit. too many excuses. he takes a deep inhale, then explodes, “parker! park-“ you dive bomb into him, laying halfway across him while you slap your hand over his mouth. he gives you wide eyes, holding his hands up, scared to touch you.

if peter were to catch him with you on him like this, especially if he's touching you, he'd be a dead man.

you're thrown over his lap, he's only in boxers and you're only in his best friends shirt, and he doesn't have a good feeling about you having super short pants underneath it.

you didn't even hear the door open, just breathing harshly down at his friend. you hiss at him, “shut up!” ethan looks petrified, “i told you, peter can’t know!”

your shirt is tugged from behind, it goes tight on your throat. a third voice is in the room. “off.” it’s stern, but not upset. it makes you turn politely, batting your eyelashes at your boyfriend innocently.

“it’s not what it looks like,” because given the position, you’re half straddling ethan while he’s ninety eight percent naked. peter nods, “i know it’s not. it’s worse, you got involved.”

deny, deny, deny.

“nope, actually, i’m laying it on thick. this entire thing has been a ploy to get to ethan the entire time."

your shirts tugged again, this time stricter, "off." you back up gently, trying not to brush against him too much, peter nodding apologetically at his best friend when he's untrapped.

"sorry, e. i told her to leave you alone."

"but, peter!" you struggle agaisnt his hold, "c'mon, ethan! just hear me out, i mean, aren't you just a little curious?"

now he knows you were being truthful and weren't trying to secretly hook up with him he's a tad interested, and if you're so sure about this why would peter keep some tail from him?

"well... since we're all up."

peter scoffs and pushes you towards his bed, "fuck this, i'm going back to sleep. keep your body off of his, alright, trouble?" you salute him, "okay! see you in a minute, love you," you hit him with a kissy face, he supplies, "uh huh, sure."

you clasp your hands and grin at ethan, "okay, so," you sit back down next to him on his bed, turning your body to face him better, "her name is taylor, and she's super into you."

"and she's your friend?" it would make sense why peter didn't want him to know. it's a dangerous road to tag-team them both.

"well... she kinda is now. we met at a party here, i was going to the bathroom and she walked into peter's room, cause she was also looking for the bathroom, and then we started talking cause she walked in on me mid piss, and she's actually so cool."

you talk with your hands, "like, i dunno, you guys just have a similar vibe and i can just feel like it's a good thing. and i told peter about it but he was just like, 'you guys were just drunk,' and 'this is a set up, i don't trust it.'"

ethan's doing his best to follow you but it's seven in the morning.

"a set up?"

"peter doesn't trust it because he thinks she asked me if i could help her out with you."

"why?"

"she shares an economics class with you, and parties here a lot, and knows i'm dating peter so when we met it was like fate."

"and...?"

well, there's not much after that.

"i mean, that's kinda it. she likes you and she's really cool and you make her nervous so i figured i'd try and help her out."

ethan gives you a dumb face and pulls his blanket back over him, "you woke me up for that? get outta here, go back to parker."

you frown and pull at his arm, "no, no, no, hear me out. she's coming to the party tonight, just let me introduce you guys. and just so you know, she didn't ask for this. i just have a good feeling, you know, like how you did with peter and i?"

and ethan has to give you the benefit of the doubt, he clicks his tongue after he thought it over.

"alright, i'll meet her. but no promises."

you squeal and pull him in for a hug, which he shrugs off and wipes your touch off him. "gross."

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

peter's busy directing a pledge around but your thing is more important.

rushing up to him you rest your hands on his chest, he doesn't even spare you a glance. "just move it over there, no! not- can you understand directions?"

growing impatient you push against him, "peter," his hands wrap around you, pulling you in for a hug, eyes on the struggling teen, "yes, trouble?"

"do you-"

peter whispers a curse under his breath, his chest hums under your ear. "c'mon, pledge! you're not even trying, just put the fucking table to the right." furniture scrapes of the floor and makes a horrible sound, you wince until peter's hands cup your ears, muffling the movement.

when his hands pull away you have his undivided attention, "sorry, trouble. what did you need?"

"do you know what ethan's wearing tonight?"

an unimpressed glance, "no, i don't think it's come up." a frown settles on your face, "okay, can i go check with him then?" your boyfriend sighs, "if you must, but, hey, trouble? i think this is a terrible idea."

"she didn't even ask me to say anything, petee-e-e?" almost letting the name slip around his brothers. "nice save, sweetheart. correct, she didn't ask, but it sounds like she was suggesting it."

"if you love me, you'll trust me when i say i have a good feeling."

peter can't deny that logic. blowing a breath he kisses the top of your head, "alright, go figure out what ethan's wearing then." before you could pull away from his hold he talks over your head, his chest vibrating while he spoke.

"i swear to god, pledge, you'll be cut, i'll send you out of here right fucking now." you poke his ribs, "be nicer and maybe he'll do better. you're freaking him out."

"are you telling me how to run my house?" you shrug and nudge into him further, "give it a try, you never know."

peter snaps his fingers, "jensen," the pledge jumps, "take a five. you're doing great, alright?" and seeing the refreshed smile on the kids face was proof enough for you.

"see? i'm always right."

"yeah, yeah, yeah."

-----------

it took a few hours, but taylor showed up. the second you saw her you did a happy dance in peter's hold, pure adrenaline had you boosting yourself up to kiss his jawline.

"taylor's here, should i find ethan now?"

a gentle pat at your back, "give the girl a second, maybe some liquid courage?"

you whine, "but i'm so excited! they're gonna date, and fall in love and then we'll go on double dates all the time." peter winced at your daydream, "i know, that's why i tried to forbit it."

ignoring him, as you've grown accustomed to, you keep the thoughts spinning. ethan had agreed to letting you introduce them, and taylor doesn't know you asked ethan, and taylor knows ethan but he doesn't know her.

so, if you could get them together, without getting them together, it would be even better. it would be like fate aligned, then, after they meet, you could act shocked when you tell ethan that's the taylor you were talking about.

your plan just might work, if you had a little help. demanding the attention you already have, you repeatedly poke at peter's chest. "hear me out, we set them up but kinda do a meet cute. cause then they're more in control than just some friends introducing them."

your boyfriend shook his head, "we? since you became my girlfriend it's a lot of 'we', this time it's a you. i want no part of this, trouble."

you wave him off, "no, you're obsessed with me. so, i'm thinking we try and get them to play a game of pong together, i mean, you'll have to get ethan in the kitchen but-"

peter's adamant, "no, no me. peter's not involved." to solidify his point he grew an invisible cross over his body.

tugging on his arm, you pout, "no! you have to! you're my boyfriend now, you can't be mean peter again."

"i'm not being mean! i'm just telling you i want no involvement, don't start with me."

it was honestly so rude of him to do this to you, "you're going to make me do this all alone?" peter can't help but laugh, "baby, this is all because of you."

it's true but he's supposed to support you no matter what.

"peter, please?" you think the puppy dog eyes are working, because he softens up, "trouble," you smile, waiting for his agreement, "no."

instantly grumpy, you swipe his hands off you, "oh, hey, don't be like this." you shake your head, "no, you hate me."

"for the six billionth time, i don't hate you."

"no, you-" you stop dead in your tracks, at least some universal force would help you out. because, who other than ethan would walk into the room taylor's in? no one, that's who.

"peter, do you see this right now?"

your back is pulled into his chest, an arm slung around your waist. "i do."

"what do we do?"

"nothing."

"i knew you'd say..." you hold your breath when taylor takes a few timid steps in ethan's direction. he's careless, humming to the song blasting and moving liquor bottles around. right when she got close enough for him to notice she backed off, turning right back for her friends.

"swing and a miss, trouble."

spinning in your boyfriend's hold you nod towards the kitchen, "i have to intervene."

"no, no you don't."

"yes, i have to. so, tell me you love me."

"no, it always encourages you to be bad."

"if i know you love me then i know you won't dump me. so, tell me you love me."

"nope, not happening, i don't condone this."

"peter! tell me you love me or i'm going to cry and know you hate me."

a groan, "trouble, i love you very much," you cheer, that's all you needed.

peter's hand caught yours to stop you from your plan, "but i don't like this. make your own decisions, and know i love you while you make them, but the idea of what you're doing makes me want to eat rocks."

"i stopped listening after 'trouble, i love you very much.'"

"of course you did. alright, fine, go play matchmaker."

you have his permission, it sends you across the living room and into the kitchen, bumping hips with peter's best friend.

"hi, friend," ethan looks up, ripping a chewed straw from his mouth.

"hello, trouble. how can i be of service?"

buying time you gesture to the array of bottles, "wanna make me one?" ethan hands you his cup, "try this first." your eyes flicker to the door way, taylor's tucked against the wall nibbling on her bottom lip when she sees you drink from his cup.

"yummy, make me a double."

"aye aye, captain."

you hum and tap your fingers on the counter, "any plans for tonight?" as he answers your question you scratch at a stain on his hat, "didn't you want me to meet your friend?"

"ooh, and we're planning the night around it?"

"more like hoping to get it out the way," ethan hands you your own solo cup. twisting ever so slightly, you line it up so that taylor's right behind your left shoulder, hoping ethan would glance up at any moment.

"she almost walked up to you, but split halfway through."

ethan's frowning when he pulls his drink down, the straw he was chewing on going back in his mouth.

"i'm not that scary, am i?"

"c'mon, ethan. ever had a crush?" he moves his head around, "sure, but at least i always went after what i wanted."

his eyes flicker up, and you know he's locked eyes with taylor. you can tell when he slowly stops chewing, his focus bouncing back to you, then behind you.

"is your friend around here or can we meet up later?"

you won, peter's going to be so annoyed, but you won.

"she's around, but we'll catch up." you pat his arm, "thanks for the drink, double."

ethan winked, "no problem, trouble."

peter rolled his eyes the second you made his way to him, "they're talking, do you see them talking?"

"ethan looks like he's having fun, morgan looks like she's about to puke."

"her name is taylor, and she's nervous!"

peter nods and finishes his drink, "taylor looks like she's about to puke."

you move to push at peter's back, his feet glue themselves to the floor while trying to look back at you.

"what are yo-"

"go get a drink and tell me what they're talking about."

he scoffs, "and i'm supposed to casually go out of my way to hang out behind them, just to get a jist of awkward flirting?" you know how much he hates it, and detests it, but this time he may give in.

"that's not the only way to listen in..." you trail waiting for him to catch the hint, he shuts it down immediately. "no. not happening." you push against his back, "c'mon, you never let me use your hidden talents."

peter leans back into your hands, "because if i do it once you'll want me to do it all the time." it's unfair and you use the same argument, "you know how much i like him and you never let me play with him."

"you play with him plenty, just not with the tricks."

you pull back to rope around his front, you give him doe eyes.

"just one time, i promise i will never, ever ask again."

peter knows he's playing with fire, he's made a clear line in the sand when it comes to you and spider-man but something in him tells him you really need this.

"just this once, i mean it, trouble."

you grab onto his shoulders, "really, you will? for me?"

"this is your one time pass, you wanna waste it on this?" he knows, and you know, this isn't the last time, but if he pretends it is maybe you'd back out.

"i have a good feeling." peter sighs and moves you to the side, "i'll be right back," you feel giddy, it's the first time you'll see spider-man in action. you zone in on your boyfriend, he moves around like normal, gets a drink, cleans up the counter a little, and you feel a tad disappointed.

peter seems totally normal, it makes sense, he's gotten used to flying under the radar. you watch ethan and taylor, she seems nervous but excited. she's laughing, you think it's a good thing.

it doesn't even look like peter's listening, you wonder if he's just acting like he his. you look around and don't see anyone, you speak low, nothing above a mumble in the music.

"peter? can you hear me?" he's pouring a drink from one cup to another, you huff, "peter." no reaction, "you're the worst boyfriend ever."

in a second he turns his neck, his eyes narrowed on your face while you look down to your feet. he was listening, and it makes you feel all melty. "i didn't mean it, i love you."

his look says 'no you don't.'

you're talking for the both of you, "it looked like you weren't paying attention, you're good at it." he takes an extra minute, then heads back.

you're swaying on your feet, excited for the new update.

"well?"

"it's going good."

"i swear to fucking god, peter, you give me more information right now or i'll dump you."

he holds his hand out, "alright, chill. your friend is smooth in an awkward way and ethan's eating it up. they've got some good banter going on, i'd be surprised if he didn't at least get her number tonight."

you squeal, "do you think he'll kiss her?" peter shrugs while he takes a sip from his solo cup. "probably."

"do you think he's made the connection that she's the taylor i was telling him about?"

he nods, "yeah."

"cool. what now?"

"nothing. you got what you wanted. just sit back and hang out."

"no! that can't be it! it doesn't feel satisfying. i need more!"

"this isn't a movie, trouble. you can't just skip to the good part."

"you're telling me you can't see the future?"

"no."

"that blows."

you shift around, it's driving you crazy. you had to walk away, otherwise you'd wonder over there or keep asking peter to listen in.

"i can't do this- give me a kiss, i'm finding my friends." you raise your chin and pucker, peter supplies a quick kiss. "tell you what, because i love you so much," you gasp, stars in your eyes at his confession. you'd never get annoyed at it, it's not often he says it first.

"i'll come grab you when they split up, just so you can bombard ethan."

"you're the best boyfriend ever."

"damn right i am, i'm making you eat your words, problem child.'

you squint at him and pucker again to silently ask for a kiss, "you're lucky you're cute."

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

an hour later and your groan into your boyfriend's shoulder, "this is torture. how are they still talking?"

"it's a good thing. i'll admit it, i hated it at first, but i've never seen ethan so invested in a girl before."

you may have a shot, "one more time?"

"no."

"but-"

"nope."

"you agr-"

"not happening. no way are you getting twice in one night."

"peter."

"no."

"peter."

"no."

"peter!"

"fuck, fine! jesus christ, give me a minute." you watch him close his eyes, slow deep breaths raised his chest. you poke his bicep gently, "peter-" he was gentle, "shhh."

you press your mouth into his shirt and breathe hot air into him, a minute later and he's shaking you off.

"i'll have you know, this is a very weird feeling. my senses are... different around you, and when you're around it's very distracting."

your head tilts, "really?"

he nods, "it's weird, but everything's going good over there. be happy!"

"weird how?"

"you take priority. when you're around and i try to focus on something else, you stay at the front of my mind. when you were calling my name earlier it tripped me the fuck up."

you hum, "i know why." peter's interested, "oh, really?" you nod, "yes, it's very simple. it's because you love me."

"you know what?" you shy away from his cheek kisses, "i think you are very right."

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

ethan spent the whole night with taylor, at some point they wondered from the kitchen to around the house. around the second hour you lost them entirely.

you shrugged it off and spent the rest of the night getting a little further than buzzed. finding peter in a swarm of friends, desperate for more than a hug.

"hi, trouble." peter tucks you under his arm, his thumb stroking your shoulder sent you wild. "hello," you nuzzle in closer, wrapping your arms around his middle.

you wait for a break in conversation, patiently nodding along and squeezing peter when he says something funny. when two brothers start to lightly bicker, you lean up, softly calling his name.

"hm?"

you motion for him to come closer, you hide your lips behind a cupped hand while you whispered.

"will you please come take care of me in the bedroom?"

peter's turn to whisper, "five minutes, meet you up there." before, you'd be a bit more sly, now that he's your boyfriend, you're proud of it. scrambling away to run up the stairs.

you take a moment to take your pants off, then bounce on the bed, because peter always lectured you when you did it around him. taking an extra minute to snoop around, not that there was a reason, and not that you couldn't do it with peter in the room. it just felt more sneaky.

you spread across your front and reached for his bedside table, nothing interesting on top. the drawer slid out, you peer at the contents and hum, condoms, lube, a couple 'dirty' poloroids he took of you. a few books, nothing you'd read, they seem more like textbooks than something fun to pass the time.

ripping a condom off the strip, you hold it up in the light and turn it. you invision the process of putting one on, you've never actually seen peter do it, one second he has it in his hand, the next,the wrappers on the ground and he's ready.

peter catches you in action, his eyebrows raised. "paranoid i'm poking holes?" you roll to your back and sit up, "do you think i could put this on you?"

"you wanna?"

"i've never done it before, is it hard?"

"i think the first couple times i used 'em i kinda fumbled. but hey, you got the expert guiding you."

you gasp, a smile takes over your face. "really, you'll let me?" your boyfriend let's out a soft laugh, "i don't see why not." peter walks to you and plucks the foil from your fingers, tossing it to the table. "hey! you said i could-"

"you can. but i need you to come on my tongue first, can you do that?"

you nod, wide eyed and sparkly, "yes, yes, i can do that."

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

still naked and blinking at your boyfriend you poke at his nose, "would it be weird if it waited for ethan in his room?"

peter's eyes stayed closed. "extremely."

"but i'm so curious! do you think they're gonna hook up tonight?"

he yawns, "no." you test him by scooching closer, not fully cuddling, but an arm thrown over his hips. "is that like, intuition?"peter tugs you to lay on his chest, you melt into him.

a hand drags up and down your back, "sure is, my best friend intuition." you groan, "we're going in there first thing in the morning and getting the details."

"we?"

"shut up, i know you're just as desperate for information as me."

"... fine, but i'm only going as your moral support."

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

ethan was not home when you woke up and your disappointment was visible.

"my day has been ruined."

"trouble, no it hasn't. give the man a second, you're like a kid on christmas."

"i'm gonna go nuts and it's gonna be your problem, what then?"

"it usually is, so same thing i always do?"

"ugh! this super sucks, i know i should've walked in there. it's eating me alive, like, i'm the one that set this up and i get left in the dust? does ethan think it's his relationship? cause, it's our relationship. without me he'd still be alone."

"damn, trouble, tell me how you really feel."

you jump. peter's pointing with a spatula behind you.

"good fuckin luck, buddy."

the star of the show was home, you cheer and attack him with a hug. ethan supplies gentle pats to your lower back. "where were you, did you go home with taylor, how did you like her, was i right, is there something there, did you kiss her?"

"oh my god, parker, come get your girl."

"oh no, i just pawned her off."

ethan wheezes when you squeeze him, "c'mon, tell me, tell me!" peter calls for you, "trouble, stop bouncing on my friend." you step away, "sorry."

"okay, okay, ready?"

it's everything you've been hoping for, you jump to the counter peter's closest to and swing your feet. ethan has your full attention, "so, went up to her, we were chatting, had a good talk, and got her number."

"and then?"

"we went out for breakfast this morning."

you turn to look for peter's reaction, he's already looking at yours. you nod ethan along, waiting for him to add more.

"and then?"

"uh, that's all."

peter leans over the island to fist bump him, "nice, man. happy for you."

you look at their faces, they seem done with it. no more talk, you're missing the entire story. you panic and shout out, "and then?"

"i told you everything!"

you huff, "no the fuck you didn't, you left out the giant details of everything else." ethan shrugs, "not really. she's cool, we got some breakfast. oh, she gave me her toast. and uh... parker, you saw her, right?"

"i did."

"she's nice looking, right?"

"she is."

ethan gestures to your boyfriend with his chin, "see? all caught up."

you were losing your mind, "really, that's all? nothing on what you talked about, or how you feel about her, no mention of a second date?"

"yeah, yeah, second date happening for sure. i dunno, trouble, guys aren't really like that. but, uh, good pick?"

you spun to peter, pointing in his face, "ha! i knew it, i knew it, i knew it! i told you they would be good together!"

"oh i never doubted you, i just didn't want this,' gesturing to your body, 'happening."

you look back to ethan, "when's the double date?"

peter and ethan respond at the same time, "not anytime soon."

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

bonus::

'hey, peter. did you know ethan and taylor have been together since their first date?'

'i did.'

'four months in and they're saying i love you.'

'they are.'

'and why couldn't that be us?'

'oh, i will not entertain this conversation again.'

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

bonus bonus:::

'you're cuter,'

'no, no, you're cuter.'

'well, you're the cutest!'

'no way, you're cuter than cute.'

'you're so cute you-'

you gag, 'peter, please make them stop.'

'oh no, trouble. this is what you wanted.'

[gentlebeardsbarngrill]

03/08/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; Cast&CrewSightings; DavidJenkins;RuiboQian;Samba Schutte; Alex Sherman; Rhys Darby Cameo; Fan Spotlight; SaveOFMD End of the Line Statement; SaveOFMD Billboard News and updates; Watch Party Reminders; OFMDCrew Gratitude Event; Kudoboard Reminders; New Kudoboards; Fundraiser Statuses; Articles; Love Notes; Daily Darby/Tonight's Taika

== Cast & Crew Sightings ==

= David Jenkins =

Chaos dad poked his nose out to send us some lovely and encouraging words. "Your power is noticed and admired, Don't doubt it. Ever."

= Ruibo Qian =

Our Pirate Queen Ruibo Qian had so much love and support to send today.

= Samba BTS =

Samba's keeping us fed with little bits of BTS each day, thank you Samba. Full Video here courtesy of @daria-meoi

= Alex Sherman =

Oh Alex, our 'Ass Tonight' Guardian Angel. I love that he's just over here liking all our unhinged stuff on top of the usual porn.

== Rhys Darby Cameo ==

Our wonderful crew-mate @_irene_adler and the Our Flag Means Daddy crew got us a wonderful bed-time story from Rhys. Please check it out on Cameo.

== Fan Spotlight =

Thank you @melvisik for continuing to give us lovely collectibles for all our cast & crew. Tonight is Fred Armisen!

== Save OFMD Crew "End of the Line" Statement ==

"Like our inimitable captain Stede Bonnet, we aren’t ready to give up just yet. We are devastated by the news from David Jenkins that attempts to find an alternative home for Our Flag Means Death have "reached the end of the road", but we want to keep fighting—not just for Our Flag Means Death, but for all the shows cancelled before their time. Shows that people put their heart and soul into. Shows that create life-changing experiences for their fans." Please read the rest on the website here.

== Save OFMD Crew Billboard News ==

== OFMD Gratitude Event ==

Join the OFMD Crew on Saturday March 9th, 11 AM PST / 2 PM EST / 7 PM GMT / 8 PM CET, follow OFMDCrew on Twitter.

== Watch Party Reminders ==

03/09/2024 there will be a watch along with the German premiere of OFMD Season 2!

@OurFlagRTL at 1PM EST/4PM GMT/5PM CET #OurFlagRTL.

Feel free to watch in any language you like! #SaveOFMD#LongLiveOFMD

= Wrecked =

Wrecked Season 1 Catch Up Party Starts Tomorrow at 8 am CST / 2pm GMT on the #RhysDarbyFaction server, feel free to reach out if you need access.

= Coming & Going =

Tomorrow 3/9, 9pm cst - 1030pm cst / (3/10) 3am gmt - 430am gmt on the #RhysDarbyFaction server.

We know it's awful, we're getting drunk and having a laugh.

== Kudoboard Reminders! ==

= Taika =

Kudoboard Link

The board will stay up until March 12th, and we will share the link with him on March 13th. The Kudoboard is monitored prior to approval to prevent trolls from jumping in (so if you don't see your additions right away, that's why!)

== Cast & Crew Kudoboards ==

In addition-- thank you to @sharpenyersword on Twitter for setting up ALL THE KUDOBOARDS!

Go send the cast and crew some love folks!

David Jenkins

Nathan Foad

Con O'Neill

Ruibo Qian

Leslie F*cking Jones!

Matthew Maher

Samson Kayo

Alex "Ass Tonight" Sherman!

David Fane

Fellow OFMD Fan Crew!

== Fundraiser Statuses ==

Many fans are turning their grief and feelings of poison into positivity. Since this post by @gentlepanpirate was posted this afternoon around 1:45 MT, the eSIMS and Sanitary Products for Gaza has gone up 12%. Do you have a few dollars to spare? Everyone doing just a few dollars will move it up fast. If not no worries, please consider sharing the link instead!

givebutter.com/OFFP3

= In Soup Now =

In Soup Now in honor of Kristian Nairn's favorite charity Team Haven Belfast, is at 17% Great job everyone working on helping feed unhoused neighbors. Can't donate? No worries! Please consider sharing the link!

https://givebutter.com/OFFP3

== Articles ==

Lot of articles tonight yall. Remember that every one of these shows you made an impact. It sucks cause a lot of them say "failed to find a home" which isn't true, we were robbed of one. But they still matter. The fact that they wrote anything at all shows we've been making waves. You still have power, as Chaos dad said. They didn't take that from you.

Our Flag Means Death Creator David Jenkins Confirms Show Has Reached the End of the Road

Our Flag Means Death Fails to Find New Home After Max Cancellation — Read Creator’s Statement

'End of the Road': Our Flag Means Death's Fate Confirmed by Creator

Our Flag Means Death Creator Addresses Chances of Series Return

‘Our Flag Means Death’ Creator Raises White Flag on Former Max Comedy

‘Our Flag Means Death’ Creator Says It’s “The End Of The Road” After Comedy Fails To Find New Home

Our Flag Means Death Is Officially Done After Not Finding New Streaming Home

Series creator: No new home found for canceled 'Our Flag Means Death'

Our Flag Means Death Creator Confirms The End Of Cancelled Max Show

Our Flag Means Death creator couldn’t find a new home for the series, which is now officially on its way to Davy Jones’s locker

Our Flag Means Death season 3 not happening, creator confirms

Our Flag Means Death creator “officially confirms” show cannot be saved

Our Flag Means Death Canceled After Two Successful Seasons

Our Flag Means Death officially over as the queer series fails to find a new home

El creador de ‘Our Flag Means Death’ dice que es «el final del camino» después de que la comedia no logró encontrar un nuevo hogar.

Our Flag Means Death creator says it's officially the 'end of the road' after show fails to find new home

OUR FLAG MEANS DEATH IS OFFICIALLY OVER, CREATOR CONFIRMS SEASON 3 FAILS TO FIND NEW HOME

Unfairly cancelled show fails to find new home: ‘It’s the end of the road’

Heartbreak in the High Seas: Our Flag Means Death Officially Sails Into the Sunset

== Love Notes ==

Hey lovelies.

I know some of you found out the news later than others, and it's still very raw for you. I'm sending so much love your way, I know you had less support than some of us when you found out and that's got to feel terribly lonely. I've talked to some folks who were fine yesterday, and not okay today, and vice versa. Just know we are here luvs, we are here, and we're happy to talk. We're all going to be grieving for a while. So please be kind to yourselves. Give yourself some grace, it's okay if you can't do much right now. It's okay if you don't finish that gif set, or that artwork, or that fic. It's okay if all you do is get by today. You are doing enough. It's okay if you need to have distractions so you're doing twice as much as you did before. Distraction can help a lot with nervous energy. Give yourself room to be creative, and to let your mind wander, it could use a break. Take some time to laugh if you can. Laughter really can be healing. I wish I had some advice for tonight. I wish I had some better words of encouragement, I know it's all very hard right now for everyone.

Please just know a few things, and you've heard them before, but I need to hear them once in a while so I'm going to say them to you.

You are loved.

You are worthy.

You are enough.

You are beautiful.

You are kind.

You are exactly the way you should be.

You are loved.

== Daily Darby / Tonight's Taika ==

Just som giggle from our two guys to hopefully bring a smile to your face.

Daily Darby Courtesy of @fandomsmeantheworldtome

Tonight's Taika Courtesy of @IBrokeCharacter on twitter.

[happy74827]

Pst! Might be a fun lil challenge if you ever want to work on something like this....

Mike Schmidt adopts a stray cat but it's from the cats point of view.

Okay this one got me LMFAO. I won’t necessarily call this a “oneshot,” but I had to write something with this iconic request. Thank you so much for this anon, it made my day.

『••✎••』

You were a small thing, grey and white, with long fur and eyes that were almost unnaturally large. You sat there quietly, watching the people in the shelter walk past and occasionally licking your paw and brushing it against your face. You were not like the other cats, who were loud and energetic and climbed on everything. You were reserved and seemed almost disinterested.

That is until your eye caught Mike.

Then you sat up and watched him, not making a noise but staring at him. And when Mike stared back, you looked away, and then you looked back, and the look of pure joy spread across your little face...

"She likes you," the girl said.

"Yeah, sure," he replied, looking at the girl, who was beaming. "I'm not taking her.”

He took you home that night.

Mike set down the cat bed, the toys, and the food and then stared at the cat carrier for a moment before opening it. He heard you sniffing and meowing, and then your face poked out, and you looked around curiously.

Soon, you were out of the cage, walking around his apartment. Abby had grown a fondness for you and was currently chasing you around the living room, trying to get you to play. She had already caught you several times and was just playing with you now.

Mike wasn’t special enough to get that treatment. You were an asshole, a menace, and a demon. You peed in his shoes, stole his food, and once bit his arm for no reason.

He hated you.

You were curled up on his chest, purring as he read the newspaper. He was ignoring you and trying to get his mind off the fact that you were on him when you decided that he was going to pay attention to you.

Your paw found his cheek, smacking it lightly.

"What?" he said, lowering the paper.

"Mraow," You said, only looking up at him for a moment.

"What?"

Your paw hit his face again. When he ignored you for the second time, you decided to go in with claws. You didn’t scratch his face, but his paper now had holes in it, and a few lines of ink were smudged.

"Hey! Bad cat!"

He moved to set you on the couch, but you didn’t let go. He ended up holding you as you screamed in his face, clawing at his shirt.

"You little asshole," he grumbled, setting you down and getting up. You followed him, crying loudly. He didn't have any intention of feeding you, but he wanted you to shut up.

"Meow meow!" you shouted.

"Yes, yes, I'm getting it," he said, filling your food bowl. "Now eat it."

You did not eat it. Instead, you looked up at him and cried louder.

"Oh, I'm sorry, do you want to starve? Because that can be arranged."

He went back to reading his paper, trying his hardest to ignore you.

It didn't work. You sat by his foot, screaming until he picked you up and put you on his lap. He was going to keep his hands busy by petting you, but that didn't work because as soon as he stopped, you would start screaming again.

He had no idea that cats were so demanding. But then again, he'd never owned a cat. He had no idea what to expect.

He wondered why he had ever adopted you.

He didn't have to wonder long.

As soon as he was done giving you attention, you got off him and sat down next to him. Mike looked down, and you looked up, and then you put your paw on his leg and started kneading his pants, making small noises.

You were so happy and content, and it was obvious.

"You are an asshole," he said. "But at least you're an adorable asshole."

You have a content little purr and laid down next to him. Sure, Abby might be the one who appreciated you more and the one who wanted to play, but Mike was the one you had chosen.

And you were never going to leave him. No matter how many times he seriously considered sending you back to the shelter,

You were never letting him go. And, despite what he says, he was never letting you go, either.

[hazelsmirrorball]

The Anonymous Red Velvet Cupcakes Baker

summary: Y/n loves red velvet cupcakes, so to win her heart someone anonymously tries to make her family’s secret recipe pairing: Theodore Nott x Fem! Reader warning: fluff, fluff and fluff. Also reminding you guys that english isn’t my main language so sorry for any mistake. a/n: Still going strong with this little valentine series. I hope all of you are up to date with the imagines and that you’re enjoying it as much as I enjoy writing it. I decided to mix two things that make a good match that I love, Theodore Nott and Red Velvet cupcakes. So I hope you guys enjoy this imagine. Lots of love.

Cupids Fourteen Love Stories Masterlist.

previous imagine. 

regular masterlist.

It was Valentines day week at Hogwarts, everyone was being extra touchy and lovey dovey with their partners, which Y/n despised. All her friends had someone to hang with and be all in love for valentines day leaving her alone to mourn her loneliness. It’s not that she willingly wanted to be alone, it was that her eyes were settled on someone specifically that wouldn’t even blink her way. But hope wasn’t lost completely she still had faith in getting someone for Valentines. But in the meantime she would just have to wait.

Y/n slowly looked up from her book, noticing in the table in front of her a small group of Slytherins, laughing their ass off at Merlins knows what. She quietly scanned the group quickly looking between the familiar faces but her eyes rested on the one person that could make her heart skip a beat,Theodore Nott. His face was covered with his usual soft glare look, very different from the other Slytherins beside him that had the faces adorned with a smile. There were a lot of ways Y/n could describe Theodore. He was different that’s for sure, he was dry when it came to talking he would speak the minimum or nothing at all, like he had million secrets to hide. He was quite handsome Y/n would even say he was the most handsomest guy in Slytherin. He was a brilliant student making himself the top of his class.  A bonus point was that Theodore was a  good quidditch player. But something drew Y/n toward Theodore and that was his coldness.  Theodre Nott was the opposite of Y/n and that’s what made him so interesting to her. She wanted to talk to him, break his walls, hell she could even try to make him smile for once.   Oh, what she would do to make him smile, Y/n being the cause of his smile would be the death of her. She could bet that his was the best smile in Hogwarts. But that was quite far from the reality she currently lived in.

She wasn’t friends with Theo, hell he didn’t even know of her existence. She wasn’t one to talk to other people besides her friend and adding to the fact that her big crush on him would make her run away just from a hi slipping out of his lips, she was doomed.And even if she had the courage to talk to him, theo rarely talk to his friends he wasn’t going to start talking out of the blue with her.  So Y/n only option was admiring from afar, something she had been doing since her eyes landed on the tall beauty,

She quickly stopped looking at the group focusing on the book she was previously reading while trying to catch up where she had left behind. But it was quite hard given the fact that she could only concentrate on two things Theodore Nott and her rumbling belly.

“Pst, Earth to Y/n” Her thoughts were quickly snapped by Hermione snapping her fingers in front of her face. She held a small box in her hand settling it in front of Y/n with a smile quickly sitting in front of her blocking her view of Theodore.

“What’s this?” Y/n asked while closing her book and looking at the box in front of her with a raised eyebrow.

“Someone left this next to my bag with a small note that said give to Y/n so I followed instructions.” Hermione said while shrugging her shoulders and taking the small paper and placing it beside the box.

“And you, Hermione Granger, didn’t ask any questions about it?” Y/n asked to inspect the box carefully.

“I tried. But this handwriting doesn’t seem familiar at all. Maybe it’s your mystery to solve” ]

“What’s there to solve? It’s probably Fred or George playing a stupid prank  on me.” While slowly pulling the nicely done ribbon adorning the box.

“I actually don’t think it’s a prank. We are near valentines day. Maybe you have someone that you like..” Hermione quickly gets cut off by Y/n.

“You think I have a secret admirer? Please Hermione, I think you’ve been spending so much time with Harry and Ron.” She muttered annoyed , stopping herself from opening the box.

“Y/n live a little. Someone took the time to give you something and you’re being a downer”

“Fine I’ll open it” Y/n mumbled while opening the small box. Her lips curved into a small smile noticing the cute and beautifully made cupcake inside. Y/n loved cupcakes, specifically Red velvet cupcakes. It was her  go to everything. If she was sad she ate a Red Velvet cupcake, angry red Velvet cupcake, happy  Red Velvet cupcake. Everything could be resolved with a Red Velvet cupcake. But in February it tasted so different, with more love. This was the perfect excuse to sneak as many  Red Velvet cupcakes as possible without anyone judging.Red Velvet Cupcakes were her thing. Y/n did miss the cupcakes from back home, the one’s at Hogwarts never tasted as good.  But seeing a nicely made cupcake made her remember her grandma's baking and the cupcakes she used to make for her. Whoever made this was succeeding to get on her good side.

…

The next day, Y/n decided to do some light reading to catch up on some work. She headed to the library and when she finally stumbled with her usual chair she stopped dead in her tracks. Her eyes trailed towards the small box similar to the day before, placed on the table where she used to sit this time with a small note.

to Y/n,

Here's a good homemade cupcake. I hope it sweetens your day. Heard you didn’t have the best time at charms today, hope this makes you feel better.

Several thoughts went through Y/n head, one of her friends had to be pranking her. But like Herminone had mentioned the handwriting wasn’t similar to anything she had seen before, it was unknown to her. Maybe they paid someone to write it down for them. She slowly opened the box to see a cupcake similar to the one before which she sadly couldn’t enjoy because Ron had devoured it.  She slowly pulled the cupcake to her lips while looking around to see if the person was close by since the cupcake was still warm.

She took a small bite and her eyes opened widely. THe cupcake tasted exactly like the one her grandma made when she was a kid. The Red Velvet was chewy with several chocolate chips and chunks filled in the middle with a cheesecake filling and topped with a wonderful cream cheese frosting.It was God sent on eart which made her quickly trow her head back out a pleasure while taking another big bite of the cupcake. But her happiness came to a stop when it came to her head the fact that no one besides her family knew about the cheesecake filling so she instantly knew that the cupcake wasn’t made by anyone close to her. But who would just leave a random cupcake for her? twice? That was something she was going to find out.

The girl slowly turned the paper that was previously written on and wrote down:

to the anonymous red velvet cupcake baker,

I'm suspicious about the fact that you know my grandma's recipe. But I wanted to say thank you for those cupcakes!! It was so lovely.

…

Two days left before Valentine's day and all she had was one letter and two eaten cupcakes but none to thank personally. Hermione and her tried deducing who could be a good baker but no one could guess that simple detail. It was driving her insane, she couldn’t think straight all day, all night, everything revolved around those cupcakes and that damn anonymous baker. Hell, she even asked her grandma if she had given anyone the family recipe, which she quickly responded offended with a no. So she decided to relax and followed her normal routine, ending her day as she always did, at the library. A smile grew on her face when she noticed another box where she usually sat at, again. She quickly walked up to it trying not to fall in the process. She quickly took the note in her hands and read it.

dear red velvet cupcakes enjoyer,

I see we’re on a code name basis. Here’s another cupcake to ease your nerves, just enjoy it. Maybe if you relax I’ll personally deliver a dozen to you. Made it with lots of love.

love,  anonymous red velvet cupcake baker.

Y/n looked around again trying to see if someone was near her but again she found herself with no one around her. She took another bite enjoying the sweet gooeyness. She quickly shook her head and took her pen out to leave them a little note.

dear anonymous red velvet cupcake baker,

I see you added peppermint, makes me assume you like mint chocolate ice cream which scares me a lot. Better luck next time.

love, red velvet cupcake enjoyer.

…

Valentine's Day finally came and by the look of it more people had coupled up, even more than before making Y/n more annoyed than ever. All she wanted to do was eat her cupcakes. She counted the hours wanting to see what the mystery person left. So far Y/n had a horrible day but her smile didn’t fall not even once waiting and wishing to try the red velvet sweetness. So in her free period she quickly ran towards the library pushing through the people in front of her. Her smile slowly dropped, noticing the empty table in front of her. She sighed while sitting down on her usual chair this time with a different energy. She pulled out her book and attempted to study. Lost in her books she lost track of time noticing she was late to her charms class. She quickly ran the halls trying to get to her lecture as quickly as possible. When she finally passed the door and excused herself with her professor she almost walked back out when her eyes stumbled upon the empty chair next to Theodore Nott. She quickly walked towards the chair sitting quietly trying to catch on the notes that were previously given. It was no surprise that she was failing the class and she least needed to be late. But what surprised her even more was Theodrore Nott’s notes slipping across the table so she could copy them off from.

“Thanks” quickly mumbled while messily writing her notes which Theodore simply nodded while looking towards the professor.

When the class finally ended and the class started to leave the classroom. Y/n picked up her bag ready to leave but she quickly stopped dead in her tracks when she heard those four letters slipped out of those lips.

“Here”

She quickly looked up towards him, her mouth opening like a fish under water. She quickly noticed the small smile plaster on his face. She tried to understand what was happening. She opened her mouth but words didn’t seem to come out of her lips. She could feel her face turn hot and she couldn’t look him straight in the eyes. All she did was look down at the box in his left hand and the bouquet of flowers in his right. She had no idea how he even hid that so well

“Excuse me?” she tried to get out. It was barely understandable, he had to lean over to hear her right.

“I thought you read the letters I wrote? I said I was going to give them personally to you” he said while directing the box and roses towards you.

“Wait, you were the one making the cupcakes?” She asked, starting to think it was all a prank. What was happening. c

“Yes! Why are you so surprised? Didn’t expect me to be good at baking?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. It was the first time  she had heard him speak that much.

“I just didn’t expect Theodore Nott to anonymously leave me Red Velvet cupcakes in an attempt to show me he knows my “secret” recipe.” She said while taking the box and flowers in her hands.

“Go ahead, try it!” He said patiently, waiting for her reaction to the cupcakes. She quickly took a cupcake out of the box and slowly brought up a cupcake towards her lips taking a bite while closing her eyes softly.

“Well, you excelled your duties as a baker. It tastes amazing” She responded with a smile. Theodore slowly leaned towards her making her nervously stop dead in her tracks. He passed her thumb against her lips, cleaning the excessive amount of frosting. He quickly pulled his towards his own lips tasting it.

“Took my chances. So, Y/n’s secret recipe is cheesecake filling.”

“Shh, don’t say it too loudly, you’ll ruin the family recipe.” She responded playfully with a smile.

“Sorry, Sorry but you should tell that to Hermione” He said acting confused

“I don’t understand,” Y/n asked, scrunching up her nose.

“She was the one that gave me your grandmas address to owl her for the recipe”

“Wait, you asked my grandma for her recipe? That traitor she told me she had no idea about anyone else knowing about that recipe ”

“Well now we have to keep it in our family” Theodore said winking at her

“Slow down Theo. Take me out to dinner first then I’ll decide if I’ll marry you” She said sarcastically.

“Bold” he laughed

“But seriously,  why were you doing all of this in the first place?” She asked, confused.

“You make this cute little face when you bite the cupcakes. I wanted to be the one that made you do that adorable face.”

[whatsnewalycat]

Psychomanteum / Chapter 14

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x OFC Louella (2nd POV)

Chapter 14: Wish You Were Here

Chapter Summary: Dieter takes action.

Word Count: 9.9k+

Content / Warnings: dieter pov, implications of suicidal thoughts, swearing, alcohol use, airplane, uncertainty, parker/jackie, infidelity (not our heroes), thoughts of cocaine use/relapse, opera, fame, very vague understanding of the criminal justice system excuse that pls, bribery, lotta fucking dialogue, lotta yearning and self-reflection, angst, our boy is a big sappy mess and we love him for it

Notes: Chapter title from “Wish You Were Here” by Pink Floyd. First and foremost, everything is gonna be ok, ok? I promise. Also, good news for people who like this story—since we’re nearing the end, I’m going to make it my primary writing focus for a while. Will be posting to AO3 later bc I can’t from mobile it’s a nightmare.

[ Previous Chapter ] [ Series Masterlist ] [ Next Chapter ]

— Dieter senses your absence before he even opens his eyes. 

Oftentimes you wake before him, still weaning off your internal alarm of 5:30AM EST (not-a-fucking-chance o’clock PST). When this happens, you brew some coffee and drink your morning cup in bed, passing the time by reading, or fucking around on your phone, or writing in your journal. 

Most of the time he opens his eyes and finds you deeply engrossed in one of these activities. Sometimes you’re cuddled up into his side, silently tracing patterns onto his skin. Even when you’re not in the same room when he wakes, he can still feel you, your life force brushing up against his. 

But this morning is different. 

Dieter winces at the morning light and sits up, rubbing his face before looking around the room. He clears his throat, then calls out your name. 

It echoes back to him. 

The silence that follows is eerie and distinct, its vacuousness an exclamation point that hurts his ears. 

How can nothing be so loud? 

Swinging his feet over the side of the bed,  he goes to grab his phone off the nightstand and instead finds a note with his name on it. He sits there staring at it for a minute, rubbing the layered notebook paper between his fingertips. 

The gears in his brain start to turn. 

He looks at the armchair where your suitcase has been sitting the week and a half. It’s gone. 

Understanding twists his guts bowtie. 

Denying the cardstock confrontation, Dieter puts on a robe and searches the house. 

He finds nothing. 

Each empty room accumulates buzzing and hot beneath his skin. 

He goes outside. 

The patio, the garage, the driveway, the street. 

Calling your name like a kid who lost his mom in a department store, panic building with every utterance, a desperate crescendo. 

By the time he returns to the origin point, his thoughts are stumbling over one another trying to explain what the fuck could be possibly be happening, because this can’t be real. 

It’s a joke, it’s a terrible joke that you’ll laugh about later—or, no, there was an emergency and you had to go—but wouldn’t you wake him? Wouldn’t you tell him? Maybe you went to the store and you’ll be right back. But why would you bring your suitcase? 

He snatches the paper off his nightstand and unfolds it.

—

Dee,

I need you to know this isn’t your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong. I love you as much as humanly possible, and then some. Please understand that I couldn’t make you choose. That burden shouldn’t rest on you. 

I’m sorry for ruining everything. I’m sorry for leaving like this. I’m sorry for not giving you a choice. 

I love you with everything I am. 

Until the next life, 

Lua 

PS: I stole some cash from your wallet. I’m sorry for that, too. 

—

The words don’t compute at first. 

He shakes his head and reads it again. 

And again. 

And again. 

A thousand-pound weight drops his stomach to the floor. Adrenaline pumps through his heart and turns his limbs gelatin. Blood whooshes behind his ears, and—God, he’s going to be fucking sick. 

The note wavers in his grip and the text starts to blur.

This isn’t right. 

This can’t be happening. 

He needs to talk to you right fucking now. 

Overcome with this sudden rush of panic, Dieter grabs his phone off the nightstand, ignoring the barrage of notifications littering the screen, and calls you. 

The line trills, and further away, he hears “I’ll Be Your Mirror” by The Velvet Underground and Nico play. 

He follows the noise into the kitchen, where your phone buzzes on the countertop, displaying your contact photo for him. The one where you’re both mid-laugh with red lipstick and black face paint smudged all around your faces. 

Your voicemail picks up.

“Hey, this is Louella, sorry I missed you. Leave me a message and I’ll call you back, thanks.” 

A tone signals the start of recording. Dieter clears his throat, then says, “Hey, doll. It’s me. This is probably stupid because your phone is here, but I don’t know,” he pauses to gather himself as everything around him becomes blurred by tears. When he speaks again, his voice is somehow gummy and ragged at the same time, “I don’t know what to do. You’re gone, and there’s this note and… Fuck, whatever it is, we can figure it out. Please, Louella—Lua, baby, I love you. If you hear this somehow, please call me.” 

When he hangs up, all he can do is stand there, staring at her phone. 

The air particles around him throb with this deep, dense sorrow that cracks him wide open and hollows him out. It’s heavy. Infinite. All-consuming, like loss on loss on loss on loss. 

He knows, like he just knows things, that this is what you were feeling before you left. He knows you left your phone so nobody could find you. 

Beyond that, though… It's a brick wall. He tries, although he doesn’t really understand what the fuck he’s doing, to send out some kind of a psychic ping. Sometimes he can get a sense of you this way. 

This time he gets nothing. 

He can’t hone in on anything, can’t even feel the rough edges of your life force. The string that connects your tin cans has been severed.

What the fuck does that mean? 

The not-knowing makes him anxious. His imagination starts wander deeper into the dark forest, showing him taxis and mirrors and riverbeds and— 

Your phone jumps to life. 

It starts ringing to the tune of “Take Your Mama” by Scissor Sisters, lighting up with a photo of you and Parker. 

He scrambles to grab it and answers, “Parker—”

“Dieter?”

“Is she with you? Do you know where she is?” 

“What do you mean? Isn’t she with you?” 

“No, I just woke up and she’s fucking gone and there’s this note,” he sighs and throws his hand out at his side, “I don’t know. I don’t know.”

“A note, what does the note say?”

“Hang on, let me,” he tucks the phone between his ear and shoulder, rummaging through the pockets of his robe, “Here we go, ok…” 

He reads it to Parker, who remains silent for a long while afterwards. 

“Until the next life?”

The tips of his ears heat up, and he runs a hand through his hair, “Yeah.”

“Have you talked to anyone else this morning?”

“No, I just woke up,” he starts pacing the length of his kitchen island, explaining, “Last night we were talking about moving in together, having her come out here, and… I don’t know, did I fucking scare her off or something? She seemed into it, but maybe I’m wrong, maybe I was going too fast—”

“Whoa whoa whoa, ok, slow down, papi,” Parker interjects, “It’s not like that. Her apartment was raided this morning.” 

Dieter frowns, “Wait, what?” 

“Yeah, some fucking journalist went poking around, talking to her neighbors and shit, digging into stuff about Ethan, their business, all that. He brought it all to the cops and demanded they do something about it, so they got a search warrant.” 

Dieter stays quiet as his mind whirrs, trying to comprehend this information. 

Parker continues. 

“I went over there this morning, just to check in on the place, and it was fucking crawling with cops. I FaceTimed Lou and told her, then she hung up and I haven’t been able to reach her since. Figured she was talking to you, but…”

Poisoned words cycle through his head, begging to be released, but he traps them behind clamped lips. 

“I called Reese to see if he knew anything, since he bumps elbows with a lotta those criminal justice guys, you know?”

“Reese?” Dieter furrows his brow, “Married guy? I thought you were done with him.” 

“Yeah, well,” a sigh crackles in his ear, then Parker says, “Good thing I’m not. Turns out, he’s friends with the DA. He told Reese about the journalist shit, said they have a warrant out for Lou. Wanted on possession with intent to distribute and drug trafficking for the pot stuff, oh—and possession of cocaine, because apparently they found one of Ethan’s hiding spots.” 

“Fuck.” 

“I know.”

Hundreds of thoughts ricochet around his head screaming for attention. The whole goddamn dashboard is lit up and blaring WARNING WARNING WARNING—

The nausea returns. Dieter plucks a half-smoked joint from the ashtray on his countertop and lights it, then turns and slides down the cabinet onto the kitchen floor. 

He takes a few hits, waiting until the overwhelm dims a bit before whispering, “Fuck, Parker, this is bad.” 

“I know, baby, I know.” 

The skunky smoke burns his lungs as he inhales again, holding holding holding, then lets it go. 

Things start to slow down enough for him to backtrack, “Did you say a journalist?” 

“Yeah, Reese couldn’t get a name, but there was this guy outside the building this morning who was—oh, fuck.” 

“What oh fuck?” Dieter wrinkles his nose at the roach and takes one more drag before stubbing it out on the shiny hardwood floor. 

“It was that point dexter motherfucker that did your interview. That was the guy! And I was on a video call with Lou—”

Parker cuts himself off with a gasp.

I couldn’t make you choose.

“Oh fuck,” Dieter breathes, “I gotta call you back.” 

He hangs up and trades your phone for his own, rejecting an incoming call from Darlene. 

It takes him three seconds to find it. 

Dieter Bravo Girlfriend Wanted On Drug Trafficking Charges, Claims In Email to DIRT: “He Was In The Dark” 

The header presented at the top of the article is your mugshot from your previous arrest. Your eyes appear puffy and dull and hopeless. Below it, the article continues: 

Dieter Bravo’s newest girlfriend reportedly has a warrant out for her arrest in relation to drug trafficking charges. 

Early this morning, the NYPD hit Louella Friedman’s Downtown Brooklyn apartment with a search warrant. Friedman was not present at the time the warrant was executed, so no arrests have been made, but law enforcement sources tell us that she is now wanted by the state of New York on multiple drug charges. 

This is not Friedman's first run-in with the law. Just days ago, she appeared alongside Dieter Bravo for an exclusive interview with DIRT, in which she admitted to being convicted of felony drug trafficking in 2018. She stated during this interview that she has “changed a lot since then … we don’t want people to think we’re trying to hide any of this, because we’re not. We’re just trying to move forward together.”

The email we received from Friedman this morning paints a different picture: 

“As you probably know, my apartment is being raided. I need one thing to be clear: Dieter is not complicit. He didn’t know about and did not take part in my illegal activity. He was in the dark. My mistakes are my own, and I ask that the blame be placed appropriately.” 

It’s assumed that Friedman is still in the LA-area, as she and Bravo have been spotted out and about a few times this week. Before that, the pair were seen in New York, which leads us to wonder how much time the Academy Award winner actually spent in her apartment. 

Bravo himself has a notoriously checkered past with drugs, and although his antics have been subdued since the “publicity stunt” for the movie Limbo (premiering next May), it wouldn’t be considered out of character for him to become knowingly involved with a drug dealer. 

DIRT will continue reporting as this story unfolds. 

—

The first person Dieter calls is Lincoln, who answers on the second ring with a cheerful, “Good morning, Dieter!” 

“Lincoln, where the fuck are you?”

“I’m grabbing breakfast from that pla—”

“Change of plans,” Dieter leafs through the clothes hanging in his closet, “Get over here now.”

“What about—”

“Listen, I need you to get me the next flight to New York. And, uhh,” he rips a few shirts off their hangers and tosses them into the open suitcase on the floor, “Clear your schedule for at least two days. I need you to housesit.”

“Is everything alright?”

Dieter ponders the question for just a moment, long enough for a sharp ache to pierce through his chest, then says, “Hurry the fuck up, ok?”

He hangs up. 

The second person he calls is his lawyer. 

When he tells the guy about your situation, he says, “Well, it sounds like there’s enough room for deniability, I don’t think they’ll bring charges against you—”

“Yeah, no shit,” Dieter scoffs, “What about her, how could she get out of this?” 

“With all due respect, Dieter, you’re my client, not her.” 

“Come on, man. What if, you know, I was in her situation?”

On the other line, the lawyer sucks his teeth, then says, “Well, theoretically speaking, you would be looking to either turn yourself in or see if you could get the charges dropped.”

“How would one get the charges dropped?” 

“The District Attorney would need to drop them.” 

“Uh-huh,” Dieter nods and rubs his lips, then queries, “And if—you know, like you said, theoretically—if he were to be convinced to drop the charges—”

“See, that is a tight line to walk, and one must tread very carefully, you understand? Many methods people attempt to use in persuading district attorneys, for example, bribery or blackmail, get sticky quick. They offer the wrong amount of money, or don’t get enough dirt, or what have you, then they’re in a world of hurt.” 

“Well, sure. Those people don’t use their head. But if someone wanted to just… sit down and talk to him, would that automatically raise a red flag?” 

“Depends. If someone of similar notoriety as you reached out to him to set up a meeting, it might raise a red flag. But if they happened to run into each other… probably not as much.” 

“I see.” 

The front door swings open and he looks up, expecting to see Lincoln, but instead locks eyes with Darlene. She’s holding a phone to her ear and says, “Yeah, he’s here.” 

“I gotta go,” he says, then hangs up the phone and greets Darlene, “Hey.”

Her heels click-clack on the floor as she strides over, taps on the screen of her phone, and says, “Ok, Mark, you’re on speaker. Dieter’s here.”

Darlene sets the phone down on the counter and starts rummaging through the leather bag hanging off her shoulder. The phone speaks: 

“Dieter, we need to talk. Is Louella there?”

“No.” 

“Is she going back to New York?”

Not sure how to answer the question, Dieter rolls his eyes, “Is that what this is about?”

“Yeah, look, this isn’t good. I’ll cut to the chase. If you endorse her claim and cut ties, we can keep you on, but if you don’t, we gotta let you go, bud.” 

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Darlene answers this time, “We’re serious, Dieter. The optics are terrible—”

“The fucking optics, un-fucking-believable,” he mutters, pushing off the counter to pace the kitchen. 

“Is it really unbelievable?” Darlene blinks, her scathing gaze steady on his, “Coke head dating a felon who’s wanted on drug charges? You don’t see how studios will react to that?”

He doesn’t answer. She continues. 

“If you release a statement corroborating her story, explaining how you didn’t know, and things are over between you—”

A groan of agony rises in his throat. 

“—it will work. She gave you an out, Dieter. Take it.” 

His nostrils flare. Heat rises to his face and he hisses, “You never liked her, did you?”

Darlene scoffs, “What?”

“Did you even give her a chance, or did you just write her off the second you met her? That shit weasel from DIRT is the one that set all these fucking dominos up, did you know that?”

“No, of course not—”

“Dieter,” Mark sighs, “This isn’t personal. Look at the facts. You’ve done three stints in rehab just within the past decade. Beasts of the Bubble depicted you as a drug addict—Christ, you overdosed in that hotel. You just got divorced, had a ton of bad press from that. Now you’re in this very new, very serious relationship with a widowed felon. And, what, a week after swearing she’s a law-abiding citizen, cops find enough shit in her apartment to issue a warrant for her arrest? Do you know how that makes you look? Does it sound like you’re a person anyone could trust to sign onto a project?”

Dieter presses his palms against the kitchen counter and leans over the phone, “It sounds like you’ve already made a choice, Mark. You wanna drop me as a client, just fucking do it.” 

“If you make a public statement saying you were shocked to find out that she took advantage of your vulnerable state, you’re not using, blah blah blah, this could go away relatively quickly. Most likely she’d be painted as a con woman or gold digger or something along those lines, which makes you the victim. Granted, that makes you look a bit like a sucker, but we can live with that.” 

The nausea returns. 

“I can’t,” Dieter shakes his head, “I’m sorry, but I can’t live with that. Saying that she tried to steal my money—god, not a fucking chance in hell—”

“Of course, you wouldn’t say that,” Darlene cuts in, “People might infer that, is all Mark means. You know how this works—”

“Yes, I do know how it works. And no, I can’t. I won’t. It’s all fucking bullshit, the whole thing. Darlene, you’re bullshit,” he directs his voice to the phone, “Mark, you’re fucking bullshit. Fucking… optics and public opinion and the two of you trying to stage direct my fucking life—my life. Mine. I am my own person. And I love her. I’m going to find her, and fix this, and spend the rest of my fucking life with her even if it doesn’t make sense to anyone else but us.” 

Darlene holds up her hand, “Dieter, you’re making a mistake—”

He laughs. 

It booms, dry and humorless, through the house.

She jumps in surprise at the noise, then looks at him like he’s fucking crazy. Which is fair. He sounds fucking crazy. 

But for once, he feels completely sane. 

His spine straightens flag pole and he shakes his head, “Trust me, Darlene. I’m not.” 

They sit there, staring at each other in a silent standoff. Her hazel eyes flick around his face, then drop to the phone.

“Mark, I’ll call you back.”

Darlene ends the call before Mark can respond and stomps around the dining room table to a solid oak credenza, popping the top off one of the decanters of booze. 

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“I need a drink.”

“It’s 10am.” 

Whiskey sloshes into the crystal tumbler. Darlene glances over her shoulder at him, holding up the bottle in question. He sighs, which she interprets correctly as a yes, and pours a second glass. 

Dieter murmurs a thanks when she returns and hands it to him. He takes a big swallow of the liquor. Leaning back on the counter beside him, she does the same. 

“How’s she doing?” 

His stomach twists. 

He takes another swig and shrugs, then digs the note from his robe pocket and gives it to her. 

She reads it, then passes it back and empties her whiskey down her throat. 

“Fuck.”

“My thoughts exactly,” he mutters into the tumbler as he drinks the remaining booze in one large, burning gulp. 

“So you don’t know where she is?”

Dieter pinches his eyes closed, tilting his head up at the ceiling, and shakes his head, “She was gone when I woke up. Took her suitcase. Left her phone, funny enough.” 

After a brief silence, she tells him, “I didn’t know David was looking into her. Even if I did, I would never try to get her in trouble. You know that, right?” 

He shrugs. His shoulders weigh a million pounds. 

“Look,” she sighs, “Maybe I don’t see whatever it is you see in her, but I do see that you love each other.” 

“Yeah.”

“Do you think she’s turning herself in?”

He furrows his brow and looks down at the floor, shaking his head, “No.” 

Dieter breathes it in, that palpable emotion still clinging to the air. He sinks into the dense, dark feeling—blackest ink in the world—letting it carry him downstream. There’s a glimmer of something. A spark of you. 

He speaks it out loud. 

“She’s in the fucking woods now.” 

“In the woods? Dieter, what the fuck are you talking about?”

“I don’t know,” he mumbles, scrubbing his face with his hands, “I don’t fucking know. I’m scared, you know, with the note…”

He doesn’t want to say it. If he doesn’t speak it into existence, maybe it won’t be true, that you’re looking for a place to die. Like how dogs do when they’re ready, crawling off into isolation to protect their loved ones. 

Darlene stays quiet. 

He swallows hard and starts pacing the kitchen floor again, running his fingers through his hair, “If I can get the DA to drop the charges, maybe it won’t be too late. Maybe I can fix this. But I have to find her, too.“ A hot rush of frustration overtakes him. He slams his fist down on the countertop with a thud and barks, “FUCK!”

“Ok,” Darlene turns to face him, placing a hand on his arm, “It’s gonna be ok—”

“But what if it’s not?” 

Emotion clouds his vocal cords and vision, warping both into a wet, smeary mess as he says, “What if she fucking—fuck, Darlene, what if she goes through with this? I can’t do this without her. I won’t.” 

“We don’t know that this is a suicide note—”

His whole body twists up into a snarl, a guttural moan rising from his throat as the idea shreds him to bits. He shakes his head in protest, because he does, he knows that’s what this is, but he can’t fucking bear to speak its name. 

Darlene watches him unravel for a moment before taking the crystal tumblers back to the credenza for a refill. When she returns, she holds one out to him and asks, “We need a plan to track her down. Have any ideas?” 

He rolls his head on his shoulders to look at her, glancing down at the cup, “We?”

She nudges him again, so he takes it and sips while she grimaces, “If I didn’t raise hell about the interview and get David in trouble… who knows, maybe we wouldn’t be here. I doubt he was looking to write an exposé on her before that.” 

“Maybe. Maybe not,” he shrugs, “Doesn’t matter now.” 

“Still, I’m… sorry,” she stares down at her glass and swirls the amber liquid around a bit while telling him, “The contract, too. I’m sorry about that. Like Mark said, it’s not personal. It’s business.”

“I know.” 

“You’re sure, though? That you don’t want to corroborate her story?” 

“Yes, I’m sure I don’t want to throw the love of my life under the fucking bus, Darlene.” 

She holds up a hand in defense, “Ok—”

“Even if that’s what she wanted me to do, no fucking way. She’s a good fucking person and I won’t sit here and agree with people saying she’s some fucking lowlife, because she’s not—”

“Ok ok ok—Dieter, I understand. I was just making sure.” 

He huffs and takes a drink. 

An uncomfortable silence settles over them. The booze starts to course heat through Dieter’s veins, sedating his agitation, making his head swim. 

“If you’re not my publicist anymore, why the fuck are you still here?”

“Because I’m still your friend.” 

He looks over at her, meeting her hazel eyes, and senses sincerity. 

His jaw works back and forth. He takes another drink, then tells her, “I’m going to New York to meet with the DA. Lincoln should be here any minute, he’ll stay here in case she comes back while I’m gone. I’m gonna have him try to track her whereabouts, see if she left any breadcrumbs—”

“You have a meeting with the DA?” 

“Not… necessarily.” 

“Then, what—” she pinches the bridge of her nose, “I don’t wanna know, do I?” 

“Doubt it.” 

“Right,” she sighs, shakes her head, then starts pacing, “Well, if Lincoln is here, he can call around to places, but I’m assuming you don’t want him to leave the house? In case she comes back?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll help follow up. Call around, and if needed, go to the places she might be. See if I can’t track her down.” 

Hope swells in his chest. His posture softens, and he nods, “Thank you.” 

She waves him off, “You said she left her phone, right?” 

“Yeah, uhh,” he pulls it from his robe pocket and stares at the lock screen, “I felt, I dunno, weird… about going through it. So I haven’t yet.” 

Darlene holds out her manicured hand, so he gives it to her. 

“Zero two one four eight eight.” 

She types in the passcode and starts tapping around as she paces, sipping her whiskey every now and then. 

Meanwhile, Dieter finishes his drink and stares at the empty glass, wavering back and forth on whether or not to pour another. A hungry buzzing works through the tendons in his neck. There’s an old, familiar voice at the back of his head, urging him for more more more, begging, pleading for sedation, anything to make these big feelings less so. 

Booze would be great, but you have the morphine, too, or the coke, fuck—now would be the perfect time for coke. It would straighten out your thoughts. Sharpen you. It could help you, Dieter, really. Help you clear your head and get to the bottom of this fucking mess, it could be the thing that saves her—

“She made an outbound call this morning,” Darlene murmurs as she punches the number into her phone, then raises it to her ear. 

Dieter hears the faint voice from the speaker answer, “Hollywood Checker Cabs, how can I help you?” 

She snaps her fingers at Dieter and pantomimes writing. He scrambles around the kitchen trying to find paper and a writing utensil while she asks, “Hi, my friend ordered a cab early this morning and I’m trying to track where she might’ve been dropped off, can you help me with that?” 

Dieter finds a notebook on the counter. He pulls the pen from its spine and writes down your phone number and full name, then slides it over the island counter to Darlene, who nods and reads your phone number, then says, “Yeah, she called at 5:32, the pickup is—yep, that’s it, that’s her.” 

She grabs the pen and starts scribing. Every few seconds she murmurs an uh-huh or ok. 

Behind her, the door to the garage swings open and in comes Lincoln, carrying a brown paper bag and a backpack. 

Concern creases his forehead as he approaches, and drops the paper bag on the counter, whispering to Dieter, “What’s going on?”

“Shh.”

Darlene glances up at them, then back at the notebook, and nods, “That’s incredibly helpful, thank you. Appreciate it.” 

When she hangs up, she says, “The driver dropped her off at Union Station around 6:30 this morning,” then continues typing in her phone, “From there, she could’ve taken another taxi, or a bus, or a train—”

“She took a bus.”

Lincoln asks, “Who took a bus? Lua?” 

They both ignore the question. Darlene blinks up at Dieter, and before she can question him, he shrugs, “Gut feeling.” 

“Gut feeling,” she snorts, shaking her head, and tosses her phone in her bag with a sigh, “Well, I’ll drive over there and see if she’s still there. When does your flight leave?”

Dieter looks at Lincoln, who perks up and pulls out his phone, “Let’s see… A car will be here in… fifteen.” 

“I’ll call you when I know more, ok?” Darlene says as she pulls her purse up onto her shoulder. She regards Dieter for a second or two before patting him on the shoulder, “We’re gonna find her.” 

He doesn’t trust himself to verbalize the uncertainty churning in his guts, so he acknowledges the sentiment with a flaccid smile and a nod, thinking, “I fucking hope so.”

—

“Hey, this is Louella, sorry I missed you. Leave me a message and I’ll call you back, thanks.” 

“Hey, love. I’m, uhh… leaving you an update, I guess. I’m going to New York to sort this shit out, talk to some people, see what I can do. But if you get this somehow, please, baby… please come home. Ok. I love you, bye.” 

—

Suspended miles above the Midwest, with Dieter packed in a tin can alongside all the other mouth-breathing sardines, the in-flight WiFi goes out.

He tries watching a movie, but none of the information computes. His mind keeps wandering to you. What you’re doing, where you are, why you didn’t just fucking wake him up and talk to him. 

Seconds twist under his skin. 

The minutes lodge inside his throat. 

The tiny screen could be showing him fucking anything, and his demeanor wouldn’t change a drop. 

Tight-lipped. Hostile. Dead-eyed. 

That’s what he gleans, anyway, from the way people react to his presence. The downcast glances and wide berths. How the flight attendant doesn’t even try to protest when he requests four mini-bottles of vodka. 

Wincing with every swallow, Dieter drinks them and scrolls through his text history with you. It’s not uncommon for him to do this while idly passing the time alone, within the past few months especially. 

Re-reading each conversation, admiring the photos and screenshots, allowing himself to daydream about you… usually, he finds it comforting. 

This time it’s different. 

It’s steeped in the knowledge that he may never receive another message from you. 

Flipping his phone face down on the little shitty tray, he looks up at the Q*bert air vent and releases a big sigh. The thoughts of you creep back into his brain. He doesn’t shoo them away, though. It’s fucking pointless. 

Please understand that I couldn’t make you choose. That burden shouldn’t rest on you. 

A burden. 

What a load of shit. 

As if he wouldn’t let hellfire lick his bones to dust for one more earthly second with you. As if you don’t revive him every single time your lips meet his. As if he could breathe without you in the atmosphere. 

Of fucking course he would choose you. 

Over anything, really. Especially acting. Fuck, maybe that’s exactly what he needs. It’s all just stupid Hollywood bullshit anyway. Being owned by a dozen different people at any point in time. Everyone trying to get their finger in the goddamn pie. He’s tired of being a billboard first and a human second. 

The more he thinks about it, the madder he gets. He douses his stomach with vodka, thinking about the fame machine, how it chewed you up and spit you out in no time at all. 

He resents the public spotlight. His whole adolescence, he dreamed of having a successful career as an actor. He worked hard and got lucky and his dreams came to life, and now, well… he’s right back where he started. 

Watching, helpless and terrified, as the person he loves gets pummeled half to death. 

—

Dieter leans on the doorframe and gives apartment 14C three firm knocks. 

The blaring music inside cuts. Parker stomps up to the other side of the door, “Who is it?” 

“Fucking Santa Claus, who do you think?” 

A thunk sounds from the deadbolt, then Parker swings the door open, propping a hand on his hip and shaking his head, “Santa Claus? Really?”

His face is fully dragged up in the style of Jackie Lantern, with blue eyeshadow and hot pink lips and harsh contour, while the rest of him is Regular Parker, with sweatpants and a baggy Bikini Kill t-shirt. 

“Ho ho ho,” Dieter enters the cozy, dimly lit apartment and pulls him into a one-armed hug, “Good to see you.”

“Good to see you, too,” Parker mumbles as he wraps his lanky arms around Dieter and squeezes, “Wish it was under better circumstances.” 

“Me too, bud,” Dieter takes a step back and ventures into what looks like a new-age opium den. 

Incense and pot smoke cloud the air. A loom-woven tapestry, depicting a unicorn standing triumphant in a field of wildflowers, takes up almost the entire wall behind a well-worn sofa. On the opposite wall, at least 50 framed bug specimens hang on display. 

Between the deep-seated couch and the TV sits a big octagonal coffee table, its glass top all littered with books and water bottles and cannabis paraphernalia. 

Dieter, finding none of this surprising, looks around and nods, “Nice place.“

Parker bolts the door closed and turns to scan Dieter up and down, “Nice suit.”

“I hate this fucking thing,” he mutters, rolling his shoulders in a feeble attempt to make more room inside the jacket, then points to Parker’s sweatpants, “Is that what you’re wearing?”

“Shade,” Parker scoffs and starts off down the short hallway into his bedroom, “I’ll be ready in a minute, help yourself to whatever.”

“Where do you keep your liquor?”

“On top of the fridge.” 

Dieter wanders into the kitchen and grabs a bottle of whiskey from its home, then starts flipping through cabinets. When he finds the one with cups, he calls out to Parker, “Want a drink?” 

“Lord, please.”

He unscrews the cap and pours two generous servings. Before returning the bottle, he takes a pull off it. The cheap booze burns the whole way down, settling like fire in his belly. 

Parker comes stomping back into the room, clawing at the back of his blue sequin gown, “Do me a favor, love, help me zip this?”

Dieter signals for him to spin around, then guides the zipper up his bony back as Parker asks, “Any updates from your neck of the woods?”

He taps on his shoulder, giving him the all clear. 

Parker turns and leans back against the galley kitchen’s countertop opposite Dieter, who hands him a drink. 

“Yeah,” Dieter nods, takes a sip of the shitty whiskey, then explains, “Darlene was able to convince the security team at Union Station to let her review footage from this morning. At 6:30 this morning, Lua boarded a Greyhound bus that dropped her off in Fresno around 11:00. Darlene couldn’t get much over the phone from them, so she’s driving up there to raise hell, see what she can find out.” 

The words come out dull and matter-of-fact. Offline, disconnected from the treasure chest labeled LUA. 

Parker studies him, “How’re you holding up, papi, you doing ok?” 

“No.” 

He stares down into his cup and thinks he should probably say something else, but comes up with nothing. It feels both pointless and too painful. 

“Wanna talk about it?” 

“No.” 

When he glances up at Parker, and their eyes meet, he recognizes the melancholy there. His own, reflected back at him. 

He shifts a little and adds, “After we get this part over with, though, maybe we can… I don’t know, get hammered, cry about it. Drown our sorrows or whatever. If you want.” 

The corner of Parker’s hot pink lips turns up in a smirk and he chuckles, “Long as we don’t get arrested doing this stupid ass shit, I will take you up on that.” 

“We’re not gonna get arrested, I promise. He’ll take the offer.”

“And how do you know that?”

Dieter could make a reference to The Godfather here, or mention the thick wads of cash lining his Armani suit, but thinks better of it. Probably best he doesn’t know. 

Instead, he asks, “Do you trust me?” 

“You know we wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.” 

“Then trust me, we’re gonna be fine. Just follow the plan.” 

Parker snorts and shakes his head, muttering something about ‘you cryptic ass motherfucker’ into his glass as he takes a sip. 

Dieter drinks, too, then tells him, “I like your dress.” 

“Thanks,” he smiles, eyes flicking to the clock on the stove, “Fuck, I gotta finish getting ready or we’re gonna be late.” 

“Can I pick out your hair?” 

Parker groans a little, feigning annoyance. He pushes off the counter and starts towards his room, “Fine, but I reserve the right to veto.” 

—

“Hey, this is Louella, sorry I missed you. Leave me a message and I’ll call you back, thanks.” 

“Hey, doll, it’s me. I’m uhh… in New York, at Parker’s place—”

“Who are you talking to?”

“I’m leaving her a message.”

“Give it, I wanna say something.”

“Just hold on—”

“Hey Miss Lou, I love you, I miss you, and let me tell you, your boy is a goddamn mess. And, um… so am I. I’m worried about you—we’re worried about you. Just… let us know you’re ok, ok?”

“Me again. We’re gonna go fix this. I love you, Louella. Please come home.” 

—

Instead of conversing en route to the Metropolitan Opera House, they pass a flask of whiskey back and forth and occasionally sing along to the music on Jackie Lantern’s “PUSSY POWER” playlist. 

Although neither of them mention it, Dieter knows they’re essentially doing the same thing. Hyping themselves up. Trying to ban the performance anxiety from their brains as they get into character. 

By the time he and Parker arrive at Metropolitan Opera House, the booze has fully assimilated into Dieter’s bloodstream. 

Thank fucking god. 

It grinds down the coarse edges of reality and allows him to slip effortlessly into a familiar skin.

Dieter Bravo: Washed-up Actor. 

Dieter Bravo: Party Monster. 

Dieter Bravo: Brazen Jackass. 

A carefully curated persona so convincing, it had him fooled for years before you coaxed the real him out of hiding. 

That guy, the real him, or whatever the fuck, is not the right man for this job. Too soft. Too emotional. Guy is a pansy, he would fucking cry or make a scene or something. 

Seriously. 

He has no jurisdiction here. 

Here, in this glitzy opera house, among the other black-tie patrons who regard him and Jackie Lantern with a kind of grotesque curiosity that guy couldn’t fucking handle. 

But, Dieter Bravo: Attention Whore? 

Eating. This. Shit. Up. 

“Literal fucking pearl clutching, ho-ly shit,” he murmurs to Jackie’s big, white blonde afro wig as they walk up the red carpeted stairs into the lobby. 

It opens up into a huge space that reminds him of a cave. 

Brightly-lit, thanks to the starburst chandeliers dripping from the ceiling like stalactites, but a cave all the same. All four stories of shining white marble look to be hollowed out over centuries. Smooth, curved staircases flowing into terraces, filled with hundreds of well-dressed people and the abstract murmur of their conversations. 

For the millionth time today, he wishes you were here. 

You would be awestruck, gazing around with starry eyes that would make him appreciate its beauty that much more. You would look at him, in that way you do, and everyone else would melt away. You would smile and make those crystal chandeliers look like bare fluorescent bulbs. Put the goddamn place to shame. 

“Whaddaya think, sugar? Get a drink?” 

He glances up at Jackie over the rim of his sunglasses and tosses his sloshy head back and forth, trying to gauge how drunk he actually is, then shrugs, “Fuck it, why not.” 

She leads the way while Dieter follows in her wake, delighting at the number of people who ogle Jackie, with her big hair and her commanding presence and her blue gown, shimmering aqua and cyan and turquoise in the light. 

Only a few people seem to notice him trailing behind her. Fewer yet glint any tell-tale signs of recognition. The little upright jolt. The furrowed brow leaping into a surprised expression. The whispered “Is that who I think it is?” to the person beside them. Or, his favorite, the scramble to grab their phone and snap a photo. 

They order drinks and find a tall table in the corner to lean against. From this vantage point, they survey the crowd for their subjects. 

“How much does your man know?”

“My man,” Jackie mutters to herself with a little scoff, glancing down at her martini, “He’s not my man. I’m just a rental.” 

Dieter peels his eyes away from the crowd to look at her, “A rental?”

“Not good enough to invest in long-term.”

His head rocks back in understanding, and he frowns, “How long have you been seeing him?”

“Off and on for two years.” 

As she says this, she looks up, flicking her eyes around the room. Then she zeroes in on something. Her posture perks to attention. That little glint of recognition. 

Dieter follows her gaze to what can only be described as the most average looking white man in Manhattan. Dusty blonde hair, athletic build, black suit. 

He would’ve completely overlooked the guy if not for the precision of Jackie’s stare. 

Well, that and the fact that you’ve gone on your fair share of angry rants about the man, which involved you showing Dieter his Instagram. This is how he also recognizes the mousy woman standing at his side. 

“He brought his wife?”

“Yeah.” 

“Have you two me—”

“Nope.” 

The sullen aura radiating off her makes Dieter tick his jaw back and forth. He looks between her and Reese, then asks, “Does he know the plan?” 

“Kind of,” she shrugs, “Bare bones, enough to maintain plausible deniability.” 

“Uh huh. How did Reese know about Mr. Lindorm’s uhhh…” 

He scrunches his face up and turns his wrist around, trying to find the right word. 

Jackie raises an eyebrow, “Proclivities?” 

“I was gonna say fetish, but sure.” 

She lands a playful smack on his arm, then sighs, “Sometimes it’s best I don’t ask.”

“Don’t ask don’t tell, good policy.” 

This earns him a side-eye with very little humor attached. Sore spot. Fuck. 

“Look,” he leans harder on the table, “All I’m saying is you could do better. No doubt about it. You uhh… I don’t know. You deserve someone who loves you so much, they would pluck the stars from the sky and craft them into a crown for you. Not someone who keeps you a secret.” 

“Craft them into a—?” She blinks at him, “Ok, papi, what the fuck’re you talking about?” 

He tries to formulate an answer, to figure out where the fuck that came from, but admits, “Fuck if I know.”

“I’m cutting you off.” 

“I am not that drunk.” 

“Better not be, cuz it’s fuckin’ showtime. Here they come.” 

“Sorry to interrupt.” 

He looks to the source, flicking his gaze up and down Reese’s neat tuxedo. 

Reese extends his hand, “I don’t believe we’ve met, but I’m Senator Reese Bernard—”

“I don’t endorse political campaigns, sorry.” 

He starts to turn back to Jackie, who mirrors the action, then Reese, right on cue, says, “Oh, no. Nothing like that, I’m just a big fan. Could I buy you and your um,” his eyes shift to Jackie, “Companion a drink? Maybe pick your brain for a bit?” 

Dieter finds himself slightly surprised with Reese’s acting ability. That is, until he remembers the man acts every single day of his life. He raises his eyebrows in question at Jackie, who holds his gaze and shrugs, “Fine by me.” 

“Alright, yeah.”

A boyish grin spreads across Reese’s face, then he turns to the little mouse of a woman behind him and murmurs something to her, jerking his head towards the bar. 

She nods and walks off as Reese joins their table, glancing between Dieter and Jackie, “Well, this is certainly a way to shake things up at the opera, huh? Kind of exciting,” he settles his gaze on Jackie, giving her a charming smile, “You look gorgeous.” 

“Thanks, love,” she tilts her head at him, batting her lashes. 

The way they look at each other, all goo-goo eyes, inspires Dieter to finish his drink. When he slams the empty glass down on the table, they both jump, snapping out of their nauseating little bubble. 

“When’s our guy supposed to be here?” 

“Ahhhh,” Reese frowns at his watch, then starts searching the lobby, “Should already be around somewhere. We always meet him and the missus over here for a drink before the show.”  

“You guys do this often?” 

He shrugs, “Every couple of weeks or so. Not really my cup of tea, or his even, but the gals love it.” 

“Cute,” Dieter mutters. 

Jackie shoots him a look, then asks Reese, “Do you really think this is gonna work?” 

“Oh, definitely, definitely. The guy is smart when it comes to law, but thinks with his dick when it comes to most everything else,” he smirks at her, “And you’re just his type.” 

In response, Dieter grunts and searches the room. His head feels weighted, brain sloshing around in the sea of alcohol he consumed throughout the day. 

Maybe he should switch to water for a while, slow down this freight train. 

Or maybe we should go in a different direction. Try to get a hold of something that will straighten us out. 

This thought overrides his entire body, blaring and hot and uncomfortable in his veins, and he wonders if that’s why it’s called an impulse. 

Wouldn’t it make you feel better? 

His leg starts to bounce. He grits his teeth and reminds himself that he promised you he wouldn’t use cocaine again. Reminds himself of what you said in return:

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Your voice in his head makes his heart flutter, while the content of your statement sits heavy in his stomach, warring with that concentrated dose of urgency buzzing through him. 

“There he is,” Jackie murmurs into her wine glass, “Over by the stairs.”

Jerking to attention like he fell asleep at the wheel, Dieter follows her laser-focused gaze to a distinguished salt-and-pepper man posing for a photo with a tall blonde woman. 

The way they stand next to each other, all rigid and precise, their perfect, practiced smiles spread wide beneath dead eyes… it strikes him as familiar. 

Middle-aged Barbie and Ken. 

A fair comparison, although she looks closer to 20 than 40. Either that or she has a stellar plastic surgeon. 

There’s something else, though. 

It’s in the way they take a big step apart when the photographer gets his shot. How they seem to be bickering at each other out the side of their faces between fake smiles. 

Anika and Dieter. 

He studies them with a morbid kind of curiosity, wondering if that’s what they would have eventually been like if they tried to make it work. If, almost a year ago, he would’ve gone home to her instead of boarding that plane to New York. 

They would’ve fought about it. Maybe they would’ve cried and had make-up sex. He probably would’ve gone to rehab, and couples counseling, and, hell, maybe they would’ve had a kid or something. Things would’ve felt real and good with her for a while. 

But it would have faded. 

After a while, he would have strayed again. He would have started getting high and fucking around all the time. He knows this like he knows you’re alive, like he just knows things, certain and right at the very core of him: He never would have found peace until he found you. 

Instinctually, he wants to say you changed him, that you made him want to be a better man. But it dawns on him, with stunning clarity, that you didn’t. You didn’t change him any more than an astronomer changes the universe when they discover a star. 

Which is to say, darling, that you just brought him into focus so he could see himself for who he really is. 

Anything else would have been a plastic, miserable cohabitation. 

As this sinks in, that hungry buzzing in his chest wanes. He understands that he can’t break his promise to you. More aptly, he won’t, because he’s not that man anymore. 

—

Sometimes things go sideways. 

For instance, sometimes the love of your life thinks that disappearing is the best solution to both save your career and evade a second felony. 

Sometimes, though… the universe aligns in your favor, and a plan goes off better than you ever could have imaged. 

Sometimes your girlfriend’s best friend’s boyfriend’s wife, who Dieter eventually learns is named Rachel, runs into her friends, Mr. and Mrs. District Attorney, on her way back from the bar and invites them to join your table. 

They introduce themselves as John and—no fucking joke—Barbara Lindorm. Just as Reese predicted, John is captivated by Jackie the second he lays eyes on her. He occupies the open space next to her and laughs at her jokes, frequently splitting off into quiet little side conversations, where Dieter hears him ask where she’s from, what she does for a living, and whether she and Dieter are dating—which is great news, because it means he has not placed him as Dieter Bravo: Louella Friedman’s Meddlesome Boyfriend. 

If Barbara notices her husband flirting, she doesn’t let it show. Dieter surmises it’s because he’s doing a bit of flirting himself, letting his gaze linger on her longer than appropriate, complimenting her dress, her hair, her nails. Not because he’s interested or anything, but rather to provide a bit of a distraction while Jackie reels in her husband. 

It’s a little fucked up, sure, but you’d understand. Think big picture, baby. The greater good or whatever. 

At one point, he sees Jackie pull out her phone and tell John, “Oh, I have to show you this picture from my last show, you’ll love this.” 

This is the move. The part where she shows him a typed out message telling him to follow her at intermission. 

Dieter calls attention to the other side of the table, asking Reese, “So, what, do you guys have regular seats or something? Since you come here so often.”

Reese sees the setup and nods, “Oh, definitely. A box, actually, they’re great seats—“ he cuts himself off with a gasp, slamming his palms down on the table, “Hold on, I’m getting a crazy idea. The other couple we usually come here with dropped out at the last minute. Do you two want their seats?” 

Dieter glances over at Barbara, meeting her demure gaze, while he hears John murmur to Jackie, “You’re right, I do love that.”

“Why the hell not,” he licks his lips and shrugs, departing from Barbara’s eyes to meet Reese’s, “Let’s keep this party rolling.” 

Reese grins, “Fantastic! Ok, do you guys wanna go now, or…?”

The lights wax and wane in brightness a few times, signaling curtain call, and Dieter smirks, “Lead the way.” 

—

While waiting for the gilded curtains to part, Dieter flips through the program for Ariadne auf Naxos, tuning out the meaningless chit chat taking place around him. 

He skims the synopsis provided, mostly just trying to look busy. One sentence catches his attention. 

Ariadne is alone in front of her cave. 

He tilts his head at it, lingering for a moment before resuming the skim. His eyes snag on the words stars vanish, then backtrack to the beginning of the sentence. 

Entranced by Ariadne’s beauty, Bacchus tells her that he would sooner see the stars vanish than give her up.

Like he did with the last line, Dieter stares at it, slightly stunned. He shifts in his seat, glancing around before leaning over the program to re-read the opera’s synopsis from the beginning. 

The passage briefly recounts the story of Ariadne, who assisted Thesus in escaping a labyrinth because she loved him. They were betrothed, and Ariadne left her family to be with him. On the trip home, Thesus abandoned her on a remote island while she was sleeping.

Ariadne woke and found herself alone on the beach. Heartbroken, she longed to die. When Bacchus arrived on the island, Ariadne first thought he was the messenger of death, then mistook him for Thesus. Bacchus explained that he was neither, he was a god. They fell in love and rose into the heavens. 

Dieter sits back in his seat and fidgets, trying to find comfort despite this goddamn suit jacket, all stiff and tight with wads of cash. Despite the painful parallels his mind keeps drawing. 

You are fucking everywhere. 

The opera. The crystal galaxy chandeliers that hang from what looks like a bright white tunnel into the afterlife. The scalloped ceiling, backlit with a warm, golden light, reminding him of goldfish scales. 

Are they signs or is he just losing his fucking mind? 

“Probably both,” he mutters to himself. 

Jackie looks up from her program at him, raising an eyebrow, “What?”

He shakes his head, nervously tugging at the whiskers that sprout from his jawline. 

Before she can prod him further, the chandeliers float up into the white abyss and all of the lights dim, then the curtains part. 

—

As soon as intermission starts, Jackie is on her feet. 

John waits one cool second before excusing himself and following her into the hall. Reese hears this and turns around in his seat, asking Barbara how she likes the show so far. As she leans forward and begins to answer him, Reese locks eyes with Dieter and gives him a wink of approval. 

Dieter nods and rises to his feet, then slips into the hall, weaving his way through the crowd.

See, when Jackie used to work catering gigs here, she got to know a member of the opera house staff who showed her a few private rooms that aren’t necessarily secret, but aren’t exactly advertised, either. They’re reserved for VIPs, when they want them, but mostly remain unoccupied during performances. 

He follows the path Jackie mapped out for him earlier today to an unlabeled door on level three. Inside, he hears a familiar giggle and knows it’s the right one. 

He pats down his suit jacket with both hands, double checking that he didn’t somehow drop all his money en route, then grabs the doorknob, twists it, and pushes the door open to reveal the smallest Victorian parlor he’s ever seen in his life. 

It contains an antique sofa, a coffee table, and an armchair in the corner, and still feels cramped. The back wall is entirely occupied by a mirror. Probably an attempt to make the room look bigger. 

On the ornate red sofa, Miss Jackie Lantern and Mister District Attorney are so busy making out, neither of them seem to notice his presence. 

Dieter makes a point of closing the door with a loud bang. John jumps up and starts scrambling away from Jackie, his face all covered in hot pink lipstick, stammering out clichés, “I can explain, this isn’t what it looks like—”

“Save it, that’s not what this is,” Dieter waves him off as he approaches the couch, unbuttoning his suit jacket. 

“What is this, then?” he looks from Dieter, who shucks off his jacket and sits down beside him, to Jackie, “A three way?” 

Jackie sticks out her bottom lip in a sympathetic manner, shaking her head. 

“This is an opportunity.”

John turns to him, narrowing his eyes, “Explain.” 

“Well, see,” Dieter tosses his jacket on the coffee table, “I’m going to give you a stupid amount of money, I mean—really, truly, a fucking obscene amount of money. In return, you’ll drop the charges against Louella Friedman.” 

He studies Dieter carefully.

“You and I both know that warrant was bullshit. Based on witness statements obtained by fucking paps, really?” Dieter clicks his tongue against his teeth and shakes his head, “That man is a gossip monger with a grudge. Zero fucking credibility. It wouldn’t hold up in court. It would be a waste of everyone’s time and money. This is an opportunity to cut through the red tape and get a little something for yourself in return.” 

John sits back, crossing his arms. He frowns at the jacket for a while, seemingly running calculations in his head, then asks, “How much?” 

“Hundred thousand.”

His eyebrows make a surprised jump. He presses his knuckles to his lips, considering this. His leg starts bouncing. He looks between Dieter and Jackie, these quick, sharp glares, “I don’t appreciate being set up like this.” 

Dieter nods in acknowledgment. Jackie just blinks at him. 

He releases a big sigh. 

Sitting up, he grabs the jacket and digs into one of the pockets, then pulls out a few $10,000 bundles. 

As he inspects them, Dieter asks, “Well?” 

“You two are good,” John chuckles, then extends his hand to Dieter, “I’ll look into her case for you, see what we can do.” 

He takes it, giving him an overly enthusiastic shake, “Good man. Thank you.”

“Louella Friedman?”

“That’s right. I, uhhh—I put her info in the front pocket.” 

“Got it.” 

Dieter stands and looks at Jackie, nodding to the door. 

“Thanks, Johnny,” she winks, then rises to her feet and starts towards the door. 

“Thank you, Jackie,” he grins at her for a second before returning to Dieter, “And thank you.” 

“My pleasure,” Dieter pulls up the sleeves on his dress shirt, “Don’t spend it all in one place.” 

John laughs at this, so Dieter feels compelled to clarify, “No, but really, the IRS might start asking questions if you do. So—don’t, ok?” 

“Oh, well, yeah—”

Dieter turns on his heel and follows Jackie out of the room, closing the door behind him. 

“Johnny?” he raises an eyebrow at her as they walk away.

“He’s kinda cute. Good kisser.”

“Thinking about adding him to your roster?”

She snorts and gives him a playful shove, “Let’s get the fuck outta here.”

—

Within thirty seconds of entering the apartment, Jackie has locked herself in the bathroom with the shower running. 

Dieter collapses on the couch and slowly dismantles the remains of his suit, unknotting the bow-tie, taking off his dress shirt, wriggling out of his pants, until he’s left in boxers and an undershirt. 

Exhaustion, emotional and physical, drains any remaining adrenaline from this evening’s success from his limbs. 

Figuring it will take a while for the de-Jackiefication to take place in the bathroom, he checks his phone for updates, then decides to call and leave you a message before letting sleep take over. 

“Hey, this is Louella, sorry I missed you. Leave me a message and I’ll call you back, thanks.” 

“Hey, doll, it’s me. It is… just after midnight here in New York. Just wanted to let you know, I talked to the DA. He’s dropping the charges, because they’re bullshit, and uhhh… yeah. You can come out now, if you want. I… I miss you. All day I missed you. I wish you were here, and—listen, Lua, I get what you’re doing. You think you’re saving me or something by disappearing, but let me tell you, you are fucking not. Ok? I don’t think you understand… you save me every single day. Just by loving me. The acting, publicity, fucking—whatever, none of that fucking matters to me. I swear to god. You are—you are it for me. The end all be all. My sun, my moon, the stars, you are my whole fucking universe. You are… everything to me, Louella. I love you. I hope I see you soon.” 

[ Next Chapter ]

[toxic3mmy]

heyy!! i was wondering if you could write a story about reader and alex who have been liking each other since and dating around 2021, then finally announced there relationship in 2024? hope this isn’t a hard ask, love you!

sure! i’ll try my best! i love you too!! also im sorry its a bit short!!

prompt: you and alex decide to finally announce your relationship

no warnings, super fluffy!!

________________________________________

big announcement coming today at 10pm pst!!

~q

you read over his tweet. after so many years you had to hide your relationship and now you were making it public.

you thought back to when you met alex and when you guys began dating.

the music was pulsing through you and so were the drinks you had. you were out at a club by yourself.

you had gotten out of a relationship two months ago but it was heartbreaking. he had you wrapped around his finger and you never even realized he was cheating on you. of course now, you had to do everything to not feel so empty.

so here you find yourself, almost plastered and just enjoying your night. you look down and see that your cup is empty. you walk up to the bar and wait to order another drink.

“so many people” you mumble to yourself

there were a lot of people keeping the bartender busy so it was quite a wait.

a handsome guy walked up to the bar and made eye contact with you.

“any drink you recommend?” he asked you

he was really sexy, you thought to yourself

“thank you, i can say the same about you sweetheart” he replied

“oops, i must’ve said that aloud” you laughed, too intoxicated to feel embarrassed

“my name is alex, what’s your name? or should i call you beautiful?” he smirked

you playfully pushed him lightly, “oh shut up, im y/n, and as for the drink i would say maybe a paloma? not sure if you’re into tequila but yeah, it’s what i was going to order”

he nodded and called over the bartender

“can we get four shots with lime and salt and also two palomas, please?” he asked

“here” i hand alex a twenty dollar bill and he quickly rejected it

“no, its okay, i’ve got it hermosa” he said, paying for the drinks as they were brought to us

he handed you a shot and you both drank it together

with the second shot, you felt the alcohol surge confidence through you as you grabbed a lime and placed it in his mouth. you then poured some salt onto the side of his neck.

you got closer to him and licked the salt off of his skin. you threw back the shot and went to grab the lime from his mouth using yours. his eyes went wide as your lips met.

you pulled away from him with a content look on your face.

“my turn” alex whispered to you as he grabbed your hand and led you to some empty seats. he laid you down on them and poured salt down your cleavage in a line to your bellybutton. your cropped and revealing top made it easy for him to have all this access to your body. he then placed the lime in your mouth just as you did.

“its cold, just warning you” he laughed as he slowly poured the shot of tequila into your bellybutton.

he practically crawled over you as he lapped up the alcohol and moved up your body slowly, licking off the salt with his soft tongue. he took the lime from your mouth and it was his turn to have a smug look on his face.

“that was… really hot” you said as alex sat you up

“come on babe, let’s dance” he grabbed your hand and led you to the dance floor

with a drink in your hand, and his drink in his, the two of you danced sweetly together for what seemed like hours

after that, you exchanged numbers and you began dating shortly afterwards. it was a very odd coincidence that you both were streamers but you felt it was a good match.

alex was a huge streamer in 2021, when you met him, but now he’s even bigger and more known. you had a big following as well but nowhere near the amount of fans alex quackity had.

you smiled as you thought of the memories.

it was finally time. you helped alex set up his room for the stream.

“we’re really doing this, aren’t we ‘lex?”

alex stopped hanging up the banner in his hands and came closer to you

“hey.. it’s going to be alright y/n. trust me, my fans will love you! and if they don’t well i won’t put up with any bullshit. i’m ready to finally show off my amazing girlfriend. plus, i’m gonna have a lot of fun showing you off” he said as he tucked your hair behind your ears and kissed you softly

“yeah i guess you’re right. it’s gonna be so fun doing cringy couple streams! i’m excited about that and well, i want everyone to know that my sexy man is taken” you sighed

the two of you embraced and went back to decorating.

alex started his stream.

“hi everyone! hi guys, how are you all doing?” alex smiled brightly as he read his chat

you were sat in front of him and behind his camera, waiting for your entrance soon.

“so, this is a very important announcement that i wanted to make for you guys as you can see from the decor behind me” he pointed behind him dramatically

“well… it’s time i get serious and come clean to you all. this is something a bit difficult to talk about but i think it’s important and it’s time to come out and just say it”

alex takes a deep breath and continues,

“i have been hiding my relationship for a few years now. i’m sure you guys know y/twitchuser. shed quite awesome isn’t she? well, me and y/n have been dating seriously since 2021. i wanted to just let my fans know because i love you guys and well… im also really in love with this girl… come here, amor” he gestured for you to sit in the cameras view

you sat next to your boyfriend and nervously waved at the camera.

“hi guys… how are you?”

the chat went absolutely wild. they were so happy and congratulated the two of you.

“wow guys, thank you so much. you don’t know how much this means to me!”

alex went on and on talking to his fans, crying tears of joy. you reached up and dried his face, giving him a kiss on the cheek and a smile. alex smiled at you and continued to talk to his fans.

everyone was ecstatic and just so happy for you guys. soon, it was time for alex to say goodbye and end the stream as it was only a short one.

“that went really well… thank you y/n” he took your hand in his

“for what alex?”

“for everything. for just being you. for being the best girlfriend in the world. i love you so so much, mi corazóncito”

“te amo alex… thank you for finally sitting down with me and telling your fans about us.”

“of course baby.. you mean the world to me” he smiled at you

“so.. maybe we could reenact how we met as a celebration… with this” you pull out a bottle of tequila and smile shyly

“that actually sounds like a good idea! but i can’t promise that i’ll be able to take my hands off of you, especially looking like that” he smirked, his hands holding you by the hips

you laughed and felt your face get hot all over

“come on, babe” you pulled alex into your shared kitchen where you guys drank to celebrate your coming out as a couple.

[britswriting]

The Announcement | Quadruple The Love H.S

Follow Y/N + Harry's journey from being a family of two, to a family of six! Also know as, Harry + Y/N have quadruplets! This series will contain blurbs, social media posts, interviews and everything family + fame!

full masterlist qtl masterlist Read on Wattpad

harrystyles and ynstyles

•∘ ∘•

♡ liked by: annetwist, niallhoran, liampayne, and 3,765,874 others harrystyles: Been busy on break

annetwist: I can't wait!!

gemmastyles: I've already bought onesies 🙈💞

liampayne: Welcome to the club, mate!

ynstyles: You owe me £5 for not spilling the beans!

harryfan1: OMG WHAT

harryfan2: She said.. I'm having your baby! ↳ harryfan3: And it's ALL OF HIS BUSINESS OMG

harryfan4: Guys... we're getting dadrry. I repeat, we're getting dadrry!

ynstyles

•∘∘∘∘

•∘∘∘

∘∘•∘∘ ∘∘∘•∘ ∘∘∘∘•

ynstyles: First trimester diaries! 🍼 First things first, finding out your pregnant, at least.. when you're trying, is the best feeling ever!!!! Harry and I took so many photos and videos (far too personal to share, (See slide four to see me on the verge of screaming and crying over the fact that I'm pregnant lol) you see me cry enough as it is lol) and we sat on the bathroom floor in pure happiness and disbelief. (and a lot of concern on my end..) I couldn't stop looking at my stomach and bubbling nonsense to Harry as we began our true first steps into parenthood. (I'll eventually talk about our journey, but if you're new, it hasn't been an easy one💝) As we watched my stomach grow, we couldn't stop touching it! The idea of feeling a kick, or a flutter... or even just the thought of a baby inside of me; pure happiness. (Pst, Harry sleeps with his hand on my belly and it's my new favorite thing ever!!!! It's so cute!!!) For those wondering, Morning sickness is brutal. I'm already losing sleep, vomiting my guts even in the middle of the night and much to my dismay, awakening Harry every time I scurry to the bathroom. (If Harry looks extra tired on camera, I apologize! - he'll tell me off for this, shh!) Tiredness is unreal. I mean, I figured growing a human would be hard, but I'm convinced I'm asleep more than I am awake. I wake up, vomit, eat some crackers take my meds, sleep repeat. Ultrasounds are the craziest experience ever!! Harry and I lost our minds and Harry's soft smile when we saw the screen is burned in my brain forever. He's honestly already such a good husband but I know he's going to be an even better father! I honestly can't wait!! @harrystyles I love you so much! Thank you for making me a mumma <3

annetwist: Congrats! I'm excited to finally talk about it!

yourbff: I can't believe you didn't tell me for 3 weeks smh ↳ ynstyles: It was unbearable for me too!

comments on this post have been limited

~

"Love, staring at it won't make the line appear quicker" Harry tried to ease, his hand on my back as my eyes laser locked on the pregnancy test.

"The line has to show at some point!"

Harry snatched the test off the counter, my mouth a gape, ready to throw protest when he grabbed my hand and led me to sit down on the cold tile with him.

"Harry! Give me the test!" I whined, my tear ducts filling as the past couple months of worry begun to spill over.

"Y/N, babe, just sit down with me. We're dong this together, alright?"

I reluctantly sat next to him, Harry setting the test on his thigh, his right hand clasping my left as we stared down at it.

"What if it's just one line?" I asked softly, my biggest fear being vocalized once again.

"Then we'll try again" He repeated instantly, a singular tear rolling down my cheek.

"Harry, it's our sixth round in three years" I cried, my eyes squeezing shut as the emotion left glistening trails down my cheeks.

"Y/N, we don't have to do it again" He told me calmly his thumb rubbing against my knuckles, something he did frequently to quietly soothe me.

"You already know how I feel about adoption" I whimpered, guilt encasing my chest as I slowly opened my eyes, my blurred vision attempting to peak at the test.

"I know" He replied, not offering much else as he starred at the test.

"I'm a horrible person" I begin to cry again, taking my hand out of his as I covered my face.

"You're not a horrible person, y/n"

"What woman doesn't want to adopt, Harry?! We could! We could have already had a family! What kind of person is afraid too adopt?!"

"A person whose thought about every avenue. Y/N, it's perfectly normal to want what you want. Can you open your eyes please when I talk to you?" He asked, His green eyes were full of hope, my throat tightening as I glanced away. "Y/N" Harry warned, getting me to look back at him. "I know you're afraid of everything that comes with adoption, and if it's a huge fear of yours, whether it's that you won't love them the same, or they won't love you, or all of the separation issues you've read about.. it's just a different journey that we'd take together. We'd figure it out. You're not the first person to be nervous to adopt if that's a path we need to consider. However we start our family, is how we start our family. I know having a biological baby means a lot to you, but if that's not where life takes us, I think we both need to prepare ourselves to come to terms with that" He told me honestly, my lips pursed as I nodded.

It was true.

As horrific as it made me feel, I was afraid that if I adopted, I wouldn't love that child the same way I would my own. Maybe it was silly.. but my dream was to always have a baby of my own, and now that it's became an entire ordeal including medical professionals and obsessive calendar counting, I knew I needed to let my brain dance with the idea again... but could I really do that to a child? Bring them into this loving home.. and not love them the way they deserved? Would I ever view that baby as my own? Or would it feel more like a godparent babysitting situation?

IVF has been a rough path that Harry and I have walked down. One we didn't take lightly, and one we definitely probably over researched before even attempting such feat.. but with all the cons.. there were the pros.

So we tried, and we tried, an we tried.... and we gave up. Adoption maybe? Foster care? Surrogacy? Egg donors? There was a million routes.. but none of them felt like my dream. I wanted to have sex one night and wake up pregnant the next morning with my husbands child, and I struggle a lot with the fact that that isn't how it's happening.

It would be so easier if I could blame Harry, and his annoying sperm.. but the reality is, Harry is perfectly capiable impregnating someone.

I'm the problem.

Learning that you're supposed sole duty of a period every month wasn't even worth it... definitely landed me in some pretty intense therpary.

There has been more dark days than light for both Harry and I.

I'd be lying if I said divorce had never crossed our minds.

Things got bad, before they got good again and now here I sat next to him, wedding band on my finger as tears streamed down my cheeks, ready to be once again disappointed by my body.

"Can we just see what this test says and go from there, please?" I asked quietly, Harry nodding. "Can you look? My eyes are blurry"

I did my best to clear my vision when I heard the inhale of Harry's sharp breathing.

"What?" I asked, panic making my body tense. "What?!"

"It's two lines! Y/N! You're pregnant!" He practically yelled, my entire body stilling.

"What?"

"YOU'RE PREGNANT!" He yelled, scurrying off the floor, helping me up and yanking me into a hug and a kiss.

"Oh my god" I exhaled, my vison thankfully clearing as I snatched the test, seeing the two pink lines for myself.

"That has to be fake" was my immediate reaction as I held the test up to the light, the pink line darkening right in front of me. "Where is the clearblue one?" I asked Harry, Harry's arms wrapping around me, his palms resting against my stomach as I pulled open one of the drawers, finding my stash of pregnancy tests.

The drawer was probably my most opened drawer in the entire household; which meant it was also my most hated.

All it held was dreams and disappointment.

"Can you grab me a few water bottles, please?" I asked, setting the test aside as I opened one of the more expensive pregnancy test boxes.

"Baby, it's so dark" Harry showed me, crease lines between his brow as his dimples pops from the smile he had.

"I know, I know.. I just.. want to be sure. I need to pee again! Water, please!"

Three water bottles later, I found myself peeing on yet another stick and plopping the capped test onto toilets paper on our counter.

I hated waiting.

"Babe, are you going to look?" Harry asked, a goofy smile still on his face as he leaned against the door frame.

"What if the test was wrong?" I asked again eyeing the drugstore pregnancy test next to Harry.

"Baby, they're supposed to be one of the most accurate tests"

"But false positives are a thing!" I shouted, shaking my hands as I paced the space between the toilet and the bathtub.

"Y/N" Harry sighed, "I know you're worried, and we can make a doctors appointment to verify.. but baby, I think this is it. I think we've done it"

I hesitantly walked up to the counter, my eyes locked on my mess of a reflection in front of me before slowly finding the test.

"Oh my god" I exhaled, the bold "pregnant" staring back at me. "Harry!" I quickly showed the test, a smile starting to form at my lips as my eyes welled up with tears again, "I.. we're... oh my god!" I shrieked, jumping a little as I waved the test next to me.

I quickly pulled out my phone, the video shaky as ran over to Harry, kissing him before showing the test to the camera.

"We're pregnant!" I yelled out, Harry grinning as he leaned down to kiss me again, the video stopping and I turned to the camera, Harry snatching the drugstore test, both of us holding up the tests as we took countless photos before posting in the mirror, taking all sorts of different angles of my belly.

I can't believe we're pregnant.

"I told you you weren't fat" he chuckled as we inspected my bloated stomach.

"I'm fat with your baby!" I laughed, my hand running over the puffy skin. "God, I'm going to get more stretchmarks"

"Good thing you married a man who happens to love them" He pecked my cheek, his hands on my hips.

"We need to make a doctors appointment pronto and make sure these tests are correct" I informed, setting the plastic test on the counter.

"Baby..."

"I know, I know! I just.. I want to be sure, okay?"

"I know. I love you no matter what, but I really think this time.. this time is it"

🍼

Hello! I've had this idea for a while, and I thought it would be fun to make kind of an open ending series? Meaning we can work on this for as long as we want! From finding out, to their birth, and just watching them grow up! If you have any requests, feel free to ask! I don't plan on posting them in order (like birth, growing up etc), but I will have them posted in (hopefully) chronological order in the masterlist!

Feel free to leave requests in the comments or on my ask via my profile!

If you have any baby names, let me know! I have the sex's picked out, but not the names!

I wanted to make this longer, but Tumblr has a 10 photo limit so...

I'm hoping as I get into it, I can write the blurbs better, just with their storyline, it was a bit hard to make it very happy and fluffy lol.

Welcome to my Quadruplet series! (I might post it on wattpad, I'll update the masterlist with a link if it is!!)

pst. my little circles won't stay where I want them to, if you know how to fix that lmk, otherwise we can both be annoyed together!

-Brit <3

[vaultie-and-theghoul]

Whatever you do, do not Draw Attention to Yourself

Lucy and the Ghoul had been traveling together going on three days now. Things had been a bit different since that first night together. She was still numb, still unable to ask the questions that she needed answered. On the outside, the Ghoul seemed unfazed but Lucy noticed his eyes lingering on her. She wasn't sure if he was waiting for her to have another breakdown or maybe he was afraid she would become violent. The idea of violence was appealing, but unfortunately, there wasn't a single extra ounce of energy left in Lucy's numb body.

"Pst, Vaultie," the Ghoul whispered, pulling her behind one of the large rock piles to their left, "You see that over there?" His hand reached forward, index finger pointing to a dark spot in the distance. Before her eyes could focus on what the Ghoul was pointing at, Lucy was distracted by his finger. The flesh of his index finger was pale and smooth in comparison to its brothers. It was expertly sewn to the thick leathery skin just past the second knuckle. Looking down at her discolored finger, she boxed up that question and placed it in the ever-growing pile in her mind.

"Sweetheart are ya listenin'," the ghoul snapped his fingers in front of her face, "I said, that little speck in the distance is a settlement. There will be recourses and shops there, but whatever you do, do not draw attention to yourself."

Lucy flared with hot anger that was quickly doused by more memories of her doing just that. Time after time she had in one way or another drawn attention to herself or her companion.

"I'll do my best," Lucy said, dryly, "Why are we stopping?" The look on the Ghoul's face said he had already explained it, but Lucy couldn't care at the moment.

With a heavy sigh, the Ghoul said, "Well, I may be able to survive on ass jerky and dirty water, but a Vaultie like you needs actual nutrition. 'Sides this cowboy could use some more chems."

Lucy followed behind the Ghoul, Dogmeat at his side. The closer the settlement became, the more her nerves got the best of her. Could she handle another trauma right now? Was every town and settlement like the ones she had been to so far? The panic-induced thoughts spiraled until she ran right into the Ghoul who had stopped suddenly. Instead of cursing at her, like Lucy was expecting, he reached around his back and pulled her flush against his back.

"Everything is going to be alright," the Ghoul's voice was soft and soothing, "We will be in, out, and back on the road before you know it." Lucy took a moment to steady herself, leaning into the cowboy's back. She inhaled deeply, once again intoxicated by his scent. Lucy swore that the mystery fragrance was stronger than it had been last time.

"Okey dokey," Lucy sighed into his back, "Let's get this over with."

Lucy stayed in the shadows and let the Ghoul make his rounds. She watched him saunter between vendor stands, taking "free samples" as he liked to call it. Lucy wondered if the vendors noticed and were too afraid or if he was just that good. A little bit of both. She couldn't deny his charisma. The Ghoul was rough and tumble, snarky, and had a sharp tongue to match. Yet, Lucy had seen glimpses of someone behind the hard exterior. The night he held her while she sobbed, he even stopped making rude comments each time he helped her over an obstacle.

As Lucy watched her Ghoul do what he does best, she noticed a man off to the side who would move each time her Ghoul did. Her stomach turned to concrete, heavy with dread. Lucy monitored the strange man for a few movements longer before she took action. Ever so slowly, Lucy made her way around the market's perimeter until she was in earshot.

"Target sighted, be on the lookout for CX404," the stranger said into a two-way radio. Lucy's body jumped into action before her brain could stop her.

"Uh, Mister," Lucy said, jumping into the man's line of sight, "Could you tell me where to get one of those handy radios?" Her voice was overly excited in an attempt to hide her nerves. The man looked Lucy up and down before he grinned evilly.

He brought the radio back to his lips and pressed the button, "Target Lucy MacLean soon to be in custody." Lucy sucked in a deep breath ready to yell her cowboy's name. Except, Lucy only knew him by "the ghoul". That split second of hesitation was enough for the mercenary to shove something dry and dirty into her mouth before punching her in the gut. All of the air rushed from Lucy's lungs and her head swam. Whatever was shoved in her mouth must be coated in a drug.

Lucy's vision darkened around the edges, she was going to pass out. She frantically searched until her eyes landed on the Ghoul's back. He wasn't going to turn around in time was her last thought before Lucy lost consciousness.

Cooper had noticed the duo of mercenaries the moment he stepped foot in the market. It was only a matter of time before someone put a price on their heads. Coop knew better than to bring attention to them or himself. He had a plan you see. Go in, get the things he needed for his Vaultie, and high tail it out of there. They could deal with the Mercs on the road instead of in town.

That was until said Vaultie had defied his orders and confronted the merc tailing Cooper. By the time he had turned around to see what was causing the commotion, Lucy was already out cold. Stupid fuck hadn't taken into account the extra weight of the Vaulties pack and was struggling to move her.

"All that looting was good for something I guess," Cooper said under his breath. Time to show these assholes that it ain't so easy to capture ol' Coop and his Vaultie. He inhaled through his open nose, the dry air filling his sinuses and clearing his mind.

"Excuse me, kind Sir," Cooper called to the struggling mercenary, "I do believe that belongs to me." He watched in annoyance as the merc reached for his gun. Why do they always have to go for the damn guns? In the blink of an eye, Cooper had his pistol pulled out and pulled the trigger. The mercenary's hat flew off, a smoking hole dead center.

"Now son, you have one chance and one chance only," Cooper closed the distance between them and brought the barrel of his gun to the man's forehead, "You leave this pretty little thing to me, and you and that buddy of yours skedaddle." Cooper saw the hesitation in the man's eyes and cocked the hammer, "Dont you think I won't blow your brains out right here."

"Fuck, shit okay okay," the mercenary dropped Lucy and scrambled to his feet.

"Tell whoever sent you that it's gonna take more than two shitty mercs to capture us," Cooper called after the man as he rushed away. The market around them had fallen silent, "alright everyone shows over."

The hustle and bustle of the market started up again, violence was all too familiar to those of us on the surface. As he hoisted his Vaultie over his shoulder, Cooper couldn't help but chuckle. Lucy just couldn't follow the rules. Something that pissed him off to no end, but it was also something he admired. What could his life have been like if he quit following the rules all those years ago?

AO3 Part 1 Prequel