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whatsnewalycat · 6 months

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Psychomanteum / Chapter 14

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

Chapter 14: Wish You Were Here

Chapter Summary: Dieter takes action.

Word Count: 9.9k+

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

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

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

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

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

But this morning is different.

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

It echoes back to him.

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

How can nothing be so loud?

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

The gears in his brain start to turn.

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

Understanding twists his guts bowtie.

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

He finds nothing.

Each empty room accumulates buzzing and hot beneath his skin.

He goes outside.

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

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

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

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

He snatches the paper off his nightstand and unfolds it.

—

Dee,

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

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

I love you with everything I am.

Until the next life,

Lua

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

—

The words don’t compute at first.

He shakes his head and reads it again.

And again.

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

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

This isn’t right.

This can’t be happening.

He needs to talk to you right fucking now.

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

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

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

Your voicemail picks up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

This time he gets nothing.

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

What the fuck does that mean?

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

Your phone jumps to life.

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

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

“Dieter?”

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

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

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

“A note, what does the note say?”

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

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

“Until the next life?”

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

“Have you talked to anyone else this morning?”

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

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

Dieter frowns, “Wait, what?”

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

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

Parker continues.

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck.”

“I know.”

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

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

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

“I know, baby, I know.”

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

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

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

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

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

Parker cuts himself off with a gasp.

I couldn’t make you choose.

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

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

It takes him three seconds to find it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

DIRT will continue reporting as this story unfolds.

—

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

“Lincoln, where the fuck are you?”

“I’m grabbing breakfast from that pla—”

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

“What about—”

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

“Is everything alright?”

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

He hangs up.

The second person he calls is his lawyer.

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

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

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

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

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

“How would one get the charges dropped?”

“The District Attorney would need to drop them.”

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

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

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

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

“I see.”

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

“Is she going back to New York?”

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

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

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

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

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

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

He doesn’t answer. She continues.

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

A groan of agony rises in his throat.

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

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

Darlene scoffs, “What?”

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

“No, of course not—”

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

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

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

The nausea returns.

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

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

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

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

He laughs.

It booms, dry and humorless, through the house.

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

But for once, he feels completely sane.

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

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

“Mark, I’ll call you back.”

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

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“I need a drink.”

“It’s 10am.”

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

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

“How’s she doing?”

His stomach twists.

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

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

“Fuck.”

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

“So you don’t know where she is?”

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

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

He shrugs. His shoulders weigh a million pounds.

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

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

He speaks it out loud.

“She’s in the fucking woods now.”

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

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

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

Darlene stays quiet.

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

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

“But what if it’s not?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know.”

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

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

She holds up a hand in defense, “Ok—”

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

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

He huffs and takes a drink.

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

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

“Because I’m still your friend.”

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

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

“You have a meeting with the DA?”

“Not… necessarily.”

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

“Doubt it.”

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

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Zero two one four eight eight.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shh.”

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

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

“She took a bus.”

Lincoln asks, “Who took a bus? Lua?”

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

—

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

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

Seconds twist under his skin.

The minutes lodge inside his throat.

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

Tight-lipped. Hostile. Dead-eyed.

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

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

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

This time it’s different.

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

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

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

A burden.

What a load of shit.

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

Of fucking course he would choose you.

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

“Fucking Santa Claus, who do you think?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where do you keep your liquor?”

“On top of the fridge.”

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

“Lord, please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

“Wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

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

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

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

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

“And how do you know that?”

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

Instead, he asks, “Do you trust me?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I pick out your hair?”

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

—

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

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

“Who are you talking to?”

“I’m leaving her a message.”

“Give it, I wanna say something.”

“Just hold on—”

“Hey Miss Lou, I love you, I miss you, and let me tell you, your boy is a goddamn mess. And, um… so am I. I’m worried about you—we’re worried about you. Just… let us know you’re ok, ok?”

“Me again. We’re gonna go fix this. I love you, Louella. Please come home.”

—

Instead of conversing en route to the Metropolitan Opera House, they pass a flask of whiskey back and forth and occasionally sing along to the music on Jackie Lantern’s “PUSSY POWER” playlist.

Although neither of them mention it, Dieter knows they’re essentially doing the same thing. Hyping themselves up. Trying to ban the performance anxiety from their brains as they get into character.

By the time he and Parker arrive at Metropolitan Opera House, the booze has fully assimilated into Dieter’s bloodstream.

Thank fucking god.

It grinds down the coarse edges of reality and allows him to slip effortlessly into a familiar skin.

Dieter Bravo: Washed-up Actor.

Dieter Bravo: Party Monster.

Dieter Bravo: Brazen Jackass.

A carefully curated persona so convincing, it had him fooled for years before you coaxed the real him out of hiding.

That guy, the real him, or whatever the fuck, is not the right man for this job. Too soft. Too emotional. Guy is a pansy, he would fucking cry or make a scene or something.

Seriously.

He has no jurisdiction here.

Here, in this glitzy opera house, among the other black-tie patrons who regard him and Jackie Lantern with a kind of grotesque curiosity that guy couldn’t fucking handle.

But, Dieter Bravo: Attention Whore?

Eating. This. Shit. Up.

“Literal fucking pearl clutching, ho-ly shit,” he murmurs to Jackie’s big, white blonde afro wig as they walk up the red carpeted stairs into the lobby.

It opens up into a huge space that reminds him of a cave.

Brightly-lit, thanks to the starburst chandeliers dripping from the ceiling like stalactites, but a cave all the same. All four stories of shining white marble look to be hollowed out over centuries. Smooth, curved staircases flowing into terraces, filled with hundreds of well-dressed people and the abstract murmur of their conversations.

For the millionth time today, he wishes you were here.

You would be awestruck, gazing around with starry eyes that would make him appreciate its beauty that much more. You would look at him, in that way you do, and everyone else would melt away. You would smile and make those crystal chandeliers look like bare fluorescent bulbs. Put the goddamn place to shame.

“Whaddaya think, sugar? Get a drink?”

He glances up at Jackie over the rim of his sunglasses and tosses his sloshy head back and forth, trying to gauge how drunk he actually is, then shrugs, “Fuck it, why not.”

She leads the way while Dieter follows in her wake, delighting at the number of people who ogle Jackie, with her big hair and her commanding presence and her blue gown, shimmering aqua and cyan and turquoise in the light.

Only a few people seem to notice him trailing behind her. Fewer yet glint any tell-tale signs of recognition. The little upright jolt. The furrowed brow leaping into a surprised expression. The whispered “Is that who I think it is?” to the person beside them. Or, his favorite, the scramble to grab their phone and snap a photo.

They order drinks and find a tall table in the corner to lean against. From this vantage point, they survey the crowd for their subjects.

“How much does your man know?”

“My man,” Jackie mutters to herself with a little scoff, glancing down at her martini, “He’s not my man. I’m just a rental.”

Dieter peels his eyes away from the crowd to look at her, “A rental?”

“Not good enough to invest in long-term.”

His head rocks back in understanding, and he frowns, “How long have you been seeing him?”

“Off and on for two years.”

As she says this, she looks up, flicking her eyes around the room. Then she zeroes in on something. Her posture perks to attention. That little glint of recognition.

Dieter follows her gaze to what can only be described as the most average looking white man in Manhattan. Dusty blonde hair, athletic build, black suit.

He would’ve completely overlooked the guy if not for the precision of Jackie’s stare.

Well, that and the fact that you’ve gone on your fair share of angry rants about the man, which involved you showing Dieter his Instagram. This is how he also recognizes the mousy woman standing at his side.

“He brought his wife?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you two me—”

“Nope.”

The sullen aura radiating off her makes Dieter tick his jaw back and forth. He looks between her and Reese, then asks, “Does he know the plan?”

“Kind of,” she shrugs, “Bare bones, enough to maintain plausible deniability.”

“Uh huh. How did Reese know about Mr. Lindorm’s uhhh…”

He scrunches his face up and turns his wrist around, trying to find the right word.

Jackie raises an eyebrow, “Proclivities?”

“I was gonna say fetish, but sure.”

She lands a playful smack on his arm, then sighs, “Sometimes it’s best I don’t ask.”

“Don’t ask don’t tell, good policy.”

This earns him a side-eye with very little humor attached. Sore spot. Fuck.

“Look,” he leans harder on the table, “All I’m saying is you could do better. No doubt about it. You uhh… I don’t know. You deserve someone who loves you so much, they would pluck the stars from the sky and craft them into a crown for you. Not someone who keeps you a secret.”

“Craft them into a—?” She blinks at him, “Ok, papi, what the fuck’re you talking about?”

He tries to formulate an answer, to figure out where the fuck that came from, but admits, “Fuck if I know.”

“I’m cutting you off.”

“I am not that drunk.”

“Better not be, cuz it’s fuckin’ showtime. Here they come.”

“Sorry to interrupt.”

He looks to the source, flicking his gaze up and down Reese’s neat tuxedo.

Reese extends his hand, “I don’t believe we’ve met, but I’m Senator Reese Bernard—”

“I don’t endorse political campaigns, sorry.”

He starts to turn back to Jackie, who mirrors the action, then Reese, right on cue, says, “Oh, no. Nothing like that, I’m just a big fan. Could I buy you and your um,” his eyes shift to Jackie, “Companion a drink? Maybe pick your brain for a bit?”

Dieter finds himself slightly surprised with Reese’s acting ability. That is, until he remembers the man acts every single day of his life. He raises his eyebrows in question at Jackie, who holds his gaze and shrugs, “Fine by me.”

“Alright, yeah.”

A boyish grin spreads across Reese’s face, then he turns to the little mouse of a woman behind him and murmurs something to her, jerking his head towards the bar.

She nods and walks off as Reese joins their table, glancing between Dieter and Jackie, “Well, this is certainly a way to shake things up at the opera, huh? Kind of exciting,” he settles his gaze on Jackie, giving her a charming smile, “You look gorgeous.”

“Thanks, love,” she tilts her head at him, batting her lashes.

The way they look at each other, all goo-goo eyes, inspires Dieter to finish his drink. When he slams the empty glass down on the table, they both jump, snapping out of their nauseating little bubble.

“When’s our guy supposed to be here?”

“Ahhhh,” Reese frowns at his watch, then starts searching the lobby, “Should already be around somewhere. We always meet him and the missus over here for a drink before the show.”

“You guys do this often?”

He shrugs, “Every couple of weeks or so. Not really my cup of tea, or his even, but the gals love it.”

“Cute,” Dieter mutters.

Jackie shoots him a look, then asks Reese, “Do you really think this is gonna work?”

“Oh, definitely, definitely. The guy is smart when it comes to law, but thinks with his dick when it comes to most everything else,” he smirks at her, “And you’re just his type.”

In response, Dieter grunts and searches the room. His head feels weighted, brain sloshing around in the sea of alcohol he consumed throughout the day.

Maybe he should switch to water for a while, slow down this freight train.

Or maybe we should go in a different direction. Try to get a hold of something that will straighten us out.

This thought overrides his entire body, blaring and hot and uncomfortable in his veins, and he wonders if that’s why it’s called an impulse.

Wouldn’t it make you feel better?

His leg starts to bounce. He grits his teeth and reminds himself that he promised you he wouldn’t use cocaine again. Reminds himself of what you said in return:

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Your voice in his head makes his heart flutter, while the content of your statement sits heavy in his stomach, warring with that concentrated dose of urgency buzzing through him.

“There he is,” Jackie murmurs into her wine glass, “Over by the stairs.”

Jerking to attention like he fell asleep at the wheel, Dieter follows her laser-focused gaze to a distinguished salt-and-pepper man posing for a photo with a tall blonde woman.

The way they stand next to each other, all rigid and precise, their perfect, practiced smiles spread wide beneath dead eyes… it strikes him as familiar.

Middle-aged Barbie and Ken.

A fair comparison, although she looks closer to 20 than 40. Either that or she has a stellar plastic surgeon.

There’s something else, though.

It’s in the way they take a big step apart when the photographer gets his shot. How they seem to be bickering at each other out the side of their faces between fake smiles.

Anika and Dieter.

He studies them with a morbid kind of curiosity, wondering if that’s what they would have eventually been like if they tried to make it work. If, almost a year ago, he would’ve gone home to her instead of boarding that plane to New York.

They would’ve fought about it. Maybe they would’ve cried and had make-up sex. He probably would’ve gone to rehab, and couples counseling, and, hell, maybe they would’ve had a kid or something. Things would’ve felt real and good with her for a while.

But it would have faded.

After a while, he would have strayed again. He would have started getting high and fucking around all the time. He knows this like he knows you’re alive, like he just knows things, certain and right at the very core of him: He never would have found peace until he found you.

Instinctually, he wants to say you changed him, that you made him want to be a better man. But it dawns on him, with stunning clarity, that you didn’t. You didn’t change him any more than an astronomer changes the universe when they discover a star.

Which is to say, darling, that you just brought him into focus so he could see himself for who he really is.

Anything else would have been a plastic, miserable cohabitation.

As this sinks in, that hungry buzzing in his chest wanes. He understands that he can’t break his promise to you. More aptly, he won’t, because he’s not that man anymore.

—

Sometimes things go sideways.

For instance, sometimes the love of your life thinks that disappearing is the best solution to both save your career and evade a second felony.

Sometimes, though… the universe aligns in your favor, and a plan goes off better than you ever could have imaged.

Sometimes your girlfriend’s best friend’s boyfriend’s wife, who Dieter eventually learns is named Rachel, runs into her friends, Mr. and Mrs. District Attorney, on her way back from the bar and invites them to join your table.

They introduce themselves as John and—no fucking joke—Barbara Lindorm. Just as Reese predicted, John is captivated by Jackie the second he lays eyes on her. He occupies the open space next to her and laughs at her jokes, frequently splitting off into quiet little side conversations, where Dieter hears him ask where she’s from, what she does for a living, and whether she and Dieter are dating—which is great news, because it means he has not placed him as Dieter Bravo: Louella Friedman’s Meddlesome Boyfriend.

If Barbara notices her husband flirting, she doesn’t let it show. Dieter surmises it’s because he’s doing a bit of flirting himself, letting his gaze linger on her longer than appropriate, complimenting her dress, her hair, her nails. Not because he’s interested or anything, but rather to provide a bit of a distraction while Jackie reels in her husband.

It’s a little fucked up, sure, but you’d understand. Think big picture, baby. The greater good or whatever.

At one point, he sees Jackie pull out her phone and tell John, “Oh, I have to show you this picture from my last show, you’ll love this.”

This is the move. The part where she shows him a typed out message telling him to follow her at intermission.

Dieter calls attention to the other side of the table, asking Reese, “So, what, do you guys have regular seats or something? Since you come here so often.”

Reese sees the setup and nods, “Oh, definitely. A box, actually, they’re great seats—“ he cuts himself off with a gasp, slamming his palms down on the table, “Hold on, I’m getting a crazy idea. The other couple we usually come here with dropped out at the last minute. Do you two want their seats?”

Dieter glances over at Barbara, meeting her demure gaze, while he hears John murmur to Jackie, “You’re right, I do love that.”

“Why the hell not,” he licks his lips and shrugs, departing from Barbara’s eyes to meet Reese’s, “Let’s keep this party rolling.”

Reese grins, “Fantastic! Ok, do you guys wanna go now, or…?”

The lights wax and wane in brightness a few times, signaling curtain call, and Dieter smirks, “Lead the way.”

—

While waiting for the gilded curtains to part, Dieter flips through the program for Ariadne auf Naxos, tuning out the meaningless chit chat taking place around him.

He skims the synopsis provided, mostly just trying to look busy. One sentence catches his attention.

Ariadne is alone in front of her cave.

He tilts his head at it, lingering for a moment before resuming the skim. His eyes snag on the words stars vanish, then backtrack to the beginning of the sentence.

Entranced by Ariadne’s beauty, Bacchus tells her that he would sooner see the stars vanish than give her up.

Like he did with the last line, Dieter stares at it, slightly stunned. He shifts in his seat, glancing around before leaning over the program to re-read the opera’s synopsis from the beginning.

The passage briefly recounts the story of Ariadne, who assisted Thesus in escaping a labyrinth because she loved him. They were betrothed, and Ariadne left her family to be with him. On the trip home, Thesus abandoned her on a remote island while she was sleeping.

Ariadne woke and found herself alone on the beach. Heartbroken, she longed to die. When Bacchus arrived on the island, Ariadne first thought he was the messenger of death, then mistook him for Thesus. Bacchus explained that he was neither, he was a god. They fell in love and rose into the heavens.

Dieter sits back in his seat and fidgets, trying to find comfort despite this goddamn suit jacket, all stiff and tight with wads of cash. Despite the painful parallels his mind keeps drawing.

You are fucking everywhere.

The opera. The crystal galaxy chandeliers that hang from what looks like a bright white tunnel into the afterlife. The scalloped ceiling, backlit with a warm, golden light, reminding him of goldfish scales.

Are they signs or is he just losing his fucking mind?

“Probably both,” he mutters to himself.

Jackie looks up from her program at him, raising an eyebrow, “What?”

He shakes his head, nervously tugging at the whiskers that sprout from his jawline.

Before she can prod him further, the chandeliers float up into the white abyss and all of the lights dim, then the curtains part.

—

As soon as intermission starts, Jackie is on her feet.

John waits one cool second before excusing himself and following her into the hall. Reese hears this and turns around in his seat, asking Barbara how she likes the show so far. As she leans forward and begins to answer him, Reese locks eyes with Dieter and gives him a wink of approval.

Dieter nods and rises to his feet, then slips into the hall, weaving his way through the crowd.

See, when Jackie used to work catering gigs here, she got to know a member of the opera house staff who showed her a few private rooms that aren’t necessarily secret, but aren’t exactly advertised, either. They’re reserved for VIPs, when they want them, but mostly remain unoccupied during performances.

He follows the path Jackie mapped out for him earlier today to an unlabeled door on level three. Inside, he hears a familiar giggle and knows it’s the right one.

He pats down his suit jacket with both hands, double checking that he didn’t somehow drop all his money en route, then grabs the doorknob, twists it, and pushes the door open to reveal the smallest Victorian parlor he’s ever seen in his life.

It contains an antique sofa, a coffee table, and an armchair in the corner, and still feels cramped. The back wall is entirely occupied by a mirror. Probably an attempt to make the room look bigger.

On the ornate red sofa, Miss Jackie Lantern and Mister District Attorney are so busy making out, neither of them seem to notice his presence.

Dieter makes a point of closing the door with a loud bang. John jumps up and starts scrambling away from Jackie, his face all covered in hot pink lipstick, stammering out clichés, “I can explain, this isn’t what it looks like—”

“Save it, that’s not what this is,” Dieter waves him off as he approaches the couch, unbuttoning his suit jacket.

“What is this, then?” he looks from Dieter, who shucks off his jacket and sits down beside him, to Jackie, “A three way?”

Jackie sticks out her bottom lip in a sympathetic manner, shaking her head.

“This is an opportunity.”

John turns to him, narrowing his eyes, “Explain.”

“Well, see,” Dieter tosses his jacket on the coffee table, “I’m going to give you a stupid amount of money, I mean—really, truly, a fucking obscene amount of money. In return, you’ll drop the charges against Louella Friedman.”

He studies Dieter carefully.

“You and I both know that warrant was bullshit. Based on witness statements obtained by fucking paps, really?” Dieter clicks his tongue against his teeth and shakes his head, “That man is a gossip monger with a grudge. Zero fucking credibility. It wouldn’t hold up in court. It would be a waste of everyone’s time and money. This is an opportunity to cut through the red tape and get a little something for yourself in return.”

John sits back, crossing his arms. He frowns at the jacket for a while, seemingly running calculations in his head, then asks, “How much?”

“Hundred thousand.”

His eyebrows make a surprised jump. He presses his knuckles to his lips, considering this. His leg starts bouncing. He looks between Dieter and Jackie, these quick, sharp glares, “I don’t appreciate being set up like this.”

Dieter nods in acknowledgment. Jackie just blinks at him.

He releases a big sigh.

Sitting up, he grabs the jacket and digs into one of the pockets, then pulls out a few $10,000 bundles.

As he inspects them, Dieter asks, “Well?”

“You two are good,” John chuckles, then extends his hand to Dieter, “I’ll look into her case for you, see what we can do.”

He takes it, giving him an overly enthusiastic shake, “Good man. Thank you.”

“Louella Friedman?”

“That’s right. I, uhhh—I put her info in the front pocket.”

“Got it.”

Dieter stands and looks at Jackie, nodding to the door.

“Thanks, Johnny,” she winks, then rises to her feet and starts towards the door.

“Thank you, Jackie,” he grins at her for a second before returning to Dieter, “And thank you.”

“My pleasure,” Dieter pulls up the sleeves on his dress shirt, “Don’t spend it all in one place.”

John laughs at this, so Dieter feels compelled to clarify, “No, but really, the IRS might start asking questions if you do. So—don’t, ok?”

“Oh, well, yeah—”

Dieter turns on his heel and follows Jackie out of the room, closing the door behind him.

“Johnny?” he raises an eyebrow at her as they walk away.

“He’s kinda cute. Good kisser.”

“Thinking about adding him to your roster?”

She snorts and gives him a playful shove, “Let’s get the fuck outta here.”

—

Within thirty seconds of entering the apartment, Jackie has locked herself in the bathroom with the shower running.

Dieter collapses on the couch and slowly dismantles the remains of his suit, unknotting the bow-tie, taking off his dress shirt, wriggling out of his pants, until he’s left in boxers and an undershirt.

Exhaustion, emotional and physical, drains any remaining adrenaline from this evening’s success from his limbs.

Figuring it will take a while for the de-Jackiefication to take place in the bathroom, he checks his phone for updates, then decides to call and leave you a message before letting sleep take over.

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

“Hey, doll, it’s me. It is… just after midnight here in New York. Just wanted to let you know, I talked to the DA. He’s dropping the charges, because they’re bullshit, and uhhh… yeah. You can come out now, if you want. I… I miss you. All day I missed you. I wish you were here, and—listen, Lua, I get what you’re doing. You think you’re saving me or something by disappearing, but let me tell you, you are fucking not. Ok? I don’t think you understand… you save me every single day. Just by loving me. The acting, publicity, fucking—whatever, none of that fucking matters to me. I swear to god. You are—you are it for me. The end all be all. My sun, my moon, the stars, you are my whole fucking universe. You are… everything to me, Louella. I love you. I hope I see you soon.”

[ Next Chapter ]

#psychomanteum #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x oc #dieter bravo x ofc #the bubble #the bubble fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction

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soaked4mk · 1 month

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Hi, me again! Can I request a fic where Fujin (MK11) walks in on the fem!reader and watches her practicing a dance to this song:

Dancing with the Wind // Fujin x Reader imagine

👽: Ofc!!! I like your prompts a lot btw!!

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

★ Fujin strode through the corridors of the Fire Gardens, the faint echo of his steps mingling with the soft murmur of the wind outside. He had come to simply bask in the beauty of the area. As he approached the training hall, the sound of music reached his ears, accompanied by the rhythmic thud of footsteps.

★ Curious, Fujin pushed open the door, expecting to find the usual activity of you practicing your kombat skills with the others, but Instead, he was met with a surprising sight. In the center of the room, bathed in the soft glow of morning light filtering through the windows, stood a lone figure.

★ Fujin watched in silence, captivated by the elegance of your movements. He had never seen you dance before, and he found himself entranced by the beauty of your artistry.

★ Losing yourself in the dance, the familiar strains of music guiding your movements as you twirled and spun across the training hall floor. The morning light filtered through the windows, casting a soft glow over the room as you lost yourself in the rhythm.

★ He admired that you moved with a confidence and grace that spoke of years of practice and dedication. As the music reached its crescendo, you spun gracefully, eyes closed in concentration.

★ For a moment, Fujin felt as though he were witnessing something sacred, a glimpse into the depths of your soul. When the music faded away, you finally noticed Fujin's presence.

★"Fujin," you said, voice catching in your throat. "I didn't realize you were here." He inclined his head, a faint smile playing at his lips. "I apologize for intruding," he said. "I was merely passing by." Feeling a blush rising to your cheeks, suddenly self-conscious under his gaze.

★"No need to apologize," you quickly replied, trying to regain your composure. "It's just... not something I usually do in front of others." Fujin nodded understandingly, his gaze warm with appreciation. "You have a rare talent," he said. "Your movements are as graceful as the wind itself." His words sent a flutter of pride through your chest, and you couldn't help but smile.

★"Thank you, Fujin," you said softly. "That means a lot coming from you…” Fujin's smile widened as he took a step closer, his eyes sparkling with admiration. "Well, I am honored to have been given the chance to witness your talent," he replied earnestly.

★ "Perhaps you would allow me the privilege of being your dance partner someday?" He inquired, cheekily. Your heart skipped a beat at his words, a rush of excitement coursing through your veins. You couldn’t help but giggle a small bit before responding.

★ With a radiant smile, you nodded eagerly, soul soaring with the realization that your secret passion had brought you closer to the God you admired most. “Then, i’ll be waiting for an invitation next time…” he smiled fondly towards you.

★ With a nod of farewell, Fujin turned to leave, leaving you alone once more in the quiet of the training hall. Watching him go, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the interaction.

★ You resumed your dance, knowing that his words would linger. inspiring you to continue pursuing your hobby with passion and dedication.

★ And as Fujin walked away, the memory of your dance lingered in his mind. Unable to shake the feeling that he had witnessed something truly special, a fleeting moment of beauty amidst the chaos of the world. And for that, he was grateful.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

#mk11 #mk11 x reader #mk11 fujin #mk fujin #lord fujin #mortal kombat 11 #mortal kombat fujin #mortal kombat fandom #mk fandom #fujin mortal kombat #fujin x reader

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alovesongshewrote · 1 year

Text

Kitten | The Lost Boys x Reader HCs

Plot: david calls you "kitten." you have an interesting response. [The Lost Boys x GN!Reader]

Word count: 809

Warnings: none

A/N: i have nothing against david calling his s/o kitten, but i mean,,, it opens the door for some interesting interactions if said s/o is a teensy bit unhinged

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a vampiric David in possession of a s/o, must want to call them kitten

I mean, it has to be

It’s a trope so common that the lost boys fandom low-key memes about it

Which is fair

I have nothing against the trope, but

I mean, the last time i saw the pet name “kitten,” it was in one of those discord mod and their kitten memes

So, dear readers, i offer you this scenario:

You’re relatively new to santa carla

One night you run into the vampires

Aaand you make a good enough impression that 1) they let you live, at least for the time being

And 2) they bring you back to the cave for a lil visit

It’s neat, it’s cool, you’re having a good time

And this goes on for about a week or so

And the whole time, everything is fine

Everything is chill

And you don’t get murdered, so that’s a good sign

(it’s because they find you interesting)

In fact

They’re actually chatting a bit about turning you

It’s a possibility for the moment, a suggestion that’s barely taken seriously

But y’know

One day you’re visiting the cave and they end up talking about it

Quietly

While you’re distracted

And eventually, a question pops up that only you can answer

Whatever the question is, it doesn’t get answered

Because david

Makes the brilliant decision (/s)

To call you over like this:

“C’mere for a second, kitten.”

And he does it in his low, seductive

(“Seductive”)

Kinda gravely

“Where ya goin’, star?” voice that usually gets people going

But you?

You aren’t moved

You just stare at him for a second

Tilt your head one way

Tilt it the other way

And you go

In a voice that betrays your confusion and amusement

“What did you just say?”

And he says again

Still with this

Overflowing confidence

“C’mere, kitten.”

You blink a few times

Eyes open

Eyes closed

And then

Your face splits into a grin

And you say

“Meow.”

NOW KEEP IN MIND

You do not say this in a coquettish or sexy manner- you say it in the way one would say it to an actual cat, or perhaps to a child learning about animal sounds

And he like

Raises an eyebrow

And you say it again

You just

“Meow.”

And he opens his mouth to speak and you say

“Meow.”

And he finally gets the words out

Kind of

He says, “What-”

And you cut him off with another, “Meow.”

And he manages to say, “What are you doing?”

To which you respond

Say it with me now

“Meow.”

He continues to try to speak

And eventually he says

“Why are you saying meow, you’re not a- oh.”

Yeah, he cuts himself off that time

And that’s when the rest of the boys either catch on, or take their cue to be thorns in david’s sides

Or both

Because marko starts laughing, and then

Straight from the mouth of the vampire the Frogs dubbed “the little one”

“Meow.”

This

Sparks

Hellfire

Because once marko starts meowing, paul starts meowing

And once they’re meowing (and once david starts getting irritated, which is instantly)

Dwayne starts meowing

And you’re still meowing

So everyone is meowing but david

He is lost in a cacophony of “Meow”

Drowning in a sea of nya

He can’t get a word in, he’s just looking at all of you like you’re idiots

Which, like

You are

A little bit, at least

But you know how to have fun, so

Anyway, the meows begin to crescendo

The moment nears its peak, and you kind of assume it’ll die down in a minute

But then laddie wakes up

And in a brilliant moment of sleepy word association

The kid starts barking

And you go

“Yes! Woof!”

And now you’re all barking

And david has his head in his hands, silently promising himself to never use the pet name “kitten” on you ever again

It’s at this point that star appears

Playing David’s saviour for once

She simply says, in a very tired voice

“It’s 7 a.m.”

Ofc, the boys react as they usually do

Specifically paul, who goes all, “Chill out, girl”

But it is, in fact, 7 a.m.

So the subject is dropped as everyone fucks off to go to bed

And that’s that

Or at least you think it is

But david has been thinking on this

He’s been plotting his revenge

So a week later

You’re reading a book, or something

And david calls you

Tilts your head up with two fingers and says

“What are you reading, angel?”

And yeah, that one gets you

“Angel”

You hear the word again and again in your head

Your cheeks heat up and a chill goes through your body

And david just smiles

Finally satisfied

#the lost boys x reader #the lost boys x gender neutral reader #tlb david x reader #tlb paul x reader #tlb marko x reader #tlb dwayne x reader #tlb x reader

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mynameismckenziemae · 4 months

Text

She’s a Fire-Chapter XX

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x OFC/Reader (no use of y/n)

I can barely breathe

(previous chapter here, next chapter here)

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, p in v, m/m, m/f, f/f, oral, (m and f receiving), 4some, spanking, cockwarming, dom/sub dynamics, funishment, etc.

The rest of the evening passes quickly, and Bob starts drinking water so he can drive back to the hotel.

“So, uh…we’re sorry about last night. We thought you were asleep,” Bob says as he pulls onto the road. Sunny murmurs her agreement.

“It’s okay, it was hot.” You blurt out, your filter once again gone from the alcohol in your system.

“Yeah? You think so too?” Sunny turns in her seat to look at you.

“Mhmm. Apparently Bradley here,” you cup his semi and revel in his grunt, “has a thing for watching and being watched.”

“Is that so?” Bob murmurs.

“Yeah. He really seemed to like it when I teased him about you calling him a good boy,” you say breathlessly. Bradley groans in embarrassment but his cock twitches under your palm.

“Oh God, don’t even say that,” Sunny whines, “I’d like to see that too. Is…is this something you would want to try again?”

Your eyes meet Bradley’s heated gaze and he gives you a nod before he speaks. “Yeah, we’d like that.”

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

It’s mutually decided to wait another night; just to make sure it’s not an alcohol induced decision. Sunny can’t find her keys so they go into their room through yours…but they don’t close the door fully between yours.

You guide Bradley to the headboard and sit between his spread legs. You lean back on your elbows and touch yourself as you hear Sunny’s sounds of pleasure filter through the door. Bradley reaches to touch himself too but you shake your head and push his hand back down to the bed with your foot. “Not yet.”

He sighs in frustration, gripping the sheets. You bring yourself off quickly, fueled by the crescendo of Sunny’s orgasm.

Bradley’s biceps are shaking with the effort as you rise to kiss him. He groans into your mouth as you stroke him with your wet fingers before bringing them down to circle his hole.

“Should we show them this? How you like your ass toyed with? How much you to be fucked here?” You smile against his lips before pulling back as he whimpers.

You turn and sink onto his cock, pressing your finger in while you do. He squirms as you ride him at a steady pace and finger him down too. Bob’s low groans start filtering in too and your pussy clenches. “Touch me, Bradley.” You say over your shoulder, inviting him to use his hands.

He leans forward and kisses up your neck as his fingers circle your clit.

You fall off the edge shortly after Bob and Sunny do, and your orgasm triggers Bradley’s. He groans loudly and you hear Sunny’s breathless giggle after.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

You’re all up early the next day—the day before the wedding. The guys help Jake with picking up some last-minute things and meet you at the venue to finish decorating.

After a quickie in the shower, it’s time for rehearsal and dinner.

“Okay, now this is where I’ll tell you to kiss your bride, and then I’ll pronounce you as Mr. and Mrs. Seresin and then turn, smile, and walk back down…” Jake’s minister instructs.

You smile as you watch them traipse down the aisle, followed by Nat’s sister and Jake’s brother, then Sunny and Bob, and finally Bradley and Nat’s cousin, Emma.

It’s fun watching her fawn over him, bat her eyelashes, and stick out her chest…and he’s not giving her the time of day.

Nat had warned you about her, but you weren’t worried. You’d never been jealous and the fact that he won’t hardly look or speak to her unless necessary helps.

Later, you smile as he leaves her mid-sentence to walk over. “Having fun?” He says as he kisses your forehead to sit beside you.

“Yeah, it’s nice. It’s beautiful out here,” you reply, leaning into him.

You’d been sipping your drink, enjoying the quiet you’re not used to in the city; the rehearsal dinner was laid laid-back affair, held at Jake’s parents’ house.

“Sure is,” he agrees and continues after a beat, “I was talking to Bob, I think we’re gonna head out soon, gotta be up early tomorrow.”

“Mhmm,” you murmur, knowing that’s not the only reason.

You say your goodbyes to Jake, Nat, and their families before heading out.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

On the ride back to the hotel, everyone agrees on some terms, conditions, and preferences on what’s to come before things get too hot and heavy. You and Sunny share a look when Bob and Bradley discuss what they’re comfortable with trying with each other. Though it doesn’t need to be said, there will be no sexual touching between Sunny and Bradley or between you and Bob.

“Come over in 10?” You ask as you open the door to your hotel room.

Sunny nods with a smile.

You slip out of your dress and don your silky robe, wearing the pretty red lace bodysuit from the shopping trip with Sunny for the first time. You freshen up in the bathroom and watch Bradley’s eyes darken when you approach him, reclining on the bed in just his boxer briefs. He’s casting music from his phone on the TV.

“This new?” He asks as he runs his rough fingers over the lace on your stomach.

“It’s one of the things I got with Sunny. I just haven’t worn it yet.”

“It’s pretty. Turn, let me see that booty.”

You laugh but oblige, squealing when he swats you.

“Wonder if I could make your skin match this red…” he murmurs, watching his fingers trail under the lace before flicking his eyes to yours, full of dark promise. You shiver.

“I-“ you start but are interrupted by a soft knock at the door between your rooms. “Come in.”

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

A few minutes later you’re straddling Sunny on your bed while Bradley and Bob sit on the other; watching with rapt attention.

You kiss down her neck and look up at her when you reach the lace of her bralette. “Can I…?” You look to her breast and then back to her eyes. When she nods you pull it down and put your mouth on her nipple, swirling your tongue and nipping softly with your teeth. She’s so much softer and smoother than Bradley. You alternate between each nipple, pinching and teasing the one not in your mouth.

A deep groan snaps you out of it minutes later and both you and Sunny’s head snap to the guys. The sight has you both sitting up to watch.

Bob’s kissing Bradley’s neck and running his hand over Bradley’s bare chest, each pass a little lower. Bradley’s cheeks are ruddy and his eyes drift shut as the sight of you and Sunny, with Bob’s ministrations are just too much.

Your hand finds Sunny’s and you squeeze when Bradley’s abs clench with a sharp inhale as Bob’s hand drifts over Bradley’s erection.

There’s a collective gasp when Bob’s hand does it again, this time with intent. Bradley’s head falls to his shoulder with a guttural groan as Bob begins to stroke him over his boxer-briefs while smiling into his shoulder.

His other hand takes Bradley’s chin and guides him back for a quick kiss.

Bob pulls back with a bite to Bradley’s lip and waits until Bradley opens his eyes. “Row, come lay down over here,” Bob’s eyes flick to you, “Bradley’s gonna show me how he gets you off like a good boy.”

A shiver runs through Bradley and he stills Bob’s hand. “I-uh, I…sorry I was about to cum,” Bradley says, breathlessly as you climb onto the bed behind them.

“We don’t want that. Now,” he nods to you lying on the bed, “get to it.”

As Bradley helps you out of the bodysuit, Bob continues. “The other night in the car was Sunny here’s idea. I originally told her no, I didn’t think it was a good idea.” He smiles at her which tells you he didn’t need much convincing. “I told her she’d be in trouble though, if we got caught.” Sunny scoffs quietly and rolls her eyes.

“We thought we got away with it until last night. So while Bradley’s getting you off, Sunny’s going to be punished.” Bob says.

You fail to bite back your moan because that’s when Bradley decides to lick into you.

“I’d normally give her a spanking,” he starts, you and Bradley both groan at that while Sunny shakes her head and whines, “No…not in front of them, please?”

“You didn’t seem to mind sucking me off in front of them. How is this different?” Bob taunts her softly.

“It’s…embarrassing.”

“Don’t be embarrassed, I spank Rowan all the—“ Bradley starts but hisses when Bob slaps his ass sharply.

“Did I tell you to stop?” Bob asks.

“Oh God, that’s so fucking hot.” You moan, pulling Bradley back to you by his hair. Bradley groans his agreement into your pussy. His fingers come up to push into you and he flicks over your clit only a few more times before your back arches, and you cry out as your orgasm pulses through you.

Bob and Sunny watch as you fall apart under Bradley’s tongue. Bradley’s hips rut into the bed, unable to stop them.

When you come down, Bob continues, “As I was saying, I’d normally give Sunny a spanking, but we’ll save that for another time. Instead, she’s gonna warm my cock until Bradley gets you off a couple more times.”

You nod and your eyes drift close as Bradley restarts his assault on your clit.

You struggle to open them a few minutes later after Bradley brings you off again. Your grip tightens in Bradley’s hair when you do at the sight of the other couple.

Bob’s at the foot of the bed and Sunny’s straddling him reverse cowgirl style. Sunny’s eyes are pinched closed as Bob’s hand drifts between her nipples and clit, the other has a firm grip on her hip to not allow her to move. Her eyes meet yours when she notices your sounds of pleasure have slowed.

“How many more Bobby?” She asks as her head falls against his chest.

“More what?” He teases.

“How many more orgasms does she need before you’ll fuck me?”

Bradley looks up at you, his eyes glassy with lust as he brings his tongue back to your clit, only giving you a moment to breathe after you came down.

“Just one more,” Bob says and you nod.

“Hurry up, Bradley,” Sunny says in exasperation.

He shakes his head with a chuckle and slows the circles on your clit.

She scoffs, but you see an idea cross over her face before she whispers something to Bob. He nods and then she looks at you and mouths a question. You smirk and nod your approval too.

“I said, hurry up, Bradley.” She says as leans forward and yanks Bradley’s briefs down, landing a harsh spank to each cheek. He grunts, eyes closing as his tongue speeds up.

“Yeah, come on Bradley. Hurry up. Be a good boy for us,” Bob murmurs, trailing his fingers over Sunny’s handprints on his butt. Bradley’s hips rut faster and he whines as he doubles his efforts.

“Fuck, right there, rightthere…oh!” Bradley’s hand that’s not inside you flies underneath him to grasp the base of his cock, fighting his own orgasm as you writhe through yours above him.

You open your eyes to Sunny’s whimpers as Bob finally circles her clit with precision. His head rests on her shoulder with a shaky breath as she cums, the first sign he’s shown all night that he’s affected.

Bradley’s head hasn’t lifted from your thigh, and the muscles in his back, butt, and legs are still tense. “You okay?” You ask as your hand drags through his hair.

“Just need a minute. I‘m too close,” he mutters into your leg, tensing further as Sunny cries out again.

“C’mon Bradley, let me see how good you can fuck,” Bob pants with a slap to Sunny’s fading handprint.

Bradley shudders before lifting himself. He pulls you down and sinks into you with a tortured groan.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

“Row, baby-I, I can’t,” he whines into your ear only a few minutes later as his hips start to lose their rhythm.

“It’s okay, I’m close,” you respond, watching when as maneuvers Sunny onto her front beside you. He lifts her hips and sinks back into her.

Her deep gasp is what pushes Bradley over the edge, and he cries into your shoulder. “Get there, please! Get there…gettheregetthere” he begs.

His pleas and the way his pubic bone rubs against your clit is enough for you to follow him over the edge. He hisses as your long, freshly manicured nails dig into his shoulders while your orgasm pulses through you.

“Jesus, that, that was…fuck! You liked it too, huh Sunny-girl? Squeezing me so tight,” Bob pants.

“Yeah, but I—I…wanna ride you,” she replies, out of breath.

He agrees and they switch. You whine when Bradley sits up and pulls out, but his fingers are pushing his cum back into you, using the palm of his hand to brush over your still-swollen clit.

Before Sunny can straddle him, Bradley surprises you all when he wraps his other hand around Bob’s cock. You and Sunny whimper and Bob sighs as hips push into Bradley’s tight grip.

“Fuck, wait…I’m gonna cum,” he gasps and Bradley loosens his grip. Sunny climbs over him and sinks down a moment later, grabbing Bradley’s hand to bring his wet fingers to Bob’s lips.

Collective sounds of pleasure are heard as he opens and sucks Bradley’s fingers into his mouth, releasing them once they’re clean.

It’s incredibly sexy watching them fall apart together soon after; the harmony of her cries and his low groan is enough to push you over the edge again too, along with the help of Bradley’s hand still between your legs.

Bradley’s hard again, but he rises to pull on his boxer-briefs and carries you to the bathroom. He sets you down on the edge of the tub and wets some washcloths; bringing two to Bob and Sun before returning with your pajamas and cleaning you up.

When he straightens from wiping his spend from your thighs, his erection is level with your face and you can’t resist kissing him through his boxers and you reach for his waistband.

“You don’t have to-fuckkkk,” he sighs as you suck him down your throat.

“I want to, you were so good for me. You’re always so good for me baby,” you murmur-still a little fucked out before pulling him back in.

You bring his hands to your hair, encouraging him fuck your face. And he does; unable to hold back from how worked up he is.

He cums minutes later, shooting his load down your throat with a bitten-off groan.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Bob and Sunny are asleep when you come out of the bathroom. You smile as you pull the blankets over them but he stirs when Bradley takes his glasses off. “Oh, sorry. Must’ve fallen asleep.” He mumbles sleepily as he starts to sit up.

“It’s okay, you can stay. No need to wake Sunny up.” You reply as you reach for the light. He nods and lays back down, wrapping his arm around Sun.

“Love you,” Bradley murmurs to you as he climbs in behind you.

“Love you too,” you whisper, turning your head for a kiss.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

A/N: Not sure how I feel about this chapter. Again, I’m feeling like all of my writing is getting repetitive and it’s driving me nuts lol. This also took forever. Most of my chapters are around 2,000 words. This was over 2,500 words of mostly smut. I hope you all like it and it wasn’t too far fetched for the story line. I appreciate all interactions but I seriously adore hearing your thoughts and what you think.

Tagging:

@its-the-pilot

@dizzybee03

@sweetwhispersofchaos

@shanimallina87

@blindedbythelightt

@getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth

@lexixstewart

@phoenix-rising-starbird-one

@mrsrobertfloyd

@charmedkim

@k-k0129

@bellaireland1981

@ingoaliesitrust

@hookslove1592

@amiets2

@nero4te

@eli2447

@atarmychick007

#bradley rooster bradshaw #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x you #robert bob floyd #top gun smut #bob floyd #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x robert bob floyd #floydshaw

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felassan · 5 months

Text

DRAGON AGE: SOUNDTRACK 4LP BOX SET - DISC 4 SIDE A (BONUS DLC TRACKS) 1. I AM THE ONE (DARK FANTASY VERSION) [DRAGON AGE: ORIGINS] (4:10) 2. MAIN THEME [DAI DESCENT DLC] (2:58) 3. AFTERMATH [DAI DESCENT DLC] (1:29) 4. DARK SOLAS THEME [DAI TRESPASSER DLC] (3:01) 5. QUNARI ATMOSPHERE [DAI TRESPASSER DLC] (2:41) 6. LOST ELF THEME [DAI TRESPASSER DLC] (3:58) 7. D'READ KODA (1:08) [HIDDEN TRACK]

I find the arrangement of the tracks on Disc 4 Side A "Bonus DLC Tracks" in the Dragon Age OST vinyl interesting. it's called "Bonus DLC Tracks" but the first track it features is "I Am The One (Dark Fantasy Version)", which isn't from DLC, it's from basegame DA:O, and ofc the last track is new. this disc is the only one of the discs to include songs from multiple games (and not even just two, but three: DA:O, DA:I and DA:D, assuming that "D'Read Koda" is from or tied to DA:D). and the order the Trespasser tracks are included in is different to the order they appear in on the Trespasser OST, at least going by the Trevor Morris album (on there it's Dark Solas Theme, Lost Elf Theme, Qunari Atmosphere). I wanna say that the way it was arranged was intentional, like the specific arrangement of the tracks on this disc is like hinting at telling a sort of a story or a tease. he's lost, and then things come to an end (his story and.. something else?). a passage of music that brings the music to a close (coda), that brings a piece or movement to an end. I think of when Flemythal said

Alas, so long as the music plays, we dance.

and when Solas said

I walk the dinan'shiral. There is only death on this journey. [death is an end, and it can be a metaphor for the end of something too]

my eye is also drawn to:

I am the One (Dark fantasy version) [...] Dark Solas theme

especially since there's a different version of I Am The One ("High fantasy version") that could have gone in there instead (which as the second song on the DA:O OST, the high fantasy version is more of a 'where this all began' song).

the idea that "I Am The One" is about Solas/Fen'Harel and what happened in ancient Elvhenan (and what his intention is in the future) is a common fan theory, and not a new one. [link to English translation of the lyrics] the lyrics could be applied to a lot of things, or nothing at all, but back then there was a war (both within the Evanuris and one they fought before that), a divide between the gods, the sky was held back/there was great destruction when the Veil was raised (but despite that there was a flicker of hope in that the elves were freed from the Evanuris), the nature of time for the ancient elves was changed (elven immortality/mortality), he references the potential for the world now to burn in the raw chaos if he succeeds, In Your Heart Shall Burn/From The Ashes etc. he ended up being one of the only survivors who lived on from the event and fears dying alone, is one of the only elves in modern Thedas who remembers, he's asked for and turned to for guidance at various points (Lasa ghilan / Ma ghilana mir din'an / Ma ghilana, vhenan / Fen'Harel ma ghilana), he believes he's the only one who can fix it now in the modern day, etc.

listening again to D'Read Koda, the echo-y, pulsing aspect and how it rises to a crescendo reminds me of the music in the Dread Wolf Rises teaser (which is still such a banger). and the discordant notes remind me of the same here and here in the 2020 trailer music. the 'discordant note' hook is also present here in the in-game cinematic (also at the start and throughout it sort of underpinning it), and the general ominous atmosphere of the 'koda' also echoes that of the various bits of music we've heard in trailers and the in-game cinematic before.

anyways, since I don't have a vinyl player I made the tracks as a lil playlist for myself on Spotify and have been listening to that then playing one of the videos with the D'Read Koda audio in it (since ofc it isn't on Spotify rn) to have the same effect, and it's interesting.

#dragon age: dreadwolf #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #dragon age #bioware #video games #solas #mj and the world #dragon age: dreadwolf spoilers #(tag due to the bit of comment on the sound of d'read koda)#long post #longpost #mj meta #just speculation for fun :)#btw someone pls post photos of each page of the album/booklet art pieces pls 🕯️🕯️

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crimswnred · 6 months

Text

my thoughts on volume IV

whoever decided it was smart to dump all of the girls should be fired, I'm not joking

see, as I'm on a Raf route, I was expecting Daphne to want to be back with him, to me, she's the only girl that the narrative makes sense

after all, they were "super close" or whatever

(but if I were Daphne I would be crying too, her ex boy wants me, her current boy wants me, it's hard)

Evan is cute, I like his personality as well. He sees Daphne flirting with Rafael so I don't hold the fact he wants to explore stuff with us against him

he seems to be the chill type and I like how passionate he is about his art. he and my MC have that in common and the game acknowledge that?? (MC is a graphic designer)

they still can't write dance scenes 😭 it's been 7 seasons and you guys still can't describe twerking omg

Summer is still the funniest person in the room

Alex's wood weekend comment 😭😭

the gem scenes are getting EXPENSIVE. 29 gems to talk to my baby boy???

worth every penny tho 😭😭 guys I love him so much, Rafael is the sweetest guy ever. the way he said he was gonna put on the effort for us, that he would captivate us every day AAAAAH

I like how he's also aware of how he behaved in the past and that he wants to have the real thing with us. it's definitely reassuring to know we're not just another random girl he felt like love bombing

his chat was also funny but not like trying hard funny. it was giggling and kicking my feet funny.

Uma and Alex are so cute. I feel like MC/Rafa and Alex/Uma are the friends who always go out in couples, you know? like double dates? and they just support each other's relationship 🙏 it's so cute how they are with each other!!!!

Now, Bryson, if I were Willow I'd curse you to the end of days. WHY would you twist with Bonnie and give up on her literally the next day? GET A GRIP

Summer and Joyo are exactly how I thought they would be: extremely sexual. again, I think their energies are pretty much the same and they get along really well.

NOW, WHY DO WE HAVE TO CHOOSE WHO'S GOING TO THE HIDEAWAY? if we can pick ourselves, then just let us go??

but just quietly I think they did that so we don't actually need to go. so many people were complaining they were forcing guys onto us the previous season...

anyways, we FINALLY had a sex scene with Raf!!

and let me tell you, I know they can't be so descriptive but I kinda hate the use of the word "crescendo"

aaaaaaand bombshells, ofc!! both Vicky and Travis will want MC, I bet. maybe a little Cora and Tom situation. I DON'T WANNA BE STOLEN 😞

overall the episodes were boring. Fusebox is back to the formula they established on season 4—challenge, bombshells, recoupling, challenge.

I'm afraid they will be ruining this season, again.

last but not least: fuck daphne

#litg #love island the game #litg season 7 #litg stick or twist #litg s7

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trigunsbbygirl · 11 months

Note

I read both your Vash and Knives reverse isekais and loved them. I wad just sad that the brothers were split up again, so what if you wrote both brothers appearing in our world? That way they can be together and be happy?

ofc!! they deserve to be happy and just be silly little brothers together again hhbmmn

anyways sorry in advance I think I was possessed by like Miku or smth bc I do not shut up about music for the first like 600 words idek why

also kinda bring up potential v relationship for a bullet point or two, but yeah, many thoughts on the two of them..

•do not split them up! (I say after having split them up lol)

•but what I mean is, congratulations! you now have two(2) roommates!🎉 (rip if you live in a v small apartment lol)

•like I said in my Knives isekai hcs, he gets into composing music, but! this time Vash learns along with him and they make music together often. when they collaborate the songs usually end up being longer than 5 minutes and they always have intense emotions put into them. there'll be a soothing piano/violin/flute part before it crescendos into chaos.

•this is kinda their way of dealing with their past with eachother. they haven't talked about it all yet, (they will eventually, it's just a very big can of worms to open that will probably take years to go through and neither one is quite ready) but for now, making music together like this is how they deal with it,,

•over time, especially after Vash and Nai have started deailing with everything,, their songs together do get less anguished, pained and sad, and overall feel much more light. they took a bit of a break during that time, but after the two got past the hardest parts, they wanted to make a new song together and it was rather peaceful. a bit melancholic at times but the song ended happy.

•Vash gets into writing lyrics more than Nai does, although Nai does read over Vash's work and gives suggestions when asked. but when Nai does write lyrics, damn does he do an amazing job.

•Vash does the singing too! unfortunately, I don't think Nai would be too into singing, maybe just being a low harmony just barely audible against Vash's voice and the music. it's a shame, he probably has an insanely good singing voice;(

•if you're into singing Vash begs you to sing the songs he writes, even if you're not great at it. if you agree, he's got the biggest grin on his face, his eyes sparkling. Vash listens very intently, taking in the way you sing every note and syllable. he's committing it to memory and when you're done, Vash bombards you with compliments, saying you should sing more.

•Nai is a little more subtle with asking you to sing any songs he writes, but the way he stares at you a day after you sang for Vash is not. Nai won't ask for you to sing for him, rather, waiting for you to come to him and ask. (it's something Vash is trying to work on with Nai, that it's okay to ask for stuff and that you won't appear weak or next or whatever. idk how to explain it but I hc Nai trying to twist his wants/emotions to appear that you want it rather than him bc of pride and stubbornness? if that makes sense)

•anyways, you tell Vash about Nai staring at you a lot lately, and Vash thinks for a moment before saying he thinks Nai just wants you to sing for him, but he's just stubborn. Vash suggests that you ask if you could sing one of Nai's songs since he doesn't think Nai will actually ask.

•when Nai is listening to you sing, he switches between listening with his eyes closed and watching you carefully. it's honestly a little nerve-racking, but when you're done singing he opens his eyes with a small smile barely showing on his face and says, "you have a nice voice."

so sorry I went crazy with music for a second anyways

•Vash forces Nai to join in on movie night every weekend. Nai doesn't really care about movies but Vash loves them and there's so many he wants to see!

•Nai will watch them but he's got a scowl on his face the whole time, especially if it's a romance or comedy. or both.. he does like mystery and horror movies if they're done well. (I think he'd really like 1982 The Thing (much to Vash's dismay.) Nai really likes the practical effects and mood of it.)

•Nai is also lowkey really happy that he can watch cowboy movies again. unless a movie has really caught his eye, he usually picks westerns. they both really like Rango!

•Vash on the other hand, hates horror movies, especially if they're gorey. but, it was Nai's turn to choose so he'll try to endure it. he stays glued to your side, hugging your arm, and if he's too scared by the end, Vash will ask to sleep with you.

•Vash loves animated movies and comedies! he rewatches a lot of movies like Into the Spiderverse, Puss in Boots. he loves signing along to songs in movies, it's really cute.

•stupid thought that just came up but, if somehow Vash hadn't learned about rabbits and he watched Monty Python and the Holy Grail, he'd sit there wondering if that's what rabbits are actually like.

•there's a song called SEKAI-chan and KAFU-chan's Errand Ensemble and I can envision Vash and Nai having moments like the song.

like Vash wants a certain food, but they don't have ingredients and Nai is like just wait, we're going to the store tomorrow we'll have this instead. but Vash refuses and forces Nai to do rock-paper-scissors, and when Vash wins he's forcing Nai out the door.

•Vash usually forces Nai to go shopping with him. the times that he doesn't, Nai notices that Vash buys a lot of donuts and so Nai brings himself with everytime now so it doesn't happen again. Vash whines saying that they're cheap, but Nai argues that they've got so much dessert at home thanks to Vash already, they don't need more. Vash has a donut restriction now;( 3 a week and he can only bring a box home once a month. the only exception is when Vash makes the donuts himself. you guys always have so many donuts.

•Vash and Nai get insanely good at Mario Kart and they're both brutal too. they get really good at sniping with green shells and bananas it's a little scary. so, good luck getting first. Vash may be nicer and cheer you on if you get into first, but Nai is ruthless and competitive;; (okay there may be a few times where he let's you win but he'll never admit it, even if it's obvious.)

•they aren't afraid to play dirty either lol. they'll punch and push eachother and Nai will use his blade tentacles(?) to try and obscure Vash's vision. Vash will try to just grab Nai's controller and keep it away from him.

•you know it's just silly sibling rivalry, but sometimes you worry it'll just turn into a fist fight. it never actually does and when they're done playing Vash turns to Nai and says "haha good games, I had fun:)" and Nai replies, "likewise."

•it's the same with other games like that too.

•while Nai is more into cooking, Vash loves baking! you always come home to see Vash decorating a dessert or pulling a loaf of bread out of the oven. he's really excited and wants to try as many foods as he can. there's so many different types!

•Vash tends to make a lot of deserts and bread, especially donuts, so when that happens, he's offering them to the neighborhood or apartment complex.

•Vash also shows Nai recipes he wants to try eating and begs Nai to make them. Vash helps by cutting any vegetables or shredding food, but Nai does the mixing and cooking. you've asked if they needed any help but Vash just smiles and says that 'they've got it and that you don't to worry about anything. you just sit back and rest until the food is ready!'

•it's the least they could do they think, since they most likely can't get a job, you know, with no ssn, birth certificate and identity cards..

•you still do the dishes though and Vash always tries to help. if you refuse he kinda sulks before just wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your head. it makes it a bit difficult to move around but you don't mind. he just wants to hang out with you<3

•getting into romance hcs a little, neither of them would make a move on you until after they've started talking and working on their past. not only are tensions high between them, but it would also be too many emotions to deal with. especially Nai. he hardly even acknowledges you in the beginning.

•Vash on the other hand jokingly flirts with you, and if you're comfortable with touch, pats your shoulder, puts an arm around it, hugs you and so on. but it never passes from friendly gestures, even if he does like you.

•if they find out they both like you, it kinda gets tense in an awkward way. they just started learning how to live with eachother, now they have to navigate having feelings for you?

•Nai is actually the first one to bring it up to Vash, stating bluntly that they both like you and it's getting annoying skirting around it. there really isn't too much to talk about, they decide to let things play out. if you end up having feelings for either twin, the other would be happy and supportive. if you like both Nai and Vash, it takes another little talk between all three of you before they're nodding along and saying that they could definitely try for you. it's a little bumpy at first, but you guys make it work<3

•also they don't try to fight over you or try to win you over in any way. Vash may be a little more touchy and Nai more expressive with you, but it's just to try and show you that they like you.

•Vash loves painting everyone's nails. Nai grumbles a little, but he always indulges Vash as long as it isn't a neon color.

•Nai dresses formally in a comfortable way, a (usually white or light blue) button up with the sleeves rolled up and dress pants. it's always either black or white socks and they go past his ankle too so you can't see his skin when he sits down</3 he also always irons his clothes after they've been washed.

•Vash on the other hand dresses a lot more casual, maybe picks up on streetwear? lots of hoodies though, he loves them! his wardrobe is colorful, but there's still more red than any other color

•after 120+ years, they finally get to celebrate a birthday together:(!!! and really, I think it's the first time they'd actually celebrate their birthday in general, Nai seeing no point in it really and Vash thinking he doesn't deserve to celebrate it.

•but! it's their first birthday together again after they've made up so Vash wants to go all out and celebrate eachother and the fact that they have made up.

•lets ignore that money exists for a bit but, Vash goes ALL out. he's decorating the whole living room and kitchen with streamers, balloons, flowers, anything he can get his hands on. Vash buys his and Nai's and favorite drinks and snacks, he's setting the snacks up in fancy looking plates, and even if it were just juice, he's pouring it into wine glasses.

•he gets a fancy two teir white cake with the edges frosted a light blue, with those pearl candies evenly placed on them. there's also frosted flowers placed in certain areas too. the top has happy birthday! written in cursive. (I can't describe it for shit but trust me it's a really pretty cake.)

•a week before, Vash is begging you to take Nai grocery shopping on the day of their birthday so Vash can set everything up.

•Nai knows something is up when Vash refuses to go shopping, trying to keep a straight face, but he decides not to question Vash. he supposed it had something to do with their birthday, so the two of you go shopping.

•Nai can't lie, he's actually really happy to be spending birthdays with his twin again after so many years. he may not have celebrated his birthday, but it was a bit of a lonely and upsetting day. he's thankful that he can be with Vash in peace now, that their presence with eachother is no longer filled with exasperation and violence.

•when you two get home and Nai opens the door, Vash is there, pulling on the string of a confetti popper, yelling out happy birthday before throwing himself at Nai for a hug. Nai only grunts a little, taking in the decorated house as he wraps an arm around Vash. "you know we're going to have to clean this all up?"

Vash only laughs, pulling away with the biggest grin, "it's our first birthday together in forever! of course I had to go all out!"

•even though it's just the three of you, it's a lot of fun. Vash completely spoiled Nai with presents (some heartfelt, others practical, and a few that were just gag gifts. Nai scowls at those much to Vash's joy.) Nai had gotten him a lot more useful/practical gifts, but he did buy Vash a geranium earring and when Vash opens the box, Nai explains that he has the second earring. Vash tears up, immediately putting it on and forcing Nai to put on the other one. he takes a lot of selfies with Nai after that.

•towards the end of the day Vash is asking to make a pillow fort so that you all can have a movie marathon of everyone's favorite movies. it's a little crowded at first with how tall they are, but you all get comfy and they end up cuddled against you.

•you and Vash fall asleep first and Nai notices that, he turns off the movie and device before quietly getting out of the fort to put away leftover food and drinks. once he's done, Nai gets back in and gets back into the position he was in earlier, cuddled up to you, deciding to sleep as well.

#trigun headcanons #trigun x reader #vash the stampede x reader #vash x reader #millions knives x reader #reverse isekai

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samcarpentersgirlfriend · 1 year

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Could you do a Liv McKenzie x fem reader

where reader is really into scary movies and finally convinces Liv to watch one with her but then like halfway through it freaks Liv out a bunch and then reader comforts her because she’s cared and they kiss or sm?

ofc!! thank you for requesting liv, she’s so underrated and I love her sm <3 it’s honestly criminal that there’s barely anything written for her tbh

I realised when reading over this that it might not be exactly what you wanted, but if it’s a problem feel to re-request or send me a message and I can always try and rewrite it :)

MOVIE NIGHT || LIV MCKENZIE X READER 𖤐₊˚.

summary: above

word count: 971

warnings: swearing, descriptions of gore (nothing too graphic)

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹

“Shit!”

You can’t help but giggle as Liv just about jumps out of her skin again, almost spilling the contents of her popcorn bowl all over the pair of you.

“Do we have to watch this?” She whines. “It’s disgusting! I mean look!” She winces and gestures to the screen. “Do we really need to see her insides like that?”

“Probably not.” You agree with a shrug. “But it makes for good entertainment.”

“Good entertainment? God, you’re so weird.” Liv replies, grimacing. She’d never understood your fascination with horror movies, just as you’d never understood why she couldn’t get into them despite how obviously fake they were.

It must’ve just been another example of something that just worked about the two of you, your different nature making you all the more compatible with each other. You found that you tended to gravitate towards Liv compared to your other friends - she was just easy to be around. You’d never understood why Mindy would claim that she was the “boring one”, because frankly? You’d rather hang out with Liv than any of the rest of them. She was fun and easy to talk to, and your scheduled movie nights had quickly become the most anticipated nights of your week.

“Hey, come on!” you exclaim, launching a piece of popcorn at her head. “You picked the movie last week!”

“Yeah, and we watched Tangled! A very non - scary movie! Come on, you know I don’t do horror - why did I let you talk me into this again?”

“Because,” you say, reaching over to muss up her pink hair. “you love me too much. Now just watch it Liv. You never know, you might actually enjoy it.”

She simply mutters something inaudible under her breath, sinking further into her spot on the couch. She stays silent for around another ten minutes until woman on screen floats into the air gracefully as her family looks on in horror, the music reaching its crescendo as her limbs snap in all directions and blood pours from her eyes. Her screams echo throughout the room whilst Liv gags dramatically and buries her head in your shoulder, her pretty pink hair falling over her face.

“You alright?” You ask her.

“Totally.” She says with her voice muffled, giving you a shaky thumbs up. “I’m totally cool.”

“You’re not gonna throw up on me, are you?”

“Definitely not,” she replies.

A second passes.

“Probably not.”

You pull away on instinct, almost feeling bad when Liv about falls onto the sofa without your support. “Liv, you know it’s all totally fake, right?”

“I know,” she answers with a pout. “That doesn’t mean it isn’t freaky as shit though. It’ll be in my nightmares for weeks!”

Your gaze softens as you scoot closer to Liv, your legs becoming messily intertwined as you do so.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have made you watch it,” you sigh.

“No, it’s okay. You love this movie, so-“

“Yeah, but I love you more,” you interject. You say it gently, but there’s no undeniable force behind it. Because you mean it. Liv meant more to you than she would ever know, and definitely more than some stupid movie. She had to understand that, surely?

“You do?” She replies quietly, a small smile playing on her lips.

You clasp her hands in yours. “Yeah, I do. And don’t you forget that.”

Liv simply looks at you with bright eyes, her expression unreadable even to you. You realise how close of you the two of you have become on the couch and you look away from her for a moment, your tongue running over your suddenly dry lips before you continue.

“Try to take your mind off of the movie. Come on, think of happy things. Puppies, rainbows, whatever it is that floats your boat. You got something?”

Liv pauses for a minute in thought before nodding slowly.

“Yeah, actually. I do.”

“Great. What is it?” You smile.

“It’s nothing”, she says almost wistfully, her gaze avoiding yours.

“Aw, come on Liv. You know I’m not gonna judge you!” She couldn’t have possibly thought of something that bad, and you couldn’t think of an instance where the two of you ha kept secrets from each other.

You see the moment when Liv gives in, a nervous, sheepish smile tugging on the corners of her mouth. It’s then that she leans forward and he brings her lips to your ears, her hot breathe against your skin making you shiver.

“Well then,” she murmurs, voice low. “I guess it��s just easier if I show you.”

And then she’s pressing her lips to yours, and your breath catches for a brief moment. Because your best friend is kissing you, properly kissing you, hesitant and delicate and somehow completely perfect all at once. And it shouldn’t feel this right. But it does, and once you regain your composure you’re returning the kiss, your hands instinctively reaching for Liv’s neck. She becomes more confident with that, the kiss turning ever-so slightly more heated, her mouth more willing to explore yours.

You can’t help but wonder why you haven’t been doing this forever.

After what feels like an eternity, you pull back for air and can barely suppress your grin when Liv sighs quietly to herself.

“You were right,” you breathe out, “that was much easier.”

Liv just laughs that beautiful laugh of hers, her brilliant blue eyes lighting up brighter than you’ve ever seen them before.

“So,” she speaks finally, “Do you wanna watch another movie?” She picks up the remote to scroll through the options but you push it back down, causing her to look up to meet your own intense gaze.

“Not really,” you murmur, leaning closer to her once more. “I think I’d rather just kiss you again.”

And Liv is more than happy to oblige.

#scream x reader #scream x you #scream imagine #scream #liv mckenzie #liv mckenzie x reader #scream x yn #scream 2022 #scream 5 #scream headcanons #fanfic #fanfiction #liv mckenzie x you #imagines #liv mckenzie imagines

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ladycamillewrites · 1 year

Text

‣ Show some more

・ Conrad x ofc 3

‣ warnings: 18+ dark themes, smutty, dub/con, past trauma, mentions of domestic abuse, dom/sub, language

Conrad and Louise are interrupted at the cascades and protocol Viper is executed. Dirty secrets get revealed on both sides and someone leaves...

“Captain? Captain?“ a deep yell weaved past the many trees, slapping against the splashing cascades. Wilson’s agitated voice harshly interrupted whatever moment Louise and the Captain were having.

Conrad was quick to turn around, his broad muscled shoulders pushing Louise, making her feet slip on the wet ground.

“He’s coming. Go. Hide” he hissed, not caring about the gravelly pitch he was no longer keeping at bay for her. As if a strong switch within his mind was flipped.

But Louise was unsure if it happened due to her in retrospect quite tactless question or Wilson’s arrival. Her limbs hurt, vocal cords grunted when she stood up to follow the direction of Conrad’s signaling nod to the left.

Would Wilson really dare to come near with Conrad’s clothes scattered on the path?

Actually, she didn’t care.

“Captain? I have news” his sober as always voice crept through the soaking lianas covering the young lieutenant’s body in green.

“Did they find him?” Conrad immediately shot back, his tone rather a threat than an actual question.

Why was he in such a hurry to finish things off here, Louise wondered, rubbing her ankle that was luckily cooled by the cold, clear water. She hasn’t been on such outback missions before however, still knew that an infection or massive swelling had major consequences.

“Miller and Joán spotted him. We need you to execute protocol viper, Captain“.

Louise's nails dug deeper in her muscular calves, brain immediately flipping the pages of the missions protocols. 'Viper' was the final thrill, the main course of this mission and the big crescendo.

All in one.

“I will be right back. Ready the men, Miller looks fucked up already” he snarled through suddenly pesky splashing water.

His cocky mouth commanding with such a military coldness was painfully familiar to Louise, something she grew up with but there was one major divergence. One that kept her in place, knee-deep in the dirtier water

Conrad’s muscular frame rotated again, the semi erect cock sitting proudly enthroned between his thick thighs.

Louise shuddered the second her sore throat reminded her of how close he had been only a minute ago. How she found herself victim to a twisted consciousness.

Why the hell did she suck him… just like that?

Louise didn’t know and the fresh memories chewed on her grandeur. It would never happen again, the young woman spoke to herself like reciting a masochist mantra.

A ridiculous second later, her eyes were once again drawn to the defined ridges that formed his Adonis belt. Rare was a man with such beautiful physique and Louise had a curious nature to herself.

“Jackson, come out“ his moderated baritone weaved past the green before her soaked legs carried her out of the makeshift lair.

The young woman suddenly shuddered under his oceanic stare, her delicate arms slowly rising to cover her breasts. Very much to the irritation of her Captain who wasn't new to her anatomy anymore.

“Are you cold?“ she stopped, froze on the spot at the grain of affection in his military tone. Could he truly care about her after using the twisted areas of her mind that were utterly poisoned by the handsome man?

“Are you?“ she snapped, unsure how to react to such unexpected tenderness.

Louise's hazel gaze nervously switched between Conrad and the unique nature surrounding them. Until, however, she was glued to his manhood again, completely fazed by the happenings of the last quarter hour.

Her small nose scrunched for a second as her mind mulled over how she had even been capable of taking him in. Conrad was huge, wide and most of all relentless.

“No need to be a bitch. Get dressed and the fuck back to the camp“.

Nope, she thought, this man was indeed a mysterious kaleidoscope with crimson dominating his play.

What a pitty that red was her favorite color...

Louise wanted to protest when Conrad had told her to stay. But deep down the woman knew she would have most likely been a massive obstacle to the smooth flow of the mission.

Nevertheless, biding her time at the quite boring campsite with no one she liked around was a living hell. Taking a bottle of some red juice in one of the supply crests, she suddenly heard two male voices.

How convenient that the few idiots keeping watch had some tea to spill. The exact flavor Louise needed more of, needed to dive into and

Nearing them discreetly under the pretense of taking some photos of the breathtaking nature, Louise's ears were sharpened and ready to learn more.

“He's so fucking tense lately“ Wilson noted shaking his curly head.

“God, ya right. His bitch wasn't even ugly, bet a good lay“.

The young woman's brows furrowed in disgust, the wish to just leave growing steadily. 'Maybe there's something useful hiding in their dull minds' she thought forcing her skittish legs to hold position.

“You're talking about the Captain's wife, man. Guard your tongue or he'll cut it out“.

The other soldier chuckled amusedly, the hue of knowing something Wilson didn't sprawling in his husky voice.

“I heard them talking on the phone this morning, man“

Louise instantly stiffened, her subtle strides and squats to feign actual photographing lost their naturalness. They were still talking?

Of course they were.

“...she tabled that abuse thing again. “

The what?

Conrad was a domestic abuser?

Louise began to shake, feeling like a high rise had dropped down on her as the world began to spin. She was attracted to a man who hit a woman... she gave him head.

The young woman felt unwell, suddenly feeling her pulse point weaken. A last feeble “shit“ made it past her dry lips when she realized it was not the fucked up information that made her faint.

“Jackson?! Louise, wha-“ was the last noise she took in before hitting the ground, soft and comfortable unlike the syncope she tumbled in.

Rubbing her throat nervously, Louise's hazel eyes were still glassy as she looked around.

A soft breeze entered Conrad's tent brushing her wet skin like a good morning kiss in the afternoon. The last orange rays of sunshine resembled the few ginger strands in her hair as she got up, realizing it wasn't her own bed she had slept in.

Damning herself for drinking something unlabeled; a stupidity that could've brought her six feet under, Louise wanted nothing more than to leave.

Leave the tent of a sinister abuser she would probably allow to touch every inch of her body. Clenching her jaw the pictures of his tongue swirling around her nipples or his hand on her ass proofed she had already given him some kind of permission.

But the suave ways he began to occasionally unfold in her presence and as she saw now also his tent spoke a different volume.

Everything was neatly organized, even a few flowers lingered in a makeshift vase and a few personal things were spilled on a small table.

Not quite was you would expect from a mindless monster.

Nonetheless, her narrowed eyes couldn't help but continue scanning his stuff for something. Anything. Louise was unsure what she was really hoping to find as the woman snooped in her Captain's private tent.

'Come on. Give me anything' she muttered to herself, freezing on the spot as dull footsteps rushed past on the right.

And then she found it; a vintage compass with obviously labelled needles.

A beautiful piece she thought, her mind slipping off to her usual job and the contrasting high tech navigation systems she was trained to blindly read.

Curious hands picked it up, flipping and twisting the damp metal until the needles held still, letters on full display for her hazel gaze to inspect.

<; Ava Conrad > the one needle read. His wife's name.

The young woman felt helpless, unsure if it was pity what she should feel for Ava whereas the twisted part of her mind was...jealous?

Shaking her head violently, Louise tried to ban this unreasonable emotion. Jealousy was natural but surely not in this case.

Hell, she would never want a husband who carried on the legacy of her family...

< Forever yours > the second needle read before the man's voice she was currently hoping to hear least of all thundered outside.

Suddenly panting like crazy Louise scurried back on the bed, acting as innocent as possible with eyes still veiled by fresh fear.

“How are you, Jackson?“ Conrad asked as demurely as always before he snapped in either good or bad.

The woman struggled with looking at him while his analyzing gaze was eating her up, lurking for any reaction to interpret.

“Go- Good, I guess“ she stammered, finally hoisting her eyes, a darker shade of brown than usual.

The Captain wore this fever dream of a tight blue shirt, pushed up by his defined biceps when he crossed arms so weirdly accusing.

“In your file was nothing about an allergy to blackberries though“ he mused with this hoarse tone; a testament to the straining hours of executing protocol Viper.

Louise inhaled sharply, her knuckles turning white from the tension. And from holding his compass she had been unable to put back in time.

She stayed silent causing the predator of a man to circle her in a caging half moon of long strides.

“Open“

“What?“

“I said open“ he snapped, reaching out for her right arm when she flinched heavily, almost falling off the hard bed.

Conrad's gaze was suddenly painted by irritation, his steel blues menacingly narrowed and jaw clenched tightly.

“What did you do to Ava?“ Louise whispered to keep his privacy.

Why was beyond her knowledge. Men like him deserved nothing more than to be scolded and punished, not another woman to protect him.

His Adam's bobbed in disappointment as the Captain took a step back, the beautiful tan on his sharp cheeks giving way to a strange ivory.

The exhale took long, weighed heavy in the tense silence full of unasked questions and unspoken accusations.

Little did Louise know the half-heartedly discovered secrets were mutual.

“You have five seconds to hand back the fucking compass, Jackson“ Conrad rasped, looking up from the floor to pierce her deranged expression.

Biting her lip until it tore, Louise skittishly threw him the object of unsolved desire.

Only for the tall blonde to not catch it.

“I spoke to your father after they told me you had collapsed“ he began, nearing the shaking woman once again without a grain of resistance.

Now it was the young soldier whose face lost all kind of control and color. But not because he was close. Never because he neared.

“I- you what?“

“Mais non. C'est pas possible, he said“ Conrad's words felt like napalm contrasting with the sheer beauty of his voice delivering accent free French.

She was fucked and she knew it, averting her gaze from the man's strong pecks now practically colliding with her delicate cheek.

A veiny hand pumping intrigued blood flew across her arm, up to her collarbones that were still bruised from his hungry suckling days ago.

It all made sense to him now; her interest in Ava, the flinch when he came closer, the mistrust in her gorgeous eyes.

But James did not want that at all. It hurt to have this so very special woman think about him that wrong way.

“I can explain“ Louise offered with a voice as fragile as a young petal of an orchid.

The tall man sighed deeply, feeling the sting of his lungs as he fought to empty them completely. To retract any oxygen from his seething blood.

“There is one difference between us, Jackson... You just claim to know me while I actually know you“.

Louise felt her muscles wildly spasm, her head spinning with the richness of Conrads' voice and the fucked up meaning of his words.

She felt lost, helpless and still afraid. But also shamelessly drawn to the athletic Captain and sorry for Ava. It was a cocktail of toxins surging through her veins and mingling with errant hormones.

A drop of blood landed on her white top coaxing Conrad's pointer to gently wipe her torn lip.

“I told him you caused me no trouble“ he whispered, the notorious hue of tenderness returning to the man she had never thought would hurt someone outside of his duty.

But what truly let Louise's heart pump faster was the look in his blue eyes.

The man whose reputation was known as cold and efficient had acted knowingly as he talked to her dad. Probably, if she was lucky, Conrad had spared her from ugly happenings.

“Why did you do that?“

Squelching noises escaped his velvet looking lips as he pulled them in a strict, emotionless-looking line.

“Like I said. I know you, Louise. Or should I rather call you-“

“Captain? The whirlybird is on approach“ Wilson yelled past the tent, causing his boss to back off and eye the young woman with a rich expression she couldn't figure out.

The transport was for her, she knew it within a mere second of brushing his oceanic glance. It resembled the Atlantic the most she thought.

“I'm very sorry for the inconveniences I've caused“ she eventually muttered, the sentence sounding well practiced.

As if frequently used.

When her discouraged steps reached the exit of the tent, head hanging low Conrad had faced the compass that looked pretty well placed in all the dirt though.

The silent “You better be“ scarred the young woman's heart when she finally left the camp that meant so many memories with Captain James Conrad starring as leading role.

translation; Mais non. C'est pas possible. - No, that's impossible

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