#this is for the frans wedding month

[mamaito]

Married to a corpse.

[swallowedbyfandom]

He genuinely never understood why his siblings's watched him with such bewildered eyes throughout Penelope and Debling's courtship. Why they all looked really to bundle him off at a moments notice at her wedding ceremony or why his mother looked so wistful at the wedding breakfast. He didn't understand why mother cried so hard when Penelope moved away or why she was so defeated when Pen wrote to announce her pregnancy. He didn't understand it until the summer of 1817.

In the summer of 1817, Earl Debling had to travel to the Americas for business. Over protective husband that he was, he worried about leaving his wife during her delicate condition with their twelve month old daughter, without emotional support for what would amount to almost ten months of time. His family and surrounding neighbors were still getting over a winter fever outbreak that he worried could still be contagious, so he arranged Penelope's and little Agatha's stay with Violet and the Bridgerton clan in Aubrey Hall.

He is standing with his family on the steps of their ancestral seat, to greet Penelope and her family while his sibling's chattered on excitedly. His first thought upon seeing her after two years is that she has always been radiant, but motherhood has truly turned her into something ethereal. Her husband gently lifts her out of their carriage and Colin can clearly see the gentle curve of her second pregnancy showing already.

God, Colin nearly cries when he sees how happy his mother and Pen are to be reunited. Really he and all his siblings watch misty eyed how his mother tearfully cups Penelope's face and whispers," Welcome home, my darling girl." while complimenting how wonderful motherhood looks on her. Penelope just melts into mother's arms babbling about how much she missed her and her excitement to share her daughter with her. Then he and his siblings watch as James grandly introduces Mother to their little Miss Agatha Violet Debling. Penelope looks so proud handing her little girl over into mother's arms as James just watches her indulgently, while gently supporting her small baby bump.

Dinner that night is a lively affair the entire family is at Aubrey hall this year. The Bassett and Stirling families included as Pen had written to Francesca warning her about the outbreak of Winter fever and she recommended they visit England for safety while the outbreak was ongoing. Frannie had confided in mother that she and John have been trying to start a family since they first married and were struggling to conceive, so she had written to Penelope for support and advice. That Penelope had always been something of a big sister to her but these last two years had cemented it. Pen had been her support system of candid advice and hilarious gossip to keep her spirits up. So they thought it best to retreat to Aubrey hall and leave Kilmartin in Michael's hand's until the outbreak passed.

It had warmed his heart knowing how even if Eloise and Pen's relationship never quite recovered, Pen still maintained a close relationship with the rest of his family. Personally he thought Fran and Pen's personalities suited better anyway. It helped that their estates were only an hour and a half carriage ride away and that John and James were such good friends they were able to visit each other at least once a month. Perhaps it made him disloyal but he understood why Penelope never trusted Eloise again. She forgave her but she didn't forget all El's betrayals. Pen treats El as a distant childhood acquaintance. Penelope is all polite formal civility and It drives El crazy, but she took things too far and has to live with the consequences.

He realizes he is in love with Penelope the second he lifts her daughter into his arms. He looks upon on a tiny perfect little face that is the exact replica of his dear Pen and feels his whole soul cry. He can suddenly see it so clearly, all the missed opportunities, that led to this moment. This glorious, perfect miniature of his beloved friend held in his arms should have a head of wild chestnut curls instead of the head of golden curls she has. He has been in love with Penelope for years and everyone in his family knew it except him. He finally understands all the looks and the whispers his family exchanged in 1815 and after. They were all waiting for him to realize the fact that he helped marry off the woman he was in love with.

He handed off the love of his life to another man, to another family. He can see now how much his entire family missed Penelope. His blindness deprived his siblings all of a beloved family member they had all counted on. He can also see now that Pen is seated here with his family once more he also deprived her of the comfort and love she has always found among the Bridgertons. He knows James has a minuscule amount of remaining family. That illness and bad luck has reduced the once great Debling family to only James, Pen, Agatha, his elderly mother and infirm elderly aunt.

Penelope had written to mother that her and James hope to fill their estate with half a dozen children at least. She loves him and the life they are building but she gets lonely sometimes out in the Scottish countryside so far from all she has known. He knows Penelope hoped to marry into a large family so her children could grow up with an army of cousins and family around them. Were he not stupid she would have that.

Later that night after everyone is in bed he sits at his Father's graveside and cries his heart out. He allows himself just this one night to wallow in grief for the life he gave up unknowingly. It hurts because watching her with her husband he realizes that she was in love with him once. Once but no longer, she moved on. He claimed he would never court her and broke her heart, so she let him go. His strong, clever girl learned to love again. He is the dumbest bastard in the world.

Truly James is a good man, who treats Pen like the queen she is, so he can make his peace with it. Tomorrow he will comfort himself with Penelope's joy and the knowledge that he has the next ten months to spend with her, Agatha and his family. He will get to witness her bloom with new life and meet her newest child while they are still a newborn. Yes he is sad but he will not be selfish with Penelope. Her happiness comes first.

He spends the next six months watching his family and Penelope reveling in mischief and chaos together. He watches everyone fall head over heels in love with little Agatha, who Penelope calls her little dragon flower. He wraps himself up in the happiness of all the babies and toddlers at Aubrey Hall.

He watches entranced one day as Penelope sits on one of the loungers with little Edmund in her arms fast asleep on her bosom. His mother sits across from her on a rocking chair with Miles in her arms listening with a gentle smile on her face as Penelope sings a beautiful French lullaby. He had no idea Pen had such an angelic voice. He notices after that Daf is passed out on the sofa with Aggie napping and Fran is fast asleep with Belinda. Kate is passed with Agatha and Newton on a chaise. He wishes he had Benedict's talent for sketching to capture this idyllic scene, perfectly.

He hides away with his brothers and the children when the combined hormonal, pregnancy barrage that is Penelope at eight months, Francesca at seven months, Kate at six months, Daphne at five months becomes too overwhelming. Their mother's euphoric crowing about all her new grand babies can be heard non stop, Eloise hilariously, has taken to hiding away from all the females on the estate and insisting that Portia Featherington was correct all along and pregnancy was in fact something you can catch. She had declared that Penelope is clearly fertile enough to have infected all of Aubrey Hall with it.

Overall it is the liveliest Aubrey Hall has been since their father passed away. He soaks it all up in glee. He blushes with guilt when Agatha's and Miles' first sentence is "where my biscuit?" Then he spends a week dodging Kate and Pen's killing rage, over the knowledge that he had been sneaking the children biscuits, while his siblings mock him mercilessly over the debacle.

Little Thomas James Debling is born in Aubrey Hall on the first of January 1818, with a full head of wispy strawberry blond curls that looked like dandelion fluff. Colin spends that night once more seated at his father's Gravesite weeping with heartbreak. He had heard his Pen crying out for James in fear during her labors. There had not been any correspondence from James in the last 3 weeks they were all worried about it. Aubrey Hall usually received post from him at least once a week and yet there has been no word for almost a month. Ant and John had been making subtle inquiries but they didn't want to worry Pen or Fran so far along in their prenancies are they.

Their peace is shattered 4 days later when Michael shows up at the break of dawn looking exhausted and full of grief. Penelope was already awake from nursing little Thomas so she received him first. They all rush from bed to find Penelope collapsed into Michael arms keening and wailing a familiar bitter melody. Mother looks so stricken by it all seconds before she mobilizes everyone into action.

James much like Ant was paranoid about dying young so the estate and all legalities pertaining to it are already taken care of. Penelope Anne Debling becomes the Dowager Countess Debling at age 21. The slew of legal protections in place for Penelope and the children are to be finalized once Thomas's birth records are filed.

[tightjeansjavi]

The Hills Have Eyes | Chapter 3

“It’s Dieter’s world and we’re all just living in it”

A/N: So, before we get into the chapter I just wanted to put a disclaimer out there regarding the nature/genre of this fic.

Dieter is a very fluid individual. He is in an open sexual/romantic relationship (Polyamorous relationship) with his PR wife. Dieter and his wife are allowed to sleep with whoever they please (sometimes sharing partners/hookups) as long as it stays out of the medias eye. Dieter chooses to marry his wife because not only is she in his inner circle, she is just like him and therefore he knows he doesn’t have to hide who he truly is. Dieter and his wife are both bisexual and as someone who only recently came out as Bi this year, there will be moments where Dieter feels shameful of his lifestyle. Particularly because his sex life is extremely vibrant and fluid. That being said, things will get messy and in the eyes of Hollywood, things will ultimately be exposed. Dieter’s lifestyle may be triggering for some,and I will make sure that every chapter has the appropriate warnings listed. This series is stepping out of my comfort zone, but I am very excited to dive back into this story in particular.

~word count: 6.0k~

Pairing | Dieter Bravo x f!reader x OFC! (Aubrey Plaza face claim)

Summary: a glimpse into Dieter’s life 16 years later

Warnings: smut, polyamorous relationship/lifestyle, open relationship, multiple sexual partners, PR marriage, F/M, M/M partners, unprotected PIV, (wrap it kids) Anal sex, oral (m & f receiving) mentions of drinking and smoking weed, brief feelings of sexual shame, semi-public sex, dom/sub vibes (M/M) daddy kink, Dieter might be a bit of a sex addict, mentions of cheating, grudges from the past, old feelings rising, reader has no physical descriptions such as skin color, body-type, Dieters maid is described to be plus sized. There is one mention of Dieter holding her hair but no descriptions of her skin color. Readers nickname is Sweet Tart, No Age Gap, +18 minors dni! Please please let me know if I missed anything!

You wiped the sleeve of your hoodie against your cheek. The fabric was stained with your tears and remnants of makeup. You were sure that you had raccoon eyes from your mascara running down your cheeks, but did you care? No. Not when just a little under an hour ago you found your fiancée (now ex fiancee) balls deep inside your (now ex-best friend) How could they do this to you? How could he do this to you? You had just sent out the fucking wedding invitations last month. The venue was booked, and you already had your dream dress bought and stored safely in your closet.

Now none of that mattered as you nursed a cheap bottle of wine along the steps outside of your home. You didn’t hesitate to dial Dieter’s number in your moment of need. You had memorized it by heart, and despite the years that had passed with no communication, you were able to swallow what was left of your pride and call him. The dial tone rang, and rang, and rang, and just when you were about to hang up, Dieter picked up.

“Sweet Tart? To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing your number pop up on my screen?” Dieter spoke softly into the receiver.

“Dee..he—he cheated on me.” You spoke just above a whisper.

“Who did? Your fiancée? What’s the fucker’s name again? Eric? Fucking tool. Always was a prick back in highschool. Sweet Tart, I’m so sorry, my dear. Are you okay? Where are you?”

“He cheated on me with Melanie. I caught them in our bed. I got home from my meeting early and we—we were supposed to go out to dinner. I’m outside on the front steps of my home in San Francisco. That’s where I live now.” You sniffled and took another swig from the bottle of wine clutched in your fist.

“Mel? Wow. Always knew that one was a cunty little slut but I never would have thought that she would stoop that low.” He tsked disapprovingly under his breath. “San Fran huh? Well, why don’t ya leave and come back on over the bridge to Los Angeles. Leave that life behind and let those two assholes have each other. You could pawn the ring and burn all of the fucker’s pictures.”

You were full on sobbing now as the realization crashed down over you that your life had now drastically changed and it was no longer picture perfect on the outside. Tears were blurring your vision as you struggled to regain your shattered composure. “Dieter, I can’t just—I can’t just leave. I love my home and my job and there’s—there’s nothing for me in LA.”

“Oh, Sweet Tart. I’m so sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to make you cry. What do you mean there’s nothing for you in LA? Babe, I’m still here. Well, I live in the Hollywood Hills now but you’re more than welcome to come and visit, ‘kay?”

You pressed the rim of the wine bottle against your temple as you questioned why you called Dieter in the first place. Was it just the wine in your system talking? Did you miss your best friend that terribly, that you had no one else you could possibly call?

“Dieter, I appreciate your offer, but I can’t just leave my fucking life behind like you can.” Your tone was bitter and your words were harsh. You didn’t mean to snap at him, not really. You were just hurt and frustrated and overwhelmed. Everytime you closed your eyes you saw your ex fiancée drilling into your ex best friend in your fucking bed and it was all too fucking much.

“Sweet Tart, why did you just have to go and be so fucking mean, huh? I was just trying to make you feel better. You’re the one that called me. Go sob to someone else if you’re gonna be that way. I thought after 16 years you would have dropped that fucking ridiculous grudge that you’ve been holding against me. Here I thought that maybe my best fucking friend was just calling me because she missed me! Guess not, huh? Guess I was wrong again. I’m sorry that your fiancée cheated on you. He’s a rotten son of a bitch that clearly has no idea what he’s got. I’m even more sorry that your so-called best friend betrayed you like that too. The world fucking sucks sometimes, Sweet Tart. It chews you up and then fucking spits you back out. You’re not the first one to be cheated on like this and you won’t be the last. You wanna wallow away in self pity, and stay in that house and keep working that mediocre job? Be my fucking guest. Don’t call me crying, and then get upset when I tell you how you can fucking fix it.”

Fuck

“Dieter, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said, you know that right? I’m just hurt and angry and fucking overwhelmed! I know I shouldn’t have gone and taken that out on you. It’s been 16 years and I have no reason to hold anything against you.”

“No. You meant what you said. C’mon, Sweet Tart. You’re a big girl. Stand behind your fucking words.” The pads of his fingers pressed deeply into his temples as he sighed. He didn’t want to admit that your words really fucking hurt. They sliced right through him and obliterated his already pathetic heart.

“Listen, my offer still stands. I’ll text you my address, and if you want to come and visit, you’re more than welcome to. Just don’t go and leak it anywhere alright? You should maybe go and get a hotel room for the night or something. I wouldn’t want to sleep in my bed after all that but that’s just me. I’ll see how you’re feeling tomorrow morning, Goodnight, Sweet Tart.” Dieter didn’t wait for you to answer. He just went ahead and hung up the phone before tossing it on his towel that was resting on the pool chair.

“Dieter—Dieter?” You finished off the bottle as you struggled to pull yourself up to your feet. You could go and get a hotel room with no problem. Instead you found yourself going back inside of your home and plopping face first onto the couch.

Dieter reached for the abandoned joint that was left simmering on the edge of the heart shaped ashtray that had a Chanel logo in the middle of the vessel. He plucked the joint up between two fingers before placing it between his lips. His eyes fluttered shut as he took a long deep drag of the herb, holding the smoke in his lungs before exhaling it upwards towards the star painted sky. He reached for his phone and unlocked it with a couple taps on the screen. He opened the iMessage app and scrolled till he found your name. A moment of hesitation washed over him as he typed in his address. The hesitation he felt was soon erased as he hit send before tossing his phone to the side once more.

“She probably won’t come to see you. I wouldn’t get your hopes up.” Dieter spoke to himself through the dry California air. “On the off chance that she does show up..what am I to do then?”

He scratched at his patchy beard with a huff. The joint he was presently smoking was almost completely gone as he tapped a blur of ash into the tray. “Help her get over her stupid fucking excuse of an ex-fiancée.” He muttered as if the answer was painfully obvious.

Your phone thrummed along the coffee table, and even in your grief and drunken stupor, you knew it was your Dieter.

When you awoke the following morning you could barely open your eyes due to the residue of mascara causing your lashes to stick together as if there was glue on them.

You let out a frustrated huff and rubbed your knuckles against your eyes to loosen up the clumps of mascara.

Then, that dull pulsing pain in your skull began to breach the surface. Fucking cheap-ass-wine hangover.

You struggled to pull yourself up into a sitting position, squeezing your eyes shut when you felt a particular sharp pain. “I am never drinking again.” Something that every adult has probably said a handful of times in their life.

Once your eyes were well adjusted to the early morning light trickling in through the curtains, you forced yourself to get up, snatching your phone up from the coffee table as you headed straight for the kitchen; coffee was needed if you were to make it through the day.

While your coffee was brewing and you were greeted with the familiar drips falling into the coffee pot, you remembered your conversation with Dieter last night, and the things that you both said. Holding a grudge against your best friend..was not a smart move, but it wasn’t like you meant it. Not really, you were just frustrated and hurt, and people say shit they don’t mean when they’re upset all the time.

Your phone buzzing in your palm tore you away from your thoughts and then you saw Dieter's name flash on your screen, and your heart skipped a beat.

Hey, Sweet Tart, I apologize if I was mean to you last night. I know you’re just pissed off at that stupid fucking ex fiancée of yours. Anyway, let me know if you’re planning on visiting soon. I’d love to see you. Gets pretty lonely up here in the hills. It would be nice to see a familiar face.

Dieter sent you the text message after he had fixed himself a screwdriver cocktail with extra vodka to get his day started off on a happy note. Beverly was out of the country, filming for her next project, so Dieter was left alone to his own devices, naturally.

And what’s an actor, such as himself, to do in such an obnoxiously massive house tucked away from the public eye in the Hollywood Hills? Prance around in nothing but a silk robe, and stupidly expensive Chanel sunglasses. His music of choice for the morning was Queen’s, I Want To Break Free.

He had a perfectly rolled joint tucked behind his ear in a light pink rolling paper. He brought the rim of his glass to his lips and took a sweet indulgent sip, before he spun around on his heel to the rhythm of the music. His softened cock swung freely between his soft thighs.

Dieter was never shy of his sexual appetites, and those he wished to partake in them with. He’d never actually put a label on himself, but if the question ever arose, he’d proclaim himself a proud bisexual.

“It’s gonna be a good day, Bravo.” He hummed to himself and reached up for the joint tucked behind his ear. “It’s gonna be a good day indeed.” He reached for his lighter across the expanse of the counter top. He sparked the joint up, taking a long drag with his eyes softly shut in a relaxed blissful state.

They snapped open at the pleasant chime of heels clacking along polished tile. His maid, who he had been fucking with and without Beverly in the mix, was leaned against the entry way of the kitchen, clad in nothing but a garter belt and Louboutin heels that he purchased for her.

“Good morning , Mr. Bravo.” She purred through her pretty painted lips.

He drank in her attire (or lack thereof), her supple, luscious curves with a lazy grin plastered on his scruffy face. The joint dipped down between his lips while he admired her a bit longer, eyes raking down her body in a lustful gaze.

“Good Morning to me indeed, wowza.” He whistled. “Can I get a spin from ya, baby doll? Are those the pretty heels I got you? You’re absolutely rocking them, my dear.”

She giggled, soft and sweet. The heat rose to her cheeks from the compliment he bestowed upon her. “They are, sir. I think they’re quite pretty too.” She gave him a little spin, twirling around like a ballerina.

He pushed himself off the side of the counter in a very Dieter like fashion. His cock had begun to harden, coming to life at the sight of the beauty that confidently stood before him. “Beautiful.” He whispered, “just absolutely breathtaking.” He swooped in, hand finding purchase around the thick flesh of the curves on her ass. “I have to go for my morning swim, but after…” he trailed off with that knowing glint in his eye.

She dragged a perfectly manicured nail down the clavicle of his chest, swirling it around one of his nipples, the right one that was pierced with a shiny nipple ring through the middle. Her lips pouted like two rose petals, lashes fluttering in a flirtatious manner, “are you sure that your swim can’t wait a little longer, Dieter?” She cooed softly.

With his hand still clasped around his glass of vodka with a sprinkle of orange juice, he pressed his thumb down against her pretty pouty lips. The joint still pursed between his lips, blazing red-hot. “I’m sorry, pet. I promised Jackie I’d start every morning off with a relaxing swim. It keeps me from wanting to put the ‘bad’ stuff into my body.” He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

“Your agent is no fun, Dieter. I think she could use a little to loosen up..” she trailed off, letting her nail drag lower, and lower till she swirled it through the coarse, dark hair that sprouted up from beneath his pubic bone. His neglected cock twitched with that aching need, but he was trying to be good.

“She really could loosen up, doll face. I agree. But..I can’t go back on my promises.” He sighed rather dramatically while he kneaded the flesh of her ass between his thick ring clad fingers that glimmered under the patch of sunlight trickling in through the skylight on the high ceilings above their heads.

Just when his pretty faced maid was about to drag her nail across the weeping head of his cock, he declined because he really was trying to be good. “I promise, after my swim, I’m all yours.”

Dieters routine swim didn’t last as long as he planned it too..but to be fair, it was hard to turn down good pussy that was practically being served to him on a fucking silver platter. His naughty maid had laid herself out on one of his pool chairs, thighs spread wide for his view while her painted nails played with herself, dragging through the mess of arousal that leaked out for him. She kept her red bottoms on because she really did feel pretty in them, and she was grateful that Dieter was the type of celebrity to share his wealth with everyone.

Dieter found himself fixated on the spot between her thighs, glistening, pulsing under the rising hot California sun. He licked his lips, pupils darkening while he pulled himself out of the pool.

He feasted upon her sweetness, her taste. He lapped between her folds, dragging his tongue across her needy clit in long, languid strokes that had her throwing her head back in ecstasy. His hands were anchored under the thick flesh of her ass, keeping her spread wide open just how he liked it. The tip of his tongue swirled in a figure 8 motion that had his naughty maid crying out his name in no-time

Dieter. Dieter. Dieter.

His first meal of the day was one that left him feeling full, and satisfied. The scruff of his beard glistened in her release when he came up for a quick breath of air. “Naughty thing you are, doll face. Spread wide open for all of the Hollywood Hills to see?” He gave her left ass cheek a playful swat before his fingers dug in once more. “Naughty.” Another swat, a playful nip to her inner thigh. “Naughty.” Devious eyes peering up between her silken cunt, “Naughty” a whisper of warm breath that kissed her skin the way that rain does.

He was about to dive right back in, when his phone blared loudly on the poolside table. He grumbled from the disturbance before he pressed a chaste kit to her swollen clit. He sat up with a huff, running his fingers through his damp head of curls, and reached over her to grab his phone.

When he saw your name light up on his screen, he couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face, or the way his heart did a fucking somersault in his ribcage. “Sweet Tart is calling, you gonna be a good naughty maid and suck my cock while I take this call?” His brow raised suggestively in her direction, cinnamon brown eyes flickering with unabashed mischief.

His naughty maid was already sitting up on her knees along the pool chair, crawling towards him while he wrapped his hand around the base of his cock. He twisted his wrist in a languid, corkscrew motion, while his unoccupied hand swiped across the call button on the screen.

“Sweet Tart, how are you feeling this morning? I gotta say, I’m surprised that you called.” A hum nearly crawled up the back of his throat when his maid wrapped her pretty painted lips around the head of his cock. He threaded his fingers through her hair, gently holding her head. His ring clad fingers glistened under the blazing sun when she began to slowly bob her head.

“Hey, Dee. I feel like shit.” You laughed softly through the receiver, biting down gently on the tip of your thumbnail. “I’m sorry..for how I treated you last night.”

Dieter allowed himself to take one shuddered breath when he felt the tip of his cock kiss the back of his maids throat. The little gagging noise she made sent his eyes rolling back into his skull. “How come you feel like shit, Sweet Tart? It's okay. I know you didn’t mean what you said. You were just upset, and understandably so.” He glanced down at his maid, and in a praising motion he mouthed, good girl.

“Too much shitty cheap wine. My head is pounding out of my skull right now. Nothing a cup of coffee can’t fix, huh?” You sighed, leaning back against the countertop. “I know, Dee, but you’re my best friend. I shouldn’t hold a grudge against you just because we’ve barely spoken in sixteen years. It’s not fair to you.”

“Well, that’ll do it. But you know the best cure to a hangover is to keep drinking, Sweet Tart. You really don’t have to apologize, okay? All is forgiven. I’m not going to hold a grudge either.” He paused, thinking over his next choice of words carefully. “Have you given any more thought to my offer? It still stands, and I’d love to see my best friend again.”

He took his lower lip harshly between his teeth when he felt his cock twitch in his maids mouth. It was becoming increasingly difficult for him to hold back a groan from bubbling over. He made the executive decision to pull himself out of her wet mouth with a soft pop. He used his chin to press his phone against his shoulder so that his hands were free to mold his naughty, and very eager maid in the position he wished to fuck her in. His hands wrapped around the outside of her thighs as he gradually pressed her knees towards her chest.

“I won’t apologize for it again, Dee. I promise. I thought about your offer, and I’ll gladly take you up on it. I have some work I need to finish up..but I was thinking of driving over Friday? Does that work with your schedule?”

Dieter dragged the tip of his cock through her slick folds, rolling his hips forward slowly, catching her clit along the head of his cock. “Oh, Friday sounds perfect to me, Sweet Tart. I can always send a car over for ya if you’d like?”

An extremely light hiss slipped past his parted lips when he finally began to sink into her warmth, loving the way that her pussy pulled him in, inch by inch till he was bottomed out, hips pressed tight to her ass.

That’s it, beautiful. He mouthed to her.

“Oh, that’s okay, Dee. I don’t mind driving myself. But that’s kind of you to offer.”

Dieter hummed through the receiver while he dropped his hand to rest along her hip, ogling at the where their bodies were connected. He drooled a glob of saliva right between the space and used the pad of his thumb to rub it against her clit in tight circles.

“Listen, Sweet Tart, I’d love to keep chatting, but I got a call on the other line. I can’t wait to see you Friday. Let me know when you’re on your way, ‘kay?” His voice was raspier now, deeper, and even a little strained. He thrusted his hips forward, falling into a steady rhythm that had both him and his maid feeling satisfied for the moment.

“I understand, Dee. I should probably take a shower and make myself look presentable. Anyway, I can’t wait to see you as well. I hope you have a good rest of your morning.”

He suppressed a growl, doing everything he possibly could do to not give himself away. “You too, Sweet Tart.” He ended the call in a haste, tossing it to the side, not caring if it fell to the ground and shattered. He grabbed her wrists in his freehand, pressing them above her head in one swooping motion.

“Who’s Sweet Tart?” His maid couldn’t help but ask. It was an innocent question of course. There was no harm behind it. She met his thrusts midway with a gentle roll of her hips into his. A free falling moan slipped past her painted lips. Dieter swallowed it, tongue and all while he pried her thighs apart so he could squeeze himself between them.

“My best friend.” He mumbled into her lips. He continued to strum her clit with his thumb, picking up the pace with his calculated strokes. “She’s coming to visit me this weekend. Haven’t seen her in sixteen years.” He grunted low and deep, dropping his forehead to hers.

She whined beneath him, wrapping her ankles around his hips to draw him in even deeper. “Fuck, Dieter. Your cock is so—”

“Big?” He chuckled in a cocky tone, pulling his hips back slightly before slamming them forward. “I know it is, doll face.” “And your pussy? It’s fucking tight. Silky, warm. So glad you kept the heels on, baby. Y’look so goddamn pretty in them.”

And then, of course when they were both on the edge of an impending orgasm, his goddamn phone rang again, but this time it was Jackie, and she’d have his head if he ignored her call.

Frustrated, and unintentionally edging himself, Dieter reached for his phone, answering it with an anger grumbled breath. “For fuck sakes, Jackie. I’M BUSY!” He snapped through the receiver, not caring if he would get chastised for it. He hated being interrupted when he was on the verge of coming.

“Well, good morning to you too, Bravo.” She snickered on the other end.

“This better be fucking important, or I swear to god.” In the same breath he whispered to his maid to get on all fours. He slipped out of her wet, hugging warmth, impatiently.

“Just wanted to check in and make sure you got your laps in today. Oh, and don’t forget, you have dinner with Nicolas Cage tonight at seven. Do not be late.”

Dieter fought the urge to roll his eyes because goddammit, Jackie, this couldn’t wait??

“Yeah, yeah. I got my laps in alright. And I was absolutely enjoying the fabulous sunshine, and being balls deep inside of my gorgeous maid when you oh so rudely interrupted us!” His tone was clipped and cold. He gave his cock a few quick tugs before he lined himself at her entrance, notching his tip between the seam of her pussy and slipped right back in. He gave her ass a firm smack!

“Dear god, Dieter. That is information that I definitely did not need to know.” He could already picture Jackie rubbing her temples, and shaking her head.

“Yeah?” He grunted deeply, and placed his hand against the curve of her spine, pressing her down further into the pool chair. She arched her back towards him, letting out a string of profanities when the tip of his cock reached that spongy spot inside of her deliciously. “Well, maybe don’t call me before nine a.m next time!”

“Dieter..it’s nine-thirty right now.”

He threw his head back frustratingly. “Oh my fucking god! Jackie, can I just call you back?!”

“Sure, Mr. Grumpy pants.”

He muttered a fuck off before he tossed his phone completely out of reach. It miraculously landed on one of the nearby pool chairs. (He couldn’t fathom having to get another phone)

He was kind enough to come on his maids back, painting her in hot ropes of his release. He tasted himself along her skin, dragging his tongue slowly through his come. He wrapped his fist through her hair, gently tugging her head back so that he could give her a proper kiss, and so she could have a taste as well.

He slipped out of her slowly, feeling somewhat satisfied, but his agent calling him really soured his mood. It was written all over his face.

“Dieter?..” She asked him while he was using a pool towel to wipe his come from her back, and between her thighs.

“Yeah, doll face?” He met her gaze, pursing his lips, feeling his shoulders sink forwards because he knew he didn’t do his job to the best of his abilities.

“Do you think you can?…” she trailed off.

“Of course I can. Hold that thought, ‘kay? Let me go grab something inside.”

He pressed a light kiss to her hip bone before he pushed himself up from the chair and sauntered back inside. He stopped in the kitchen for a couple quick puffs, before he continued on his mission. He felt slightly embarrassed, and a little angry that he didn’t do enough to make her come. He always had been a huge people pleaser, especially when it came to pleasing his sexual lovers.

He shook that gnawing feeling of shame off his shoulders for now. He dug out his box of sex toys from their home in his walk-in closet; There wasn’t anything that his Hitachi wand couldn’t do.

And so he fucked her again, this time with no interruptions, and with the wand placed directly against her clit, it sent rapid vibrations through both of their connected bodies. It was a bonus that he got a second orgasm out of it as well.

In no time they were both a sweaty mess of tangled limbs with Dieter’s scruffy cheek pressed comfortably against one of her pillowy tits, lashes shut, breaths coming out in hot, quick pants. He pressed a chaste kiss to her clavicle before he pushed himself up on his elbows. “Let’s get ourselves cleaned up, shall we, doll face? Then I’m gonna cook us some well deserved breakfast.” He hummed.

She nodded blissfully, tangling her fingers through his messy head of curls. “Clean me up with your tongue, please?” She gestured with a cocked brow to the sticky, drooling mess between their still connected bodies.

With a lopsided, sex stained grin, the actor nodded with absolute enthusiasm. In a haste he slipped out with a soft, wet, squelching noise. The wand was tossed to the side, and his tongue delved between the seam of her pussy once more.

He loved to please.

It was approximately two hours before Dieter would be meeting Nicolas Cage for dinner, and the nerves were already beginning to tingle and bubble. The itch was building, crawling up his spine, but he was trying to be good. So, he’d have to relieve his impending anxiety in another way.

Dieter’s Dom frequently visited on the occasions when the actor needed him most. And right now, Dieter needed to clear his head desperately.

Dieter was in the shower, letting the scalding spray of water ease the strain in his back when the bathroom door creaked open. His eyes were closed as he felt the blood begin to rush to his cock in anticipated excitement. As much as the actor loved to fuck, he equally enjoyed being fucked as well.

His hand dropped down between his thighs, thumb stroking across the head of his cock. He was already imagining himself being split in two, right down the middle, while being called a good boy, when he heard the clink of a belt, and fabric dropping to the tile floor with a soft thump.

He rolled his shoulders forward, taking his lower lip between his teeth when he felt the presence of a rock solid body behind him, a strong arm wrapped around his middle yanking him back swiftly. His head lolled to the side, dropping against the man’s shoulder. He pumped his fist around himself a few times, feeling the heavy press of the man’s cock against his ass.

“Hey, pretty boy. Y’called?” The man’s voice was deep, lax, rumbling and low against the shell of Dieter’s ear.

“Mhmmm. Hiii.” Dieter whimpered with his lower lip still trapped between his teeth. His back arched, molding into the man’s hard chest and taut stomach. “We gotta make this quick, ‘kay? Got an important dinner tonight with Nicolas Cage.”

“Mmm.” The man hummed against Dieter’s ear, nipping at the lobe with his teeth. “That’s nice, baby boy. We can make this fast, sure. How about you bend over a lil’ for me and spread your cheeks.” He commanded firmly.

Dieter's cock twitched pathetically in his hand from just the man’s voice alone. “Mhmm, daddy. That’s the one. It’s a big deal for my career. M’so excited..” he trailed off while he released his cock from his grasp. He slowly bent over, reaching behind him and placed his ring clad fingers on both cheeks, spreading them apart. He could feel the man’s hot gaze drifting downwards.

“Always such a good little cockslut for me, baby boy. You’ll have to tell me all about your little dinner with Nicolas Cage next time..” he purred, placing his hand against the actor's lower back, pressing him forward while he grabbed a hold of his own cock in his fist. He gave his wrist a few twists, spitting right on the head of his cock before he notched the head between Dieter’s spread cheeks. “Y’ready for me, baby boy?”

“Mhmm. Please fuck me, daddy.” He dropped one hand from his ass to steady himself against the cool tile. He pressed himself back against the man’s cock, inch by inch till he was fully seated on it.

An exchange of deep grunts followed by the man’s hand making harsh contact with Dieter’s left ass cheek. He lurched forward, both from the fullness he was feeling, and the sting along his skin. “Fuck yourself on it, baby boy. Let’s see you do all the work yourself.” He growled.

Dieter remembers the first time he gave into his sexual desires with another man. The first time he sucked a cock with tears rolling down his cheeks, and drool dripping down his chin while he sat prettily on his knees. He remembers the first time he kissed a man, dragged his fingers through a man’s happy trail, left lovebites, and felt the pleasant scrape of another man’s beard against his thighs. He remembers the first time he felt the stretch of a cock, the slap of a man’s balls against him, and he loved it.

“Y—yes, daddy. Whatever you want.” He stuttered out, knees nearly buckling as he rolled his hips and ass back in a circular motion, fucking himself along the man’s cock like the good boy he was.

“That’s it, good boy. Such a good boy fucking yourself on my cock.” He praised the actor while he kneaded the soft flesh of his ass between his thick fingers. He met his thrusts halfway.

“Daddy, I—I—need more. Please. Please.” Dieter begged.

“What do you need, baby boy? Need me to take over already?” The man chuckled, giving his ass another firm smack.

“Mhmmm. Please, daddy. I need you to split me in half, please. Fuck me stupid, big boy.”

That’s all it took for his Dom to give in, and Dieter was seeing stars dancing behind his closed eyes as his Dom yanked him back up against his chest, arm possessively wrapped around his middle, and his hand splayed against Dieter’s throat. He fucked into him at a punishing pace, wet skin slapping against wet skin.

“Fuck, daddy! Y—yess! S—so good to me! Hnngh. Thank you! Thank you.” He cried out, hand wrapping around the base of his cock once more. “Tell me you love me, daddy. Tell your baby boy that you love him.” He groaned deeply, feeling himself already begin to fall apart.

“Daddy loves you, baby boy. He loves you, and this tight fucking ass.” The man grunted against his ear, hot breath kissing his skin.

It didn’t take long for Dieter to hit his crashing orgasm, fist pumping wildly around his cock as he coated the ridiculously expensive shower wall in thick, hot ropes of his come.

On the drive over to the restaurant that Dieter would be meeting Nicolas Cage at, he felt relaxed, confident, and in character. Dieter would always pretend to be anyone but himself when he’d meet new actors, business partners, and the likes of Hollywood. It was as if he had a switch that he could just turn on at random, and when needed. Landing this role would be a huge deal for the actor, and there was no room for him to screw the pooch on this one.

I’m Dieter Fucking Bravo, and I can do anything.

This was his ritual mantra.

He remembered then that he needed to call Jackie, and let her know that he was on his way, and that he needed her to clear his schedule for the upcoming weekend.

“Are we less grumpy than we were this morning, Dieter?” She asked through the smooth sounding speakers in his car.

Dieter thrummed his fingers against the sleek leather steering wheel of his jet black, Aston Martin DB5.

His car was his baby, and his first official ‘big boy’ purchase after becoming an actor.

“Not an ounce of grumpiness in me, Jackie. I’m on my way to the restaurant as we speak.” He said smoothly.

“Oh, good! I spoke with Nick’s agent, and I don’t want you to start celebrating yet, but there is a high chance that you’re going to be co-starring in his next film.”

Dieter perked up from her words, trying to hide the smile that was threatening to spill over his face. “Really? You’re serious about that?”

“As serious as they come, kid. But hey, don’t blow this one alright? I think you’re the perfect fit for the role, personally.”

“Pssh. Me? Blow this? Nuh-uh. Not gonna happen! Especially in front of Nicolas Cage! I’d rather step on a nail, or remain abstinent for the rest of my life.” He chuckled.

“Oh, that’s a good one, Bravo. I almost believed you there.” She laughed, and he could picture her shaking her head.

“Jackie? Do you think you can do me a favor and clear my schedule for me this weekend? I have important plans that I can’t miss.”

“Oh? And what is the occasion for these important plans of yours?”

Dieter scratched at the patches between his beard as he rolled his shoulders forward before he leaned back against the crisp leather seat. A smile tugged across his lips, and his heart began to race at the thought of you, his Sweet Tart coming to see him.

“Sweet Tart is coming into town Friday. We're finally gonna reunite after all of these years apart.”

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[phyllisthefirst]

Standing here until you make me move or The One with all the Dates 

The "Plus One"-option on Bill's wedding invitations sends George into an existential crisis. His solution? Go on as many dates as possible to find someone to bring to the wedding. Which is ridiculous, because Joe is right here and has been in love with George for ages. The problem? He doesn't know if George knows, and he sure as hell doesn't know how to tell him. [Warnings: Mention of predatory behavior, lots of alcohol consumption, tooth-rotting fluff.]

The first time Joe asks George out, his friend actually laughs. 

Luckily for Joe’s pride, he wasn't really asking him out, not in a “will you go on a date with me”-sort of way. It was more like Bill trying to not-very-subtly hint that maybe George should come to his wedding as Joe’s date and George finding the mere suggestion hilarious. 

Because that’s how it all starts, with the Plus One-option on Bill’s wedding invitations sending George into a full-blown crisis. 

“Some of our friends are already getting married, and I can’t even get a plus one,” he laments into his rum and coke. 

“I didn’t even know you were looking to date someone,” Joe points out, very sensibly he thinks. (He should have known that George wouldn’t respond well to “sensible”.)

“You’re right, it’s no wonder I don’t have someone to bring to the wedding - I wasn’t even dating. But that changes now.”

And so it begins. 

Before Joe has had a chance to grasp the full meaning of George’s declaration, George is on his phone, registering for three different dating apps. The rest of the night, he’s busy uploading photos and writing quippy introductions and swiping right on what must be the entire gay population of Philadelphia. 

Joe tries not to let his face show how much it stings: Here he is, a friend who’s been through thick and thin with George, who’d do anything for him, and who can’t imagine anything he’d like more than to sit next to George at Bill and Fran’s wedding, to dance and flirt with him and take him home at the end of the night - but George would rather take a chance on an army of strangers.

With a sigh, Joe takes a long draft of his beer, turning his attention to the TV mounted behind the bar. It’s showing a hockey game he would normally be interested in, but right now, he barely registers the score. The only thing he’s aware of, out of the corner of his eye, is the regular motion of George swiping on his phone. 

He can only hope that this idea, like many of George’s stupider ones, fizzles out quickly. 

***

It doesn't. George goes at the task of finding a date with the single-minded zeal of a hyperactive pitbull. 

The problem is, George doesn't seem to be very good at dating people that would actually be a good fit for him (in Joe's humble though admittedly biased opinion). 

[Read on ao3]

Joe knows this because unfortunately, George decides to bring his dates to Currahee, the bar conveniently owned by their mutual friend Bill, where Joe helps out behind the bar a few times a week because Bill can't afford to hire an actual second bartender. George claims it's convenient because he lives just one block over, and as much as it pains Joe to watch the parade of losers George has decided to pick over him, at least this way he knows all those dates are taking place in a safe, public space. If a few shitty nights are the price Joe has to pay for that, so be it. 

And, it has to be said, the nights suck for both of them - because George's dates are terrible. 

The first date is with a guy who won't shut up about his crypto scam, and even tries to get George to invest. George is trying so hard to please the man - his first date in months, he confided in Joe beforehand - that he almost signs up for it. Joe has to intervene by accidentally spilling a glass of beer over the guy’s phone. The douchebag immediately starts yelling for Joe's manager and demanding he be fired or possibly stoned to death, until George gets to his feet, a hard look in his eyes, and shoves in between Joe and his irate and surprisingly buff date.

“Look, dude, you need to chill. It was an accident. I can give you my insurance details and we can get it sorted, if you really can't afford to replace it on your own.”

Joe has to hide a grin as the man huffs, murmurs something rude and strides out, sticky phone clutched tightly in his hand. George may appear ditzy sometimes, but he's got a sharp brain and a real knack for manipulating people. (A talent that would be suspicious if Joe wasn't so sure that George would only ever use it for good.)

“Thanks,” Joe says, gets behind the bar and pours George a shot of Bourbon, one of the good ones from the high shelf. Bill would give him shit for it but Bill doesn't need to know. He slides it over, noticing George's questioning glance. “For saving me from having to pay up for that stupid expensive phone.”

George takes a sip of his drink before he raises his eyes to look at Joe for an unnervingly long time. 

“I'm not sure if you weren't the one who saved me first.” Joe can practically hear the gears turning in George's head as he tries frantically to keep his face impassive. 

He's saved by the arrival of a particularly boisterous group of guests, some of whom are regulars who know George and pull him over to their table. Still, as he turns his attention to the bar and the glasses that need cleaning, he can still feel George's eyes on him. 

***

The next date isn't quite as eventful, but it's with another wildly incompatible person and George seems bored to tears. The third one goes similarly, which really makes Joe wonder why the hell people would ever try and find someone on those dating apps. Isn't the point of those that you can get to know someone a little bit before you meet, find out if you have similar interests? But the man on George's third date spends the entire evening talking about his camping trips and the long hikes he's planning, and Joe knows from painful experience that George hates anything outdoorsy that goes beyond lounging around in the park. 

On the fourth date, Joe nearly intervenes again. The conversation seems to be going fine, flowing smoother than on the other three dates, but Joe can't help but notice how George's date keeps egging him on to drink, keeps ordering new rounds. An hour into the date, George looks glassy-eyed and tipsy and his date keeps crowding into him, leaning into his space, putting his hands all over him. Joe watches from behind the bar, noticing with growing alarm that George seems more and more uncomfortable, repeatedly making it a point to lean back or try to subtly remove the man's hands from his body. The message doesn't seem to get through. 

Bill, who came by to relieve Joe, is watching the scene with equal unease, eyes glued to the two men before them. Somehow, he still notices when Joe sets down his towel and makes a move to get out from behind the bar and tell the creep to get out. Bill's hand on his arm stops him. 

“Don't. He can do this on his own. We'll keep an eye on them but you can't swoop in to try and save him.”

Rationally, Joe knows Bill is right. George may be small but he's by no means frail. It's just that he's also friendly and never wants to hurt anyone's feelings, and sometimes that translates into never telling anyone No. But on this evening, Joe's worrying turns out to be for nothing: not two minutes later, George abruptly gets to his feet. Even in the dim light of the bar Joe can tell how pale he is. 

“This isn't going to work,” he says, voice flat, before he turns and walks out. 

This time, Joe doesn't let Bill stop him when he strides out after his friend. 

“George!”

George flinches at the sound of his name but turns around after a second. For an instant, relief flashes across his face, followed by something that looks uncomfortably like embarrassment. 

“That was bad, huh? Should have probably ended it sooner.”

“As long as you ended it.” Joe wants to comfort his friend, to tell him that he did the right thing and he's proud of him, but as always, the right words don't seem to find him.

“I guess you would have just socked him in the face.” George sounds bitter, and Joe just knows he's somehow coming to the conclusion that the other man's shitty behavior was his own fault.

“Maybe. Maybe I would have frozen up. I don't know, George, because I've never been in this situation. But it doesn't matter. What matters is that you got yourself out of it.”

George scoffs. “By running away like a scared kid.”

“By drawing boundaries and sticking to them. What you just did was brave, George. You should be proud of yourself.”

George doesn’t look entirely convinced but he also doesn’t protest. Joe hopes that his words have lodged themselves in George’s mind and that maybe, however long in the future, they’ll help him see himself the way Joe sees him. 

“You want me to walk you home?”

George shakes his head. 

“I think I need to be alone right now.”

“Alright. If you do want some company later, just call me, alright?” 

You’re not alone, he wants to add. You have people who love you. But George has a habit of helping everyone else and refusing help when he needs it himself, so Joe doesn’t want to push and risk that he’ll retreat further. 

“Thanks, Joe.” 

George still looks a little down, understandably, but before he turns to walk away, Joe notes that he’s less pale than he was just a moment ago. Tamping down on the urge to fuss over him some more, Joe watches his friend walk away, eyes tracking him until he turns into his own street, before he walks back inside the bar. 

George’s sleazy date is still inside, arguing with Bill about not wanting to pay for all those drinks he pushed on George. Joe retreats behind the bar, knowing there’s no need for him to intervene. Before anything else, Bill Guarnere is a stubborn son of a bitch - it’s only a matter of time until the creep realizes he’ll be lucky if an empty wallet is all he walks out with tonight. 

***

For about a week after that night, George doesn't have a date lined up. Instead, he asks Joe if he wants to hang out and watch a movie on Saturday and they do, just the two of them because all of their friends are busy, according to George. 

George, who came in looking like he hadn't slept in days, falls asleep twenty minutes into the movie and doesn't wake up until the credits roll, and Joe feels simultaneously like the luckiest and the unhappiest man alive. 

He doesn’t wake him up, just drapes a blanket over him and makes breakfast the next morning. 

***

Date five is another bust, though at least it's not as unsettling as the one before, just a rather short evening of lukewarm conversation. The guy bails out after less than an hour with a classic fake emergency and leaves George behind looking absolutely dejected. 

This time, Joe doesn't even bother to hide that he's taking the good Gin when he fixes up a drink and takes it over to George's table. 

George looks up and smiles at him, but it's a mere shadow of his usual 1000-watt-smile.

“I think I'll just head home. Thanks for trying to cheer me up though.”

George leaves and Joe returns behind the bar, pensively sipping the excellent Gin and Tonic he knows George would have loved. 

He's greeted by the smack of a towel across his thigh (the non-prosthetic one, so it really stings) and a glowering Bill.

“Hey! What was that for?”

“That was for being an idiot! Why don’t you just tell him you actually want to go out with him and spare us all this torture?”

“What would be the point? He’s obviously not interested.” 

“Why, because he’s dating a bunch of assholes?” 

“He clearly thinks that anyone would be better than me.” 

“Maybe he just doesn't know you're an option at all, have you thought about that?”

He has, but it doesn't seem likely. Sure, Joe doesn't exactly wear his heart on his sleeve, and George can be a little distracted sometimes. But surely after he's been pining after his friend for literal years now, George must have noticed something. He's good with people, almost creepily perceptive when it comes to all things social, so there's no way he doesn't know how Joe feels. Joe just always figured he didn't want to make things weird for them by bringing it up, which would be typical of George - always looking out for others' feelings. 

Joe doesn't reply, too afraid of what will come spilling out if he opens his mouth now, but Bill seems to get it and doesn't probe. 

“That Gin is coming out of your paycheck by the way.”

“What paycheck?”

Bill just flips him off.

***

The sixth date is the best for George by far, and the absolute worst for Joe. Because for once, George and his date seem to actually hit it off. 

They're talking and laughing the entire evening, heads bent together to show each other stuff on their phone. George's eyes are sparkling and he's smiling the whole time and he's never looked better. 

When the two of them leave together just after midnight, it's Joe who needs a drink - plucked from the bottom shelf but filled to the brim. 

Bill doesn't say anything. 

***

Oddly enough, despite their clear connection, date number 6 doesn't make a repeat appearance. 

“He was great and we had a lot of things in common, but we didn't click romantically,” George explains the next time they’re hanging out at Currahee (they really should find some other place to hang out. Maybe pick up a hobby other than drinking.). “I've invited him to my DnD group though.”

So George has made a friend but still doesn't have a date for the wedding. Joe feels a flash of relief, immediately followed by guilt because that's his friend and he deserves to find love. 

He pours George a drink and takes one for himself while he's at it. Despite George's cheerful tone, Joe can tell this whole thing is getting him down. 

***

Still, George won't be kept down for long. Three days later, he's at it again, and Joe finally reaches the end of his tether. 

He's witnessed a lot of deplorable behavior on those so-called dates, but date number seven  takes the cake. For the entire evening, George tries his hardest - makes conversation, asks about the other man's interests, and fires off joke after joke. 

The man doesn't laugh at a single one. And then he has the nerve to interrupt George halfway through a genuinely funny story to ask derisively:

“Do you always talk this much?”

That's when Joe sees red. Because yes, George always talks this much and especially if he's nervous, but that's one of the things that make him him. And if that guy can't appreciate that, or feels the need to put him down for it, then he has no business wasting George's time. 

George may appear like nothing more than a fun-loving goofball on the surface, but deeper down, he’s smart and warm and caring and able to be quiet when it counts. After Joe’s accident, it was Bill’s aggressive brand of tough love and George’s cheerful but never patronizing support that got him through the worst. 

In short, George deserves better than this asshole. 

Before he’s properly thought about it, Joe is standing by George’s table, glaring down at his friend. He’s pissed at the asshole sitting across from him, but more than that, he’s pissed at George for letting himself get treated this way. 

“I need to talk to you,” Joe blurts out. 

“Now? I’m kind of in the middle of something here.” 

“Now.” 

George murmurs an apology, then follows Joe behind the bar. 

“What the hell is going on?”

“Why are you letting that guy talk to you like that?” 

“Like what?”

“You know. Talking down to you.”

“He wasn’t that bad…” George starts, but Joe is all out of patience. 

“He’s an asshole. And so were at least two more in your parade of morons. And yet you keep going out with them. So why do you do this to yourself?”

“I told you, I don't want to go stag to Bill's wedding.”

“Who gives a shit about Bill's wedding?” 

“Hey!”, comes a muffled protest from the storage room. Joe pulls George out the back exit - Bill has already witnessed too much of this shitshow.

“It's not just about Bill's wedding, okay? I just… I don't want to be alone anymore.”

“That's not a good enough reason to waste your time on assholes who walk all over you or try to take advantage.” 

George opens his mouth as if to protest, but Joe doesn't let him. He doesn't talk much, usually, but he figures it's about time he said his piece.

“Besides, you're not alone, alright? You've got me and Bill and all our friends.”

“It's not the same though. I want…”

“I know. And I'm telling you: You've got me.” George still looks confused. Joe’s never been good with words, he knows that, but it suddenly feels vital to really make himself clear for once. “If you wanted me like that, you could have me.”

“I… you… what?”

“I told you I'd go to the wedding with you. Hell, I'd go anywhere with you. And of course I'll respect if you don't want that, but you have to stop putting up with assholes who treat you like garbage. You're worth more than that.”

And then Joe witnesses something he hadn’t thought was possible until now: George is all out of words. He just keeps staring at Joe, mouth slightly open, eyes wide as saucers. 

Having to be the one to keep a conversation going with George of all people is not something Joe has ever experienced, but if he has to, he’ll do it. He’s on a roll anyway, after keeping everything in for so long.  

“I'm in love with you. And it's okay if you don't feel the same way about me. But I need you to know that you’re great, and…” 

Joe doesn’t get a chance to continue what would be a very long list of everything great about George, because he’s suddenly cut off by a pair of lips on his. 

George’s lips, to be precise. 

They’re soft but purposeful, and it’s gratifying though not at all surprising to find that they’re not just talented at talking a mile a minute. 

Now it’s Joe who freezes in surprise, but George seems to be recovering well from his initial shock. His hands, which were on the collar of Joe’s jacket to pull him in for that spectacular kiss, are now sliding around Joe’s neck and into his hair, fingertips scratching along his scalp in a way that makes goosebumps race along his skin. 

Belatedly, Joe realizes that that’s something he’s allowed to do as well, and he puts his hands on George’s waist, gently at first and then, when George pushes closer, digging in a little firmer. It’s a good decision, because he was still not entirely sure that this is really happening, that he didn’t just slip on the constantly wet floor behind the bar and hit his head (he keeps telling Bill he needs to buy some safety mats).

But no, this is real: George’s waist under his hands, sporting the tiniest hint of love handles because George always slacks off on going to the gym in the winter, George’s chest flush against his, his hands still running through Joe’s hair, his lips wandering from Joe’s mouth to the edge of his jaw and along his neck to catapult Joe right back out of his body. 

He moans and George’s breath hitches against his skin, his hips stuttering forward and God, he’s tempted to drag George back inside and straight to the bathroom to see what he might try to make him do that again… But there’s something they should be doing first. 

“George…” he pants. He should be embarrassed to be so out of breath, but then who wouldn’t be, in his place? George doesn’t react, still nuzzling into his neck and making it hard to think straight, and he just barely manages to repeat his name. 

Slowly - reluctantly, something inside Joe sings - George pulls back to look at him. He’s flushed, his lips red and puffy and if Joe thought he looked good the other night, smiling at the date that luckily just turned into a new friend, it’s nothing compared to how he looks now, slightly dazed and a little goofy and the most beautiful thing Joe has ever seen. 

“George, I… I need you to say something.” 

George shrugs. 

“What’s there to say? I’m in love with you too. I just had no idea you felt the same.”

“I asked you to go to the wedding with me.” 

“No, Bill told me to go to the wedding with you, and you just sort of grunted and glared at him. How the hell was I supposed to know you wanted the same thing?”

Joe lets his head drop forward on George’s shoulder, understanding only belatedly that he’s embarrassed. After all, if he had the guts to tell George how he’s feeling, they could have spared themselves a lot of terrible dates.  

“I guess I’m not good at talking about my feelings.” 

George huffs out a laugh. “Terrible. But you managed it in the end, and that’s all that matters.” 

He pulls back a little, ducking his head so he can catch Joe’s eyes. 

“Wanna get out of here?” 

Joe doesn’t have to be asked twice. He barely remembers to stick his head in the door to call out to Bill that he’s leaving early tonight. 

Bill takes one look at him, presumably looking just as messy as George, smirks, and makes a shooing motion with his hands. 

“Get outta here.” And then, because Bill can never resist being an asshole: “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” 

“That rules out practically nothing,” George comments with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, and Joe leans down to steal another kiss before they start making their way to George’s apartment, taking a lot longer than they usually would because they have to stop every few steps to kiss again. 

They’re halfway up the stairs to George’s apartment when something occurs to Joe. 

“Hey, if you felt the same way, why didn’t you say something?” 

George shrugs. “Because I thought there’s no way in hell you would want me. I mean, look at us.” He gestures vaguely at the space between them, and Joe stifles a sigh. 

Clearly, between his own inability to communicate and George’s criminal lack of self-esteem, they have some things to work on. 

But that can wait, at least for today. 

***

Later, after they’ve made out all over George’s apartment but they haven’t talked all that much - because like George put it, what else is there to say? - George draws back from yet another steamy kiss to look at Joe, studying him the way he’s been doing sometimes. For a moment, he just looks, his fingertips running feather-light along Joe’s jaw. Then he laughs softly and shakes his head. 

“I can’t believe I could have been doing this for weeks,” he says, almost to himself, with an awe in his voice that makes warmth unfurl inside Joe. 

“This?” Joe raises an eyebrow, hoping to make George blush, but the other man meets his eyes with no shame and smiles impishly. 

“You.” 

Joe barks out a laugh, then leans in to steal a quick kiss from George’s lips. 

“George? You could have been doing this for years.” 

Now George’s eyes widen and that coveted blush does appear. 

“Years?” He squeaks. Joe nods, and George lets his forehead thunk against his shoulder. “I’m an idiot.” 

Joe can’t help but smile again, too happy for his usual admonishment that George needs to stop calling himself an idiot. Instead, he hooks his finger under George’s chin and forces him to lift his head, only so he can dip down and kiss him again. 

“Yeah,” he confirms as he draws back, a little breathless. “But you’re my idiot.” 

George doesn’t protest. 

Joe feels like his heart is going to explode right out of his ribcage. 

[themsource]

Fransweek '23 - Day 3

Theme: Tears Rating: T Pairing: UF Sans/Frisk - Shayromi's Frans Family Inspired Word Count: 1,043

I love the Underfell AU, I had to use it somewhere lol Cross posted to Ao3 here. @fransweek

When Frisk first fell underground she'd been an easily impressed naive child, too smitten with the mysteries of the underground and instantly taken to idolizing its intimidating and vicious inhabitants.

The monsters weren't really cruel like they'd have liked her and every other human to believe, they were just…rough around the edges. She'd witnessed each one laugh and tease, playfully groan and cry—display every range on the emotional spectrum.

Except for a certain skeleton that is.

Sans did all of those things too, except cry. He never shed a tear. Not once. He didn't whine or sob when Frisk had nearly lost her soul setting them free, didn't get misty eyed when he'd poured his thoughts out as a lost soul, and when Frisk had expected it most with everyone cheering and crying around them once they reached the surface—his sockets were still dry, his grin still relaxed and expression unbothered as sunlight glinted off his golden tooth for the first time.

Being so young and the way she was Frisk didn't think anything of it at the time. Sans had come across collected, smooth and confident. She'd figured he just wasn't the type to get emotional.

But then as the years passed and her maturity developed and intelligence grew she started to notice.

Sans didn't cry when they'd been separated for a few years for her ambassadorial duties and reunited, the time on the surface hadn't seemed to soften him like it had his brother Papyrus who'd nearly strangled her in his arms excitedly while crying tears of his own to match hers.

Sans didn't cry when after dancing around it for six months he'd finally found the courage to ask her out and she'd accepted, only grinned softly as she was left joyfully weeping alone.

He didn't cry at their wedding though unfathomable adoration and love had been plain to see in his gaze, didn't wail at the birth of their first child but looked beyond joyous that no words could adequately describe it, and didn't so much as whimper after a political incident where Frisk's life had been at risk when he'd come in a raging bull only to fall to his knees in concern when she'd been carefully lowered onto the paramedic's stretcher.

He'd been just as calm, reactive, and blunt just as he'd always been but never broken—never so overwhelmed his body could only produce his emotions in a physical reaction like it did for literally everyone else. Frisk resigned herself to thinking that Sans was simply incapable of such a thing. That maybe something had happened in his past or that he just defied nature both magical and non alike.

And then it happened.

She walked in on him cutting an onion one day, to find Sans sobbing like a baby.

Her eyes shot wide as saucers as his crimson eyelights warbled around the rims and the frame of his teeth trembled, thick globs of gelatinous raw magic pouring from his sockets and nasal both in continuous rivets. Frisk's mouth fell open, and she was rendered speechless. Sensing her presence Sans wiped an arm across his face, only making the mess bigger by smearing the magic across his skull like badly glowing lipstick as he sniffled.

"what?! c-can't ya see 'm tryin' ta make dinner here!?" His voice struggled between its usual deep transatlantic bass and a high pitched squeaky tone that cracked.

Frisk's brows raised to her hairline but she didn't say anything as she moved to stand next to him and look down at the onion he was chopping.

"...chewing gum usually helps me when I do it."

Sans shot her a glare, more of a pout as the tears undermined it.

"tried that."

Frisk laughed.

Her husband threw down the onion and knife and tossed his hands up before turning to her. "okay what!? just cuz i'm—i'm not a whimp ya hear me!? they sting and it just happens—"

She held up a hand as she tried to compose herself. Sans reluctantly quieted down but didn't look pleased in the slightest as he crossed his arms. He only wound up looking cute with how the warbling in his eyes became more apparent the bigger they got in his frustration.

"I just," she paused to wipe a tear away. "I'm surprised is all. I really thought you couldn't cry! How ridiculous is that?!"

Sans stared at her as Frisk once more started laughing. She laughed so hard she bent over and had to use the counter to support herself. His sockets widened, and then he snorted as he began to join in. When they both finally dissolved into tiny giggles and sighs he shook his skull.

"'course i can. just cuz you don't see it doesn't mean i don't." Frisk tilted her head curiously.

He responded with a shrug. "i just wait until no one's around. shower, in my 'study' as you call it. places i know i won't get found without warning."

She had to know.

"When we got married?"

"oh i cried like a lunatic, after you went to bed that night." He scoffed.

Frisk crossed her arms and grinned. "When Elys—"

"in a broom closet at the hospital, down the hall from your room." Sans looked up at the ceiling, nostalgic. "also had a small panic attack while i was at it worrying i'd drop her holding her that first time."

Frisk didn't know what to say. There was a sudden blooming in her chest, warm affection and tenderness that left her incapable of anything else but staring at the monster she loved. The intent must've been felt, as Sans looked at her and started blushing an adorable cherry red.

"what!?"

She shook her head and turned to finish off the onion. "I love you."

Sans didn't say anything at first, his arms around her waist was more than enough. But then he pressed his teeth to her throat in a mock kiss and hummed, "i know, lucky ain't i?"

This skeleton.

"Darn right you are!"

They both turned to see Elys in the kitchen doorway holding her baby brother Arno. "And you're supposed to say 'I love you' back, dad."

"Busted~" Frisk teased as Sans grumbled petty nonsense into her shoulder.

[littleragondin]

SHIPPER TAG GAME

I was tagged by @lurkingshan, thank you very much (´꒳`)♡ My memory is not the best so some of these are going to be a little challenging lol but let’s try!

1. What ship were you completely obsessed with when you were a teenager, but now you don't care anymore?

I don’t know how to “not care” about things I once loved I’m afraid lol. But ships that consumed my life that I now don’t think about very often and am more “what a good surprise to see you here, I still like you" than "oh you are back to consume my life for the next two to fifteen months" are most of the things I watched when I was younger: Logan/Max from Dark Angel, Sam/Jack and Daniel/Jack from Stargate:SG1, Jim/Blair from The Sentinel, Piper/Leo from Charmed, Tim/Tony and Gibbs/Tony from NCIS, etc...

2. Which ship would you consider your first one?

Hmmm… I think the first time I felt emotionally invested in two characters ending up together – in a “watching religiously and asking my mom to tape the wedding episode because we would be traveling on the day it was to be diffused” kind of way – is Fran Fine and Maxwell Sheffield from The Nanny.

We knew they were end game, but STILL!

3. Your first fanfic belonged to which couple?

Oh, good question… I came into fandom via manga and while they were not the ones I shipped the hardest (I was a hardcore Gaara/Lee fan ♡♡♡), I think the first fics I read were NaruSasu and/or Kakashi/Iruka – on personal fan websites.

The first shipping fic I wrote hmmm… I think it actually was some Kakashi/Iruka? I tumbled into fandom really fast once I found it so it’s a bit of a blur lol but yeah, pretty sure it was something Naruto related.

4. Do you remember the first couple you saw a fanart over?

… Not really, but probably either something from One Piece (Zorro/Luffy or Zorro/Sanji) or Neon Genesis Evangelion – those two were the very first manga I read (circa 2002), and I vaguely remember checking them on Google Image for my favorite hobby: “collecting images from the internet that I would then organize carefully in the computer’s little folders” so I must have found some cute stuffs that I didn’t even realize were shipping…

5. Did you ever get into ship discourse?

No. While I generally have strong opinions about stuff, I am pretty non confrontational and I’m here for a good time, not to fight with people, so I avoid it. I’ve seen stuffs that I’m glad I didn’t poke with a ten feet pole. On top of that, I am a huge believer and practitioner of “shipping one character with more than one person (in a polycule or not)” so ship wars have never made much sense to me. Even in qL, even when I really adore the endgame couple(s), I often like thinking of the options, the what-if, etc. so fighting about that does not sound appealing lol

6. Did you used to have any no-otp or have it currently?

Talking about my very first fandoms, I never wanted Sakura with either Naruto nor Sasuke lol I loved her, but hated the idea of either options. Still not sold on it tbh. I also really hated the idea of Hermione with either of the other two lsdfj same reason, I loved her so much, and I loved that they were friends!

I have ships I am uninterested in but I always feel like notp is a little stronger than that, so I don’t think I have any currently.

7. Who were the couple in the last fanfic you read?

Oof, okay, life does come back full circle lol I binged the One Piece Live Action at the start of the month, so the last fics I’ve read since were all Zorro/Luffy.

8. Currently, do you have any OTPs?

DO I EVER?? I have OTP that have been in my heart since I’m 10. And, I mean, by virtue of watching so much QL I have an OTP in every couple I watch get together for 8 to 12 episodes, I’m a big, mushy romantic. Also I will daydream about ships from about anything I watch so…But! My current OTP, the one that owns my heart, that gets me to literally squeal in delight, makes me gasp and cry and twirl my hair while kicking my feet is Nomoto and Kasuga from She loves to cook and she loves to eat!

I love them sooooo much it’d be ridiculous if I had any sort of dignity about that kind of things (I don’t) (*´▽`*)

9. Is there any couple that, to this day, you are extremely mad about not getting together?

Ok you know what? I rewatched some episodes with my mom over my christmas break so I will say yes, Jack O’Neil and Samantha Carter in Stargate:SG1. Yeah, yeah I don’t care that he is her commanding officer and blablabla.

After all this teasing, damn, we could have gotten a little something something when the team finally breaks alright?

10. Is there any ship you used to dislike but now you think they are kind of interesting?

I can’t really think of anything right now to be honest… I feel like anything I’d feel strongly enough to remember I would still dislike now, though, to be frank.

11. Do you have any ship that, in the past, was considered normal but now you would be canceled over?

I guess? I mean, I came to fandom and to QL via yaoi – wich I started reading around 2005, so you can imagine the amount of “problematic” content I enjoyed. Age gaps (I was a HUGE fan of Naono Bohra who like those a lot), power imbalance, dub-con (one of the first yaoi translated in France was Gravitation), and so on and so forth.

12. What was your favorite crack ship?

I can’t answer that one, mainly because I used to have so many of them (I still do, don’t look at me). I got into superheros comics when I was something like 18 and I did RP with a friend where looking back, it seems like our main game was to pair everyone no matter how silly it might have been. I guess in those, I still have a fondness for everything we did that crossed the DC/Marvel divide. We also played a lot with those random ship generators? They gave you two characters and you tried to find a way to make it work. I still like those!

13. Who is the couple you read more fanfics of?

Across all of time?? I… have no idea… like really none. Recently, it’s probably any variations of 3zuns from The Untamed, but for the early years I could not say.

14. What most of your ships usually have in common?

The love I have for them (*¯︶¯*)

Joke aside, I’m not sure? I’m a simple creature, I’m easily swayed, if there is something compelling in the dynamic, I will be interested. I like them sweet but I also have pretty toxic ships, so I think the main thing for me is that there is something interesting going on that makes me want to root for them and/or think about them and how they work together.

15. What do you absolutely hate in a ship?

I need to believe there is a way for them to genuinely love each other. But sometimes, ~the vibes~ just feel rancid to me and I can’t get into it, I can’t explain more than that ^^”

I'll tag, if you feel so inclined: @benkaaoi @troubled-mind @bengiyo @gillianthecat @iguessitsjustme and @heretherebedork

[inevitablemoment]

I'm mostly a Janegon fan, but your OC ideas are sweet, I specially like the fact that Cathleen is a storyteller.

Have you watched the series The Nanny?

There is an episode where Mr Maxwell Chefield (Charles Shaugnessy) is about to marry the titular Nanny, Mrs Fran Fine (Fran Drescher), and there is a sweet scene where he talks to the spirit of his deceased wife and she blesses his new marriage, saying that, from the afterlife, she sent Fran to his life to bring joy for him and the kids.

In the series, is also shown that while married to Maxwell and having adopted his children, Fran never asks them to forget his first wife their birth mom. When the children miss the original Mrs Sheffield, Fran watches a video tape recording of her with them, and also dedicates jewish prayers to her memory.

In an AU where Egon keeps custody of Callie and happily marries Janine after proccessing the grief for the death of Cathleen, could you envision a similar dinamic between them?

(Sorry that this took me so long to answer)

Thank you so much! I like Janegon, too, but I'll admit that I've kinda grown attached to Cathleen, so I've gotten focused on my AU where Cathleen lives. But I did make a Janegon playlist that you can listen to here.

I got the idea of Egon falling in love with a storyteller from the musical, Twisted: The Untold Story of a Royal Vizier. That musical in general made me just love with the idea of a STEM geek and a literature geek finding love together.

Oh, I love The Nanny! I have a lot of memories of watching reruns of it on TV Land on Saturday mornings back in second and third grade, and then watching my recording of the episode about Maggie's wedding when I was home sick one day. I was recently able to get the complete series boxset from a Half-Price Books store during a vacation earlier this month.

This ask actually helped me create this AU, as I always have considered what my take on "Egon keeps custody of Callie and ends up with Janine" would be.

(Not-so-brief summary under the cut)

As Cathleen died when Callie was only a year old, Callie can't remember her mother. She knows her from photos, home movies, and stories that her father and her uncles tell her, though. Callie is a few months away from her fourth birthday when the Ghostbusters team is first formed and Janine is hired to work as their receptionist. One of the things that attracts Janine to Egon is seeing how, underneath his reserved and stoic exterior, he's a devoted father to Callie. Janine connects with Callie, who immediately imprints on Janine like a baby duck.

Egon slowly opens up to her about how he struggled adjusting to life as a single parent after Cathleen's death, and the tense custody battle between him and Cathleen's parents. Their friendship builds into a romantic relationship, and they end up marrying in 1986.

The only time that Callie ever felt insecure regarding Janine's love for her was after the birth of her half-sister, Lily Esther Spengler, in 1987. She began to feel now that Janine had a child that was biologically hers, then she wouldn't be as loved as she was before. Janine took her aside and reassured her that she loved Callie. Three years later, Janine and Egon welcomed a third daughter, Vanessa Ruth.

After the move to Summerville, as in my Cathleen Lives 'verse, Callie's main grudge with her father is that he uprooted her life over something that may or may not happen, and burned every bridge he had when no one but Janine believed him. Callie ran off to her maternal grandparents' new home in Chicago and refused to return home. She cuts off contact with her father and half-sisters, but only occasionally speaks with Janine over the phone.

Following the defeat of Gozer (I haven't decided whether it's Callie, Lily, or Vanessa who gets possessed by Zuul in this 'verse), the surviving members of the Spengler family reconcile.

[senditothemoonn]

obligatory scotfra but also engspa??

Gives nose/forehead kisses: Alasdair (because Fran couldn't reach if he wanted to...okay maybe if Aly is sitting down)

Gets jealous the most: Alasdair. I think it comes from a mix of insecurity and possessiveness. Mostly the latter. He does not like to share ajsjdjs he will maybe give the odd threesome a go because rarely can he say no to Francis (and Fran stops suggesting them once he realises how much it bums Alasdair out) but in general he can't stand the thought of Francis with anyone else and he is not afraid to mark his territory. I think especially when he's drunk he gets real handsy and overzealous with the PDA because he needs everyone to know that Fran belongs to him.

Takes care of on sick days: I think they'd take care of each other in different ways. Fran would be so dramatic when he's ill 'im dying' etc 😭 he just wants someone to pamper him, cue Alasdair who will do anything in his power to make sure Fran is comfortable. Alasdair, on the other hand, is one of those people who can't admit when they're sick and will literally not stop until he drops at which point Francis will coddle and kiss him and nurse him back to health whilst also making sure to tell him off for not taking care of himself.

Drags the other person out into the water on beach day: Francis, I don't think an explanation is needed ajsjdks

Brings the other lunch at work: Francis. Again, no explanation needed, he loves cooking for his man 💖

Tries to start role-playing in bed: *tries* being the keyword here ajsjdjs I think Aly would try anything for Fran at least once and vice versa ofc but Fran is definitely the one to initiate most of their raunchier bedroom explorations.

Embarrassingly drunk dancer: It would take many, MANY drinks but I think if you get enough alcohol in him, Alasdair will crack out some of the most embarrassing dad dance movies you've ever seen.

Firmly believes in couples costumes: at first only Francis but he quickly shows Alasdair the light and disgustingly romantic together every Halloween. They never miss an opportunity to be disgustingly romantic on Halloween or at a costume party.

Breaks the expensive gift rule during Christmas: Francis. Christmases, birthdays, weddings, baby showers, Tuesday nights ajsjdjs my man will take any given opportunity to shower people with gifts. Much to Alasdair's chagrin, his husband's love language is apparently expensive gift giving.

Makes the other eat breakfast: see, I think Fran obviously loves making and preparing food for other people but then will neglect himself (also food issues asjdkfk) so usually Alasdair will be the one who has to remind Fran to eat something himself.

Remembers anniversaries: Fran is a scatterbrain, actually. I think he is the type of person who buys gifts in advance, like if he sees something that reminds him of someone, and then keeps them all locked away in his wardrobe. So then when Alasdair greets him unexpectedly with a "happy anniversary, mo chridhe" he can whip out the antique kilt pin he saw three months ago or the set of golf clubs that were on sale.

Brings up having kids first: in my mind, it's Alasdair. And if it's omegaverse then definitely Alasdair ajsjdkss. I think he would look back on his childhood with a big family and lots of siblings fondly and want that for his own kids. But I also see Fran as an only child so in some aus as a compromise I can see them having three kids. Unless lil baby Mattie is their lovechild of course then I think he'd be their only child.

Kills the bugs: catches them in a jar and takes them far enough away that Francis stops screaming.

First to define them as a couple: okay this one is so hard because part of me knows that Fran is a lot more open than Alasdair with his romantic side BUTT if you've read the FTF series (my canon) then you will know how turbulent their relationship is and so I think they'd both be slightly reluctant to admit their feelings for each other or define anything but because I love the series so much and honeslty can't see it happening any other way, I think Alasdair is the catalyst that starts the beginning of their relationship. Once it's begun though and they grow comfortable and used to each other's idiosyncrasies, I think that Francis would be the one to define it because he knows Alasdair well enough to realise he's too nervous to do it himself.

Who hides their guilty pleasures longer: Alasdair. Fran doesn't know the meaning of the words guilt and shame ajdjdjsj I dont think he believes in the phrase 'guilty pleasure' if it brings him pleasure, why would he feel guilty about it? Alasdair on the other hand is probably ashamed of like 90% of the things he does (with Francis' help we can get that down to like at least 30%)

Snorts while laughing: Francis.

🌸🌸🌸

I don't have much experience with Engspa but I will try my best 🩷

Gives nose/forehead kisses: I think this definitely seems like a Toni thing 💗

Gets jealous the most: Arthur, probably. Sad insecure, anxious little man - he can't help it :(

Takes care of on sick days: I think Arthur, just like his brother, has a problem with overworking which leaves Toni to look after him.

Drags the other person out into the water on beach day: I think this is just as obvious as with scotfra but Toni. I think it's so easy to imagine RT chan, in his oversized t shirt, being dragged to the beach reluctantly and god forbid he has to take a dip in the sea 😩

Brings the other lunch at work: this also seems like a Toni thing.

Tries to start role-playing in bed: we all know Arthur is a kinky little shit beneath all that and tweed.

Embarrassingly drunk dancer: Arthur, for sure.

Firmly believes in couples costumes: Toni but I think he'd get Arthur into them. Arthur would be all like "this is silly" and then like 5 days after Halloween be like "okay so what are we going as next year?"

Breaks the expensive gift rule during Christmas: I think if you've made an agreement of any sort with Arthur and then break it, he'd get so flustered. So for his sake, neither of them.

Makes the other eat breakfast: Arthur is absolutely the type of guy to forget to eat, bless him.

Remembers anniversaries: Arthur is also the type of guy to forget anniversaries I think so he makes sure to write everything down meticulously (and still probably ends up forgetting somehow ajsksks)

Brings up having kids first: hmm I'm not sure. I can see either of them doing it but I suppose since Arthur is shy maybe Toni?

Kills the bugs: hmmm Arthur? He'd just straight though eat them though because he's feral.

First to define them as a couple: terminally repressed Englishman like Arthur? Nah i think not, this one is up to Toni.

Who hides their guilty pleasures longer: imma have to give it to Arthur, poor little repressed man.

Snorts while laughing: hmmm... Toni.

[musicallad]

Franletta Month - Day 6 - Cry

@franletta-month

Francesca opened the door to her apartment, legs tired and head aching. She had been rehearsing for the European leg of her international tour that was heading off next month. The smell of chocolate greeted her, and soft piano music could be heard from the living room. “Vilu, honey, I’m home.” she announced, taking her shoes off. As she turned around, she was surprised with the most beautiful woman she had ever laid eyes on. Violetta was wearing a soft pink lipstick and a beautiful blue and white dress. “Vilu...” Fran said, awe audible in her voice and adoration obvious on her face. Violetta grinned and took her girlfriend’s hands. “Yesterday, I saw you crying in the kitchen, and I wanted to cheer you up. So, I have made paella and tried to bake baci di dama and I just want you to be happy my love and I’m sorry I couldn't check on you yesterday I had so many calls with my managers and Angie and Pablo’s wedding coming...”

Francesca interrupted her girlfriend with a gentle peck on the lips. “You did all of this because you saw me crying yesterday?” Violetta nodded her head. “I probably should tell you why I was crying then.” Francesca said as her girlfriend squeezed her hands. “Talking often helps but if you don’t want to tell me that is also okay, whatever is going to make you happy.” Violetta replied, a soft, encouraging smile on her face. Francesca chuckled and kissed Violetta’s hands. “Vilu, I love you so much and you are so sweet, but nothing is wrong. I was just cutting onions.” Violetta burst out laughing. “Oh, my goodness, I am so glad that you are okay Fran, I can’t believe I thought something was terribly wrong.” Francesca grinned and pulled her girlfriend in for a kiss. Even if nothing was wrong, she was not going to let her beautiful woman (or food) go to waste.

[sofwrites]

Oh my god, I am so blown away that you answered my Qs about Welcome to the Digital Age, Babe so beautifully. It is seriously one of the works I reread every few months because of all the feels. And I love that because it’s a text message tale, we only get some of their relationship. It makes me so curious about what’s happening when Colin and Pen actually spend time together.

I love the context you have with all your answers. I can completely see Colin panicking that Pen told Eloise about what he said - not just because he doesn’t want to get whatever is coming to him from Eloise but because he feels really terrible about what happened and doesn’t like to be reminded of it. And I see Pen panicking post-kiss and Colin wanting to just be close to her without really thinking about the long term implications.

About Colin calling someone by a different name in bed, I totally agree that he stopped sleeping around after he caught feelings (and also partially why he’s so thrilled when he’s messaging Michael after he and Pen finally get together - boy is finally getting some). Also it’s the pandemic, and given all his precautions, I don’t see him going out for random hook ups. I like to think that maybe this was a pre-Italy hook up and he did still call someone by Pen’s name, which totally surprised him and also put some thoughts in his head when they were in Italy.

And I just love all the ways Felicity/the Bridgertons could have found out. I didn’t even consider the Michael way and I love that if there’s one thing that gets Fran to reveal she’s with Michael is when he has info about Colin and Pen. Personally, I think it may be a Felicity and Hyacinth thing when they’re both being a little stalker-ish and stumble upon on overnight date.

Okay, last Q for now. When Colin asks Pen to come over and they finally talk, I have been dying to know what happens. I love the time stamps because I think - okay, so Colin told Pen to come over around 8:15, she said she would be there in 15, let’s say 8:30 she’s prompt and scared, upstairs and awkward small talk down by 8:45, what are they talking about for two hours???

Sorry, this may have revealed too much about how much I fangirl about your work but you really are one of my favorite writers. I just think you get them so well and you’re so beautifully descriptive. I completely treat your scene when Colin tells the mamas that the wedding is being moved up as canon. I’m so excited to see what you come up next and really grateful you feed us so well!

Dude, I'm blown away that you took the time out to ask me questions! I don't think I can really express how honored I am by your messages and the fact that you love Digital Age.

I am such a visible person in terms of my writing - I'm the one who's making all the faces and mannerisms while I write it into the characters. Even in digital age, where we clearly don't see any physical stuff, it's really fun to get to explain what I'd imagined! And about how Colin and Pen are when they actually spend time together... I always think of the book scene where he's holding her hand for 5 minutes the night before the church/carriage/proposal scene, and how they're so obvious without even realizing it!! They're definitely like that in my opinion.

njskfansdjkfn "boy is finally getting some" so true and honestly good for them!! I really love that idea for pre-Italy 🥺 it's finally in his head and he's trying to deny it, but it's there!!

Felicity and Hyacinth are absolutely the leaders of #PolinWatch so I absolutely see them using their stalker skills to know.

Oof, okay. What do they do for 2 hours?

You're right that they get past the small talk pretty quickly, because Colin's ready to really get down into it. He wants to know what happened after Italy and why she shut him down. She beats around the bush for a while, there's some silence, and then they start arguing. They can't agree on Italy or their feelings, whether it was real or just the heat. Penelope insists that what they had was a fleeting moment - Colin says that's bullshit. He tells her that he's never felt that way - she asks how he can be sure. She asks him why now, why his feelings have changed after more than a decade. He demands to know why she refuses to give this a chance.

She says she can't "just give it a chance" because with him, it would have to be all or nothing. Because he could break her to the point of no repair if they can't give it their all. Their friendship is too great to risk over something casual, which they both agree on. Colin tells her that she really is his best friend.

Things start to calm down, and they're less heated. Colin offers to make some food and he stands by the stove cooking pasta as Penelope sits at the kitchen table. They talk about their writing, to distract themselves a bit. He asks her the questions he hadn't gotten the chance to ask before: how she'd done her column for so long in secret, how it felt. She asks him how he feels about his own writing, and if he's going to look into publishing it. They say how proud they are of each other.

And then there's a pause, and he's making the sauce while she's staring at the floor. They're wondering how it would really work. She asks whether he's willing to be in town more often - when the pandemic starts clearing - and whether he actually would. He asks if she'd be willing to leave more often, travel, and write a bit there.

It's a standstill. Are they really willing to take the leap? Then the food's done and Colin sets it on the table and looks at her, hard. Neither of them says anything.

And then, just as the tension's gotten to the point where it feels like the entire room is stifling, Penelope gets up and says, "That's that, then. Night, Colin," and leaves. Colin comes to his senses right as the elevator closes.

God, I hope that all made sense! They honestly do have a lot to talk about, because I imagine that even as they're becoming really good friends, they don't spend enough time really talking. They discuss movies and surface-level things, but it really takes until that night for them to open up. Hope that was all worth the wait!

"you really are one of my favorite writers." I really can't tell you how much it meant for me to see that. I'm crying right now just reading that again because I really have dealt with a lot of self-doubt lately. I'm not as active as I once was, and I know it's easy for people to forget about you, so again, I really appreciate it. No pressure to keep replying, but I'm so thankful for you and your fangirling. Please keep being you. (and honestly, if you'd ever like to see a scene from Digital Age written out, don't hesitate to let me know. As I've shown, I don't mind cheating around the epistolary theme, lol!)

Ahhhh, thank you so much again! These are the things that can really help remind you of the love of writing (especially Colin and Penelope, who really will forever be my true loves). skjdngfjkdsfn I would say more if I could think of the words, but you're just so incredible!! <3

[endlessly-cursed]

𝑳𝒆𝒏𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒆𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑫𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒊𝒄𝒐 𝒅𝒆' 𝑴𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒄𝒊

This was not by any means meant to be. Domenico was a nephew of the great head of the Medici family that had marked history forevermore. During the rise of Mussolini, the branch of the Medicis fled to avoid his system. During the summer, the Somersets met the fleeing Medicis, and the moment Domenico and Lenore talked, sparks flied.

The two of them kept seeing each other, and quickly grew passionate to the point that Lenore's sister chastised for not being wise, but who could blame her? She was 23 and in love... Soon they agreed to eventually married... If both families approved of the match.

Lenore was not by any means the match thought for Domenico: she was very much like her aloof and mysterious father and Domenico was an open book, easy to read.

The pair married two years later and while it wasn't the grand wedding they hoped for, it was perfect nevertheless. Lenore had her first child 11 months after the wedding, a son called Lorenzo, like Lorenzo the Magnificent. The latter still stayed in England, but planned to move to Canada, out of danger. Her father, Malcolm, encouraged her to do so, for she was expecting again. The travel was made, and soon arrived at Prince Edward Island. There she gave birth to maternal twin daughters, Lucrezia and Mary Primrose. They both agreed on allowing Lenore's body to rest. Two years later, another son would follow, Juan Rodrigo.

A year before WWII erupted, she gave birth to another daughter, Alexandra Leonor. By this time, the world was tense and promised no more children. They were happy with their own family.

In 1943, however, Lenore found out she was pregnant for the final time. She was in her late thirties and everyone was worried; medicine hadn't advanced much regarding safe births, and they were in the midst of war with the odds in the Nazis' favour. She gave birth during a storm to a son, Francisco José. It was a stressful delivery, and for the first time, Domenico was there with his wife instead of waiting outside, which shocked the island.

In 1945, they finally came back to England, where Domenico took his remaining family and went back to Florence, where they remained until his death in 1986 by lung cancer. She took her youngest son Fran and went back to England with her nephew Lawrence where ten years later she'd join him. She was buried in Florence and a small shrine with her teendhood belongings was made in the Winbourneshire pantheon, beside her mother and youngest sister Gia, who had died fifteen years ago.

[journeydb]

April 24 2023 Boulder

Happy 30th Birthday, Hobie! Wow! I can't believe thirty years have passed since I held our son, that tiny baby, in my arms for the first time and saw those amazing eyes! He certainly has been a gift to ALL of us!

Hobie was a cute, sweet, precocious baby and toddler. He crawled at ten months, although we really had to work with him to do that because he wanted to walk since he was six months old! He took his first steps by himself on his first birthday from my arms to those of his cousin Kristin, who was visiting us.

Hobie was destined to be a tennis player since before he could walk! Actually, his third word was "ball" after "Mama" and "Dada". He loved rolling balls with us and as soon as he could stand he was throwing them.

Hobie had a lot of love from our family, extended family and close friends. Most of our family members have lived on the East Coast all Hobie's life and he only saw them once or twice a year, usually for a week or two in the summer, but he was and still is very close to those cousins, aunts, and uncles. My mom, Nicki, lived in Florida with our dad after they relocated from Massachusetts before Hobie was born. She and our dad visited us only once when our niece Heather, to the right of Mom, started college at the University of Colorado in Boulder.

We visited Mom and Dad in Florida quite a few times before they passed away, Mom in 1995 and Dad in 1996. Hobie was only two when Mom died and three when Dad died so he unfortunately never got to know them very well. We also saw them in New England when we visited our family there.

Cousin Heather helped me take care of Hobie when he was a baby and she was studying at the University of Colorado and Kristin did also when she visited us in Colorado. They both traveled with us on vacation to Grand Cayman and Australia and watched over Hobie so Bruce and I could have some time to ourselves. Aunt Kathi has always been very close to him and Uncle John was his favorite uncle.

Every summer for many years we spent time in Maine at Aunt Fran's sporting camp with our East Coast family. Hobie loved the boating, hiking, and playing with his cousins. We also visited other cousins throughout Maine and New Hampshire and many came to spend time with us in Colorado.

Luckily our cousin Debbie and her husband Bob lived in Louisville, the town next to us, so we did have some Colorado family. Hobie's cousins Sean, Nick, and Larisa have always been more like siblings to him throughout his life. That's partly because Debbie has always been more like a sister to me than a cousin.

The Panariello cousins, Debbie's siblings, were also a big part of our lives and so were their kids. Hobie always enjoyed the visits from our Midwest cousins.

Bruce's mom, Marian, was a REALLY important person in Hobie's life and, even though she lived in Florida, we saw her often there and when she visited us in Colorado. Her caregiver, Pam, who organized all the other caregivers for her, was also like family to us. Hobie loved his "grandmommy" so much that he and Katie named his daughter after her. Maple's full name is Maple Marian Holland. The wedding ring that Katie wears was Marian's wedding ring.

[antipolin]

I'm the anon who wrote about the paparazzi post, my apologies, I mistakenly wrote Michael instead of John

And about these photos, I know they were taken months earlier, as I understood people who run this account posted previously unpublished photos(as they did not posted pics of John or Featherington’s cousins at this wedding month ago when they were publishing photos for the first time)

But what I wanted to note that those pictures had the caption as Polin’s wedding that seemed strange to me, because for them as the third children of their families it would be strange to have a much more lavish wedding than Fran who is marrying John, who is even superior to Anthony in his title

All the photos they're posting now, were seen last year too. I remember them vividly b/c Polin's were being just as dumb and delusional as they are now about the 'Polin wedding' with all those captions and photos.

And it's not a Polin wedding. It's just a caption the person used to get attention. I'll believe that's the Polin wedding when I see it.

[kataravimes-of-the-shire]

Thanks for the tag @areyoudreaminof

Here's my answers 😁

Last Song: I Hope You Knew - Paige

Favourite Colour: Burgundy and any close shades

Currently Watching: Just finished Wheel of Time and I watched the new Goosebumps show last night

Last Movie: Women Talking, this was fantastic, harrowing but still bloody brilliant.

Currently Reading: On the final pages of The Atlas Six, then I'm going to dive into After the Silence by Louise O'Neill

Sweet/Spicy/Savoury: I have a major sweet tooth, but a sweet n salty combo is my favourite

Relationship Status: Basically married without the paperwork & cost of a wedding

Current Obsession: hmm I'm not sure that I'm obsessed with anything at the moment 🤔

Last thing I Googled: Frans Mensink (an artist)

Currently working on: technically I have a novel in the works *but* I haven't typed anything in months 😭

[travelingtheusa]

NEW YORK

2022 July 20 (Wed) – We spent the day getting ready to move tomorrow.  Things got put away and straightened out.  Paul worked on the RV including a climb up onto the roof where he washed and scrubbed all the bird droppings and leaf residue off.

2022 July 19 (Tue) – Susan came over and we took Xavier and Caiden to Kismet on Fire Island.  Paul stayed home to work on the truck and camper.  The boys had a great time!  It was their first time to Fire Island.  They loved the waves and played in them for hours.  They didn’t want to leave.

2022 July 18 (Mon) – I had a one-week postop check up with the ophthalmologist this morning.  It should have been a quick in and out but it took over an hour.  The doctor was concerned that the pressure in my eye was high.  At first, he offered to give me glaucoma drops to use.  When I said I had the glaucoma surgery to avoid using the drops, he said they needed to take a picture of my eye nerves.  After waiting a while, he said the pressure wasn’t that bad.  I need to be sure to get the one-month postop check wherever we are and be sure to check the eye pressure.

      I fell down coming out of Dave & Fran’s driveway yesterday.  My right hand and wrist have been very painful.  I woke several times during the night with my hand throbbing.  I was afraid that I fractured the hand.  Paul wanted to take me to the emergency room at the hospital but I was too smart for that.  I didn’t want to sit for hours so I called my doctor’s office and asked them to fax a script to the radiology facility so I could get an x-ray taken (the nurse sent the script because the doctor was not in today).  The tech told me it would be read and a report would be sent to the doctor in 3 to 5 days.  Three to five days????  If the hand is broken, don’t you need to set it as soon as possible?  What good would a report do me in five days?  I asked for a copy of the x-rays which I took to the doctor’s office.  The nurse told me there was no one to read the disc or do anything.  I had to go back to the radiology office and pressure them to read the results.  I walked back to the radiology office only to be told there was no STAT on the script so it would be read in 3 to 5 days.  When I pressed for results, they said they would put a STAT on it and it would be read sometime during the day.

      Needless to say, I was quite upset.  I gave up on the whole thing and just went home.  If there is a break, it’s got to be a hairline fracture because the bones are aligned.  My hand hurts with certain movements and not with others.  I’ll wait and see what happens.

      Miranda and Kenny returned from their week away at camp.  Caiden was very happy to see them.

2022 July 17 (Sun) – We dropped Caiden off at Xavier’s house and went to church.  We said good bye to everyone as we plan to leave on Wednesday.  After church, we stopped for bagels then returned the rental car to Budget at Long Island MacArthur Airport.  They have a whole new transportation center built just for car rentals.  At least, the return was better than the pick up.

      Our next door neighbors, David & Fran, invited us over to swim in the pool so we all went over and watched the boys swim for two hours.  It was very nice of them because they had the boys and Paul over yesterday for about four hours and pizza.

2022 July 16 (Sat) – I picked up my cousin Kathy at 7:30 a.m. and we drove 5 hours to South Weymouth, Mass. to meet cousins we had never met before.  My father’s sister’s daughter, Shauna, invited us to visit and meet her two nieces, one nephew, and two children, among all the other children.  They were having a high school graduation party for one of their kids.  Lots of teens were swimming and eating and playing games.  We had a great time!  Luckily, we were able to catch the New London ferry and saved an hour and a half behind the wheel. 

2022 July 15 (Fri) – We drove to Northport VA to get my hearing aid repaired.  When I went in last month to get the stable wire repaired, the tech put a new wire on.  Somehow, it got twisted around and I couldn’t fit the aid in my ear.  I got called into the office, the tech (a different person) showed me how to make sure the wire is in the right position, and I was out in less than 2 minutes.  That’s the kind of doctor’s appointment I like!

      We returned to the house.  Paul worked on replacing the awning on the RV.  I worked on cleaning up around the house.  Caiden complained about having no one to play with.  We walked down to Xavier’s house but he was going somewhere with his family.  He didn’t have fun today.  Boo hoo.

      Xavier showed up at 6 p.m. and the boys played until 9:30 p.m.

2022 July 14 (Thu) – Yay!  I finally got my computer back!  It crashed and I had to order a new laptop from Dell.  They initially said the new laptop would arrive on July 7.  That date slid to July 11.  Then I had to bring it to the Geek Squad to have the memory from the old hard drive transferred to the new laptop.  Finally, I picked it up today.  I’m still learning how to get around it.  It has Windows 11; my old laptop had Windows 10.  Configurations are a little strange.  I’ll get it down.

      So what’s happened in the last 3 weeks?  We had to put Bonnie to sleep.  She developed a very aggressive bone cancer that had invaded her upper jaw and was moving into the nasal cavity.  She would bleed whenever she ate and it was starting to impede her breathing.  We were going to wait until July 19 just before we left but we began to question whether we were doing it for her and for us.  It became clear that she was tired and ready to go.  It was a very hard decision but we feel it was the right one.  A vet came to the house and we all sat in the yard with Bonnie, petting and talking to her as she slowly passed away.  We buried her in the back yard.

      Paul and I have gone to a bevy of doctors.  There was a coloscopy, an endoscopy, cataract surgery, a stress test, carotid artery studies, and an echocardiogram.  In between, we visited with family and friends.  It has been a fast five weeks.  We are eager to get back on the road. 

      Miranda and Kenny left for camp on Sunday and we have had Caiden staying with us in the RV.  He is having the time of his life!  I’m glad we could give him this special time together.

[everythingsbetterwhengay]

Rewatching the Nanny…. It was a pioneer for being accepting of gays!

Fran actually does weddings! If only y’all could help me get her to officiate my fiancee and I’s wedding.