#there is cocaine in those songs

[sporadicallynightmarishbees]

I can't be expected to be normal after hearing the words:

" 'I've seen enough,' he says, 'I know exactly what I want

And it's this life that we've created

Inundated with the fated thought of you

And if you asked me to, if you asked me, I would lose it all

Like petals in a storm

'Cause, darling, I was born to press my head between your shoulder blades, at night when light is fading

Just to let you know, I'm old, waylaid and feels like I am wading

Into carpet burns and carousels

Christ, you'll be the death of me' "

Like??? How am I supposed to exist after this ripped open my ribs and played them like a xylophone

[bonesandthebees]

ALSO what's ur opinion on Wilbur's covers 🎤 specifically his cover of kmd

I feel like not enough people talk about his covers... i adore them sm

Alcolyte is soosososoooo comforting

Romance is Boring is just . Yes. It is yes.

And Kmd changed my brain chemistry holyshit i love his cover of kmd so much it causes so many emotions in me everytime i hear it, it's unlike anything I've ever heard

I never listened to his covers much because I'm very picky with music and I didn't actually know most of the songs he did covers of and just didn't care to listen to them more than once or twice

however. I just went and relistened to the KMD cover as a refresher and I do really like it it's so pretty

ngl the cover of wilbur's that I've listened to the most from that whole 'era' was actually his cover of privately owned spiral galaxy (not the lovejoy version the ARG version that someone edited to get rid of the silent bits). it might just be bc crywank was the one artist i was already familiar with out of all the covers wilbur did, but idk I just love the atmosphere and how lowkey that cover is while still being slightly unsettling

[muirneach]

my songs on loop for 2day:

ummm oh yeah dearest - buddy holly

the end of the world - skeeter davis

strange - patsy cline

younger generation - john sebastian

in dreams - roy orbinson

california sun - the rivieras

so certainly something happening to me

[cherrrydragon]

➤ every stranger makes me feel safer (and every person seems more beautiful)

← back to main masterlist

read it on ao3

SUMMARY ↳ Damian meets a stranger in the bathroom. You grin. “Cool. So…?” You pat the space beside you again. Against Damian’s better judgment, he steps closer. He is measured and deliberate, eyes scanning you for any sudden moves. There’s a mix of curiosity and resignation in his eyes. He sits down beside you, maintaining a respectable distance and cringing at how dirty this floor could be. pairing: damian wayne x gn!reader warnings: references to drugs (molly and cocaine), blink and you miss it underage drinking. tags/notes: pre-relationship, hiding in the bathroom at a party, conversations in said bathroom, soft & melancholic, inspired by this song wc: 1.8k

Damian Wayne is a sort of… enigma, to his peers.

He is the son of Bruce Wayne. It is known. He carries himself a certain way. He possesses a level of discipline that far exceeds his age. To those around him, Damian is often seen as aloof and distant, his demeanor cold and calculating. He has little patience for the frivolities that occupy the minds of other teenagers.

He is the son of Talia Al Ghul. It is not known. He has been trained in the way since he was young. His lineage defines him. He is the sum of his choices, even if they never really were his in the first place. There is a constant battle in his heart. There is little that can take his mind off of it.

So, he tries to find things that will.

He isn’t one for parties. Sweaty, drunk teenagers aren't to his taste. He tells himself it is part of maintaining appearances. Like when he must show himself at his father’s parties, this can’t be so different. He can play by the rules. His posture is always straight, his expression impassive, a silent observer rather than a participant.

People avoid him. He is untouchable, closer to heaven than Earth. His peers might admire his skills, his intellect, and his undeniable presence, but they rarely try to breach the wall he has so carefully constructed around himself. Few try to understand the weight he carries, his burdens. Fewer succeed.

The party is at a low. The music is faded, people are leaning against walls and chatting lowly to each other. They smile at their friends and their “friends.” They lean into each other and whisper into each other’s ears. They interlock fingers and drag them away from the party, no doubt off to find somewhere more private.

…The air in here is suffocating.

His legs carry him away, passing hallways and doors and couples who don’t care about public indecency. He slips into the first slightly ajar door with the lights on and slams the door closed, sighing. This bathroom is quaint, for his standards anyway. He looks at himself in the mirror, bracing himself on the sink. The music is more muffled here, but the oppressive silence of the bathroom isn’t much better.

Until, that silence is broken by a mutter of, “Uh, hi.”

Damian’s head snaps to the side, one of the rare times he's caught off guard. How did he not notice you? You’re not particularly being sneaky, nor do you look like someone who is capable of doing so. You’re leaning against the bathtub, entirely relaxed and content. You look like someone who is completely satisfied with their circumstances.

You give a small, quizzical smile. “There’s room enough for two if you also got tired of everyone else.” You scoot a little and pat the space beside you invitingly. “Unless you’re looking for molly or something, ‘cause I don’t have any. Also, nobody does lines in the bathroom anymore. That's cliché.”

He deadpans. “I’m not.”

You grin. “Cool. So…?” You pat the space beside you again.

Against Damian’s better judgment, he steps closer. He is measured and deliberate, eyes scanning you for any sudden moves. There’s a mix of curiosity and resignation in his eyes. He sits down beside you, maintaining a respectable distance and cringing at how dirty this floor could be. 

You watch him, unperturbed. “I like parties, but I get tired of them fast. Too many people, too much talking,” you hum, stretching slightly. “I hide in here to get my bearings. What about you?”

Damian’s mouth opens before he can stop himself. “I don’t see the appeal,” he admits.

“Neither do I. Kind of,” you shrug. “I only ever go with my friends. Nobody else matters as long as I’m having fun with them.”

Damian’s gaze drifts away from you, focusing on a spot on the tiled floor as he processes your words. There’s a flicker of contemplation in his eyes.

“It is kind of… lonely, though. Isn’t it?” you ask tentatively. “Being around so many people, and still feeling like it’s just you. That there’s no one that really gets you.”

Damian's eyes flick back to you, face passive. His posture has untensed. His mouth twitches, considering.

You blink. “Okay, that was deep out of nowhere. I think the punch is hitting.”

Damian lets out a short, quiet laugh, the first sign of genuine amusement you've seen from him. His inhibitions have been lowered. From what? He hasn’t taken so much as a sip from any drink at this damned party. Is it you? Do you have that effect on him?

“I don’t usually waste my time with meaningless events if I can help it,” he mutters, foot knocking against yours.

You raise an eyebrow, looking at him with mild curiosity. “And yet, here we are. Funny how that works, huh?” Damian nods slightly, his gaze shifting back to the bathroom’s muted décor. 

You let the silence stretch between you for a moment, both of you caught up in your own thoughts. The bathroom’s fluorescent lights flicker faintly, casting a soft, intermittent glow. The muffled thud of bass from the party outside makes its way into the room, but it feels distant and irrelevant now.

“So, Damian,” you start, trying to shift the focus away from the awkwardness of the situation, “what do you usually do when you’re not at these kinds of parties?”

“I didn’t tell you my name.”

You scoff slightly, rolling your eyes. “Don’t try to be humble, it’s not a good look for you.” He raises a brow as you turn to him. “Dude, you’re the son of Bruce Wayne. Of course I know your name.”

His eyes squint, a hint of amusement peeking out. “You’re bold.”

“It’s the alcohol,” you shrug. “I’ve already made out with a random guy a while ago. Not much farther I can fall from grace.” You look over to him, raising your eyebrows. “Unless you wanna make out?”

You laugh at how his expression turns sour. His eyes widen at your bold suggestion, the brief flicker of surprise giving way to a scowl. “I’m not here to indulge in such… frivolities.”

You chuckle, shrugging it off. “Fair enough. Just thought I’d offer.”

He seems to relax a bit more, a quiet calm settling over him. You lean back, crossing your arms behind your head and gazing at the ceiling. Damian remains still, his eyes fixed on the bathroom ceiling as if it holds the answers to his unspoken questions. The silence between you stretches out comfortably, filled only by the occasional distant thump of the party music.

“I like art,” he mutters.

“Art,” you hum. “Cool. What do you like about it?”

Damian’s gaze remains fixed on the ceiling, his tone soft and contemplative. “I find it… grounding. A way to disconnect from everything else.”

You nod slowly, processing his words. “What kind of art do you like? Paintings, sculptures…?”

He hesitates for a moment before answering. “All kinds. I appreciate technique and craftsmanship. But I also enjoy seeing how others interpret the world. A glimpse into their mind.”

“So you have an eye for detail,” you say, glancing at him with a thoughtful expression. “I get that. I think I like art too, in my own way. More abstract stuff, pieces that make you think.”

Damian’s eyes flicker towards you, a hint of curiosity showing. “Like what?”

You shrug, a little embarrassed. “I don’t know, really. Pieces that challenge conventions, make you question what you’re looking at. I guess I like things that have a story or provoke some kind of emotion.”

He nods, considering your words. “Do you have a favorite artist?” you ask.

Damian’s lips twitch slightly as he thinks. “Caravaggio.”

“Caravaggio?” you smile, nodding appreciatively. “Yeah, I can see why you’d like him. His stuff is intense and dramatic, definitely fits with your vibe.”

Damian raises an eyebrow. “My ‘vibe’?”

You chuckle softly. “Yeah, you know. Intense, serious. Not a bad thing. It’s just… who you are.”

He looks away, heat rising to his cheeks. “I suppose.”

The silence stretches again, more comfortable this time. The distant music has gone back to an upbeat pick, but in this private bubble of yours, you don’t notice it.

The conversation flows easily, surprising both of you. Damian, who usually keeps his thoughts guarded and emotions locked away, finds himself oddly at ease. He’s spent most of his life around people who either expect something from him or are intimidated by his background, but with you, there’s no expectation, no fear—just a simple, genuine exchange.

After a while, you shift slightly, getting more comfortable against the bathtub. "You know, it’s kind of funny," you say, breaking the silence. You lean your head back over the edge, turning to him. “I feel really comfortable with you, a total stranger. Feels like something out of a weird indie movie.”

Damian smirks at that. “Perhaps you’re just strange," he jests. His voice is softer now, less guarded.

You smile, pleased. “It’s one of my better qualities.”

"You've certainly made things more interesting," he replies, surprising himself with the admission.

The conversation drifts to other topics—books, places you’d both like to visit, even the absurdity of some of the things you’ve both encountered in your respective lives. Damian tells you as much as he can without revealing too much, while you share some of your own experiences.

There’s a comfort in the anonymity, in not having to be anyone other than who you are in this moment.

Eventually, you check the time on your phone and sigh. "I should probably get back out there. My friends are going to think I got lost."

Damian nods, though there’s a hint of reluctance in his eyes. "Yes… I should too." Not to mention he came alone.

You both stand up, and there’s a moment of awkwardness as you face each other. You extend a hand, for lack of anything better. "It was nice talking to you, Damian."

He hesitates for just a second before taking your hand. "Likewise." His grip is firm but not overly so, and for the first time in a long while, he feels a connection with someone that isn’t tied to his family, his legacy, or his duties.

You grin and give him a small wave before slipping out of the bathroom, leaving Damian alone with his thoughts. He watches the door close behind you and then looks back at the mirror, catching his own reflection.

He doesn’t recognize the person staring back at him—not fully. For the first time, he’s allowed himself to step out of the carefully constructed persona he’s maintained for so long.

And maybe... he doesn’t mind that.

…You were quite beautiful, weren’t you?

notes: school started and inspiration dumped me on the side of the rode BUT,,,, it managed this so hope u like it :)

[thesilmarillionblog]

𓏲 𓂃 L o s i n g Y o u

Part: 3

Click here to read the first part!

Summary: Everything was good as a member of Payback and Soldier Boy's secret girlfriend until the team and your relationship with him began to fall apart due to a new member and her developing relationship with Ben right in front of your eyes.

Pairing: Soldier Boy / Reader

Warnings: Heavy angst, hurt, cruel Soldier Boy, reader gets hurt, mention of violence, betrayal, Soldier Boy being a dick, reader is a supe, Crimson Countess is a bitch

Word Count: 2194

A/N: English is not my first language.

* This story is inspired by the song "Losing You" by Dream Evil.

Ben’s lips parted to say something when you told him that he would never hear you saying those three words again, but he clenched his jaw, and his eyes sharpened with fury.

“Don’t even bother, because those words already mean nothing to me.”

You caught him looking at your lips for a second, but he let go of your chin immediately and pulled himself together like he would kiss you if he waited for another second. His unreadable face was filling your heart with hope since you knew he would be far more different if he really didn’t like you at all as he told.

You walked over to him and gently touched his rough hand, asking, “Then why does it make you mad when I tell you I would leave Payback? If you don't really care at all, why do you want me here with your side so much that you threat me with hurting Noir? Ben, please be honest with yourself, at least. I know you won't be honest with me.”

You looked at him with desperation, pleading him with your eyes and touched his hand like you could never get that chance again. You didn’t understand what exactly caused his soft side to slip in your hands so suddenly, so sharp. What had happened to you exactly? You knew it wasn’t about Crimson or someone else, but you didn’t know the cause behind why you failed to solve the true reason behind all this pain.

You withdrew your hands just before he pushed them away. When you posed those questions, he seemed so confused and lost that you nearly thought he would finally crack and put a stop to the cruelty between you going on. Since you were aware that he wasn't good at expressing his true feelings from the very beginning, you were willing to push him a little. You would fight for it if you had to be the one to help him overcome his inner demons and open himself.

“I won't be giving a fuck seeing you fucking go away if I find a stronger supe than you,” he simply said.

You answered, “Neither the team nor you need a strong one,” knowing what he was talking about was just another lie. “Ben, you never care who is powerful or not as you know you are strongest. Your ego is too big to care about what other people are capable of.”

“What on earth should I tell you to get off my ass and stop bothering the Countess and me, huh, Y/N?” He inquired, showing no interest in what you had to say. It didn't even seem like he was paying attention to what you were saying. “I'm warning you; don't talk to me about love or other bullshit again.”

He retreated a step, sat on the couch, and sniffed the cocaine on the table before his eyes darkened. When your lips parted to respond, he lifted his hand menacingly, to prevent you from say another thing to make him angrier.

He yelled, “Shut the fuck up,” and started sniffing coke before you did, startling you with his unexpected outburst. “Do you think you know me? Are you fucking naïve?”

You also raised your voice, but it was rather shaky, saying, “I do know you.” You eventually lost patience with his attitude because of how much his persistence was getting on your nerves.

“You’re a fucking naïve then,” he chuckled, but his tone was rather angry than amusing. “Get the fuck out of here and leave me alone.”

You turned away, your eyes watering, and opened the door without saying a word to Ben, fearing that he would become enraged since he was too busy getting high like a real jerk. You heard Countess's voice in the distance. She gave you a tiny smirk to irritate you, as she usually does, but you left the trailer without looking at her and without creating any drama.

After a few weeks, you gave up attempting to get in touch with Ben because you could tell he was preoccupied with all the dumb advertisements and other bullshit. You also stopped participating in anything Payback-related, even though you were still required to perform these things along with the rest of the team. You informed Earving that you were completely well and needed some time for yourself, despite the fact that he had visited your home numerous times to check on you.

But it was a lie. You were either ill or simply lovesick. You had a difficult time falling asleep since you could recall every last detail of Ben and Crimson's interactions. They appeared in every movie, television show, and advertisement. It didn't matter if you simply vanished; you couldn't run away from your own sentiments that were killing you or their reality.

Earving told you that Ben was becoming crueler and harsher to him and the rest of the crew every day, but you couldn't really care because you were most likely going through the worst.

After a month, you were compelled to flee your home due to a terrorist attack, and all of the members required you on the battlefield. Ben was busy commanding the soldiers haphazardly, using heavy and hazardous weapons like toys, and showing off his whole range of abilities to them with an arrogant smile on his face.

He was taken aback to see you because you were the last person to enter the territory. Ben walked up to you with a sneaky smile on his face after he dropped the rifle on one of the twins from his shoulder, but you turned your back on him and continued talking to some soldiers to give him courage because you didn't want to hear what Ben was about to say to distress and upset you any more.

You were desperately missing Ben and were helpless for any kind of interaction or words to rekindle your already fading hope, but you were also proud. You were aware of everything that happened between you, and excepted the turth that the wonderful memories between him and you had long faded. More than anyone you didn't get to know, he was more of a stranger than any stranger. You were certain there was nothing left in you for him to break because he had broken your heart so many times. Struggling to change the past and pushing yourself too hard will only exacerbate your situation. You knew the pain wouldn’t fully disappear soon, but it would ease by time.

He didn't move again once you turned your back to him, indicating that you were right to let it go.

After Ben tormented him more severely than ever on your third day on the battlefield, Noir's patience ran out, and he kept saying Ben that he didn't deserve to be a leader and that he was simply a bully on cocaine. Despite your attempts to dissuade Earving from approaching Ben too closely and to push him back before things got physical, he was adamant about ending Ben's leadership.

“You don’t deserve to be the the leader of Payback. All you do is getting high and bullying all of us. All people here looking at us with hatred, not respect and the reasson behind this all is that we don’t have a respectful leader,” Earving said raising his voice.

Knowing that Ben was pretty nerveous espcially nowadays and fearing he was already ready to hurt anyone in the squad, you pushed Noir by his chest back trying to calm him down. He was right about everything, but it wasn’t the way to solve this mess Ben caused. Besides, no one would stand a chance against Soldier Boy. After all, he was indeed the strongest supe.

“Noir, please calm down,” you whispered him as if no one would hear you. “Don’t do this.”

Your body clenched with terror, knowing that he would be severely wounded by Ben, who was already looking for a small excuse to beat him up. Earving was digging his own grave for sure.

“What’s wrong with you?” Earving suddenly snapped, pushing your hands from him. “Why do you even support him?”

“Violence with get you nowhere,” you said sharply, implying he must stop or he’ll be the one to get hurt.

“And what the fuck will you do about this, huh?” Ben asked with an evil smirk on his face. “You just fucking disrespected me, you fucking weak fuckface. All you do is whining like a newborn baby yet you crave for respect and all shit.”

When you saw Ben make a move to face Earving, you stopped between them to prevent what was to come. Some soldiers were watching you all with curiosity, and some with fear.

“Ben,” you said with a serious tone. “Let’s not make a scene and let others talk behind you. How can they even respect you if you lay a hand on one of us? This won’t be good for your reputation; you know this.”

Instead of taking a step back and pressing his anger down, your effort to save Noir made him see red.

“Will you now fucking defend him against me?” Ben glared at your hands, which were tightly gripping his suit, and said, “Step fucking aside or you'll get hurt first.”

As you take a step back, you realize how you came so close to Ben without recognizing it, despite your repeated assurances to yourself to keep away from him. He had done many things to you lately, but it was the first time he threatened you with such severity.

Just as you are about to react, you hear Crimson approaching Ben.

Placing a touch on Earving's arm, you showed your understanding and concern for him when you noticed him fisting his fists and standing motionless. It was Ben's harsh attitude toward nothing that he got in return for all the respect he deserved, which was all he asked for. Although Earving had been performing rather well up until this point, everyone has their limitations.

“You know, you shouldn't let others treat Soldier Boy disrespectfully,” Crimson said as she gave you one of her venomous glances. “When Black Noir tries to seize control of the team and instigate a revolt, how can people still acknowledge Soldier Boy as the team's strongest supe and leader? How are you even going to support it, Y/N?”

She scowled and remained by Ben's side, uttering more venomous things to incite Ben's hatred of you. Simply because you were aware of Ben's vulnerability to manipulation over his authority, you took a deep breath and declared, “I'm not supporting any of this. Who the hell are you to read Noir's intentions that way?”

Ben raised his finger right up to your face, his eyes were darkened with disappointment. “So, that’s it. You fucking betrayed me for that cocksucker.”

Your eyes burned with fury as the corner of the Countess’ lips curled with satisfaction.

“Are you really talking about betrayal now?” You raised your voice as your hands were in fist now.

Earving felt your hazardous tension with Soldier Boy, and your fury subsided his own anger. You pushed his hands away from you, even though he touched your shoulder to convey his support for you in a gentle way.

You could see how effortlessly the Countess was able to influence Ben; your eyes were burning with pain. You had come to terms with the idea that he couldn't see his actual emotions through them, but it appeared he couldn't see yours either.

He'd pretended to be concerned about you, deceived you, threatened you, and now accused you of betraying him. But the truth was, he was the one who did them. You didn’t know if he was blind or just a coward who couldn’t even face himself.

“You know what?” Ben angrily remarked, “Since you wanted to go away from the team so much, you can fucking leave now. You are free to fucking go.”

With a heavy heart, you murmured, “Fine. Neither do I want to be a part of this.”

Next Chapter

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A/N: I had planned Losing You to be a one-shot story, but it seems it will take a little more chapters to make a final. Comments and reblogs are very appreciated!

Taglist: @mostlymarvelgirl @xmariakx @spnfamily-j2 @suspicious-stain-in-spain @atomicsoulcollecto @yvonneeeee @starryperson

Let me know if you want to be tagged for this series. <3

[absurdthirst]

Hollywood Happiness {Dieter Bravo x Actress!F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 15.5k

Warnings: 1950's Hollywood AU, mentions of homophobia, sex clubs, hedonism, threesomes, bisexuality, orgies, oral sex (male and female receiving), vaginal sex, secret relationship, secret marriage, hidden pregnancy, labor, mentions of forced abortions, traumatic births

Comments: Hired by the studio to be Dieter Bravo's co-star, you are also tasked with taming Hollywood's bad boy and keep the negative press away. Do that, and the studio will green light your passion project. Easy enough, until you fall for Dieter and end up pregnant.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Dieter Bravo MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

Dieter looks up from his script, his cigarette dangling between his lips until he reaches up to take it in between his fingers. His eyes appraising you as you walk in to meet him for the first time. His new co-star and the woman that’s going to be his leading lady. This motion picture is moodier, romance with a tragic ending. No dance numbers. No songs. It's a drama and what Dieter has been craving for so long. One can only tapdance in so many numbers until they can demand something more serious. This is his follow up to his Oscar win so he needs it to be good. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He says as he stands up, setting his script down to take your hand in his and press a soft kiss to the back of it. He’s hoping you aren’t one of those virginal, angelic actresses who has never seen cocaine or a naked man before. He doesn’t need to be babying you throughout this process. He wants to enjoy the production and be able to be himself…well, mainly himself. Rock walks by on his way to his own production and winks at Dieter, a shared look between “good friends” and Dieter smiles at him before turning his attention back to you. “So…what’s your story?” He asks, knowing everyone has one.

You know all about Dieter Bravo, apprised of it by the studio and exactly what you need to do in order to keep the head man happy where his star was concerned. Dieter has a problem. Nasty rumors seemed to follow him around, although it was all hearsay and the studio wanted it nipped in the bud yesterday. Dieter was rumored to be enjoying too many drugs and there are the scandalous rumors about wild orgies involving both sexes. You were brought in to make sure those rumors are squashed and their star was kept busy and out of trouble, with you. Smiling, you bat your lashes at the handsome man. “My story is one that you’ve probably heard a hundred times.” You titter slightly. “But I also have a script that I want the studio to film.” 

Dieter raises his eyebrows, surprised that you aren’t the usual Hollywood starlet they grab from some podunk town, operate on to transform them, and ensure that they have but one brain cell so they can learn their lines and blocking. You don’t seem to be the vapid, stupid actress he encounters. “A script? Perhaps you can enlighten me on the plot? Maybe I’ll be your lead one day.” He winks, noticing how pretty your eyes are and he briefly wonders what they’d look like watery while you suck his cock.

You smirk slightly and bite your lip. “It would take much too long to explain now.” You tell him. “Perhaps I can detail it to you over dinner?” You boldly ask, willing to take the opportunity to get closer to Dieter, hoping that you impress him with your boldness. 

He can’t stop the smirk that appears on his face, liking your moxie. You’re not shy and he enjoys that. He licks his lips and steps closer to you, “name the time and place, sweetheart. I’ll be there.” He promises, leaning down to snub out his smoke. He needs to change, dressing in his day suit, the one that he’s worn far too many times that the lining has holes in it but damn, it’s comfortable, and his sunglasses are perched on his head.

“Cole’s, 7 o’clock.” You insist, placing your hand on his chest and rubbing gently. “Bring a big appetite, we might close the place down.” You flirt, winking at him and then leaning in slightly to give Dieter a look down your dress.

Fuck, his cock twitches at the thought and he loves how you seem to be confident in what you want. That’s what’s been missing in other actresses he’s met. So many of them wanted to appear innocent and demure. You are sexy and he loves that. “See you at seven, baby doll.” He winks, licking his lower lip until he’s flipping his sunglasses down, “I better get to reading this script, be prepared for filming.” He says, knowing he is tempted to stay but he likes to keep a little mystery.

You watch Dieter saunter away, confident and sure as he greets other actors and actresses. You bite your lips, finding him far more interesting than you had imagined when you accepted the contract terms. Not that you had much choice if you wanted to be on screen. The studios make all the rules and you just follow them. You turn to walk towards costuming so you can be fitted to your wardrobe as the leading lady of this drama.

Dieter adjusts his evening jacket as he walks in Cole’s, the room already buzzing with conversation and the band playing in the corner. He tells the maitre d his name and he’s escorted to the private booths in the back. People look up as he walks by and he offers them a charming smile but inside he’s anxious, hating eyes on him. He swallows harshly and sits down at the booth, thanking the host who nods and leans in, “you were incredible in Hunger Strike.” He says and Dieter smiles, “thank you.” 

The man reaches into his pocket for his card and slides it to Dieter, “I’d like to show you how great I thought you were.” He murmurs and Dieter looks up at him with a smirk, “we can arrange that.” He promises with a wink and slides the card into his pocket. The man grins and walks off, Dieter watching his ass until the waiter comes over to take his drinks order.

Before you walk into the restaurant, you pull out your compact and powder your nose, checking your lipstick and hair. You are about to walk in and give the host Dieter’s name so you can actually get closer to the actor. “Be charming.” You remind yourself as you open the door and walk inside, aware that you were going to be photographed tonight.

Dieter stands up when you approach his table, a friendly smile on his face, and he takes your hand in his to press a kiss to the back of it. “You look gorgeous, baby doll.” He says, his eyes sliding along your figure and he gestures for you to sit.

“Thank you.” Your brow raises and you smirk slightly as you sit down with a clear view for Dieter down your cleavage and hum. “I have to say that the rumored charm of Dieter Bravo has not disappointed.”

He smirks as he takes his seat, picking up his whiskey, “glad to hear I don’t disappoint.” He flirts softly, knowing he’s walking a fine line when you are to be his costar for the next year. “So…who’d you fuck to get the job?” He half teases, half tests. He wonders if you’re someone looking to step on his head to get up the ladder or if you’re just that good of an actress.

You snort playfully and roll your eyes. “Who should I tell you? The director or the producer? Maybe both?” You joke and lean in. “Or maybe I got the roll on my acting skills alone? Is that the unbelievable story?” The waiter delivers a whiskey on the rocks. You order a neat whiskey with a lemon twist and smirk when the waiter rushes off, looking back at Dieter for his answer.

“Ain’t no shame in it, honey. Lord knows I’ve fucked enough people to get ahead in this business. I haven’t seen you act so I can’t say which story is the true one. Perhaps when we get on set I can ascertain which one is the reality but in the meantime, I’m gonna jerk off thinking of you getting split roasted by the director and producer.” He smirks, knowing you’ll think he’s scandalous.

You gasp, giving him the appropriate response that he is looking for. You know that he expects you to be offended, but you also know that he will be intrigued if you weren’t. Your lips twist into a smug smirk. “Isn’t that the only way to properly take two cocks?” You ask, picking up his own whiskey and taking a small sip of the liquor. “Maybe I will have to satisfy myself thinking about that tonight.”

Dieter chuckles, dirty and drawn out, and he smirks as he leans closer to you, reaching for your hand. “It appears we are going to get along just fine, baby. Tell me, have you ever been to an orgy before?” He asks, curious to see how dirty you truly are.

You tut and swat at his shoulder with your free hand playfully. “A lady never tells.” You hum and lift an eyebrow suggestively. “Discretion is the name of the game when you have fun with special friends.”

Dieter slides his foot across the floor to slide against yours, a devious grin on his face. “I can tell you and I are going to get along famously.” He hums, picking up his whiskey just as the waiter brings yours over. You order your food not long after and you and Dieter discuss the script for a bit, expanding your thoughts on your characters and the needed chemistry. “Forgive me if I speak too boldly but I think we have the chemistry down.” Dieter hums.

“I don’t think that is too bold.” You slide your foot out of your heel and rub it against his ankle. “Sometimes you just instantly know that you are going to fit well with someone.” You have flirted with him outrageously all night, but there have been some interesting conversations about the script that impressed you. Dieter is more than just a pretty face, there is a smart intellect behind those mischievous eyes.

“How do you fancy coming to a party tonight? My friend is throwing a shindig. Apparently Dean will be singing tonight.” He says and your eyes widen.

“Dean Martin?” You ask and he nods, “the one and only. Whatcha say, baby doll? Wanna come check out the Hollywood parties with me?”

How could you possibly say no to that? An evening with the top Hollywood stars? It’s exactly what you wanted and it could allow you to form some key friendships down the line. It’s not what you know in Hollywood, it’s who you know. “I say you should get the check.” You tease, biting your lip.

Dieter grins, gesturing for the waiter to come over and he quickly hands over the cash needed to pay the bill and then some. The waiter winks at him, “don’t forget to find me again.” He says and Dieter nods, “I’ll be sure to reach out.” He smirks and offers you his arm to guide you out of the restaurant and to his awaiting car.

“Are you sure that I’m the one you want to spend tonight with?” You ask as the porter opens the passenger side to allow you to step in.

Dieter scoffs, rolling his eyes, “are you fucking serious, baby? Look at you, you’re goddamn gorgeous. I’m gonna be the envy of everyone in the joint.” He assures you after he slides into the seat beside you.

You hum happily and turn so you can brush one of his curls back. “I will be the one getting the envious looks.” You coo. “I’ll be with the sexiest man there. Maybe anywhere.”

Dieter leans into your touch, almost purring as you scratch his scalp. “Fuck. Keep doing that, baby.” He pleads, his hand finding your thigh to squeeze. You’re something different and he loves it.

His plea for such an innocent touch is very revealing and you tuck it away for future speculation. “Touch a gorgeous man? My pleasure.” You assure him, keeping your hand in his hair as you lean close and kiss his cheek. “Drive baby and I’ll make you feel good.”

He nearly closes his eyes as he drives down Sunset Boulevard to the club he frequents. He pulls up and the valet takes the vehicle, opening the door for him and Dieter makes a show of rounding the car to open the door for you, holding his hand out towards you. “Welcome to Ciros.” Dieter days as he guides you inside.

Your eyes widen at the glitz and glamour of the exclusive club. “Dieter.” You gasp, clinging to him as you take it all in. Cary Grant is over in one corner, playing billiards with Jimmy Stewart, drinks on the edge of the table.

Dieter grins, loving how in awe you are of the club and he is happy you are enjoying it already. He knows he loves seeing all his fellow actors enjoying themselves and the back of the club is his particular favorite thing about this place. “You wanna get a drink?” Dieter asks, leaning in close so his lips brush your ear.

You turn towards him, so your lips are almost touching. “Whiskey, with a twist.” You tell him, looking into his lovely light brown eyes that seem to hold a thousand secrets. “Or whatever you want me to drink.”

“You have what you want to have.” He says and guides you to a booth in the back. He shuffles in and calls over the waitress, his eyes dipping down to her cleavage as he orders your drinks.  His arm is thrown over the back of the booth, his fingers playing with the strap of your dress as he leans towards you.

“So tell me about Dieter Bravo.” You coo as you run a finger down the smooth line of his jaw. “The real Dieter, not the persona”

He smirks, “the persona is the Hollywood golden boy. The real Dieter? He’s a dirty bastard. I love sex. Men, women. Both. I love sex and I love pleasure. I take drugs to numb the pain of being alone and I’m alone because I take drugs. I’m a typical Hollywood disaster and my manager and the studio desperately want me to settle and be a good boy, but that’s not me.”

“You should be you.” You pout at him, although you really mean your words. He should be free to be who he wants to be. Leaning in and kissing his chin. “Love who you want, fuck who you want.”

Dieter snorts, reaching up with his free hand to gently grip your chin, “it’s the 50’s. No one can truly be who they want to be. I couldn’t love a man, or publicly announcing that I’m fucking one. My career would be over. Just like you couldn’t be known to be anything but a perfect angelic virgin. It’s the social standard so we smile and wave and pretend but at night, we crawl to our dens of dissolute and allow ourselves the pleasures we deny during the daylight hours. It’s the life we lead and it’s fine.” He promises, leaning in to softly kiss your lips, “you understand, don’t you baby?”

Your heart aches because you know that he’s telling the truth. “I understand.” You whisper quietly, nodding as you break the kiss. “Though I believe in being happy, as much as you can be.” Hopefully he will find happiness around you and that will make your assignment easier.

He nods, leaning in to nudge his nose against yours. “We can be happy tonight if you want.” He pulls back when the waiter sets the drinks down and he pulls a note from his wallet to hand it to him. When he leaves, he turns back to you, “there’s a private area in the back. Men and women…all for our pleasure. Do you want to explore with me?” Dieter asks, raising his eyebrows with hopefully eyes while he bites his lip.

You know that the studio would prefer that he not go back to the back, but you can’t deny him. “Do you want to be split roasted or do you want to be on the giving end of split roasting me?” You ask, curious as to the answer he will give you.

Dieter’s eyebrows raise even more and he can’t stop the naughty grin that appears on his face. “Well, Jesus Christ, you are a naughty little girl.” He teases and leans in to softly kiss your ear, “I want to be on the giving end with you. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about how tight and wet your little cunt must be so if you want me, baby doll, I wanna fuck you and have some help to ensure you leave here high on pleasure.”

He smirks, cock already hardening, and he nods, picking up his glass to clink it against yours. “I say we better drink up and get back there.” He winks and downs the whiskey, slamming the glass down on the table then he shuffles out of the booth and holds his hand out towards you, “come on baby doll, let’s have some fun.”

You give him your hand and flash him a smile. “I’m ready to have fun with you.” You promise, biting your lip as he helps you to your feet. You curl into his embrace and look excited even though butterflies swim in your stomach.

Dieter guides you back through the throng of people and he knocks three times on the door, the peephole in the middle opens and finally the door is opened to the private rooms of the club. He winks at the doorman and takes your hand in his to guide you to the main room, full of men and women in various states of undress. Some kissing, some sucking, some fucking. It’s a den of desire and you don’t know where to look. “Okay?” Dieter asks, wanting to make sure you’re comfortable.

“There are private rooms. Let’s find a space in the observers and see who you wish to share your delicious cunt with.” Dieter suggests and guides you over to the lush seating area with large chairs. Dieter sits down and wastes no time pulling you into his lap, his hand sliding along your stocking clad leg under your skirt, “you see anyone you like?” He murmurs into your ear, pressing a kiss against your neck.

It’s hard to concentrate and look around the club as you enjoy his hand on your body. You shiver and hum speculatively as you manage to take a look at all the men and women that are milling around. You spot several famous faces and you bite your lip, cunt bottoming out when you see someone you have always admired pull off a robe and lay down on a table to let any and all touch her. You spot a man in the corner of the room, still dressed and watching as he sips a drink. “What about him?” You ask, turning and nudging your nose against Dieter’s cheek as you speak. “Have you fucked him? Does he have a nice cock?” 

Dieter smirks, “no. I haven’t. He’s nice though. Pensive. Moody. I like that. Those are the ones that fuck well. You wanna call him over?” Dieter asks, knowing the man will come over. You nod, catching the man’s eyes and you gesture for him to come over with a sultry smile. Dieter’s hand slides higher, “you excited to get fucked?” He hums into your ear, biting down on the lobe.

You moan softly, enjoying the sharp nip of his teeth. “Yes.” You admit breathlessly. “I’ve wondered what you were like in bed, watching you onscreen.” You might not have before, but it seems that he likes your answer.

The man gracefully makes his way through the gyrating crowd. Dieter pulls away from you, standing up to greet the man. "Lance." He greets the stunt man who he has seen around the studios. ‘"Bravo." He nods at Dieter, shaking his hand. 

"Have you two met?" Dieter asks, saying your name and the stunt man shakes his head. 

He reaches for your hand, bringing it to his lips, "I would definitely remember if I had met her." He winks at you after he stands up straight but keeps your hand in.

“Flatterer.” You tease, even though you find him even more handsome in person than you had from afar. “Can we buy you drink, Lance?” You ask playfully, looking over to Dieter for approval. “Have you sit down and discuss all manner of pleasurable things?” Dieter approves, the way he is leaning in to hear Lance’s answer is indicative of that.

Lance nods and Dieter gestures to the passing cocktail waitress. He orders your whiskey with a twist, his own tipple, and Lance orders a whiskey too. The waitress rushes off and Dieter shuffles down the couch, pulling you into his lap to show his possession of you while Lance sits beside you both. “So are you seeking here tonight?” Dieter asks Lance whose hand finds your knee. “I want you both.” Lance says, “I want to taste you, to fuck you.” He says and Dieter leans in to press his lips to Lance’s.

You should be discouraging the behavior that Dieter is displaying, that’s what the studio wants you to do, but you moan at the sight of the two men kissing. “Yes.” You whimper, sliding your hand into Lance’s lap and squeezing his hardening cock as you grind your as against Dieter’s. “Why don’t we find a private room?”

Lance pulls away from Dieter’s mouth to look at you, “let’s, but first.” He surges forward to press his lips to yours and Dieter groans as he watches the kiss, getting a little greedy as he surges forward to join the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours and Lance’s.

You’ve never had a kiss that involved three people but it’s intoxicating. Gasping, your tongue joins the fray and you enthusiastically kiss each of them as you massage Lance’s cock even more. You feel Dieter’s fingers pressing against your clit, making you whine softly, grinding against his hand for friction.

The kiss ends when Lance and Dieter pull back, their cocks aching, and Dieter looks up as the cocktail waitress appears, “thanks doll. We want a private room.” He says and she nods, taking the crisp bills he gives her and she tells you to follow her to the private room, she will take your drinks.

Standing, you smirk when both men need to adjust their cocks when they stand and you make sure that you sway your hips enticingly as you follow the waitress. You want both men to have their eyes fixed on your ass as they trail behind you. Feeling emboldened by their obvious lust, you walk into the private room eagerly and spin around to watch them walk on.

Dieter thanks the waitress when she sets the drinks down and she shuts the door behind her, the bed in the middle of the room is clean and made up, and there’s chairs and a small bathroom attached. “Now, where were we?” Dieter smirks, picking up his whiskey. 

“We were talking about pleasure.” Lance says and you smirk, fingering the buttons of your dress. “Are you gonna give us a show, baby girl?” Dieter asks, sitting down on the foot of the bed while Lance sits in the nearby chair.

You hadn’t anticipated stripping in front of them, but the excitement in Dieter’s eyes has you nodding, but you smirk slightly. “Both of you take something off first, then I will.” You tease, flicking open the first button of your dress and revealing more of your cleavage.

Dieter chuckles, liking your moxie again, and he shrugs off his jacket, working on his tie and the buttons of his shirt so he is shirtless, his slacks still on. Lance follows suit, shrugging off his blazer and he sits back down on the bed, his chiseled chest on display..

Dieter groans, his fingers twitching at how gorgeous you are. A true movie star. Beautiful and so fucking sexy. He hisses your name and Lance swallows harshly, cock throbbing in his pants. “Are you going to show us what’s beneath that pretty brassier?” He asks and Dieter shakes his head. “We should assist.” He says as he sets his whiskey down and stands up, kneeling down in front of his knees so he can reach out to unclip your stocking, slowly rolling it down your leg until he removes your heel and the silk.

“Dieter.” You whisper as his lips graze your thighs. It’s hedonistic and thrilling to feel both men’s eyes on your body and know that despite they want each other, they also want you. Your core is throbbing and you crook your finger towards Lance suggestively. “You want to remove it, baby?” You coo.

He nods, “I’ll take it off.” He steps behind you, placing soft kisses to the nape of your neck as his fingers work on removing your bra. “So fucking beautiful.” He murmurs, kissing along your neck and he tosses your bra aside so he can cup your tits. Dieter has rolled your other stocking down and is pressing his nose to your underwear, groaning at the heady scent of you before he mouthes at your cunt through the silk.

You feel deliciously cared for and moan when Dieter’s hot breath washes over your covered cunt. “Do you do that?” You lean back against Lance and tangle your fingers into Dieter’s curly hair. “Eat a woman’s cunt?” He’s mentioned sucking a cock, but perhaps he is like most men who find a cunt unappealing to lick. It was hypocritical of them in your opinion, but you also never insisted.

Dieter snorts, pulling back to look up at you. “Are you fucking kidding me, baby doll? I love pussy. I love eating pussy.”  He promises and hooks his fingers in your panties so he can pull them down, his face soon buried in your cunt as his tongue slides through your folds. “Fuck you taste good.” He groans while Lance pinches your nipples.

“Fuck, Dieter.” His name is a sob on your lips as he manages to make your entire body shake. You turn your head and kiss Lance’s jaw as he palms your tits and makes you feel like you are the star of your own show. “Feel even better inside.”

Dieter doesn’t deny you, grabbing your leg to lift your thigh onto his shoulder so he can slide his tongue inside of you, his nose pressing against your clit. “Fuck, does she taste good?” Lance asks and Dieter pulls back to smack his lips, “she’s fucking delicious.” He groans, diving back in.

“Oh fuck.” You moan, turning and pressing your lips to Lance’s desperately. Wanting to do more than just take from the men. Your hand slides down behind you and you fumble with the zipper of Lance’s slacks. Desperate to pull his hard cock out and stroke it while Dieter licks your cunt. “Pull- pull your cock out.” You beg against his lips.

Lance won’t deny you. He lets go of you, reaching down to fumble with his slacks, opening them to pull his cock out for you. His hands find your tits again and you whimper, wrapping your fingers around his cock. Dieter continues lapping at your cunt, sucking on your clit as he tries to send you over the edge.

Your eyes flutter closed, twisting your wrist so you can pump the thick girth in your hand and your hips cant towards Dieter’s mouth. “Oh fuck, oh this is- this is so good.” You moan quietly. “I- I’m gonna cum.” You warn the men.

Dieter desperately wants you to cum. His tongue diving deep, curling inside of you while his fingers grip your thigh and he groans when you finally cum, clamping down on his tongue and soaking his face with your juices. He laps up every drop he can get while you moan his name. Lance groans at the sounds you make, twitching in your loosened grip and he reluctantly pushes your hand away so he can pull Dieter up after the actor lowers your leg. He pulls Dieter close so he can press his lips to his, wanting to taste you.

You pant, watching the two men kiss and you decide you want a taste of your own. Dropping down to your knees, you wrap your fingers around Lance’s cock before you press your tongue to the leaking tip to lap at the juices building up. Making him groan and push into your mouth a little more.

Lance groans into Dieter’s mouth and the actor fumbles to unbutton his pants, pulling his aching cock out. Lance immediately takes his hard cock in his hard, jerking him off while you suck on the stuntman’s length. Dieter’s tongue tangles with Lance’s while he pleasures and gets pleasured.

You pull off Lance’s cock after a moment and take the head of Dieter’s length into your mouth after batting the other man’s hand away from it. Groaning as you have a hand on each man’s cock and start to massage the base of each one. You flick your tongue over the tip of Dieter’s before you pull back and take Lance back into your mouth.

“Jesus Christ.” Dieter groans, looking down at you and Lance takes the chance to kiss along his neck, biting down softly on his jaw. “She’s gorgeous.” He murmurs, stroking your cheek as you look up at the men. “I want to fuck you baby doll. Get on the bed and Lance can fuck your throat while I fuck you if you want that.” Dieter murmurs, giving you the choice.

You kiss the tip of Dieter’s cock and nod as you let go of both men’s girth. “I want that.” You promise breathlessly, biting your lip. Lance helps you up and you move over to the bed and get onto it, on all fours. Looking over your shoulder, you shake your ass at both men. “Come on, pretty boys, I’m starting to get lonely over here.”

Lance comes over, smacking your ass, and he wastes no time kneeling on the bed so you can take his cock back into his mouth. Dieter comes over, kneeling on the bed behind you and he caresses your spine. “I’ll pull out.” He promises, smacking your ass cheek before he’s gripping his cock, positioning himself at your entrance and slowly pushing inside of you.

You moan sounds out around the stuntman’s length, your back bowing slightly as Dieter stretches you out. It’s been longer than you care to admit since you’ve had a lover, appearances needing to be kept up for the studios. Still, you enjoy the fullness and push your hips back as he bottoms out inside you.

Dieter closes his eyes, jaw dropping at the feel of you, and he starts to move inside of you. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful.” He murmurs, caressing your hips before he grabs them, rocking inside of you and each rock pushes Lance’s cock deeper down your throat.

It’s filthy and wicked, while you aren’t pure, this is the first time you have been between two men. Your acting making you seem much more confident than you actually are, but you find that you love it. Moaning, you wrap your hand around Lance’s cock and pump the base while you take him deeper.

Dieter groans as he watches you take the other man’s cock into your mouth. It’s dirty and so naughty, everything the studio doesn’t want you to be. He fucking loves it. Lance does too by the look on his face and Dieter can’t help but reach for him, grabbing his neck to pull him across to press his lips to his.

Both men coming together means that they are surging deeper inside you. Pressing close and you feel yourself start to gag on the cock in your mouth but you quickly start to swallow around him. Enjoying the way they moan together above you and you wish that you had a studio camera to film this so you can see how they look.

Your cunt tightens around Dieter and he chuckles into Lance’s mouth, pulling back for a second. “Oh she loves this.” He murmurs and moves forward again to slide his tongue against Lance’s, his hands finding your hips again, his cock pushing harder and faster. He wants to feel you cum around him.

It’s hard to concentrate on the cock in your mouth when Dieter starts to fuck you hard and fast. His cock shredding up inside you and pressing against something wonderful that makes you eager to push back. Eyes watering and your lipstick smeared, you don’t care how you look as long as the delicious pressure continues to build up inside you.

Dieter and Lance pull back from the kiss, looking down at you and Lance groans as you hollow your cheeks around his cock. “That’s it baby. That’s it. Fuck, gonna make me cum.” He warns you, not sure if you want to swallow his cum or not.

You hum, looking up at him through your lashes and you continue to press him deeper into your throat. Pressing the tip of your nose to his torso and barely being tickled by the groomed hairs around his cock. You want him to cum down your throat, wanting to taste him.

“Fuck fuck fuckkkk.” Lance groans, his cock throbbing as he cums down your throat. You swallow as much as you can and Dieter watches in awe as Lance cums. “That’s it baby doll. Good girl. So good.” Dieter coos, caressing your back and he groans when your cunt flutters around his cock.

You want Dieter to cum, to have him moan in pleasure like Lance is. You clench down around him and while you are still swallowing, you push your hips back to encourage him to fuck you harder.

Dieter doesn’t want to cum until you do, his hand sliding under you to find your clit and he rubs it while he’s fucking into you. Lance groans, needing to pleasure you so he shifts onto his back, sliding under you and his tongue finds your clit, pushing Dieter’s hand aside. “Fuck.” Dieter groans as he grabs your hip again to fuck you harder, needing you to cum.

“Oh my goddddddd.” You whine, rocking your hips down and panting. You can’t take much more, the pleasure building up to the point where you screaming out when you start to cum.

Dieter hisses when you clamp down on his cock, making him groan your name and Lance shifts, licking at where you and Dieter are joined, your cum dripping into his mouth and he reaches up to fondle Dieter's balls. "Fuck, fuck, I'm gonna -" Dieter barely managers to pull out, gripping his cock as he spurts his hot seed onto your ass and lower back.

You whine, enjoying the way that he had felt inside you. Missing the way he had filled you as you continue to come. “Dieter, fuck baby.” You pant, dropping down to your elbows.

Lance groans, shifting out from under you and he leans in to lick a line of Dieter's cum from your flesh. "Fuck baby." Dieter grunts, leaning down to bite your ass cheek, lapping at your quivering pussy to taste you again.

Lance nods, "so fucking good." He agrees and when Dieter lifts his head, he surges forward to kiss the actor again. Dieter grabs the back of his neck, keeping him close so he can kiss him passionately, both men still tingling from their orgasms.

Turning on your side, Dieter’s cum still on your ass, you watch the two men kiss. Still feeling euphoric at the sensations you experienced and wondering why this could be so wrong.

“So fucking good.” Dieter groans and leans down to kiss you after Lance pulls back. He shifts off of the bed and goes into the bathroom to grab a rag for you to clean up. Lance follows him, caressing his back and he washes himself up while Dieter takes care of you. “You enjoy yourself, baby doll?” He asks while he cleans his cum off of you.

“I did.” You bite your lip and are a little unsure of how well you managed to satisfy the two men. “Did you both enjoy yourselves?” You ask, looking between Dieter and Lance.

Lance nods, “I enjoyed it, sweetheart. I don’t - I don’t usually like to penetrate unless it’s someone like him.” Lance winks at Dieter, hoping you catch his drift, “but you were fucking delicious.” He leans down to softly kiss you. “Hopefully we do this again sometime.”

You kiss him back, reaching up to caress his cheek. “Anytime.” You tell him saucily and winking when he pulls back. You stretch out and hum contentedly. “What do you think, Dieter baby?” You coo, trailing a finger down your breast.

Dieter bites his lip, “it was fucking fantastic baby.” He promises and admires your form as you stretch out. Lance grabs his clothes, starting to redress. “I better go. I have an early call tomorrow.” Lance says and pecks your lips once he’s dressed and he kisses Dieter once again. “See you around handsome.” He winks and carefully exits the room, leaving you and Dieter alone. “You wanna get dressed and get back out there or do you wanna order some drinks and stay in here?” He asks, grabbing his briefs to pull them up.

“What do you want to do?” You ask softly. “I’m with you tonight. Whatever you want, I’m game.” You promise. Your goal is to make him want to be around you and you can’t do that if you make him annoyed or bored.

Dieter leans in to kiss you, his hand caressing your body. “I wanna stay with you. Right here. I wanna make you cum again and then I want to take you home and make you cum again.” He smirks, knowing he’s not gonna want to let you go now that he’s got you. You’re gorgeous and kinky and everything he loves in a woman. This is the beginning of something beautiful.

****

“Fuck baby.” You moan, looking over your shoulder at Dieter as he rocks into you. Your hands are wrapped around the posts of the headboard of the bed you spend more time in than your own. For the past three months, you and Dieter have constantly been together, onset and off and the studio execs are happy that their star has been staying out of trouble. “Harder, baby.” You beg, clenching down around him. “Want to cum all over you.”

“Take it. Oh fuck. Give it to me. Wanna feel you gush, baby doll.” Dieter groans, his fingers digging into your hips and his mouth hanging open as his stomach tingles with his own near climax. “Cum for me.” He chokes, needing you to do it.

You don’t have too much longer before you are doing just that. Your legs kick up between Dieter’s and your toes curl in pleasure. Your cry of his name is something his neighbors around him should be well used to hearing now, since you cry it out every night. “Cum inside me.” You begs, twisting the sheets up in your hands. “It’s safe. Please baby, let me feel you.”

He can’t deny. Fuck, he can’t deny you anything. He pants, his hips pushing into your ass and he clenches his eyes shut as he cums, burying his cock deep inside of you. He groans loud and proud as he paints your walls for the first time. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuckkkkk.” He groans, his hips slamming against your ass and he pants as he rides out his high.

The liquid heat of his pleasure fills you. Making you moan as it reaches every inch of your womb and coats your insides. “Fuck baby.” You whimper, biting your lip to keep from saying something stupid, something you know you shouldn’t say or feel but you do anyway. “So good, you’re so good to me, Dee.” You pant instead.

He kisses along your spine, “you’re so goddamn perfect, baby doll.” He murmurs between kisses, reluctant to pull out of you. He wants to stay buried inside of your warmth forever. He grunts as he pulls out of you, leaning back on his haunches to see his cum drip from your pussy and that makes his spent cock drip. “Goddamn beautiful.” He sighs and shifts to lay down beside you. “Darling girl, you want something to eat?” He asks, pulling you into his chest.

You curl up on his chest and sigh, smiling slightly. Dieter is surprisingly attentive for someone who had honed such a bad boy, playboy persona. “Later.” You hum softly. “I was thinking we could stay in tonight?” You caress his chest and bask in the pleasurable afterglow of his attention. Your entire body is lovingly sore from how pent up he was. Apparently you had been teasing him all day on set. “Maybe I could make you dinner? Or a midnight snack?” 

Dieter caresses your spine, “sure. You wanna have pasta? My housekeeper made me some. We can heat it up.” He suggests and you shake your head. “I can’t eat pasta. I - the studio has given me a list of things to eat. Salads, boiled chicken. Vodka or water. I need to keep my weight down.” You explain and Dieter pulls back to look down at you, “what the fuck? Boiled chicken? You’re joking, right?” He shakes his head in disbelief.

Snorting, you roll your eyes. “You know how it is. All the female actresses are strictly controlled. Why do you think I never eat anything but a salad when we go out?” You ask. “They measure me every morning and put me on a scale. If I’m too heavy, I cannot have lunch. Just smokes.”

“Jesus. I- I didn’t know it was that bad. I thought that they had you taking pills.” He shakes his head again, “you can’t not eat. Salad? That’s fucking rabbit food. You should be able to control your body, not the studio. That’s bullshit, baby.”

“I refused the pills.” You admit. “I didn’t like how they made me feel.” You’ve avoided doing any drugs with Dieter and surprisingly, he’s been okay with that. “That’s why my whiskey order changed to vodka. I hate vodka, but it’s all I can have.”

Dieter nods, having noticed you switched to clear liquor. “Baby doll, it’s crazy they dictate like that. I wish there was something I could do.” He sighs, pouring slightly as he looks at you. He does drugs, coke mainly, and you are such a good girl compared to him, so sweet and kind. He doesn’t deserve you really.

He sighs, knowing this isn’t the end of the conversation but he can’t do anything about it tonight so he pulls you closer, kissing your forehead and he closes his eyes as he breathes you in. You’ve become his home, his safe space, and he’d do anything to protect you. Z

You know that he’s relaxed now and you sigh softly. It’s gotten more complicated now. Far different from the day you had met Dieter. You were shown a side of him that no one else got to see except for in small glimpses. You’ve fallen in love even though you know that the studio has an expiration date set for your relationship. They want him single, so the press knew nothing of your nights out on the town.

****

“You want a drink, baby doll?” Dieter asks, walking over to his bar cart to pour himself a whiskey. You have taken to staying at his place nearly every night and he doesn’t complain when he gets to have you in his bed. The movie is coming along, the romance going extremely well thanks to your chemistry on set and Dieter finds himself more centered on his character, able to remember his lines better. Probably because he’s not out until the early hours having sex with strangers and snorting cocaine. He doesn’t know when it happened but he only wants you, can only think of you.

You shake your head, giving him a soft smile. “I shouldn’t.” You tell him, pressing your hand to your stomach. “They said I’m gaining some weight so I need to cut back on the drinking.” You roll your eyes and shrug. “But if you kiss me after you drink, I can taste it from your tongue.”

Dieter frowns, "gaining weight? You look fucking gorgeous. I can't wait to see the edits of you from today." He says, leaning in to peck your lips after he prepares a whiskey, sliding his tongue into your mouth so you can taste the liquor.

You moan over the taste of the liquor and Dieter combined. It’s intoxicating, and you know that you need him. Curling your hand around his neck, you pour yourself into the kiss and slide another hand down to cup his flaccid cock through his pants.

He groans into your mouth, cock starting to harden under your grip. He can’t help it, you’re too tempting for him. “Fuck baby doll. You want me to fuck you?” He asks breathlessly, kissing along your jaw, careful to not leave any marks.

“Always want you to fuck me.” You whine, closing your eyes and enjoying the way that his lips map the perfect spots to make you hum in pleasure.

Dieter doesn't deny you, wanting you just as much. His hands are everywhere, squeezing your tits, squeezing your ass. He can't touch enough of you as he hardens in your grip. “Let me fuck you baby.” He pleads, his hands sliding under your dress to push under your silk panties, finding your clit. “Already wet for me.”

“Always wet for you.” You pant breathlessly. Holding onto his arms as he rubs your clit exactly how you like for it to be rubbed. “Baby, you do that so good. Always make me feel so good.” You’ve been insatiable lately and luckily Dieter has been completely up to fucking you whenever you want.

He hums, loving hearing your praise. So unlike the harshness he experienced in the industry. Almost everything he does is wrong. He shifts his fingers to push Teo inside of you, wanting you to cum first for him like this. “Baby doll. You’re so good to me. Always- fuck - always want you.” He murmurs when you squeeze his cock.

You ignore the worries that you have, the truth that you are hiding from him as the magic of his touch takes over. Pushing it away to focus on him. “Fuck Dee,” you whimper softly. “Love this, love you.”

It’s the first time you’ve said you love him and it makes him feel like he’s on top of the world, his heart pounding in his chest. “Wait-” He withdraws his fingers and pulls your hand away from his cock. “Did you- did you just say you love me?” He asks and you nod, biting your lip and he can see you’re nervous. He surges forward to press his lips to yours. “I love you, baby doll. I- fuck - you love me?” He asks, wanting to hear you say it.

“I love you, Dieter.” You cup his cheek and kiss him again. “I love you.” You do love him, even if you didn’t start out with this under the most honest of pretenses, you know that you do love him. Shocked that he loves you too, you beam at him.

He pulls you close, guiding you over to the sofa. “I want you to ride me.” He 

says, caressing your back until he’s working the zipper of your dress down to expose more skin to his eager eyes. “I want you to cum on my cock, baby.” He says, pushing the dress off of your shoulders until it’s pooling at your feet and he sits down on the sofa.

You watch as he starts to unzip his pants, pulling the shirttails out and up his stomach as he lifts his hips to push them and his briefs down. His cock is hard, springing up to slap against his skin as he watches you push your panties down and instead of taking off your bra, you straddle his thighs, eager to sink down on him. “Fuck I love your cock.” you coo softly. “You fill me up so fucking good.” 

He groans when you grip his cock, sinking down on top of him. “Fuck baby doll. Look at you.” He hisses, watching you take his length inside of you. He could do this for hours, just watch you ride his dick. “So fucking pretty.” He coos, cupping your cheek and he brings you close so he can press his lips to yours again.

Kissing Dieter has become so very natural to you. Both on set and off. You seemingly always are nearing to kissing him or just coming from kissing him. Still, every time makes you shiver slightly and wish that you were able to keep him. “I love you.” you murmur softly as you start to move, riding him slowly and enjoying the way he stretches you out. Perhaps this will count as exercise. 

His hands caress you, wanting to touch more of you, and he’s quick to unclasp your bra while you work on unbuttoning his shirt. He leans in to kiss along your chest once your bra is slung across the room and his lips are wrapping around your nipple as you start to slowly ride him.

“Dee!” Your fingers dig into his hair and you try to gently pull him away. You’re sensitive and want to kiss him again. “So good baby, kiss me.” You beg softly, knowing he will give in if you want your lips on his.

He reluctantly pulls away from your breast so he can lean in to kiss you. His tongue immediately slides into your mouth. The shitty tattoos on his chest he got while drunk during his brief stint in the army before he was dismissed just after training are under your touch and he knows you can feel his heart beating.

It becomes soft and sweet. Something that is very different from the energetic fucking that normally happens. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you rise and sink on his cock while you kiss him. It’s as close to making love as you’ve ever had with him and you want to savor it. 

It’s slower than usual but he loves it. He honestly never imagined he’d find someone to love in this hell hole of a town. The majority of people just wanted him to see where he could take them. He doesn’t want that. He wants someone to want him, Dieter, not the actor. His tongue slides against yours, languid and leisurely as you ride his cock. His hands caress your back and come up to squeeze your breast.

You moan softly, not hurt but it’s still tender as he squeezes. You don’t stop him from enjoying your breasts, knowing how much he enjoys playing with your tits. Your walls clench down around him and you whimper when he pinches your nipple softer than he normally does. “Dee,” You bite his ear lobe and scratch your nails against his scalp as you bury them into his hair. “Love you.” 

“Love you. Fucking love you.” He murmurs and his cock twitches inside of you. “I want you to cum for me.” He pleads softly, reaching down to rub your clit, wanting to feel you soak him. “Cum for me baby doll.” He begs, his voice a little whiny but he can’t help himself.

Instead of being explosive so you gush all over him, your orgasm is soft. Still no less devastating than your normally orgasms in his arms. Stiffening, your cunt clamps down around him and you moan his name softly.

Your orgasm is slow but you clamp down on his cock and he loves it. “Fuck. So beautiful, baby. So fucking beautiful.” He groans and he grabs your hips, thrusting up into you. He is close, overwhelmed by the emotion, and he thrusts a half dozen more times before he’s pulling you down onto his cock and painting your walls with his seed.

He smiles, feeling like he’s finally home when he’s in your arms. You caress him and he feels like he can take on anything as long as he has you. He gets to spend all his time with you and he’s worried that when the movie is finished filming, that you won’t want to see him anymore. A silly fear that’s been abated by you saying you love him but it’s still there, his insecurities. He pulls you close, breathing you in, and he kisses your hair.

****

“I have to tell the producer, I need to let out your dress.” The head of the wardrobe department shakes her head as she looks at you in the mirror. Your skintight dress doesn’t zip up end you know why, although you hadn’t said a word to anyone, not even Dieter. “You can’t tell them.” You beg immediately, nearly frozen in fear. “Please, I’m- im pregnant.”

She looks at you for a second, eyes wide, and she knows what will happen if the studio finds out. “How far along are you?” She asks, “about five months.” Her eyes dip down, “you’re carrying small. Just looks like you’ve eaten a big meal. Is it- it’s Bravo’s?” She guesses. Everyone on set knows about your dalliance with the leading man. You nod and she bites her lip, knowing that if she tattles, you’ll be forced to abort, even at five months. “I’ll let the dress out. I won’t tell anyone.” She vows, knowing she can’t betray you when you’re such a kind woman in an industry full of demanding witches.

“Thank you- thank you.” You turn around and reach for her hands. “I cannot ever repay you.” You gush, nearly in tears with gratitude. You know what this industry is like and what they will do. They forced Judy to get an abortion, and they wouldn’t hesitate to do it to you. “I promise I have been watching what I eat so I don’t gain much.” You promise her quietly. “But my breasts are getting bigger.”

“We will fix it, sweetheart.” She promises, knowing she can’t do much but she can take the dresses out. “Only five more weeks of shooting. You will need to be careful.” She warns you, having seen too many tragedies when it comes to pregnant actresses. You nod, squeezing her hands in thanks and she grabs her measuring tape to take your new measurements so she can take out your costumes.

It doesn’t take long for her to re-measure you, making you feel a lot better and you put on your dressing gown when she’s done. If anyone asks, the costume ripped and she’s mending it while she’s letting it out. You leave wardrobe and move over to the beverage cart, pouring yourself a water and resisting the urge to light a cigarette. You’ve heard it could be bad for babies, so you’ve quit.

Dieter walks through the halls of the studio looking for you. Script in hand and smoke hanging from his mouth, he’s trying to find you to discuss the script changes from the writers and he finds you in your dressing room. “Damn baby girl.” He murmurs, setting his script down and taking a drag of his smoke as his eyes trail along your front. “Gorgeous as always.”

You smile as you look at him, handsome as always and it’s by sheer will that you don’t reach down to touch your stomach. The baby has started moving and it makes you feel incredibly emotional every time. It also seems to be when Dieter is around. “Hey baby.” You walk over to him, trying to ignore the smell of the smoke, it’s started disagreeing with you. “They are having to work on my dress, there was a tear in it.”

He hums, leaning in to kiss you. “Probably me.” He jokes, knowing you’ve had a few quickies between shooting scenes. You chuckle and he kisses along your neck, “you read the revisions?” He asks, picking up the script. “They want us to do some running shit. Want you to run after me.” He says, handing the paper to you.

“Running?” You hadn’t looked at the revisions, too busy with the wardrobe department, but you take the script and look it over as Dieter continues to kiss you. “Why? There shouldn’t be running.”

“It’s some new love scene. They want you to chase me when I get into the taxi. Want you to scream at me that you love me but I don’t hear you. I ride off until we reunite.” He says between kisses to your neck, “you gotta scream out that you loveeee me.” He teases against your skin.

“Ohhhh noooo.” You hum, smiling because you know he is grinning as he continues to kiss you. “It will be so hard to act that out.” Your hands on his waist slide around his back and you lean into him for a moment. You are worried about the running, but it shouldn’t be too bad. You’ve been moving a lot and it’s not like you have to be in bed the entire time you are pregnant. As long as you don’t fall, you should be good.

Dieter smirks, leaning in to softly kiss you. “You are so beautiful.” He murmurs, “you fucking know that, right?” He asks you, his dark eyes burning into yours. “Most beautiful woman here and I’m so lucky to have you, baby doll.” Dieter murmurs against your jaw.

“I love you, Dieter.” You whisper softly, wanting him to know that you love him and not just something you are saying for the movie. “I think we need to lock the door of my dressing room and have some fun before we film. What do you say?”

“I like the way you think.” Dieter smirks, pulling away from you to lock your dressing room door behind him and he reaches for you, pulling you into his arms so he can kiss you properly. Smoke spirals from the smoke he abandoned in the ashtray and his tongue slides against yours while his hands squeeze your ass.

You moan softly, aware that you have to be quiet. Everyone is aware of your relationship on set but you don’t publicly display it. Your body aches for him, the boost to your libido insane during the pregnancy that the father of your child doesn’t even know about. Dieter’s hand dives for the ties to your dressing gown but you shake your head. “No time to get undressed.” You murmur.

He can’t deny you anything. His hips pressing against your ass as he sets a harsh pace, the slapping sounds and your combined moans and pants the only sounds in the dressing room. “Always feel so fucking good.” He grunts, knowing that he can’t be anywhere else. He stopped going to orgies, stopped seeking out others. All he can think about is you. You. You. You.

“I love- fuck, I love you, Dee.” You will have to tell him. You need to tell him now, but you can’t. You’re afraid of what he might say, what he might tell the studio if you do. It won’t be too much longer until the movie is in the can and then you can tell him. If he decides he wants to leave you, so be it.

“Love you. So much, baby doll. Jesus, you - can’t stop thinking about you. All I fucking think about. Stopped taking goddamn drugs because they don’t compare to you. Only get high on you now.” He confesses, “I love you.” He grits his teeth, fucking into you a little faster.

His confession makes you cry out. Falling over the edge and clamping down around his cock, you soak him with your juices. Feeling the incredible flood of warmth seep through your veins and makes you slump against the table.

He hisses when you clamp down on him, never getting tired of how you feel, how you sound when you cum. “Fuck. Oh shit. Shit.” He curses as he thrusts a half dozen more times before he’s pushes deep and cumming inside of you with a hiss of your name. Painting your walls, he leans over you to kiss your neck.

“So good baby.” You whimper, closing your eyes and enjoying the way that he fills you up. “Fuck, I’ll never get tired of that.” You murmur quietly. “We should get married.”

He pulls out of you, spinning you around so you are looking at him. “You serious?” He asks, wondering if you are just rambling in the haze of your orgasm. “You want to be my wife?” He asks breathlessly. He knows he’s a difficult man to love. Hell, he changes his religion every other week. He isn’t easy to be around yet here you are, still here months later. “You wanna marry me?”

“I want to marry you.” You promise breathlessly. “I want nothing more than to marry you.” You want to tell him about the baby but you don’t. Figuring there will be time for that later. You don’t want him to think the only reason you ask him to marry him is because of the baby. “We can go to Vegas.”

Dieter cups your cheeks, “yeah? You wanna elope? I won’t have your daddy trying to shoot my ass?” He jokes softly and you shake your head, reaching up to caress his wrists. “I want to marry you.” You declare and Dieter grins, leaning in to softly kiss you. “I wanna marry you too. Let’s tell them you’re sick so we can get off set today. We can be in Vegas tonight to get married tomorrow.”

“Okay.” You giggle against his lips and nod. “I’ll tell them that I’m having horrible bleeding and cramps and cannot possibly run.” You tease,

Kissing him once more before pulling away. Everything seems perfect, completely in love with Dieter and about to go elope with him. You hope he never finds out about your deal with the studio because he would never forgive you.

****

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.” The officiant declares and Dieter wastes no time in pressing his lips to yours. “Mrs. Bravo.” He coos when he pulls back, grinning in awe that he’s married to you.

You kiss him desperately, clinging to his arms. “Mr. Bravo.” You bat your lashes at him playfully. “How does it feel to be a married man?” You ask, blissfully happy that he wanted to marry you.

He grins, kissing you softly. “It - it’s like I’m finally where I belong.” He admits quietly, the weight of his wedding ring on his finger is welcome and he leans in to press his forehead against yours. “I love you baby doll. Let’s go celebrate. Champagne!” He says, pulling back from you.

You giggle, knowing that you cannot have more than a sip of champagne but you can’t deny him. “Champagne and then I want to go back to the hotel with my husband.” You beg. Once you get back to L.A. you will have to pretend that you aren’t Dieter’s wife and take off the gorgeous ring he has slipped on your finger.

The champagne is popped once you’re back in your suite and Dieter wants tonight to be all about you both. No movie, no press, nothing but the two of you. He leans in to kiss you, loving how it feels to belong to you.

“I love you.” You promise him, smiling at him as you set your champagne down. You had one tiny sip, but you know that Dieter won’t notice once you start kissing. “I love my husband. Dieter Bravo.”

Fuck, he can’t get enough of hearing that. “Come on baby. Wanna make love to my wife.” He says, “my beautiful movie star wife.” He coos, “I’m a lucky son of a bitch.” He murmurs, pulling you into his lap.

You hum, making sure that you don’t squish your belly, and wrap your arms around him. “You love me?” You ask playfully. “Will you still love me when I’m old and fat?” You ask it as a joke, but you are worried that he won’t like your body once you have had your baby. He’s used to gorgeous men and women and it would break your heart if he rejected you.

Dieter snorts, “you gonna love me when I’m old and fat too? Im gonna be a miserable old fucker. You ready to deal with me?” He asks, caressing your back, “I’ll love you no matter what, baby doll.” He vows, knowing he’s been fickle his entire life but that’s because he was searching for something, for you.

“You are going to be distinguished.” You argue, running your fingers through his hair. “Your hair will be salt and pepper and you’ll still have adoring fans throwing themselves at you.” You pout, kissing his lips. “And I’ll still think you’re the most handsome man I’ve ever met.”

Dieter grins, pleased that you are saying that. “And you’d still be the most gorgeous fucking woman in Hollywood.” He assures you, his hands sliding down to squeeze your ass. “Are you gonna ride my cock, sweetheart? You wanna have married sex?” He teases, his fingers dipping beneath your dress.

“Yes.” You moan breathlessly. You have been riding him more, scared of him discovering your belly so it has been easier to mount him. He finds your panties easily and push them to the side. The short, white, sheath dress that was your wedding dress is bunched at your hips and covers your belly wonderfully.

Dieter groans when you reach down to take him out of his pants. He’s hard and aching for you. “Take what’s yours.” He orders, his brown eyes wide in awe as you sink down onto him. “Fuckkkk.” He hisses, head tilting back as you take him inside of you.

“I love you.” You pant breathlessly. “I love this cock. I love how you feel inside me, how you make me feel like the only woman in the world.” You babble as you take him deeper, spilling all the thoughts you’ve had since you’ve fallen in love with him. “I want you, only you.”

Dieter swears that his heart is about to explode out of his chest. He hisses, hands fumbling to squeeze your ass and he pants when you clench around him. “I love you. I want you, only you baby doll. Had me since the moment we met. The night we shared Lance. You are - fuck - the woman I’ve been waiting for. I love you. I love you.” He pants, swallowing harshly as he struggles to put into words how he feels about you. Ironic considering he’s an actor.

You moan his name and kiss along his neck. “I know, I love you. I love you too.” It’s all you can say, all you can feel beyond the utter bliss of having him inside you.

Your whimpers make him groan and he rocks up into you. “Cum for me baby. Want my wife to cum for me.” He pleads, his fingers digging into your flesh and he desperately wants to feel you cum for him.

Your body is sensitive, primed for an orgasm and it doesn’t take many more thrusts to give into it. Tossing your head back, you are confident that he will catch you as you cry his name. Riding out your orgasm with a whimper chant of it again and again.

“Good girl, baby doll. Such a good girl for me.” Dieter grunts as you flutter around his cock. He can’t help it, he needs to cum. Seeing his ring on your finger has him feral and he braces his feet so he can push up into you, “fuck fuck fuck. I love you, I love you, I love you.” He spits out at once until he’s cumming, painting your walls with his hot seed. Panting, he rests his forehead against your sternum, feeling surrounded by you.

You sigh happily, closing your eyes and smiling. Feeling like this is the perfect moment. Nothing is going to change the way you feel about Dieter and you know that he is the love of your life. “Perfect, baby.” You coo softly. “You are perfect and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

****

“You okay?” Dieter asks when you down the glass of water in between scenes. It’s been two months since you have been married, still living apart due to the studio but as soon as you are finished, you’ll be moving in with Dieter. Today is the last day of filming, the final scenes that got pushed back. You running after the cab.

“I don’t feel that good.” You admit, taking a handkerchief and patting your face where you are sweating. You’ve been feeling off since you woke up but you are still another month and a half from being due. The studio still has no idea, since you are carrying so small. It still just looks like you have eaten a large lunch and the wardrobe department has been magical at concealing your baby bump. “I’ll be okay.”

Dieter frowns, “maybe we shouldn’t do the scene today. I’m sure we can move it to tomorrow.” He doesn’t want you to exert yourself. It’s been a long shoot and he knows you must be exhausted. He is. 

The director shakes his head, “no, no. We get this done now. The studio is pissed off that we have gone over budget and time. This gets done today.”

“I’ll be fine.” You insist, shaking your head. You know that the sooner you get the movie in the can, the sooner you can tell the studio that you aren’t adhering to their deal anymore. You don’t care if the movie you’ve wanted to make forever never gets done or if you never work in Hollywood again. You want a life with your husband, your child. “What’s one scene? We’ll be done in no time.”

Dieter is concerned for his wife, the wedding ring he slides onto his finger every night and takes off every morning is in his pocket and he sighs as he steps aside, knowing you can’t be argued with. “ Honey, if it’s too much, we can move this to tomorrow. I don’t want you to get sick.“

Giving him a weak smile as another uncomfortable pain passes through you, you shake your head again. He has seemed to worry more about you since your elopement. It’s very sweet. “I’ll be fine. I want this movie to be done.” You give him a pointed look. “I have plans for this weekend.”

Dieter smirks, knowing what you’re talking about. You decided to take a mini break and rent a house on the beach, spend the weekend together since you are having to live apart. He winks at you and reaches for your hand to squeeze it. “Let’s get it done and then we are finished.” He says, offering you a smile despite the worry still being there.

After listening to the director’s wants for the scene, you step on your mark and wait as the car is started and Dieter climbs inside. “Action!” The call prompts you to cry out for your husband’s character and start waving your hands. “Stop! Stop! I love you!” As the car takes off, you start running forward.

Dieter is supposed to drive off but he looks behind him to wave like he’s supposed to and he sees you collapse. “Stop the fucking car!” He hisses, jolting when the driver slams on the brakes and he gets out, rushing over to you. “Baby, baby doll. What’s wrong? You okay?” He asks and the director shouts ‘cut’ but Dieter doesn’t hear it.

You are grasping your stomach and sobbing out in pain. “I- I’m pregnant!” You cry out and you know there is no way for everyone to find out now. There is a puddle of water underneath you where your water broke. Despite how early it is, the baby is coming. “I- I need - Dieter!” You scream as another pain rips through you, harder and more intense than any of the others.

“Pre-pregnant?” Dieter gasps, shocked and he shakes his head, “when? How? I- fuck. You’re pregnant?” Dieter yells and kneels down beside you, eyes wide with fear. “You’re pregnant?” He chokes, knowing it’s only him who could be the father.

“I’m- I’m sorry, I should have- have told you.” You pant out, trying to catch your breath. “I-I didn’t want- the studio- they- you know-“ you break off when another pain rushes over you and your teeth gnash together to keep from screaming again.

Dieter cannot believe you kept this from him. He’s beyond hurt but he can’t show that, knowing he has to keep strong in front of the studio. “Will someone call a fucking ambulance?” He shouts, getting desperate to make sure you’re okay. However upset he is, you’re his wife and he needs to make sure you’re okay.

A crowd is gathering around you, people wide eyes and whispering. You know there is no way this isn’t getting out. Reaching out, you grab Dieter’s hand, terrified that something had gone wrong and you’ve hurt your baby. “I-I love you.” You gasp out. “It’s- the baby is early.”

Dieter doesn’t respond, his mind whirling and he can’t focus when all he can think is “you’re pregnant.” His child. With his child. He can barely breathe himself and he squeezes your hand back, terrified and relieved when the paramedics make their way through the crowd to get to you.

Everyone gasps, glancing over at the producers and director who are equally shocked. Dieter ignores them, knowing he has to be with you, even if it’s to get answers, so he gets into the ambulance and holds your hand as the ambulance speeds away from the studio. “Eight months?” Dieter chokes, closing his eyes.

He hates the idea of being a father, your heart sinks and you close your own eyes to try to hold back a sob. “I’m sorry.” You whimper. “I-I was scared. I didn’t realize it until I- until we were serious and I didn’t want to sc-scare you too.” Tears of agony and sorrow leak out of the corner of your eyes.

“Why - why the fuck didn’t you tell me?” He chokes, confused and wondering why you haven’t told him. “We - we got married and you didn’t - you didn’t tell me. Jesus Christ, we have had sex. How didn’t I know?” He shakes his head, “I should’ve known. Jesus. Fuck. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I- if the studio found out, they would- you know they would have had me terminate it.” You need him to understand. “I didn’t- I know that I - I couldn’t risk them- I-“ you are cut off by the low, inhuman hiss that you let out, squeezing his hand. You sigh and pant when it passes. “I didn’t know until I was too far along and I knew the studio would tell you about the deal I made with them.”

Dieter frowns, “the deal? What deal?” He is confused, unsure of what the hell you’re talking about when you’re in labor with a baby he knew nothing about. He’s in pain and he wants to know what the fuck is going on.

Everything will come out and Dieter will hate you so it doesn’t matter now. You are crying and you hold onto his hand tightly. “When- when I met you, the studio told me that if I kept you out of the press, from-from behaving badly, they would finance the script I had written.” You confess, immediately rolling into another contraction that takes your breath away and leaves you unable to beg him for forgiveness.

Dieter rears back, his eyes wide and he slowly shakes his head in disbelief. “You- I- I don’t understand. You- we are married? We are - what the fuck?” He hisses, furious with the studio and with you for lying to him. You’re his wife and you didn’t think he deserved to know that you have been bribed into spending time with him.

“I know. I love you Dee, I love you, I promise.” You know he won’t believe you but you have to tell him. Your eyes beg him to believe you, “I don’t care if they blacklist me. I want to be with you. I want our baby. Our baby, Deeeeeeeee!” You cry out when another pain slams into you.

Dieter shakes his head, “I can’t believe - fuck.” He winces, feeling betrayed and yet you’re his wife. You’re about to have his baby. “I wish- why didn’t you tell me?” He chokes, tears stinging in his eyes. The ambulance comes to a stop at that moment and Dieter leans back so the paramedics can take you into the hospital.

You don’t answer him, you can’t answer him as you get caught up in the business of getting into the hospital. You want him with you but they won’t let him come back behind the double doors and you know that he has every reason to leave you. You might never see Dieter again.

Dieter is escorted to the father’s waiting room. He is itching for a smoke and one of the other dads-to-be hands him one.

“First?” He guesses and Dieter pauses for a second so he can light up the cigarette and he nods, exhaling the smoke. 

“Yeah.” He is still reeling from the barrage of bad news you’ve dumped on him and he swallows harshly, pacing as he tries to process what you’ve told him.

“It’ll be fine.” The man takes a drag off his own cigarette and blows it out. “My wife’s having our third. Little girl.” He looks over at the stack of magazines. “Bring a newspaper, though. Those magazines are at least five months old.”

Dieter rubs his forehead as he sits down, leaning between his legs, cigarette dangling between his fingers, the smoke curling into the air as he struggles to come to grips with the fact that he’s about to become a father, and his wife lied to him. “Thanks for the advice.” He snorts and the guy squints, adjusting his glasses. “Hey, ain’t you that actor guy?” He asks and Dieter sighs, “yeah. That’s me.” The guy grins, “no kidding. Wait till I tell my old lady who I met. Who’s the lucky lady?” He jerks his chin towards the ring Dieter subconsciously takes out of his pocket and slides onto his finger. Dieter says your name, knowing that the press will get hold of the news so it doesn't matter anymore to keep it a secret. “Her? She’s gorgeous. You’re a lucky son a bitch.” He says and Dieter snorts, taking another drag of his cigarette.

Inside the delivery room, you are sobbing for Dieter, panicked and desperate to talk to him, to have him nearby as the doctors refuse to tell you if the baby is okay. After too long pitching a fit, they knocked you out, drugging you.

Dieter hasn’t heard anything, starting to panic as he waits to hear from a doctor or nurse about you and the baby. His foot bounces up and down as the minutes tick by and he can’t take it. He stands up, the chair scrapping and he grabs the passing nurse. “I need to know what’s happening with my wife. Right now.” He demands, unable to take it any longer.

The nurse pulls her arm away from him and turns to start lecturing him, eyes widening when she recognizes the face of her favorite movie star. “M-Mr. Bravo.” Everyone in the labor department knows that the famous actress in labor had been calling for him until you were put to sleep to rest. The fact that you were married almost makes her speechless, but giddy to know something that hasn’t been reported. “Your wife has been unsettled and distressed so the doctor gave her something to help her rest. The baby was almost ready to come out. It will be just a little longer.” She assured him, taking his hand because she can say she touched a movie star.

Dieter looks down at her hand gripping his and immediately pulls it away. “So are they okay? No one is telling me anything.” He hisses, “I need to know if they are okay. Has the baby been born yet?” He asks and she shakes her head, “not yet.” Just as Dieter opens his mouth to respond, he hears his name called behind him. Turning, he sees the executives from the studio and he narrows his eyes, “what are you doing here?” He hisses, feeling betrayed by the producers and director who persuaded you to lie to him, to babysit him.

“Trying to contain this disaster.” The producer shakes his head, frowning heavily. “Luckily, the hospital staff can’t say anything, but have you talked to anyone? I don’t want this getting out. Stupid girl. She should have aborted the damn thing the second she found out she was pregnant. Her career is over.” His cold eyes flicker over to Dieter. “Although you will come away unscathed.”

Dieter can’t believe what they are saying. “Are you- are you fucking joking? This is my wife. My child. I- I didn’t know she was pregnant but I’m not just gonna walk away. We are married.” Dieter announces and the execs shake their heads. “No one gave you permission to be married.” Dieter snorts, “no because we didn’t need it because we are adults.”

“Well, we will get the marriage annulled.” He tells you dismissively. “While she was good at keeping you from fucking half of Hollywood, she fucked up. Marrying you, getting pregnant.” He scoffs and shakes his head. “No wonder she’s been quiet when I ask how things are going. She knew she wasn’t going to get her movie made. Although I’m still going to make it, just without her.”

“No. No. You can’t do that. She - it was me who came inside of her. I knew the possible consequences.” He reasons, “You cannot annul my marriage to her. I love her.” He chokes, still worried about you. 

“Love? You have fucked half of Hollywood and you expect us to believe you love her? Come on now, we are doing you a favor.” 

Dieter growls, reaching out to grab the executive by his collar, “don’t fucking test me right now. My wife is having our child and I don’t know what’s going on. I’ll spread you over the fucking floor.”

The director looks ready to jump in but the producer shakes his head. “Think carefully, Dieter. You’re a star because I want you to be.” He warns him. “Fight me on this and you’ll never make another movie. You’ll lose everything.”

Dieter growls, “fuck you.” He pushes him away, “you think you own me but you don’t. I’ll get work outside of this studio. I’ll - I’ll go to Warner.” He threatens, “don’t you fucking mess with me or my family.”

The studio exec scoffs and shakes his head. “They won’t take you. You’re a liability, Bravo. Why do you think I had to bribe your wife to spend time with you?” He asks, smirking. “She’s probably going to leave you anyway so why don’t you make a deal for yourself? Save something from all this.” He suggests, needing Dieter to agree in order to get the annulment.

Dieter can’t stop himself, he pulls his hand back and surges forward to punch the exec. For voicing his fears, that you will leave him eventually everyone does. “Owwww.” Dieter whines as soon as he punches, his hand aching and he whimpers, cradling it to his chest. “Fuck, that hurt. You’re gonna fucking leave.” He growls, “get out of this hospital otherwise I’ll call the security.” The other men in the room stand up, having seen Dieter’s worry and are prepared to help him kick those assholes out.

Shaking his head, the producer reached up and rubs his jaw. “You’re finished Bravo.” He spits. “I’ll make sure you never film another scene and your habits are known around town.” He warns, turning on his heels and stomping out of the waiting room, the director on his heels.

Dieter pants, his hand throbbing but the doctor walks into the room and he doesn’t give a fuck about anything other than hearing how you are. “What’s happening? How is she?” He asks and the doctor smiles, “congratulations, Mr. Bravo. You have a son. He’s small, but healthy. Would you like to see him?” He asks and Dieter nods, the other dad patting him on the back. “Congrats.” Dieter follows the doctor, “and my wife?” He asks, “she’s recovering.” He guides Dieter to the nursery and Dieter looks down at the baby wrapped up in a blue blanket.

Slowly blinking, you feel heavy, lethargic. Your mouth is dry and your body hurts as you start to do a mental tally on yourself. Head throbbing, you look around to realize that you are still in the hospital. “Hello?” You start to panic when you don’t hear anyone or see anyone in your room. You don’t expect Dieter stayed but you realize your stomach is flat and there’s no bassinet in your room. “Hello! Where’s my baby!”

"He needs to be with her." Dieter insists and the nurse doesn't deny him, wheeling the baby into the room you are in and you are crying. "Baby doll, what's wrong?" He asks, leaning in to kiss your forehead and wrapping his arms around you. "He's here. Our son. We have a son, sweetheart." Dieter murmurs against your skin.

“A son? He’s okay?” You gasp out through your tears, struggling through the after effects of the medication to sit up. “I need- I need to hold him. Please, let me see him.” You beg, wanting to hold your son and touch him after the trauma of his birth. “A son.” Blinking through the tears, you can’t believe that Dieter is here.

He doesn't hesitate to cradle the baby, carrying him over to you and you take him into your arms.Dieter sees you holding the baby and his eyes sting. He understands now why you took the risk to hide the baby from him, from the studio. He wouldn't have wanted the child, not at first, and you would've been forced to have an abortion. Looking at his son, there's no way he could deny how much he already loves him. "He's small, but healthy. They want to observe him to make sure he's okay to go home in a few days." Dieter explains, sniffing as he reaches out to caress the baby's head.

“He’s okay.” You start crying again, relief and joy that your son is okay making you emotional. “Oh, baby boy. I’m so sorry that I didn’t hold you right away.” You coo, looking down at him. Counting fingers and unwrapping his blanket so you can count toes. “You are so precious, gorgeous.” Looking up at Dieter, you hope that he loves him as much as you do. “I’m so sorry baby, I know- I know you must hate me.”

Dieter swallows harshly, knowing he should because you kept it from him, lied to him about why you even wanted to be around him in the first place. “Baby. I- I should hate you. I should. But I can’t because - because I understand. Doll, I know why you had to keep him a secret. I just wish you’d told me. All those nights together…how didn’t I figure it out? I- I feel fucking stupid.” He shakes his head.

“No. You aren’t stupid.” You insist. “I was carrying small. The wardrobe head only knows because my dresses were a little tight. Even she says she’s not seen someone change so little carrying a baby.” You had worried, but the secret doctor you had seen assured you that the baby was healthy. You had visited him privately and paid him well to keep from reporting back to anyone who mattered.

Dieter shakes his head and closes his eyes, “I- I don’t know - fuck. A baby. I- I never imagined I’d be a father.” He confesses, closing his eyes in pain.

“Oh.” Your heart drops and you don’t have anyone to blame but yourself. You had hidden the pregnancy from Dieter and lied about why you were interested in him when you first met. “I understand.” You choke out, trying to keep from crying. “I- it’s okay.” You hold your son close. “I don’t- I’ll sign whatever you want. You can pretend that you never- that this is just a bad dream for you. I’m going to move out of L.A. Make it easier for you. My career is over anyway.”

Dieter shakes his head, hating that you misunderstood him. “Baby no. No. I- I don’t want you to go. I don’t want to lose you or the baby. I love you. I love you so much and I - you’re the best thing I’ve ever had. Baby doll, don’t leave. Stay with me. We will figure everything out.” He chokes, leaning in to press his forehead against yours.

“I was going to tell you this weekend.” You admit quietly. “I wanted to tell you, I almost did so many times.” You hate that he is hurt, hate that you hurt him. “I love you, I love you so much Dieter, and I was so afraid I was going to lose you. You are kind, funny, sweet, generous. So much more than you show everyone and I’m so lucky that you chose me.”

Dieter shifts to brush your lips with his. “I love you. You and our son. Fuck, we have a son.” Dieter says, reaching down to stroke the head of the baby at your breast. “I want to start my own studio.” He announces after a few moments.

“You do?” Your eyes widen in shock and despite that, you know Dieter would do well. During your late nights together, you had talked about different artistic shots you would add. He was talented in ways that would translate into director or producer well. “That’s great!”

Dieter is pleased that you think it’s a good idea. He agrees and leans in to kiss you, “we will figure it out baby. We have the contacts. No one gives a fuck about who’s behind the desk. They only care about who’s on the screen.

“We’ll figure it out.” You agree, knowing that there will be a lot to work out, but as long as Dieter wants to be a family, you will help however he needs. “But right now, we need to name our little boy.”

Dieter shifts to sit beside you, wrapping his arm around you and still stroking the baby’s head. “What names do you have in mind, baby doll? You’ve had longer to think about it than me.” He says that with no malice but it’s true.

“I didn’t think about names.” You admit. “I didn’t know what we were having and I couldn’t really decide names to pick. What name are you thinking?” You would love for your husband to name your son.

“What about Edward? Eddie for short?” He suggests, “it was, uh, it was my father’s name.” He reveals, knowing you have heard Dieter talk about his mom but no word about his father who died when he was a young man.

“What about your dad’s name? That way he has both of us.” Dieter smiles as he looks down at the now sleeping baby. You nod, repeating your father’s name. “I love it.” He grins, leaning in to softly kiss you. “So does this mean no sex for a while?” He teases, nudging his nose against yours.

You chuckle quietly as your son sleeps in your arms. “No sex, but I think I owe you quite a few blow jobs.” You admit, smirking. “To make up for keeping everything from you.”

Dieter chuckles, kissing your hair, “we have the rest of our lives for blowjobs, baby doll.” He promises, closing his eyes as he rests his head against yours. He adores you and he knows you need to have a serious talk about everything you kept from him but he loves you. He wouldn’t change anything now. You and Edward are his next big project. Hollywood can wait, Dieter has finally settled down and many in Hollywood will mourn the news (men and women alike) but he has found his leading lady and he intends to keep her for the rest of his life.

[ellabsweet]

[ੈ✩] 𝐅𝐄𝐓𝐂𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐋𝐓 𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 • 𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐁𝐒

synopsis: in which you’re fooled.

pairing: rockstar!ellie x reader x rockstar!abby

warning: mentions of cheating and drug usage but i believe that is all ! let me know in case there’s anything i just wanted to put this out already because of the traction this is getting which is making me sososo happy thank you everyone i love you <3

authors note: ——

← previous part | next part →

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎: 𝐑.𝐈.𝐏 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐘 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐇

approximately two years earlier…

“Who’s the pretty girl?” Ellie asks after snorting a line of powder from the small bathroom’s sink, a banging to the door from an urgent adult being dismissed by her and the dealer.

“You’re gonna have to be more specific than that”

“Oh c’mon you know the one. Sad eyes girl who watched the whole show from her seat at the bar like we were a band worth shit, like we’re going to be someday”

“They call her bunny around here. ‘Cause you know, a cute shell for a sex addict, y’know some misogynistic shit. She’s a regular to all The Deadbeats show on this shitty bar, you only want to fuck her now? Get on some fan service?”

“You’re fucking gross, man. I just digged her vibe, is all”

What Ellie meant by that was, she saw her soul reflected in your eyes and it scared her shitless but not enough to go untouched by the exchange, drowning in curiosity and magnetism the drugs made sure to intensify your face in her mind as though a printed sticker inside her brain. What Ellie meant was, she thought God was a girl with sad eyes and skimpy top watching her band in the corner of a loud bar piercing right through her like a Heaven and Hell collision midst a guitar riff.

Daniel took one last sniff of cocaine before he slammed the door open, the yell in his throat setting off a headache in Ellie: “Bunny! Come meet your rockstar!”

“I like your songs-“

“We’re gonna get married” You errupt in laughter with that, the sad eyes Ellie had attatched to the memory of you suddenly disappearing in bright amusement, she felt as though she could use your happiness as a new kind of high “I’m not joking, I would carry you in my arms straight into a chapel right now”

“Does that line usually work with the girls you go for?”

“I don’t know, you’re the first I tried it on. Is it endearing enough to convince you to elope?”

“You know every single person in this goddamn bar wants to get in your pants after that guitar riff, right?”

“I’m gonna be fully honest with you right now. I’m fucked out of my goddamn mind today, if I stare at you too long from the mix I took you’re gonna start having two heads and still I might dig it. But God, even then you look so fucking sad”

“Jesus” you scoff “alright junkie well I’m gonna go now-“

“You look so fucking sad and I see you. It’s like I’m seeing an angel cry, like I’m watching God in a party outfit wandering around and listening to my band, like a little bunny eyed daydream fucking painting on a museum wall that makes critics bawl into tears listen, shit, what I’m saying is you’re a fucking tsunami and I feel like I’m flooding and we haven’t even kissed and you don’t even seem to like me all that much right now but when I was up there?” Ellie pointed at the stage “You felt it too. My lyrics. You felt my stuff I know you did, like some soulmate shit like you feel my pain too like we’re both just trying too damn hard. I’m not insane yet, you’re something let me be something to you, I think I can be”

You didn’t answer her. You just kissed. Crashed your lips into her like you were coming up for air because something in your booze made something about her nonsense make sense. You thought you saw her in a dream when she first went up on stage, thought her to be one of those blurry faces in good nights of sleep that passed right through you, familiar in a mystical sense, in the stupidest way. Her lips on yours tasted of pure alcohol and it made you dizzy, weak in the knees. She knew her way around your body, waist and neck like a map engraved itself to the palm of her hands and you melted straight to them.

For two months you believed she was right that day, onto something. Talked about grief and music and love and death and space and leace and thought you knew her forever. Then The Deadbeats got more traction, moved to the spotlight. Then you caught her fucking a fan in the studio.

“All of Ellie’s girls think they’re special”

“Listen Abigail I don’t want to fucking hear it so you can fuck right off” You grabbed your bag, tears prickling in your eyes as you did so before the blonde grabbed hold of your shoulder, instinctively having you look back at her, perhaps the first time you truly looked at her all this time.

“But you really are.”

taglist: @abbysvictim @lottiematthewsceo @sadeyedsugar @digit4lslut @r0ckgoblin @machetegirl109 @scatapple @elliesgirlll @madelynie @emothurman @p1llowthoughtss @scottstre3ted @thatonementallyillsimp @rockyroad-is-bomb @spaceshipellie @toesorhoes @callmewhenyoukan comment to be added!

[dovakiinwitcher]

Batfamily As Interactions With My Own Siblings

- Call and response with quotes or song lyrics. Dick and/or Steph use this most often since most of their siblings are angsty (Jason, Tim, Damian, Cass), so this forces them to acknowledge them. To not respond is of the HIGHEST offense.

- Sometimes Damian, or Cass, will come flying out of nowhere to surprise attack one of their siblings. Frankly, all of them do this, but those two are most common. Poor Duke is always the most caught off guard, in spite of his powers.

- Tim is almost always the last one down for dinner. Sometimes, he doesn’t even come down until after everyone else has eaten. Alfred is always kind enough to leave a plate for him to reheat. One time, he found that plate on the floor beneath a laundry basket that was propped up by a stick, cartoon-trap style. His siblings were hiding around the corner, watching him intently.

- Jason sometimes gets distracted in the bathroom, picking at scabs or old scars on his face in the mirror. His siblings (particularly Damian) get really pissed if they've heard the toilet flush and still have to wait for ten minutes to use the bathroom. (Jason has pointed out that there are other bathrooms. This doesn't prevent him from getting yelled at.)

- Duke has been known to go on fierce literary rants to Jason. Most recently about a certain shitty book he had to read for school.

- Tim started a DnD campaign with Dick, Barbara, and Duke. The party got sidetracked going undercover as an "exterminator" company, and helping a poor milliner jumpstart her hat business (don't ask how those were related). Tim is scared that they may have completely forgotten their original quest.

- Sometimes Steph forgets who she's told something to, and will repeat information to people who've already heard this from her.

- Jason, on the other hand, will forget what he HAS been told by people, and infuriates people with his questions of things he's already "had this conversation about."

- Bruce has repeatedly told Damian that Batcow is not a house pet. Nonetheless, he's found Damian in his room reading a book to his cow several times.

- Dick and Jason have reenacted many YouTube videos on patrols, from quoting back and forth to one another, to performing dangerous parkour stunts.

- Damian once tried to strangle Jason after he won Unstable Unicorns by almost exclusively trolling Damian and preventing him from gaining a final unicorn five times in a row. In one game. Damian has still not forgiven him.

- Jason once offered Tim a hit of his cigarette. Dick later found out and flipped his shit.

- The kitchen is a hazardous place to be. The kids pretend to stab each other a lot.

- Jason communicates primarily through saying either "I'll kill you," or "I'd rather die." Although sometimes, when someone's talking (typically Steph or Dick), he'll randomly interject to say, "you're a [insert obscure twist of their words]."

- For example, Steph was once vacuuming the rug with a very old vacuum and said, "this vacuum would be terrible at cocaine." Jason replied from the couch, not looking up from his book, "you're a terrible cocaine vacuum."

- The siblings binged the Chernobyl HBO series in one night. Right off the bat, Damian went on a rant about how irresponsible the guy committing suicide was for not finding his cat a new home first and just leaving out food. He also had to leave the room during the dog part in later episodes. When Dick was sent to tell him it was over, he was found with his face buried in Titus and/or Ace's fur.

- On a lighter note, Jason commentated over many of the really heavy parts of that documentary, making it way funnier than it was supposed to be. Sometimes he genuinely argued with the TV.

- There is a quote book of obscure things they've said out of context. Here are some excerpts:

"Haha, losers, imagine having parents." - Jason

"And that's why child labor is good and justifiable." - Steph

"They really underestimate my stabbing abilities." - Damian

"This jacket is vegan leather. Which means I skinned a vegan and turned them into a jacket." - Cass

"That's how my brain works; it doesn't." - Tim

"But we're stressful together." - Dick

"As Thomas the Tank Engine once said: chuga chuga choo choo, I'm a sexy dinosaur." - Also Dick

"If you wouldn't have been killed by Nazis, are you even an interesting person?" - Duke

"Alright, shit pisser, let's rumble." - Jason

"Keep your rabid animal away from my crab legs." - Barbara

- Barbara has a tendency to play true crime podcasts while she works. People only ever seem to walk in during the weirdest parts. She doesn't feel the need to explain herself; she finds the looks on their faces hilarious.

- The household Alexa will respond to Dick unprompted, and it genuinely freaks him out. It doesn't do that for anyone else, and he thinks it's out to get him. This is why he has a Google at home in Blüdhaven instead.

- Jason isn't the most hygienic person, which concerns the family sometimes. Dick had learned that when he visits wherever Jason is living at the moment and "oops, forgets" his shampoo or body wash or whatever, Jason will end up using it. Jason has caught on, but will never openly admit that he's grateful for it.

- Dick will ruffle Damian's hair out of affection. Tim will do it to piss him off.

- Tim and Damian often kick each other without any other interaction. Bruce finds it troubling. Dick reminds him that he and Jason used to do the same thing (mainly Jason kicking Dick).

- When Tim and Steph play video games, it's not uncommon for Steph to hijack a car just to try to run Tim over while he tries to do side quests.

- Cass is the Super Smash Bros champion. And the Mario Kart champion. And tends to carry everyone when playing multi-player. Mostly because Steph tries to sabotage them at every corner, and only Cass is able to adapt.

I may do more of these, but I didn't want this to be TOO long.

[allamericansbitch]

the discussion around lacy is a perfect example of what i mean when i say song interpretations should never be limited to who its supposedly about and or basing everything off of celebrity gossip, because yeah sure people are thinking it's about gracie or sabrina but then theres people saying it's about cocaine or a queer crush. now which one of those things is more interesting be honest.

[ghostlykeyes]

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HEARTSTEEL KAYN: HEADCANONS ♡ TW : Drug mentions/Usage ♡ TW: Food mentions ♡ No pairings/ not reader-insert

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KAYN 

Ever since joining Heartsteel, Kayn's 'Rhaast' outbursts have lessened in frequency and severity. Of course, his alter-ego makes regular appearances, but being with a group that encourages and accepts him rather than holds him back and tries to get him under control has made it so that Kayn feels less need to express his feelings in such an explosive, reckless way. Of course, he'll never admit that his newfound friends are the reason for his recent (very, VERY slight) stability.

Kayn is extremely choosy with his jewelry. He fronts like he doesn't want to wear "cheap, lame shit"—but actually, he just reacts to most metals. If he doesn't check to make sure his earrings are hypoallergenic, he ends up with a massive rash. Why the excuse? He is NOT about to admit he has sensitive skin.

Probably not a surprise, but Kayn breaks his phone CONSTANTLY. With all his reckless antics, it's rare for a new phone to last him more than a few months. The silver lining is that he at least has his emergency contacts (the Heartsteel members, of course) memorized from entering them into his contacts list so often.

Kayn also has a burner phone he uses for Rhaast.

Maybe you'd expect Kayn to have an enormous rager for his birthday, but the truth is, he doesn't actually like that many people. Instead he invites a handful of his actual friends to the shared Heartsteel apartment for a joint Halloween/birthday party. Costumes mandatory, noise complaints expected. Kayn will tell you to your face if he thinks your costume is stupid.

Kayn's got a lucky guitar pick. Somehow, he’s never lost it.

Wherever Kayn goes, property damage often follows. For Heartsteel's sake, he's cleaned up his act a tiny bit, mostly because he's scared of respects Yone, who gets pissed whenever Kayn breaks too much shit. But come on, you can't deny a man all of life's simple pleasures—you gotta let him graffiti the side of a water tower every once in awhile, or blow up the occasional car.

Notorious for social media rampages, Kayn's been banned from using the Heartsteel twitter. (The last straw was him using the account to threaten a member of his old band. Apparently, Alune didn't think "I'LL FUKKIN DOXX U LOL" an appropriate use of the official twitter account.) He's still semi-active on his personal accounts, but only in sporadic bursts.

Kayn knows how to tie a knot in a cherry stem with his tongue.

Like most rockstars, Kayn dabbles in cocaine. His drug use is pretty limited, though, mostly because he doesn't really need drugs to be high-energy and unhinged. When clips of his erratic behavior surface or Kayn goes on a twitter rampage, newer fans often speculate about Kayn being on drugs. Veteran Heartbeats know that he’s just Like That, though. 

Kayn says he doesn't have a favorite bandmate. (He does. It's Ezreal.)

A lot of the time, Kayn has to be reminded to eat. When he's busy writing songs or hanging out with the band, stopping for a bite never crosses his mind. Thankfully, Sett's on top of his meal schedule (gotta hit those macros!) so he'll remind Kayn that lunch is a Thing That Exists.

Kayn spends a ridiculous amount of time on his nails. Cuticles? Trimmed. Polish? Immaculate, and always black or burgundy. Topcoat? Applied and glass-smooth. Of course he'll deny that his nail routine is so precise because it doesn't fit his devil-may-care image, but come on. Chipped OPI and hangnails? Couldn't be him.

Kayn hates nothing more than the passenger seat. Let him drive! Yes, he knows that he's gotten two speeding tickets in the past three months. Yes, he's completely aware that K'sante got violently carsick the last time Kayn drove everyone to Taco Bell. He does not care. He will NEVER care. Driving is fun and driving recklessly is really fun.

You won't catch Kayn in a salon. He dyes and cuts his own hair in his bathroom. (How is it still so perfect?!)

Kayn is way too eager to help Aphelios pull pranks on people. Unfortunately, he can dish it out, but he can't take it. A prank on Kayn has a 50/50 chance of putting him in a sour, bitchy mood for the next hour.

Of all the band members, Kayn's the one that spends the most time alone. He doesn't have many friends outside Heartsteel. And, even though he knows his band has his back and he appreciates them, he needs frequent social breaks.

Kayn's the ultimate night owl. It's rare for him to go to bed before 4 AM. Despite this, he's always up before ten. Maybe it's Yone's rigorous recording schedule that gets him up. Maybe he's so high-energy, his body can't stand staying still for more than six hours. Maybe, though, it's just all the Monster energy drinks.

Consider it a sign that he likes you if Kayn spam-texts you. If he doesn't, he won't even bother responding. (But, if he suddenly stops texting you out of the blue? Don't worry. He probably broke his phone. Again.)

[ncis-yp]

A place you shouldn’t be (Tony x reader)

You were a young spitfire. Threatened into military school by your father and given a choice.

“Go to college or go join the Marines. But you’re not going to act up in my house” you could faintly hear your dads voice in the background of your mind as you returned to Virginia.

You had done neither. You didn’t go to college, and you didn’t join the marines. Yet, here you were the disappointment of your fathers first marriage. Baggage that he had to carry around after your mom died.

“(Y/n)? (Y/n).” You heard your buddies voice call out as you tuned back into reality. You were back where you used to hang. A bar, where you played your very first gig when you were just 14 years old.

A younger singer with a strong voice. You could sing like no other, and the raspy, gravelly voice you had made it perfect for your band. Rock and roll, all types.

Time Skip~

You didn’t know it at the time, but your dad caught word that you were back in town and made it a point to watch you perform. But boy was he heated when he saw you.

Rockstar in the flesh. You were onstage singing your heart out. Your leather vest flying around you. Your arms covered in tattoos flexed as you moved. You were wearing a bikini top and shorts. Your eye makeup slightly smudged, and your (h/c) was a mess. But boy oh boy did you look like Shannon.

You had found a handsome man standing close to the stage. He was in a suit, it looked like he’d just got outta work. But boy was he having a good time. You locked eyes as you sang the next part of your song.

“Sweat dripping down our bodies but I’m begging for more/ got my hand on you cock with your pants on the floor/ I’m moaning out your name while you’re cursing mine/and I’ll beg you just to cum but you keep taking your time/we were just ripping off clothes 5 minutes ago/when we were just back stage after my show/you said you wanted pictures but came in for some kisses/ but don’t pull out and just make me your missus” you wink as you scream those lyrics as the band began the chorus. The man smiled and raised an eyebrow. Pretty sure he was now in love with you.

Your father on the other hand was furious. Those lyrics and the way your body was moving in stage. God would he love to hear what you had to say. Once your show ended you made your way to the man you were looking at.

“Hey there” he says.

“Hey” you responded smirking.

“Great set up there. You are a really good singer” he raised his drink slightly.

“Ha ha thank you!” You smile deeply.

“Tony.” He said. “That’s my name. And yours, or and I just supposed to call you little miss Rockstar?”

You giggled at his joke “No the names (y/n)”

“Wow. That fits you perfectly” he chuckles. “I’ve heard your band play before… I was super happy to hear about the show close by so I had to make it”

“Yeah had to play a show here, I grew up close by here.“ You reply.

“Well that’s fucking awesome! If you’re around a few more days we should hang… maybe get some drinks” Tony winks. “And maybe some truth to those lyrics you sang to me earlier” he winked.

“Of course of course” he handed you a pen and write your number on the napkin he handed you. You kissed his cheek before placing the pen back in his hand. “Nice meeting you, Tony. Call me” you walk away.

The next day~

You waltz into NCIS, your visitors pass shiny as you approached your dad’s bullpen area. You hadn’t been at that place in at least 6 years.

“If you were in my house you’d be grounded” his voice thundered as you turned to face him.

“Nice to see you too, Dad”

“Those words were disgusting” he says. “You looked awful. I have $5 that says you reeked of beer and cocaine while you were up there” he continues.

“Yeah and I have $500 that says I’m clean” you fire back casually. “I missed you”

“Come back home and you’re grounded, (y/n), grounded”

“I’m 24” you yawned.

“This is exactly what I didn’t want” he throws up his hands.

“I’m cool” you reply defensively. “The kids get down with me and I’m ducking awesome”

“No. You’re not “cool” or “fucking awesome” (y/n)… you could be the next… I don’t know! OZZY OSBORNE”

“Hey hey, he’s cool as fuck!! Met him once”

“This is a joke to you.” He said sourly.

“Hey boss bad time?” You saw Tony walk up.

“Tony”

“(Y/n)?” He says. “What’re you doing here?”

“My dad works here” you point at Gibbs.

“Sure im your dad?” Gibbs stalks away.

Time skip~

You and Tony had decided to grab lunch. As you sat and told him the story of you and your dad he listened intently. Asking questions every so often, as he did so.

“Well, thank you so much for lunch” Tony said as he walked you to your car. “I never knew this Thai place existed.”

You laughed “yeah, I used to love it” you say stopping at your car. In a fit of impulse Tony pushed his lips onto yours. You kissed back roughly as your tongues fought for dominance, Tony pulled one of your legs up and gained domain of your mouth. You unlocked the door and fell inside the back seat, Tony falling on top of you. He closed the door behind him.

The pair of you wasted barely any time with foreplay as you palmed his erection. Tongues mangled together Tony roughly jammed his hand in your pants, teasing your folds.

“Can I do this?” His voice came out in a quiver. He was getting progressively hornier as the two of you went through your motions.

“Yeah, but don’t stop once you start” you whisper kissing his neck. His fingers plunged deep into your core, you moaned as you soaked his fingers.

“FffUCK (y/n)” he sighed as you played with his dick. You rapidly undid his belt. “Do you have a favorite position? Tell me what you want. I wanna please you the way you wanna be pleased”

“Doggy style and slut me out” you say pulling down your shorts. You flipped over and almost instantly Tony’s dick was pumping in and out of you. Your back arched as he roughly pounded into you.

“Oh my god” you heard him groan as he fucked.

“Fuck you feel so good” you say as you further arched your back seeking more. “Oh my god, Tony” you moan. He places a hand on your back as he fucks you. You could admit it… fucking in the backseat was uncomfortable to say the least, but FUCK did he feel so good he made it feel worth it.

Your moans, Tony’s curses, and the sound of dick slapping skin were the only sounds you could hear in your delicate musicians ears. Your ass bounced against his thighs as his dick plowed into you. Again and again and again.

“Fuck (y/n)” he groaned. “I’m so close”

“Me too, please don’t stop” you breathe out. Your breathe getting rapid and moans getting higher as your pussy throbbed around his dick.

“Fuck fuck fuck” he moans gutterally as he comes deeply inside of you. His orgasm sending you right over the edge. He rode out out orgasm and pulled out of you, allowing your body to fall back against his as you both breathed heavily.

“Im so sorry” he said as he gently rubbed your arm.

“For what?” You responded grabbing some the baby wipes you carried in your car, passing him some before beginning clean yourself. He took your hand away and started cleaning you himself.

“I came inside you. I’ll buy you a Plan B if you want… or we can talk about having it… I don’t know, it’s whatever you want to do, I’m just sorry I-“

“Hey, relax.” You say softly grabbing his hand. His eyes darted to you. “I’m in birth control. You don’t have to worry about that okay?”

“Okay” he nodded kissing your forehead.

Once the two of you were cleaned up Tony stood in the door way of the drivers side as you buckled your seat belt.

“So dinner?” He asked. You pulled him closed to you but his belt loops.

“Dinner with you?” He nods bending down to your level. “Of course” you kiss his lips softly.

“Okay sounds good.” He says. “Drive safe beautiful”

“Thanks handsome” you giggled as you pull out.

[kierongillen]

i have to know - as a disco elysium fan who didnt do disco, what would you say is essential disco listening for me?

I'm hugely behind on the asks, but I have to answer this one, because I'm going to answer a connected but completely different question, and then maybe then loop back to you. I'm just looking for an excuse to ramble, and do the writer equivalent of a warm-up sketch (i.e. waste time).

My apologies.

If you wake up and decide that you want to get into a whole genre of music, there's basically two tactics.

(There's also the "Why would anyone care to get into something they don't care about", which is one of the few things I have a "There's two sorts of people..." response to - those who when presented by something unknown either think "why should I know about that?" or "why don't I know about that?" I'm the latter, and it's served me well.)

The first tactic is simple.

Jump on a genre with Best Of in the title and follow your pleasure response. Here's a Spotify one. What interests you? What excited you? What makes you laugh? Probably explore more of that. If not, indulge widely, and see what sticks. At a glance, Disco playlists seem to have the problem of most playlists, in that strictly not everything on it is disco per se. For example, Dancing Queen strictly speaking isn't a disco song - but it's a song about disco, in every way. But if anything has found its way on a playlist, it's found its way on for a reason.

In your case, you're interested in what Disco resonates with Disco Elysium. Which I've bought for C, but not played, but I'm aware of in a "if I was still a games journalist, this is clearly one I would write a lot about." I spent years writing about Planescape Torment, and I know a spiritual successor when I see one.

This makes me think the area you want is basically the classier end - the big bleak emotions, the chilliness, the control, lonely on a dancefloor, lonely everywhere, oh-so-much cocaine, and - to steal Paul Lester's line - glass mountains on fire.

Which leads back to the second way of getting into a genre of music - which is to hit a major artist, and hit them hard.

When asked about "how shall I get into a band" my advice is actually the opposite of what I'm about to give. If you just want to get into a band, get Best Of, see what tracks you like, then go to the albums they're from. But if you're trying to get into a whole genre of music, that's a more serious endeavour, and may reward the opposite approach.

Basically pick a key album from a key band, and get into it, and grow from there. Read about the band - you don't need much, but a little helps. Learn how to listen to what their tracks do. And then you use that band as the single point of knowledge you have to orientate yourself to everything else you listen afterwarads.

There's a huge danger to this - basically, no-one is more ignorant than someone with a little knowledge. You have to be aware that you are the person who knows a bit about Boss Baby, and using that to get into things other than Boss Baby.

The strength is that it's a more holistic, lived in knowledge than just skimming the surface. You understand the music better as an artifact of their times, made by people, responding to their specific situation - which adds different flavours to your appreciation of it. Sure, your own response and how it finds a place in your life is always the thing which over-rules anything else - but the more you can listen for, the more you can hear, the more you can get from a work of art.

Anyway - I'm telling you to go and listen to Risque by Chic.

Chic are basically fucking awesome. If you don't know Disco at all, the opening Good Times chilly ironic take on American late-seventies culture is a great and (I suspect) Disco Elysium relevant intro. You'll know it as a sample, if nothing else, and the eight minutes version that opens Risque is a great way to think about it as both music for dancing (it is endless) and music for listening (it is boundless).

I got Risque as Paul Lester went to bat for it so hard in the Unknown Pleasures book the Maker stuck on the cover in 1995 (it was covering 20 albums that had fell out of the critical conversation, and it absolutely changed the dirction of my listening in the period). Here's Lester writing about Risque more recently for a taste, as the original piece doesn't appear to be online. I just read it in my copy, and it's a burst of love, describing it Disco as music about love - never sex, only love, and mainly love that is denied. That seems solid, at least for the best of chic.

Risque is the Chic album that Lloyd from Phonogram would have been listening to, certainly. I know I did.

(Plus At Last I Am Free from C'est Chic, obv)

There's a lot of Chic to listen to - their own work, especially in the period, and all their productions. Their work with Sister Sledge is of particular import - Lost In Music was one of the working title for Phonogram, and you can see and hear why. They're also the Disco band whose influence is perhaps most obvious in other bands. Everyone liked Chic. No Chic, no Orange Juice, no Orange Juice, no Smiths, etc.

Sister Sledge was the first live band I was at. My mum went to see them when she was eight and a half months pregnant. The temptration to say I'd have heard Lost in Music then and sold is tempting, but ahistorical - it's well before their work with Chic.

Anyway - get into Chic. It'll make your life better - and when your life isn't better, it's a superior context to lose yourself.

However, to go back to your question, as a Disco Elysium fan, I'm not sure it's actually THIS Disco you're looking for.

How about Disco Inferno?

Not Disco at all, but most like itself than anything else, which sounds like what I understand about Disco Elysium. right?

(DI Goes Pop is the starting place)

[radioisntdead]

Hello!! I just read your velvette fic and it blew me away!!

Would it be okay if you made a fic of lucifers new wife meeting the hazbin hotel gang, along with mentioning how she died? It can be a song fic, and if it was, maybe what I know now from Beetlejuice?

If I'm asking for a lot, I'm sorry, this is my second time requesting something :)

Either way, thank you for considering this request, and if you could tag me if you make it, that would be nice!

With love 💙💙

-Xin

Good evening my dear! First of all you're doing great requesting! @fuck-this-shit-xin

Normally I prefer not to write for Lucifer for a couple of reasons, but the moment I read what I know now, I immediately went into writing mode, I ADORE THAT SONG, and Beetlejuice the musical as a whole but that song changed me, I annoyed my parents by playing it all the time back in 2020. I may have gotten slightly off track of the request, (I got excited writing reader singing)

If I knew then what I know now

Warnings!!!

Suicide and Self harm, Reader was a child star, Reader like the others breaks into song.

Link to the song, highly recommend you listen to it while reading!

Well, meeting your new husband's daughter was a bust, you ended up at her hotel, and he proceeded to get in a fight with a radio deer man and it was chaotic, So you decided to have a redo dinner where you could properly meet her and everyone,

Unfortunately the duck obsessed man had some type of emergency leaving you with your stepdaughter, her girlfriend and a couple of the other hotel residents alone.

"I'm sure he'll be back eventually."

You said with a strained smile, nervously smoothing out your dress as Charlie nodded,

"Yeah! I'm sure it was something that was super important, So uh, how'd you meet my dad?"

"Oh! Well it's a funny story-"

"Better question how does he perform in bed?"

"ANGEL."

"I'm not answering that."

And that pinwheeled into everyone drinking at the bar, chatting about random things and eventually Angel dust said something about his erotic films and you said you were in a couple of films when alive, although yours were more.... Family friendly

"Life is a thing that should be cherished, let me tell you I wish I could go back to it sometimes," you said swirling the alcoholic beverage in your hand,

"What wassssss your life like?"

"Well,"

The radio flickered on, letting a tune pour out.

Alastor raised an eyebrow.

"I was hot, I went to parties a lot"

You leaned back in your chair, recalling when you were alive,

"Y'know?"

Well that's not what Charlie was expecting you to open with,

"I was driving Lamborghinis, Sipping super-dry martinis,"

You downed the rest of your drink before standing up, moving to the music

"In the tiniest bikinis on a yacht"

You were quite scandalous when you were alive

"But I was depressed"

You put an arm over your head and leaned back leaning back, Alastor pushed you forwards with his cane.

"Also completely obsessed"

You had competed in beauty pageants since you were a child, you had starred in some films both as a child and as an Adult.

"An unhappy beauty queen"

It had been installed in you to be beautiful, the best, you had to eliminate your competition by outshining them, you were thrusted into the spotlight at such a young age, you never stood a chance.

"Who dreamed to be Miss Argentina"

A role you couldn't reach no matter how hard you tried,

"I had such low self-esteem"

You were beat down verbally by not only those around you, but by yourself, no one could beat the words you told yourself in the late hours of the night.

''I was a mess''

You had drowned your woes in alcohol, cocaine and other things, no one truly knew how much of a mess you were, being completely functional to do your pageants or films.

"So I gave it all up for the netherworld''

You flipped your hair as you twirled around.

"I've been here forever, girl"

You couldn't tell how long it's been since you died, you witnessed the decades change slowly but surely as more souls fell below.

"If I was more clever, girl"

You smiled.

"I would've stuck it out, Knowing what life's about,"

Oh how you missed looking out your window and seeing the blue sky, the sun, you missed fresh fruit, you missed the trees, normal looking animals!

"Pain and joy and suffering"

Maybe if you were born into a different life you would've been happier.

"Failing but recovering"

You made the decision to fix yourself, you hated the way your coping mechanisms made you feel, it destroyed you.

"I'll tell you another thing, Everyone comes here alone"

You motioned at the residents of the hotel, you weren't completely wrong, Angel dust came alone, Alastor showed up alone but summoned forth Husk and Niffty later on, Sir Pentious technically had his eggs but still.

"So if you are breathing, Go home!"

You danced with the rhythm of the music, hips moving.

"If I knew then, What I know now"

You placed a hand on Charlie's shoulder,

"I would have looked within and let love in somehow"

She gave you a warm hug you returned the hug before stepping back

"If I only knew the truth back then"

It was the last time, that's what you told yourself as you opened the bottle of Vodka, just one last time.

"I wouldn't have had my little "accident""

The little voice in your head was telling you it was going to get worse, and worse, you would never escape this life, you would forever be watched like a puppet, there was a letter opener on your nightstand, you were using it to open fanmail early that day.

The bracelets on your wrists moved showing a glimpse of the red markings that ended your life.

"Don't be blind"

You laid on the cold ground, blood staining your clothing, you looked up and saw the night sky, the stars were so, so beautiful.

"We left our whole lives behind"

You wondered who found you, your manager? a friend? Family member?

"See a shrink, Call a priest"

You moved around,

"Ask the recently deceased"

You glanced at the hotel residents, they hadn't died recently, you snapped your fingers summoning forth little puppet like people, where they sinners, did they come from you? Were they like the eggs? Who knows.

"Death is final and you cannot press rewind"

Stage lights turned on.

"Don't jump when the light is red"

"Toasters should be used for bread"

"Never smoke cigars in bed"

Three puppets sung, different colored lights shining on them

"Nietzsche was right, y'know, to live is to suffer, bro"

"Don't cheat on the one you wed"

A puppet dress in a suit popped up next, mocking a groom.

"Never whip a thoroughbred"

"Angry pygmys shrunk his head"

"Why did it take death to see, Happiness was up to me?" They sung in unison, each puppet dressed to match their line.

You stepped onto the stage the puppets surrounded you, standing beside and behind you.

"If I knew then, What I know now,"

You moved with the puppets,

"I would've laughed and danced"

Regrets filled you through and through

"And lanced every sacred cow"

You never did the things you wanted too, you never truly indulged in the hobbies you loved,

"I thought I knew, but I was wrong!"

If you could turn back the clock you would, without hesitation,

"'Cause life is short"

You would've probably still ended up here but at least you could've said that you lived life to the fullest!

"But death is super long"

You had an eternity to make up for the things you never did in life, it wasn't the same for multiple reasons, the main one being you were in hell.

A puppet exploded into a pile of confetti beside you.

"I exploded!"

Niffty quickly moved to clean up the confetti.

You danced to the music, twirling the puppets around, pulling up Charlie up onto the stage for a quick dance, A stray puppet pulling Angel dust into a very disorganized dance as he was tall while the puppet was not, Alastor did a goofy dance while another puppet aimed to dance with the eggs.

it wasn't all bad being down there, after all you did met your darling husband who you loved, and being married pulled you up above the average sinner.

Charlie hopped off of the stage

"If I knew then, What I know now"

Lights moved with you around the stage

"I would've crossed every line and drank all the wine"

One of the puppets wandered off to grab a glass of wine only to be stop by husk picking it up and tossing it over.

"Before my final bow!'

You did a half bow before twisting around, face to the puppets as they danced around you.

"If I knew"

You raised a hand the faintest of strings could be seen

"The things that now I know"

"I would ride the highs and cherish the lows"

Life was something you should've NEVER took for granted, you longed for the sense of normalcy that came with it,

"Going, it's a quick trick 'round the rodeo"

A small wooden horse with a smaller puppet moved around the stage for a moment.

Your movements became more face paced, your voice

"So before they lower the curtain, be certain to enjoy the show"

You bowed elegantly.

"That's what I know!"

The curtains closed.

"Life is short but death is long, Here, one minute then it's gone""

"Thought I knew but I was wrong, If I only knew what I know now!"

Your legs gave out below you, collapsed on the stage, the puppets vanished as the song ended, you were glad the curtains covered you.

You could hear the hotel doors fling open,

"Sorry I'm back! Everything's dandy now, what'd I miss?"

You heard your husband say, you took a deep breath before standing up brushing yourself off.

"Why are there ducks stuck on your coat?"

"I see Alaska is still here,"

"It's Aʟǟֆȶօr."

"Dad, Alastor please behave"

And that was your cue to prevent another fight You opened up the curtains with a large smile,

"Luci! You just missed my performance"

You said leaping off the stage tackling the short fallen angel into a hug, flustering him at the sudden attack of affection.

"I- wHAT?"

You wished you could go back and live life to the fullest but you couldn't do that, you had to spend your afterlife with your regrets, you would forever have that desire to go back, to live a sense of normalcy but you had your husband and maybe a new family with Charlie and Vaggie.

You looked forward to what the future held.

Good evening folks hope you enjoyed! Lucifer didn't get much page time (??) because no idea how to write him and again I wanted to indulge in reader's musical performance, thank you for tuning in I am making my ways through requests!

[psychocharlie]

I had a dream last night in which Dethklok released deth-eyeshadow palettes. Everyone had their own personalized palette with colors that perfectly fit them and the names for each color in the palette were given by Dethklok themselves. Some refills had funny stamps embossed in the style of each of the band members, and the cover of the packs had their faces on it.

Nathan's palette was mostly black and blood red with names like Death, Murder, Crushed Skull (the only light color there, a milky white), Guts, Hatred, Bloody Vomit, and blue-black color named Abyss.

And when he saw Pickles' palette, he grumbled for a long time that his palette is "not metal" and looked gay, because Pickles' palette didn't have a single dark color, it had a few red-orange shades, but none of them were even brutal blood red (!!!). There was a neon pink shimmer called "Glam" in memory of snakes n barrels, a bottle-green shade called "Booze". The rest of the refills was some trippy bright colors with names like "Party", "Sex on the beach", and there were also a few drug-related named shades: I remember "Acid mushroom", "bad trip" and "cocaine". It looks pretty cool tbh. But Nathan was so fucking pissed off, he was like "Pickles, what kind of gay fucked up shit you put out, it's not even brutal! Okay with Toki put out his candy pink girl shit with glitter and unicorns, 'cause that's Toki, but what's fucking wrong with you? Now, of all the deth-palettes, only mine looks metal, it's fucked up!"

Toki's palette was cute and candy-colored, just the way he likes it. Ufortunately I only remembered a few color names – "Rainbow", "Candy Paradise" and "Magic Unicorn" and there were A LOT of glitter refills in his palette (besides Toki, only Pickles and Skwisgaar palettes had glitters in it, but even they had only one glitter per palette). The cover of the box showed Toki in a cat's body running through a rainbow like in the hamburger time song.

Murderface had the entire palette done in just yellow, ranging from regular yellow to acid yellow to a yellow with red streaks. All the shades were simply called "PISS", "PISS", "PISS", "PISS", "PISS", "ACID PISS", "BLOODY PISS", "PISS". A single black shade in the bottom right corner with the name "Self-hatred" stood out against this. The package was also done in yellow colors, a bit in the Planet Piss style.

Skwisgaar had a cold colors palette.  There were various cold white, gray and blue colors with names like "Ice fjord", "Snow vortex", "Northern wolf", "Viking". There was also a very beautiful golden glitter named "Golden god", Skwisgaar said that it was made of real gold particles. 

Anyway, it's an incredibly cool concept and I woke up feeling really sad that these eyeshadow palettes don't exist in reality because I want to buy them all 😭

Upd: forgot to add another interesting detail. Throughout the dream Exitus from Brendon Small's Galaktikon II was playing somewhere in the background (I didn't fall asleep with headphones on, the song was part of the dream and existed inside it). Namely the lines from "hold my breath, look in my eyes" to "and you live, you live in your heart. And we live, we live with you". So when I woke up I had those lines running through my head.

[torturedtypewritersdept]

the sun + the sand - pt. five - something was wrong

↳PAIRING: bff!rafe cameron x fem!reader

↳SUMMARY:you have a stalker, but your best friend rafe won't let anything happen to you, even if he has to come clean about how he really feels.

↳WARNINGS: mentions of stalking, blackmail, inappropriate behavior (not from rafe), protective!rafe, etc.

↳A/N: this is a repost from my old blog @illicitfixations + @lovelornanonymity. all of my works are being reposted to this one + the previous blog has been deactivated.

You sat with your feet dangling off of his bed, sneakers adjacent to your feet where you’d previously taken them off. John B stood parallel to his dresser, pouring the white powder into four even lines with his debit card. 

“Come on in, y/n. The water is fine.” 

He spoke cheerily in a sing-song voice, snorting two of the lines back to back. You followed his lead as you traded places with him and suddenly, everything felt lighter. 

Snorting a line of coke off of John B’s dresser was probably not your best idea, okay, maybe it was your worst idea to date. But, you needed to forget about your sleepover with Rafe and the potential of marrying him before you began to hyperfixate and ruin everything. You had it good. There were drunk texts and phone calls and he even flirted with you from time to time. Apart from that, Rafe protected you and he was good to you and you weren’t about to throw all of those wonderful things away based on the tiny notion of a fake marriage, when you were sure he didn’t love you – not the way that you loved him. So, there you sat on John B’s bed, veins filled with cocaine taking in his lust filled eyes. He wasn’t all bad, he was nice to talk to and he was hot but that seemed to end the list of his good qualities. He was simply the warm body that you fell on top of when you were at your loneliest. But, he never filled the void. The only thing that did was looking at Rafe. In fact, you felt more warmth just talking to him than you ever had lying under John B in the middle of the night. That’s the reason he was the person you called to pick you up. You closed your eyes as John B laid you down, spreading your legs as he took off your clothes, piece by piece. He was gentle, at least, which shocked you because he was blitzed out of his mind in the same way that you were. You watched as he kissed above your pubic bone and up your stomach as he took your breasts into his mouth, suckling on them like a newborn pup. His tongue made circles around your teet, sucking and biting and palming your other breast as he went. You rubbed your hands through his long hair while he worked, looking down at him briefly through half-lidded eyes. It was only as he moved down to your pussy that you saw a shadow by the door through your drug-induced haze. You closed your eyes for a moment, blinking them open again in hopes that it would give you a better view of whoever stood in the doorway and it did. John B didn’t seem to notice, moving his tongue rapidly up and your vagina, placing kisses as he lapped up your juices. You almost got caught up in how good it felt, because quite frankly John B wasn’t very good at making you feel good. The feeling shocked you, but then you remembered the person in the doorway again and you fought to get away from the ecstasy that was trying to infiltrate your every nerve. You closed your eyes again only momentarily and this time when you opened them you saw blue eyes and blonde hair and a sinister grin and just as your eyes sent the signal to your brain that you knew who the boy was, you went into a panic. You grabbed John B’s hair, pulling him up from your pussy, which you quickly wished you hadn’t done because your legs were wide open and the man watching you got an eyeful. 

“Ow! What the fuck, y/n?!” 

John B growled and as he looked at you with accusational eyes, he realized something was wrong. You were scared and you looked like you’d seen a ghost. You couldn’t move, instead, you only pointed to the doorway and when John turned in that direction, taking in his best pal, he grew angry. 

“JJ, what the fuck are you doing here?!” 

He growled and JJ snickered. 

“Come on, JB! Don’t play pretend, you texted me and told me to come over and scare her.” 

You scoffed, knowing that you should’ve known he was capable of something like that, he was a pogue after all and that’s what you got for slumming it with one. 

“Y/n – hey, he’s lying. You can check my phone. I most definitely didn’t text him anything.” 

You swallowed thickly, unsure of which of the two to believe, as you wrapped the sheet around yourself. You wanted nothing more than to call Rafe but you knew he’d lecture you and probably kill both of the boys in front of you. So, you did what any self respecting person would and you got dressed, walking off of John B’s porch and into the night. You didn’t know anything other than the fact that you absolutely had to get out of there. 

-

Rafe looked down at you as he stood on the eight foot ladder he had leaned against the bricks of your house. Your watchful eye caught the small details of his t-shirt hugging his biceps, which was always a sight to see. His muscles contracted as he took the camera system in his hand and began mounting it to the corner of your house, where brick and sheetrock met. 

“How was your night last night, peach? I don’t think I saw you at the boneyard.” 

You hesitated for a moment, wondering if you should be honest and tell him that JJ Maybank scared the shit out of you. 

“It was fine.” 

You muttered, but he continued to pry. 

“Well, what did you do? You couldn’t have been with John B, because you didn’t text me to come get you.” 

“Actually, that’s where I was.” 

You replied in a monotone voice. 

“Well, did you spend the night or something?” 

“No.” 

“Then how’d you get home, peach?” 

“I – I uh, walked.” 

You muttered. 

“Why?! Do you know how many times I’ve told you to call me?! What do you think I’d do if something happened to you, huh?!” 

His voice quickly became booming, as he stood above you and you hung your head low in response, feeling unshed tears collect in your eyes. 

“Well, I would’ve just stayed there. B-but, I was scared.” 

The hair on the back of Rafe’s neck raised at your confession. 

“Why, were you scared, peach?” 

He questioned. 

“Can I be honest with you? You promise you won’t get mad?” 

You questioned meekly, pressing your fingers into your palms. He looked down at you from where he stood and he could tell something was wrong by the action of your hands; a movement you only partook in when you were experiencing extreme anxiety. He quickly stopped what he was doing and made a rapid but careful dissent down the ladder. 

“Peach, baby – whatever it is, I won’t be mad, okay?” 

He said, now standing in front of you, his gentle touch felt against the skin of your shoulders and biceps as his hands traveled up and down them. 

“Rafe, what do you know about JJ Maybank?” 

You questioned.

“Not much. I mean I know that he’s weird and there are rumors about him like fucking his sister or something, but I don’t think they are true. I kinda feel sorry for the kid, you know his dad is abusive, right? Why?” 

Your silence and refusal to meet his eyes, told him all he needed to know. 

“Sweetheart, did he do something to you? Because I’ll kill him.” 

He barked out and you caved. 

“Me and John – we had done a line and then we were, you know, doing the nasty. I looked up and there he was – just standing in the door, watching us. Rafe, he wasn’t just watching, he was laughing in this weird way and h-he scared me and then he said that John texted him to scare me, but I could tell he was lying I think. I don’t know – I just, I didn’t call because I was embarrassed and I was so scared I just put my clothes on and left.” 

You stuttered out the words and Rafe’s heart dropped. To know that this stupid boy had violated you in such a personal and private way, it hurt him so deeply and he wanted to kill him. 

“Hey, look at me, peach.” 

He said, bringing your chin in between his forefinger and his thumb. 

“I’m not mad, sweetheart and I promise there’s nothing to be embarrassed about, he violated you and I’ll kill him, okay? If you want, I’ll put him in the fucking hospital for doing that to you.” 

He said, strong and sure and serious. It made the walls of your heart contract – to know that he cared this much. You hoped he always would. 

“That’s very sweet, but if you’re in jail for attempted murder, who am I going to marry?” 

You asked playfully, giving him a smile and he returned it, placing a kiss to your forehead. 

“Okay, peach. But, I’m serious – you call me from now on. Matter of fact, I don’t even want you near him anymore. He’s fucking weird.” 

He said and you nodded your head in response. 

“Agreed.” 

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haii gooseberry number one fan here. whats yr thoughts on phylis ... i lov lov lov yr posts abt picking apart coyles character and lore hehe

“You're too delicate! You're too precious! You can't go!”

Well first of all, I love that she’s fat, in part because you can bet your ass that if she wasn’t, she’d be overeroticized and made the object of those shallow copy-pasted “awoooooooga step on me mommy” screeds that fandom regurgitates to avoid having to put coherent thought into female characters. Much like queerness and the role it plays in Coyle’s storyline, fat characters that are conceptualized to act as fonts of horror have traditionally reinforced fatphobic social norms. And because of the gory, grotesque conventions of horror as a genre, these cases are often distinctly more damaging and offensive than, say, a fatphobic character in a sitcom. (You can read more about this topic here and here.)

The voice acting carries all of her appearances, too. Her now infamous cocaine song is the first example to come to mind; that overwrought, wavering tone she adopts makes it sound like she’s always on the brink of breaking down entirely. The sustained anxiety created a harsh juxtaposition between her tone and the lewd lines share’s parroting (“fucking and fighting.”) The quote that I highlighted at the top of the post also shines. Gooseberry’s great vocal performance is cool not least of all because the last major fat antagonist in the series, Chris Walker, didn’t get a lot of lines. I’m midway through replaying the first Outlast, and I think the game treats Chris Walker with a lot more pathos and significance than many games treat fat characters of his kind, although that assessment falls apart once you get to The Murkoff Account.

Chris is the main villain of Outlast. He’s portrayed as brutal but also competent and deliberately ruthless, which implies that he’s capable of complex thought in spite of the dehumanization he endured as a variant. The contradiction there underscores the game’s main theme & the overarching tragedy and atrocity of Mount Massive. In the end, Chris is brutally murdered on screen, and you could argue that the imagery incorporated in his death scene - that of expanding and blowing up - has fatphobic undertones. But unlike Rick Traeger and Eddie Gluskin, who meet similarly grizzly fates, the audience surrogate Miles directly suggests that the viewer should sympathize with Chris after his death. Somehow, Chris emerges as the least monstrous of the three, no matter how much abuse was piled onto his body and mind, and no matter what crimes he committed under that duress. Overall, Outlast presents him as a relevant, memorable, and fully autonomous character. Not bad, for a game that came out while The Biggest Loser was still airing on NBC.

But the comics have a lot less time to develop Chris than the game did. In The Murkoff Account, his main purpose is to act as a human example of broader institutional cruelty, much like Billy Hope did in Outlast. That position naturally invites the audience to view Chris as victimized and, to an extent, sympathetic, but his only notable characteristic outside of that victimization is a childish inability to control his aggression or prevent himself from being bullied. Those two details seem to form a paradox, right? Chris is a former military police officer, he brags about knowing judo, he should be able to get his coworkers to shut up and stop making fun of him. But he lacks the drive, conviction and strength of will necessary to do that. He’s basically a big baby, characterization which is reinforced by the comics’ art style.

Compared to the thin characters, Chris isn’t allowed to act with nearly as much autonomy as he did in the game. What happens to him in the comics could happen to anyone, and the only distinctions relevant to him as a person are crass stereotypes revolving around his body. The cost of expanding on the game’s lore was that the main villain got whittled down to the latent antifat tropes which had always lingered just below the surface - Chris doesn’t get to be a mad doctor like Trager or an abhorrent admirer like Gluskin. Instead, he’s the stout strength trope, he’s the fat idiot trope, and he expands on the pig imagery. Not great times.

And Gooseberry was probably influenced by Chris. Dhe’s fat, she’s strong, she’s associated with an animal, and to an extent, she’s infantile! Although I think that her characterization as hysterical and not fully in control of herself is less a manifestation of fatphobia, as it was with Chris, and more a direct allusion to antiquated perceptions of mentally ill women. “Goose” is itself old-world slang for a silly or witless person. If one thing has emerged from my thoughts on Coyle, it would be that the writers of Trials are a lot more conscientious of social perceptions and stereotyping than the writers of Outlast were. It’s natural for a series that’s been going on for this long to begin to develop redundancy, but Trials’ 1950s setting and new game mechanics help gloss over that. Phyllis’ asserted sexual relationships with in-game characters struck me as unnecessary, but fat women (like dark skin women) are often depicted as masculine and drained of eroticism, so. You win some, you lose some.

You can read Gooseberry as a sort of a combination between Chris and Eddie, with her body and maturity interconnected to present her as disturbingly naive and immature in contrast with the great violence she enacts. This is a concept also explored with Eddie Gluskin: his hand-wringing need to preserve his would-be victim’s “chastity” becomes bizarre and unsettling when pushed up against the graphic, vindictive misogyny. Similarly, one reason the chases with Chris are so unbearably scary is because the sound of his clinking chains gets louder and louder as he gains on you, but he also does this laborious breathing when he runs which emphasizes his weight. When Phyllis chases you, you hear Futterman’s drill and the sound of her mindless shrieking - it’s terrifying in a way that doesn’t incorporate her fatness into the fear factor. Love that. The same unfortunately can’t be said for her implied DID, a demonization which is unfortunately very common, very old and very damaging all at once. (You can read more about that here, and in tons of other places.)

Michel Foucault used a two-pronged framework to examine popular narratives about The Plague and pandemics in general. Within this framework, there is one “political” story model which is defined by a controlling environment and another “literary” dimension which is defined by a collectivized, frenzied environment was first conceived. Perhaps because Outlast: Trials was developed amidst a pandemic, I think Foucault’s framework translates nicely to examining Trials’ narrative about the cold war and the red scare. Some common themes include mass hysteria, xenophobia, heightened interpersonal suspicion and a seemingly unprecedented increase in government control.

On the surface, Coyle would represent the “political” dimension of Trials’ horror, acting as an exaggerated, kinda ridiculous extension of the extreme social control that white supremacy & patriarchy enforce. Within this dichotomy, Gooseberry would represent the “literary” dimension of the game’s horror, acting as a chaotic dissolver of all social barriers rather than an enforcer of them and creating a frenzied, carnival-like effect within anyone who comes under her spell. The children who watched her old show and took to violence and drug consumption come to mind; regardless of background, parenting or culture, Phyllis changed them. She didn’t even have to see them in person. She did it over the TV.

Gooseberry [hosted] a children's variety show known as 'The Mother Gooseberry Hour” [produced by Futterland Studios] which started airing in 1951. Following Dr. Futterman's death, the cause of which is still unknown, she had a hysterical episode and began experiencing dissociation. The tone of the Mother Gooseberry Hour shifted accordingly. Throughout her tenure on the show, she used her television platform and mail-order "dental drops" business to get children addicted to narcotics, violence, theft, and possibly murder. Over the years, the children watching her show became cult-like, engaging in immoral behavior, drug use, and other shenanigans, leading to larceny and assault. In 1955, Futterland Studios was raided by the police, after which she was charged with racketeering, kidnapping, and conspiracy to commit murder. The raid left two police officers dead and five others injured, as she escaped into the tunnels beneath the set to attack them with drills. It is unclear exactly what was inside Futterland Studios, but police captain Stanley Hoad described the contents of the studios as "The most grotesque architectural perversion since H.H. Holmes’ Chicago Murder Castle.”

Trials is the first Outlast game to allow us to have character customization, and unlike the previous protagonists (who both get stand out from the other characters by being in some way Special within the setting,) the Reagents are intended to act as an endless supply of nameless, faceless grunts, the vast majority of which will die gruesome deaths during the guinea pig stage. In this game, we play as the people who would’ve been those nameless, faceless heads we see on the shelves in Outlast, or hanging from a tree branch in Outlast 2. The game’s customization elements are justified in-universe by the notion that they’re so addled that they can’t even establish a stable perception of their own features: an example of the collectivizing, depersonalizing nature of the literary dimension if I’ve ever seen one. As the popularity of the customizable character feature ebbs and flows, other franchises pull it out just out of laziness in the creative department. With that in mind, I’m really glad Trials did something cool and innovative with the concept instead of just dumping in RPG elements for no reason.

Phyllis’ multiple personas mimic the changeable qualities of the Reagents themselves, though they’re grounded in her stated backstory: there is the doll, the dead abuser, and there is her, the child-turned-woman reenacting that trauma seemingly without fully grasping what’s doing. We’re left with this character who’s genuineness we’re always unsure about, in hard contrast to Coyle’s blunt, undisguised self-servingness and complete lack of conscious guile or shame. The first time the player gets up close with Phyllis will be in the kill animation, where she nods at the puppet she thinks is her father before slaughtering you unceremoniously. Who can say for sure, if Phyllis is more malicious or misguided? Not us, not the other Reagents, not Murkoff, and least of all herself. I’m glad she was included.